Patricia stood before the mirror with her eyes half-shut against the reflection of her nude body, as the vivid memory of her brief affair with Mark completely permeated her soul with unfulfilled yearning. To this day, she had remained true to his memory, hoping somehow he would be able to find her in the vast cosmopolitan city that she now felt lost in. A few days after she had driven away from his rented cabin, she had written him a long letter, telling him of her deep feelings and why she had left in such haste, but the letter had been returned unopened… he had left the cabin, with no forwarding address.
She walked back over to the bed and stretched her naked body over the soft mattress, as the memory of Mark and his lovemaking gradually drained her earlier ambitions of job hunting. She reached down and placed her long fingers over the hot pulsating moistness at the opening of her cunt, still feeling the pressure of his body driving into hers during those magical two weeks. Her body flinched in surprise as the touch of her own hands brought forth small shoots of electricity surging through her loins. God she was hot! She drove her fists into the soft mattress at the total frustration that enveloped her ripe body, praying silently that somehow she would be able to find him again.
A soft knocking at her bedroom door interrupted her enraptured thoughts, and she quickly drew the bedspread over her nakedness.
"Who is it?" Patricia called.
"It's just me," Jennifer answered. "Are you decent?" Without waiting for an answer, the girl pushed the door open and came into the room. She stopped short in apparent surprise when she saw Patricia's naked body outlined under the thin bedspread. "Oh, you're not dressed… and here it is almost noon! Well, never mind, dear, I'm not that prudish, you know."
Patricia blushed at her last remark, knowing it was directed at her shy habit of either leaving the room or turning her head away whenever she walked into Jennifer's room and found the girl in the nude. Which happened very frequently, since Jennifer seemed to spend most of her time either naked or in a scantily-dressed condition. The girl never missed an opportunity to tease Patricia about this – and though Patricia tried to cure herself of her innate shyness when confronted by the nudity of her own sex, she could never seem to get over the silly inhibition.
Jennifer was an intelligent girl, and Patricia envied her self-assuredness and composure that she seemed to maintain under any and all circumstances. However, the novelty of Jennifer's way of life was beginning to pall; she knew she didn't really fit into her group because they had an entirely different up-bringing from her and, besides, they had never known the security of a home life which Patricia found she still longed for. Maybe her rebellion against her parents didn't mean that she rejected their philosophy of life entirely… maybe she had been wrong to leave home in such haste.
"What's wrong?" Jennifer asked. "You look down in the dumps."
"Oh not much, I guess," Patricia answered, halfheartedly gazing back at her roommate, and secretly envying her beautiful dark looks.
Jennifer Hunt was a tall and lissome, dark-haired girl in her late twenties who seemed to maintain a substantial income from the rental of the two small beach bungalows, and working part-time as a model. Many times before, Patricia had urged her to show the stills of her past modeling, wanting to compare them to her own portfolio, but each time, Jennifer had put her off, making the excuse that they were not really good samples of her work. Finally, Patricia had stopped asking, silently resenting Jennifer's reluctance to show them, and passed it off as Jennifer's subtle way of fighting competition within the trade.
Now, she stood before Patricia in full confidence, dressed deliberately in the sloppiest fashion possible. At the moment, she wore a faded polo-necked sweater and a pair of tight, blue jeans. They had shrunk through countless immersions in the washer until they now stretched only as far as the girl's calves, while around her crotch, they clung so tightly that the outline of her sex was plainly visible. Her long, dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders in uncombed tangles, almost hiding one side of her face. Jennifer wore no makeup, and relied on the sun to softly tan her cheeks to a soft amber tone, though it did little to hide the perpetual circles of dark around her eyes, mementos of a thousand sleepless nights high on Benzedrine or other pep pills. The whole effect served to give her a striking, gaunt appearance that was not totally attractive, in spite of her classical, even bone structure.
Jennifer carried herself with the casual, sleek grace of a stalking panther, her hips slim and narrow, jutting up to her amply ballooning breasts, still firm enough to hold their shape without the support of a brassiere. Now, as she ambled over to where Patricia sat, her buttocks rippled under the tight material, revealing their firmly-rounded fleshiness with each step she took.
