Stories of a young woman's expanding sex life continue with connections to her other seven-part series, Petra's Pictures: Art to Porn. A client couple has discovered that Ms. Stanwick is the model in the erotic prints she sells in her art gallery. They are keeping the secret, in exchange for her weekly 'visits' to their mansion. How much longer will she satisfy their wicked desires?
This piece includes music from Al Stewart (Versailles) and Led Zeppelin (Whole Lotta Love)
****
It was 9:00 AM Monday, and Professor William Edwards was about to begin a new topic. His Fine Arts 345 class was packed front to back, in anticipation of "Design Before the French Revolution." He saw hundreds of eager faces as he scanned over the waiting crowd.
Why were so many young men interested in this obscure course? How was this subject always filled as soon as registration opened? And, why did Professor Edwards consistently receive the highest ratings from his students? There was one simple reason- his slides.
This morning, the Professor spotted two nervous young women in the first row. Novice student models Christina Appleby and Gabriella Smithers knew that he'd be showing their masked photographs today to illustrate his lecture. He shot their provocative images at his apartment a week and a half earlier, and they'd waited anxiously ever since.
Edwards cleared his throat.
"Ahem! I know you'll be interested in our study this week. I have new models to whet your appetite for learning. You'll gain an appreciation of the beautiful design prevalent in 17th and 18th Century France. As always, architecture and fashion will be our guide to the times. Today there's some background theme music."
The Professor bent forward to cue up the sombre sounds of Scottish folkie Al Stewart's "Versailles" to set the mood before he began his lecture.
".... Why do you wait/ To see the day begin?/Your time is wasting in the wind/ Wondering why/ Wondering why, it echoes/Through the lonely Palace of Versailles...."
"What were ladies wearing at the lonely palace of Versailles?" the Professor asked, continuing with, "Imagine a grand ball, the wealthy dripping with precious jewels. Beautiful women in daring clothing, their white bosoms exposed..."
"Bring it on!" boomed one of the jocks in the upper rows.
"Patience. Patience," Edwards joked. "Really, your eagerness for learning is most impressive!"
The two student models were wet with excitement. This was their screen debut. Professor Edwards had assured them that no-one would recognize their masked faces. They hoped he would be true to his word. Then he brought up the first image, one that would set the back row hounds baying.
"This is how aristocratic women dressed for the ball. As you can see here..."
The students gasped, then some cheered as he continued. They gaped at two well-proportioned young women with their hair coiffed up high and their necklines way down low. Their breasts were on display, right to the nipples in fact. Fine female flesh was fully visible from the tip of one shoulder to the other.
The background music played on, muted so that Edwards' commentary could be heard over the excited hubbub of the crowd.
".... The kings have all departed/Their servants are nowhere/ We burned out their mansions/ In the name of Robespierre...."
"This wasn't considered rude or obscene in King Louis' court. Indeed, some went farther, setting the neckline below their breasts. This pair of beauties would very likely have stripped off their gowns completely before the night was through. You see, affairs were frequent in this sexually charged atmosphere."
The Professor had everyone's full attention, nobody more than Christina and Gabriella, both wondering how much more of their naked bodies he was going to reveal. They knew that their gowns were off by the end of the shoot.
"Let's zoom in to examine the fabric and design," Edwards suggested as he projected the next slide, filling the screen with a great deal of pale cleavage tipped in rosy pink. "The finest silks, the whitest skin, and the most expensive perfumes were essential."
The jocks were drooling, the photos their reward for dragging themselves out of bed so early. It wasn't a love of fine design that brought them. It was their raging hormones!
"Shall we look underneath now? What held this in place?"
"Let's see it all!" someone bellowed from the back, and soon they peered into sheer half-cup corsets with tempting pointy nipples partly exposed. These models were stacked!
"Corsets worked wonders to mount such a display, so tight that they left women breathless... not to mention the men around them!" Edwards joked, before continuing through the cheers. "Thin, flat pieces of whalebone in the garment were strong enough to keep everything pushed up and out."
"Keep going! Don't stop now!" sounded impatiently from the upper tier.
"Certainly gentlemen. But I hope you're keeping good notes for the test. The corset used whalebone," he teased and spelled, "W...H...A...L...E...B...O...N...E."
There was time for one more image to whet healthy appetites. The models could hardly breathe. Would he show their naked breasts now? It had been so much fun posing, but they ended the photo session almost naked. Would Professor Edwards embarrass them today?
"Here's the last one for this class, but I have more for two lectures this week. What you'll see is a triumph of French engineering and design. Cue the music."
