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Bobbi 7 of 14: Pretty As a Picture
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Archive-Name: bobbi-07
P R E T T Y A S A P I C T U R E
I arrived at work on Tuesday morning at my normal time, but this was
not to be exactly a normal day. I would only put in a half-day today.
I was going for my interview this afternoon for my first modeling job,
and that could be my first real job as a woman. My friend Paul from
the Personnel Department had set it up for me, and I was feeling very
excited about it.
The appointment was set for two o'clock, and I would be able to leave
the store at noon. That gave me two hours to go home, change into a
dress, and get to the interview. The company that was holding the in-
terviews was on 38th Street just off 7th Avenue. That was only a few
blocks from the department store where I worked as a stockboy, but I
would need to take a cab home, and then another to the interview in or-
der to make it.
Edith was a little disappointed that we would not be able to have lunch
together today as we usually did. We had talked about the interview
over lunch on Monday, and I had also told her all about my stage debut,
and what happened with Peter.
I could also report to her that Peter had telephoned me, as he had pro-
mised to do, on Sunday evening. He and I had talked for quite a long
time then, and I had found that he shared some of the feelings for me
as I had for him. I did not want to make too much of it all yet, but
it was something that we might build on as time went on. Edith was
very pleased by what was happening in that department. "We've never
had a lawyer in the family before," she said. "Hold on to him if you
can. A mother likes for her daughter to do well like that!"
Tuesday morning passed quickly enough, and noon arrived. I picked up
my bag in the office, and Edith wished me luck. We decided to meet
later after the interview for dinner, so I could tell her all about it.
I hurried down to the time clock room to punch out, and ran into Paul.
He was there on the pretext of checking time cards, but I think that he
really just wanted to see me.
"Hi, Bobbi," he said as I entered the room. We were alone in there, so
I greeted him by blowing him a kiss. He smiled at that, and said, "I
wanted to, err... wish you luck on the interview today. I just know
that Jack is going to, err... like you. I also, err... wanted to ask
if you were, err... busy on Friday night?" I looked at him with a
sweet smile, and said, "I've got a dance class on Friday nights, but I
could meet you after that. You could come to my place." I had agreed
to be his mistress, and it was now time to make good on that promise.
"Ok," Paul said, "I'll call you tonight to find out how the interview
went, and, err... set up the time for Friday." "All right," I said.
"I'll be looking forward to hearing from you!" I punched my card, and
left the store giving my ass a good wiggle for his benefit as I walked
away. I had things to do, and places to go.
I turned right when I walked out of the employees entrance, and walked
the short distance up to 5th Avenue. There would be more cabs there
than on 39th Street. I probably could have made it from the depart-
ment store to home, and from home to the interview just as fast by
walking as by taxi with all the midtown traffic, but I wanted to look
my best for the interview. I was nervous enough about it without ad-
ding being tired and out of breath from walking fast in heels to that.
There was a cab dropping off a pudgy, middle-aged woman in a full-len-
gth mink coat in front of the department store, and I hopped in when
she got out.
Dressed in jeans and loafers as I was there was no teasing the driver
with a quick peek up my skirt in his rear-view mirror this time. All I
could do was tell him where I wanted to go, and sit back as we made our
way through the Manhattan bustle. Today could be the day that I turned
the corner. If this interview worked out it could be the start of me
being able to both live and work as a woman on a full-time basis. I
wanted that so very much. The jeans I wore were tight and sexy enough
to almost be women's jeans, but they were not. I wanted to be in a
skirt and heels all the time.
The taxi deposited me in front of my apartment building a few minutes
later. I paid the driver, and got out. I wasted no time in getting
upstairs to my apartment. I had a lot to do, and not much time to do
it. I really had to look all female today.
Once in the apartment, I went into my bedroom, and stripped off every
stitch of clothing. I took a long look at myself in the full-length
mirror. My penis was out of its usual tuck back between my legs, so
what I saw was a rather strange looking, long haired, and very effem-
inate boy. I vowed then that this would be the last time that anyone
would ever see me in that context if I could at all help it. I was
about to be interviewed for a job as a woman, and that was the way that
I would present myself from then on. I tucked my penis back between my
legs. That was where it was going to stay until I found the way to
have it removed. It was the last barrier to my being a completely fe-
male as I could be. I wanted it cut off as soon as possible.
I reached into my closet, and got out a pink satin robe which I pulled
around me. I just about had time for a quick shower, so I went into
the bathroom to let the warm, soapy water wash away the thoughts of the
morning spent as a boy. I had to be more woman that I had yet been
this afternoon. The people who would be interviewing me had me listed
as a woman, and to get the job, I could no nothing at all that would
give them any other impression. I might be able to let a few details
slide once in a while when I was at "The Gilded Grape" with the rest of
the drag queens, or even out on the street under no more scrutiny than
the quick glance of a passer-by, but this was different. These people
wanted female models, and they were going to look all of us who showed
up for the job over very carefully. I had to look good enough to best
the real girls who would be there. I had to be all the woman I could
possibly be.
