Chapter 11 - Broaching New Things

“So this is just a quick fashion show. Sort of, anyway,” Lia explained as I followed into her studio bedroom. I’d been expecting a quiet Wednesday evening with nothing more than a little light cuddling in front of the television, but instead of that Lia had pre-warned me we would probably be moving on to the boning stage of the evening earlier than usual or as she had described it in her lunchtime email, ‘at the drop of a pair of knickers’.

“So this is going to be a fashion show but only ‘sort of’?” I asked. Surely it either is or it isn’t?

“Yep. Went into town, bought some super sexy knickers, and I’m wondering which you think would be the best choice to start the ‘Knickers’ series of boudoir photos.”

“That’s it’s official title? The ‘Knickers’ series?”

Lia shrugged. “Sure, why not, but it’s your site so maybe you should think about what you want to call it? I’ve already voted.”

“You have?”

“Yep. I ran a poll and so far ‘A Blonde Hides Her Bush’ is way out in the lead.”

“I see. Well I’ll take it under advisement of course, but just out of curiosity what are the other entries and how large is this poll anyway?”

“Other entries?” Lia sighed. “Jim, how can I rig the poll if I allow people a choice?”

“And so how many of these ‘other people’ are there?”

Lia smiled at me.

I shook my head. “Of course, if you’re going to rig the poll, you can’t risk letting anyone else cast a vote, can you?”

“Nope. Politics 101 baby.”

“Right. Well. Thank you for the suggestion and I’ll put it to the Committee in due course.”

“You’ve a committee?” Lia asked, caught off-guard by my swerve for once.

“Delegated blame, baby,” I teased as Lia bobbed her tongue at me. “But you said something about this might only be a ‘brief’ show?”

Lia groaned. “For that pun it should be no ‘show’ at all, but I guess asked for it. Kind of. But a brief show of briefs? Jim, I’ve been thinking about sexy knickers and trying on sexy knickers all day. Makes a girl quite frisky you know.”

“Frisky?” I asked, loving how Remy’s slightly old fashioned vocabulary came through at the most unexpected moments.

“Yep. Maybe even randy.”

“And ‘randy’ is a step up from frisky?”

“Oh absolutely, and a very serious step, too.”

“I see. Is there a step beyond ‘randy’?”

Lia nodded. “There is, but we’re not there yet.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope. You can tell if we ever get above randy.”

“Oh? How?”

“Well the clue is you are not nude, not lying on your back, and not being ridden hard in the ‘how many times can I cum before I pass out’ competition.”

“I see. Interesting competition.”

“It is. I’ve always enjoyed entering, haha.”

“And has that ever happened, your passing out from an excess of cumming?”

“Nope, and I don’t ever want it to. I’ve a friend who had a boyfriend who bragged he could do that to her, so she looked it up. Oof, it’s a real thing all right, but it’s also a really bad thing, y’know, like head trauma kind of bad. So. If I ever ask you to do that to me, just take it as a metaphor to bone me until I get silly giggly from lots of cumming. I think that’s an outcome we can all be happy with, haha.”

“I see. Let me just make a note of that,” I said, miming my writing down in a notebook as I read my words out aloud. “The ... Lia ... Scale ... of ... Erotic ... Need ... runs ... from ... frisky ... to ... randy ... to ... ride... ‘em ... cowboy. Got it.”

Lia chuckled. “Good boy, and we’re closing in on cowboy time already,” she said as we looked at the collection of bags already laid out on top of the bed she usually used to pose with bears on.

“We are?” I asked as I did the math of time per knickers times number of little bags I could see. Lia’s idea of ‘brief’ seemed a little elastic.

“Yep. Some are just variations of colour so no need to see me try them all on.”

“Got it. You certainly look like you were busy preparing for this ‘idea’ set?”

Lia grinned. “Even if it doesn’t fly I still come out of this with some sexy new knickers so, you know, win-win for me. Now, there’s just one thing. You see that packet over there, to the side from all the others? That’s not for tonight.”

“It’s not?”

Lia shook her head.

“You know I have to ask this, but, why not?”

Lia grinned as she took a run at a Jack Nicholson impersonation and missed by a mile. “That set? You can’t handle that set.”

