I have a whole series of these stories written. They all revolve around Tucker Sims and his porn studio. Most of them work as stand alone stories, but some things will make more sense if you read them in the order they were posted. They are all fairly short, easy reads. I hope you enjoy them. As usual, the people and places are fictional. All characters are over eighteen.
———————
Tucker wheeled his Cadillac into a shady parking spot at the city pool and switched off the motor. His nephew jumped out with his swim team bag and ran over to his friends. Tucker made a phone call in the shade and wandered over to the rickety bleachers. It was a rough part of town and the big old pool had seen better days. Tucker had gotten so he recognized most of the few parents who hung around to watch the practice — a fat man who always read a newspaper; three moms who always sat together, chattering with gossip like they were trying to win a contest for it; and another woman, probably a mom, who always sat up in the top corner of the old seats, sometimes watching the swimming, but often just gazing off into the distance.
She was the kind of woman Tucker loved to bring into the porn world. His studio specialized in 'mature amateurs', and he'd gotten pretty good at picking people out of a crowd who might be interested in the business. T.S. Productions — that's the name of his company — made good money shooting video of 'fresh faces' fucking their asses off. The woman in the bleachers was lost in thought, watching a young couple toss a frisbee around on a distant hill when Tucker approached her.
"Nice day today," he said.
"Oh. Yeah," she said, smiling a little, just to be polite, when she saw it was somebody she recognized. "Your son's a good swimmer."
"Nephew," Tucker said. "My sister's raising him alone, and she works all day, so..."
"Oh, well we've sorta got that in common then," the woman said. "Danny's my neighbor's boy. I work nights, and he needed some rides here, so I volunteered. I feel like a dirty old lady sometimes, watching all these half naked boys." She chuckled nervously, wondering why she'd just said that to a near total stranger.
"My name's Tucker Sims," Tucker said as he took his little leather business card holder out of his pocket.
"Molly," the woman said. "Molly Bianchi."
"Have you ever done any modeling Molly?" Tucker asked as he handed her his card. Molly scowled a little as she read it.
Tucker Sims
T.S. Productions
Photography, Film, Video
"When I was younger I did a little, but that was thirty years ago," she said. "You're not seriously giving this to
me
are you?"
"Sure. There's a thriving market for attractive women your age,"
Tucker said.
"You mean I've been cleanin' office buildings for ten years when I coulda been on the cover of Vogue?" Molly said. She smiled beautifully.
"Sorry, I'm not part of that world," Tucker said. "What we do is a little more...earthy."
"Oh my God, are you in porn?" Molly asked as her eyes widened.
"Adult entertainment. But it's not all what you're thinking. We do a variety of things, including mildly sexy photo shoots for calendars and things like that. I've got a client interested in a sexy housewife kind of thing right now, and when I saw you here today I thought, yeah, that's the look right there."
"I'm not sure if I should be, but I'm kinda flattered," Molly said with a confused looking smile. "So what kinda business do you have? You're not gonna take me home to your bedroom and pull out a phone camera are ya? I mean you look like a nice guy but..."
"I've got a studio down in the warehouse district. A photographer on staff, hair people, makeup people, stylists, the works. I've got an international client list, and I've worked with over fifty local models and talent, most of them people off the street like you. My clients and I both prefer the natural 'amateur' kind of vibe from nonprofessional models. The money's good too — fifty dollars an hour to start, and it goes up from there."
"So this 'sexy housewife' thing," she said, making air quotes with her fingers, "just how 'mildly sexy' are we talkin' about?"
"That client's open to a range of things, so it'd come down to your comfort level. Could be fully clothed with a little lingerie peeking out. Maybe some full lingerie if you're comfortable with it. We provide the wardrobe. We've got hundreds of things to choose from, in all sizes.
"All right Mr. Tucker Sims, you've certainly turned this into an interesting afternoon. You kinda made my day, but I just can't see myself doin' anything like that. Not at my age. Twenty years ago you woulda had me."
"What's age got to do with it?" Tucker asked.
"Plenty!" Molly said. "Look, I know how these photo shoots work. A girl's gotta feel confident in herself or it shows real bad in the pictures. Like I said, I did some modeling when I was a kid. There was a year there when it sorta clicked for me and I liked what I was seeing, but there were also a few months where I lost my confidence and it was awful. Made me feel really bad about myself. To be honest with you I never recovered. Kinda messed up my whole life in a way. At least that's the way I remember it. I don't know why I'm tellin' you all this..."
"That's cool Molly. I love honesty. And I'll be totally honest with you. You're a MILF, and the world loves MILF's right now. You should jump in and take advantage of it."
"A
MILF!
Oh my God!" Molly said quietly. "You're a little nutty. Nice, but nutty."
"Just think it over Molly. Back when you were a kid the stars weren't aligned for you, but maybe now they are. Trust me, age is on your side now. Very few women your age have what I'm seeing in you. I'll see you back here in a few days and you can let me know what you think. I won't pressure you or anything. Nice talkin' to you Molly. Enjoy the sunshine."
"Yeah, nice talkin' to you too," Molly said.
