Claires Career

I always knew I was an exhibitionist – in a mild sort of a way, and wanted to be a fashion model. I just loved the idea off walking down the catwalk in those impossibly high heels, wearing all those lovely clothes, the silks, the satins, the transparent tops..........

So I was shattered when, after a visit to one modelling agency after another, it was clear I wasn't going to make it. It wasn't that I didn't have good body. I did, I knew I did. But they all wanted me to pay a sum of money up front for 'tuition fees' – a sum of money I didn't have – and they wanted portfolios of photos, and, what's more, I got the distinct impression it was a question of who you knew.

So I thought I'd try elsewhere, and Paris seemed like a good idea. I simply caught the Eurostar, and sallied forth, armed with the address of an old boyfriend and his new girlfriend, who were living in the posh 16th arrondissement, and who I understood were connected to the fashion business.

When I got there, I discovered that not all addresses were necessarily up-market, even in well-heeled districts, and they lived in a tiny attic, up a beetling staircase. Emma and Mark made me welcome enough, in a 'hope you're not staying too long' kind of way, and Emma, made me up a bed on the sofa for the night, then promised to take me and introduce me to someone she knew next morning.

Stiff as a board from the sofa, I stretched and had a coffee with Emma, Mark having gone off to work in a nearby studio where he was engaged in some kind off project.

We went by Metro to Montmartre, and she led me into some seedy back-streets, where lots of dark faces seemed to be leering at us from the shadows, even at ten o'clock in the morning. Emma stopped at a chipped red door.

'You know this isn't Yves Saint Laurent, don't you, darling?' she said.

Before I had chance to reply, the door opened, and a bald, coffee-coloured man held it open for us to go in, then shut and locked it behind us. We went up a dimly-lit staircase to a carpeted landing, then waited until the man squeezed past us, turned around and showed us a grin which contained several gold teeth, then opened a door, to usher us into a huge office.

In complete contrast to what we had seen, it was palatial, and a sophisticated-looking man in his late forties sat behind a large mahogany desk, formally dressed, but with his jacket draped over his shoulders, his arms free of it, and displaying expensive-looking gold cuff-links. His black hair had hints of grey at the temples.

'Ah, Emma,' he said, in accented but correct English, 'so this is the friend about whom you spoke to me. You may leave us alone now. I will see that your friend is returned to your home.'

I was about to protest, but there was something in the man's manner which precluded such a strategy, and Emma simply touched my elbow, and meekly left.'

I turned to face him, and he smiled slightly, 'I am Roger. You need know no more,' he said, 'and I understand you have been unable to find work in England. Is that not so?'

'I couldn't find modelling work.'

'Just so, just so.' He regarded me in a way I found very unnerving for what must have been more than a minute, in total silence, and then pressed a buzzer on his desk. A door I hadn't seen, because it was covered in wallpaper, like the rest of the wall, opened, and a slim young Asian girl came into the office, dressed in a black minidress and high-heeled mules.

'Take this young lady.....' Then he interrupted himself, turning to me, 'What is your name, dear?'

'Claire,' I said.

He turned back to the Asian girl, 'Take Claire, and dress her for me. I want to see how she would look in four or five outfits for one of our shows. Think in terms of the Club Grand Duc.'

The girl nodded and extending a hand to me, led me from the room.

'I am Ti-Liu,' she told me, as we entered a carpeted room, surrounded by mirrors, with row after row of racks, and banks of shelves and cupboards. It was a large, well-equipped dressing-room.

Ti-Liu bade me undress, and I took off my jacket, jeans, and tee-shirt, then kicked off my shoes, so that I stood in bra and panties.

'Everything,' she said.

'Everything?' I repeated.

'Oh yes,' she confirmed, and I unhooked the bra, then wriggled out of my panties, feeling very self-conscious as I stood in front of the Chinese girl completely naked, aa hand over my pubes.

'Don't be shy,' she giggled, ' you're going to have to get used to being seen.'

I didn't know what to make of this last remark, but Ti-Liu wanted to look me over, and seemed more than a little interested in my pubic hair. I shaved enough so that it didn't show around my skimpy bikinis, but left a little triangle.

'Hmmm,' she said, 'I think that will have to go, but not just now. We'll see what the boss says, shall we?'

Panic again started to set in, as it had when Emma had left me. The boss was going to look at my pubic hair? What was I letting myself in for?