I winced on his behalf. “I can’t?”

“Jim, when you do finally get to see me in what’s in that bag? It will have to be the last set of a shoot because after that you will be experiencing a medical emergency.”

“You mean my heart?”

Lia chuckled. “Nope, I mean your balls, as in you will need to cum after you see me in those. Them. That. Whatever. Not telling”

“Knickers can do that to a man?” I asked, hopeful they could.

“Who said anything about knickers?” Lia smirked, amused she had wrong-footed me. Again.

“So not knickers? I was thinking knickers by association with all the other dainty little knicker bags...”

Lia nodded. “Well I can see how you might think that, and it is a reasonable presumption, Sherlock, but I must say I’m shocked to hear you’ve been ‘associating with knickers’. I knew you were into some kinky shit on the quiet but wow. Knicker association. Proves you never can tell, can you?”

“Okay so not knickers then,” I said, Lia doing her poker face on me. Interesting thing, Lia’s poker face. It’s not an expressionless face but one so full of expression it’s like trying to pick the winning number from a spinning roulette wheel, and luck always favours the lady of the house. “Can I at least get a hint?” I pleaded.

“Hmm, a hint? Okay, you can have a hint. It’s something I think is a cliché, but this is a cliché in chocolate that I want to make fresh, but to do that I’m going to need a little help from outside.”

“And that’s your hint?”

“That’s my hint.”

“Thank you. Very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course you know it doesn’t tell me anything though.”

“Of course I know, it’s a hint dumbass, you know, something that hints at what’s in the bag but doesn’t tell you, you know, because that’s the way that hints operate.”

“I see, so, like knickers but not knickers but also so not knickers that I’m not ready for them?”

“Exactly!” Lia grinned. “Don’t worry, I promise, you’ll be ready for what’s in the bag some day, just not yet.”

“No?”

Lia shook her head. “Can’t take the risk, not until I’ve made sure you’ve built up a resistance to my lingeried sexiness first.”

I chuckled. “‘Lingeried’ sexiness? That’s a word is it?”

Lia smiled indulgently. “Aw, he wants to argue semantics instead of seeing me, topless, in a succession of sexy knickers?”

“Whoa. You in sexy knickers? Topless. Now that’s something I want, crave, nay need to see,” I teased. “Please, let the show commence.”

“Thank God,” Lia smiled. “I’ve been moist all day thinking about and planning this. What? I really actually literally mean it. Think about it a minute. I wear nice knickers I know, but I never really go for anything that’s obviously ‘sexy’ that often, and it’s been a while since I went shopping for any of those, so trying and thinking and buying sexy knickers? Jim, I’ve been on tenterhooks so much I swear my clit is vibrating! And that is why I’m not going to be modelling everything, only the highlights, just enough to give you an idea of what I’ve got and how it looks so you can go away and think about how to shoot me this weekend. So, soon as I think you’ve seen enough? Cum City, population two, haha. Now, want to give a girl a hand as she strips?” she asked, taking my hand to steady her as skirt and jumper came off ... and that was it. All she had been wearing was a purple Pringle pullover and a subtly elegant tartan midi-nearly-mini skirt.

“No knickers?” I teased.

“Nope. Need the fresh air to keep my fanny dry. Okay, dry-ish. Knickers? Just be mopping the sopping, haha. Okay. So. First, there are some nice sexy tangas, you know, the knickers I normally wear, not special occasion bitches,” Lia joked, pointing me to the Papasan set back from the bed and out of camera shot as she slipped on something white’n’lacy, quite discrete, but also with a panel design that I realised was unexpectedly easy to see through.

Lia caught me looking and winked. “These are my ‘pay attention’ knickers, ‘cause if you pay attention you realise you can see my little bush all scrunched up,” she chuckled before she turned, and slipped them back off again, tossing them into what would become a small laundry pile.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about a quick show?”

“Nope. You got that first pair memorised?”

“White attention grabber crotch, got ‘em.”

