"That's it," John thought, "I can't afford to go to school here anymore." He looked at the notice he got in the mail, stating that tuition would be going up almost 15 percent next year. He was barely scraping by as it is, and he was already working two jobs, though they were a crappy bookstore job and a even crappier Pizza joint job. There wasn't much else available that would let him devote any time to his classes, though.
He was just going to have to transfer to one of the state schools back home, and move back in with his parents.
He shuddered as this thought hit him. He really liked the on-campus life, being able to set his own hours, go where he wanted, watch all the pretty girls all over the place, maybe even taking one back to his room if he managed to get that far with her. He'd never have that freedom at home; he never did before. He sighed as he got more and more depressed about it. He packed up his books, and headed off to class, feeling sorry for himself.
--
Halfway to class, a bright orange flyer taped to a pole caught his eye. Usually he just blew past them, but this one was different:
COLLEGE GUYS!!!!
Make BIG $$$$$$
Set Your own Hours!!!
Call Abby for an Appt.
There were those tear-off number tags at the bottom. A couple had been taken already. "Probably a scam, or one of those telemarketing scams", he thought, but he grabbed a number anyway, stuffed it in his pocket, and continued to his classes.
--
After classes, he went on to hockey practice, and then to the library to study for a couple of hours. By then it was time to get to work at the Pizza place. A few hours of shlepping pitchers and slices to the rich coeds, and he was ready to call it a night. He dragged himself back to his dorm, ready to just collapse and go to sleep. He reached in his pocket to get his keys, and pulled out the orange tab with the number. "Oh, yeah," he thought sarcastically, "My BIG MONEY opportunity." He chuckled to himslef as he opened the door and went in.
Something made him look at the number again. "What the heck," he said, "I have nothing to lose, and I need the cash." He grabbed the phone ad dialed the number, expecting an answering machine at this late hour. But a woman picked up.
"C.S. Productions," she answered.
"Umm, Hi, my name is John, and I'm calling about the Ad posted on campus. Is Abby there?" John queried nervously.
"Uh-huh, this is Abby," the voice answered, "Let me ask a few questions, okay?"
"Sure, ask away." John readied himself for the surely inane questions to come.
"How old are you, hon?" Abby asked.
"I just turned 18 last month," he answered. "Is that too young?"
"No, 18 is perfect," she said. "What's your height, weight, general build?"
"I'm 6 feet tall, around 180, pretty normal build. I guess maybe I'd call it athletic. I play hockey, so I sorta stay in shape..."
"Oh, an athlete, huh?" she cut him off, "Excellent." He heard her writing some things down, turning some pages.
"How about body hair?"
"No, no body hair," John answered. He had been shaving hid body since being on the high school swim team. But why would she ask that?
"Pubic hair too?" Abby queried.
"Um, what?" John replied. "No, no, no hair at all. I shave for swimming." Actually, he didn't swim competitively any more. He just kept clean shaven because he liked the way it felt, and how it made his cock look bigger. But what was she interested in that for?
"Mmm, nice. A smooth athlete," she sort of purred. "We're just off of campus, on Ackerman. Can you come in tomorrow morning for an interview, maybe some test shots?"
"Sure - wait, test shots?" John asked, "What, like pictures?"
"Yes, pictures", Abby replied, "This is a male modeling job. You've never modeled, have you?"
"No, never," John said.
"That's OK," Abby assured him, "We'll talk about specifics when you get here." She gave him directions, and they hung up.
"Modeling," he thought, "Probably that Abercrombie & Fitch stuff that Brian on the hockey team was doing. I can handle that, if it pays OK."