Chapter 24: Mephistopheles

“I know it was probably a surprise to you. I mean we’ve never done it—I mean like had sex, unless you count getting me off on my birthday and ... um ... once on the bus. Which you could do again sometime, you know,” Pris said. “But, you see, from the moment Deb and I walked into that little fourth floor studio and took our first pose, we became Nate’s girls. We were part of this elite group of girls who signed model releases and took off our clothes for Nate to take pictures of. And we were so proud to be part of that group. This group. The Attic Allure models who weren’t there for senior pictures or to get our own Attic Allure portrait, but were there for Nate to direct and make into whatever his vision was that day.”

All my crew, including my girlfriends, were standing naked in front of me in the living room of our suite. I saw Elise standing in the doorway of her bedroom just watching the drama. I had thought I’d get to the suite and flop in front of the TV for a while. The TV was there, but it was behind the ten girls. Pris had been the one to reprimand our hosts at dinner and, I guess, felt it was necessary for me to hear her explain.

“It happened to all of us,” Judy said. “Janice and me, too. You were an extension to our costume play. We’d come to you and you’d take pictures of whatever our newest creation was, and then you’d talk us out of our clothes and we’d be running around naked, letting you take our pictures, and encouraging you to touch us. We were Nate’s girls, even after we started dating Pete. He even referred to us once as Nate’s girls.”

“The only boy who’d ever seen me naked was Tony,” Patricia continued the story. “We played at having me become a Playboy bunny. I came to your garage and tried on the role of being a bunny and posing for you. I let you take pictures that we never showed Tony. But even so, he gradually started referring to me as Nate’s model. He always wanted more pictures of Nate’s model. And I became one of Nate’s girls, even when I was married to Tony.”

“I chose to become one of Nate’s girls before I ever met you,” Beth said. “I guess I took it a step further and declared myself to be your Chicago girlfriend, without ever knowing what that would involve. But I was Nate’s girl.”

“You managed to get all of us in your study group except Leslie to model for you,” Leanne said. “And I think she still wants to when we get back. I think even Dora Devine would consider herself one of Nate’s girls. And I know that Theresa and Cassie join me in absolutely declaring that we are Nate’s girls.”

“We all just want you to know, honey,” Anna said as she approached me with Ronda and they sat on either arm of my chair, “that being with you makes us something special, whether we are models or girlfriends or staff and crew.”

“We are Nate’s girls, lover,” Ronda said. “And we know you are watching out for us.”

All Nate’s girls wanted a few minutes sitting on Nate’s lap that night. And they all wanted me as naked as they were, just so we could be close. I was amazed that these wonderful young women felt so attached to me. And they were right. I was watching out for each of them.

Tuesday was a very special day. It was Toni’s first birthday. She and Elise came to the studio with us and we made a big thing out of having a birthday party for her on the stage as I photographed her and her mother.

Patricia took the Nikon from me and I danced Toni all around the stage as her mother took pictures of us. Of course, there were more presents than we could bring to the studio, so the party continued when we got back to the hotel. By eight o’clock, our exhausted birthday girl was sound asleep in her bed, but the rest of us continued to party.

My personal party goal was to take Patricia to bed and make love to her until she passed out from the number of orgasms she had. It was Toni’s birthday, but Patricia had done all the work of bringing her into this world.

The highlight of the week’s photo sittings came on Thursday as the result of one of our models canceling. She was very apologetic, but was truly sick. That left us with Gloria. She was enthusiastic about everything we were doing and willing to bend into any pose I pushed her to. She did a little pushing of her own into my hands when we shifted her around.

“Do you have any idea how many guys want to paw our breasts when we do a show? It’s like, if we show them, they should touch them. It’s sickening. So, I’m just letting go and saying, sure, touch ‘em. It’s not like I don’t enjoy being caressed. And what Marli told us about her session made it sound irresistible.”

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” I said.

