Just The Tip - Cassandra Dee Page 0,5

out, making sure my rear-end was a shelf of goodness, the curves lush and firm at once.

Patrick ran up to fix my make-up and I basked under the attention as strands of my hair were adjusted, my lips touched-up with some pink gloss, another costumer strategically adjusting the tiny strings of my bikini so that the fabric sat just so.

Suddenly, I felt the top slither off of my chest, my boobs suddenly bare to the audience, bouncing out in flawless form, my nipples peaked and erect.

“Oh my god,” I shrieked at the costumer. “You undid my bikini, you careless slut!”

“Oh I’m sorry,” stammered the girl awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to, it’s just that Deborah said …”

The photographer, who’d I learned was called Max, intervened even as I tried futilely to cover my breasts with my hands. “You look fantastic,” he growled. “Why not try it without?”

“No way!” I squealed. “I’m a model, not some nude stripper.”

“Everyone’s doing it,” said the photographer reasonably. “Look at all the girls around you … some are bottomless as well as topless.”

I knew that was true, that’s what had arrested me when I stepped into the gallery on first sight. But I wasn’t totally ready to bare all.

“It’s only two hundred dollars, I can’t be showing people my privates for such a small sum,” I claimed boldly. “I need more.”

The photographer frowned but whispered into Patrick’s ear, who in turn held up a walkie talkie and murmured something indistinct, letting the equipment chatter a bit before giving an authoritative nod.

“Deborah says yes,” he pronounced. “Three hundred.”

But I was quick to clarify.

“Three hundred for this job or per hour?”

“Per hour,” he sighed. “That means if you’re here three hours, you’ll take home nine hundred bucks. Not bad for a morning’s work, eh?”

And I thought it over. Nine hundred dollars would get me so much … maybe I could buy myself a new outfit, take myself out to a nice dinner, maybe even splurge on that new perfume from Chanel.

“Nine hundred in a cashier’s check,” I said sweetly. “Ready by the end of my session here.”

Patrick nodded wearily.

“I’ll make sure you get it,” he said.

That’s all I needed to hear. I dropped my hands, letting my Double Ds bounce free, the creamy mounds tasty and ripe. Teasingly, I cupped them, deepening the valley in between as I straddled the door to the car like I’d seen the redhead do.

“Lick your nipples,” said Max. “Make me want you,” he commanded all the while the shutter going off in a non-stop whir.

I was only too happy to oblige. I lifted my girls to my mouth, savoring first one ruby red nip, then the other, licking them lasciviously while smiling at the camera before lifting them both to do a double suck.

It only got dirtier though. Patrick reached for the string tie of my bikini bottoms and pulled it loose so that the front flap flopped open. I grabbed at the fabric with a pretend gasp, holding my hand over my mouth for added effect as the cloth slipped over my pussy.

“Oh my god!” I whispered, just audible enough for the crew to hear. “It slipped!”

But of course I knew what was going on. I wasn’t getting paid nine hundred dollars to strut around in my clothes. I was getting paid to go nude. I was baring my assets so that men want me and that car.

Coyly, I dropped my hand, letting the fabric slip through my fingers until the front of my pink slit was revealed, the lips bare, plush and juicy.

“Mmm,” I moaned, throwing my head back, one hand rubbing circles around my clit as the other pulled and tugged at my nipple. “Feels amazing,” I panted. My long blonde hair hung down my back and both Patrick and the photographer had their mouths agape now, although I noticed the photographer’s finger was clicking non-stop at the camera.

And that’s how I ended up posing nude for a couple of skin mag flicks. It started slow. I was a student after all, and couldn’t come up to the City all the time for photo shoots. Plus, I had my doubts. Being naked came easy to me and I’m totally comfortable in my body, but I knew what was happening. I was being recorded and someone, somewhere, would see these pictures.

But I steeled myself. I needed the money and would never meet the people who bought these photos. They were probably car aficionados, dudes who wouldn’t even see me as