Chapter 1

"You better take your dress off now, dearie," said Mrs. Porter in the sweet-little-old-lady voice which had been irritating Ann Larkin for at least six months. "We don't want to get make-up on its do we?" Having just finished braiding Ann's long brown hair, the make-up lady was now impatient to get the rest of the job done so she could go back to reading her movie magazine.

The full-figured young model disliked getting undressed until it was absolutely necessary because there was nothing private about her dressing room. At the moment, she and Mrs. Porter were alone, but any instant now a cameraman or set designer or one of the company's executives would take it into his head to come barging in, and none of these people had ever heard of knocking. Ann knew perfectly well that they did it on purpose, knowing that she was shy and hoping to catch her off-guard, but there was little she could do about it and complaining only made her feel ridiculous.

But she turned her back on Mrs. Porter to allow her to unzip the back of her dress and slide it down off her shoulders, revealing a lush full body with smoothly rounded curves and soft, well-tanned skin.

"What are we supposed to be doing today?" Ann asked, without much curiosity. The Wonder-Wear Corporation produced ladies lingerie, panties, brassieres, slips and corsets and Ann had modeled almost everything in the six months she had worked in the advertising department.

"You and Jenifer are modeling the new Pink Cloud bra-and- panty combination," Mrs. Porter announced proudly. "Haven't you seen the studio?"

"No," replied the curvaceous young model as the make-up lady ran a powder puff across her face and then stepped back to survey the effect. "What's there to see?"

"They've got a great big pink cloud made out of Styrofoam and you and Jenifer sit on top of it wearing Wonder-Wear Pink Cloud underwear!" Mrs. Porter informed her with some enthusiasm, taking a box off a nearby chair. "Here it is! Do you like it?"

Ann studied the bra and panty combination unhappily. The two garments together did not contain enough cloth for one decent- sized handkerchief and she hated to let the camera crew see her in this skimpy outfit. Plus she never knew when her church-going husband was going to thumb through a magazine and see her half- naked and staring up at him from the page. Frank hated the idea of her modeling as it was and if he knew that she was going to be photographed with so much of her voluptuous body exposed, he would have a fit!

"Heavens!" she stammered uneasily, holding the panties up to the light. "It's like being naked. These panties are worse than nothing!"

"That's the whole idea, dearie," Mrs. Porter lectured her pompously. "You young girls are supposed to like running around with everything hanging out these days. When I was young, things were a little different, but times have changed. Better get into them, dearie. They could be calling for you any minute now."

Despite Mrs. Porter's instant analysis of modern womanhood, Ann Larkin did not enjoy "running around with everything hanging out." She had received a very stern religious upbringing from her parents (who would roll over in their respective graves if they knew she was working as an underwear model). And Frank Larkin, whom she had married during his last year of medical school, was a very serious and moral young man who believed that a doctor and his wife ought to set an example of proper behavior for the community. But Frank's earnings as an intern were not nearly enough to pay for their tiny apartment and put food on the table, so when Wonder-Wear had advertised for models, Ann had been forced to put her moral standards temporarily on the shelf.

Frank had not been at all happy about her decision, but they were deeply in debt and modeling paid much better than any other job she could possibly have found.

But if he ever saw her in an outfit like this, there would be hell to pay! And if she was not dressed and ready to go when the graphics director called for her, there would also be hell to pay, so she slipped out of her ordinary panties and brassiere and slipping the others on, her softly curling pubic hair and the nipples of her breasts plainly visible, started to climb onto the styro-foam Pink Cloud.

"You know--pardon me for saying this, dearie--but you're in the wrong kind of modeling," commented Mrs. Porter suddenly.

"What do you mean?" inquired the girl, pulling the flimsy see-through panties as far as they would go up over her smoothly rounded buttocks.

"You're never going to make it to the top as a fashion model, because you got too much bosom. Now Jenifer's got a chance. although she's really a little big herself, but with you, it's impossible. Oh, you can make brassiere ads until you're thirty or so, but the day your breasts start to sag, you're finished. And you'll never make much more money than you're making right now, 'cause that's all they pay lingerie models. You ought to get into glamour modeling, dearie. With your face and that body, you'd be rich in a couple of years."

"Glamour modeling?" responded the well-formed young woman uncertainly.

