Changing Direction Ch. 02

Chapter Two: The Audition

Ella's mobile phone buzzed once on the counter of her bathroom, making her jump a little as she stepped out from the shower. She grasped it excitedly, checking the text message as she wrapped the fluffy white towel around her body.

Good luck, darling.

Show Bruno how much you want this.

See you soon.

Marilyn x

She had spoken to the gorgeous older woman she'd met in Dubai on a couple of occasions since she had returned to England. The blonde siren had been very keen to get the whole audition thing moving as quickly as possible and, remarkably, it had been arranged within a week. Today was the day.

She still hadn't said a word to Marc about her meeting with Marilyn, nor the follow up telephone calls, or even today's audition. Wait on the outcome, she'd decided, in case it all proved to be a waste of time. She had no intention of looking foolish in front of her boyfriend if it all came to nothing. He'd just laugh at her.

Marilyn had told her whilst her photographer—Bruno—could be an absolute prick, he was also the best in the business. She'd suggested that the best way to deal with him was to ignore his rudeness, work with him, and follow his instructions to the letter. He knew the industry inside-out and understood exactly what the clients wanted to see.

He'd be certain to bring out the best in her.

Ella tried to control her heavy breathing as she thought of what the future could hold. This time for the better! She'd already turned her life around once—escaping from her troubled background in the Inner City estates. Moving away from it all to the party town of Brighton had taken a lot of guts.

Subsequently meeting Marc had been the icing on the cake, even if the relationship was on its last legs. It had been a great ride until recently, but in truth it was probably only the memories of their happy earlier times that was holding them together right now.

But this ... this was a chance to make something of herself that was beyond her wildest dreams.

Slipping out of the white towel, she smiled to herself as she checked out her toned body in the floor-length mirror. Perky tits, hard nipples, tight ass—she'd have Bruno eating out of her hand.

Guys always did.

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Ella sat quietly in the taxi, staring out of the window as it approached the innocuous looking building on the other side of the road. She was disappointed it didn't look more impressive, although the 'Secret Fantasies Modelling Agency' wording subtly emblazoned in red across the cream façade certainly sent a shiver through her.

Marilyn had told her she would explain the derivation of the name when they met for lunch. It was a new concept that would excite her, the strawberry-blonde woman had teased.

That could wait. Right now, the future—her future—awaited.

She took three deep breaths before feeling able to exit the cab and head across the road. The reception area was large and spacious, with photographs of female models adorning the walls. She took a deep breath. Her photograph could be up there soon...

She was still daydreaming when a voice greeted her.

"Ella?"

Wow, that was impressive. The receptionist knew who she was before she had introduced herself. The Latina woman looked attractive enough to be a model herself and had no inhibitions about showing off her mocha brown, curvy flesh in that short, light blue dress.

And nor should she, with that stunning figure. Was this the standard she was up against? Ella hoped not.

"Bruno is expecting you," the dark-haired woman continued, clearly checking her out as she spoke. Those large eyes had definitely taken a moment to take in her entire figure and outfit. "Come on, let me take you to Roy in make-up. Bruno doesn't like to be kept waiting."

A shiver fluttered through Ella's body as the Latina turned on her heels and led the way. This was it. It was now or never.

Her eyes covered the girl's near perfect ass as she followed her along the narrow corridor. The tight dress clinging to the receptionist's peachy ass looked like it had been almost sprayed on.

She took Ella into a small rectangular room and introduced her to the larger than life make-up artist. His tone, outrageous fashion sense and mannerisms suggested he was gay, but she quickly discovered he was also a genius at hairdressing and make-up.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" he eventually asked her when he had restyled her hair. He had a hint of a lisp.

Ella gave a surprised gasp as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. He had changed her look completely. Her dark hair was woven up so that it looked bigger, much bigger and voluminous, back combed to increase the height. It made her look very glamorous, she thought.

"I love it," she beamed at him, happily teasing the huge hair in her hand.

He grinned at her as he went back to his task, his eyes working her face like an artist worked a painting, applying the make-up carefully and then brushing away the few blemishes she had. When he'd finished, he adjusted the mirror so that she could fully appreciate the effect.