Lia smiled, and next came a pair of coral coloured tangas, briefer but also less revealing, the crotch being more conservative in this pair. Again I got the front’n’back, and again I got to enjoy not only Lia’s small and perfect arse, but how even more incredible it looks when accentuated in some really nice knickers, drawing the eye and defining the lines. I’m not saying that her usual knickers are not nice themselves, but these were nice plus. Next came a couple more pairs in different colours, slightly differing interpretations of ‘tanga’, one with less coverage of her fanny and the other with less of her arse, but both still sensible enough that I could easily imagine her wearing them on the day-to-day as well as for special occasions. Or modelling.

“Everything so far memorised?” Lia asked as the last of the tangas hit the laundry pile.

“Indelibly.”

“Well just make sure you don’t go running out of that delibility of yours on me just yet, mister. Can I introduce you in a nice pair of French knickers, Monsieur Kinkster?”

“Oui,” I said as out of a little black bag came a pair of French knickers, green satin, slit at the sides of course, and with an elegant little lace trim. “Those are really nice.”

“Thanks, and also surprisingly practical. They would be really good under a tight skirt, you know, for those occasions when I have to wear knickers. Or winter, haha,” she said as she slipped them on, smoothed them into place, and posed for me.

“Incroyable!”

“Merci,” Lia grinned as she turned to face away from me, utilised all her yoga-given flexibility to bend at the waist, and eased them off, turning, sniffing the crotch, grinning again, and tossing them to me with a wink. “Pour Monsieur.”

“Très généreux!”

“Pervert!” Lia chuckled happily. “There’s a couple more of those, but there’s also these,” she said as she moved the little black bag aside and took out a pair of red tangas that were so slight that they were hardly tangas at all. Not that I was complaining.

“Another winning pair,” I said.

“Oh I’m not done winning yet, mister, these come with a matching bra,” she said as she pulled on what I realised was the first bra I’d seen Lia wear that wasn’t part of a bikini or her gym clothes.

“You know that’s a boudoir set on its own?” I said as vistas of shoots of Lia in lingerie opened up in my mind’s eye. Lots of bras, too.

“Think so?” Lia asked as she posed one way then the other, already trying to feel her way into how to pose comfortably in them.

I nodded. “The others I could maybe get a four or six shot set out of each, maybe combining several mini sets into a collected set. But that set? Easily make a set of a dozen photos on its own, especially if you mix in some topless poses.”

“You mean spicy like this?” Lia asked as she removed the bra, easing off the straps, letting one cup fall down, and pausing for several potential poses before she stood there, coy, topless, arms bent straight up and covering her nipples. Nothing to see and an utterly stunning sight.

“I do, but as a boudoir set with one of the tapestry backgrounds? Very elegant too.”

Lia beamed. “Thanks. I want to try wearing things I don’t normally, so if that set works? Bra’n’knickers sets incoming, baby. And to change things up, maybe with some knickers or maybe on their own, but I also got some stockings,” she said as she handed me a handful, still in their packets. “I’m not trying those on tonight - they take too long, some of them are a little fragile, and I really want to get boning very soon now - but imagine me wearing a set of those, nothing else? That should draw the viewer’s eye to my arse, haha.”

“Can’t imagine they’re not focused on your arse already, but I can see how stockings can lead the eye all right.”

Lia nodded. “Need to be careful with the poses, but maybe an ‘arse month’, haha? Now, for something more casual there’s this set,” she said as she pulled on a pair of French knickers and matching camisole, deep purple with beautifully designed flowers on it. “Imagine me taking this off as you shoot,” she said as she lifted up the camisole to show one tit, both, topless, off, a hit of bush, more bush, fully nude, and finally turned to one side, showing almost nothing, but an incredible coda nonetheless.

“Bloody hell, Lia. Shoot is the word all right,” I teased, though it wasn’t much of a tease. With the right posing and angles I had no doubt that there would be some spontaneous shooting going on.

Lia grinned. “And that is why you are not seeing the ensemble in that bag. I can tell you’re barely holding it in as it is, you really couldn’t cope with that bag, not without copious preparation and training first.”

I chuckled. “If what’s in that bag is taking what you’ve already shown me to the next level, where do I sign up for the training and when does it begin?”

“Tonight, inside my fanny in, oh, ten minutes,” Lia grinned. “Now, last thing to show off are these,” she said as she reached under the bed frame, pulling out several boxes which had been hidden behind the drape of the bedclothes, including an old banana box for some reason.