".... And Bonaparte is coming/ With his armies from the south/ Marat your days are numbered/ And we live from hand to mouth...."
The lights went down to reveal the two models in partial side-profile from head to toe without their gowns. Their corsets were bursting with full tits, while their bubble butts were framed by the tiniest silky strings. They tottered in heeled half-boots, their shapely legs clad in white stockings held up by lacy garter belts.
The near-naked models mugged for the camera, their pouting ruby lips so inviting, so kissable, so.... It brought the house down!
"I've shown you four images today, four good reasons to come to class this week."
With that comment, Edwards went on to the rest of his lecture. The novice models breathed a sigh of relief.
After class, the Professor stood by his desk while the students filed out. He basked in their enthusiastic thanks. They liked the music, but more than anything, they loved the slides. The last pair to come by the desk were the models themselves.
"I hope you enjoyed today's lecture," he said to them.
"Oh yes! It was so exciting, waiting to see what came next."
"Glad you were pleased. Next week will be about the Regency period in England, when men became real dandies, dressing like peacocks."
"There'll be men in the slides next week?" Christina was startled.
"At least one, possibly two. Does that interest you? I hope so." The Professor's eyes twinkled as he waited for a reply.
"Absolutely!" bold Gabriella gushed. "We'll do it, right Christina?"
"Good. Friday evening at my apartment again. Seven o'clock. Wear your hair up and come ready to have more fun."
****
At about the same time, Petra Stanwick came down the stairway from her apartment to open the shop below. There wouldn't likely be customers this early Monday morning, but there was work to do. Many prints had been sold at the gala opening party a week ago, so the place looked empty. She'd need more inventory. And there were other things to think over too.
Petra had opened her little gallery some months ago. But it struggled at first, with nothing except its very attractive proprietress to set it apart from other such places. Her former teacher, Professor Edwards had changed that by supplying her erotic photographs, which he had shot for his lectures. These far exceeded anything he would dare to show in class.
She had recently hosted a gala grand opening party for select clients, part of the professor's plan to promote her business. Unexpectedly, two of her customers- Gerard and Mona Rodman- recognized that Petra was in fact, the naked model in the delicious pictures! The night of the party they blackmailed her, only agreeing to keep the secret in exchange for sex.
Petra's mind went back to Saturday night when she'd been picked up by their chauffer, Darren. The model had rampant sex with them to hide her identity- so prolonged and stimulating, so exhausting, that she slept with them overnight. All day Sunday was spent recuperating.
"I wonder if it's true that Gerard told Darren to have a go with me, like he said on the way home?" she thought. "He's tall and very handsome. Maybe... but I don't even know him."
Then she laughed at herself.
"When has that stopped me? If I want to fuck him, I will," she told herself. "Hmm... I wonder how big he is? He looked to be well-built and strong under that uniform."
Then Petra reminded herself to stop daydreaming and get down to business. She needed to think more about inventory and less about sex. By late morning, no-one had come in from the street. Petra made plans to restock her gallery and was about to get some lunch upstairs.
About noon, a limousine filled the view from inside the shop. Soon, a tall, good-looking fellow, dressed in a deep green suit and cap, came to Petra's door. It was Darren, with a package under his arm.
"Mornin', Miss. How're y' today?"
"Very well. Rested. What brings you here this morning, Darren?"
"Ah, remember me name, do y'? Thas good."
"Why?"
"Because y' know what I said t'ya when I drove y' home last mornin'."
"Yes. You said the Boss offered me to you for some fun."
"And I ask what y' thought 'bout it. But y' just said, 'Not today'."
"My answer is still the same this morning, Darren," Petra toyed with him.
Darren looked down at the floor, disappointed. "Damn! I hope for today, Miss."
Petra changed the topic. "What's in the package you're carrying? Something for me?"
"Yeah. From Mona. Says y' must wear on Saturday."
"Please thank her for me. I suppose you'll be picking me up then?"
"Prob'ly, but she give y' the time later, Miss."
Petra liked Darren's stumbling manner and the way he respectfully deferred to her. She felt a sense of power over him, something missing from her other relationships with men. Here was a very handsome one who wanted her badly, but only if she consented. Perhaps she would? Petra softened her voice and gave him a coquettish smile.
"Darren, you can call me Venus, you know. And I'm changing my answer from 'Not today' to 'Maybe'."
"Thas good, Miss... I mean, Venus. Does 'Maybe' mean 'Now'? I'd like that, y' know."