Her eye-liner was black and much thicker than normal, framing her beautiful eyes in an almost feline way. Her cherry red painted lips complimented the heavy, dark mascara and the big silver hoop earrings completed the look.

"Perfect," she gleefully told him, testing the effect by giving a provocative pout into the mirror.

"Perfect, indeed," he agreed, almost preening himself as he admired his own handiwork. "Now, can I get you anything else, maybe a little something to calm your nerves? A glass of wine or a little coke?"

"Um... wine would be good, thanks," she stuttered, a bit surprised at the flamboyant make up artist's offer.

The mention of the coke made her even more nervous. She did drugs regularly, of course, who didn't these days? But cocaine? She'd seen the effects on people she knew and had always stayed away from it. Still, just the mention of the expensive drug cemented the feeling that this was it, the Big Time, and her opportunity to reshape her life.

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Roy took her directly to the dressing room when, at last, they were finished. Ella had had no idea the process would take this long, but the wine had helped calm her nerves.

"Choose either outfit, sweetheart," he told her, holding the dressing room door open. "When you're dressed, just head out of the door on the other side of the room. Good luck."

With that, he blew her a kiss and headed back the way he'd come.

The dressing room was empty other than the long rack and the two very skimpy bikinis hanging from it. These were the outfits? The realisation actually encouraged her. Who had ever been able to resist her in a bikini? Maybe this was going to work out, she smiled to herself.

Why did she always doubt what she could achieve?

"Okay, Bruno," she muttered to herself, as she slipped into the black bikini and adjusted it over her perky boobs. "You ain't seen anything yet."

It left absolutely nothing to the imagination, but neither had the red bikini she'd been wearing on the beach when she'd first met Marilyn. She checked her appearance in the mirror before leaving the room and loved her altered state, almost like a different person.

Sexier, sluttier...

The door to the left took her out into what was clearly the studio. It was much smaller than she'd expected. So was the diminutive photographer.

This was the fearsome Bruno Marilyn had warned her about?

The shaven-headed man facing her was maybe five feet tall—surely no more—as slim as a rake, and with a curiously long pointed nose. Tattoos covered most the arms left exposed by his sleeveless white vest top.

She stepped forward, ready to introduce herself, but the photographer was in no mood for formalities.

"Flaunt it," he barked, clicking off a series of shots without warning.

Shit. He had started already? She wasn't prepared.

"Pay attention," he snapped when she hesitated. It was clear he didn't suffer fools gladly. "Walk across the room. Then back. Look sexy. Think sexy."

She couldn't quite place his clipped accent. Eastern European? He crouched at different angles as she hurriedly followed his instruction, his camera whirling into action never more than a few feet away.

The degree of uncertainty that washed over her made her feel even more uncomfortable.

The room was small and she had circled it a couple of times before he held up a hand and called a halt to the action. His sour expression confirmed that he wasn't happy.

"Do you know the meaning of the word sexy," he spat out venomously, as if he was trying to provoke a reaction.

His accent was so thick it was difficult to catch every word. But the meaning was clear. His narrow beady eyes stared right through her.

"We try again," he snapped. "Stand tall. Put your right hand on your hips..."

He clicked off a few more shots as Ella tried to do exactly as he asked.

"One leg in front of the other..."

More shots.

"Your left hand in your hair..."

He changed angle this time, crouching low again to gain a different perspective.

"Bruno wants sexy," he told her, barking out the words.

He continued to fire off shot after shot as Ella hurried to obey each instruction he gave, unable to understand why she felt she was struggling to cope. Surely it couldn't be that hard? Especially not for someone who thought of themselves as naturally sexy as she did.

She was trying to follow each instruction to the letter but how could she give her best when he was clearly so unhappy with her? Everything she did, every pose she made seemed wrong, not even close to what he wanted or expected.

He stood facing her now, that peculiar looking face full of thunder.

"Listen to what Bruno wants," he snapped, his clipped accent even more pronounced than before. "Bruno wants attitude. Feel it, feel it inside. You like to fuck? Show me how you feel when you want to fuck."

