I always said I'd never go to a high school reunion. "Those things are for people who are successful and/or thin" was my attitude. I was neither. Somehow, I ended up going to my 40th anniversary reunion and as luck would have it, I ran into Janie MeDevitt. Radiantly beautiful! Pissed me off that she didn't look any different after 40 years. Lucky I guess.
Janie was my first girlfriend. I met her in forth period Spanish class and it was love at first sight. We never went beyond innocent kissing since we were both too young to drive and consequently were almost never alone. When she found out I had once worked for a major Men's magazine she blushingly told me of this incident which took place shortly after she graduated in 1967.
Well...It all started when I was a senior. My Dad offered me a trip to Hawaii for graduation but one afternoon I stumbled onto an old MGB roadster in a used car lot and fell madly in love! It was robin's egg blue and, with the top down and the wire wheels and everything, well, I just had to have that car! It took a lot of pleading but Daddy finally broke down and got me the MG while sternly warning me that "You'll have to pay for the insurance and the upkeep yourself! Money doesn't just grow on trees you know." My Dad was an insurance agent and he was kind of hung up on "God Forbid...What might happen!" I didn't care about that stuff back then. All I could see was myself tooling to the beach in that baby blue beauty. I got a job at Zody's which was a big discount store and soon had moved into an apartment with a girlfriend and was enjoying my life as a single liberated woman. I was finally able to come and go as I pleased.
And I went everywhere! I loved Beverly Glen and Sunset Blvd. Rode all the way west to the ocean, then up PCH to Topanga where I would head back to Sherman Oaks. My baby blue roadster purring the whole way.
This all began to change when, to my shock, the whole Zody's chain went chapter 11 and I was out of a job! My roommate was sympathetic but she had no money to help me and I didn't want to go to my parents for help.
Finally, I answered an ad in the local throwaway paper for a receptionist with "No experience necessary. Good looks would help." Well, I really had no experience at that sort of thing but I was considered good looking so I drove down to a rather ordinary looking place in the middle of a business park in Van Nuys. I met the boss (his name was Stan) and was hired on the spot for the job. Stan told me they were a publishing company and I could start Monday.
It was only a couple days into the following week that I found out what kind of "Publishing Company" this was. They published pornographic magazines! I'd rather not mention the names of these magazines since I believe they're still being published but suffice to say they were not exactly high class magazines like Playboy or Penthouse.
I was really in a quandary about it. God knows I needed the money and I didn't really have to deal with pornography at work but it just wasn't the kind of place where a girl like me should be working. I knew my Dad would have a fit if he found out about my job but Stan had been really nice to me and the other employees seemed like regular people, so I decided to stay on.
After a month or two I got used to the day to day realities of the job but I still wondered how a girl could just walk into the office...go into the studio, remove all her clothes and allow perfect strangers to photograph her nude body in a wide variety of lewd poses and then sit around and eat pizza afterwards! Like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened! I wasn't a prudish virgin at the time, but my sexual experience was limited to a couple of back seat quickies where I hadn't even removed my panties. It wasn't so much a matter of modesty as it was space limitations. I'd simply pulled the legband of my panties to one side to allow my boyfriend's penis to slide into me. Stan and Harry, our salesman, would kid me about posing from time to time but it was all in fun and I never seriously considered it.
Then one day on the way to work my MG began to make a loud clanking noise and smoke came billowing out of the tailpipe. I knew I was in trouble and managed to limp into a garage where I found out later that my motor had "Frozen up" and would need to be completely rebuilt. The mechanic said it would cost about $500 "If we don't find anything else when we get in there."
Needless to say I didn't have that kind of money and was forced to take the bus to and from work each day. If you're not familiar with the rapid transit system in Los Angeles, California I'll quickly summarize it for you: It takes forever to get anyplace and it costs a lot more than driving a car. Plus! You get to either roast or freeze depending on the season and! You get to associate with sleazeball characters on the street while waiting for a bus that may or may not ever arrive! If I didn't catch the earliest bus I would get to work late and by the end of my second week of busing I could tell that Stan had about had it. I'd been late at least an hour several times and I knew the previous receptionist had been fired for being "Unreliable."
