The advertisement in the paper that Melissa had answered had been so simple. It had asked for young women to serve as fashion models and had given no indication that it might be a cover for prostitutes or call girls.
After five years of marriage, Melissa was bored and decided to give it a try. She considered herself attractive, had a good figure and could work part time. The additional money would come in handy since Martin wanted to buy a membership in the Central Valley Country Club.
She had called for an appointment. When she went to see the party, she discovered it was an agency that supplied models for various stores and organizations for fashion shows.
"It's for the buyer who wants to see how his purchases look on a model," the owner had explained. "It has a lot of possibilities, depending on the girl."
The first few assignments had been interesting and rewarding, requiring only for her to wear attractive clothing and walk around in the store's show rooms, while prospective buyers viewed the garments. For this, she received ten dollars an hour. After the fifth assignment, she decided it was a lot of fun and signed on as a regular model. Later, when she read her copy of the contract, she noted that it contained a statement that she wouldn't object to nudity when it was required. At first, she had been displeased, then when she thought about it later, she had to laugh. How could modeling clothing ever require nudity? Peek-a-boo blouses were cute and she didn't mind modeling them. The same with the short shorts.
Melissa thought about her job as she drove home that afternoon. It was almost five-thirty and she had to have dinner ready when Martin arrived at six.
She swung by the Kentucky Fried Chicken store and ordered a dinner for two. After dinner, she decided to tell Martin about the money and she was sure he would understand.
At seven o'clock he hadn't arrived. She had taken a shower, put on fresh undergarments and a thin frock. She could dress, later, if Martin wanted to go out for the evening. Being Friday, he might want to go to a topless club or see a porno movie. That always turned him on, then they would come home and fuck like crazy.
But he didn't come home. She tried to become interested in television, but gave up at eleven-thirty and went to bed.
At twelve-fifty, she heard his car in the driveway and the slamming doors as he locked it up for the night. She was certain that he was drunk.
Mark Anderson gave her a beaming smile when she went in on Monday afternoon for an assignment.
"Mr. Sandino was quite pleased with you."
"That's nice," she replied, then suddenly realized she didn't know a Mr. Sandino.
"He said you two got along real well."
Anderson searched through his request cards, and picked one from the box. "He wants another session sometime."
"But I don't know any Mr. Sandino."
Anderson chuckled and gave her a knowing look.
"He probably told you to call him Chet. He's like that. Very informal."
"I don't know any Chet," Melissa said.
Anderson tapped the request card against his finger. "Friday," he said, to refresh her memory. "You modeled for him at Summer Fashions. He said you had a beautiful figure and he was completely satisfied;"
A pink flush began to mount Melissa's cheeks. Summer Fashions! Oh God! That's who he was. The man with the three hundred dollars! She hadn't asked his name because he hadn't given her time.
"Mr. Sandino was very nice," she stated nervously.
"He wants you again for an Easter showing," Mark continued. "I told him you would be available any time he wanted."
She was certain now that his grin had become a lecherous leer and the way he was shifting his gaze up and down her body gave her the impression he was mentally undressing her.
Anderson was holding out the card.
"They want five girls at the Bermuda Palms. You pick up your costume from the manager, then mingle with the guests. They have some sort of party going on and Maginis wants some of their new spring line to be seen in public. If anyone asks for the label, say Maginis, but don't quote prices."
"Of course," Melissa said.
The Bermuda Palms was a large hotel, and many of the large stores held fashion shows there. Melissa parked her Mustang in the parking lot, noting the number of cars present. The lot was almost full and she anticipated a busy afternoon.
The clerk at the office desk directed her to the proper banquet room to pick up her dress. She was met outside the door by Jim Shelly, a Maginis employee.
"There are some wealthy buyers in there," he stated. "If they like what they see, it could mean a lot of business for Maginis clothing."
His smile implied a great deal more than his words.
She found herself putting a second meaning to his statement and was uneasy because of the uncertainty. What would they see? She had always worn clothing with a flair and tried to give her best to her assignments. If she could make a gown look sexier by widening the cleavage, or shortening a skirt to show more leg, she did it. She liked the stares that men gave her when they could see the outline of her breasts and the darker shadows of her nipples.
A young blonde woman paused in the process of applying eye shadow, turned from the mirror of the vanity she was using. She gave Melissa a wan smile, then turned back to her makeup.
Melissa viewed her shining long hair, noticed the back of the supple figure and returned the smile. She knew she had seen the girl before, possibly had worked with her but didn't know where.
"Looks interesting," she said, for sake of conversation. "Large crowd."
The blonde peered at her from the mirror reflection.
"A bunch of real studs," she said. "Ml they are talking about is drinking booze and fucking, mostly fucking.'
Melissa frowned, shifted her gaze away, to keep from showing her startled confusion.
The blonde failed to notice her reaction. She finished her makeup, rose from the vanity. She picked up her bag.
