Mimi's head fell. She pouted her lips, thought a moment. Tuition… this was her tuition money; she owed it to herself to cooperate. "Well… okay. But turn your back."
She could feel the color filling her cheeks at even the thought of undressing in front of a man. School or modesty… those were her choices.
"Okay, I have my back turned," he said. Patience. That was the only way to handle girls like Mimi – shy girls. Unfortunately, as he'd learned in the business, they were the ones with the fantastic bodies, the sex appeal. The countrified fresh girls who've never been naked in front of a camera before. Girls who didn't even know they were sexy and, who in their very innocence, reeked of sex. Getting them naked, now that was the trick.
Strip. Mimi's mouth was bone dry with nervousness. Take off your clothes, take off your clothes, her brain chanted, demandingly, so demandingly in fact, that the chestnut haired lovely forgot the simple element of degrees. To be immodest was to be immodest, she rationalized and forgetting about her Levi's, she started fingering the buttons on her blouse, tossing his ultimatum back and forth. This money he was offering her was enough to pay her tuition for one semester at least. And mindlessly, she undid the buttons one by one, until the cotton blouse was down to the knot, open to her narrow waist. The embarrassed girl felt a little chill as the barn air brushed over her smooth naked belly, and despite herself, she could feel her tiny nipples begin to perk up under the taut nylon of her bra. With both hands, she reached around and unfastened the snap on her Levi's and tugged on the zipper till it whined its way down to her pubic mound. She let the Levi's fall over her hips to her knees, then she stepped out of them, kicking them to top a pile of hay. "Okay, Mr. Dobkins… you can turn around now," she whispered, dollar signs flashing in front of her eyes.
Mr. Dobkins, expecting to see his model dressed in her blouse and panties, spun around, and his eyes popped open wide with disbelief as he gazed at the trembling, blushing beauty standing before him. He sucked in his breath and straightened, inwardly chuckling to himself. God, this girl was something else. From Miss Priss herself to near naked in two minutes… that was fast work. If she went this far on her own… how far would she go if pushed?
He took in her beauty from the smooth unblemished flow of her neck where it curved down to the jutting, ripely formed mounds of her breasts, swelling proudly under the sheerness of her nylon brassiere – to the trim inverted curve of her waist to her full hips swelling to curvaceous perfection and, certainly not least, to her long shapely muscular legs blossoming in firm fullness at her thighs, then again in the supple gracefulness of her well-turned calves. What a hunk of meat! Christ, if he could get her naked and positioned up against the horse… what a hell of a shot! He was staring at dollar signs now. The magazine would pay a fortune for a full page color shot of her! Dynamite! "Jesus, you're gorgeous…"
Mimi stared down at her sandaled feet, her face the color of autumn apples, and just as shiney. "Please, Mr. Dobkins… don't talk like that. Let's… Let's just get this over with… huh?"
He couldn't take his eyes off her for even an instant. "Sure, honey… It'll be all over before you know it. But first… let's have a peek at the rest of you… You know how much a model like you could make an hour? Fifty dollars to a hundred and fifty at least… God, kid, I could make you rich! But I've got to know if you have any scars of deformities. Let's give Dobkins a peek, huh?" The gums of his teeth showed with that smile and his surfer blonde hair fell over his forehead in strands.
"You really think so?" interrupted Mimi, suddenly feeling as if God had smiled on her, answering all her financial problems in one afternoon. She reached behind with both hands and unclasped the three catches of her 32-D brassiere. "See… I haven't got any scars," letting her bra slide down over her bare arms. Her proud young breasts quivered vulnerably in the open air and she could feel her tautly upthrust nipples harden instantly as Dobkins' riveting appraisal locked on them. They stood up firm on their own, without the slightest sag, her rigid, pink-hued buds thrusting boldly straight ahead like two tiny pink eyes returning his eager gaze.
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes left the twin jutting bulges of her fully ripe breasts, following down along the smooth unblemished expanse of her flat belly, past the puckered indentation of her perfect navel… all golden tan as ripe wheat.
"Now the panties…" he said, almost afraid to push his good luck any farther.
She complied unhesitantly, feeling like Queen for a Day, she caught the tight elastic waistband of her panties and peeled them down over the gentle swell of her flaring hips. She pulled her modest white panties down past her knees, exposing a chestnut vee of velvety pubic hair.
Mr. Dobkins was near delirium, his eyes glazed with growing lust as he eyed the gorgeous, full-bodied girl who was peeling down to naked flesh. Nude girls were nothing new to him… Christ, he was bored with them… but this little honey. Virginal, innocent, naturally beautiful!
"I… am I okay?" Mimi asked sheepishly, wrinkling up her nose, her voice cracking. Her cheeks were two scarlet patches that looked like someone had splashed them with two quick strokes from an artist's brush.
"Now just stand still… do everything I tell you to, and we'll both make money…" replied Dobkins, loosening the collar to his short shirt, perspiration rolling in beads down his neck.
She was the most delicious perfection of womanhood he'd seen for a long time – not since that young surfer Polynesian from Hawaii. He grinned, his piercing dark eyes two murky pools of lust as he anticipated his plans for this delectable young beauty. He tried to imagine what that warm moist, inviting crevice between her long legs would be like… he knew it would be tight and hot – it would just have to be… and those gracefully long legs would wind so perfectly around his back as he furrowed wide that sweet warm slit of hers until she begged for mercy. But he could see she was no shopworn working girl, not some broad he could just climb on like so many of the others he took photos of. He knew this young filly was something special, and he'd have to plan his moves ever so carefully…
"Yes… we're gonna get some great shots of you. First," he directed, pointing with a trembling finger at the pitchfork leaning against the cool whitewashed stone wall of the barn, "… let's get this hay into a better pile and then I want you to lay down over there on top of it… then we'll bring in one of the horses and have you kneel next to him… you know, a little touchy, feely…?" Huh, kid? Money, money, money…
"Ummmm…" Mimi eyed the man suspiciously.
With a sense of utter humiliation, Mimi, still in the nude, swaggered to the wall, picked up the pitchfork and started forking the hay into a neat pile. The air billowed with dust and she heard a deep grunt, turning in time to see Mr. Dobkins fluttering hands covering his camera lens with his shirt. Now he stood with his bare chest naked to her, and that seemed to quiet her fears of nudity a little.
"Gotta keep the dust from getting under the lens…" he defended.
She turned to face him, setting the pitchfork back in its place. "I'm sorry… I didn't think…"
"That's okay, kid…" he laughed nervously. "Now just lie down… fan out your hair… and look to the side… not at the camera. You do want the money, don't you?" he subliminally goaded. "Why you could be knocking down two hundred a day…"
Mimi decided not to argue and got down on her haunches to spread out on the hay, prickly and sweet smelling. She squirmed uncomfortably as he fumbled with the camera.
"No, now spread out," he said.