Perspiration broke out on her forehead. It shouldn't be that difficult, should it, not when she could feel that slow burning tension inside her that only a good fuck could relieve. She often felt that way when she hadn't had sex for a couple of days. Why couldn't she convey that to the camera? She was trying her hardest to let him see the need inside her. Why couldn't he see what she was trying to show him?

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It was a couple of hours into the shoot before Bruno allowed her to take a break. Nothing was going right. Even on the rare occasion he half-praised something she'd done—a look, a stance, a movement—he instantly wanted more of the same, which somehow made it harder than ever to reproduce.

And that scowl on his face was so scary and intimidating.

He'd given her twenty minutes to shower and change into the cream bikini and waved her off with a dismissive hand that showed his frustration with her. When she'd scuttled back to the dressing room, a bottle of wine was waiting for her.

He's a hard taskmaster but don't get disheartened, the note beside the wine said. It was from Roy. He must have known from experience what she was going through. You can do it, the note ended.

It was just the motivation she needed. Yes, she could. She had to. If she didn't find a way to quickly impress the strange looking photographer, her dream would be over before it started, and that was an option she wasn't even going to consider right now.

She'd get her mind together and show Bruno exactly how sexy she was.

She drank the first glass quickly and polished off a second before she took her shower. In other circumstances, she would almost certainly have masturbated under the running water. That would definitely have helped temporarily calm the growing sexual tension inside her.

The intensity of trying to produce the sexy attitude Bruno wanted was starting to arouse her, if not the diminutive photographer. But if she relieved herself it might also lose her the edge Bruno was seeking. It was there, it was clear in her eyes she just had to find a way of letting the camera see. Was it that difficult?

She emerged from the shower with a new resolve and slipped into the cream bikini. If such a thing was possible, it was even skimpier and revealing than the first. That was a good start!

She quickly drank a third glass of wine. Alcohol always made her horny and she was at her sexiest when she was aroused. She could almost feel it seeping through her veins like an aphrodisiac and smiled wantonly at her reflection in the dressing room mirror.

Okay, she was ready now—ready to show Bruno what sexy looked like.

----------

She burst back into the studio, prepared for anything. Bruno instantly swung the camera on her, but she was ready for him this time.

Without either of them saying a word, she sashayed past him as if she was back on that Dubai beach. Head proudly held high, she deliberately swayed her hips provocatively and swung her tight ass from side to side in full teasing mode. Turning back to face him, she arched her back and thrust her tits out. Her nipples were so hard they threatened to explode through the flimsy material.

But still the bastard wasn't satisfied...

He kept pushing her, continually searching for the outer limits of her boundaries. Another half an hour passed but this time she didn't buckle under the pressure. He wasn't going to have that satisfaction. She gave him everything he demanded, with interest.

"Better," he eventually had to concede, circling her body to the right, then the left as his camera whirred, zoomed and clicked. "But I need more..."

Ella stared him down. He did, did he? She really was feeling it now. He was blind if he couldn't see how hot and sexy she was feeling. Surely it had to be evident in the photographs he was taking?

"Think sex. Think fucking. Make me want you."

She snorted. What the hell did he imagine she was thinking of? Make him want her, huh? He'd end up wanting her alright. She threw her head back, both hands in her heightened dark hair, her body swaying infront of him seductively like a stripper. Mouth half-open, she ran her tongue slowly around her glossy lips.

"More," he repeated, the clicking of his camera now machine-like as he focused in on her body. "Make me want to fuck you."

She dropped her hands to her tits, cupping them through the thin material of her top and unable to prevent an errant finger from teasing her already stiff nipples. Bruno's eyes widened fractionally as he dropped to one knee to change angle. That was better, she could see that the expression on his face had changed.

It was possible after all. She was affecting him. It was as if he could see the heat building inside her.

The realisation sent a surge of excitement through her. Taking the initiative, she stared at the camera lens as she untied the string at her neck and pulled the bikini top free. Her tits bounced sensually before settling and she arrogantly tossed the top away. Going topless was natural for her and the changing expression on his face confirmed she was winning him over. His huffs of irritation had virtually disappeared.