"Cheer up Sport," she said. "I've got some good news for a change. First and foremost… I'm going to throw a blast tomorrow night. God knows it's about time, this place is getting too dull for words. And to liven up the show, I'm going to treat my guests to a super new supply of hashish." She laughed at the surprised look on Patricia's face. "Well, don't just sit there like you've got a bad taste in your mouth," she said good-naturedly as she flopped into the over-stuffed easy chair by the window, "you know, I must say you're just about the most unhip roommate I've ever had, and to change all that, this time I'm going to insist that you have a few puffs with the rest of us."
Patricia smiled, ignoring her last comment. She had never tried hashish before, and wasn't really interested in getting "high", but Jennifer always insisted that she was missing a good thing by not trying the drug… perhaps this time she would.
"So what else is new," Patricia asked drily, lighting up another cigarette.
"Just wait till you hear this!" Jennifer jumped up from the chair with a new wave of enthusiasm and sat next to Patricia on the bed. "Two real good friends of mine, Larry and Ellen Holmes, are looking for new models. They run a photo studio over in Santa Monica, and they've got a big reputation in the business."
"That sounds great," Patricia said, "what do they specialize in?"
"Well, 'er… right now they're looking for cheesecake models, you know, the fresh dewy type, like in the Playboy foldouts." She placed her hand on Patricia's arm. "Pat, I know you're just the type to fill the bill, I'd go myself, if I were a few years younger."
"I don't know," she hesitated, "I never thought of posing for pin-ups before… besides I'm mainly interested in breaking into fashion… not, something like that."
"Don't be a fool." Jennifer took the cigarette from Patricia and took a deep drag. "You've been pounding the pavement for months with no luck yet. Hollywood is a tough place, kid, and I'm giving you a chance to at least get a start. Larry phoned me this morning, and I set up an appointment for you. If you want to back out, that's up to you, but don't say you never got a chance at it."
"I'm sorry, Jennifer, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful… I'm just not sure I want to get into that type of modeling."
"Listen, believe it or not, I do happen to know people who have perfectly respectable businesses!" Jennifer chided. "Larry and Ellen, incidentally… they're brother and sister… operate this legal, absolutely proper pin-up concern. Artistic, glamour pictures… some in the nude, some in lingerie. And they pay fifty dollars an hour, even for models like you without experience! If nothing else, at least be practical. How many weeks do you have to go before your savings run out?"
"Only a few," she said slowly starting to accept the idea. The last thing she wanted to do now was to go back home a failure and prove to her parents that they were right from the beginning.
"Well, if you really think it's wrong to pose in your underwear or in the nude… forget it. I know Larry and Ellen want their models to look natural and relaxed when they pose."
Patricia leaned back on the pillow, unconsciously letting the bedspread slip down the rising buds of her pointed nipples. The thought of posing for Larry and Ellen Holmes was gradually taking the shape of an exciting adventure in her mind. After all, hundreds of famous actresses had started their careers by posing for such photos, and had gone on later to greater fame and stardom. During her adolescence, she had secretly nursed her dreams on the glossy issues of Hollywood magazines, which was her one escape from the dull suburban reality that she lived in. These dreams had always inspired her, and was actually the reason why she chose a modeling career in the first place. She could remember all of her girl friends in high school, always talking of marriage and a family, but she had never been attracted to the thought of long years of dull, routine, boring home-life. No, that was definitely not the life for Patricia Massey, and she had known it for years.
During those long peaceful nights in Mark's arms, she had confided these dreams to him while they were resting from the heated exertion of their lovemaking. Those moments had been wonderful and unforgettable, with just the two of them alone together, sharing their individual hopes and aspirations. He had admitted to her that he saw himself as an avant-garde novelist, writing stories which depicted the hypocrisy that existed in the social mores of the twentieth century. Most of all, he wanted to play his part in the sexual revolution which was now gaining momentum by helping to destroy the final remnants of Puritanism and neurotic guilt which still prevented complete freedom in the arts.
His visions had inspired Patricia, and that night he told her of a world where sex and nudity were accepted everywhere without fear and shame. She could recall the passion in his voice when he spoke, and now she wanted to help him in her small way by proving to herself that she could live up to his beliefs. She might be playing only a tiny role in the emancipation of sex by posing for nude photographs, but at least she would be taking part in it.
The thought of this new adventure of free expression sent tiny shivers of excitement up her legs and back, and suddenly she felt very grateful to have such an unselfish friend like Jennifer. She looked at Jennifer with a new sense of admiration and friendship for the girl.
"You must think I'm awfully stupid," she said, leaning over and squeezing Jennifer's hand. "Of course, I'd love to have the job… when do I start?"
