I still can’t believe how fast this all happened. One minute I’m tending fields in Nebraska and the next, I’m whisked off to New York City. My agency told me it made for a good backstory–a nineteen year old girl who worked hard on a farm all her life was discovered and brought to New York to become a supermodel. I didn’t get why that made for good press, but it was all over the papers.
I had done all I could so far–the 4am photo shoot to add to my portfolio, the 7pm being-dragged-away-from-dinner shoot for some high street clothing brand, even the midnight wake up call to do a late interview with some glamor magazine. My life wasn’t my own on the farm, and it wasn’t my own here. The two jobs weren’t so different in that regard.
I sat in the waiting room unsure of myself. Today was the day of the nude shoot. There were four other girls similar in age to myself all seated around me flipping through vogue and similar magazines, comfortable in their robes which was the only thing dividing their naked flesh from the world. I sat there holding the robe as tightly as I possibly could, my arms folded and legs squeezed tightly together. These women were flawless, they were the models you saw on billboards. How could I compete?
“Angie,” The first of us was called in. Angie was a dark-skinned girl from the Caribbean. I didn’t know the story; I just saw bits as I aimlessly browsed the internet a few days ago. What I did know about Angie was that she was said to be the next big thing. She got up and just dropped her robe, right in front of the rest of us. No one stared, but I couldn’t help myself from looking–such confidence. I just hoped I could be as half as brave as her.
Once she walked into the other room, a series of clicks and a few words I couldn’t make out traveled into the quiet waiting room. I could feel my heart beating against my chest, so loud that I thought the other girls might notice. I couldn’t back out of this without it making its way into some form of social media, and then I’d look like a failure. I didn’t have anything worth going back to so I knew this was my only chance for a real life–even if I didn’t control my schedule.
“Sarah!” Another girl’s name shouted from inside the room. This girl didn’t drop her robe and catwalk into the set, but she did undo the thin, cotton belt that kept it closed and let everything hang out as she walked. I couldn’t compete with them, with any of them.
The same pattern followed, a series of clicks and what I made out to be words of encouragement. The longer I sat here waiting to expose myself, the more I started to regret leaving the comfortable life of farming, the comfortable life of boyfriends and road trips, the comfortable life of never having money but never needing money. Now I was booked into five star restaurants, sleeping in five star hotels, and required to pay five star prices with the money I made. It was a vicious cycle of making a lot to spend a lot. It’s how they kept you in the business. You’d think your agency would cover everything, but that’s only for a short time. Once you had the money, you had to look after yourself.
“Cindy!” After the third girl left, there was just myself and one other. It seemed like it didn’t take that long for each person to finish the shoot, but I knew when I got up to have my go at it, it would feel like it was taking forever.
The last girl left in the room with me was Claire. She’d been around for two years now, and this was probably her hundredth nude shoot to add to her ever expanding portfolio. She caught me gazing at her beauty, and that awkward connection occurred. I looked down at my robe a little flustered and more nervous than ever.
“First nude?” She asked from across the room, the first model to speak to me since I started within the industry.
“Y-yes,” I stuttered as I tried to get the words out to her. I didn’t know if she’d be the cosmopolitan-sipping-type girl that laughed in my face or a genuine person that valued people’s feelings.
“Don’t worry. I worked with the photographer before. Liza Hewitt is amazing. She really works wonders with nude women.” Before I could respond to her, she was shouted into the room, leaving me alone.
I didn’t know exactly what to think or feel. I’d heard of Liza Hewitt before, and if a two-year running model said it was okay, then I guess it was okay. Then again, she probably had confidence and beneath that robe, a body that would make me feel guilty about eating my next meal.
I just sat quietly, playing with my thumbs and praying that the fire alarm would go off so that the day would be cancelled and then my schedule wouldn’t allow this situation to happen again for a very, very long time.
Crap. I stood up, robe held shut. I paced into the room and was greeted by a woman who began pulling at the white cotton keeping my naked flesh from the world.
“Come on, take this off. Stand over there. Liza is waiting.”
I kept hold of my robe. I wouldn’t let her pull it off. She kept staring at me waiting for me to let go, but I wouldn’t; I couldn’t.
