The Arrangement
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2006 by Amanda Pierce

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - How much is Denise willing to sacrifice to get the money she needs for her daughter's medical tratments?

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Reluctant   Cheating   Rough   Anal Sex   Slow  

Denise stood in the small photographic studio with three men. Max made the introductions. Gene Bentley, managing editor of Ladies Man magazine smiled warmly as he shook Denise's hand. She had to admit he was not the scum ball greaser she had expected. Middle aged, he was well mannered, immaculately groomed and stylish in a three piece suit.

"Mrs. Robbins, I'm so very pleased that you decided to take me up on my offer."

She grimaced slightly. "I have to tell you Mr. Bentley, I still have a great number of misgivings about posing... nude."

"Perfectly understandable. A great number of our centerfolds feel the same way the first time they do a feature with us. But, Josh, here is a master at both photography and at putting models at ease before the camera."

"It's not the camera that I have misgivings about," she smiled.

"Of course. I know you were an experienced top model before you retired. Why not just think of this as a delayed extension of that career."

"No offense, Mr. Bentley, but I have no intention of making a career of posing without any clothes on."

The remark brought chuckles from all around.

"Perhaps once you've done the shoot, you'll change your mind," he offered.

"Not likely, but i am flattered by the offer and grateful. My husband and I are a bit financially strapped at the moment."

"I understand. Well, your misfortune is Ladies Man's good fortune. Again we're happy that you decided to do the shoot. Now, I'll get out of here and let you professionals get to work."

"Yeah, I've got to go as well," joined in Max, leaning over to peck her on the cheek.

"Why Max, you old dog," she smiled. "I figured you'd want to stay."

"Honey, you have no idea. But I know how uncomfortable you are right now and you haven't taken off anything yet. I don't want to add to that. Of course I will be first in line when the issue hits the magazine stands." They shared a smile. "Now, anything I can do before I leave?"

"Give me a winning lottery ticket," she replied with a nervous laugh. "I still can't believe I'm not going to have anything on."

"Oh, sure you will," he said, turning and flipping the switch on a small stereo unit which the photographer sometimes played during shoots. "you'll have the radio on." They both snickered. "I know, I know! It's an old joke, but i just couldn't pass up a straight line like that. See you kiddo. Give me a call later and let me know how it went," he shot back over his shoulder as he exited.

Denise turned to the photographer she had just met. Like Bentley, Josh Sharpton was not at all what she was expecting. Perhaps a dozen years Bentley's senior, his tall, lanky frame and neatly trimmed mustache emitted a fatherly aura putting Denise at ease almost at once. His voice was kind, his words slow and reassuring.

"So you've never done nudes before?" he asked, offering her a soda.

"No, and to tell the truth..."

He smiled that disarming smile. "I sort of got the impression that you'd probably rather be in a boiling pot surrounded by cannibals."

Denise laughed. "Something like that."

"Well, I promise to make this as painless as possible. Doing nudes is really no different than modeling clothing or lipstick or anything else. What you are doing is selling -- selling a line of clothes or a brand of lipstick. Doing a nude layout is the same except that what you're selling is sex. You're an exceptionally beautiful woman, Mrs. Robbins."

"Please, call me Denise."

"All right, if you'll call me Josh. You're an exceptionally beautiful woman, Denise. Your face and body will sell themselves. All you have to do is let the camera see how desirable your body is. The rest will take care of itself."

"You make it sound simple."

"Oh, it's simple all right, but not necessarily easy. The first time there's always a tendency to be self conscious, to hold back your sexuality. Once you become aware of how truly beautiful and sexy you are however, you can begin to project that sexuality and that's where the photographer comes in. I want to capture the essence of your sexuality. through the camera. I want you to seduce me. I want every man in America, and more than a few women as well, to want you., to desire you, to lust for what you have to offer."

"But that's something I've only done for my husband."

"All right, I tell you what. Pose for your husband. Pretend he is the only person who will ever see these photos. Seduce him! Show him what you want to give him! Make him lust after you!"

"But..."

"Look, let's get started. The dressing room is over there. I assume Max told you we would start with some lingerie shots. You've done lingerie modeling haven't you?"

"Yes. Many times."

"Good. You'll find an outfit hanging on the back wall of the dressing room. Why don't you slip into that and we'll get started."

Despite the calm, reassuring manner of the photographer, Denise was still a bit tense as she entered the small dressing room. She eyed the outfit and smiled. One of her last modeling gigs before retiring had been a shoot for Victoria's Secret in which she had worn an outfit very similar to that which she would shortly be wearing.

The bra, panties, fishnet stockings and matching spike heels were a metallic silver with silver glitter catching and reflecting the light from a hundred different angles. The bra was an abbreviated lift-up style which Denise noted showed a great deal of cleavage and covered an absolute minimum. The Panties turned out to be a thong, little more than broad strings. The stockings added the coordinated look, highlighting her long curvaceous legs and tiny feet. while the shoes, five inch spike heels which pitched her forward slightly, accentuated her perfect breasts and hips.

Turning first one way and then the other before the dressing room mirror, Denise was pleased that her regimen of exercise and diet had paid off. She was still every bit as beautiful as the day she had retired from modeling.

"You know," she kidded, emerging from the dressing room, "while I was modeling I probably would have refused to wear something this revealing. And you want me to..."

"I want you to do what you want, Denise. I'm here to photograph you. What you want to reveal to the camera is up to you."

"But my contract is void if I don't do a nude layout," she replied ruefully. "I'm caught and we both know it," she said, sighing resignedly. "Where do you want me?"

"Let's start on the couch there and see how things progress."

The couch was black leather which contrasted nicely with the sparkling silver outfit. Denise sat on the edge, turned slightly and smiled professionally.

"Looking good," he commented as he picked up the camera and snapped a couple of quick shots, the muted lighting suddenly brightening with a soft audible pop with each snap of the shutter.

She turned, lying back in repose her head propped up by her hand, her long legs extending the length of the couch. Another two or three clicks and she changed position again going through a series of poses she had used many times in her previous career. She began to noticeably relax as the familiar routine of posing came back to her, a fact not lost on the photographer.

"Ready to try something a bit more daring?" he asked, playing the stereo and filling the studio with sensuous, relaxing music.

"I guess so," she replied hesitantly.

"Unsnap your bra, but hold it in place," he suggested.

Slowly Denise's hands went behind her and undid the bra snaps. As Josh had suggested she held the bra over her breasts.

"Now lower it just a bit. Show your husband just a bit more cleavage."

Denise did as he suggested.

"You're doing great, Denise. Now just a bit more. What's your husband's name?"

"Kevin."

"Show Kevin a bit of areola. Go ahead tease him a bit."

Denise lowered the garment a bit more until the upper part of the dark halo was just visible.

 
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