The Birthday Suit Club - Claire's Story

If you've read any of the other "The Birthday Suit Club" series you know how this all started. If not, then here is a brief recap. I was severely burned, including my face, as a child which lead to me becoming very reclusive as a teenager.

My sister, Gail, decided that I needed to have more social contacts. She caught me trying to overhear her telling a friend of hers about a recent episode wherein she flashed her boobies and decided that this was an opportunity she could use. She made a bargain with me to have some of her girlfriends from college come over and tell me their exposure stories in exchange for me letting them into my home.

This may not sound like much to you, but if you can try to imagine the looks of disgust or pity or revolt I've endured since the fire, you may be able to appreciate what it takes for a teenage boy to risk that kind of rejection from girls.

On my part I agreed with two conditions; one that the lights be kept low to minimize the risk of the girls' reactions, and two that I be allowed to write these stories down.

Gail agreed provided I ensured that the girls' identities be concealed. I accepted her condition. I usually record these stories and I try to write them in the girl's own words.

This is Claire's story as close as possible to the way she told me. She didn't want me to record her so I didn't thus I may have a few detail wrong.

For my twentieth birthday I had decided what I wanted from my father. You see my father owns a personal defense products business and every couple of months he published a catalog of the items he sells.

My father believes in the business saying "sex sells". So each cover of his catalog featured a beautiful woman in various states of undress or minimal attire. I had decided that for my birthday present I wanted to be photographed and to appear on one of my father's catalog covers. I knew my father would be hesitant to agree so I began laying the groundwork ahead of time.

About six months before my birthday a particularly revealing photo was on my dad's catalog cover. I asked him if he thought that the picture might be considered by some to be pornographic. He replied that what is porn or art is in the eye and mind of the beholder. So I asked him how he felt about this particular cover. He said that he didn't decided on the picture that was used. That it was up to the photographer and the catalog publishing company. He told me that he specifically had set it up that way so that he could not be accused of doing it for his personal enjoyment.

I asked him how he would felt if the girl on the cover was his own daughter. He responded that he trusted the photographer's discretion to only provide the publisher with classy photos and that he how he considered this cover.

This was step one. By this conversation he couldn't tell me no later on the basis that he didn't want his daughter displayed like this.

Step two began a few months later. He began asking questions in a roundabout manner to try to find out what I wanted for my birthday. I would pretend to not understand or change the subject to avoid answering.

You see, my dad considered the twentieth birthday to be a momentous occasion. A person is no longer a teenager, but they're not considered an adult. It's the in between age. So he wanted to be sure that we kids got exactly what we wanted. By a couple of days before my birthday he was getting really worried.

Finally I told him that I wanted to be on the cover of his catalog. You could see his relief. I guess he thought I was going to ask for a yacht or something else wildly extravagant. Without considering what he was saying, he agreed. While he was still in this state of relief I told him the rest. That I wanted the photograph to be a collaboration between me and the photographer and he was not allowed to attend the photo session or to see what photo we choose until it appeared on the catalog cover. Also he wasn't allowed to tell the photographer that I was his daughter thereby changing the kind of picture that might be taken.

Now he was back to being worried. I reassured him that I wouldn't do anything to get him arrested or shot by my mom. My mom and dad had divorced years ago and they had gotten joint custody of me and my two older brothers. Both of the guys were living on their own so the custody thing with them was over.

Since I was going to be twenty-one in a year I would finally have control of who and where I was going to be staying, so if either started to play mind games with the other I'd just pick the other and neither wanted to risk it.

Since he had already agreed to my birthday gift, he somewhat doubtfully promised to abide by my conditions. The next day he set up my appointment with the photographer for the Saturday after my birthday. Which was on Tuesday if you want to know.

The day after he set up the appointment I called the photographer to see what I should bring or if there was anything special I should do. He had me described myself and asked me what ideas I had for my photograph. I told him that I would leave that to him. That I just wanted it to be erotic as possible without getting my dad in trouble. He suggested that I not wear any tight clothing as that would leave marks in my skin that would take time to recover.

So on Saturday morning I arrived at his studio wearing sandals and an oversized men's shirt with a belt loosely looped about my hips. That's all. I felt quite daring and scared.

