Chapter 16

“Where did you learn how to do makeup and hair?” Mona asked. She was sitting on a stool in the middle of the changing room while Bob got her hair ready. In her case, nothing fancy was needed. The dress would be the fancy part of the photograph. Her hair would be the girl-next-door part of the picture, and her skin would be what Dick’s eyes lingered on. Her skin would comprise two parts: her face, and her cleavage. Dick’s eyes would whip up and down, repeatedly, as he looked at the picture.

Mona was five feet ten inches, a little taller than average for a woman. She looked to be in pretty good shape, dressed as she was in Bermuda shorts and a flower print blouse. Her legs had no extra fat on them and he imagined her in a bikini. She’d look good. She looked like a beauty contest winner who had gone on to have kids but stayed beautiful, or could be made to look beautiful.

He started by brushing her hair with a product that made it shine. He left it down and braided it in a French braid that would, at some point, show as she looked over her shoulder.

Next, he attached ivory fingernails that were too long for every day wear, telling her he was using a light glue that could be broken easily so she didn’t have to leave them on after the shoot. When he was finished she flexed her fingers and admired them. Her wedding rings glittered on her finger.

He applied eye shadow that was gold, with tiny glitter in it. Her face was naturally pink, so all he had to do was tone her down, instead of adding a lot of color to bring her up. He darkened her eyebrows a little, but didn’t need to trim them.

For lipstick, he wanted something that would draw attention to her lips, but was subtle. He chose a number 39 velvet matte, which would darken her lips, but be the same basic color as a dark pink nipple and areola. As he carefully painted it on, she sighed. He pulled back, thinking she wanted to move or cough or whatever.

“This is remarkably intimate,” she said.

“We’re definitely breaking the six foot rule,” he said.

“I can’t think of the last man who touched me like you’re touching me.”

“This is a unique kind of situation,” said Bob. “Think of me as a set of robot hands.”

“I can’t. They’re not robot hands. They’re your hands. And I’ve been watching your eyes as you did all this. You have beautiful eyes.”

“Why, Mrs. Penwillow, you’re not coming on to me are you?” he joked.

“No, but I can see why some women would want to be photographed by you. This has been a very pleasant enterprise, thus far.”

“Let’s get your lips finished and then a little eye liner at the corners of your eyes and then I think we can get you in that dress.”

She sat as he finished painting.

“Can you get dressed by yourself?” he asked.

“You mean you’d help me if I needed it?”

“Of course,” he said, easily. “If you can get everything on and arranged without disturbing your hair, makeup, and nails, that’s fine. Otherwise I’d be happy to help you.”

“In that case, I’m going to bend to how I already feel and have you help me. I’m going to be very naughty.”

“Actually, that may help with the final product. If you’re a little horny that can show in the photograph. Now, how does the dress go on?”

“I’ll have to step into it and then put my arms through the holes. The shoulders are cupped and will form to me. It zips in the back, but the zipper is only six inches long. Marsha is bustier than I am, but we’re the same size.”

“Once it’s on you I can pull and pin to make it all fit.”

She sat there.

“You ready to go?”

“How, exactly, will this work?”

“I’ll take off everything except your panties. Then we get the new bra and dress on. After that I might have to a little tailoring with pins. Then we move to the set and start making magic.”

“So I’ll be nude ... in front of you.”

“Only if you want me to help you. I won’t put any moves on you, Mona. All I’ll do is get you ready.”

“But you’ll see me.”

“I will, and I’ll probably compliment you. I want you happy and a little horny for this project.”

“I’m already horny,” she said. “I feel guilty about that.”

“What did you choose for a bra?”

“Marsha and I are both 34. When I borrowed the dress she said she wears C cups. I’m only in B cups. So I found this one that is a 34B.”

She held up a bra that was black lace. It had a tiny bow with faux pearls between the cups and could, if needed, be exposed and it would look like it was made to be seen. It would also work with a plunging neckline, if the neckline wasn’t too low and could be worn strapless. Bob noticed she had also brought the matching panties.

“Do you want to wear the panties, too?”