I stepped out of the shower, and unwraped the towel that I had put on
my head like a turban to keep my hair dry. My real hair was long
enough now that I did not need to wear a wig. I went to the mirror to
fuss it back into the basics of the feminine style in which I now wore
it. The waves and curls had been a surprise to those who knew me as a
boy, but they passed it off as just another indication of me being a
queer. Edith liked it, and so did I, so that was that.
I toweled off, and splashed some perfumed after-bath lotion all over
myself. I was beginning to feel a lot more feminine now, and that was
just what I wanted. I put my robe back on, and headed for the bedroom.
I did not have too much time left, so I tossed the robe onto the bed,
and dipped right into my lingerie drawer. I pulled a pair of my sexy-
est black lace panties up over my legs, and tucked my penis securely
back into my crotch as far as I could stretch it. The panties were
tight enough to both hold my penis there, and make me feel like the
sexy woman that I was.
I buckled a black lace garter-belt around my waist, and hooked a pair
of my sheerest stockings to it after I slipped my legs into them. A
matching black lace bra soon was hooked around my chest, and filled as
best I could with my tiny breasts. The bra was an extra-padded one be-
cause I did not want to use my falsies in case I had to remove my blou-
se for any reason.
I put on a red silk blouse with very short sleeves, a scooped shawl-
like neckline, and buttons down the back to top off my tight black
skirt that fell to just above my knees. Am application of red lipstick
and pink eye shadow followed my foundation, face powder, and blush. A
single strand of pearls adorned my neck, and pearl dangle earrings hung
from my lobes.
I stepped into a pair of black patent leather pumps with four inch he-
els, and put on a black jacket to match the skirt to which I affixed a
pearl scatter pin. I put my things into a black patent leather bag
with a shoulder strap, and I was ready to go. I took a last look in
the mirror, and I was on my way.
Out on the street again, I walked up to 8th Avenue to hail a cab. It
was about 1:30PM, so I still had half an hour to get to the interview.
I got a whistle from some men who were digging up the street, so I knew
that I had accomplished what I had set out to do. I looked as much
like a woman as I could. I only hoped that I looked good enough to get
the job.
It only took a short time to find a cab, and we were off into the beep
and creep of midtown traffic. It took some twenty minutes to get to
the address that I had given the driver, so I arrived at the building
with about ten minutes to go before my appointment. I paid the driver,
and went upstairs to find the coat company. There were about fourteen
other women in the reception area when I arrived.
"May I help you?," said the receptionist as I approached. "I'm here
about the modeling job," I said with a smile. "All right, she ans-
wered, "so are the others here. Fill this out, and take a seat. Jack
will be with you in just a few minutes." She handed me a simple name
and address form which I filled out while I sat waiting for Jack. I
also took out the note from Paul to give him with the form. Some of
the others had noted or letters too, so I thought it would be a good
idea.
A few minutes later a short, middle-aged, and very well dressed man
came out of the office entrance to the reception area, and introduced
himself to the group. It was Paul's friend Jack, and he asked, "If you
ladies will please follow me, we can get started now." We all rose
almost in unison, and followed Jack through the door into the offices.
I was the sixth in line, and when I went through the door I found my-
self in a wide corridor with doors going off it in all directions.
People were bustling about off to the left along the longest part of
the corridor, but we turned right where only three doors awaited us.
The first door was unmarked, the second had a sign that read "Board
Room" on it, and the last at the end of the corridor said "Showroom" on
it. Jack led us through this last door, and into the Showroom.
Inside was a large room with a low stage running across the wall to the
far left. The stage had a runway jutting about half way out into the
room, and around this were seats for about fifty people. There were
theatrical lights on tracks in the ceiling. This was where they held
fashion shows for the store buyers who were their customers. There
were three men and a woman sitting on the far side of the runway from
us. "Take a seat, ladies," said Jack, "and we will explain what we are
looking for."
We all sat down, and Jack mounted the runway to face us. "I want first
to thank you all for coming here today," he began in even tones with
only the hit of a slight Brooklyn accent that he was desperately trying
to hide. "We are looking specifically for models for our new spring
line of all-weather coats, but that does not preclude other assignments
if we feel you are qualified. We need five models, so I am sorry if
that means that some of you will be disappointed. We have some defin-
ite ideas of what we are looking for. We want some new faces, so that
is why we have not called for a group of professional models. When I
am finished I want you all to line up across the stage in the same or-
der that you entered the room. If you have portfolios or purses, leave
them at your seats. If you have jackets, coats, or sweaters, please
leave them also. Bring your referral letters, and the form you filled
out outside. All right, ladies. Let's go."
