Was it the incomprehensible accent or her really big boobs? Kelly meets a curious woman who asks pointed questions.
There are other stories about Kelly, but each one can be read independently. Please read those too if you enjoy this one. I have started writing a couple of others and will post them, should readers continue to like reading about her experiences. There was some fun stuff that happened before the end of school and over the summer already.
If you want to read the posted ones in chronological order, start with "A Party at Jeni's, then read "What is There to Do", "Dinner for Three", "Kelly and Lindsay Alone Together", and "Study Break". I have a couple of other stories up that aren't about Kelly.
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Modeling
Sometime in April, the first year
"You are homozexual," Yana said. It was not a question, it was a description. "Everyone is knowing zis hat school. I myzev am zeeing you kezzing your churlfrend ven she vas dropping you off here."
I am not homosexual. Not that it was any of her business one way or the other. I had known this girl all of 15 minutes, and it was rather a forward statement for her to make. Still, as she seemed to think she knew so much about me, I gave her an answer. "I'm bi," I said. "We have a boyfriend."
Her blue eyes shot up. "A dreesum. Oh, how darink huff hugh." Her voice was barely audible, not a whisper, but low. We were not being overheard.
I couldn't be at all sure what she was saying, if it was a compliment or a condemnation. Her accent made it hard to tell.
"I av neber bean putting my tung in anudder voman for zexual porpoises."
"What?" I asked softly. Between the low tone of her voice and her accent, I had no idea what she had said.
"Leaking."
I made a clueless face to show her I didn't understand. She raised her hand, the first two fingers forming a V, then turned it to her face and stuck her tongue between them and wriggled it. "Coonilhingas."
"Cunnilingus?"
"Yuss."
"You like it?" What the heck was this girl talking about?
"Ob corse. Only I am neber doing it to a vooman."
Ah, I understood finally. She was telling me she wasn't gay. I rolled over and tried to sit up, but her leg was still on top of me. Bob, the photographer called to me to hold the pose as he adjusted the lights and reset the focus, so I lay back down.
So, what was I doing with another naked woman with her leg draped over me being quietly questioned about my sexuality?
Modeling.
Needing money to finish the term, I had offered myself as a figure model for the art department. I knew there was a chance that I would run into a fellow student or two, but I figured I could handle it. A recommendation from the life drawing professor had led to this session with a local photographer, posing with another model. The photographer had assured us both individually that posing together was not going to be in the least sexual, he just wanted to work with two subjects and he liked the contrast between our figures. Meaning, tactfully, I suppose, that she had one and I did not.
So, there we were. His studio was a detached building behind his house. It was quite professional, and he had an assistant, another woman, there to help out. Yana and I had been shown to separate changing rooms where we left our clothes and came out in our birthday suits. Interestingly, neither of us had bothered with the robes provided.
"Hugh av been vit many churls?" Yana was saying, probing.
"What?"
"Churls. Veemen?"
"No, not many," I told her. Six or so sn't many.
"I vood tink it cats booring vidout..." Yana seemed to struggle for the right word. She curled her fingers into a circle and pushed two fingers of her other hand through them.
"A penis?"
"Yuss. A gock." She nodded. "Being bisexual, hugh are hexited being with me den, beguz I ham peautiful and here naked wit hugh."
Well, yes, she was beautiful and naked, no question about that: a little shorter than I, with luxurious brown hair that fell past her shoulders and very large breasts, a thin waist, and shapely, comely hips. Modest about it too, it seemed. Her skin was so soft where she brushed her body on mine. And we were so close I smelled the soap she'd bathed with that morning, but also the scent of her, of Yana. I wasn't getting a wet-on for her though. I was being ultra professional, as a good model should be. She was gorgeous, and soft, and sweet smelling however.
"Yana, you are very pretty." I assured her, "but just because we are naked together doesn't mean I am attracted to you. This is just a job. I am in a relationship." There had to be a lot more arguments in my favor for why she didn't turn me on, but I was having a hard time thinking of any.