Tucker walked down the bleacher steps to the edge of the pool and chatted with his nephew about his lap times. Molly's gaze shifted off into the distance. Her eyes followed the frisbee again, rising slowly on the warm summer breeze.
———————
"Yeah man, that's nice," Jamar said as he circled around Molly. The tall, brown skinned photographer's Caribbean accent made her smile. It was an important smile, the first sign she was loosening up a bit. Tucker was happy to see it.
"Whaddya think honey, you doin' okay?" Tucker asked.
"Yeah. It's kinda surreal, but good, yeah," Molly said as she held her pose.
"It's like fairyland when we get goin' here," Tucker said.
Fairyland when we get goin'? What does that mean, Molly wondered? There she was in a dark studio that makes porn, trying to look sexy, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
"Marsha, fix that hair a little, will ya?" Tucker said.
Marsha swooped in, made a few adjustments and combed out a little clump of mascara in an eyelash.
"Whaddya think Molly," Tucker asked, "You ready to show the world a little more of how beautiful you are? Maybe another button or two?"
"Lets just try it and see what you think," Marsha said as she unfastened Molly's buttons.
Molly looked down at herself and back up at Tucker. Self confidence was not her strong suit. A failed marriage ten years ago and a revolving door of shitty dates afterwards left her feeling pretty lousy about herself. The dates had gradually petered out and she hadn't even been with a man in over a year.
"You sure people wanna see this?" she asked no one in particular.
"Yeah man. Hot stuff," Jamar said as he got in a rhythm with his camera again.
"You heard the man," Tucker said. "Trust me, he doesn't say that very often."
Molly blushed when she realized the tall, sexy black man was sincere. She'd often wondered about black men. Being a blue-collar city girl, she knew and worked with plenty of people of color, but she'd never dated a man whose skin was any darker than her own, and her's was lilly white. Jamar looked to be twenty years younger, Molly thought, and she was right. He was twenty seven, but Molly's voluptuous forty-eight-year-old curves looked plenty good to him that afternoon.
As he circled, finding new angles, clicking his shutter, Molly found herself fascinated by his lean body. He moved like an athlete, often squatting, crouching, moving in, sometimes close enough to smell. His pants were tight — skinny jeans, made out of black cotton duck. Molly could see the muscles in his thighs flexing as he moved, and the ever-present lump at his crotch. She was pretty sure it wasn't a hard lump — she would have been shocked if she'd done that to him — but it looked plenty meaty, whatever was in there.
"Okay, we're good with this look," Tucker said, snapping Molly out of her thoughts. "You're doing great Molly. Marsha, take her back and change things up a bit."
In the dressing room Marsha put Molly in a long pleated skirt and a plain white blouse. A pearl necklace and conservative high heels completed the nineteen-fifties housewife look. Underneath though, was a whole 'nother story. Molly had never fussed too much with fancy lingerie, so the little thong, garter belt and stockings were a first for her. The lacy push-up bra that was mostly see through was a new experience too. Standing in front of the big mirror before the outer clothes went on she was surprised at how she looked, and Marsha could see it in her eyes.
"You girl, got one fuckin' body on you," Marsha said as they both gazed in the mirror. "Jamar's gonna cream his pants if you don't watch out."
"Get out!" Molly said.
"Tucker's right you know. Jamar never comments on the models. You definitely got his eye today."
Back out on set Jamar adjusted his lights while Molly sat on a big upholstered chair. He dimmed things down, romantic and kind of mysterious. After some test shots to adjust his camera they were ready to roll.
"All right honey, sit sideways across that chair, with your legs up over the arm," Tucker said. "That's it. Marsha, adjust that skirt so the top of her stocking shows on one leg."
Molly's eyes caught Jamar's as he was thinking about how to shoot the scene. The tension left her body and she relaxed into his gaze. She remembered a modeling session when she was seventeen where she got that feeling. Back then the photographer was older, not younger, but she felt the same mutual attraction in his eyes. That was one of those magical days when it seemed modeling would become her life's work.
"That looks perfect sweetheart," Tucker said. "Love that languid look. Hold that while Jamar works it a little. Beautiful honey. I'm gonna let you work it on your own now. Tease that camera. Adjust your clothes however you like. Tease us. Make the camera horny sweetheart."
On a normal day, especially in her cleaning contractor's uniform late at night in an empty office building, the thought of making someone or something horny never crossed her mind. But there in Tucker's studio, under the lights, surrounded by darkness, with Jamar's camera seeming to inhale her like oxygen, something changed in her mind. She surprised herself by tugging gently at her skirt, guiding the hem ever so slowly up her thighs, revealing the straps of the garter belt. A wickedly sexy little smile lit up her face.
For someone wearing a thong for the very first time, she was being bold. With her skirt a mere inch or two higher Jamar's camera would have had a look at it. She knew that was probably the goal — why else put her in a thong? But no, this would be it, just a tease. That alone was more than she thought she'd do. No one wants to see a nearly fifty-year-old woman's crotch for goodness sake!
"Beautiful honey. Work the shirt too," Tucker said.
Molly looked down at the soft white fabric draped over her tits. Yeah, a button or two more, she thought, that'd be nice for Jamar. I wonder if he's a tit man?
