Jamaican Beauties Jaunt Ch. 03

Denise turned, a tear visible on her cheek, and walked to her car swinging her hips for Harold's benefit.

With her blouse again fluttering to her sides, Denise mentally recited her mother's advice which was becoming Denise's mantra, "Loosen up and enjoy the bounty God and my good genes have given you," and for the fifth time that afternoon, followed her mother's advice on walking when exposed as she walked proud and exposed toward Andrew, who was beside her car, photographing her.

When she arrived at the car, Andrew told her how incredibly courageous she was to have bared her breasts in public, to repeat her famous Bacchanal poster pose while he and Harold photographed her, and especially to pose topless with Harold while Andrew photographed them with the American's camera, knowing the American might post his photos on the Internet.

Her stomach tightened as she thought about having a photo of her, with her breasts exposed, posted on the Internet. She quickly came to a calming realization, "He only knows me by my nickname, hundreds of people have already photographed me dancing topless on a Bacchanal float, and besides, there's already a poster of Max and me standing bare-breasted with our arms raised, and it's hanging on thousands of walls, and the image of that poster is available to anyone with access to the Internet. In fact, it is quite probable that father has seen the poster. So, it's certainly too late to be coy or embarrassed about being seen bare-breasted in public."

Once she fully assessed the events of the afternoon, Denise realized it had been an enjoyable and exciting time. Throughout the afternoon she had felt safe and in control while she posed with the American tourist. As she climbed into the driver's seat of her car she thought, "If someone does figure out that's me on the poster it won't really matter. Everyone I know and care about, knows that it happened. It's not really a secret, is it?"

* * * * *

Gay Lessons

On the drive back from the Villa Ronai, Andrew gave Denise the address of the bar he wanted them to visit and reminded Denise of their agreement. Denise frowned while trying to decide if she could go through with her promise to buy Andrew a couple of drinks while she sat in a bar wearing a blouse that, depending on the lighting, was somewhere between translucent and transparent, and probably closer to the latter than the former. Andrew saw her frown and realizing her concern, offered, "You don't need to worry, the patrons at the bar are primarily gay men and lesbians, and they try to keep their sexual preferences a secret. You'll be fine."

The Jambalaya Bar looked nice from the outside so she parked her car and joined Andrew, who had already gotten out and was waiting on the sidewalk. She walked with him arm in arm to the front door, and stepped inside the bar as Andrew held the door open. Denise was relieved to see that the Jambalaya Bar was just as nice inside, with a large bar on one wall, booths on the opposite side, and tables and chairs around a nice-sized, polished wood floor with a dust covered disco ball above it. Andrew led her to two empty stools at the end of the bar and ordered house white wines for both of them.

They talked about the "photo shoot" as Andrew referred to their afternoon at Villa Ronai. They reviewed the photographs on the LCD display of Andrew's digital Nikon and reminisced about the locations and poses. However, Denise, feeling uncomfortable with displaying revealing photographs of herself in a public bar, stopped the review at the point where Harold, the American tourist, joined them. Remembering that she would need to provide proof that she had accomplished her challenge, Denise reminded Andrew he needed to return her memory card before they left the bar.

Andrew, seeing the concern on her face, again explained, "I promised you that I would not take any photographs with any memory card except for the one you gave me, and except for those pictures on the American's camera, all of which you agreed to, I did not take any photos using another memory card."

As she drank her wine, Denise considered that despite all her concerns, today's challenge and the encounter with the American tourist turned out to be quite enjoyable and extremely enlightening. It was an incredible feeling to expose herself in public and to have people admire her and think she was beautiful. It made her feel both alive and powerful. It made her feel, she now believed, the way her mother must always feel.

Enjoying the afterglow of the events of the afternoon and now feeling safe in a sequestered gay and lesbian environment, she asked Andrew if he'd like to dance. He accepted immediately. As they danced, Denise was relieved to see the men around the dance floor were not staring at her. However, Andrew spoiled her mood when he pointed out several women who were openly admiring her body, especially, as Andrew gleefully pointed out, her large, practically exposed breasts, her dark areolae, and extended nipples that were clearly discernible and outlined under the delicate material of her blouse.

