Standing there processed application in hand, I waited.
There were so many girls in the waiting room sitting in chairs and standing along the wall. As I glanced about I saw a few looking incredibly comfortable as though they had done this a thousand times, the rest of us showing signs of nervousness ranging from mild to severe. Legs were crossed and feet tapping, hangs were wringing. I saw lip biting and eyes focused into laps not daring to look up, while others darting about the room looking around hoping they were not alone in the way they were feeling. Oh how I relate to these girls. I felt excited but also unsure about what I was doing.
What am I doing?
This was all so new for me and I didn't think I would make it this far. I saw the post a while ago on Instagram.... "Looking for models for print and film, message with your photo and contact details." The post had said along with a photo of a stunning girl.
That was step one, the message. Step two was the phone call interview. Step three the in person interview.
Omg the in person interview, I was so beyond nervous for that. There were so many cameras set up in different angles. I have never had so much focus on just me before, I liked it but it scared me a little I have to admit. They had asked questions and had me do so many things. That interview alone I felt could fill a book.
Step four, I made it to step four. Looking around I saw how many others had made it too. They were all so beautiful and so sexy. All of us waiting, like we were a commodity, a product. Something wanted, something expensive, something to buy. We were an experience, a feeling sought after by those that want to afford it. We were important. I was elite, and I had made it.
I had willingly prepared my body exactly how they instructed. Everything had to be smoothly legs, my under arms, my pussy, all of it. I had gone to the spa and had every bit of hair removed with sugaring. I think I was smoother than I ever had been as an adult. I liked it so smooth and soft that I had wondered why I had not done that sooner. I stood there in the spa room and I just looked at myself in the mirror after, I liked what I saw, I loved how I looked. I had taken my fingertips and I had run them all along the outside of my tight lips all the way back to my tiny hole and back to my little asshole. It was so smooth, I loved how I felt. I thought about that again and I had thought about it a few times since leaving the spa.
My hair on my head was put into two perfect french braids along each side, tight but not too tight at the base of my neck so that they are able to be gripped onto and pulled. My make up soft but I was told to make sure I had non waterproof mascara on and eyeliner that was also not waterproof. I'm not sure why they were so specific but I had complied as instructed. I had deep red gloss on my lips. I came in comfortable clothing because my outfit of the patrons choice was waiting in the room. I had no idea what I was going to be asked to dress in and I could not wait to see. They had taken every measurement possible during that interview to ensure the perfect fit.
My name is called and I jolt a bit. My legs feel weak with nervous. My panties a bit damp. I can hear each breath I take and they seem so deafening I'm surprised everyone cannot hear me. They take my paperwork from my hand in such an informal and almost cold way. A woman in a suit directs her voice to me while holding a camera. "Do you Emmerson Reid come here willingly?"
Do I look at her or the camera? Shit no one told me. Omg I have no idea what I am doing...the camera I assume. It must be the camera. I quickly look right in the lens and manage to stammer out a, "yes I do."