I put my purse on the seat, and folded my jacket over it. I looked
over the rest of the women there again as I walked to the stage. They
were all tall and lovely. It was also hard to believe that I could be
one of the five that would be chosen when this was over, but I had come
this far. I was not about to back out now. Maybe I would be lucky
enough to get this job. There was only one way to find out. I ascen-
ded to the stage, and took my place in line.
We all formed a long line across the stage against the backdrop cur-
tain. There was just barely enough room up there for all of us. We
must have looked like a cross between a police line-up and a chorus
line. One of the men from our tiny audience came up on stage, and
handed each of us a large card with a number on it. He took our name
and address forms too, and wrote the number we had from the card onto
them. Attached to each card was a large loop of cloth ribbon. "Put
this around your neck with the number hanging in front," he said, and
went back to his seat.
Jack then came up to us with a raincoat over his arm, and said, "What
we want you to do is the following. Each of you will put this coat on,
and walk to the end of the runway. There you will open it to show the
lining, do a turn, close the coat, and return to your place in line.
Then take off the coat, and pass it to the next girl in line. Please
wait in the line until everyone has a chance, and do not start down the
runway until we call your number. We may also ask some of you to model
the coat a second time. If you all cooperate, we will be finished
soon." Jack then gave the coat to the number one girl, and went to
take a seat with the others.
Some of the women on stage shuffled their feet nervously, and looked
like they did not know what to do with their hands while we waited for
Jack and the others to get a good look at us before we modeled the
coat. I forced myself to move as little as possible. I was trying to
show that I had the poise of a professional model. I hoped Jack not-
iced.
"All right!," called Jack out of the darkness of the audience as the
stage lights came on. "Could we have number one on the runway, plea-
se?" The girl wearing the number one put on the coat, and headed down
the runway. She was pretty enough, but with a touch of stiffness in
her walk. I was number six, so I adopted a slight pose in the way I
was standing, and waited my turn. It did not take long.
"Six, please!," came Jack's voice out of the offstage gloom at last. I
took the coat from the brunette who had just finished her audition, and
put it on. My heart was beating a little faster than normal, so I took
a deep breath. It was my turn in the spotlight.
I walked as light and delicately as I could down the runway with just a
hint of a wiggle in my hips, and my prettiest smile on my face. I re-
minded myself not to walk too fast, so they would have the chance to
look me over well. The knowledge that Jack and the others were out
there in the dark looking over every detail of me was a turn-on, and my
penis twitched a little in its tuck back between my legs in my panties.
I did my best to ignore it, and held my head high to look my best.
At the end of the runway I opened the coat, and held the right side out
to model the lining while I did my turn. I did not look down at my
audience, but stared off into the darkness above their heads. When the
turn was finished I spread both sides of the coat with my back to them,
and took my first step back toward the stage area. On the second step
I pulled the coat closed again, and headed back to the line of girls
where I had started. At the line, I turned on the balls of my feet,
slowly removed the coat, tossed my head seductively to clear my hair,
and passed the coat to the number seven girl before again taking my
pose to wait while the rest had their turn.
The number seven girl nodded her head knowingly at me when I gave her
the coat. She seemed to be telling me that I had done well. I hoped
that she was right.
It really did not take all that long to get through all the girls who
had shown up, but that fourty-five minutes seemed like an eternity of
waiting for me. I really wanted this modeling job, but I knew that I
was very different from the others. That made me all the more anxious,
and made the wait feel even longer. It was also stretched out a bit
more when they asked two girls to model the coat a second time.
Finally Jack said, "All right, ladies. Stay right there while we de-
cide." This was it! We would know in a moment if we had been chosen
or not.
Again the wait seemed to go on forever. I could head them talking in
the seats down near the end of the runway. I could not make out what
they were saying, but I could swear I heard them mention my number at
least three times. The uncertainty was agonizing.
Suddenly the house lights came on again, and Jack announced, "All
right, ladies! We have made our decision. When I call your number,
please get your things from where you left them, and come over here."
He pointed to a row of seats behind him, and held up a sheet of paper
to read. In even, measured tones he called out, "Three... Seven...
Twelve... Six... Fourteen..."
I was stunned! Jack had called my number as one of the five! The
other girls started to go and get their things, but it was as if I had
been riveted to the spot on which I stood. Somehow I had done it. I
had managed to get one of the modeling jobs over the competition of
some quite beautiful real women. I could hardly believe it. Haltingly
I went to get my jacket and purse, and joined the other four girls in
the row of seats behind Jack. I was now a model!
