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Bobbi's Story 6 One, Two, Three, Kick!
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.
filled as best I could with my tiny breasts. The bra was an extra-
padded one because I did not want to use my falsies in case I had to
remove my blouse 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
heels, 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
answered, "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 intro-
duced 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
myself 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
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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 definite 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 order 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
ascended to the stage, and took my place in line.
We all formed a long line across the stage against the backdrop
curtain. 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 shu- ed 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
_Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________83___
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 noticed.
"All right!," called Jack out of the darkness of the audience as
the stage lights came on. "Could we have number one on the run-
way, please?" 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 reminded 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
decide." 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,
84____Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________
"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
someone, 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
others 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 introduce."
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 custom 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 company, 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 intro-
duced 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 handsome. 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.
_Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________85___
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, allocating show invitations to outside photographers, all
catalog or advertising 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 al
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 assignment 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 without 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 un-
derstand 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
86____Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________
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 nod-
ded and murmured agreement. "Okay, then the first lesson is that
the photographer 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 second 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 matter what you may have learned in any modeling
school, we have the experience, 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 expected 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 envelopes, 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
others took a moment to open the envelopes, and glance through the
contents. "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 surprised. "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 flattered, 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
_Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________87___
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 happened for real once in a while.
I decided to walk home. It was only about half past four, and
I thought 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 wanted 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
walked 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
88____Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________
your mind, Tom?"
Tom lit his pipe, and looked thoughtful for a moment. He leaned
forward 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
drink, 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 going 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
thoughtful 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 busi-
nesslike 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 fashion stuff. I have photographers doing all sorts of things
in both stills and movies. I've got a business proposition for you. I
_Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________89___
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
qualified 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
scouting drag queens for a while looking for the right one. I have a
reputation 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 actress 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
going," he said. "We'll talk more about all of this when you come into
90____Bobbi's_Story____________________________________________________________
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 shopping 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
shadows of twilight, so it would be dark in about an hour or so. I
stepped 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 be-
tween 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 dinner, but I hate eating alone. Would I be be-
ing 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 obviously 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
SIZE LIMIT (48K) EXCEEDED!!!
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