Samantha Ch. 01-03

Artist makes a discovery about his model, and he likes it.

Prologue

She slid her hands down her body, over her naked breasts, down her flat stomach, to the cleft of her hip. Her fingers played over the sensitive skin as the fingers she was sucking on tweaked one of her nipples. She reached between her legs, grabbed, squeezed, and rubbed until she was lying in a puddle of come. She smiled, drifting off to sleep, and thought about her big day tomorrow.

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Ch. 01

The doorbell finally managed to rouse him. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, catching a look at himself in the mirror. He groaned. He pulled on a tight pair of jeans with last night's belt already in the loops. That and a white vee-neck was all he had time for. His necklaces, his rings were still there from the night before. And the god damned doorbell hadn't stopped ringing. He tucked a joint behind his ear and shook his chestnut hair down over it. The doorbell stopped ringing about three seconds before he reached the handle, and on the other side of the door was the absolute best ass he'd ever seen clinging for dear life to the inside of a very privileged black mini-skirt. The exact mini-skirt, in fact, that he'd told her to wear.

"Samantha. Sorry to have kept you waiting." He put on his charming smile, but didn't commit too much energy yet. From behind, she was perfect. The front couldn't possibly be that hot. He was wrong. When she turned it seemed to be in cinema-quality slow motion. It was if the Universe had invented cliche's just for this girl. Her nearly platinum hair, shoulder length, whipped over her left shoulder in an arch. Her shoulders pulled back, the golden skin taut over the bone. The white silk tank top left her marble-sculpted neck exposed fully to the breeze. The thin tan strip of flesh adorning her tiny waist belied the fitness regimen that all of these girls in California had to use to get jobs with two international fashion sources' number one on the 'Ten Best Photographers Under Thirty.' As her breasts came into view Aiden could see that the bra she was wearing barely did its job. But it was from a very expensive line he'd shot earlier that year. The cleavage that sloped so expertly, not too gently, but at the perfect angle for a single bead of summer sweat to roll down it kept his eyes for a microsecond too long. With his memory, though, he could meet her gaze before she really noticed and still memorize the curves of Samantha's chest.

It was that very gaze that instantly captivated Aiden's expert gaze. Never had he seen green eyes with so many actual colors in them. Never had such strong, commanding eyelashes commanded so subvertedly. The shape of her cheekbones seemed to catch the best light from every angle at once. The gentle chin with a single scar on it completed the perfectly framed face. One minute flaw, if it could even be considered such (which, by Aiden, it wasn't). And just above that adorable chin, was the most perfect set of shiny, plump, naturally glossed lips. The texture, so photographable. The perfect highlights and shadows for black and white. Even though he'd originally wanted to perfectly capture her golden skin tone, he now could only fixate on how stunning a black-and-white model she would be under his care.

Finally, those lips spoke.

"Well, I know a talent like yours can't be pandered around on some no-name's schedule." And with that, Aiden's heart fell. She was just another of the obsessed, silly girls who show up at his door begging him to make them immortal. But just as suddenly, his hopes rose again. She was being sarcastic. It brought out one of his tabloid-famous grins. Which was immediately met with a "Won't work on me. I'm here to do photos with you, that's it."

But the grin didn't fade away, and she smiled. "Of course," he said, opening the door all the way, holding his arm out to usher her in chivalrously. She strutted past him confidently, but cast him a catty grin over her shoulder as she did. He closed the door after her and shuddered visibly at the second view of her from behind. She didn't turn to look at him again. She walked right over to the couch, which was shorter than it needed to be for her next move not to have been sexual: She leaned over the edge, resting on her hands on the back of the couch. At that angle, her butt angled out and her mini-skirt rode up. Aiden's eyes began their all-encompassing sweep up the new view. Her heels were also very expensive, black leather, three inches. They laced up her ankle and gave way to the legs that were far longer from this angle than possible. They were perfectly shaped and perfectly flawless. Strong, slim, sexy. The skirt that he'd had her wear was the one for which they were shooting today. It was nothing but so many layers of black lace that formed a skirt that was more than lingerie. But it was short. And riding the line between fashionable and indecent expertly.