“Footwear?” I asked, uncertain quite how bananas figured into that.

“Give the man a prize. Oh wait. That’s right. He’s going to get one in a couple of minutes, but first, footwear fetishist heaven,” Lia grinned as she lifted the lid on the first box, tilting it up to show me a pair of ankle-breaker heels, then doing the same with a second box.

“Lia they look tall, not just for you but for anyone. Do I need insurance to cover the risk for you in those?” I asked, realising as I asked that this was actually a serious issue I’d never really thought about.

“No ... actually yes. Maybe not now or at least not right away, but if you start getting people in to model, you’ll need to insure. Wow. Forgot about that.”

“So when I photograph for you in your studio?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I insured?”

Lia grinned. “Oh probably. If I renewed. Did I renew? Probably. You’re, er, you’re immune to being electrocuted by studio lights aren’t you?”

“I hope so...”

“That’s the spirit. Pip pip and all that, haha. Okay. I’m sure you’ve guessed, if those were shoe boxes then this has to be boots, not shoes,” Lia said as she lifted the lid on the most incredible pair of boots I had ever seen. “I got really lucky in these. I just saw them in the window of a charity shop, went in, asked if I could try them, they fit, and here they are in all their glory. Woman in there looked a little shocked but also a little excited as she told me they’re called ‘bondage boots’, and they’ve someone who brings in a new pair like these every couple of months. I donated on the spot and now I get first call as soon as any more come in. I’ve cleaned them up a bit and polished the straps up to a nice shine, but are these fucking awesome or what?” she asked as she lifted them out and held them up for me to see. Made of black’n’red leather, they were fastened with buckles that went all the way from ankle to the top.

“Very impressive.”

“Wait till you see me in them,” Lia grinned as she sat on the edge of the bed and eased herself into them in what looked for all the world more like assembling than wearing them. Finally they were on, and Lia stood, grinning, clearly a little excited if her tight nipples were anything to go by, nude except for her thigh-high kinky boots. “So. What do you think?”

“Bloody hell!” I answered, my throat a little dry, my cock informing me that I may not have a ‘thing’ for shoes or even heels, but Lia in thigh boots was a whole other thing.

“I know!” Lia grinned. “Pervert’s wet dream for days, haha. So you’re okay with your boudoir sometimes getting a little kinky?” she asked as she walked around a little, getting used to the sensation of almost toppling I guess, those heels being at least 3 inches high though if she had told me 5 I would have believed her. I know heels may be bad for the day-to-day and there may be a whole world of politics wrapped up in them, but seeing Lia’s arse made even more pert and her legs seemingly made longer? Hell of an advertisement for heels, in the boudoir at least.

“Not sure what ‘kinky’ means when you’re already doing boudoir shoots, but if it’s a little more than simply nudes of you I’ve no objections.”

Lia chuckled. “And me in boots like these?”

“No objection at all,” I answered, Lia laughing as I suggested. “So maybe try a one-off $3 poster of you in those and see how it goes?”

Lia nodded. “Makes sense but I hope they do take off, even becoming their own theme.”

“Oh?” I asked, curious about her enthusiasm.

Lia grinned. “Yep ‘cause when I put these on I need you to bone me like a ‘boudoir babe’?”

“A ‘boudoir’ babe?” I asked, wondering at the difference.

“Yep. That’s where you bone me and I keep the boots on.”

“And I’m the kinky one?” I teased, Lia taking my hand and leading me to her room and her bed. Somehow boning on the ‘bear bed’ never felt like an option. Boudoirs and chaises? Much different.

“Kinky? Oh you’re absolutely the kinky one,” Lia said, grinning as she watched me strip. “French knickers? Pouring honey no my nips and hundreds-and-thousands over my tummy? And now about to bone me while I’m wearing kinky boots? Oh you’re my quiet little pervert all right,” she grinned as she got onto her bed, waited for me to join her, and pushed me onto my back as she carefully straddled me, making sure none of the buckles were going to catch on my legs once things got busy.

“And you’re really keeping the boots on?” I asked.