The photographer's assistant answered my knock. She wasn't what I was anticipated. She looked like your favorite grandmother. She had gray hair, was a little overweight and looked to be about 70 years old. She saw my expression and laughingly told me that nobody every expected her when they arrived. She told me her name was Marcie.

Explaining that the business only handled private sessions on the weekend, she locked the door behind us and escorted me back to the studio. I was puzzled about how small it was. From the outside the building looked huge, but the studio was fairly small. It was set up to resemble a bedroom minus one wall. I assumed the area of the missing wall was where the camera was set up.

When I commented on the size of the studio, Marcie told me that most of the space in the building was used for prop storage. By having an extensive collection of props, the studio could be set up for almost any theme that could be imagined. A few seconds after Marcie and I arrived in the actual photography area, John joined us. John was the photographer.

John was another is a string of surprises. He was a counterpart to Marcie. Marcie had been anticipating my reaction and burst out laughing. She told John that I had been surprised when I saw her and so she knew that I wouldn't be expecting John. We all joined in the laughter. When we calmed down John confessed that Marcie was his wife. I told them that I would never had thought that the photographer that was responsible for the daring pictures on the catalog covers would look like they could be grandparents. They replied that they were, in fact, grandparents.

Marcie went on to say that John had taken up photography when they retired and they both discovered that they had a flair for it and in particular for artistic photography. John stated that he enjoyed the excitement of trying to achieve a picture that would cause its viewers to adjust their own perceptions. That way each person saw the picture in a different way.

Marcie added that meant that each person could see the exact same thing but interpret it differently. While we talked about other various things Marcie had me fill out a modeling release.

This is required so that should the model change her mind after the picture is published she can't sue the photographer. It involved proving that I was over eighteen and certifying that I was posing of my own free will. When all the paperwork was done John asked me what kind of picture I had in mind. I told him that I wanted it to be the most erotic picture that had ever appeared on the cover of my dad's catalog. Of course I didn't actually tell him that it was my dad's catalog.

At my statement, John and Marcie exchanged a smile. I asked them what was going on. Marcie replied that she and John had been toying with the idea for a photograph that they believed would be extremely erotic. Additionally they had come up with a caption for picture would have double meaning, but that it would be so subtle that most people would have to have it explained to them. John chimed in that if it worked, they picture would be the most talked about catalog cover ever published. Marcie said that the photo would require a special body type and that when I had described myself over the phone they thought I might be the type.

Her next words obliterated the lighthearted mood I had been enjoying. She told me to take off my shirt. I stammered that it was all I had on. Marcie said that she could tell that the second she met me. Oh boy. This was it. It was put up or shut up time. Slowly, one button at a time, I began unfastening the shirt.

Recognizing my hesitation, Marcie asked me if I had ever posed nude before. My progress with the buttons slowed even further. My head bowed to avoid looking at them, I confessed that I had never posed before period. John must have heard our conversation, but wisely let Marcie handle it.

Marcie asked me if I were sure I wanted to go on and that they would understand if I wanted to stop. I was at the last button. I recognized that this was the last chance to call it off before I went too far. I could stop it here and go home. My mind flashed the thought that this is probably what my dad was expecting I would do when I faced this moment of truth.

To hell with that! I didn't even try to unhook that last button. I just grabbed the sides of the shirt and jerked. As the shirt flung open I allowed the motion to let slip off my shoulders, slide down my arms and fall to the floor. I was so proud of myself for not giving in.

That feeling lasted about a second, then it hit me. 'Do you realize you are standing here, with two people you just met, with nothing on but a pair of sandals,' my mind shrieked. Instinctively my hands leaped to cover myself. Marcie came over and put her arm around my shoulders. She told me that it was normal to experience a roller coaster of emotions; freedom, embarrassment, excitement, confusion, liberation, and so on. She suggested that while John continue getting the cameras and lights and such ready, I remove my sandals and then she and I could go over and check out some of the props they planned to use.