"Oh, come on, you're not that innocent, dearie," retorted Mrs. Porter. "I mean posing for one of those men's magazines. A lot of the girls here do it just for extra money, but you could make a career of it! In fact, your friend Jenifer--I shouldn't tell you this--but, she posed last week for a photographer who works for a nudie magazine and you'd never believe how much money he gave her! I know because I went along to handle the make-up and the costumes, although I certainly didn't have too much to do as far as costumes were concerned." The old woman paused, apparently remembering that Jenifer occupied an adjoining dressing room, and whispered. "She was naked, dearie! Naked as the day she was born!"

Ann Larkin eased the brassiere over her large, widely-spaced breasts and faced herself in the mirror. She could never force herself to pose in the nude for one of those filthy magazines, no matter how poor she and Frank became, but Mrs. Porter was right about her being too big-breasted to do fashion work. She had applied for jobs with several fashion houses before coming to Wonder-Wear and had been told precisely the same thing any number of times. When a designer hired a girl to model his latest creation, he wanted all eyes on the dress and not on what was underneath it.

It was true that she could probably go on making underwear ads as long as she needed the money although the company always had to supply her with the largest bra size they had. Her voluptuously formed breasts were high-set and firm and when she was photographed wearing a bra, it inevitably looked as if her tantalizingly full cleavage was somehow the result of superb brassiere engineering and not the work of Mother Nature. This made the advertising department very happy and thousands of hopeful, small-breasted girls rush out eagerly to buy Wonder-Wear brassieres, under the mistaken impression that they would somehow end up looking like Ann.

"Why doesn't your husband ever stop around to see us?" wondered Mrs. Porter aloud, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Oh, he's terribly busy at the hospital," lied Ann casually. "You know how hard they make interns work."

Frank was busy, it was true, but he refrained from visiting his wife at work because he was embarrassed and ashamed by the whole idea of what she was forced to do to keep them from starvation. And if he ever saw me in this outfit, Ann told herself unhappily, examining her reflection in the mirror, he would divorce me on the spot.

The soft flimsy material covered very little of her exciting body and concealed even less from the viewer's eye, and Ann dreaded the thought of being seen by anyone in this semi-naked condition with her pubic hair and nipples showing. Really, she might just as well pose in the nude for all the good this outfit did!

Unlike most big-breasted women, Ann was actually slender and lithe in the hips and buttocks. The Pink Cloud panties were really nothing more than two tiny patches of filmy insubstantial material, one covering her delicate pubic mound and the other inadequately stretched across the deep crevice between the tantalizing half-moons of her ass-cheeks.

Above her flat firm stomach, the Pink Cloud brassiere was even less successful in protecting Ann's girlish modesty. The bra had been designed to provide only uplift for those who needed it, nothing more, and the frail flimsy cloth barely covered her large protuberant brown nipples which were clearly visible through the material for anyone who cared to look.

She was virtually naked and she shivered with embarrassment!

"Meant to be worn under a low-cut dress, naturally," commented Mrs. Porter, looking over her shoulder at the lush young model's sensually reflected image in the full-length mirror.

"Jenifer!" came a demanding voice from the hallway. "Are you ready?"

"You bet your sweet ass I'm ready!" responded Jenifer's saucy voice from the adjoining dressing room. Jenifer and Ann frequently worked together during modeling sessions, because the two women complemented each other nicely. Jenifer was tall and willowy with the traditional model's face and figure. Ann Larkin was shorter and blessed with a fuller, more sensual body. Jenifer was blonde with elegant aristocratic features; Ann had an open friendly smile and long brown hair. The Virgin Queen and the Earth-Mother, the technicians called them.

"Ann, how about you?" It was the graphics director, Mr. Pauling, the man in charge of executing the designs and ideas of the art department.

"I'm ready, Mr. Pauling," Ann responded nervously, slipping into a bathrobe for the trip down to the set and stepping out into the hall just as Jenifer emerged from her dressing room. The tall blonde girl, wearing only the Pink Cloud creation, shot a friendly glance at Ann and the two of them followed Mr. Pauling down to the studio where cameras and bright lights awaited them.

"How are you, baby?" asked Jenifer with genuine friendliness, squeezing Ann's arm. "You got your Pink Cloud undies on? Where'd they ever get a stupid name like that, Pauling?"