Denise quickly overcame her nervousness at having women ogle her and realized that she was actually quite comfortable in this gay environment. She remembered Will's oft posed question, "Why would anyone object to any form of sex between consenting adults unless it was dangerous or could cause harm?" She decided, "As long as the people in the bar only look and don't try anything, I'll live my life and let them live theirs." After a couple of dances, she and Andrew walked back to the bar and reclaimed their stools.

Sipping her still chilled wine Denise asked, "So how are you and Jackson doing?"

Pleased to have a friend with whom he could confide, a friend he trusted to keep things to herself, Andrew made a partial confession, "Jackson and I are still roommates and sometimes sex partners."

"What do you mean by sometimes sex partners?" Denise asked with a puzzled look.

"You knew we were a couple for four years?"

Denise nodded, but was clearly confused.

"Well, we recently agreed our relationship wasn't working. We were both looking for something or someone different from one another. However, although we are no longer a couple, we still share our apartment. We're still friends and we occasionally have sex together. But, it's just sex, to release our tensions, or just to have a good time. As far as a relationship, we've agreed we're just not each other's type."

"I'm sorry," Denise said, patting the back of Andrew's hand in an effort to console her friend, just as she was sure her mother would have done.

"Thank you. However, it's just a decision, an agreement. It isn't a sad thing. It's only a change," Andrew explained trying to ease his friend's obvious and unnecessary discomfort.

Realizing her confusion, understanding they'd agreed to the change, Denise tried to change the conversation and asked, "So what is your type?"

"Physically, I like a man with a big "hood," like Jackson, whereas, it seems, a good looking, shapely, big breasted woman—a woman like you—would be Jackson's first choice," Andrew laughed.

"I'm confused," Denise confessed and then added, "I thought he was gay."

"Oh, my naïve friend, didn't you know? He's bisexual. He enjoys sex with men, women, or even both," Andrew explained between chuckles.

"I'm still confused, but I'll try to understand. To that end, let me start over and repeat my question, what is your type?"

"Seriously?"

Denise nodded and leaned forward to hear Andrew's answer.

"I want a companion. I want someone much like Jackson. Good looking, great body, sexually skilled, intelligent, interesting, fun to be with, willing to try new things, and open to change."

"That sounds like someone I'd be interested in meeting," Denise joked and then added, "But, seriously, do you have anyone in mind? Is there someone you think might meet your criteria?"

"Alas, other than Jackson, there's only one other person I know that comes close to being the person I'm looking for, and I'm still trying to figure out that relationship."

"Well, if you're gay, and I'm not the kind of person you're interested in, why are you always willing to go dancing with me? Why did you accept this... this photo shoot?"

"Because you're my friend. You've always been there for me and never criticized my sexual predilections, never spurned me, and never made fun of me. You've always accepted me as a person, as a friend. You even accepted my relationship with Jackson and treated us as a couple, as your friends."

"And both of you have always been there for me, you've been better friends than I deserved," Denise noted, and remembering his constant and unwavering support while they were in Arts School together, she leaned over and kissed Andrew's cheek and whispered, "Thank you, for being such a good friend."

Andrew toasted his thanks and tried to lighten the conversation, "In the meantime, until the right person comes along, Jackson is a pretty good substitute. In fact, Jackson says the same thing about me. We often joke that if we don't find someone soon we'll end up with each other again."

They finished their wines and ordered another round. While they waited for their refills, Andrew asked, "I'm extremely intrigued as to what would motivate a formerly prim, proper, and very shy woman to suddenly decide to go out in public and be photographed in a short skirt and sheer blouse."

"Let me see if I can explain this," Denise said taking a sip of the wine the bartender just placed before her, thinking about her response, and finally continuing, "I have an Internet friend who, along with my mother, is always pushing me to become less inhibited. To that end, he prepared and dared me to take what he called the Seven Progressive Challenges. Each new challenge has and will undoubtedly continue to require me to reveal more of my body, or be more risqué, before far more people. For the first challenge, I had a store clerk photograph me whilst I modeled these clothes before I purchased them. For the second challenge, I again wore these clothes, but with a bra, as I walked around Emancipation Park, and asked an elderly gentleman I didn't know to take photos of me as I posed in front of the Redemption Song Statue. Today was the third challenge."