We went over to the set, which as I said, appeared to be some kind of bedroom. My hands were still trying to simultaneously cover all the exposed areas that had previously been for my eyes only. On the way I saw a bath towel and without thinking, reached to pick it up. Marcie stopped me. She told me that if I yielded to my urge to cover up now I would probably not be able to go through with the photo shoot and from experience she knew that I would regret it as long as I lived.

Somehow I sensed that she was right. So I took a deep breathe and willed myself to stand there as close to normal as I could meaning my arms lowered. Seeing that I was willing to go on, Marcie motioned John to come over. John began to explain the idea for the picture. He told me that I was to appear as if I were getting ready to take a bath and heard a noise. I would have the towel around me as I pretended to look out the window.

I said I understood, but that it didn't sound all that erotic. John and Marcie assured me that it would be. Marcie took the towel I had been about to grab and handed it to me. Something had changed. I don't know if it was my decision that I was going to do this no matter what or if I had begun more comfortable with being naked in front of my new friends or what, but I didn't seriously consider wrapping it around myself like I would have done just a few minutes before.

Marcie had me swing the towel around myself, then grip the top two corners in my left fist. Then she told me to hold my fist up in front of myself.

I did it like most people would normally do about neck high. She motioned me to move my fist down. I lowered it a few inches. Shaking her head, she motioned it lower. I lowered it more. Further she said. I replied that any further and my boobs would be exposed. A smile was her only reply.

Okay, now I understood. Or so I thought. Then she guided me over to the window and told me to act like I was looking out to see what had made a noise. Okay I thought, but if the camera's behind me why am I bothering to have the towel down below my boobs. Oh well, I'd just have to trust them. One more thing, Marcie told me, hold this in your right hand handing me another prop.

This was pretty much the pose John and Marcie had me do that day. Of course they had me use different expressions. They had me turn a little this way or that. John gave me instructions to move my right hand inward, then outward, then up, and so on.

Later at my suggestion, which I admit kind of surprised myself, we tried some without the towel. My thought was that at least the picture would be a little risqué with my butt exposed. However I could sense that neither of them thought it was an improvement. It was after these towelless shots that John called an end to the session.

At first I thought he was mad that I had made a suggestion, but it turned out that the reason he called an end was that four hours had passed since I arrived. Now that it was over I realized that I was actually exhausted. I would never have thought that modeling would have been that tiring however it was a relief to just be able to relax.

I figured that I would help Marcie and John pack up the props and photo equipment since they had given up their Saturday to this assignment.

When we finished we stood and talked for a few minutes, then I said I better head home before my family came looking for me. John suggested I might want to get dressed first. Damn, looking down I realized I was still naked. We all laughed about the difference four hours could make. I went from embarrassed about being nude to forgetting to get dressed.

After putting my shirt and sandals back on and as we were walking towards the front door John asked me if I were interested in more modeling. I told him I'd have to see how these turned out, but that I thought I would. Both of them said they thought I would be happy when I saw the cover.

Three months later the issue with my picture came out. I can described how I felt about it in one word, WOW!! See if you can picture this image. The caption of the picture reads, "someone is in for a nasty surprise".

I'm standing at what appears to be a bedroom window. From behind the towel I've wrapped around myself is so large that the back has dipped down and the top couple of inches of my ass cleavage is exposed. A couple of guys who knew it was me in the picture, told me that the towel hanging low like that was sexy as hell.

The top of the window was satin finished so my face is indistinct. However if you very carefully check out the lower glass in the window I'm supposed to be looking out you can just make out the reflection of my bare breasts. Since my nipples are naturally well-defined they are easy to detect once you know to look for them.

Then as you study the picture more you find your eyes being pulled over to the right where there is a three-sided mirror sitting on a dressing table. In the large center section you can see a reflection of a masked person peeking in the bedroom door.

At this point most people assume that the caption means that I'm about to get a nasty surprise. But for those who look a little more carefully and most don't until it's explained to them, in the corner of the bottom, right panel of the window you can see what Marcie handed me. It's a 38 Special revolver, like the ones the detectives always use to have in the old cop shows.

Now you can guess who's going to get a nasty surprise. In case you're wondering, I never did find out whose reflection that was in the three-sided mirror. But that makes it kind of exciting, don't you think?