When he briefly paused to run his eyes across her body, she knew she had him. The camera had taken second place in those couple of seconds. His expression as he devoured her perky tits was more than simply professional. Ella smiled to herself. He was human after all.

She reached for the bottle of oil on the table next to her. She'd noticed it earlier and wondered whether he'd eventually want her to use it. Now, she almost didn't care what he wanted. The tables had been turned and he was in control of the situation now, not him.

Holding the bottle high above her breasts, she allowed the oil to cascade down onto the upslope of her tits, first the right one and then the left. If she expected a rebuke from the photographer, none was forthcoming. He was clicking away again, capturing each soft splash as it landed and then slithered across her naked flesh.

Thank God that Marc couldn't see her. Her boyfriend knew she was an exhibitionist, but this time she was really was pushing all the boundaries. The heat inside her was growing.

She dropped the bottle back onto the table, watching as it teetered and then fell on its side. Then her eyes were back on the camera as she caressed the oil slowly and methodically into her skin. The cool wetness of the liquid felt sublime.

Her breath suddenly caught as she recalled the way it had felt when Marilyn had oiled her in Dubai. Eyes narrowed, she lost herself in the moment. In her mind's eye, it was Marilyn's hands that were cupping her breasts now, feeling her nipples burn into her palms.

The soft moan she let out echoed around the small room.

Bruno moved closer, alternately capturing every expression on her face and every caress of her hands. When she tugged on her nipples, the sensations catapulted down her body and between her legs. The feelings were so intense she almost lost her balance.

That felt so good.

"Sit," he snapped, nodding at the carpeted floor. "Now."

Her movements were almost urgent as she did as instructed. It suddenly hit her that, at last, she was in tune with what he'd been trying to achieve. Sitting back, palms on the floor behind her, naked tits thrust out, nipples hard and her legs spread apart, she was no longer posing. She was giving herself totally—to him, to the camera.

Marilyn had said he'd bring out the best in her.

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Bruno stood between Ella's legs, aiming the camera downwards between her thighs to her bikini covered pussy. She'd never felt this sluttish since she'd recently given herself to a guy she'd met in a club.

They'd spent the last hour of the night gyrating against each other's bodies in the middle of a packed dance floor, working one another into such a state of sexual need that it had been unable to resist.

Once outside the club, she had hungrily dragged her new friend into a nearby deserted alley. Her need to fuck had been intense. Just like now. Pulling up her figure hugging mini dress, she had slipped off her panties and wrapped her legs around his waist as she'd let him frantically take her against the wall.

She hadn't even known his name.

Her eyes were lidded with desire as she stared upwards at Bruno again. The delicious heat inside her was growing out of control. Was this the way all models felt infront of the camera, she wondered? The bulge in Bruno's groin was growing and she felt an irrational urge to unzip those black jeans and take his cock into her mouth.

She wouldn't, of course. She couldn't. She'd never be unfaithful to Marc, not even when their relationship was as shaky as it was. Still, the outline of his cock suggested he was huge for such a small man...

With a sudden surge of lust mixed with exhibitionism, she reached for the tie at the left side of her bikini bottoms and pulled it free. Staring sexily into the lens, she repeated the action with the right tie before hesitating. No, she couldn't do this, could she? But even as the warning bells went off in her brain, she found herself pushing her tight ass up from the floor and tugging the bottoms away.

Her smooth labial lips were pink with arousal.

Her eyes found Bruno's. He had lowered the camera to his chest and those pinprick eyes of his were watching her closely. She had only masturbated for someone on two occasions. Once was infront of her best friend and sometimes lover Dani, in her apartment, and the other was for Marc, shortly after they'd fucked for the very first time.

Yet as exciting as those experiences had been, she hadn't been as aroused as this. This feeling was overwhelming. Her tongue swept across her lips a she trailed her fingers down between her thighs. As if on auto pilot, her hips instantly began to move against her hand.