"Daddy! Daddy!" Miranda excitedly ran into her father's study, clutching a sheet of paper in her hand.
"What is it, honey? Did you hear from one of those places where you applied for a job?"
Gerald Peters fervently hoped it was about a job. His daughter had her hopes set on a career as a model, a dream that Gerald didn't consider realistic and one he had tried to gently discourage while still trying to seem supportive of his daughter's goals. Getting her to send out resumes and applications for employment to large companies along with the current batch of photographs and measurements to agencies and magazines had been a hard-won compromise. Ever since she did that lingerie layout for a clothing catalog, he'd had a hard time steering her back on track for a 'real' job.
"No, Daddy. It's from Stallion Magazine. They're considering me for a job as one of their Stallion Girls."
"I guess it's like a promotional model. That means I'd get to travel around and represent them at shows and events and stuff. This is great! This is just what I hoped for!"
"'Stallion'? I'm not familiar with that one," Gerald said. "Is that some kind of men's magazine?"
"I think so." Miranda said. "But even if it is, it doesn't matter."
"Daddy, we talked about this. A lot of modeling is figure work. Much of that is either bikini or nude. I do zumba and jazzercise regularly. My stomach is flat and my legs are killer. I've worked really hard to keep my body in shape and I don't have a problem with people admiring it."
"I know I promised not to bug you about that." Gerald had a hard time saying 'no' to his daughter. It would have been different if she'd been born a boy. He thought he could have been tougher with a son. He'd had a hard time handling her ever since her mother passed away when Miranda was ten. Ever since then, she'd been Daddy's Girl, and she could wheedle him into giving her anything she wanted, even if he thought it was completely impractical.
Maybe this Stallion Girl thing was as 'real' a job as Miranda could hope to get. She'd barely graduated from high school and had neither the grades nor the test scores to get accepted at a decent college. Gerald decided it couldn't hurt to let her follow her dream a little longer before trying to talk her into going to a trade school and learning to be a beautician, a dental assistant, or some career that might actually earn her a living. At least until she matured enough to start choosing boyfriends for their potential as husbands instead of their physical appearance or suitability as fashion accessories.
"All right, honey," he said, trying to sound upbeat about it, "Where is the interview and when do you have to be there?"
The offices of Stallion Magazine turned out to be a good bit nicer than the sleazy back-room outfit Gerald had expected. Instead of in a dirty alley or over a pawn shop, they were in a new office complex in an upscale part of the city. He saw from the directory that they actually occupied over half the building they were in, with the rest divided between a national brokerage company and a local law firm.
The receptionist was pleasant and professional. She welcomed both of them and asked them to take seats in the lobby while she let someone know Miranda had arrived for her interview.
Sitting on a couch he thought might be real leather, Gerald looked around at the décor. There were horse statues and horse photographs and horse paintings everywhere. He thought they might be overdoing the horse-theme just a little, but he was relieved that he didn't have to sit and stare at photographs of naked girls while his daughter was sitting next to him. It would have been embarrassing if he were to have an erection under those circumstances. Horses were safe, at least.
It was bad enough that Miranda had dressed for the occasion. Expecting to be judged on her figure, she had nearly gone to extremes to show it off. She had on shoes with heels he thought were too high to be safe to walk in, but he knew she thought they drew attention to her rear end. To show off her tanned skin, she'd worn a white dress with a neckline that clearly showed she wasn't wearing a brassiere under it. The dress fit her like a glove, and it only came down to mid-thigh. When she sat down, Gerald saw that it rode up high enough for him to wonder if she had on any underwear at all.
Fortunately for Gerald, the wait wasn't very long. The man who came out to greet them looked to be in his late thirties and seemed very professional.
"Good morning! I'm Larry Richards. I'm the Promotions Manager. You must be Miranda Peters."
"Yes!" Miranda said, cheerfully. "And this is my father."
Richards seemed surprised that Gerald had accompanied his daughter to her interview. His smile wavered briefly, but he carried on and shook Gerald's hand with a firm grip.
