Just The Tip - Cassandra Dee Page 0,6

anything more than accessory because the exotic cars being the main draw. That is, until the agency asked me to start posing without the cars altogether ... just me, open, revealing, and available for all.

It was a little intimidating at first to my legs spread while the camera guys circling 360 degrees. I felt uncomfortable because those guys could see right up my snatch. They could see my wet pussy oiled up and lubed! But they were total professionals, not batting an eye, and I told myself they saw naked girls all the time – I was just the latest in a long line. And so I sank into the work, smiling, preening, working my body, and letting it all hang out while reveling in my youth and beauty.

In all, I didn’t do many shoots. It was probably only a week’s work total. Seven days of nude photo work, with my kitty and breasts on display. Thinking back, if I hadn’t been so hard up for cash, with no friends, no money, and no fiancé, I don’t think it would have happened. I probably would have just mooched off my latest victim, taking him for all he was worth.

I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now. I was young and stupid, poor and in a bad place. But now there were nudies of me out there … and I didn’t realize how they’d come to haunt me.

4

Rafe

“Jenna, Jenna, Jenna!” the crowd screamed. I’d heard a lot about this new model but hadn’t had a chance to meet her myself. As the chairman of Levast Corp., I take a personal interest in all the brands my company owns and that includes going to dozens of fashion shows, meeting designers, scoping out the crowd.

The audience at Jason Alexander, our newest label, was promising. Between a mix of hoity-toity editorial staff, celebrity ingénues, Instagrammers, and serious buyers, we had a good turn-out. I could see Vanessa A., a hot new rapper, preening in the front row. There were cameramen all around her but the crowd kept screaming “Jenna!” without abandon.

Hmmm, Jenna Walsh. Very interesting. She was the newest model to hit the scene, older than most, probably twenty-four or twenty-five. It wasn’t often we hired from the “mature division” of an agency, but in this case Jason had felt he had no choice. Jenna had come onto the scene so suddenly that it took everyone by surprise. The blonde bimbo was the absolute opposite of what high fashion was about – way too curvy, with boobs and an ass that bounced and jiggled with a life of their own.

I have to admit, I was curious myself. Ms. Walsh had come to prominence in a roundabout way. Rejected by all the high fashion agencies, she’d turned to promoting herself via YouTube, Twitter and Instagram. She’d filmed multiple shorts of herself doing silly things, dancing around her room, shimmying on the sidewalk, probably even brushing her teeth.

But the thing is that she was captivating. Her video doing the Cat Daddy in a bikini was riveting, her boobs jouncing out with every squiggle, the girl laughing as she danced, not at all like the cold, hard faces models present to the world.

So I was curious myself. I wanted to see what this Jenna had, what had propelled her to ultra-stardom in such a short time.

The lights dimmed and the music began. A fast cha-cha to match the tropical air, as Jason Alexander was presenting its resort collection. And Mr. Alexander didn’t disappoint. Right in time with the first beat, Ms. Walsh stepped out.

I felt my body harden reflexively, its reaction to the goddess on the runway pure male instinct. Because Jenna really was gorgeous. Maybe she was considered fat by the traditional modeling industry, but to me she was perfect, with big, beautiful breasts and a sizeable rump. I could see her jugs bouncing inside the aquamarine bikini top, threatening to spill out and dazzle us all.

She let out a gleaming smile, waving to the crowds, working the audience, a glow coming off of that radiant blonde hair, her golden skin. I wasn’t so naïve that I thought it was all natural, but damn, she was the picture of health, bouncy and flushed, the opposite of the anorexics the agencies always send over.

The blonde was sassy and fun too. Reaching the end of the runway, she turned and strutted, rocking her hips, smiling over her shoulder, throwing a come-hither look at me. At me? I