"Nice to see you again. Stanton, isn't it?" Melissa nodded. "It's Melissa-Melissa Stanton." The blonde studied her. "Always did like your peaches-and-cream complexion. It goes so well with short skirts and bathing suits."
"Thanks."
"Watch those cocksmen out there, honey. I've worked some of them before. If they can get a finger into your cunt, you'll be in bed before you know it."
Melissa frowned. "If they do what?"
The blonde moved toward the door. "Never mind, honey. Just don't believe everything they tell you."
"Thanks. I'll be careful."
The blonde scrutinized herself in the mirror, then turned abruptly and left the room, leaving Melissa to decide which items she wanted to wear of the garments that had been put out for her.
She chose a halter top and a very short skirt. To make the top fit tighter, she drew the center in by pleating and pinning the band, then shortened the straps which went over the shoulders, to pull the bodice up, tightening up around her tits and clinging to every curve. The pressure made her tits look firm and round. She shortened the skirt by turning down the waist on the inside and pulling it up to fit.
She was thinking of Martin as she entered the banquet room to have her first look at the guests. She was still feeling a bit guilty for her treatment of him. He had been rather reserved Saturday and Sunday, saying very little and spending most of his time in the garage working on his boat. He had purchased it last year when he received his bonus and was in the process of remodeling it. That, also, was a very expensive project and she suspected that the cost of it might have been one reason for his taking up gambling. He had wanted to acquire the money he needed but, instead, had spent more.
Other girls were moving among the guests, pausing to talk, conversing gaily, passing banter and answering questions. The words of the blonde flashed through her mind: "Watch out for the studs; if they get one finger into your cunt, you'll find yourself in bed before you know it." She could feel them appraising her, viewing her body as if already deciding to fuck her.
She intended to give them all a very firm NO.
"Well, well. What have we here?"
It was a man's voice. Strong, firm. She liked the sound of it. Then she found herself looking into a pair of brilliant blue eyes. The face below the eyes was creased in a pleased smile, and the instant she turned to face him, his gaze centered on her pussy. It clung there for a moment, then he said, "That's a very appealing outfit."
"I'm Melissa Stanton."
His eyes shifted to her face. "Yes, I know."
She didn't know him, couldn't remember ever having seen him before.
"I'm afraid you have me," she said, a bit puzzled.
"No, but I want you," he retorted and his smile turned to a broad grin that displayed nice even white teeth.
He was eyeing her skirt again and his face beamed with pleasure.
"How about a drink?" he asked.
A drink would be nice, she thought. She gazed hopefully toward the bar. She shook her head in the negative.
"Sorry. I don't think I should. I'm supposed to mingle with the customers."
"I'm a customer. We can mingle at the bar." He grasped her arm and propelled her toward the bar.
Then they were standing near the crowded bar. She had a martini and he was drinking bourbon and water. The first order disappeared in long, quick sips while conversation got underway.
"I'm Roger Queen," he told her as an introduction. "This standing up for a drink is for the birds."
She agreed that it was.
"How about going over to my room and have something good brought in?"
"Me? Go to your room?"
Perhaps she should think about it. She was certain she was being propositioned, but he was so charming and it would be a nice way of getting away from the crowd. Already, many of the men looked drunk.
"I'm sure I shouldn't," she began. "My boss would be displeased if I don't.."
"Never mind your boss," Roger said, cutting her off. "I'll take care of Mr. Anderson."
"But I'm supposed to…"
"I know what you're supposed to do," he said, interrupting again. "I'll take care of that too."
He led her out, across the banquet room, through a side entrance and along a walk that led past a row of motel units that fronted a swimming pool.
She went along, completely aware that he was a stranger to her; but she trusted him. He seemed so nice.
His room was large. There was a color television set and a large bed. He mixed drinks and they sat and talked and watched a group of men showing off for a young woman in a string bikini.
It was interesting and enjoyable until suddenly Melissa discovered they were talking about sex and he was telling her that he felt it was the most beautiful and most pleasurable functions of the human body.
"Don't you think so?" he asked.
She thought his eyes were almost pleading so she said yes, then realized she had said the wrong thing. She had practically agreed that she loved fucking. Fucking with just anybody.
"I think you and I could make it even more beautiful," he said. His eyes were boring into the division of her halter, seeking the curves of her tits.
"Your tits look beautiful."
Then his gaze shifted back to the skirt and the amount of thigh that was exposed. The hem was almost back to her crotch and she was certain that he could see her bikini panties."I couldn't do that," she said in a forced voice. "Why not? Don't you like me?"
"I think you're nice." "But not nice enough to fuck."
"I didn't say that," she said quickly.
He looked rejected and she was sure she had hurt his feelings.