But Ti-Liu was busy selecting things from the racks. Satisfied, she came back to where I stood, a garment draped over her arm. When she slipped it over my head, I gasped. It was a halter-necked gown, ivory in colour, of a shiny translucent material, the skirt only slightly more opaque than the top, by virtue of the fact that it was pleated. My breasts could be seen quite clearly, nipples jutting through the fine material, and my black pubic hair formed a distinct shadow through the skirt. She clipped a big silver belt around my slim waist, and had me step into needle-heeled stilettos. Giving my long black hair a deft brush, Ti-Liu pronounced me ready, and led me back into the office.

Roger hadn't moved, and sat, steepling his fingers as I tottered in on my heels.

'Can't you walk better than that?' he demanded, and I took up the challenge, doing a proud twirl in front of him.

He said something in French to Ti-Liu, then she ushered me out.

As soon as we were in the dressing room again, she said, 'He wants to see you in something more revealing.'

'More

revealing? Christ, what could be more revealing than that?' I looked at her in disbelief, as I slipped out of the flimsy gown.

She rummaged around along the racks, and soon returned to me with another garment.

'Here, put this on,' she said, handing me a black nylon creation. I dropped it over my head, and found that it was a very tight fit, even before I had had the long zippers done up. It covered me from the high neck to the floor, and had long sleeves, which I had to wriggle my arms into. The skirt was so tight around my legs that I could only take short mincing steps, but the gown was completely sheer, and every detail of my body could be seen through it.

'I can't wear this,' I declared, 'I'm naked.'

'Come on,' urged Ti-Liu, 'put some shoes on, and we'll see what the boss says.'

She propelled me through into the office, where I stood, blushing, in front of the massive desk.

'Take your hands away from your pussy,' said Roger, 'think I don't know what you've got there?'

Sheepishly, I did as he told me.

'That hair's got to go if you're going to work for me,' he said.

'But.....but,' I started.

'But you want to know what it's all about,' he smiled momentarily, and then told me to sit down in a leather chair. I did so, with difficulty, due to the tightness of the skirt.

He waved Ti-Liu away, then started to tell me: 'I do fashion shows with a difference. I cater for fetish fashion, and for people who appreciate that kind of thing. I cater for many different tastes, and I am very flexible, so that my models have to be flexible too. They also need to be very broad-minded. For this, and their loyalty and discretion, I reward them extremely well. I have seven models currently working for me. I need one more. You could be she. Are you interested? I will have your answer tomorrow at this time. Now I will call a taxi to take you back to Emma's apartment.'

Half an hour later I was sat on Emma's sofa, telling her all about it, though I suspected she already knew more than half of the story, as it was Emma who had introduced me to Roger, after all. But when I asked her how she knew him, she said she did a bit of part-time work for him, and wouldn't elaborate.

When I asked her what she thought, she said, 'What have you got to lose, you're no virgin after all?'

'So you think it'll go beyond just modelling, then?'

'Get real, girl,' she said, 'he's got some well-heeled clients to look after. He doesn't pay good money for just walking up and down.'

Next morning, my mind was made up. I would tell him to stuff his job, but Emma thought I ought to go and see him, in any case. I took the Metro, and walked through the grotty streets, rang the bell, and Gold-teeth again let me in, and led me upstairs. When I entered the office, I got a surprise. Sat on the corner of the desk was a guy in his early twenties who was quite simply the most drop-dead gorgeous man I had ever seen. Black hair curled down to the collar of his open-necked shirt, liquid dark eyes shone from an open face with a strong, square chin.

'My father asked me to meet you,' he said, in faultless English, 'and apologised for not being here.'

He embraced me in the French fashion, and went on, 'I understand you would like to work for us. That means we shall be seeing a lot of each other, as my father lets me organise the shows. I think we shall get along very well.'

Whether it was his Monsieur Rochas cologne, or the extended embrace, or simply his presence, whatever – my resolve melted, there and then.

'Er....yes, I think so,' I heard myself saying.

'Good,' he said, 'I am Robert, and I think you are Claire, right?'

I nodded, and he took my hand, and led me out to the familiar dressing room, talking all the time. It seemed that there was to be a show that afternoon, and they wanted me to take part. It was to be at the Club Grand Duc, which meant nothing to me.