“Hell yeah!” Lia chuckled as she reached between her legs, pulled back my foreskin, getting me into position as she lowered herself onto my cock, her vagina just as wet as she’d been claiming, her eyes closed as they often were when we started, as though she was concentrating on every little sensation. I know I was.

“Need a hand?” I asked as I reached up, cupping her tits as she leant forward, tweaking her nipples as she put her hands on my chest and began moving her hips.

“God I love a considerate lover,” she smiled as she opened her eyes. “Now, be brave, but you’re not gonna be done until I’ve a tummy full of cum in me, and if that means I’ve got to ride you all night, I will you know.”

“A tummy full? That might take more than one orgasm,” I cautioned.

Lia grinned. “That’s my plan...” she said, pausing a moment to kiss me ... and then it was off to the races!

“You’re sure you’ve not been seeing someone else?” Lia asked as she sat on my lap, smiling, her blouse open, my hand inside having its own fun, and every other word was a kiss. With all that taken into account I knew she wasn’t being serious, and I knew she knew I wasn’t and I wouldn’t, but even so, I still felt my heart catch.

“No,” I answered as I tried to guess where her quicksilver mind had taken her.

“OnlyFans?” Lia prompted.

“You mean me still subbing to others?” I asked, abruptly worried she might feel jealous about my other subs.

“Nope, but let me know who you’re subbed to and I can take a look as you explain why. Don’t worry, it’s not one of those dumb ‘trust tests’ or anything like that, I’m just interested in what you’re into that’s not me, haha. No, I mean your OnlyFans.”

“My OnlyFans? It’s not working?” I asked, wondering what might have happened as everything had seemed fine at lunchtime when I’d checked my dashboard to see what the numbers were like. Good and steadily growing. Also, working.

“No, that’s not it either, mister. What I mean is, how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Change it so it doesn’t look like all the other OnlyFans pages.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah. So. Who’ve you been seeing to teach you these dark arts?”

I smiled. “Goo Gul and Yu Toob,” I said, trying to make them sound as much like names as possible.

Lia nodded. “Oh those two. What do they do that I don’t... oh God! It’s bush, isn’t it. Bushes. They’ve got lustrously bushy little bushes? Please tell me I’m wrong, I, I just couldn’t take it if you wanted another woman’s bushier bush over my wispy quim cozy,” she teased, mostly making it to the end of her question without laughing.

I smiled. “Lia, you have the cosiest little cozy there is.”

Lia nodded slowly. “So you do like bush?”

“I do.”

“You like bushy bushes?”

“I prefer bushy over curly, yes, but I like your bush the most. Why? Because it’s your bush.”

Lia beamed. “Correct. So. You going to teach me everything you know about customising my OnlyFans page thanks to all the hacks you’ve got from this not so nicely bushed couple of women you’ve been seeing?”

“Of course.”

“Correct again. Man’s on a roll,” Lia grinned as her blouse came off and her tongue took possession of my tonsils. “Okay. So, you can tell me all about your templates’n’shit later, but right now? Right now you’ve got to hurry,” she said as she stood up, pausing briefly to pick up her blouse.

“Hurry? For?”

“I’m going upstairs, I’m getting into bed, and if you’re not there I will start without you,” Lia grinned as she slipped off her jeans, underneath which she had been wearing a pair of lacy white tangas that made her arse look even more special that it already was. One of her shoot pairs? Maybe. “Coming?”

“Damn right I will be,” I joked as I chased up the stairs after her, her knickers hitting the bedroom floor just in time for me to sweep her into bed, my cock inside her fanny and getting up to speed even as she was laughing at how my cock had the gift of ‘second sight’ and had found its way into her without help from anyone.

“Now, bone me like you mean it,” Lia commanded.

“I always do,” I said as I found the perfect angle and picked up the pace.

“I know,” she said, her tone soft, her voice full of love as we looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, both of us feeling ‘it’ as it floated between us, bound us, completed us.

And then Lia broke the spell, grinning, as she said, “Okay, enough with the luvy-duvy, let’s fuuuck!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I teased, both of us still chuckling as we did just that.

“Jim? Can I talk with you a minute please?” Genowefa asked, Genowefa being one of the managers at the gym Lia and I went to.

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked. It was a Thursday evening, Lia had got into a last minute class, so I had some time to kill as I sat in Reception drinking something isotonic as the screens showed film of fit people getting fitter.