Jennifer looked back at her with surprise. "Well!" she exclaimed, "I'm glad to see that you're using your head, for a while there I was sure you were going to turn Larry's offer down. But, before I call him back, are you sure you don't want to think it over a little longer?"
"No… no, I'm positive about this, Jennifer. I feel sure now that this might be the big break I've been waiting for, it just took me a little while to get over the shock… that's all."
"That's great, kid," she said. "I made your appointment for Monday morning so you'd have a little time to rest after the party, at least you'll have something to celebrate now." She glanced down with admiration at Patricia's firm, white breasts. "I know Larry and Ellen will be very satisfied with you, so don't get stage fright."
Patricia blushed and pulled the bedspread up to her shoulders, not realizing before that she had been so exposed to her roommate's eyes.
"Oh, come now," Jennifer mockingly drew her own arms in front of her. "You'll have to get rid of some of that prudery before Monday, if I bother you, how do you think you'll react before a camera… with a man behind it!"
Patricia blushed again and nodded her head. "I know I'm shy, Jennifer… but I can change… I know I can." Then a thought struck Patricia. "Incidentally, how long have you known Larry and Ellen?"
"A few years," she replied. "On and off, that is, you know how it is in the trade. But don't worry, I've done lots of posing for them before, and you have nothing to worry about."
"Did your work with them ever lead to anything else?" Patricia asked.
"Anything else like what?" Jennifer said giving her a strange look.
"Well… like bigger stuff… you know what I mean… magazine work, talent scouts…"
Jennifer smiled. "No, I'm afraid it didn't," she said. "For one thing, I don't have your innocent, fresh appeal… besides, I was already too experienced and cynical when I met Larry and Ellen to be a new discovery. You have to understand that what people want in their sort of business is girls who show their bodies off but still retain a quality of innocence… as if they don't really know what sex is all about…"
Jennifer had a sad, distant look in her eyes and her lips were set in a firm line as she paused and took another drag off the cigarette. Patricia felt a sudden rush of sympathy and compassion for her roommate, for she realized that Jennifer's maturity had been forced upon her at an earlier age. She had grown up too fast, experiencing everything there was to see and live, and now, sitting there so close to her, Patricia realized what it was that made Jennifer seem incomplete: she had no more dreams to dream, or ambitions to seek… That's why she lived, for the here and now, and getting "high" was probably her only escape from the self-made prison that enclosed her.
"Whatever that inner spark is that a photographer seeks, I just didn't have it," Jennifer continued. "I don't think I ever had it." She made a gesture as if to shrug off the solemn mood that permeated the room, but the bitterness in her voice and words saddened Patricia, though she knew there was little she or anyone could do to help Jennifer.
Jennifer leaned back on the end of the bed and put her hands behind her head. "Anyway, let's change the subject, talking about myself is just about the dullest thing I can imagine!"
Patricia could feel the warmth of Jennifer's thighs next to her feet under the thin material of the bedspread. They were slightly trembling and despite the older girl's outward display of cool cynicism, Patricia could see that her eyes were slightly moist with unshed tears.
"Don't be afraid to show your true feelings around me," Patricia said with understanding. "You're my best friend, so don't try to act so cool and detached. If there's anything you want to get off your chest, you can tell me… but don't keep it all locked up inside you Jennifer, I can't stand to see you suffer like this."
Jennifer looked up at her with hopeless misery in her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and trembling.
"Oh Pat… I could tell you so many things," she half whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Then tell me Jennifer… I'm not trying to pry. I don't care how you've lived before," Patricia urged her softly. "You'll feel a lot better after you've talked about it. It might make a tremendous difference to confide in someone… someone who's really sympathetic and only wants to help you."
Jennifer crawled up to the front of the bed and positioned herself next to Patricia like a small child seeking comfort from her mother after a bad nightmare. "My story," she began, her eyes staring fixedly across the room… "is as old as time itself… I loved and lost. Only there is one slight difference: the person I loved and who rejected me happened to be another woman."
Patricia froze! A strange, sinking feeling… like the first downward dip on a roller coaster churned inside her stomach. But there was nothing she could do about her position, after all, it was she who urged Jennifer to tell her her problems, and she had to stick it out now, or the older girl would never have faith in anyone… ever again.