I noticed an entire audience of men all seated in a row looking at me from behind the photographer like they were here to judge me and decide my future. It only made me more determined to not do the shoot.
“Let go of it Anne, or we’ll have to cancel this shoot.”
That’s exactly what I wanted.
“Oh leave the poor girl alone. C’mon, it’s her first time, and as I recall, I didn’t do a nude until my fifth year as a model. C’mon, everyone out.” Liza Hewitt, photographer and ex-model. Her career ended by choice at the age of thirty-one which was a smart move since a model’s shelf life usually ends in their late twenties anyway.
Everyone got up and began to leave out the back. The woman who tried to steal my robe away from me gave me a cold glare and then walked past me the way I’d come in, leaving just me and Liza in the room.
I nodded at the photographer and took my place in front of a white backdrop with blinding lights shining at me from all angles.
I took a deep breath and dropped the cotton to the floor, then kicking it aside so that it wasn’t in the shot. My naked body was on show for Liza and her camera and soon would be for the world to see. They were going to cover up certain areas using digital editing rather than using body paint. I guess it saved them a lot of time and also meant I could be rushed off to my next event, interview, or shoot straight afterward.
“Okay, now just pose naturally. Don’t look so stiff. This isn’t for an advertisement. I’m just trying to show the world what you’ve got.” Words of encouragement that I had heard through the door as I waited in the next room before. They didn’t seem to be helping.
I awkwardly moved my limbs from side to side, putting my hand on my hip, flipping my hair back. Every pose was greeted by a sigh showing how disappointed Liza was. I couldn’t help it, I wasn’t comfortable having a full frontal photo taken. I kept trying to cover what I could by turning to my side, but Liza kept telling me to face the camera. I felt as if my career was over before it had really even begun.
“We’re meant to end the shoot here, but to be honest Anne, I’d rather we erase all of these and start this again. You’re never going to make it in this cut-throat business if you’re only willing to put in half the effort the other girls do.”
I wasn’t though. I was trying my hardest; I really was.
Liza came over to me and grabbed my waist, facing me directly towards her. She then brushed some hair out of my eyes and gently stroked down the strands until she placed them over both of my breasts. Her fingers accidentally caressed my nipples making them instantly hard as my body twitched at her warm, unexpected touch.
I could feel a strong warmth rising in my cheeks. Surely, they must be bright red. Did Liz notice? The lights beaming down on me would certainly make it all the more obvious. I had to restrain myself from getting too excited since the signs would be obvious in my current state. It was a confusing feeling, a feeling no other woman had brought upon me before. I was curious, excited, confused, scared. I didn’t really know which feeling to focus on.
“You ready to go again?” She was so close to my face, her warm breath flowing over my skin and adding to the heat in my flustered cheeks.
“Y-yes.” Stuttering became one of my more common traits since I started modeling.
As she backed away, I couldn’t help but feel the heat between my thighs causing me to sweat a little, a slight trickle from my moistening pussy leaked down my inner leg. As Liza lifted the camera to her eye, she paused and then put it back down, walking back over to me with a blank expression on her face.
“Sorry, I didn’t get this right.” Her hand began to fondle with the hair that covered my breasts. She kept adjusting the strands that were near my nipples, moving them back and forth so that both her hands were rubbing both my breasts. The longer I tried to hold back the moans that would echo through this room, the more damp and sweaty I became. Finally, I gave in. I let the softest of whimpers into the air which brought a smile to Liza’s face.
“You need to relax Anne. You’re so tense.” She ran one of her hands from my breast down to my stomach and back up again. The other made its way around my neck and into my hair. She pulled my face closer to her own and planted the softest yet most powerful kiss I had ever felt on my quivering lips. My knees felt like they would cave in at any moment leaving me on the floor helpless, but I used what strength I had to stand tall.
“You’re beautiful. There’s no need to feel so out of place. Trust me.” Accompanied by her words was her hand going even lower as it made its way back down. She ran it all the way down to my completely shaven pussy, which was a requirement for this shoot. The tip of her index finger pressed in gently, leaving a trail of soft moans and gasps once again, and she began to kiss me harder than last time leaving slight vibrations in both of our mouths as I tried to cry out in ecstasy.