"We would like to thank the rest of you for coming," I could hear Jack
saying, "and we will keep your telephone numbers on file. Please do
not call us. We will call you if we need you." It was a standard
line, and one that most models know all too well. I, however, had the
job I wanted even if it was only part-time.
The girls who were not chosen came down from the stage to collect their
things, and leave. Some of them had not even waited for Jack to finish
speaking before they did. It is not easy to get a job as a model with
a top fashion house. The competition is warlike in its intensity. The
established professionals get the best spots. The coat company was by
no means a top fashion house, but it was better than a novice model
could hope for under normal circumstances.
There was no professional competition here. Just get referred by some-
one, and pass the audition. A lot of hopes died that day, but some
others were strengthened too. I was feeling very good about myself
that afternoon. I had come a long way.
"Congratulations, ladies!," Jack said to the five of us after the oth-
ers had left. "I have some other things to do now, so I cannot stay
with you, but before I go, I have two people whom I would like to in-
troduce."
The first person Jack introduced was a distinguished looking man in his
early sixties. He was not very tall, but he was well dressed in a cus-
tom tailored suit, and he had a presence about him that said he was the
one in charge. Jack introduced him as the President of the coat com-
pany, and said his name was Irving.
"I would like to welcome you all on behalf of the company," Irving
said. "I hope that your stay with us will be pleasant and pleasurable
on both sides. I hope too that we may get to know each other a lot
better very soon." Irving had put a lot of emphasis on the word
"pleasurable", and on getting to know us better. What he wanted out of
this was all too obvious.
Irving left with all the rest of the little audience as an entourage
except for the man who had given us the number cards. Jack introduced
him as Tom, and said he would be the photographer in charge of us. Tom
was in his late thirties, about six feet tall, athletic, and quite han-
dsome. I am sure that I was not the only one there who would have
liked to have gotten to know him better instead of Irving. He was
dressed in a blue blazer with grey slacks. He took his tie off as soon
as Irving was gone. He looked like he would be fun to work under!
"I will leave you ladies in Tom's capable hands," said Jack getting a
wry giggle or two out of us with the unintentional double entente. "He
will get you started, and tell you where you have to be and when."
Jack then left us, and all eyes turned to Tom.
Tom looked back at us with one of the cutest "little boy" smiles I have
ever seen. He was now our boss on this job, but even if he had not
been, I doubt there was a girl there who would not have done almost
anything he asked. Tom was a photographer by trade, but the company
retained him here as more of a director of photography, stage manager,
and manager of the models. He was responsible for the stage and its
lighting, the official company photography at any of the shows, allo-
cating show invitations to outside photographers, all catalog or adver-
tising photography, and the hiring and management of models.
The job sounded a lot more impressive than it actually was. If Tom
spent a total of thirty days a year on it, he would be doing more than
it entailed. This company was really not that big. This fashion show
stage and runway had been built as much for ego as for need. They
rented it out to other companies when they could. The company and the
jobs in it were not all that impressive. What was impressive at that
moment was the fact that I had one of those jobs as a model.
"Hi!," said Tom after a minute or two of looking us over. "Now that
they're gone, we can talk a little. I know that you're all excited
about getting modeling jobs here, but we've got some work to do now.
This job just ain't that big a deal. It pays well enough when you're
working, but you're not working all that much. What is a big deal is
the exposure. You get seen here at the couple of shows that we'll do,
you get seen in the catalog, you get seen in the ads, and you get seen
in my proofs that I show to other photographers. I'm going to give you
all a standard modeling contract. It isn't with this place. It's with
my studio."
We all sort of looked at each other at this point. I guess all of us
assumed that we would be employed by the coat company. Tom continued,
"You're assigned exclusively to this gig, but you'll be working for my
studio. You do the coats under a contract that I have with old Irving
that you met. It's a lot better for you that way. If you worked for
Irving, that would be it, but working for me, you might get an extra
assignment or two as well. The only hitch is that if you do an assign-
ment for another photographer outside of my studio staff, and notify me
of it, I get ten percent of your fee off the top. If you do it with-
out notifying me, though, I get twenty-five percent when I find out,
and you loose your contract with me. Understand?"
We all nodded, so Tom went on, "Okay! As long as we all understand the
business stuff, we can get down to what you all came here for in the
first place." He raised the inflection as he finished the sentence by
way of making it an injection of humor into what had almost become a
heavy situation.
