Tales of a Supermodel Pt 02 -- Deflowered in Paris
Destiny's modeling career really took off following her meeting with Mr. Greenstein. She was booked solid for weeks on several photo shoots. The constant work left her little time to dwell on the unsettling incident that led her here. It had shaken her, but also clearly served as a catalyst for her now flourishing modeling career. She began to gain significant momentum with industry buzz of Destiny becoming the next "it" girl.
Mr. Greenstein also arranged for Destiny to stay in one of the agency's apartments. The moment she stepped foot inside the stylish apartment, the other young models living there sized her up with scrutinizing glances. The only one to greet her warmly was her new roommate. Anya was a 23-year-old Russian model with captivating green eyes and beautiful red hair. She was also the seasoned veteran of the group, having worked for the agency for over five years.
With every photo shoot, Destiny's primary concern was ensuring that Mr. Greenstein was happy with her performance. Her concern lessened when Betty called with an exciting new assignment. Destiny was scheduled to work as a runway model with a new star designer who was showcasing his spring collection in Paris. She would also be working with France's most renowned photographer. For Destiny it was a trip of a lifetime.
Destiny arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport and was immediately greeted by an assistant and escorted to an awaiting limousine. As she was being driven to her destination, she gazed out of the window in awe at the breathtaking sights of Paris. The first class treatment was unlike anything she had ever experienced and added to her excitement. However, she was quickly reminded that the trip was not a vacation as she was immediately rushed to a fitting.
The atelier was bustling with staff members in various stages of preparation. Destiny was led to a workstation where another assistant greeted her.
"Put this on," the assistant ordered, shoving an outfit into Destiny's hands.
Destiny looked around the room and saw several half-naked models casually trying on outfits. She had always changed in private so having to undress in front of so many strangers left her feeling uneasy.
"Hurry up," the assistant snapped.
Destiny reluctantly removed her sweater and jeans. The outfit she was given was incredibly skimpy. She was nervous trying it on as it the most revealing outfit she had every been asked to wear. She began to slip into it when she was interrupted by the assistant.
"No... no... no... you must remove your undergarments," the assistant said.
Destiny unclasped her bra, revealing her perfectly shaped C-cup breasts. Nervously, she looked around searching for any signs of attention, but everyone in the vast room remained focused on their own respective tasks. She quickly slid off her panties, eager to put on the outfit as quickly as possible, when she heard a sharp, derisive snicker.
"Tsk, tsk," the assistant chided. Shaking her head in disapproval, she gestured toward Destiny's pubic hair with her finger. "Oh dear, you need to take care of that."
Destiny scanned the room and realized all the other models were impeccably shaved. In stark contrast, she stood there with a full bush. Utterly mortified, she hastily pulled on the outfit, desperately trying to stretch the narrow bottoms enough to conceal her pubic hair. That was when Destiny met the designer, Henri.
"Bonjour, Destiny," Henri exclaimed. His heavy French accent rang as he leaned in for the customary French kisses on the cheek. Henri was a lively, distinctly gay, Frenchman with a flamboyant demeanor that shone through in both his words and gestures. "Let's see what we have here."
Henri circled Destiny like an artist evaluating their masterpiece, his sharp eyes noting every detail. "Take in two centimeters here, lift this up a centimeter there," he instructed as his circle of assistants diligently jotted down every directive. Suddenly, Henri paused and covered his mouth with his right hand. Upon inspecting Destiny's crotch, he pointed and smirked at the clearly visible strands of her pubic hair peeking out from the sides of the bikini-cut bottoms of the outfit.
"Oh honey, what's happening down here? It's like a jungle," Henri said with a snicker. His assistants joined in with laughter as Destiny stood there feeling completely humiliated.
"I can see why Mr. Greenstein insisted on you because you are stunning," Henri praised.
"Merci," Destiny uttered in a terrible French accent, happy to move on from the conversation.
For over an hour, Destiny modeled several outfits as Henri and his team worked to perfect each look. Once her fittings were complete, she was swiftly escorted back to the car. Time was tight, and she was already running late for her upcoming photo shoot.
The photography studio was nestled in the heart of Le Marais just off of The River Seine. Destiny walked inside and was immediately struck by its sheer size. The studio was arranged with lighting equipment strategically positioned towards a bed in the center.
"Bonjour, Destiny," Jacque said warmly through his thick French accent. He excitedly kissed Destiny on both of her cheeks.
Jacque was a tall, slender Frenchman. His hair was dark brown with streaks of grey mingled through and neatly tied back into a ponytail. His confident demeanor and unmistakable artistic flair made him impossible to ignore.
"Bonjour, Jacque," Destiny replied with a smile.
"S'il vous plaît," Jacque requested. He twirled his fingers in a gesture for Destiny to do a spin. Destiny understood and completing a graceful pirouette.
"Ah, magnifique, tell me, how are you enjoying Paris so far?" Jacque asked.
"It's totally rad, but I haven't really checked it out all that much yet," Destiny replied.
"Yes, no time for sightseeing, all work, no. Is it your first time in Paris?" Jacque inquired.