“Are you kidding? I’m hoping you’ll get me so turned on doing this that I come. Touch me some more,” Gloria said.

“Would you like to extend your session into the afternoon? I’d like to do a location shoot with you,” I suggested.

“Is the location your bed?”

“No. Nowhere near as comfortable. I’ll see if I can fulfill part of your fantasy, but we won’t fuck.”

“There’s a lot of things that can be done short of fucking. I’ll stay for the day.”

“Good. Let’s get into makeup. Leanne has a cool concept and it will take a good hour to get ready. I’ll make sure we have lunch available and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

I had Chrystal get us lunch and get our bus ready to pick us up. We got everything packed up and ready to roll. And in the dressing room, Leanne had me help turn Gloria into a Tiger. She had a thick mane of auburn hair which just worked perfectly with the body paint. Leanne laid in the outline for the stripes and I filled them in, making sure that Gloria knew I was very into holding her while we painted.

We boarded the bus and ate our lunch, then Leanne finished the face makeup. An hour later, we were at the petroglyphs out at Valley of Fire.

“Gloria, wait here in the bus where it’s cool until we get everything set up out there. I’ll come to you and carry you to where we want to pose. You are going to be a wild tiger-woman. Believe me, everyone is going to see what a gorgeous woman you are. But they’ll see a fierceness in you that they’ve never seen before.”

“Kiss me before you go, please?”

“Just a little. I don’t want to smear your makeup.”

The kiss was more reassurance and maybe a bit of promise as we headed into the rocks with tripods, cameras, reflectors, and a broom. The girls had been busy in the bus and stripped out of their tops to apply sun lotion to each other. All they were wearing were bikini bottoms or panties and their shoes.

We found a good-looking place where I could get a good angle. Then the girls swept the rock where Gloria would be standing so there was nothing that would hurt her feet. We tested the temperature of the rock and decided that before I set Gloria down on it, we’d douse it with some of our water to cool it a little.

I went back to the bus and picked Gloria up to carry her to the new stage.

“Wow! It’s hot out here.”

“Yes. We’ll work as quickly as we can so no one gets burned or heat stroke. And then I’m going to pick you up and carry you back to the bus. You know what’s special about that?” I asked.

“What?”

“We’ll be done with your makeup, so I can kiss you and suck on your little nipples and pet your pussy without worrying about smearing the makeup.”

“Let’s hurry,” she said, kissing my cheek.

We got to the rock and the girls dumped several glasses of water from our thermoses on it. I set Gloria’s feet in the water and she danced around a little.

“Still a little hot, but it’s cooling off. I’ll be okay as long as there is water here.”

Debbie handed her a spear, so she really did look like a wild tiger-woman, ready for the hunt or to defend her den. We started taking pictures. We worked as quickly as possible, shifting the pose and getting pictures on both the Linhof and the Hasselblad.

“Rocks are getting hot,” Gloria said.

“That’s a wrap,” I called.

The girls grabbed all the equipment and props and ran for the bus. I picked up Gloria and Anna steadied me as I climbed down from the rocks. I saw the writing team off to one side where they’d been watching us. Dave was holding an umbrella over Bert as Bert scrawled notes on his clipboard. They were hurrying to their car as quickly as they could get there. Gene already had it running and cooling, just as our driver had the bus cool.

I was waved to the back of the bus, which was remarkably empty. I slid into the seat with Gloria on my lap.

“You were wonderful!” I said. “The world has never seen such a sexy tiger.”

“I could eat you up,” she responded as she attacked my mouth. “I could feel where every shot was going and you kept subtly stroking up between my legs when you posed me.”

“I wanted to be sure you were enjoying yourself as much as possible in this heat.”

“Enjoy myself some more. Yes! You do know your way around a girl’s happy spots. More. Yes. Suck the paint off my nipples. Oh God, yes!”

I sucked and finger fucked Gloria most of the way back to the studio. That last fifteen minutes, though, she spent with my dick in her mouth, sucking the essence out of me. Talk about having a tiger by the tail. Which was where my hand was while I was coming in her mouth.