"You all want to be models, right?," Tom asked, and we all nodded and
murmured agreement. "Okay, then the first lesson is that the photog-
rapher is boss! I don't mean to make that sound harsh, but that's the
way it is. Any creative control that you may want over what you do in
front of the lens will have to wait for later in your career. The sec-
ond lesson is that the photographer is always right! Remember, you're
new to this, and my people and I have been at it for a while. No mat-
ter what you may have learned in any modeling school, we have the ex-
perience, so trust us. The third and last lesson for today is that if
you have a problem, remember lessons one and two!"
Tom sat back in his chair to let us react to what he had said, and took
out a pipe. He filled the bowl, lit it, and then said, "Okay, if you
have no questions, I need to get a Polaroid of each of you for my file.
Will you come up on stage?" He motioned for one of the girls to join
him on stage. He posed her standing by the curtained backdrop, and
took a head to toe shot with his camera. Then he did the same with
each of us. I was the third one to be photographed.
Back in the seats, Tom re-lit his pipe, and said, "I've got an envelope
here for each of you. In it is a contract, some personnel forms, and
my business card. There is also a sheet explaining what will be expec-
ted of you when we call you in for test shots. My office will call you
this week to set up a time for those. It will be sometime next week.
That's all, girls! See you in the studio." He handed us our envel-
opes, and headed out the door. We got our things together, and started
out too. We were on our way to being models. I rather liked that.
I slipped my jacket back on, and picked up my purse. Some of the oth-
ers took a moment to open the envelopes, and glance through the conten-
ts. "Well, it looks like we're going to be working together," a buxom
blonde in a floral print dress said to me as we turned to leave. "My
name's Judy. What's yours?" I turned to her, and said, "Bobbi. Is
this your first modeling job too?" The conversation was as much to get
rid of the bit of nervousness we were both feeling after all of this,
as it was to be friendly.
"Yes," Judy answered, "I've been taking modeling lessons for almost a
year now. We did some, oh... amateur things through the school, but
this is my first real job. What school did you go to?" I was a little
surprised at the question, so I said, "I don't go to modeling school.
What made you think that I did?" Now it was Judy's turn to look sur-
prised. "Oh," she said, "it was just that you moved so well out on the
runway, that I thought you had some sort of training." I was flatter-
ed, so I said, "Thank you. I didn't go to modeling school, but I do
take dance classes." "Oh," said Judy, "then that explains it. I just
knew you had some sort of training."
We stepped through the door, and ran into Irving coming out of the
boardroom. He leered at us looking us all over with a lecherous glint
in his eyes, and said, "I hope that Tom made you girls feel welcome
here. We have a nice place, and there are lots of places an ambitious
girl can go if she knows what to do, and knows the right people." He
was not subtle at all. We could see from the way he looked our bodies
over that he had us already naked in his mind. I liked having most men
look at me that way, but I found Irving positively distasteful. The
look in Judy's eyes said that she felt the same way. We thanked him,
and continued on our way out.
In the reception area Judy said, "First hazard of being a model. The
executive who thinks we are his private stable just because he signs
the cheques. Some of the girls at school talked about it. At least he
hasn't gotten to trying to cop a quick feel yet!" There was a lot of
venom in the way she said that.
Judy and I parted company on the street. She said that she had another
appointment to go to, and she did not want to be late. We said the
usual things about going shopping together some time, and spending time
just making "girl talk" some evening. I liked Judy, and I would not
mind having her for a friend, but I wondered if we would ever get to
doing those things. Everybody said it to each other, but it only hap-
pened for real once in a while.
I decided to walk home. It was only about half past four, and I thou-
ght I might do a little shopping along the way. Actually I wanted to
celebrate! I had pulled off something that other TV's only dreamed
about. Not only had I gotten a job as a woman, but I had gotten a job
that would be envied by almost any real woman! I was floating on a
cloud! It was almost too good to be true.
I turned toward 5th Avenue, and started walking up the street. If I
was going to buy something to celebrate this momentous occasion, I wan-
ted it to be something nice, and all the best shops were there. I even
toyed with the idea of going into the store where I worked, but I was
afraid that someone might recognize me. Just as I started walking, I
heard someone call my name. It was Tom.
I walked over to where he was standing, and returned the greeting. He
said, "I've been waiting for you to come out, and I hoped you'd be
alone. I'd like to talk to you away from the others in private." I
was puzzled by this, but curious too, so I said, "Sure, what's on your
mind?" Tom shook his head, and said, "Not here. There's a bar just up
the street. Could I buy you a drink?" "Okay," I answered, so we wal-
ked to the bar, and went inside. I did not understand why he wanted to
talk to me this way.
