Chapter 13

Carol was roaming the town, this smoggy Sunday, driving the streets of Hollywood in her small MG; she was impatient and tired.

On impulse she had brought her bathing suit: those two scraps of material that satisfied the law against nudity on public beaches. She might head into Santa Monica later to look up a boy she knew, a model with the agency.

He was alone for the summer. His parents had gone to Europe and would probably roam the Mediterranean for a while.

They had left him with a housekeeper. That woman was a laugh-old, dumpy, and rather dull, but she kept a clean house, fed him well and got him to his modeling appointments on time.

The sleek leather book with all the models' addresses in it was locked in the glove compartment. There were several guys in town who might be interested in seeing her.

There was a fellow who was going to UCLA part-time, and worked just enough to keep himself in style, in Westwood. He was tall, extremely thin yet rather muscular for a model. With light blonde hair, an extremely handsome face, and a rope-like cock, thick and long, he was one of the more popular models.

A couple of times he had fucked her in the back room, leaning her up against the dressing room door. They undressed themselves just enough to be able to connect cock and cunt.

In the waning afternoon sun, he would make her spread her legs apart and lean back. Then, without preliminaries, he ram his cock into her, fucking her roughly until the juices of her cunt came down almost in sheer defense.

Why his cock was hard so readily was a surprise to her, but he was quick, efficient, and very quiet. The first time she balled him she had not come but stood there shuddering on the brink of climax when he pulled out and moved away from her.

Despite his climax, she had thought that she would be able to hold him between her legs long enough to bring herself off.

But he had leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and walked away. Without a word. The next time they had decided to fuck he had her Up against the wall with her legs very far apart. She was closer to the ground that way, and his cock rubbed against her clitoris.

She had gotten an evil pleasure out of her climax. It was sudden, catching both of them unexpectedly. Perhaps it was the surprise that had brought him off sooner than he expected.

After his climax this time, he stood there, leaning against her for a couple of minutes before he pulled out of her.

When he did, the mixture of their come slithered down her legs.

John was nineteen-a little old for her, but the memory of his quick and uncaring handling of her irked her. It would be good to drop in on him, and see if she could get a decent fuck out of him.

And if he had company? Well, she could deal with that if it happened.

Carol sat in the small chair by the window, very straight, her legs carefully crossed to show as much of her thigh as possible. She had those legs angled so that the girl was not as aware of her legs as John was.

But of course, women rarely were as aware of those things as men.

The two of them were very sleepy-looking. Evidently they had gotten up just before she arrived and were sitting down to breakfast. The girl had a man's shirt around her, buttoned halfway. Only the long tails kept it from showing all of her ass and pussy. John had only a small pair of cutoff jeans, cut very high on the leg, pulled on, with the snap at the top of the zipper undone.

The girl had made her son coffee and Carol sat watching outside, carefully composed, waiting for it to cool.

There was little conversation. John leaned on his arms on the table, every now and then reaching up to clear his eyes as well as he could.

He had explained to the girl, picking up Carol's clue without hesitation, that he and Carol had to discuss a new portfolio for him. He had forgotten that she might be coming over.

The girl was going to the beach for the day. She finished up her coffee, suddenly, and headed for the bedroom. John and Carol were silent while she was gone. Carol sipped at her coffee. It was a good thing she had thought to bring alone the sleek black case that held some paper and some pictures from work.

If the girl got curious, there was probably a small set of samples she could show her as what would be done for John. But the girl seemed to accept the story. She came out of the bedroom, her hair pulled back into a tail down her back, in her bathing suit. She had the shirt on over it, and a pair of sandals on her feet.

She sat for a minute while waiting for a friend of hers to come over. She and John chattered amiably, small talk about school.

At the knock on the door, she jumped up taking her canvas bag with her. Stopping for a moment next to John, she leaned to kiss him, then giggled and moved away, adjusting her bra strap.

He must have kissed her nipple, quickly, Carol thought.

Then he patted her ass and lingered there a moment. She giggled again, then moved towards the door. She called good-bye to Carol too, smiling innocently.

"Does she live here?" Carol asked John, as the door closed behind the girl.

"No," he answered, then smiling, "She's here so much she really should move in. We could share the rent and both save money."

"Oh?" Carol smiled at him, and lifted an eyebrow.

He laughed.

"That wasn't why you stopped by, was it? To find out if I had anyone living with me."

"No."

