A word from Jayne.
My regulars know this but newcomers may be pleased to learn that this is a very long story with numerous characters and storylines. For continuity, it's recommended that it's read in chronological order but each part is a standalone erotic adventure. So, whichever way you read it, I hope you enjoy my world and feel free to leave a comment; I promise to read every one.
I have published this in the lesbian category as I am introducing my initiation into bisexual sex to the readers. However, there is some male/female sex which I hope any lesbian readers will forgive.
HER.
I was trying to work out what to say to Max about Zak. I just couldn't think how to bring up the subject as it would reveal to Max that I had cheated on him by having two gigs with a client I had met through him. And boy what gigs they had been, in more ways than one.
For a start, they were my first paid extras as a glamour photographic model, albeit almost accidental. What I did with the photographer, who was younger than me, was a quite amazing way to start providing extras as he wanted anal and then oral to the point of cumming in my mouth. On top of that, he was entering a photographic competition with a portfolio entitled 'A Touch of Pink' so it's not difficult to work out where he focused his camera mostly during the shoot! But for the offered sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds he could have done pretty much whatever he wanted for all I was concerned!
But, and it really is a bloody big but, it had all gone tits up, as after the second session when I'd tried contacting him to get my money, Zak stopped answering his phone or replying to emails and, shit of all shits, there had been no reply at the flat where he'd photographed and anally fucked me. On top of all that, when I'd gone to the apartment in Knightsbridge that was supposed to belong to his dad, and where we'd done the full oral, the doorman had told me that it was rented out by the hour or day. 'Fuck it.' I realised I'd been scammed so I decided to forget him, and the seven fifty, and not bother talking to Max about it.
I wasn't really all that concerned as to what Max would think or do if he found out that I'd been moonlighting with Zak. My schedule of the 400-miles round trip from London to Leeds that I was now doing at least every other week, and sometime two or three weeks in a row, was just getting too much for me. Although it was fairly lucrative, and I was starting to get my head above water financially after the disastrous consequences with my parents from the credit crunch brought on by the stupidity of the American banks, it couldn't go on. Mickey was becoming more demanding and had now let me use one of his cars, a nice Audi Quattro but, of course that had to be paid for by another afternoon in bed with him where he was becoming ever-more sexually demanding, both in content and quantity. So, I had to be in London for his now weekly Thursday afternoon visits and that put a hell of a stress on my travelling up and down England so something had to give.
For some time now I'd been mulling over providing extras. As a glamour photographic model, it was clearly where the real money was. After what I almost got from 'Zak the scam' as I now thought of him, and following the sex with 'thick as a plank Lee,' I reached two conclusions. The money from providing extras was good and was what I wanted. Actually, with dad now bankrupt and living in Spain my money tap had been turned off probably permanently so money was more than wanted it was essential. The second conclusion I reached was more contentious. That was that giving sex for money wasn't that different from using it to pay my rent or to say thanks for a night out!
The obvious answer was to find a studio or studios nearer to where I lived that didn't have the restriction on extras that Max had at his place in Leeds. What I didn't quite understand was how he could take videos of the type he had of Lee and me having sex, yet I couldn't do that without being videoed. It didn't make sense, at least not to me. He'd explained it to me that if I sold sex and paid something to him, he could be arrested and charged with living off immoral earnings. Whereas if he filmed me and paid me that was quite legit. I can't say I really got it, even after his explanation although I understood that legally that made me a hooker and that made me smile and think, 'I'm Jayne the whore wouldn't mum and dad be proud!'.
I asked a couple of other girls who modelled at Max's studio to see if they knew of any in London and I got a couple of suggestions. More useful though, was the idea to use Google and search for modelling studios. At that time, I really had no idea what Google was, and so I was pleasantly surprised at how many came up when I typed in 'photographic studios'. I whittled these down to those convenient but not too close, a tip from one of Max's girls, to where I now lived just outside London, having moved out from Mickey's flat.
Whilst this was going on, and I was regularly posing at Max's studio in Leeds, I was missing so many opportunities to provide extras as I estimated that at least one in three or maybe even half of the punters asked for something.
At the same time, I had an enormous piece of luck. Without going into too much detail, dad had built a flat over the treble car garage at the 'family mansion' in Essex just outside London. After he went bust, it turned out he'd put that in my name, bless him, so the people sorting out his company's bankruptcy affairs couldn't repossess that at the same time they had the house, so I now had somewhere to live, that is until the legal wheels finished their slow turning and they could reclaim it.
I had an almighty row with Mickey when I told him I was leaving, especially as I lied and said I was moving to Leeds. "Why the fuck d'you want to go up there, they all speak funny and fly fucking pigeons," was his typically, unthinking response. Despite that, and me being slightly scared of what his repercussions might be, I moved out and set up home over the garage. That meant I had to buy a car and pay the utilities on my 'granny flat,' so I badly needed a larger income.
After probably twenty phone calls I narrowed the potential studios down to a short list of five and started meeting the owners. Four of those were men and the other was Kate, a middle-aged woman whose studio was on the ground floor of a fairly large detached house in a secluded area in southern Hertfordshire, about an hour's drive from my new home. Prior to this, I'd seen two studios and was becoming a little depressed as both were nowhere near the size or standard of what I had become used to in Leeds with Max. I was, therefore, pleased at Kate's place which was large, well-furnished and fully equipped with lights and the other technical stuff needed for photography, little of which I understood. Also, I liked her and almost immediately felt comfortable with her especially, when after showing me around she told me, without me having to ask, "There's no CCTV or hidden mics Jayne so, what goes on in the studio is completely your business, if you get what I mean?"
"Yes, I think I do," I replied, hoping that she was telling me that I could offer extras. The two other studio owners had both told me in more down to earth ways that they allowed extras, so it seemed that Max was the exception rather than the rule.
She was a striking looking woman. Taller than me, she was slim with fairly cropped fashionably grey hair and long, slender legs encased in black leather. Not classically beautiful, as her nose was on the large size and she had thin lips she did though, have piercing blue eyes that seemed to drill right into me as she held my gaze, which she seemed to do quite often.