But from this angle, Aiden could also see she slightest hint of the curves of her cheeks peaking out. As she slowly, subtly, leaned forward, he got a lot more than a hint. Her black lace thong, from a yet unreleased line, was possibly the best earthly match for that ass. The shape, the unblemished skin, the tight muscle hidden under that uniquely soft skin. It was almost too much for him. Then she abruptly stood up and turned back to him.

"Gorgeous view you have there." She was referring to the two-wall two-story bay window she'd been facing during her little show. She strutted slowly back toward him and asked "So where should I go get ready?"

"The studio is straight to your right. My living space is above that, and to your left, as you can see, is the kitchen. Anything you need, take it. I'll go get my camera, everything else is set up." She lingered a moment on him, then moved toward the kitchen as he padded off up the stairs. When he got to his bedroom he went through to the bathroom. He put some water on his hair, wiped off some thin dust from last night's party, swallowed some mouthwash and looked, in vain, for eyedrops. Satisfied, he pulled the joint out of his hair, grabbed his camera off the nightstand, and went on down to the studio. He was lighting the joint when he walked into the studio and there, in the same skirt and shoes as before, was a completely topless Samantha.

Aiden smiled briefly, and they got to business with the shoot. It seemed their game from earlier was on pause. After the shoot, Samantha left him her professional contact information, at his request, and left. And that was that with Samantha, Aiden said to himself. And then he hung up his hat for the day, threw on some Italian boots, a new shirt, and went out for the night.

At three in the morning, he was making his high-profile date call him God, but all he could think about was Samantha.

The next day he was processing Samantha's photos. The shoot had gone better than anticipated, and each frame he needed was perfect. It reminded him of his work after college. And it made him angry too. Seeing how well it was going, all he could wish for was that it were on film, not digital. Two days later he got a call from the Fashion Editor of the magazine Samantha's shoot was for.

"Mr. Court, this is Gavin Farbes."

"If I have to call you 'Gavin' then you have to call me 'Aiden.'" They both laughed. "To what do I owe this call? Was my work so spectacular that you had to call me yourself to congratulate me on my historical contribution to fashion and art?" Aiden asked, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"Well, Aiden... Yes. That's why I'm calling. I want you to stop shooting fashion for a while." Gavin said, bluntly.

"You're firing me? Okay. Didn't see that one coming."

"My top assistant editor resigned today to put out his own magazine, all fine art. He wants to do the opening edition with you. 140 pages of your original creative material. In two months." He let his sentence hang, not goading a response out of Aiden.

After a patient silence, Aiden said, "I can do that. I have to start in ten minutes and I can't ever sleep, but I can do that. What kind of backing does this guy have, what kind of coverage are we talking?" Aiden's mind was in the swing of business.

"It'll pay pennies to the dollar to what you're payed here. At first. But it'll put you back in your element. Maybe help steer you off of the more self destructive of decisions?"

"I don't need a father, Gavin."

"Just don't kill yourself, Aiden. I don't want you to miss this opportunity. Get started, I'll send over the paperwork tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Gavin." And he hung up.

Aiden turned back to his work table, where some of Samantha's shots were blown up. He made another call. After six rings, she answered.

"Samantha, it's Aiden Court. Listen, I'm taking a... sabbatical this summer to work on my own art. I think I've finally found a muse worth working with. So... what do you say? It won't be easy, by any means, but I'll pay you more than what I'm getting for this. And you'll forevermore be Aiden Court's muse."

Samantha had been silent during his pitch and she responded calmly. "I would need to go over some things with you before I accept."

"Come right over then."

When Samantha arrived, she was wearing flats, raggedly tattered jeans, and a black tee shirt. And she still looked just as delicious as the first time she'd come over.

When she had him seated on his own couch, her back to the pacific sunset, she just blurted it out. "I'm a man."

Thirty minutes later, they had arranged everything and she was on her way home. In the morning she'd be moving in with Aiden for the two months. They'd work night and day getting the shots they needed. The first ten percent of the book would be shots he'd done in the past, and the last ten percent landscape shots from Thailand he took when he was seventeen. That left 112 pages of Samantha, both clothed and nude, and would never once betray her as a transsexual.

