Tara was dropped at the hotel and went to reception to ask for the Callaghan booking. She was directed to the booked hall and as she walked in there was Her Mr Callaghan talking with a short thin man with an obvious hairpiece and a fretful look.
"Aha, my angel has arrived and looks good enough to hit the catwalk already. Tara my sweet dear, meet Mr Stevens, Mark Stevens, designer extraordinaire. Mark, meet my right-hand girl, Tara."
Beaming, Tara did the cheek kiss thing with Mr Stevens and hugged her Mr Callaghan before doing the cheek kissing stuff with him.
As the whole plan was talked over Tara was comforted by the familiar hand up her dress and on her naked butt. He also used his other hand to undo the three top buttons of her frock "So Mark can see what he's working with."
"I need to check sizes first, please, put your arms out and hold still."
Mr Stevens used a measuring tape and checked all sorts of things. Waist, bust size, the cup being checked by cupping the breasts while murmuring the word cup, The word accompanied the measuring of everything as he did it. Inside leg was an odd one for underwear but what did she know. He went right to the top and held the tape in such a manner his little finger nudged her clitoris.
His height meant that when he reached round from the front to cup her bubble butt cheeks his head was well cushioned. Odd that he just did it all with no asking or warning, he was perhaps a little less soft about it than he could have been too, Tara thought. Mr C's smile made her feel safe though.
The small man spoke. "Good, very good, excellent beauty and size, and I do like a model that doesn't whine when she's touched. Very professional Mr Callaghan. Well done." It sounded as if Mr C was getting the credit but he winked at Tara and it made her blush and moisten, just a tiny bit.
There was a curtained off corner, about the size of Tara's wardrobe room, at the opposite end to the entrance of this was a small room, hidden by the curtain. An assistant, Gerald, late fifties, not ugly and dressed in shirt and slacks would pass out items to be worn, Tara would change behind the curtain and walk out down a two foot high runway.
The dressing area was back lit, the runaway had uplights and around twenty chairs split either side. Only six would be filled plus Mr C's with Marc Stevens himself talking about the clothes etc. On stage.
Mr Stevens followed Tara behind the curtain and chivvied her out of her frock and shoes and asked Gerald (Call me Jerry) for set one.
A simple white 3/4 cup bra with light embossed chevrons on the cups. White high cut pants with matching chevrons on the front and as everything else, clear plastic healed shoes so as to look like she had none on.
"Wait until I say your name and the walk on like I showed you just now, heal toe heal toe. You look great." The praise helped steady her.
"Don't worry pet, you look fabulous, they'll all fancy you and if you do fall flat on your face will want to help you up. You look better than lots of full timers I've worked with. You might even get a job offer. I'll keep you straight and nod you your cues, OK?"
"and modelled by the beauteous TARA!" And her catwalk career was off.
Six sets done and all was going well. The lighting was making the curtain damn near see through, the go pro above Jerry's door was getting some bloody good footage and with Jerry helping her dress, it was all on time. Jerry could be a little heavy handed at times, like smoothing down the crotches, but they were rushing and it must be Tara's fault as Jerry was the professional here. But he gave her so much encouragement she was extremely happy.
Mr Stevens was getting requests for closer looks and so some of the male buyers were touching her, all the better to see the close fit, and every grope, er, examination, came with oodles of praise for her professionalism so she must be doing well.
Tara's train of thought, when she had time, was along the lines of 'Why are there no women in women's underwear?' The realisation of the wording made her smile. She must tell her Mr Callaghan that one later.
A near see through set of red came up. Tara looked at Jerry in askance when her pussy was showing through the crotch and her nipples poked though strategically placed holes in the bra.
"Oh, thought he would've told you. This" he said brushing a nipple with each hand. "is the er, naughty line, you know, bedroom stuff." And before Tara could query further she was out to the runway, a touch more nervous now, and excited.
"I have to say you're Jerry is good, the way he handles her gives us the best angles. I bet he's had some good feels back there." Mr Callaghan commented to Eric.
On the fifth split crotch set a fit, six foot black chap in a smart blue two piece stood up and signalled Tara to pause. He spoke to Mark and looked half at him and half at Tara's crotch as he did so.
"I need to see how wide it will stretch and how long it is. Please bear with me Mark." Mark Stevens nodded and said "Of course."
Without a word to Tara the black man, Jason March, Turned Tara to give the others a good view. A large black hand on each hip as he steered her, Tara came over all UN-necessary and nearly came when three thick black fingers entered her quim and turned sideways.
