"Please, Vicky! You don't know what hard work it is, putting together a photographic portfolio! Just model for me once, that's all I ask." "But I've never done anything like that before." "That's exactly why you should give it a go. You're pretty enough to model professionally if you wanted to." I listened doubtfully. I was convinced I looked like practically every other brunette my age. Regular features, good figure, but nothing special. If anyone had model potential, it was Marika, with her swooping cheekbones and legs that went on forever. We were in the alleyway where we took our cigarette breaks. Not that I smoked, but I was happy to keep Marika company. She blew a white plume through her lips, blue eyes slanted towards me.
Marika had only been waitressing at the cafe three weeks, but already it was as if she'd been in my life forever. Very quickly my feelings towards her had grown into what was almost hero worship. Certainly more intense than my reactions to the various guys with whom I'd had sporadic casual encounters. I knew she had ambitions as a photographer and I was eager to help, but was I really cut out to strut around in front of a camera? "What would I have to do?" "Some glamour. A little lingerie. All done in an hour, two hours tops. I give you free glossy copies so you have a portfolio of your own. What do you say?" Marika spoke English with a thick East European accent which made everything she said sound wonderfully enticing. "Two hours?" I echoed faintly.
The following Sunday, we drove in sweltering heat to an old abandoned factory about 20 miles from the city near my hometown. It didn't sound like a very romantic location, but when we got there I could see why she had chosen it. The decayed factory buildings, with their corroded pillars and crumbling loading bays, had the feel of deserted temples. Trees and scrub had crept in from the surrounding countryside, adding to the sense of absolute solitude. The main gates hung on twisted hinges, broken open long ago and left in disrepair. It seemed unlikely we would have any casual encounters with passers-by. "How did you find out about this place?" I asked. She shrugged and looked mysterious. It was typical of Marika that she knew the area already better than I did even though she'd only been here a matter of months. Dressed in a tight tank, urban camo pants and chunky boots, she could hardly have been more in her element. "Okay, let's get you into costume." I immediately panicked. Marika laughed and told me to get changed in the back of the car. There was a knot in my stomach as I slipped off my tee and wriggled awkwardly out of my jeans. I opened the bag of costumes Marika had tossed onto my lap, dug around inside. Out came a faux fur coat, fake pearls, heels, and what felt like a handful of cobwebs. I examined the pieces of skimpy lingerie in disbelief. "Marika - A palm slapped on the roof of the car, making me jump. "Hurry up, slow coach!" So far in my life I'd had only casual encounters with lingerie, so it took me a while to figure things out. But eventually I managed to scramble into the lacy item I happened to be holding, a one-piece with a halter top attached by a metal hoop to minuscule thong bottoms. Then I emerged blinking into the sunlight, stumbling in the unfamiliar heels, pulling the coat around me protectively.
Marika quickly did my makeup and styled my hair, then took me on a tour of the site. She finally settled on an spot where a building had been almost completely dismantled, leaving just a rough floor outline and some steel struts pointing upwards at nothing. I was still clutching the coat as she leaned me against one of the struts. Gently, she moved my hands above my head. The coat fell open, revealing my body in its filmy underwear. It was only now, glancing down, that I realized how sheer it was. Designed for casual encounters in darkened rooms, in broad daylight the garment left nothing to the imagination. All my muscles stiffened in horror. Marika's head dipped towards mine. She planted a kiss on my lips. "Just loosening you up," she explained as she retreated half a dozen steps and lifted her camera. I hardly noticed as she started shooting, I was still so dazed. That kiss - what did it mean? Perhaps she was into me in more than a friendly way? Was that what this whole excursion was about? Not a photoshoot but a seduction scene? Was this how Marika got her sexual kicks? Not through casual encounters in nightclubs and bars, but by creating voyeuristic scenarios? While I pondered this, Marika was feeding me instructions - lift an arm, bend a leg, twist your torso - and I was obeying them on autopilot, my mind elsewhere. If the point of the kiss had been to loosen me up, it had certainly worked. Then I heard her say: "Okay, lose the coat." That jolted me awake. Without the coat I would be as good as naked. But Marika was already stretching out her hand for it. Reluctantly, I shrugged it off and passed it to her, then waited, frightened, to see what would happen next. Moving closer, she slipped a finger under the strap of the flimsy top and tugged it sideways, allowing one breast to pop free. She tweaked the nipple until it swelled into a hard brown bud. I stood there unable to move, frozen in shock and - yes - desire. More shots were taken. Her voice came through the noonday heat, telling me to push aside the other bra cup. I obeyed. Then I heard her say: "How would you feel about going fully nude?"
I opened my mouth but no words came out. Taking my silence for consent, Marika lifted off the halter top, then hooked her thumbs under the elastic of my thong. Without my body to stretch it, the one-piece looked ridiculously tiny as as she stooped to untangle it from my heels. Crouching at my feet, Marika ran appreciative eyes up the full extent of my naked curves.I felt her lips on my inner thigh, moist and cool. Acting on their own, my legs opened, my hand cupped the back of her neck. Her nose brushed against my pubic hair as her mouth found my labia and nuzzled me. "Do I get to see you naked too?" Standing up, she yanked her tank top over her head. Her small, firm breasts bounced into view as she unfastened her bra. She went to unbuckle her belt. My hands were there before her, working the camo pants down her slender hips. My tongue slithered along her flat stomach to her smooth, bald mound. Then we lay together on the floor of the abandoned factory, lost in each others arms. Shortly afterwards, Marika left her job at the cafe and I lost track of her. I've had other casual encounters with girls to have sex in Christchurch since, but that one remains special. She never did send me the photos, but on summer's days when the sun burns hot I can still feel the coolness of her lips on my thigh.