It was a hot summer's afternoon when I reached my other office. It was blisteringly hot outside, and coupled with the humidity in Mumbai's weather, was like walking around in a sauna. I started the AC in full blast and relaxed in my chair, congratulating myself that I was half an hour early.
Although I am only in my mid-to-late twenties, I am lucky enough to know a lot of important people. My parents also worked in the media, and it seemed like the ideal career choice when I grew up.
This was my private office- the office where I did my off-the-books work, the stuff I charged for in cash. It was almost Spartan in furnishings, with a large office desk and chair, coffee table, and couch. Another wall had been dedicated for a blank wall I used for photography, and the table concealed my wet bar. It was all I needed anyway.
A few weeks ago, a drunken friend had mentioned this girl to me, named Priya. I had initially not been interested, but I saw a picture and changed my mind. She wanted a career in modelling for ads, but hadn't gotten lucky yet. Well, who was I to stop her?
She was a few minutes late, but when I heard the knock on the door, I was happy to let her in.
"Hey!" I said, and found myself looking at Priya, in the flesh.
There was something about this girl. She too had just come out of the heat, so she seemed flustered. Relatively tall at 5'9, her long wavy brown hair had been tied up in a simple pony tail behind her head, and she had dressed in a simple white top and a short white skirt with delicate sandals. However, it was not her clothes that intrigued me- it was how masterfully she was complimenting her god-given looks.
Priya had pretty eyes, a cute nose and full, luscious lips- the kind Keria Knightley has, except that woman is flat as a board. On the other hand, Priya was hot has hell. She had a slim, petite figure with large, firm breasts, a tiny waist and a cute butt. However, her legs took the cake. Long and supple, with fleshy calves, these were the kind of legs you wanted wrapped around you while you pounded a woman silly. Coupled with her painted toenails, she'd be a wet dream to any foot fetishist.
"Hi... Can I come in?" she asked, puzzled.
"Oh yes, of course." I said, still a bit confused by her looks.
"Come in, and have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, please. Water."
"I don't have any glasses, sorry." I said.
She took the bottle from me and raised it to her lips and began to down it. A few droplets spilled out of her mouth and down her lips, and made a truly tantalizing sight.
"Please relax." I said, trying to sound a bit confident.
"Yes, thanks. I'm sorry, but it's far, far too hot outside." She replied. "Here's my portfolio" she said, handing me a folder.
I looked at the pictures and knew they were shit. Taking a quick glance at her CV, I realized that although she looked like she was in her early to mid twenties, and could probably pass for a college student on a good day, she was actually approaching thirty.
"So, you wish to be a model." I said.
"Yes, and I think I have the looks for it."
"Well, trust me, it involves more than just looks. Tell me, what kind of work do you want?"
"I don't know, maybe some ramp stuff, perhaps TV commercials, maybe?"
"Oh, OK. So, anyway, our friend Bhavin told me this much, and he was completely justified in describing you the way he did."
"Well, that's his thing. Anyway, I've been trying for a while now and haven't really gotten a break yet."
"Well, obviously you haven't."
"Why?"
"Well, it's more than just about looking good. You should also know how to actually model. Besides, these pictures..."
"What about them?"
"No offense, but if I wanted to know what you looked like dressed in different clothes and pouting at the camera, I'd just send you to a mall and follow your instagram feed. These aren't really much better than selfies. Tell me, did you get these for free?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, they're no good. They don't capture you being alive, and actually expressing what the photographer wants you to express."
"So what should I do?"
"Well, people trust me to find good models for them because I do know how to capture just that. I used to be a photographer, but I have other pursuits. I can click some shots of you, and let's hope my clients will like them."
"When do you want to do that?" she asked.
"Well, right now. I don't have time to waste."
"Right now?" she asked, surprised. "I don't have clothes, haven't done much make-up..."
"Well, that's the magic. They can see the real you." I pulled out a camera from the drawer.
"Now, if you don't mind, would you please stand up and pose there?"
I hit the lights and clicked a few pictures of her. Starting with simple stuff, I asked her to get more and more into it, and soon had her smiling sexily at the camera.
"Well, I think that's good. We need to see if the model can actually take orders and emote. Which brings us to the next part."I said.
"Which is?"
"Take off the shirt, please."
"What? No!" she said.
"OK, get out." I replied.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, you are the one looking for my help. Not the other way around. The girls who get into this field start when they're still in high school, and you're really late to the party. Now, I need to see you following orders."
"But why candid shots?"
"How do you think they hire underwear and bikini models?"
"I've never thought about a career in that."
"Well, you can do as I say, and get a career, or you can pick up your bag and get out."
"No, it's OK." She said.
Gently she took off her white top, revealing a slim, sexy body. She had a long neck, and a flat tummy, but more importantly, tits that any man would want to grab. She wore a simple bra with it too, but today, for some reason, it looked like she was dressed in hot lingerie.
"Yeah, so pose with it. Turn on the viewer."
