Zack emerged from the TWA corporate limousine at the exclusive Scorpion Desert Resort and Convention Center. The fancy marquis over the entrance simply announced a private, invitation-only fashion show would close the facility to others for the weekend. Zack had arrived at the biggest private fashion event of the year: the Annual TWA Fetish Fashion Show. As a TWA Zodiac, Zack had pageant management responsibilities. He would be the Master of Ceremonies and the Emeritus Guest Tutor, charged with maximizing the erotic effects of dress, makeup and demeanor for the TWA graduate models that would strut the runway. The Fetish Fashion Show served as a TWA Pledge Contributor Special Request venue and fund raising event. The girls were attired in specific fetish costumes indulging the judges' anonymous pre-determined requests. For added fun, the judges tried to hide whether they were energized by a particular model's display and the runway performers tried to determine which judge was their pre-assigned fetish admirer. The game practiced the valuable talent of covering one's emotions while unmasking their rivals.
Sophie was waiting for Zack in the atrium lobby. She was Zack's assigned weekend hostess and assistant. She pecked his cheek, hugged his arm and escorted him straight away to the fetish models' dressing room. The ten TWA graduates were helping each other prep for their roles. They paused when Zack entered and stood attentively while Sophie promenaded Zack around the room, presenting each participant. They were in various stages of dress, mostly naked. They buzzed around the makeup stations, borrowing cosmetics and applying body and face makeup, spritzing perfumes and comparing jewelry. Various fetish costumes hung on racks at center room. There were the usual collection of school girl and French maid uniforms, sequined evening gowns and bondage classics.
After the round of introductions, Zack browsed the mirrored makeup stations, giving advice on the girls' choices of preening colors and tones. He considerately helped smooth lotions over supple tits and asses. He stepped in to daub his color choice here and there, particularly the women's all-important erogenous areas. An indecisive model had tried two different shades on her nipples and wanted Zack's advice on which was better for her skin tone. Zack preferred the darker hue and, applying the rouge himself, showed her how to look even better by cosmetically enlarging her areolas. Zack knew intimately the application of these special TWA-designed concoctions which had been formulated and tested under rigorous conditions. The emollients were melded with sensory flavors and spices guaranteed to enrich the gratification of the TWA graduates and their sex-mates.
Zack reveled in the uninhibited access, stroking the fine bristled brushes and pencils over the models' facial and vaginal orifices. He was clever at fostering greater core heat in his already excited minions. With their naked loveliness perfected, Zack supervised the dressing, fine-tuning straps and flaps to coyly peep the underlying excellence. The women embraced Zack's assistance, striving to improve their poise and garner flattery from the prestigious judges.
The order of onstage presentations acknowledged seniority, repeat participants going first when the pool of options was greatest. Annual repetitions made the more experienced models quicker at catching a delicate loosening of bowtie or overly confining crotch space. The veterans became better at guessing which judge was most aroused by their exposition. Following their best conjecture, Zack would reveal the true pre-determined pairing and that couple departed forthwith for their after-show rendezvous and the Pledge Contributors' requisite fantasy fulfillments. As the show processed, the pool of judges became smaller, easing the matchup challenge for the newer models.
Zack preceded the line of beauties as they clacked their high heels down the corridor to the side stage. The congregated Pledge Contributors were settled in cushioned lounges arrayed semi-circle around the elevated runway. Scantily clad waitresses served up cool drinks and hot winks. The festive mood belied the whimsical gravitas of the risqué competition.
Zack gave a last tune-up to Abby, the first model in line. She was dressed in a lady's black tuxedo: spike heels, dark hose, satin booty shorts, sheer white blouse and unbuttoned topcoat. Her straight blond bangs were trimmed below her eyebrows, dark eye shadow surmounting her deep brown eyes. Zack reached inside the open coat flaps, palming Abby's hefty braless tits through the silky shirt. He bounced the full masses in his hands and then pulled them forward, forcing her into a horizontal bend. He rocked the pendulous flesh back and forth and then ordered Abby to shimmy. The model complied, smiling as she enjoyed the feel of her hardened nipples grazing inside the fitted shirt. Zack was satisfied that Abby's full breasts bobbed and swayed appropriately beneath the veiling material. Zack's last minute boob handling clued Abby that her mysterious male craved her big tits in waggling motion. Abby resolved to use hard struts with swift turns during her exhibition and watch for the judge most enthralled by her tempting jiggles.
Zack lined up the tuxedoed lady and propelled her on stage with an unexpected ass push. Abby nearly stumbled and it shook her body. Her movement sent fluid ripples across her chest, giving the judges their first wobbly notion of Abby's shrouded but unrestrained breasts. The model recovered her stride but kept the tit twitters going. She strutted the length of the stage and back, giving a forward show of her covert tit wattles and a retiring show of her booty wiggle. Abby rambled the stage edge, giving each judge her transient attention as she enticed them each in turn with her body in motion. The first coy round was unsuccessful in eliciting a distinctive sign from any one judge.
Abby upped the ante and unbuttoned her blouse to her waist before starting her next round of individual displays. The model shimmied and swayed, letting her highlighted nipples peek-a-boo through the gap as they rolled beneath the open panels. One judge finally coughed and wiggled in his seat, adjusting his crotch. Gotcha! Abby stopped and pointed a manicured index finger towards the man.
"I think I am your fantasy request. Am I correct?"
The balding gentleman's entire head blushed from neck to ears to bald pate. He smiled shyly and nodded his acknowledgement of her acute perception. Zack came onstage carrying a sealed ivory envelope. He tore it open, read the inscription and announced that the model's deduction was indeed correct. Abby stayed facing her admiring male as Zack reached around her and unzipped her booty shorts. He dragged them down and off as Abby trotted her panty-hosed legs, her jostling tits pushing aside the loose hanging blouse panels, fully exposing her big pink capped mounds. The dusky panty hose accentuated rather than concealed Abby's finely tuned ass and her conspicuous cameltoe.
The model slinked off the stage to the enthralled older gentleman and carefully settled her warm butt sidesaddle into his lap. Abby leaned her exposed boob into his chest as her ruby lips breathed greetings in his ear.
"Pleased to meet you, sir. My name's Abby"
"Abby. What a lovely name for such a lovely girl. Please call me Willy."