"I didn't mean that," she said again. "It's just that I have to sell
His eyes brightened and he looked happy again. "Whatever you have to sell, I'll buy." "Dresses." "Hundreds of them."Now you're laughing at me." "Not at all. I'll give Maginis an order tonight." He took her glass, set it on the refrigerator. "Now suppose we get down to something really interesting."
She could see he meant what he was saying. He would buy a large order. All she had to do was to permit him to fuck her. And why not? He was such a handsome and charming person.
She said, "Whatever you say."
He grasped her hands and pulled her up from the chair, embraced her and kissed her on the lips. Then he pushed the straps of the halter from her shoulders. Her tits burst forth, released from the restraining fabric, looking amber and gold. He touched them almost timidly, then he began to fondle them.
"Your tits are even more beautiful than I imagined," he whispered. He bent and kissed them, then licked at the soft nubs of her nipples.
She loosened the waist of the skirt, pushed it down her body and stepped out of it. Then she released the zippers on the boots and cast them off. She stood before him, naked and lovely.
She sat down on the bed. "You undress, too," she said. "I want to watch."
He put his things in a neat pile on a chair.
Melissa was awed by her own feelings. She wanted to see this man naked; to view every part of him, to look at his prick and see what it was like before he stuck it into her cunt. She wanted to please this man, to be used by him and that surprised her.
The hair on his chest made him look so masculine, so animal-like, she wanted to be swept up by him and crushed to his body.
She liked the cock she was viewing. It would be heaven to be fucked by such a man and she wished that he would hurry and get on with it.
She settled back on the bed, lay quietly, waiting for him.
"Stick your cock into me before I change my mind." She heard the words, and. it sounded as if she was pleading.
She would remember it for the rest of her life, she told herself. It was so new, so exciting. She could feel his hot tongue dragging down across her flesh, sending twinges of pleasure from her tits to the ups of her cunt. He kissed her tits, licked around them, then worked his way down across her stomach to the area where the tuft of black hair sheltered the lips of her cunt. The closer he came to her pussy, the more she wanted to cry because it felt so good.
She spread her legs to give him freedom. Twinges of rapture darted through her.
"You'll love this, baby. I promise, you'll love it."
He was back licking her pussy and she wanted to understand what he was doing. It was easy to respond, to let him know she was a woman. The soft licking on her cunt made her quiver again and she giggled nervously.
He paused, peered up at her face. "Like it?" he asked.
She sighed happily. "I love it. It's absolutely wild."
Then he was between her legs again, licking her thighs, thrusting his tongue into her cunt, lapping the little nub that triggered all sensation. He flicked at her clitoris, lapping up the sweet cuntjuice that welled from her.
She raised her ass and moaned.
"Oh Jesus, I want to fuck! Please, let's fuck!"
He crawled up over her, supporting himself on one arm while he aimed his cock at her slippery cunt. She thrilled again at the touch of his prick, anticipating when he would thrust it into her. This is it. Finally, this is it. His cock is there and soon he'll be fucking me.
She could see the huge shaft of flesh aiming toward her pussy, rushing forward to force entry into her eager cunt. Then he was inside her, his stiff cock fucking her hot pussy.
She could feel his immense balls banging against the crack of her ass and the pressure he was exerting on her pussy was doing things to her.
How different this was from the way Martin always fucked her. His was a slight, wishy-washy, push-in pull-out routine that was very boring. Jesus, why couldn't he fuck like Roger!
She clenched her fists, straining to hold still so he could fuck her better. She was cooing, whispering words, blurting a passion she had never known before.
"Fuck me, Roger! Push it hard! Slap it, oh fuck me, please! Fuck. Fuck! Fuck hard, Roger!"
He was driving his cock into her begging cunt like a plunging piston. Then as the sensations began to build within her cunt, she swung her head back and forth, as if keeping time to his thrusting cock. Her arms encircled his neck, holding his head down while his ass rose and fell.
"It's good, Roger. It's so good. Push your cock real deep, honey. It hurts so good! I love the way you fuck! Do you hear me, Roger? I love you fucking me!"
She could hear him panting and could feel his hot breath on her cheek. He was fucking so fast that she couldn't keep track of his movement.
She really didn't care. He was fucking her and that was all that mattered. Do you realize that, Martin? I like the way Roger is fucking me! He sucked my cunt; he licked my tits! I wish now I could have sucked his cock! You know, Martin, I feel sorry for you! You don't even know what good fucking is!
She felt his body jerk as he ejaculated and after another hard thrust, he fell flat on her, limp and breathing hard. She rubbed his back, felt the soft skin of his ass, then reached down and stroked his balls. The soft hair gave her another sensation of pleasure and she realized that she had been missing so much.
Fucking was wonderful, she decided. It was also profitable. She realized now that she hadn't received any money from Roger for sharing her body, but somehow she didn't care. Fucking him had been so much fun that, if he should ask again, she would do it again, for nothing.