“Is this for real?” Beth asked Chrystal on Saturday morning. It was unusual for Chrystal to show up so early on a Saturday. Usually, she was only around if we were going on a tour someplace or for an evening out. We always had access to the bus if we gave the driver notice, but we never saw Chrystal on Sundays at all.

“The invitation came from their producer to our producer and he put it in my hand to deliver to you,” Chrystal said.

“Can everyone come?”

“They said they would have a backstage space reserved for everyone since you are all under twenty-one and can’t sit in the casino lounge,” Chrystal said. “We’ll be escorted backstage.”

“Well, fuck!”

She shoved the invitation into my hands so I could figure out what the hell she was talking about. It was an invitation to appear as one of six comedians to warm up an audience before the headliner. And it was a contest of sorts. There would be a winner, though it didn’t say what the winner would get. Sounded just like the gig in Chicago.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got material.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never tried it in front of a live audience.”

“We heard part of it in the studio and part of it at the pool,” I said. “If you don’t have enough, fill in from your first show. No one here has heard that.”

“Enough. Yeah, I’ve got enough,” she said. “Oh, my God! Judy! I need a leotard and tights and a tutu. And a hat. Leanne, can you do my makeup? I’m going on stage tonight!”

It was good that Starr didn’t have any more time to get nervous. Once she went into her comic character, she was Starr, not Elizabeth. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone before her show in Chicago, or even to eat. I joined Starr, Judy, Leanne, and Anna to go to the studio and get ready.

Of course, I wasn’t needed there other than to occasionally pop in and give our performer a hug. Judy found a leotard that fit her and went to work sewing a tutu. Leanne washed and set her hair, then began applying makeup.

Anna and I were in the darkroom, working on the image of our tiger-woman from the day before. We were definitely getting something good. I suddenly heard Beth screaming.

“Wait! Wait! I need Nate!”

I left the print drying in Anna’s hands and rushed out the door to Beth. She threw herself into my arms.

“You’re the only one who can do it right!” she said.

“Do what, honey?”

“My eye. I need my eye makeup. You know how to do it. Nobody else knows.”

Beth was obviously grasping for something to get me involved. I knew that she’d done her own eye makeup for the Chicago shows. She’d come to her last birthday photo shoot with the makeup already applied. Leanne could have easily applied the couple of brush strokes it took to put the little triangle under her left eye.

I kissed her and took the makeup brush from Leanne.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m here and I know exactly where the eye makeup goes. I’ll have you looking perfect in no time.” I just kept talking to her and turning her face left and right. I applied the makeup in tiny strokes and then outlined her lips so they were just highlighted enough to give them extra zing.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I knew you’d get it right. It’s perfect now.”

I shook my head and she looked at me questioningly.

“One more thing. You can’t do your show like this.” I pulled the sleeves of her leotard down until I’d gotten the top down below her breasts. I knew Beth wouldn’t wear a bra under this outfit. If they lit her right the audience would see her nipples outlined beneath the top. I kissed a nipple and picked up the lipstick. “I knew you’d forget this part,” I sighed. I began rouging her nipples and rubbing the lipstick into them with my thumbs. I really didn’t use much. It was more symbolic than for any artistic purpose.

“Oh, yes,” she panted. “And after my show, you’ll have to suck that off my little titties.”

Her titties weren’t really that little, but I let the comment go. I squeezed her boobs and pulled up the top, making sure she was securely tucked in.

“I am going to make sure every bit of that makeup is removed with my tongue,” I said. She smiled at me.

“Time to head for the show lounge,” Chrystal called from the studio. “Everyone is outside on the bus.”

Starr put her ballet slippers on. She was no longer Beth. She checked her tutu in the mirror and nodded.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

Hi! Hi! I’m Starr. Oh, stop! You’re too nice. It’s the tutu, isn’t it.

