I remember the sense of nervous anticipation as I pulled up to the address listed on the community paper ad. I had never really done anything like this before and my tummy was full of butterflies. First of all, I couldn't believe the size of the house in front of me. Granted, this was an extremely posh neighborhood in the hills above Malibu, but I never could have guessed that I would be visiting a mansion like this. The tasteful rolling lawn and circular fountain driveway was a dead give away that this house was paid for with either old money or a new fortune.
Not sure where exactly to park my embarrassing Ford Escort, I stepped out onto the cobblestone parkway and nervously walked past row after row of expensive looking lilies and orchids and a beautiful reflecting pool full of koi fish. As I approached the massive entryway and dark oak door, I felt like Dorothy visiting the Great and Powerful Oz.
I steadied myself and looked down at the college campus newspaper I clutched in my arms. The advertisement I had circled was simple and mysterious: "Looking to make some easy money for school or expenses? Call Victoria at (310) 555-1254! Bikini body and an open mind a must!"
As a freshman student with a humble background at the nearby Pepperdine University, I barely had enough extra cash lying around to buy a beer on cheap drinking night, must less the bulging trust funds most of my friends at the dorms seemed to have. I'm constantly either scanning the want ads or looking for some way to make a couple of bucks without jeopardizing my heavy class load.
As I hesitatingly rang the pearl doorbell, I thought of my conversation with Victoria last night. She seemed very pleasant but direct. She made sure that I understood that this was a modeling job that needed a fresh, nonprofessional look and a beautiful body. While I'm not exactly a Victoria Secret model, I am pretty confident with my proportions...those drunken fraternity boys never seem to complain. After telling me to meet at this address tonight at 8:00, she added a question that seemed rather odd; she wanted to know if I was currently having my "monthly cycle" or not. I told her that while I was on the Diprova shot, I really didn't get much of a period and that there was nothing to worry about right now.
As I puzzled over why this woman cared if I was menstruating or not, the huge wooden door sprang open and Victoria's smiling face appeared. I was rather surprised that she was much younger than I thought she would be. More in her mid thirties than fifties that I thought and she looked like she took good care of herself. She wore a simple white blouse and navy skirt that accentuated her womanly curves.
"You must be Allison," Victoria said, still grinning like I was a long lost relative. "Why, you're much prettier than you said over the phone! And what beautiful eyes you have to match that lovely auburn hair. I'm so glad you could make it this evening."
She seemed so nice and inviting that my nervousness subsided a bit. It's not often a total stranger complements me on my looks like that, and I instantly felt 10 inches taller. I always thought I looked rather plain jane with my pale skin and sprinkling of freckles on my face and lower arms. I could be pretty, I guess, when I fix myself up for a date or whatever.
Victoria led me into her beautiful home, which was full of tasteful art and cool antiques. She made casual conversation about whether or not I found her place all right and that she hoped I didn't have to cancel a big night out to meet her tonight. I was still kind of blushing from her compliments and mumbled that I didn't really have a steady boyfriend at the moment and I probably would be just going to a campus bar with some girlfriends tonight anyway.
"How old are you," she said, spinning around in her bare feet and looking surprised. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."
It was her turn to blush and that I had just turned 19. I explained that everyone I knew at school had a fake ID and that the bouncers don't really card anyway.
She commented again how pretty she thought I was and that she easily could have mistaken me for mid twenties. (There's not much more you can say to an insecure girl like me to pad my ego.) She offered me a seat on a plush couch and padded over to her elegant bar. In mock sincerity, she said that a woman about town like me should enjoy a cocktail and I readily accepted. I'm not one to turn down free drinks these days.
"That reminds me," I said kind of shyly. "How much can I expect to make tonight?"
"I pay all my models the standard rate of about two thousand dollars a shoot, with options to usually double that," she said cheerfully. "I hope that's enough for all your trouble."
Of course, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the thought of pocketing four grand for a night's work, but kept my poker face. I nodded that that would be fine, depending on what the work entailed.
Handing me an ample glass of red wine, she smiled and got right to the point. She explained that she works as a sex therapist and has published several instructional aids for women who are not getting the most out of their sexual experience. Set for release later this year was her biggest and most comprehensive book on helping females reach orgasm and fulfill their sexual desires. She planned for this book to be full of beautiful women illustrating her erotic advice and technique.
I was kind of taken aback by her frankness around such a risqué subject. Sex with the three or four boys I'd been with had always been sort of rushed and confusing. I thought of images of drunken frat boys in the back of cars fumbling for my bra strap while breathing into my ear that I was their true love.
I guess I'd seen books like the one Victoria described in the "self help" section at Barnes and Noble, but I always freaked out and felt like my face was going to catch fire if some stock boy caught me browsing through one. Certainly she didn't want me to be one of those sexy models in those manuals. I took a huge swig of my wine and waited for her explanation.
"Now, the main point is that you feel comfortable," she said. "I can't have you doing anything you wouldn't feel right doing, so if you're unsure or have personal principals against this sort of thing, feel free to say so and you will be compensated for your time without any hard feelings."
I pondered her offer here. On one hand, I'd never done anything remotely like take my clothes off for a camera. Heck, only a handful of my closest friends had ever even seen me naked. On the other hand, four grand is a lot to lose your inhibitions over, not to mention my now empty wineglass.
Summoning all my courage, I told Victoria that I'd be willing to try some shots to see how I feel. I'm a big girl now and isn't this what college is supposed to be about? Trying new things and coming out of my shell?
Victoria was thrilled and hopped to her feet. She led me to her spacious living room that had been converted to a portable photography studio. She had an expensive looking camera mounted on a tripod and gentle background shades in place. She even had one of those changing walls and a huge light array set up.