“Yes, and I’m feeling very guilty about that, too. No man other than Dick has seen me naked since we were married.”

“What you want are some sexy photographs to show to Dick, to bring out the caveman in him, right?”

“Yes.”

“But another point of this is to make you feel beautiful and sexy. I can make you look sexy all day long, but if it doesn’t show in your face, then it will look flat. So, if you want to be naughty and feel sexy, there is nothing wrong with that. It’s not for me. It’s for him.”

“And you’ve seen lots of women naked, haven’t you?”

“I quit counting years ago.”

“So I can wear the panties, too?”

“Mona, if you feel good in this outfit we can take a bonus photograph or two of you wearing just that.”

“Dick would die,” she moaned. “He’d know you saw me like that.”

“He’ll also know you did it for him, and that all I did was take the picture. He’ll get to hold you and kiss you and ... so on.”

“We’ll see. Let’s do the dress first.”

She stood, breathing faster than normal as he unbuttoned her blouse and took it off as she held her arms back. The shorts were next and she gasped as he pulled them down and told her to step out of them.

“I didn’t think anybody would see me like this. My underwear doesn’t even match.”

“I don’t care. I’m not taking pictures of you in this underwear. It’s bra time. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He unclipped the bra in the back and she shrugged her shoulders to let the straps slide down her arms. She caught it in her left hand and Bob plucked it from her and laid it on top of the shorts and blouse that were neatly piled on the stool she’d been sitting on.

“My boobs sag,” she moaned.

“Your breasts look like you fed your children with them. They’re still full and shapely. You should be proud of them. Personally, I think they’re gorgeous.”

“You have a silver tongue,” she commented.

“And you have tasty looking breasts.” Bob grinned and when she looked at his face he was looking in her eyes, instead of at her breasts. He stayed to one side as he got the bra ready to circle her body. Her breasts hung, but were full and meaty as he had described them.

“Front catch,” he commented.

“I know.”

“You said the dress is backless?”

“Yes.”

“Then when we take the pictures of you looking over your shoulder we’ll have to lose the bra.”

“You’re already seeing me like that,” she panted.

“Okay. Here we go.”

He stood in front of her and reached around her with both hands. His face was even with hers and their eyes met, briefly as he pulled both ends of the bra around her and to the front. He fastened the bra and then calmly palmed her left breast to lift it and get it into the left cup of the bra. The nipple on that breast was turgid, and looked hard.

“Oh, my,” she moaned.

“Almost done,” he said.

He lifted her right breast and got it where it needed to be. That nipple was also erect. Then he stood back and looked at her chest. He moved forward to pull the left side up a little. He had to pull both breasts out of the cups a little. Then he pushed both breasts together and stood back, again.

“Gorgeous,” he said.

“Really?”

“I’m not lying. I’m going to give you that set to wear for Dick.”

“I couldn’t! I’d be too embarrassed.”

“Mona, if I take a couple of pictures of you wearing that set, and made up like you are, he won’t die. He’ll come more alive than he’s been in a while. And, if you’re wearing that outfit when you give him the pictures, you can then take off your clothes for him and show it to him up close and personal. He won’t die. Just tell him not to have a premature ejaculation in his pants.”

“Good grief, Bob. This is getting naughtier and naughtier! I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

“You want to wear the panties during the shoot?” he asked.

She bit her lip and he scolded her for marring her lipstick.

“Can you put them on me from behind?” she finally asked.

“Sure. You call the shots, Mona. I just take the pictures.

“Then yes,” she almost whispered.

“Full disclosure,” he said. “I’ll need to adjust the front and the gusset. These are a thong design.”

“Ohhhh,” she moaned.

He stood in front of her and looked in her eyes.

“Mona, we’re just friends, here. Nothing is going to happen. If Dick asks you, you’ll be able to tell him truthfully that I only touched you when I had to, and as minimally as possible. You don’t have to do any of this intimate stuff if you don’t want to.”

“That’s the problem,” she moaned. “Part of me wants to. I’m a scientist. My life isn’t exciting. This is exciting.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” he said. “You’re doing this for your husband.”