Robert called Ti-Liu, who appeared as if from nowhere, and spoke to her in rapid French, then left me with her, and went off back into the office, saying he would see me later with papers for me to sign.

'Come,' said Ti-Liu, and led me into a curtained alcove, where there was a large, triangular bath. She told me to undress, and I quickly did so, still in a bit of a daze, and wondering why I had agreed to all this.

As I stripped, she was running the bath, and I lowered myself into the warm water, although I had recently showered at Emma's flat. Ti-Liu went out, and returned almost immediately with a plastic razor and a canister of foam. She bade me sit up on the edge of the bath, then kicked off her shoes, and, giggling, came and sat beside me.

'Open your legs wide,' she said, and spread foam all around my pussy, smoothing it right into the crack of my arse. I was starting to get excited, in spite of myself, at her touch, and trembled a little, as she took the first strokes with the razor. She took infinite care to remove every vestige of hair from my cunt-lips, and from around the tiny puckered hole of my anus, and when she hosed my pussy down with the shower-head, I saw that I was as clean-shaven as a ten-year-old girl. I thought it looked quite charming, admiring myself in the mirror as I dried myself off. Ti-Liu then had me sit in a hairdresser's chair, and carefully painted my finger- and toe-nails, applied a little rouge to my nipples, and, to my alarm, to my labia.

When I asked her what that was for she said, 'just in case.'

'In case of what?' I asked, but she merely smiled.

Next she brushed my long black hair to a silken sheen, and pronounced me ready. I had heard sounds issuing from the dressing room whilst she was working, and when I slipped on a robe she passed me, and went out amongst the racks, three more girls were sat around awaiting Ti-Liu's attention. One walked straight in, a tall black girl with very long legs, wearing a tiny miniskirt, leaving the other two, who greeted me in French, and introduced themselves as Cecile and Anne. Both were blondes with long hair, and wore short skirts. I made conversation as best I could, but Robert came to my rescue, and, so far as I could understand, told the other two that I was a new recruit. They laughed as if sharing some joke, and Robert led me off to the far end of the racks, where hung rows of corsets. He slipped the robe from my shoulders before I could protest, and I stood completely naked before him.

'Mmm,' he said, 'you have a nice body, Claire.'

I had a tingling sensation as he ran a warm hand over my breasts, resting a forefinger for just a moment on a sensitive nipple, then he turned to the rack, seeming to know exactly what was my size, and offered a white satin corset up to my body, inviting me to slip my arms through the straps. It was a perfect fit, moulding my narrow waist exactly, the bra just forming no more than a platform for my breasts, which were completely exposed. At the hem it finished just above my shaven pussy, and was cut high at the back, so that my buttocks were entirely bare. It had long garter straps. When I had fastened all the hooks and eyes at the front, I thought it was a snug fit, but Robert came around behind me, and tugged hard at the laces, which tightened the garment much more fiercely, so that my waist was now tightly constricted, and my breasts were forced higher, their nipples pointing above horizontal. In spite of the discomfort the corset gave me, I felt sexy, and was looking at myself in a long mirror when Robert gave me a packet containing a pair of long white, lace-top stockings. I put these on, coupling them to the garter belt. Meantime, he had found me a pair of platform-soled, needle-heeled silver shoes. The heels were at least five inches high, and I was going to have to practice walking in them. Whilst I was doing so, Ti-Liu had returned, and handed a garment to Robert, who passed it on to me. 'Slip this on now,' he said, 'and you are ready, apart from a little jewellery.'

It was a white nylon nightdress, totally transparent, which came down to mid-thigh. When I looked in the mirror, I might just as well have been naked.

'I can't face people like this,' I said to Robert.

'You look terrific,' he said, and glancing around to see that none of the other girls were watching, he reached around behind me, and ran his hand down the crack of my bare arse, just all too briefly letting a playful finger tease the very portals of my eager cunt. I thought I should die with desire for him, and knew I could show myself to anyone, anywhere, if only there was a chance of being fucked by Robert. Secretly, within myself, I also knew I should really love showing myself, anyway.

I sat and waited whilst the other girls were dressed in similar outfits to my own, the black girl, whose name was Nadine, looking especially good in white, whilst the blondes wore red outfits. Ti-Liu gave us all long pendant ear-rings and fake gold bracelets and anklets, and we were ready to go, after Robert had sent out for pizzas and a drink for us all.