The bar was dark inside compared with the sunlight outside. It was a
nice place. This was not some seedy dive. It was not elegant, but it
was clean with a barman in a uniform. It was the sort of place where
garment center area executives went for lunch, or for a drink after
work. We went to a booth opposite the bar, and sat down. The cocktail
waitress was there immediately.
"What would you like, Bobbi?," Tom asked. I wanted to say champagne to
go with the way I was feeling, but I settled for a gin and tonic. Tom
ordered a scotch and water, neat, and the girl went to the bar for the
drinks. When she went away, I asked, "What's on your mind, Tom?"
Tom lit his pipe, and looked thoughtful for a moment. He leaned for-
ward to me, and said, "You got that job on your own merit, but you
didn't tell us quite everything about you. Did you?" I was rather
taken aback by this, so I asked, "What do you mean?" Just then the
waitress returned with our drinks. The conversation stopped while she
put them down, and we took our first sips.
"Don't worry," Tom said as he put down his drink. "I'm not going to
say anything about it. Your secret is safe. An associate of mine and
I caught the show at 'The Gilded Grape' a week or so ago. I sometimes
go there looking for talent for one of my enterprises, and I saw you in
the chorus line. You looked very good up there. It really surprised
me, though, when I spotted you on the stage today."
I was shocked to the core! I never expected this. I took a deep dr-
ink, and tried to compose my thoughts. What was going to happen now?
I thought for a moment, and then said, "All right, but how is that go-
ing to affect this job?"
"It's not going to affect this job at all," Tom said with a chuckle.
"Look, you got this job because you have what we're looking for. You
are going to model those coats, and nobody is going to take that away
from you as long as I have anything to say about it. You're good at
that, and you'll make me look good with the photographs. To me, that
means money, and that's all I care about. I don't care what you are,
as long as you do your job."
That made me feel a little better. I still was not happy about the
situation, but it was starting to look like I could live with it. I
wanted the modeling job. I would do anything to keep it. Now all I
needed to know was what Tom really wanted out of this. He must have
more up his sleeve.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," I said. "I appreciate your telling me
right away." Tom re-lit his pipe, and blew some smoke rings into the
air above his head. "Besides," he continued, "I like putting one over
on old Irving. You were one of the ones that he was eyeing up. He
thinks that he is some sort of don juan with the models because some of
them will give him a tumble thinking they will get ahead by balling the
company president. I can't stand the old bastard." We both laughed,
and I told Tom about the meeting Judy and I had with Irving in the
hallway. We had another good laugh over that. I was getting to like
Tom.
When we finished laughing, we ordered another drink, and Tom said,
"There is one other thing I want to talk to you about," with a thought-
ful look on his face again. I knew there had to be something else. I
put on my most innocent smile, and said, "Oh? What might that be?"
"I have a lot of projects going," he said in a matter of fact business-
like way, "and you just might fit into some of them if you're willing."
Tom leaned forward to me again, and said, "Look, I don't just do fash-
ion stuff. I have photographers doing all sorts of things in both
stills and movies. I've got a business proposition for you. I have a
couple of things going that require someone with your, shall we say...
special talents?"
Tom sat back again, and said, "I'll be frank with you. The jobs I'm
talking about are nudes. Some of them are pornography. I want to do
some nude and striptease photographic layouts involving a transvestite.
If your willing to do sexual things for the camera with a male actor,
we can us it in the stills, and maybe a movie or two. We'll make you
look different from the legitimate fashion stuff with a wig and make-
up. Don't get the idea that this is some sort of photographer's lure
to get you naked. I'm not into boys. This is just a plain business
deal. You get a double fee for the stills, and standard actress pay
for movies. What do you think?" I was a little surprised to hear
myself saying, "As long as it doesn't screw up the modeling job, I'll
do it!"
I could hardly believe what I had just said. I had just agreed to do
some transvestite pornography. That was the sort of thing that Star,
one of the other "G.G.Girls" did. I had thought of asking her about
it, but we had not gotten close enough as friends for me to do that. I
had wanted to try it just for the thrill. Now this handsome photog-
rapher just asked me out of the blue to do it. I could use the extra
money too, but I did not want to hurt my standing with any legitimate
jobs I could do.
I voiced my concern to Tom, saying, "How is this going to affect the
job I just got, and any others in or out of modeling?" Tom lit his
pipe again, and said, "I've already told you that the job at the coat
company is your's, and that's that. As for anything else, well, my
studio will give you any other assignments that we feel you're quali-
fied for. Look, almost all fashion models have done some nudes at some
point in their career. Most of those have at least done cheesecake
stiff, if not actual porno. The things you're going to do are highly
unlikely to be seen by anyone who sees your fashion stuff, and we'll
make sure that you look different enough in the nudes that nobody will
ever be sure it's you."
