"That's good. Point your legs up and look at me. Smile a little. Nice."
Pop
"Ok. Rollover on your belly. Let your tits fall over your hands. Nice. Push them out a bit more. Very nice."
Pop
"Ok. Push your ass up a little. I want to see that thong of yours. Yes, that's very, very nice. Christ. So sexy. So good. Good girl."
Pop
Doing this photo shoot was his idea, but I have to admit, I am enjoying it. I battled a mix of thrills and nerves, buying the white thigh highs, lace French cut thong, and sexy push-up bra. I put them on slowly in the mirror.
The shoot started so innocently.
"Is my ass too big?"
Pop.
"No, Camillina, it is just perfect. Do you feel sexy?"
"A little."
"You look so hot, turn your back to me and look over your shoulder. Yes. Sexy.
Perfect."
The session started with a little glass of cold vodka. It was so strong it took my breath away. We had it, me standing in front of him in my lingerie with just a thin bathrobe covering me. He wore tight jeans and a tight white t-shirt showing a hard body. I could just make out a slight bulge between his legs. I imagined he was not wearing any underwear.
Pop
We started slowly. The bathrobe slowly came off. I was inhibited at first, but he was so encouraging.
Pop.
The photo equipment was very professional. A beautiful white backdrop that fell across a raised bed, a broad rectangular floodlight, a flash stand that would let out a little whine when it recharged, and then -
Pop.
"Don't be afraid." His smile was teasing and happy. He laughed at my shyness. His delight coaxed me to do more. "Take your hands and set them flat on your thighs. Yes, let your bathrobe fall away - just a bit! Perfect. Now lean forward. Yes. Your hair - yes, over you teasing - that is very sexy."
Pop.
With each pop, I got just a bit braver. I dared myself to spread my legs open, teasing Josip. My soft bathrobe barely covered the heat between my legs.
Pop.
"Wow! Oh yes!" He took another cold vodka shot, gave me one, and we continued.
I couldn't help but notice a small bulge grow into a larger one.
"Now. Let's get a bit more daring. Can you get on all fours?"
"Like this?"
"Wow, yes. Like that. That is sexy. Wild sexy. Can you open your legs a bit wider?"
Pop. Pop.
"Taking a lot of photos?"
"We will take many but delete the ones you do not like. OK? I can't say I will have good judgment!" he laughed. "I love them all!" He grabbed my face and kissed me hard. The shots and his smell made my head swim, and my hand fell across the hard, swelling between his legs.
I met Josip at a nightclub. My friends and I had heard about this place through a post online in a music forum. Vesna, Croatian, said that a DJ from out of town would be spinning there, and we must go and hear. The post talked about how beautiful the crowd would be and how cheap the drinks were - we were not disappointed.
My friends Ashley, Rickie, and Vesna came to my apartment to get ready. It had been too long since we had a night out for all of us, and we were ready to party. We all had on our best, sexiest clothes. Rickie did our nails in outrageous patterns and colors. She wanted to accent mine with diamonds - like hers - but I stopped at long and Dracula red. We called a cab, so we could all drink together and enjoy the evening.
The driver dropped us off at the wrong corner. He complained that it was a dangerous part of town and worried aloud why four beautiful girls wanted to be in such a desolate part of the city. We got our bearings and walked the rest of the few blocks to the address. The area was quiet. For the most part, it was industrial factories and warehouses. The streets before the club were abandoned between shifts; trucks, cranes, and other heavy lifting equipment slept behind high chain-link fences trimmed with razor wire.
For what seemed like every 30 seconds, we'd see a rat, some of them as large as cats, skitter across our paths. Rickie would let out a scream that would make the rat scramble to escape, and we'd all laugh. When we arrived at the club's dimly lit red double doors, we were exhausted from laughing and screaming.
An intimidating, manicured doorman waved aside our door fee. He chuckled with piercing, dangerous blue eyes and a quiet laugh through a broad beard.
Opening the door, the deep bass tones and dance rhythms washed over us. The vibrancy and life inside the club shattered the silence of the sleepy street. I felt a surge of energy shoot through me. Ashley squeezed my hand, and the four of us strode into the place - eager to make an entrance.
The club was massive, an old converted warehouse. The walls had been painted red, and white lights washed up the side. At the far end, high above the crowd, was the DJ. The left and right walls had long, blue-lit bars lined with bottles and glasses. Vapor from the dry ice keeping the bottles cold ran out onto the dance floor.
Oh, what a dance floor. Little bright lights flew in circles overhead, powered by drones. They dipped and spun to the music in dizzying arcs. A movie projector at the top of the ceiling projected scenes of the ocean, a field, a forest, animals killing each other, people fucking, milk splashing onto bodies of men and women. It was incredible.
The dancers were literally in the movie, being painted in different images as the rhythm and bass washed through the crowd moving and crushing them to higher and higher waves of ecstasy.
We found a curved couch on the second floor that looked down on the crowd. Ricki left almost immediately to go and dance, pulling Ashley behind her, protesting that she wanted another drink. They disappeared amid the writhing bodies.
Vesna and I held the down couch, protecting purses and phones. A gorgeous waitress came by and, after taking an order, whispered something in Vesna's ear.
"She said - don't get too much -," Vesna said, imitating the waitress's thick Slavic accent. "There are many men here tonight that will buy drinks for everyone."
"Oh, OK!"
"Yeah, let's see."
Sure enough, a half-hour later, she returned with an elegant white bottle in a cold, sweaty bucket of ice.