“Yes, but I’m also terribly turned on that you’re seeing me like this!”

“Okay. Think of it this way. You love your husband but you can’t help being curious about other men. I’ll fill that role for you, and I’ll do it in a way that is completely safe for you. You’ll get to be curious and explore something new and Dick will also get something out of it.”

“I know you’re not trying to seduce me,” she said, “but the problem is that part of me wishes you were.”

“Curiosity,” he said. “Normal. How many black men have you been intimate with?”

“None!” she said. “I told you, nobody but Dick has ever seen me naked!”

“I’m going to take your panties off now,” he said, softly. “This is completely normal in the modeling world. It is routine. All I’m doing is helping you get ready for the shoot.”

He didn’t go behind her.

She was trembling as he gripped the waistband of her white, cotton, utility panties and began to tug them over her hips. Once to her thighs he pulled them quickly to her feet. She stepped out of them without being told to. When he told her to lift her foot to put the new ones on, she put her hand on his head to steady herself.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he said. “Other foot?”

Pulling the new panties up was more difficult than taking the old ones off. Bob observed that her pubic hair was flat and short. He could see her pussy lips, but just barely.

“I have fat hips!” she blurted.

“You have beautiful hips. These hips spread to let your child come into the world. There is nothing sexier than a mother.”

“That’s not true!” she said. Her voice rose an octave on the last word because Bob finally got the gusset where it needed to be and pulled it snug.

“People think skinny, barely mature women are sexy, and they are in the sense of being the prize for the man who claims her. But a woman who is pregnant or who has given birth is the quintessential example of a woman who allowed a man to breed her. That’s ten times sexier than a young woman who doesn’t know how to make love or be together on a truly intimate basis. You just wait and see how you look in these photographs and you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Did you already know these panties are a G string style?”

“No,” she panted. “They were just with the bra.”

“Well, just so you know, they don’t cover any of your backside.” He stood and stepped back.

“Huh,” he said.

“What?” she asked, anxiously.

“A lot of G strings require the mons to be shaped or shaved. The one you chose has a pattern on the front that matches the bra, which requires it to be larger than most. You don’t have any exposed hair at all. That’s good. I’m not sure you’d survive if I had to trim things.” Again, he gave her a disarming grin.

“The dress, please?” she moaned.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I just like looking at beautiful women and you are fitting into that category very easily.”

“You’re going to have to wash these panties,” she whined.

“Don’t worry about it. That will actually help when I start shooting. You’ll see. And remember, I’m giving these to you. You can wash them, if you so desire.”

He had her step into the dress and he pulled it up so she could get her arms in it. The shoulders were cupped and gripped her anatomy. She pressed it to her breasts, but it hung without being held up as he zipped up the back. He moved around to the front to see how the bust fit.

“Did you ever stuff your bra with tissues as a girl?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Well, you get to do it now, sort of.”

He got a box off of a high shelf in the room. It was full of pairs of bra inserts. He picked through them and extracted a pair. He sprayed them with hand sanitizer and wiped them off. Carefully, he pulled the bra away from her left breast and pushed an insert in. She moaned as his fingers scraped over her erect nipple. When he had the second one ready, to go in on her right side, she held her hand out.

“Let me, please. Feeling your hands touch me so intimately is making me uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have asked, first.”

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable because I don’t like you touching me. It makes me uncomfortable because you’re a man other than my husband who I suddenly enjoy touching me.”

“Got it. Be careful of the nails. I can glue them back on, but I’d rather not.”

He watched as she inserted the silicone and then had her adjust it a little.

“I think you’re ready. Let’s make something that will make Dick’s ... dick ... hot and bothered.”

He took her to the set he had prepared and began taking pictures. He took a lot, moving her this way and that, sometimes only a few inches. He consistently said, “You’re beautiful,” or “I wish I was Dick,” or “You’re killing it!” or “Are you sure you weren’t a professional model earlier in your life?” She kept saying things like, “You’re lying,” or “Don’t be ridiculous,” or “I can’t believe how this is making me feel.”