Not that you could tell. At all. With Aiden's experience in New Orleans and L.A., he should know. He even cross-referenced the Internet. Not a single example could be found of a girl on Samantha's level. By the end of the ensuing masturbation session, his first in weeks, he was left wondering what it looked like. What she looked like, completely naked. It was a curiosity that, if acted upon, would destroy his contract with Samantha, and would ruin the launch of the new magazine.

So for at least two months, it would only be a curiosity.

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Ch. 02

All but one week of the two months had gone by. For seven weeks Samantha had lived with Aiden. She had slept in the same room as Aiden, on the luxurious bed he'd had moved in for her. For seven weeks they had each slept in the same room while the other, barely three yards and no walls away, brought men and women into bed with them. Sometimes Aiden and Samantha would entertain on the same night. Sometimes they shared someone, but never together. The girl or guy that Aiden had over would sneak into Samantha's bed after they were done, and Samantha's men and women alike would occasionally follow suit. It sparked between them a sincere kind of friendship.

The first time it happened, though, Aiden was completely unprepared. He'd been in the darkroom all afternoon and evening and he was exhausted. He'd been laying in bed for an hour, unable to sleep, thinking once more of Samantha. That was probably what was keeping him up. He heard the front door open and rolled over to feign a deep slumber. Then he heard two voices.

One was Samantha's. That was certain. He knew her voice well by now. The other woman was someone he didn't know. They came up to Aiden's room and began discarding their clothes at the entrance to the room. Their drunk flirting had deteriorated into sloppy kissing and girlish giggling. When Aiden realized that they were and would be completely oblivious he leaned up to watch. He'd placed Samantha's bed directly under the sky light so that either the morning sun or the moon or Los Angeles's ambient light pollution always lit up her bed.

The redhead was leaning over Samantha, their tops off, no bras, both wearing only panties. The shoes must be downstairs, he though. The redhead's black thong was all lace. Samantha's was turquoise and cotton. And failing miserably to conceal her medium sized, rock hard cock. Never had Aiden seen such a feminine cock. The guys he liked were all models, and didn't always scream masculinity, but he'd never seen one like this. Instantly he was hooked, and, apparently, so was the red head. She went down on Samantha at near record speeds, capturing Samantha's cock and administrating a blowjob clearly designed for someone completely feminine.

Samantha pulled her back up to kiss her, then pulled her up on her knees to kiss her breasts. While Katie, the redhead, was being treated, Samantha, the foot of whose bed faced the foot of Aiden's, looked right at him and smiled as she bit Katie's nipple. Katie moaned loudly. She grabbed Samantha and pulled her forward, falling onto her back with Samantha on top of her. Samantha instantly devoured Katie's neck, looking up at Aiden once again. It was clear that she wanted him to watch.

She slid back down Katie and set in on her mound, eliciting sounds from the fiery redhead that Aiden was familiar with, but impressed nonetheless. When Katie grabbed Samantha's head and nearly screamed, Aiden was at full attention. Katie then decided it was Samantha's turn. She flipped them over and slid Samantha's cock right into her ass. She was rocking back and forth, bouncing up and down, and, from the sounds Samantha was making, squeezing rather tightly. Aiden could only wish to be in that bed with them. Samantha did too, if he was interpreting here long glances properly. But neither of them could do that. Not until August.

Samantha took a long time to finish. Katie's and Samantha's alternating fingers in Katie's pussy and Samantha's cock in her ass sent Katie over the edge almost a dozen times before Samantha filled her ass with hot cum. They lay there, spent, happy, giddy even, and Aiden rolled back over to waste away the time until Katie left and he could go back to work, frustrated. Because he wasn't going to sleep like that. But that's not how it worked out.

When Katie got up to go to the bathroom, Samantha rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. "What'd you think?" she asked, grinning. The Famous Aiden Court was almost at a loss for words. Almost.

"I'd consider renting but I don't know if I'd be committed to buy." She laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him. Just then Katie walked back in.

