In her bedroom, Wendy took twenty pictures of herself in sexy lingerie using the high resolution camera of her smartphone. She checked every picture and deleted it if it didn't look good enough before retaking the picture again. Each image was more erotic than the last, going from decent to fully explicit. Her initial reluctance gave way after Wendy told herself that she was going to impress Lauren with those pictures, which would further her goal.
Besides, she rationalized, it wasn't as if these photos were going to go public...and even if they did, it wouldn't be the first time she had showed her body off in public. The performance at Rebecca's beach house hadn't been that long ago...and it hadn't been so bad. She had actually enjoyed it. Taking these photos was like the performance, except one frame at a time. And she was, to be honest, enjoying this almost as much as she had the performance.
Part of the pleasure was knowing it was Lauren who was going to be looking at her. She did, after all, like Lauren...really liked her, more so especially over just the last few days, for some reason. She hardly could stop thinking about her...
This photo session, she reflected, must be a little like the ones for the porn magazines with which she was now so comfortable. It may be just her, a one-girl crew, but she could make the result come pretty close to the real thing, she thought. It did cross her mind what it might be like if this were an actual pro shoot, with a photo crew and a glossy publication to end up in...and her at the center of attention. She liked porn models; she had come to view them, generally, as ideals of femininity and beauty. She enjoyed their photos. And now she was kind of like one; no, not like, she was one right now. She was one of them. She hadn't imagined she could be like them that much, but now...
One after another, the photos she was producing were good. They showed a good-looking, sexually desirable, and obviously available teen girl. The camera couldn't lie; she was hot. If she saw herself, posing like this, in a magazine, she'd get off...to herself. She would like a girl like herself, would be sexually interested.
Lauren will be, too. Nice job, Wendy,
she thought.
Not once did Wendy question the decency of her project. Her once-keen sense of modesty was now mostly in decadent ruins. What was left would not survive the corruption which was bombarding her daily, and that which was coming her way soon.
Mary, Wendy's mother, picked out a black evening dress from the closet. It was a modest dress that wasn't too revealing, but still made her feminine curves stand out in an attractive way. Despite her age of forty-four, Mary was still attractive. She worked out regularly and maintained her figure well, being able to retain her hour-glass figure. Even though Mary told herself she was doing it mainly for health reasons, she wished her husband was home more often to appreciate it.
Though she had a sizeable cosmetic collection, a gift from an acquaintance a few years back, she hardly ever wore any make-up, reserving it for the rare special social event, and even then only used just a very light touch of it. She favored natural looks and didn't like over-reliance on beauty products.
Her daughter's heavy use of make-up lately--and how attractive it had made Wendy--had been playing on Mary's mind, even though she had spoken against it to Wendy. Her girl was becoming a real beauty in front of her eyes, and her use of make-up had no doubt been part of it. As a result, Mary had started to try to imagine herself with a heavier use, as well, but had been reluctant to give her daughter a bad example that might reinforce her questionable direction of late; and besides, that just wasn't her...that just wasn't Mary Livingston.
After looking at herself in the mirror, Mary sighed. For tonight, despite her misgivings, she again entertained the idea of putting on more make-up than she usually did for social occasions. She would, after all, be among the rich--and glamorous, probably--and she did want to fit in, as much as she could. But her conservative side nevertheless finally prevailed, as always, and she opted not to, electing instead to stick with a touch of mascara, as well as lip gloss, which, as her one concession to emulating Wendy, she had decided to try again after seeing her daughter using it almost on a daily basis for the past month.
Mary's conservative preferences extended to her clothing and accessories. The heels of her shoes were almost never above one inch. The highest was only two inches and it was rarely worn. She owned sexy form-fitting clothing and jewelry, but most of them were conservative because she preferred modesty and discreteness.
Mary glanced down at her hands. She was proud of how smooth, and feminine they were. Her nails were not short, at an attractive yet practical medium-long length. She had seen them longer on other women and admired them, but again, that just wasn't her.
Fingernail polish was not her style, either. Yes, occasionally she tried a clear gloss, but it had been years since she had ventured to apply a colored polish. Even then, she had never thought a bright color was appropriate for a mother of two; maybe on younger women and girls, it might work, but anything too bold sent the wrong message, in her opinion.
Regardless, Mary felt a bit of pride for not using too many cosmetics on herself. Her belief was that she looked fine already without make-up. Mary was fairly confident about herself, and believed that using too much make-up would only hide her natural beauty. Many women her age didn't maintain the same figure that she did, for which she worked hard through a regular exercising regimen. For them, using excessive make-up was just a way to compensate for their deficits, in her opinion. However, Mary would never consciously admit that she was also afraid of putting on too much make-up and of the image it might project.
While stroking her lightly tanned face, Mary smiled at her own image. Reaching towards the back of her head, she grabbed a mass of her hair and tied it into a pony tail, one of the few hairstyles with which she felt comfortable that wasn't too plain nor too flamboyant.
It had been over a year since she had been to a dinner party. In the past few years, due to her husband's overseas work and busy schedule, she could only attend social gatherings alone, or with friends or her daughters. It was a bit awkward without the company of her husband. Even though the dinner invitation from Ms. Powers wasn't really formal, Mary wished her husband could accompany her. In fact, she harbored a slight bit of resentment toward him for leaving her alone so often, both in social situations and at home.
"Honey, are you ready?" asked Mary from Wendy's open bedroom door.
Wendy placed the tube of lipstick down before turning away from the vanity at which she was sitting to face her mom and spoke through glossy fuchsia lips, "I'm ready, Mom."
Mary was surprised. Wendy's appearance in the gorgeous dress, make-up, and accoutrements she wore was stunning. Mary had not quite fully realized, before this moment, exactly how beautiful Wendy was becoming, and could be. But there was more. Wendy was...
sensual
. Mary could not bring herself to apply the world "sexy" to her own daughter, though that was clearly her impression, if not "slutty". And it was the dress, more than anything else, which created that impression. "When did you get this dress?"
"Sarah gave it to me as a gift about a week ago. It looks nice on me, doesn't it?" Wendy fluttered her eyelashes, which were teased with black mascara. The silver and purple eye shadow sparkled on her eyelids. It was a playful gesture, but with a subconscious flirtatious intent. Cynthia's suggestions on the day before had gained a small foothold on Wendy's mind.
Barely noticed feelings passed through Wendy:
Show her your body...tease her...make her look...make her desire you.