Stan called me into his office late Friday afternoon and I knew the ax was about to fall. We talked a bit about my tardiness and, in spite of my good intentions, we both knew I would be hard pressed to make it to work on time without a car. Los Angeles is just not a rapid transit city.
Stan finally asked me how I was planning to get the MG repaired and all of the sudden I heard myself asking for a chance to pose for one of the magazines! I couldn't believe I'd said it and I think Stan was surprised too. I guess I had been thinking about the money I'd seen girls who were no better looking than me walk out with after only an hour or so of work. I usually typed up their checks and knew that Stan paid them $400 for posing. I figured that, along with my regular check, I could get my car back the next Friday.
Stan said he'd call me later but he was pretty sure he could set something up. He called me that night and told me he'd arranged for a special Saturday shoot and he'd expect me there at ten a.m. I took a deep breath after I hung up the phone. I wasn't so much nervous or excited as I was relieved. I'd get through the modeling job one way or another, get my car fixed and finally go on with my life.
I got up the next day, took a shower and put on some makeup so my face would look good for the camera. I wore an attractive outfit and my best panty/bra set since I knew most of the models ended up posing in whatever they happened to be wearing when they came in. I took one last look in the mirror before I left the apartment and was satisfied that I looked pretty good. The eye shadow I'd used highlighted my green eyes and the makeup did a fairly good job of hiding the sprinkling of freckles that dotted my nose. My curly red hair hung down almost to my shoulders and I wore simple silver earrings to try to add an air of sophistication to my look.
I finally started to get nervous as my roommate drove me to the studio. I'd been trying to treat this like a trip to the dentist. "Don't think too much about it and it'll be over before you know it." Unfortunately, I'd worked for Stan long enough to know these wouldn't be peek-a-boo art photos I'd be posing for. When Stan called the night before he'd warned me..."Janie, you know what kind of magazines we're doing here, don't you?" I assured him that I did. I also knew that Stan and Harry would be posing me along with Roger, the photographer we usually used and possibly even Bruce, Stan's nephew. Bruce was supposed to be learning the business but was nothing more than a "Gofer" at this point. We were the same age, had gone to high school together and even had a few mutual friends. Somehow this worried me more than disrobing for the other guys. They were pros after all and, I assumed, had "Seen it all." Bruce had only worked there a few weeks longer than me!
I tried to put these thoughts out of my head and took heart when my roommate told me how good I looked as I got out of the car. She reminded me that lots of movie stars and models got their start this way and maybe some big shot would flash on my face and start me on the road to stardom! Somehow, I got the feeling that anyone who saw this magazine wouldn't be looking at my face!
I gathered my courage and went in the studio where Harry and Stan greeted me. They had coffee and rolls ready and we relaxed and talked a bit before Stan took me aside while Roger got the camera ready.
"Janie," he told me, "You look terrific! Your hair, your face, your eyes...just everything!" I was swelling with pride as he spoke but then his tone changed. "It's just that...well, this is a young girl's magazine we're shooting today and you look too...high class. Too 'grown up' if you know what I mean. We need you to look as young as possible for this book to sell."
I did understand his point. The young girl mags were always the hardest to find suitable models for because of the age limit of 18. The next thing I knew I was in the dressing room, washing off my makeup and putting my hair up in pigtails. I stripped down to my bra and panties and, donning a short terry cloth robe that hung on the door, I nervously stepped out into the studio.
"Now that's more like it!" I heard Stan say. I noticed that Bruce had arrived and was apparently going to help out with the lights as he was connecting some cables together. He was trying to keep busy with the job at hand but I saw him steal a glance my way from time to time. This just added to my dismay and I was only half listening as Stan continued to explain the type of poses he needed from me. I was confused at that point and was nodding my head numbly when Stan asked me if I was willing to shave my pussy! The shock was just beginning to register when he added that "You don't have to if you don't want to" but there would be an extra hundred if I did. He rambled on about how my tits were "Really too small" for anything but a young virgin type of theme and he was sure I'd be great in this type of setting.