Chapter 17

The next week Bob saw a job posted by a company that was selling sex toys and other erotic products. Apparently that business was booming during Covid, too. The description of the work to be done was mostly just making pictures of the items for sale, but they did want some of them to be held by beautiful women. Bob called Megan.

“I might have something you could do. It’s not porn but it’s still something in the sex trade.”

“What is it?”

“Rather than me try to explain it, come on over and you can read the prospectus.”

“I don’t have on makeup,” she said. “I look like zombie or something.”

“Megan. I love you. I don’t care if you have white goo all over your face except for circles around your eyes where you were going to put cucumber slices.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

He looked the list of items over as he waited. The names for some of them were insane and he couldn’t imagine what they looked like based on only the name, itself. He made a cup of coffee on the Keurig machine and had just finished doctoring it (He liked a little coffee in his cream and sugar) when he heard the front door creak open and Megan came in. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a tank top and Bermuda shorts. Sandals adorned her feet and hot pink toenail polish drew the eyes to her toes.

“What are you talking about?” Bob asked, eyeing her up and down. “If that’s what zombies look like I just may let one eat my brain.”

“Ha ha. Show me this not porn but still probably objectionable job.”

He showed her the monitor, which had the description of work to be done. Her green eyes flicked back and forth as she looked at the screen.

“It says there are six hundred and twelve items that will need to be photographed,” she said. “How long does it take to photograph the average dildo?”

“It could be as much as fifteen minutes,” he said. “It depends on whether the backgrounds change or not. If everything is shot against a white or gray backdrop then all that has to be done is figure out the view of the thing that best shows all its features. But outfits like this like to have two or three different displays to choose from.”

“And it says they want forty percent of the pictures to include some part of the human body. What does that mean?”

He took the mouse and paged down the list.

“Where was it?” he muttered. “Ah! There!” He pointed.

A line said “Nineteen different erotic patterned press on fake nails.”

“I’ll need nineteen hands to display those on. In this case I’d do the nails on a hand and then an inset with an enlargement of the nail so it could be clearly seen. There are also robes and who knows what else that can involve the human body.”

“All the sex toys involve the human body, Bob,” she said.

“They don’t want those being shown in use,” said Bob. “I’m not even sure it would be legal to show that.”

“They can show it in porn, can’t they?”

“Nobody’s going to have to do any porn for this shoot,” said Bob. “I’ll need hand models and maybe foot models. If there are his and her robes then two people for that. Maybe a few pictures of a pleased-looking woman holding a sex toy with her fake review under the picture. It won’t be anything racier than that. My point is I can hire you and Erica to be my hand and foot models.”

“And nobody would know?”

“I can find a way to shoot you where you cannot be recognized.”

“How?” she asked, stubbornly.

“Okay.” He picked up a stapler from the desk. “Hold this in your hands. Use both hands and cradle it as if it is a sex toy you love and cherish. Stand over here.”

She did and he pulled out his cell phone.

“Just stand right there,” he said.

He looked through his phone and had her turn so the light was better. He took the picture and then showed it to her. All that could be seen were her hands, a little bit of her forearms, and the color of the tank top in the background.

“Oh,” she said. She took the phone and enlarged it. “That’s actually pretty good. And you could put a set of fake nails on the hands and do an inset of them, too.”

“Now your creative juices are flowing,” said Bob.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the stapler out of her hands.

“You cannot have this sex toy,” said Bob. “It’s my favorite one.” He grinned.

“This might not be so bad,” she said.

“It won’t pay a lot, maybe a five or six hundred, but it’s something.”

She bit her lip, staring at the monitor and then looked at him.

“That other thing ... the nude photography ... how much would that pay?”

“The big money is in residuals from video views or sales, but that’s not what you’re asking about. Depending on where a photo series is distributed, I can get anywhere from five to ten thousand dollars. Normally, the model would get a fourth of that.”

“That much? Really?”

“That much. I have to say, though, I can’t project who will and won’t like a given series. A lot depends on the model. An amateur series might only sell for a hundred bucks.”

“What do you mean, series?”

“Okay. Say I document the woman waking up – acting like she’s waking up. She’s naked. She yawns and stretches and her breasts show. She throws the covers off and gets out of bed. Maybe there are pictures of her in the shower. Then she gets back in bed and begins masturbating. I’d get fifteen shots of her doing that, from different angles. All the time she’s looking at the camera with a come hither look on her face. The idea is for her to look like the viewer is welcome to come take a shower with her, or help her masturbate.”

“That’s awful!” she groaned. “I can just see Chuck Axelrod seeing those pictures.”

“Who is Chuck Axelrod?”

“He is a colleague at school. He teaches phys ed and coaches tennis and volleyball, I think. He thinks he’s a very macho man and has hit on all the single teachers at one time or another.”

“Well, the customers I know about are on other continents. Asia would love you. So would Africa. Europe is a grab bag. A distributor in London would probably sell your images in Norway, where the number of black-haired women is small. With you, though, I’d restrict it to Japan, Indonesia, Vietnam, and Korea. Korea would get it into China. If I can find a distributor in each of those countries who will buy your series, I’d ask for seven or eight hundred each place. Technically, you’re an amateur, but you wouldn’t look like it if I took the pictures. If they liked you, they’d ask for more and further series, such as getting out of a swimming pool naked, or lying on a chaise lounge naked while hands oil you up everywhere. A second round sells for a grand each place. And that’s just for still photography. If you make videos the money is doubled or tripled. Acting in full porn videos gets the actress a minimum of ten grand per video.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now. If you get this job you can have my hands and feet.”