"And you're doing this willingly? There isn't someone forcing you to do this?"

"Just my own desire to accomplish the challenges, and mother and Will, my Internet friend, urging me to be less inhibited," Denise answered with a smile before taking another big sip of her wine.

"Okay, then my next question is why did you ask me to be your photographer for this challenge?"

Denise thought for a second before she enumerated her reasons, "One, you're one of my few friends... in fact, you're my very good friend. Two, I trust you to not tell anyone else about this. And three, I knew you were an excellent photographer."

"Thank you for calling me a friend and for trusting me. I promise that I will not intentionally disappoint your faith in me," Andrew said before he thought for a second and asked, "You know, I'm still working on my degree from Arts School, I'm hoping to work as a fashion photographer and in my spare time to do the kind of work that might lead to my becoming a recognized photographic artist?"

When Denise smiled and nodded that she was aware, Andrew asked, pointing to his camera, "Would you be willing to allow me to use some of these photos in my portfolio?"

She thought for a minute before a suddenly inhibited Denise answered, "If I do, I will have to either select the photos myself or approve your selections. Oh, and you will have to promise not to use them for anything except your portfolio."

"Agreed," Andrew immediately responded, smiled, and added, "And if we can continue under that same agreement, I would be willing to do any other photo shoots you might want, including any future challenges."

"I suspect I might need you for a session in the next week or two. I'll let you know as soon as I get my next challenge and decide that I'm willing to accept it," Denise offered, before she frowned as she worried about what she would be required to do if she accepted another challenge.

"I'll be happy to help you, just let me know when and where," Andrew offered, ignoring her frown.

Once they'd finished their second glasses of wine, Denise announced she was physically and mentally exhausted and needed to go home. As he had promised, Andrew, without hesitation or comment, removed Denise's memory card from his camera and handed it to her.

Denise stopped Andrew when he withdrew his wallet and she insisted, "It was part of our deal, remember? I agreed to come here with you and to pay for the drinks. Besides, it's the least I can do to repay you for all of your help."

After paying their tab, Denise thanked Andrew, and shared a friendly good night kiss with him.

Andrew walked to his apartment on the next block and Denise drove home—slowly and very carefully.

* * * * *

After changing into her night shirt, an XXL cricket jersey she'd purchased when attending a match at Sabina Park Cricket Stadium, Denise began writing in her journal, documenting her feelings that day including her feelings while changing into her "challenge outfit" at work, driving to pick up Andrew and then to the villa, posing on the hillside with the sun making her blouse appear nearly transparent, having Andrew photograph her as she posed in front of the villa in the transparent blouse while dozens of people walked by and stared at her. She continued writing about her feelings while she was posing with Harold, the tourist from a cruise ship, and learning about the poster of Max and her.

After she finished her entry explaining how she'd learned a photograph of Max and her dancing topless was now a famous poster, Denise realized she was feeling tense. She went to her kitchenette and poured herself a glass of wine. As she took her first sip, she noticed that her thighs were wet and said aloud, "I can't believe this. I'm getting excited just thinking about exhibiting myself to strangers. I'm behaving like my mother; I'm becoming a concupiscent wench."

She sat back in her easy chair and continued writing the details of learning that she was a sex object to thousands of young men, reenacting her pose on the Bacchanal poster with the tourist, her escapade where, for Harold's benefit, she exposed herself and acted like a slut in front of a bus load of tourists, and finally drinking and dancing with a gay man in a gay and lesbian bar and being ogled by several lesbians.

The whole time she had difficulty resisting her desire to finger herself to an orgasm. When she finished her journal entry documenting the events of the day, she took her journal and half-full glass of wine—half-full because her latest resolution was to always look at the positive side—and moved to her desk and notebook computer, which she powered up before she sat in the chair at her improvised computer desk. Once her computer was running, she slipped the memory card into the slot in the front of the notebook and downloaded the photos Andrew had taken at the Villa Ronai.