The first thing you think when you see a girl in a tutu is ‘Does she have anything on under that?’ Mmmaybe.

Girls all go through a period in life when they want to be a ballerina. Little one-year-old me who could only barely walk would stand with my hand on Grandma’s knee and wiggle my shoulders and torso in a dance. It’s approximately the same way I dance today. At three, I was spinning in my dances until I fell over and couldn’t stand up. Sometimes I still dance like that, too.

Then I went to school and everything got serious. You couldn’t be a dancer unless you took dance lessons.

I hated dance lessons. They took all the fun out of dancing. They wanted us to do all kinds of ridiculous moves and stand in stupid positions. I hated it. But I loved my tutu! To me, what I needed to be a dancer was not to plié, but to wear a tutu. I quit dance lessons. I kept the tutu.

Of course, after first grade, kids look at you funny if you wear a tutu to school. So, I kept it in my room. After school ... after kids had made fun of me all day ... after I had failed my spelling test ... after I spilled juice on my dress ... I got home to my room and took off all my clothes and put on my tutu. Now you’re really wondering what’s under this.

It is psychologically impossible to be unhappy when you’re wearing a tutu!

Women, unite! Get out those tutus. Are you going to ride a bicycle? Ride it in a tutu! Going grocery shopping? Push that cart in a tutu! Dropping your twelve-year-old at school? Drive in a tutu! Gynecologist appointment? You actually don’t need to wear anything under it!

You know what’s really crazy? Legally, I could dance around on this stage and take off all my clothes—except the tutu, of course—and collect all the money you can throw this far. A girl only has to be eighteen to be a stripper. I’ve got that beat.

But I can’t legally step off this stage, because where you’re sitting is in the lounge and it’s twenty-one and older only. I ask you if that’s fair. If I could perform naked on stage, shouldn’t I be able to buy a drink? Or place a bet? Heck, I could get married in the chapel next door and still not be old enough to come in here and watch me take off my clothes.

Which, by the way, I’m not going to do. I’m a comedienne and no one would laugh at my body.

My boyfriend faces the same dilemma. He has to stay backstage instead of sitting out there in front with the rest of you because we are only nineteen. What’s worse is that he could be drafted, sent to Vietnam, and killed in the war without ever having had a legal drink. Or a vote! Of course, unlike you, he can watch me do this routine in nothing but my tutu. And he looks pretty cute in my tutu.

The law. You know, it’s weird. Lots of things are backward. In general, the supreme court is a hundred years behind the times. It was only two years ago, on June 12, that they got around to saying, “the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides with the individual, and cannot be infringed by the State.”

Well, thank you very much for giving me control over who I marry. Only three years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and two years after the Voting Rights Act of 1965. What we need now is a law that changes the legal voting age to eighteen—along with other fundamental rights like walking into this lounge for adult entertainment, a drink, and to place a bet.

But where was I. Not on a political campaign. You didn’t come here to listen to that crap. You’re still trying to understand exactly what my tits are saying.

What I was trying to say is that the supreme court says that married women have the right to contraceptives. As usual when they’re dealing with new issues, they got this one backwards. It’s not married women who need birth control! It’s unmarried women! Me, for instance. My understanding of the ruling—and you should know, I’m a theatre major, not a law major—but the way I read that ruling is that the Supreme Court believes it’s better for single women to be pregnant than married women.

This is 1969. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, baby! Turn on, tune in, and drop out! We can get everything except the drugs that make sex and rock and roll not result in a baby. Do you really think that at nineteen, living on my own, with a boyfriend who loves me, that I am not going to have sex? With this body? You’ve got to be kidding.

But I’m so afraid of getting pregnant! I had to come up with my own solution. I sewed latex over my vagina. And I still make my boyfriend wear a rubber. If the kid can get out of that combination, we’ll name him after Harry Houdini.

Really, I’m such a drug lightweight that I could probably get along on half a pill. What’s the worst that could happen. I get half pregnant?