tagExhibitionist & VoyeurABC: Allie Needs an Audition

ABC: Allie Needs an Audition


Allie tapped on the door to the apartment. She was a slender girl, her blonde hair cut into the short pixie style that was popular in Long Beach that spring. Taking a deep breath, she shoved her hands into her back pockets and waited.

This was crazy.

She checked the address on the slip of paper tucked into her jeans. James had thrust it into her hand and then practically shoved her out the door of her mother's apartment. She liked him, but he was so bossy. Her mother had only started dating him last year, but he was already calling all the shots at her house.

The door jerked open and a man with a camera the size of a football stood in the doorframe. He was dark with a swoop of jet black hair, a shadow of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and skinny jeans that hugged his thighs.

Allie swallowed. He was such a good-looking man.

"Hey, there." He grinned, his smile lighting his face. "You're the new model."

Allie looked over her shoulder, then immediately regretted it. Of course he meant her. Her brows rose up on her forehead and she nodded. Suddenly she had no words. She told him her name but he didn't offer his own. He barely seemed to register the name she'd given him. Instead he waved her inside, then looked up and down the hallway of the building, before returning the heavy door silently into its jamb.

Inside, she gazed around a mostly bare room. A couch, a coffee table. Some of those heavy duty lights on big metal stands. Those big umbrella things photographers use.

"Can I get you a drink?"

He headed into a little kitchen space off the main room. Allie had not allowed herself to believe that James could actually get her a modeling gig. He always talked about his industry contacts, but Allie had assumed he was bragging. The photographer came back into the studio with two plastic bottles of water, handing one to her. He gazed at her body in a very frank manner.

"I like the look," he finally said. "Very bold. Cute."

Allie's cheeks flushed. Was he teasing her?

She'd been so certain that James would beg off, she hadn't spent much time getting dressed this morning. She wore a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a loose-fitting tank top. Faded red Converse and knee-high striped socks.

The photographer went about the room repositioning lights.

She stood before a backdrop, her arms filled with all her stuff: a bag, her purse, backpack, wallet and phone. He peppered her with questions about her previous modeling experience, of which she had very little.

"I like to post selfies on Instagram," she heard herself saying. "All my friends say I'm naturally very photogenic." She laughed nervously.

Marsha Coleman was actually the only person who'd ever said Allie was photogenic, but Allie was no longer friends with Marsha since she'd betrayed Allie by sucking off her boyfriend at the Hollywood Bowl. It hurt Allie to think about her boyfriend putting his cock in Marsha's mouth but not quite enough to actually break up with him. He'd been drunk, she rationalized. And, anyhow, Marsha wasn't the best friend for Allie to have trusted with her boyfriend, especially when the two of them were out partying all night at a concert. Deep down Allie knew she shouldn't take the blame for what her boyfriend had done, but she just wasn't ready to let go of him yet.

"I've been posting pictures online with my friends since we were little," Allie said, knowing she sounded lame.

"Do you have many followers?"

She had eight followers, not counting her mom and James. Allie took a deep breath and sighed. "No."

He had been gazing into the panel of one of the large lights, adjusting its settings, but now he stood, the look of intensity on his face suddenly vanishing.

"Oh," he said.

Her heart dropped into her heels.

He was going to ask her to leave. She was just a lame girl who worked the cash register at Hardees. With sudden clarity, she realized how badly she needed this audition. She definitely needed it more than she needed her boyfriend. Maybe more than anything else she'd ever needed in all her nineteen years.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to plead with him for this opportunity. But before she could get any words out of her mouth, he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. Put your stuff over there."

Allie swallowed her words. He hadn't been thinking about throwing her out. Instead, he'd been distracted as he'd adjusted his equipment, and only just now did he seem to recognize that her arms were filled with all her stuff.

Relief washed over her.

As she piled her stuff into a corner of the room, her phone went off. It was just a text message, but Allie couldn't resist the urge to look. Maybe it was her boyfriend? Or maybe it was Marsha? She took the phone from her bag and stood to study it.

"What are you doing?"

Allie looked up from her phone.

"No." His voice was flat, firm. "Turn that thing off."

She stuttered out something that was half an apology, and half a request for a few more seconds to see what had come in on her phone. The look on his face made her rethink the request in her mouth. She put the phone to sleep.

"Power down," he said.

