1. Sunday
Kelly was on spread out on her bed, naked. One hand was idly playing with her nipple. The other hand held a business card. Kelly looked at the card again. It was printed on thick paper, the letters making slight indentations in the paper. It felt expensive. She read it again. "Glen Mason. Photographer for Connoisseurs." There was a phone number written on it. She had gotten it the night before, at the club.
She had been a bit drunk by the time Petra had come up to her. "I'm Petra. My friend thinks you hot," Petra had said, tilting her head to where Glen was sitting. Petra had towered over Kelly; nearly a foot taller than the 5'4 Asian girl. Petra had shockingly blond hair, another contrast with to the black-haired Kelly. Kelly looked over. Glen was a tall, skinny hipster guy, complete with a porn-star mustache. But it worked for him.
He held up his drink and smiled. But rather than leading Kelly over to him, Petra leaned down and whispered into her ear. "He's a photographer. He likes beautiful things. Like you."
"And you?" Kelly managed to say.
"Have you ever been kissed by a girl?" Petra asked. Her breath was hot against Kelly's ear. There was something else getting hot, and that was hidden between Kelly's legs. Kelly felt her pussy grow wet.
"No," Kelly said. Before she said anything else, Kelly reached down and ran her hand along the inside of her thigh. Almost involuntarily, Kelly spread her legs, giving the other woman ready access to her most intimate parts. It was almost a dream, the way the other woman's fingers had felt against her pussy, wetting just the tips before rubbing it over Kelly's engorged clitoris.
Kelly moaned; she was happy it wasn't loud enough to attract any attention. Men never payed enough attention to her clit. They were all too eager to get inside her, and never spent enough time on what mattered. "Give my friend a call. It is really easy money and an experience you won't forget." Just as Kelley was getting into the woman playing with her, Petra pulled her hand away.
She slid the card into Kelly's top, the thick paper rubbing against her breast. "Call him," she said, before disappearing into the crowd. Kelly looked up, trying to see where Petra had gone to. Her eyes met Glen's. He held his hand up to his ear, like a phone, and pointed to her with other. "Call," he mouthed, before standing up, and almost as quickly as Petra, disappeared into the crowd.
She flipped over the card. It was still blank. She had expected more: an e-mail address, a website, anything to indicate exactly what a connoisseur meant here. Nor had searching for him on-line reveal anything at all. She thought about the tall Nordic girl, Petra, and how Petra's fingers had felt against her clit. Kelly couldn't help but reach down to touch herself.
She was not surprised to find that her pussy was already wet. Two fingers slid between her lips, opening her up, as her thumb rubbed against her clit. And her phone buzzed. It was a mood-killer; the distinctive tone of a text from her grandfather. She sighed, and grabbed her phone from the bed table.
"I saw your grades! No more partying! I want you to study properly." The original Chinese was much more emphatic. The phone buzzed again with a fresh message from her grandfather. "No more checks either."
"Damn," Kelly said out loud. "Fuck you Grand Dad. Fuck You." She put down the phone; she knew better than to reply immediately. She picked up the card. She remembered what Petra had said about Glen. It was easy money, and it would be the ultimate fuck you to her family. If they cut her off, she would find a way. Posing nude was just that way.
She picked up her phone. She started to text him, but remembered how Petra had emphasized "call" the night before. She stopped typing the message, and instead typed in the number, and pressed call. It took a second to connect, and then the phone rang twice.
"Hello," a male voice said.
"Is this Glen?" she stammered.