“I’ll want all of you,” he said, innuendo thick in his voice. “But I’ll only take pictures of your hands and feet.”

“You can have all of me,” she said, flowing up against him.

They kissed, and it got passionate.

“What if Erica’s also modeling?” he said. “I’ll need to take breaks and let somebody else take the photographs for a bit.” He squeezed her ass.

“We’ll be up there,” said Megan, glancing toward his loft. “And anyway, she’s seen us before.”

Erica was excited about doing the sex toy shoot. Her enthusiasm infected Megan ... initially.

“Imagine you,” said Erica, “old and gray, with grandchildren all around you, and you tell them the story about how you and their mother took pictures of sex toys together, one time.”

“I will never tell my grandchildren something like that!” said Megan.

“Okay. I’ll tell it, then. ‘Guess what, my darling children. Do you know what a sex toy is? Well, I’ll just tell you because one time your Nana and I played with sex toys while your grandpa took pictures of us!’”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should not do this,” said Megan.

“No, Mom,” groaned Erica. “Where did your sense of humor go? Does Covid kill that, too?”

“When you say something funny I’ll laugh,” said her mother.

“We’ll both do this shoot!” said Erica. “We need the money.”

“Bob is being very generous about this,” said Megan.

“He has to hire models. Why not us?”

“Speaking of which ... I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

“This is something very serious, Erica.”

“Okay.”

“Bob thought of some other work I might be able to do that would bring in some income. It isn’t something I would ever have considered doing, if not for Covid.”

“What? Is it modeling more slinky underwear?”

“It’s modeling ... but without the underwear.”

Bob had warned Erica and asked her to support him in getting Megan to try this.

“You mean nude?” squeaked the girl. She put on the “astonished” face she had practiced in the mirror.

“You’re right,” groaned Megan. “I could never do that, even if nobody in America would see them.”

“Wait,” said Erica, putting her “studious” look on her face. “Wait just a second. Tell me more. What about America?”

“Bob says if he took a series of photographs of me like that he could sell them in Japan. Apparently Japanese men like women who have Japanese hair but are white women. I’m not sure they would like me, though.”

“Why not?” Erica raised her eyebrows. “We’re talking regular men’s magazine stuff here, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Mom, you would kill that. You are beautiful and if we did a glamour makeover on you you’d look even better. You are in fabulous shape. I mean look how you made Bob your slave.”

“Not a good metaphor in this instance,” said Megan.

“Oh. Right. Slavery. Duh,” said the girl. “Please don’t tell him I said that. But you know what I mean. You stole his heart and he’s crazy about you. I’ve seen him watching you do something as simple as washing the dishes and he has to adjust his penis in his pants because it’s getting stiff.”

“Stop looking at my boyfriend’s crotch!” said Megan.

“I’m not hurting anything. He gets boners for both of us, so where is the harm? He especially gets them when he’s teaching me something.”

“He’s my boyfriend, young lady!” Megan snapped. “Stop trying to poach him!”

“I’m not trying to take him away from you,” groaned the teen. “I just want you to share him a little.”

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear yourself asking to share a forty-something year old man with your mother?!”

“I’m not talking about having sex with him,” objected Erica. “I just want to keep kissing him and sucking him and whatever. That’s all.”

“As soon as this Covid mess is cleared up you’ll be allowed to date again,” said Megan. “So, go kiss them and leave my boyfriend alone!”

“I don’t want to kiss the boys,” moaned Erica. “If you do that then they want to touch your breast, and if you let them do that they want to touch other places. Pretty soon you’re fighting them off like it’s a football game and they tackled you.”

“So, you’ve been tackled, then?” Megan’s voice sounded icy.

“No, Mom. I have not let boys touch me anywhere. I just know that’s how it works. I have girlfriends and they all tell the same story.”

“Well, there’s a reason boys try to get in your panties,” said Megan. “I don’t want to bust your bubble, but it’s the same reason Bob is my boyfriend.”

“Okay, now that’s just not fair,” whined the girl. “I like him and he’s safe, because he is your boyfriend.”

“Sweetheart, if you think you’re safe with Bob, you need to think again. He would love to tackle you. When he does these lessons with you he gets very fired up. You’ve already pointed that out. I get the benefit of that, but if I wasn’t around, your cute little belly would be swollen up with his baby in it within a month. Bob is a man, Baby, and all men are the same in some ways. If it wasn’t for me you’d have to fight him off.”

“I might not want to fight him off,” said Erica. “I’ve seen how crazy happy he’s made you.”

“Then why do you want to poop on my parade?” moaned Megan.

“I don’t. I just get so horny when I see you guys together. I don’t know what that’s like, but it sure looks great.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re impatient to grow up, but sharing a man old enough to be your father with your actual mother isn’t the answer.”

“I know,” sighed the girl. “I’m frustrated because I want Josh to try to tackle me but he’s too shy.”

“I thought you two were getting close,” said Megan.

“We are.” She didn’t tell her mother how close. “I have feelings for him. That’s why I asked you to put me on the pill.”

“Shit!” gasped Megan. She looked at her daughter. “Sorry.”

“I use bad words sometimes,” said Erica. “What was yours about?”