Tom leaned toward me again, and finished by saying, "I've been scout-
ing drag queens for a while looking for the right one. I have a rep-
utation to maintain. I don't use anyone in my shots that doesn't look
good, or make me look good. You qualify on both points. If you can
pull off getting that job today, I know that you'll make me look good,
and as far as your looks are concerned, well, you're just pretty as a
picture!"
We both laughed at his little photographer's pun. Somehow I trusted
Tom. He was only interested in my body as far as he could use it to
make money, and he was willing to share that with me in model and act-
ress fees in a fair way. He was not like Irving and others like him,
who only wanted my body to paw for their own pleasure even if, like the
johns I turned tricks with, they were willing to pay for the privilege.
All Tom wanted was a business deal. That was something I could live
with.
We finished our drinks, and Tom called for the tab. "I have to get go-
ing," he said. "We'll talk more about all of this when you come into
the studio for your test shots." He paid the waitress, and we went
outside again. "You've got it, you know. There's just something about
you that makes you special. Not all models have that. Don't ever
loose it," he said, and then stepped into the street to hail a cab. In
a moment, he was gone, and I headed toward 5th Avenue to do that shop-
ping that I had started out to do an hour or so ago.
The crowds on 5th Avenue were at their height when I got there. It was
about 5:30PM, and at that time of day all the offices had let out while
some of the stores were still open. All of Manhattan's office force
were either making their way home, or shopping along with me. Night
was already starting to creep in at the edges of the lengthening sha-
dows of twilight, so it would be dark in about an hour or so. I step-
ped into a lingerie shop, and began to browse around.
I was looking at a baby-blue lace nightie when I noticed a young man
staring at me. He was in his very early twenties or very late teens.
I could see that under the sweater and slacks that he was wearing, he
was slim with muscular limbs. He had a cute little baby face which
smiled back at me when I looked at him.
"Do you like this nightie?," I said to him to break the ice between us.
"I'm always interested in a man's opinion of such things." He looked
at the whisp of nylon and lace, and answered, "I think you would look
beautiful in it. My name's Alan. What's yours?" "Bobbi," I said as
coyly as I could. "Well, Bobbi," Alan said, "I could do with some din-
ner, but I hate eating alone. Would I be being too forward if I asked
you to join me?" The offer sounded good to me, so I agreed. I just
had to be careful. He was straight as far as I could tell. It would
not do for him to find out that I was not quite all the woman he obvi-
ously thought I was.
I took his arm, and we walked up 5th Avenue to a restaurant on 45th
Street just east of 8th Avenue. It was a nice evening for a walk, so
we did not bother with a taxi. Besides, all the talking we would do
would let us get to know each other better. Alan lived over in New
Jersey, and was actually home on leave from the Army. It was not a
good time to be in the Army in those days of 1966, so I asked him what
his next assignment was going to be. "I have orders for Viet-Nam,"
came his answer.
As we talked more, I found out that he was going to a combat unit, and
that he was due to leave in two days. He did not seem scared, but
there was a definite uneasiness about him when we spoke of it then, or
when it came up later in conversation over dinner. This was his last
night in New York City before he left.
We talked about a lot of things while we ate. He told me all about his
training, and what he did in the Army. He talked about what he wanted
to do when he got out. I told him that I was a dancer and a model, but
that I was working in a department store while I got my career toge-
ther. It was not a lie.
I found myself liking Alan very much, and wanting to talk more to him.
He suggested that we go for a walk after dinner, but I said, "No, I
think that I would like to sit and talk for a while. We could go to my
apartment near here, but just talk, okay?" Alan agreed, and promised
to be a gentleman. I wished that I did not have to ask him to be that
way. I felt a physical attraction to him, but I dared not pursue that.
There was no telling what a straight guy might do when he found some-
thing other than what he expected between my legs.
We got up from our table, and I took Alan's arm again. It only took a
few minutes to walk to my apartment since it was only two blocks away.
I hoped that he would enjoy just talking like this. The last night of
a soldier's leave before he went off to war should be something spe-
cial. We went in, and I asked him to have a seat in the living room.
He sat on the sofa.
"Would you like a drink or coffee?," I asked. He nodded, and said,
"Sure, do you have any scotch?" I did, so I poured two on the rocks,
and carried them over to him. I handed one to him, and put mine on the
coffee table. Then I took off my jacket, and joined him on the couch.
"Cheers!," he said lifting his glass to me, and we both took a drink.
We continued our conversation from where we had left off. He told me
all about his plans for the future, and I felt myself warming even more
to him. I was so engrossed in listening to him that I did not notice
that he was inching closer to me until I realized that his arm was on
the back of the sofa behind me.