"And you didn't stop by for business, I'm sure. I have a current portfolio and a whole line-up of assignments. And I don't think anyone is displeased with my work. Are they?"

"No."

"And I can't imagine any phase of the business that would be so urgent you'd have to drop by on a Sunday afternoon to discuss. I can't imagine you working on a Sunday, actually."

"Well, I'm not actually working."

"I didn't think so."

"I was driving westward, towards Santa Monica, and the beach..."

"Well, if you wanted to go to the beach, you could have gone with Annie."

"I changed my mind."

He was grinning at her, inside, and she was smiling too, inwardly, at the game they played with each other. Carol knew that they would end up in bed, but the process of getting there would be fairly interesting.

"Actually," she said, putting the coffee cup on a small table, "I wanted to show you some work that a new photographer has done. You might be interested in seeing his style. When some of the clients want to have studio work done, well, you might want to suggest this man. He's just getting started."

"Really?" He looked interested, and a little surprised. She had been teasing him, maybe, about the reason she was over here. Well, it was quite conceivable that she had no real desire to fuck him-but she probably got as much ass as she could in that place.

"Would you like to see the things I have?"

"Yes, it would be interesting."

"You mean, a new photographer?"

"Yes." They both knew that a good photographer could help out any model, by working with him sympathetically, There were small tricks in the darkroom which could improve almost any print. And care there would make a shitty day-and every model had a couple-a small obstacle rather than a dreaded terror.

"He does his own printing, of course."

"Of course." She had opened the case, and was sorting it-"You know Bruce?" She selected a blue-covered portfolio and brought it on top.

"The black dude?" She nodded. "Yes. We had a job together not too long ago. One of those integrated ones for the Fashion People..."

"Yes, I know, mass-produced clothes for mass-produced minds." They laughed.

He was relaxing, distracted. Good. Good. She had determined to seduce him, this time, to catch him off-guard so that he was at her mercy.

There was something about his dominance over her-however slight-that irked. She was going to pussy-whip him.

It wasn't a bad idea. No man or boy had ever complained about being in that state before. Of course, the most effective way to pussy-whip anyone was to do it so they weren't even aware of the control over them.

If he responded well, it might be a nice idea to keep him on a leash for a while. A long one, so that he could have his Annie, but he would come to her when she called her as surely as reeling in a fishing line.

She hadn't had a regular lover for quite a while now. Bruce didn't count. Bruce was a trick.

Money. Very nice money, but still money, that's all.

She rubbed her thighs together carefully, to squeeze the accumulating moisture out so that it dropped onto the silk of her thin panties and spread carefully. If she let the moisture go slowly then she would have a small irregular patch of fluid on her panties, which, if the heat built, would communicate itself subtly to him.

Keep the conversation on business, she told herself, and tease him as gently as you came. Be firm and cool-voiced and warm-smiled, and you'll catch him as sure as a fish in a tank.

John was becoming aware of her in small, irritating ways. At this time, he thought she had only been playing with him for a minute before getting down to business. Now, because he had started the train of thought in that direction, he picked up the small signals of her sexuality without trying.

Her crossed legs, so effectively hiding the small patch of blonde hair and the generous cunt he had twice been inside, teased him. He wanted to finish this business conversation and maneuver her into a corner and rip off a piece of her ass before she realized what was happening.

But these pictures interested him. The man who had taken them was quite good. He seemed to know the right combinations of light and shadows to do effective fashion stuff, and quality of his darkroom work was quite high. There wasn't a flaw to be found-even with his practiced eye.

John had been modeling for years; years of learning the business very carefully, so he could have the money he needed to live in fine style with a minimum of effort. Though for some people the efforts toward keeping himself up-the grooming rituals and the strict dieting and exercise, would be more work than the simple matter of an office, store or a sales gig.

He liked the work, though, as demanding as it was. The pay compensated for all the efforts. This photographer might be worth getting to know.

Then, a small shock traveled down his spine. There were some nude shots of Bruce mixed up in the bottom of the pile. Carol handed them to him to study as casually as she had passed any of the others.

Looking at her quickly, he wondered if this was a ruse of some sort, but she was cool-looking, calm-faced. She studied the pictures critically, unperturbed by the nudity in front of her.

Actually, Bruce was not quite exposed in all of the pictures. With clever poses they had managed to keep his cock obscured. Sometimes a drape of fabric covered him, sometimes the pose itself. John wondered if Carol had been there while the pictures were shot.