She continued to listen breathlessly as Jennifer related, in brief, unemotional terms, the facts of her first love affair, a growing curiosity awakening in her as she looked down at the older girl and realized that she had known the intimate caresses of another member of her own sex.
Patricia herself had never, so far as she was aware, ever met a lesbian before now. Certainly, she had never been approached by another girl or even felt the slightest desire to experiment with bodies identical to her own. But gradually, as Jennifer's voice calmly narrated her early experiences, Patricia could feel a slowly mounting interest in such strange pleasures. It was as if she were a small child again, becoming aware that there existed certain mysterious areas of behavior which, up to the present, had been completely forbidden to her.
She lowered her eyes and tried to hide the spark of growing excitement within her as Jennifer told her of the earlier painful experiences she had endured as a young girl. When Jennifer was fifteen, she had fallen helplessly and totally in love with a much older girl, who, in return, had merely used her as an instrument of pleasure. Jennifer found out later that she meant nothing more to the lesbian than a soft, exciting body which she could use and instruct in the secret delight of Sapphic love.
When the older girl had finally tired of her and gone on to convert another "fresh" inexperienced novice, Jennifer let herself go completely, and even to this day had never been able to shake off the memory of that first, gloriously fulfilling love affair. Over the years that followed, she had gradually integrated herself successfully with the more liberal, arty, types of Manhattan Beach, knowing that these people would not chastise her for the way that she chose to live.
"… But don't think I'm completely homosexual," Jennifer finished. "This may sound a bit strange to you, but I like men just as much as girls. You're so young now you might not understand what I'm saying right now, but to me… affairs aren't that enduring. You go to bed, enjoy sex with another person… man or woman, and in the bright light of day that follows, you still know nothing at all about their inner feelings. It's all for the pleasure of flesh, and releasing your physical needs and when your current interest begins to fade, there's always someone else to fill the vacancy." Jennifer's voice broke and a stifled sob escaped, softening the bitter tone of her voice.
On sudden impulse, Patricia moved her hand almost instinctively to Jennifer's head and started to stroke her hair gently, not saying anything, just trying to show her that she sympathized and understood. There was no other way to show the older girl how deeply she regretted the bitter disillusions and suffering that she must have gone through in the past years.
Jennifer turned and for the first time during the long discussion, looked deeply into Patricia's eyes. "Can you understand me Pat? Can you understand how I got the way I am today?" Her eyes were full of misery as she reached her hand up to the side of Patricia's face and gently brushed her fingers across the soft, firm flesh in a light caress.
"Y-yes, I do understand… and, it's made me feel very close to you… very close."
She whispered the last words, hearing her voice tremble and murmur them in warm response to Jennifer's needs. Her hand was still resting on Jennifer's head, her fingers now entwined in the girl's long, dark hair. She felt as if she was on the brink of a staggering discovery about herself, as if Jennifer had unwittingly stirred desires deep within her that she had never before recognized.
Her thoughts rushed through the complexity of her mind like a series of electrical impulses, knowing immediately what the final answer would be. Freedom of sexual expression, after all could go as far as the two persons participating would agree upon, and Patricia truly wanted to give her body to Jennifer to prove that sex could be an emotional as well as a physical relationship. And it would be so much more meaningful than the "one-night-stand" bed partners which her roommate had met before. Besides, she was terribly intrigued by Jennifer's frank account of her homosexual activities. The story had aroused her to a point where she now felt an almost uncontrollable urge to find out for herself what the caresses of another girl would be like…
"W-would you like to make love to me, Jennifer?" she whispered, scarcely believing her own words.
The older girl narrowed her eyes, ran them wonderingly over Patricia's blushing, downcast face. "Do you really want me to?" she asked, not being able to hide the trembling excitement in her voice.
"Oh, yes… Yes I do, more than anything!" Patricia's heart was thudding crazily beneath the bedspread as though it were going to jump right out of her skin. She was afraid for a while that Jennifer might think that she was being too forward in her enthusiasm, but she didn't care now as long as everything was agreeable to the girl lying beside her. After a long silence, Jennifer finally raised her arms and gently enclosed them around Patricia's narrow waist.
Patricia took a deep, trembling breath and exhaled, feeling all the pent-up tensions finally releasing themselves from her tortured body, for she knew that she had reached the point of no return. She felt strangely passive, as if she had given up her freedom of choice when she made the initial approach to Jennifer, and was now unable to do anything but follow down the path the other girl led her.