"You're getting a little closer than we agreed we would get, aren't
you?," I asked politely. Alan did not move, but said, "I'm sorry, but
I just feel very attracted to you. I would like to get even closer."
His words had a lot of affection in them, and I found myself wanting
him to get closer too. It was crazy to think that I might pull this
off too like I had with the modeling job this afternoon. I wanted him
to kiss me, and a lot more, but if he found out that I was not as much
of a woman as I presented myself to be, things could get ugly. Maybe
all the drinks, and the wine at dinner were clouding my thinking, but I
thought I had a way to do even this. I leaned my head back against his
arm, closed my eyes, and felt his lips press against mine.
I know now how foolish it was to be doing this with a straight guy who
did not know what I was, but I just could not help myself. I felt his
arms enfold me, and we kissed some more. I only hoped that I could
keep my penis safely out of the way no matter how it was starting to
harden in its concealment.
Then I felt his hand touch my breast, and my penis react in its tuck
between my legs. He wanted more than a kiss, and I had to do some-
thing, so I said, "I'm having my period. We can't do what you want to,
but be gentle, and maybe we'll find a way." His other hand undid the
buttons at the back of my blouse, and in a moment I wore only my bra
above my waist.
"Okay," I said, "let me get comfortable." I stood, and unhooked my
bra. My tiny breasts were not much at all, but Alan stood to suck on
the nipples while I unzipped my skirt, and let it fall to the floor.
He was sending little shivers of pleasure all through me with his
sucking and nibbling. His arms about my middle felt so good and
strong. I was almost beyond caring if he found out what I was or not.
I only knew that it felt good to be held and touched by him. He was
still kissing me while I unbuckled his belt to let his slacks drop
around his ankles.
I went to my knees before him, and slowly pulled down his briefs expos-
ing his hard, seven inch, circumcised cock in front of my face. I took
hold of his muscular thighs, and moved closer to it. I looked up into
his eyes, and he was smiling back at me. "I told you we would find a
way," I said softly to him. "We might not be able to do more than this
because of my period, but I'll make it good for you." I turned my at-
tention back to his cock placing a gentle kiss on the tip, and licking
all around the head. Alan shuddered in pleasure when I did this, and
my own little penis was throbbing like mad. I dare not even think of
it having any release this time no matter how bad I was going to need
it. I would have to take care of that myself later.
Alan sat down on the sofa again at my urging, and I took his cock in my
mouth completely for the first time. It was hot, and it tasted ever so
good. He would not have a blow-job like this again for quite a while,
so I gave him one of my best. I was also counting on getting him to
give so much this way that he would forget about trying to do anything
else with me. The story about my "period" would only go so far. If
her tried to force himself on me, he was too strong for me to resist.
I did all the things that I know best how to do with a man's cock and
balls. I licked the shaft and balls all over, taking his balls into my
mouth one at a time to juggle them on my tongue. He shuddered in ecs-
tasy when I slipped the tip of my tongue into his pee-slit to taste the
drops of pre-cum that were waiting there for me to enjoy. I raked my
nails gently over the hot crinkly flesh of his scrotum knowing full
well from personal experience what that would feel like to him.
At last I took the full length shaft of Alan's cock into my mouth, and
began to move my lips up and down as I worked it in and out of my mou-
th. I started out slowly letting him enjoy each stroke while I contin-
ued to play with his balls with my hand. Then I moved faster and fas-
ter until he could hold out no longer, and rewarded me with a huge
mouthful of hot, sticky, and salty cum. I drank it all down greedily,
and then moved up on the sofa to sit next to him, and stroke his cock
while it softened.
We kissed, fondled, and cuddled a while longer, but soon he had to
leave to catch a bus back to New Jersey where he lived. I would have
liked to have asked him to spend the night, but there was no way that I
could have concealed my penis from him for that long the way that I
felt about him. It was best that he leave.
He pulled his pants back up, but I stayed in just my panties, garter-
belt, stockings, and heels. He looked at me in the way that a man
looks at a real woman, for that was what I was to him. I had pulled
off getting the job today, and I had pulled being seduced by a straight
man off tonight. I was sure that things would not always go this well,
but I was extatic with myself that night. It all went to just confirm-
ing that I was the woman that I knew I was, and that nothing should
stand in my way to the goal of being all the woman I could be. I vowed
that nothing would!
Alan kissed me as he left, and I gave him my address and telephone num-
ber. He wrote to me from Viet-Nam for about five months, and then the
letters just stopped. I wrote to his company commander asking if he
was all right. In return, I got a letter from the unit Chaplain tell-
ing me that Alan would write to me no more. He had stepped on a mine,
and was killed outright. I cried for him. I only hoped that he had
enjoyed his last night on leave.
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