I followed the other girls to the last rack in the dressing room, when it was time to go, and we all put on long fur coats, which was apparently how they always covered themselves on the way to appointments. Robert drove us the ten kilometres in his Mercedes, to the plush club, in the outskirts of the city, where we were met by a doorman, and ushered in through a side door.

Whilst we sat down in a nice dressing room, and waited for the call, with Robert off talking to the management of the club, I tried to get some information from the other girls about what really went on, but they weren't able – or willing – to impart very much. 'Just do what we do,' said Nadine, who spoke some English.

Robert came in, and said in French, 'Five minutes, girls.' We put the finishing touches to our make-up, then Robert opened the door, and pushed us out on to what I imagined was the cat-walk.

The blondes went first, then Nadine, and I brought up the rear. There was no cat-walk! We had to walk between tables, where people, by no means all men, sat drinking, smoking, and, as we entered, applauding. There was a tiny dance floor in the centre of the room, and we all made our way there, several hands stroking my flanks as I passed, then walked up and down, following the lead of Cecile, who seemed the most experienced at showing off her lingerie under the spotlights which played on us. The music was slow and sensual, and I soon got into the mood, slinking around, cupping my tits in my hands, then running them down between my legs, and letting them linger around my buttocks when I turned my arse to the audience and let my nightdress ride up. Anne was on her hands and knees, creeping towards a florid man, who held out a hand to her, so that she could grab it and suck his thumb.

Nadine went amongst the audience, carefully selecting a couple who were sat on a small sofa. She sat on the man's lap, and kissed the woman full on the lips, bringing a roar from everyone watching. Cecile now borrowed a chair and sat on it in the middle of the dance floor, opening her slim legs wide, to show her naked pussy to all and sundry. With the fingers of both hands, she parted the lips, exposing her pink cunt, and gaping dark fuck-hole. A gasp came from nearby watchers, some of whom were now masturbating openly. I knew I had to do something to match them, and, seeing a fit-looking middle-aged man sat near the floor, I pulled him from his seat, and got him to dance with me to the strains of the slow music. His massive erection ground into me as I squirmed and wriggled around the floor with him, and his hot breath came in short gusts, as his hands found my arse. Then he suddenly thrust me away, and raced back to his seat, his face bright red. I knew he had shot his load in his trousers! Those who noticed roared with laughter, but I tried to cover for the poor man, by carrying on dancing.

The show went on in this mode for upwards of an hour, then the lights came on, and it was all over. All of us had teased, none of us had yielded very much. We left to tumultuous applause, put our fur coats back on, and went back to the office. Our work for the day was done.

When I reported for duty next morning, Robert was back in his place.

'I'm told you did well yesterday, my dear,' he said, 'here are the papers my son should have had you sign yesterday.'

He passed three sheets of typed A4 over the desk, and showed me where to sign. It was pointless trying to understand the convoluted French, so I scribbled my signature and passed them back.

He smiled, 'Trusting, aren't you?'

'Do I have an option?'

He changed the subject, 'My son is very impressed with you, Claire.'

I raised my eyebrows – he hadn't shown any signs of being particularly taken with me at all.

'We have a show lined up for you this afternoon, just you and Nadine, then my son says he would like you to have dinner with him.'

I was staggered by the proposition – a date with the boss's son! The most beautiful man I had clapped eyes on in years, I could hardly believe it.

There was a lot of coming and going in the dressing room, as both Cecile and Anne, together with two more girls I hadn't seen before, brunettes by the names of Giselle and Jacqueline, got ready to be taken to what they described as a 'big private party' near Versailles. They all wore nothing more than skimpy garter belts, stockings and half-bras under their fur coats when they left the building, to be driven to their destination by Robert, who arrived looking stressed and in a hurry, appearing hardly to notice me.

Nadine and I had a little more time to don our outfit for the show we were to give – in my case a black mesh catsuit, with a lewdly suggestive opening at the crotch, whilst Nadine was to wear an identical one in white, to contrast with her black skin. We each cinched microscopic flared nylon miniskirts around our waists, mine barely covering my pussy, and were pronounced ready. My nipples stuck out through the mesh of the catsuit, and seemed to be harder than usual, whether due to the thrill of exposure, or to the chill, I couldn't say.