"Well, look who's awake." She said coyly. Aiden just shrugged. She looked at Samantha, who just nodded, then crawled under Aiden's covers at the foot, capturing his painfully hard cock in her mouth on the way up. She was good. He instantly relaxed and let her work her magic. When he felt she'd had enough, he pulled her up to him and she sunk her pussy instantly on his cock, thrusting forward until he was all the way in. This is why Samantha'd fucked her ass then.

Aiden went through his usual repertoire of moves until neither she, who was in her second round, nor he, who was, despite rumors, a mere human male, could take no more. He announced his impending orgasm and she turned around from standing on the bed, hands spread on the wall, to kneeling in front of him as she jacked him off until her face was covered with him. Then she kissed him and went back to Samantha's bed. The two of them kissed while Katie dressed and Aiden texted for a cab. Aiden and Samantha said goodnight to each other around six a.m. and both rolled over for a peaceful sleep.

Those were the memories that helped Aiden survive the eight weeks of wanting something that he couldn't have for the first time in his life.

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Ch. 03

The August 2010 issue of 'Masquerade' launched much bigger than anyone anticipated. Marcus, the editor in chief, Aiden, and even Samantha walked away with a bigger cut than they'd expected. The night after the launch party Samantha went home with a man and Marcus went home with Aiden. At twenty-nine, they were the same age. They were near in height, and Aiden's English creamy skin looked stunning against Marcus's Latin caramel. They had chemistry and the spark only intensified when their clothes were off. In the morning, Marcus was gone.

Samantha woke Aiden up with an Irish coffee. She looked as perfect as she always did, one hundred percent woman, one hundred percent stunning. He smiled as she sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. But her face soon made him sit up with more attention. Something was bothering her.

"Well, the book's out. So I'm getting ready to move back to my place." She said.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that was the agreement right?" But that's not what he wanted to say. He wanted to know what he could do to get her to stay. This was the day he'd been hoping for, planning for, waiting for. But she was moving out.

That day he helped her square her few things away for the move. In doing so he became aware of his surroundings for the first time in two months. The little changes she'd made while living there really did change the place. For the better. Why he was just now seeing all of it he couldn't know. How he could really what he now realized he was feeling, he also didn't know.

She was to stay there one more night, so they decided to relax from the intense work by themselves one time before she left. He made dinner and they had wine and neither of them had to impress anyone. And after the second bottle of wine and a few good joints they were sitting quite close on the couch.

"So," Aiden started, almost drunk. "If there were anything I could do to get you to stay a little longer, what would it be?"

She looked shocked, then laughed, then said, "Fuck me. Tonight." Now Aiden was shocked, and that was an impressive feat.

"Well, how should I start then?" He smiled back.

"Try kissing me first, dumbass." She grinned wickedly.

That was all it took for Aiden to dive into her, take her face between his hands, and give her exactly the kiss she'd wanted for weeks. And that kiss was all it took to set off the wildfire that had been building between them since their first shoot together. Samantha pulled him down onto her on the couch. Their hands were all over each other. Their passion was hot and charged. The ravaged each other. They began to migrate upstairs. Her shoes came off, his did too. Any jewelry either of them was wearing fell to the floor at the top of the stairs. They were in the bedroom, headed for his bed. He steered them toward hers.

"I have to see you in the moonlight," he said. She crawled onto the bed and stood on her knees, slipping a shoulder strap of her dress over each shoulder, letting the dress cascade down her perfect body. If possible, it seemed more perfect tonight, because tonight it would be his. She worked it over her knees and was now in nothing but her very expensive bra and very expensive panties. His white cotton button-up was already open and the buttons of his jeans undone. He wore no underwear so he was naked before her.

But he took his time on her body. He laid her down and started his worship at her feet. He kissed gingerly up her calves and onto her thighs, up her hip, up her stomach, skipping over to the swell of her breasts. He kissed up her collar bone and along her jugular until he found the sweet spot under her jaw and nibbled lightly. Her nails dug into his back as she groaned with animalistic pleasure. Then they were kissing violently again, both fumbling with her bra and it was almost instantly discarded.

His tongue's assault on her nipples was well planned, well rehearsed, and well executed. She moaned. She groaned. She smiled, she gasped, she clawed at him and at the bed. He became curious.