"Mr. Peters, pardon my surprise, but we don't get many fathers who bring their daughters to us. I'm sure Miranda appreciates your support. However, you understand that you will have to wait here while we talk to Miranda alone."
"Yes, I understand," Gerald said. "Honey, I'll be right here when you're finished."
Richards smiled and led Miranda through a door behind the receptionist's desk. Gerald sat down to wait, determined not to pick up any of the 'reading material' on the table.
Richards led Miranda into a small meeting room where another man was waiting.
"Miranda, this is Herman Pruett," Richards said, "Mr. Pruett is our Managing Editor. He'll be making the final decision on you becoming a Stallion Girl."
"Hello, Mr. Pruett," Miranda said, politely.
Pruett was a rangy man in his late forties with a deep tan and weathered skin. Miranda thought he looked more like a farmer than an editor. In her limited experience, editors were pasty-skinned men with glasses who peered at you with judgmental eyes. Pruett definitely didn't match her expectation.
"Hello Miranda," Pruett said. "Thank you for coming in to meet with us. I have to say, you are just the kind of girl we are looking for – young, fresh, healthy, clear-eyed, and, of course, an excellent figure. Double-D, isn't it?"
"Thank you, sir. Actually, I'm an F-cup, and all natural."
"Even better! I take it that you're familiar with our publication?"
Miranda nodded. She could hardly admit that she'd never seen a copy of the magazine, much less read one. She'd been far too nervous to even look at one of the copies on the table in the lobby.
"Then you know that each year we pick one candidate to become our Stallion Girl. The girl selected will have many obligations and responsibilities and we expect her to take these seriously. We will be making almost as big a commitment to you as you will be to us. You'll be traveling extensively at our expense. In addition to your base pay, you will receive a per diem to take care of any personal expenses while you're on the road."
"I understand, sir."
"Do you have any questions for us?" Richards asked her.
"No, I, uh, what about wardrobe?"
Pruett and Richards shared a look that Miranda thought meant she'd asked something dumb.
"That won't be an issue," Richards explained. "You'll be doing all your work for us in the nude."
"Oh! Of course!" Miranda said. "Silly question."
"We know we're asking a lot of you and the job pays accordingly. How does ninety-five thousand sound? Before you answer, let me tell you that the year thing is not a fixed term. If you do the job well, we may keep you on longer before we put you out to pasture, so to speak."
Miranda had never expected such a generous amount. She was nearly speechless.
"That sounds fine," she said after swallowing hard.
"Very well. Since you're the last applicant we have for the job, I hope you don't mind if we make our decision today?" Pruett told her. "Just give us a few minutes and we'll be right back."
Miranda could hardly believe her luck. If they were going to make a decision while she waited, it mean there was a very good chance she'd get the job.
It seemed more than the few minutes that Pruett promised, but when he and Richards came back, Richards was carrying a pile of papers. Miranda saw this as a good sign.
"Congratulations, Miranda," Richards said. "We have decided that you are the best candidate for the position. Now, we just have some paperwork to get through."
"And one final question," Pruett said. "Are you willing to get started right away? I mean immediately."
"Of course!" Miranda told him. "I'm ready right now if you like."
The paperwork was much more tedious than the simple contract and release-forms she'd had to sign for the catalog job. For every paper she signed, there were always three places she needed to initial. Miranda thought of the money she'd make and how this was the big break she'd wanted and she ignored the way her hand felt like it was about to cramp.
When the pile had finally been turned over, Richards brought in a tray with three glasses. He gave one to Miranda and another to Pruett and raised his own.
"To our new Stallion Girl!"
Miranda thought her drink tasted flat and a little strange, but she was thirsty from all the talking and she swallowed every drop.
"Wonderful!" Pruett said. "Now we'd like to introduce you around the office, if you don't mind."
"Sure!" Miranda said. Getting out of the small room sounded like a good idea to her. It seemed like she'd been in there forever.
.... There is more of this story ...