The graphics director merely growled at this bit of irreverence and the two friends giggled at each other. Despite the fact that Jenifer looked pure and refined, her personality was quite the opposite. Ann never dared set foot outside her dressing room unless she was shrouded from ankle to neck in a bathrobe, while Jenifer habitually walked down to the studio wearing whatever she was supposed to be modeling that day, ignoring lecherous glances from the people she encountered in the hall.

In a way, Ann envied the complete freedom which her friend possessed. Jenifer was ultra-sophisticated and always ready with a snappy remark and a quick laugh. The lewd teasing and dirty remarks from the technicians and cameramen did not disturb her in the slightest. She was proud and happy with her body and if other people wanted to look at it and enjoy her, that was fine too. Ann Larkin found this point of view both shocking and attractive at the same time, wishing that she could relax while she was posing and enjoy herself the way Jenifer did.

But somehow she always felt her husband's eyes upon her, criticizing and accusing her for allowing herself to be photographed while less than fully dressed.

"Oh, by the way, you two," remarked Pauling as they were about to enter the studio, "I got a call from Mr. Birindelli's office. I don't know what it's all about, but he wants to see the two of you today after we're finished with this commercial. So don't forget and rush out, because Mr. Birindelli does not like people who miss appointments."

"Who is Mr. Birindelli?" asked Ann innocently, wrapping her dressing gown around her more tightly.

"One of the big shots," offered Jenifer uncertainly, but Mr. Pauling glared at her with irritation.

"For your information," he informed them officiously, "Mr. Birindelli is the vice-president for sales and promotion and is responsible for everything that happens to our products after they leave the factory, including advertising, which makes him our boss. I would suggest being very, very nice to him."

"Oh, wait a minute," burst out Jenifer in her usual irrepressible manner. "Isn't he the guy everybody says belongs to the Mafia? One of the cameramen told me..."

"If I were you, Jenifer," interrupted Mr. Pauling between clenched teeth. "I would keep speculations of that kind to myself. People who offend Mr. Birindelli have been known to suffer tragic accidents of one kind or another. If the vice- president is not smiling when he comes out of your dressing room, Jenifer, consider yourself fired. It'll be the kindest thing I could do for you."

"Oh, he'll smile all right," grinned the blonde-haired girl mischievously. "I shall meet him wearing my Pink Cloud undies, before which strong men tremble!"

"That's exactly how I think you ought to meet him," commented Mr. Pauling levelly. "I don't know what he wants with you two bird-brains, but Birindelli has a reputation for liking the ladies and if you can manage to make him like you, all the better. When he comes into your dressing room, it wouldn't be a bad idea if you were accidentally not quite finished dressing. Show him a little flesh."

Ann listened to this exchange in silence. She had no idea what this Mr. Birindelli wanted and she did not really want to find out. Plus, she did not like the idea of receiving vice- presidents in her underwear.

But at the moment, they had a shooting session to get through and she could worry about Mr. Birindelli when the time came. As they entered the Graphics Studio, the set men were putting the finishing touches to a big Styrofoam pink cloud on which she and Jenifer were supposed to sit, looking as happy as possible over the fact that they were wearing Wonder-Wear underwear.

"Hey, get out the X-ray machine, boys, we gotta photograph Mrs. Larkin with her bathrobe on," jeered one of the technicians crudely as she and Jenifer entered the room. Ann's modesty was legendary among the camera crews and they never failed to tease her unmercifully whenever they got the opportunity. Normally Ann waited until the last possible moment to remove her dressing gown, but today she felt strangely challenged by Jenifer's free-wheeling carelessness and she immediately turned and hung her robe on a peg by the door.

It was the most revealing outfit she had ever modeled and she decided that she had better get accustomed to being looked at for a few minutes before they started pointing a camera at her, for otherwise her embarrassment would show and the pictures would be no good.

Every eye in the room was on her as she walked up and down, chatting uneasily with Jenifer. The full-bodied voluptuous young model knew that her full, firm breasts were swaying temptingly back and forth, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could hate this business all she wanted, but it was keeping Frank and her fed and sheltered and until something better came along, she knew that she had better grin and bear it.

"All right girls, up on the cloud!" called Mr. Pauling briskly as the lights and cameras were finally in position.

The next two hours passed quickly because Ann was busy every minute, posing, changing positions, smiling, frowning and laughing, all under Pauling's expert direction. She was a good model, favored by the graphics director because she concentrated on her work and he never needed to repeat himself when giving her directions.