He wondered, too, if she had ever fucked Bruce.

It bothered him a little that she seemed to fuck a number of the models at the place. However her system worked, it was very discreet. No one actually came out and said that they'd had anything sexual to do with Carol. No one ever gossiped about anyone else and Carol, either.

John felt himself growing excited. His prick was bent inside his shorts, but already it was growing larger. It was uncomfortable to sit here and casually study pictures of a partially-nude man with a very attractive woman.

Despite the air-conditioning, she seemed to be warm. There was a small, almost invisible line of sweat on her upper lip and a faintly cunty odor seemed to waft up to him. Maybe it was perfume. But could you buy a very real smelling perfume that exuded the smell of a female in heat?

If she was in heat, why was she sitting here calmly discussing the business of photographers with him? Why didn't she follow up the very suggestive conversation they had begun with?

Damn! His prick was growing larger by the minute, and with a glance he realized that it was becoming quite evident. His thinly-worn jeans were a very poor disguise for his hard-on.

She seemed to be completely ignoring him, though. Her prattle about this fellow was disarming. Her smooth thighs distracted him each time he reached over to take a picture from her. Then, when he reached to put the picture on a pile on the table in front of him, he got a strong whiff of her odor.

His uncertainly about why she was here grew. John realized that twice now she had very effectively talked herself into a little cock. Once he had tried to avoid giving her any pleasure-so that she would come back. She did come back. The second time it was pure luck that she climaxed at all, but the satisfaction she got out of it was minimal, he knew.

John thought that if he kept leading her on with his cock, if he kept teasing her so that she wanted him badly enough, well, he would have a woman around who needed to please him, very much. Then, too, his job and his future at the agency would probably be more secure.

It could happen that she would put him down by steering jobs to other people, but it was more-likely that she would want to get him fine assignments so that he would feel indebted to her.

Being "indebted" to her was a damn sight better than being indebted to one of the fags in the office. He had little urge to fuck any of those guys in the ass to secure better work. Or to suck any of their dicks. Better to eat out some broad than to eat out some dude. He'd eaten out a couple of fags before, at another agency and the act bothered him. It wasn't actually repulsive but he still preferred woman come.

But now, this very icy blonde was turning him on; giving no hint that she was interested in taking him to bed. Or in fucking him right here as he sat on the low couch near her chair.

Carol, for her part, was careful to keep the front of her skirt smoothly stretched across the crossed legs she was teasing him with. Now she was so wet with anticipation that her panties were completely soaked at the crotch. The back of her dress, which barely covered her ass, was probably wet too.

If she could get up and moved without him seeing the back of the dress, there would soon be a spot of wetness to tease him even more.

She had noticed the growing bulge in the front of his shorts. Glancing at him carefully after she handed him a print, she watched him for a split second as he began to study the print.

Reassuring herself that his cock was still interested in her, she would then patter on, to keep his mind confused.

It was working. If she fucked him soon, and did it on her terms, to her enormous satisfaction, she would be sure to get into his pants again soon. The next time she could tease him even more, leading him on, backing him to a corner where she could use her pussy to lead him right into the trap she was mindful of setting.

Unless, of course, she decided that his cock was not really worth the trouble. He might simply be a bad lover, or a poor one for her. That Annie seemed happy with him. Of course, that Annie might have ulterior motives, too, for feeding him her cunt regularly.

They had finished the pictures and were talking business in general. As with Bruce, he was asking her opinion, and taking her answers very seriously. Bruce, however, needed his ego built. This near-grown man had little need for that.

But John was a professional, and respected the advice of anyone who could help him. John would probably be in the business as long as he cared to, j.' as long as he could keep in shape.

The talk was taking only half of her mind. The half which was paying attention to her eager cunt and to the growing matter of his cock decided that it was time to get on with the real reason for stopping by.

She leaned over, stretching, to get the pictures he had laid on the coffee table. By carefully keeping her arms close to her body and pushing on the weight of her breasts as she bent, she knew she was giving him a generous, uplifted view of her cleavage. If the neckline of the dress fell far enough he would see the pale brown of her nipples too; she was almost jackknifed, so that her crossed leg was also pushing on the breast. That brought even more cleavage in front of him.

Taking as she moved, taking a minute more than necessary, she made sure he was stirred by the sight she presented.

Then she reached for the black case and put the portfolio away.

Down to business.