“I understand you are a photographer?” she asked.

“Well I take photos but I don’t think that makes me a ‘photographer’,” I joked, under no illusions as to how much I still had to learn.

“No? The way Lia tells it you are. She’s quietly proud of you, you know,” Genowefa smiled, her smile always a little cock-eyed because of a slight squint to her left eye that gave her with a permanently slightly amused expression. It helped deflect from the fact of her physical perfection. A little taller than Lia, Genowefa had dark curly hair cut shoulder length, dark brown eyes, and most noticeably of all a very well toned musculature, as evidenced by the corporate shorts and exercise bra that was her uniform. Abs? It was rumoured she did 1,000 sit-ups every morning. I thought that might be an underestimate; she had abs you could grate cheese on.

I smiled. “Then Lia’s being very generous,” I said, wondering where this was leading.

“She’s also quite the model herself.”

“Ah,” I said, not wanting to say anything more, wondering if this was a ‘tell’ rather than a ‘show’ kind of thing.

“Well I had to check your work out, didn’t I,” Genowefa smiled as I now wondered how far her researches had taken her. My work, not Lia’s? “Teddy bears? They were an interesting choice I wasn’t really expecting.”

“They are kind of her ‘thing’.”

“Her ISP, I know, but then there are your shots of her.”

“Ah.”

“Relax, Jim, nothing I’ve not seen before. I like how she makes being nude seem cute somehow.”

“It’s ... it’s something that comes naturally to her, just part of Lia being Lia,” I said, now really curious why Lia had been pimping me up to her.

More smiles. “In fact after seeing your photos, I think you might be just the photographer me and some friends of mine are looking for.”

“Oh? Teddy bear collectors?” I asked, a hopeful shot in the dark rather to counter my sinking suspicions of where ‘photographer’ plus ‘nude’ plus ‘friends’ might more obviously lead.

Genowefa chuckled. “Actually I don’t know if any of them are, I know I’m not, but no, we’re looking for someone to help us with some photos for a charity calendar, you know the ones, where everyone is nude and you can’t see a thing?”

“Like the Calendar Girls?”

“We’re not that old,” Genowefa laughed. “Although I suppose Cynthia might be, but the rest of us, not so much. No, me and some friends are hoping to find a photographer who would be interested in taking shots of a dozen of my body-builder and fitness pals, all nude but also all ‘hiding their modesty’ for one of those charity calendars.”

“Well that’s not the kind of question a man gets asked every day,” I chuckled. “What’s the charity?”

“We’re just trying to get some funds for Clary, a friend of mine. She holds fitness classes out of the church hall where she lives, Tuesdays and Thursdays and alternate Sundays, free to all the local kids. She wants to get in some kit, mostly just mats, but that’s a lot of money for a free thing. So we were talking how to help, someone suggested a calendar, someone else suggested a comedy nude calendar, and, well, here we are. So, do you think this is the kind of thing you could help us out with?”

“I suppose I might though it’s nothing like what I do with Lia, but why me? I’m sure you could find plenty of professional photographers who could do this.”

Genowefa nodded. “Can. Have. And all refused. Too busy or simply not willing to work for free, even for a byline on a charity calendar.”

“I see, but there’s something I’m still not clear on. How did Lia find out about this?” I asked. “She’s never mentioned being in any group or club or anything here like that.”

“She’s not as far as I know, classes only. No, I put a sign up in the Ladies Changing Rooms outlining what we are looking for,” Genowefa explained. “The sign went up Monday, Lia told me about you on Tuesday ... and here we now are. So? Can you help us out?”

“Genowefa, I’m honestly not sure I’m the man you’re looking for.”

“No? Why not?” she asked, clearly worried I wasn’t going to work out after all. I wasn’t offended they had stumbled upon me after everyone else had said ‘no’ because of workload or work-for-free, but I didn’t want to leap in to help unless I was sure I could.

“Because up until now I’ve only photographed Lia, so photographing anyone else would be a step up for me, but to photograph a dozen other women? I’m not sure I’m that confident, and even if I were there are a lot of things I would need to figure out before I would be confident enough to say ‘yes’.”