Ursula is, you will recall, photographer Charlie Wentworth's favorite model.
First, let's talk about Ursula's background: She was born and raised in Sweden and had emigrated to the United States a little less than a year ago.
In Sweden she had almost never seen a black man or woman, and never up close. To make matters worse, her father was an avowed racist, although he would have denied it vehemently if you had ever called him one. He just didn't care for them, even though he never even spoken to a person of color. Of course he had pretty much poisoned his daughter's viewpoint and convinced her that blacks were all lazy, illiterate, smelled bad and possessed any number of other disgusting traits.
When Ursula arrived in this country she immediately found modelling work, as she was every fashion editor's dream: tall at about six feet, slender and she moved in a graceful, somewhat haughty manner. She also arrived with her father's prejudices.
She had seen Charlie Wentworth's credit line attached to some beautiful photographs in the top fashion magazines and was delighted when her agent told her to report to his studio, along with several other girls. In talking with the girls they all agreed that Charlie was a delight to work with.
The fashion coordinator had already dressed her in her first outfit and she was waiting for the shoot to begin, when Charlie appeared.
She was shocked and appalled. No one had told her that he was a black man! A very black man at that.
She considered leaving immediately, in a huff, but she was already dressed for the shoot and figured it wouldn't give her career a boost if she did so. The idea of taking direction from a... a... a... well you know, made her skin crawl.
As the shoot progressed he proved to be none of the things her father had told her about blacks. He was energetic, soft spoken, well mannered and clearly well educated. What was she to think?
By the time they broke for lunch and were sitting around eating their box lunches she was thoroughly confused. Charlie came over, sat with her for a time and inquired about her background, among other things. She decided against bringing up her preconceived notions about his race. Good idea, Ursula.
He even smelled good.
By the end of the day they had developed a mutual respect.
Over the course of the next few months Charlie booked her for a number of jobs and every time she looked forward to working with him, and he likewise with her.
So, when she offered a dinner invitation he accepted without hesitation, in spite of his policy of never going out with models he booked for photo shoots. This clearly an exceptional case.
Clearly!!!
Ursula selected a restaurant, they agreed on a time and further agreed that Charlie would pick her up outside her apartment building.
Having settled on a time and place, Charlie dressed in his best casual, but dressy outfit: a sport coat and open collar. He hated neckties and would only wear one if he were going to a client meeting and felt that he would stand out, in a negative way, without one.
Charlie was as nervous as a teenager getting ready for the prom. He thought about having a drink to settle himself down, but figured that would be a decidedly bad idea.
Ursula, for her part, dressed very modestly in hopes of keeping any carnal temptations from interfering with dinner: She selected a lightweight turtleneck jersey and dark slacks.
The restaurant she had selected was of no particular ethnicity, other than the somewhat vague category of 'American Cuisine', whatever that combination of English and French meant.
They had a delightful dinner. The food was so-so, but the company and the conversation were first rate. In spite of her attempts to dress as modestly and as plainly as possible she still turned heads when they entered the restaurant. She moved with such grace you couldn't help but notice. Charlie was beaming!
In spite of her apparel, when she looked intently at him with her clear blue eyes, touched his arm or held his hand they could both feel the sexual electricity and both of them were barely able to restrain themselves. If they did not make love tonight, he thought, they never would.
Ursula paid for dinner and Charlie made no protest since she had made it clear that one of the conditions of her agreeing to go out with him was that she would buy. He made note of the fact that she was a generous tipper.
They drove back to Ursula's apartment. Charlie parked in one of the spots in the garage reserved for guests. As they walked toward the elevator the temptation on Charlie's part to grab her beautiful ass was overwhelming, but he knew the timing was bad and he might spoil the moment , and he certainly didn't want that!
They entered the apartment and there was a brief awkward moment then Ursula said, "I'd offer you a drink, but all I have is some Akvavit, and I believe that's an acquired taste. It's a Swedish thing and even I'm still working on it."
"No thanks. I'm not much of a drinker either."
"I'll make some coffee," she said and floated; there was no other word for it, off toward the kitchen. Charlie followed her. While the coffee was brewing, she turned toward him.
"Come here Charlie."
He did as she asked. She put her arms around his neck, leaned into him, pressed her slender body against his, cocked her head to one side, closed her eyes and kissed him full on his lips.
Now he thought might be the time to grab a handful of her rear end and he cupped a hand under each cheek and squeezed. She murmured her approval. Their tongues added to the stimulation and Ursula felt his excitement begin to swell and press against her belly.
For some reason they both forgot about the coffee.
"Let's go to my bedroom," she suggested. She unplugged the coffee maker and led him down the hall. The only light in the room was a small table lamp on a nightstand. They both undressed, he rather hurriedly, she more slowly, almost reluctantly.
At last, Ursula stood there, that perfect body, naked in the half-light of her room. Her head was down and her eyes lowered. Her hands were behind her, a picture of a certain shy innocence.
It suddenly occurred to Charlie: she had never done this before!
He had taken off his clothes and was seated on the edge of the bed. He rose and walked over to her.
"Ursula, are you a virgin?" he asked bluntly. She mumbled, "Yes." And began to sob gently.