Denise drafted her email to Will documenting her actions leading up to but not mentioning her meeting and posing with Harold, and her feelings, which she took almost verbatim from her journal entries. She reviewed the photos from Villa Ronai to determine which ones she would use to support her completion of the challenge, and attached those to her email. After a quick review, to verify that the email message and attached photos documented the completion of her third challenge, she sent the email to Will for his review and expected approval.

Denise sipped her wine as she next selected five photos that she thought were exceptional pictures of both her and the background. Ignoring that in every photo she selected either her breasts or nipples were evident, she attached them to a short email to Andrew stating, "I hope you will find these photos acceptable for inclusion in your portfolio. As soon as I find out, I'll let you know when and where the next photo shoot will occur." Before pressing send, she added a signature, "Your friend and poster model, Dee-Dee."

* * * * *

When he'd finished reading her email, Will determined that as long as she'd found a friend she trusted to serve as her photographer and while she was clearly enjoying the exhilaration of doing the challenges, or more correctly, getting excited while doing them, he would not only let her spend a couple of days savoring the feeling, he would also push her further toward the goal of becoming a free and uninhibited woman. He determined he would let her know about her a subsequent challenge while she was still excited, a challenge he hoped would keep her progressing toward becoming uninhibited, a goal she had indicated she wished to obtain, but needed him to push her.

Later that evening, after receiving permission from the Société Internationale de Défis Progressive, Will prepared the forth challenge, one that gave her the option of continuing to move forward at a slow pace or to quickly move toward becoming a full-blown exhibitionist. He left it as a draft, so he could send it out before going to bed later that evening. He wanted it to be waiting for her when she checked her email first thing Friday morning.

* * * * *

When she'd completed her tasks for the evening, Denise refilled her wine glass, grabbed her laptop, curled up in her over-sized easy chair, and searched the Internet for images of "Jamaican Bacchanal Dancers." She soon found an image of the poster of Max and her, their arms raised, and their sweat covered breasts exposed. She saw it was a large image so she pulled it up to her screen and downloaded it to her private folder of photographs. She retrieved the image and enlarged it so she could carefully inspect the poster that ten thousand men had been willing to purchase and hang on their walls.

She first saw that Max and she were both quite sweaty. Beads of perspiration hung from their noses and lips, lines of sweat were visible on their chests, breasts, and stomachs. She saw that, because they were in heels and had raised their arms, their stomachs were taut, and their breasts lifted and full. "They look like Playboy centerfold breasts," she noted aloud. She next noticed that Max and she had stiff nipples. At first, she wasn't sure, but then she saw that their areolae were shriveled and there was a shadow cast by their erect nipples.

"I'll bet every man's ancient animalistic mind subconsciously recognizes those as signs of female excitement and arousal," she reflected.

Scrolling up the poster's image, Denise, conscious of the signs Harold had mentioned, noticed that her lips were indeed shaped as if she were moaning, her nostrils were flared, and her eyes were glazed.

"I look as if I'm in orgasmic ecstasy. No wonder Harold's grandson thought we looked as if we'd been completely satiated by our lovers," Denise complained to her empty apartment.

Denise brought up a second copy of the graphic display software and reviewed the photographs Andrew had taken of her and Harold. She was now accustomed to seeing the outline of her breasts and nipples and the darkness of her areolae through the fine mesh of her blouse. The photos of her posing with Harold were a different story, in almost every case her blouse was either open or removed. Her breasts were exposed. To her bewilderment and consternation, she saw that in every photograph where she was topless, she was smiling broadly, her eyes were wide open and bright with pleasure, and her nipples were erect.

When she reached the first photograph that showed her standing topless with her arms raised, she pulled up the image of the poster and set the two images side-by-side on her notebook screen. She slowly reviewed each photograph taken of her as she was attempting to replicate the pose in the poster. After several minutes of detailed analysis, she'd forgotten that the bare-chested lady in the photos she was analyzing was herself.