Allie had to think how to turn the phone off. Her fingers felt fat and unresponsive. Finally the phone made its turn-off chime, the screen turning black. She showed its dark face to him.

"Do you want to do this?"

Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead. She eagerly nodded her assent.

"I need you to be here, with me, in this room. I need you to be an active participant in your audition. Can you do that?"

Allie had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded again.

He laughed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

She looked at her feet.

He took her chin in his hand, gently raised her head, and looked in her eyes. He offered to help her and Allie felt herself almost swoon. She had never needed anybody's help so desperately. Setting his big camera down, he invited her to sit on the couch. He said that modeling was a lot like acting and suggested they do some improv to warm up.

Allie felt like a kid, overwhelmed with gratitude, eager to show him what she could do. She sat with her hands on her thighs, gazing into his eyes.

"You," he said, lowering his voice. "You're a puppy."

She grinned.

Her mouth fell open and she was just about to yip, when he held up a finger and twisted his lips into a look of mild derision. "No barking."

Allie bit her lip. Stung from his response, she looked at a point on the floor. She knew it was counterproductive to feel so hurt, but it was hard for her to hear that kind of criticism, especially when she wanted so very much to please him.

"Does a dog sit like that?"

An unreasonable bolt of anger shot through her. Turning to him, she opened her mouth.

He shook his head. "Puppies can't talk."

He was looking at her steadily, his gaze firm and confident. He wanted her to succeed. Her anger dried up as quickly as it came. Pulling her legs onto the couch, she sat on her haunches and shuffled her way towards him.

He put his hand on her head and she twisted herself around to lick his palm.

"Good girl," he said.

His praise felt like a warm shower. He ruffled her hair, and she nuzzled his forearm.

He closed his fist around a hank of her hair. "No more puppy."

She met his eyes.

"You're a dog now." He leaned forward. "A dog in heat."

She cut her eyes to the wall. A bolt of desire shot through her. She thought about her boyfriend, but then quickly pushed him from her mind. She closed her eyes.

The photographer stroked her throat with his thumb.

At the dog park, she remembered a big hound pressing his wet nose under her skirt. She moved her face toward the photographer's lap. Could she really do such a thing? One hand was on his thigh. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her nose into his groin.

"That's my girl," he laughed, gently pushing her head away.

She fought her way back.

"That's right, baby. A dog has to use her nose."

He had an erection. It shocked her to discover this, although she knew it shouldn't have. She held onto the pretense of improv as long as she could, but each time she moved her head into his lap, the illusion became a little more difficult to sustain. He would grab her head and rub the bulge in his pants against her face, then push her head away, all the while laughing and goading her on with talk of doggie behavior.

"Show me, baby. Show me what that bitch in heat needs."

She knew what he wanted to see. She wanted it too. Clambering up onto his thigh, she ground her crotch against his leg. It felt wonderfully dirty to ride him that way. Taking her shoulders in hand, he pushed her down his body so her crotch pressed against his shin. Her breasts rubbed his thighs, and her face was only inches from his crotch. He petted her head and whispered encouragement. He made it clear he wanted her to finish.

It took her a good ten minutes. She felt like an animal.

She had to marshall her wits, focusing entirely on herself, satisfying her own needs. Finally she felt herself slip over the edge. She suppressed all her little girl noises, trying to keep up the dog illusion for her modeling career.

When she finished, she was a girl again, feeling a little self-conscious.

She rolled off his leg and sat on the floor with her back to the couch. He moved next to her on the floor. He lit a cigarette and they shared it. He did most of the talking. He was all business, but in a kinder, gentler way. He lavished praise for her performance, but then quickly segued into criticism. She didn't feel so bereft about his criticism this time.

"When you answer questions on camera, you have to do more than just say yes or no. You want your personality to come through. As a model, you'll only be doing one or two things in each shoot, but those are the same things all the models are doing..."

Her mind felt muddled from the orgasm. What one or two things did all the models do?"

You understand?" he asked.

Allie nodded.

He made an exasperated face. "Allie?"

She scrutinized him, drawing on the cigarette. Hearing her name coming from his mouth pleased her immensely. It finally occurred to her that she'd done exactly the thing he'd asked her not to do. She laughed to hide her embarrassment and buy herself some time, smoke coming from her mouth. Replaying their conversation in her head, she repeated back the stuff about giving a full answer.

He helped her to her feet, swatting her bottom. "Take off your pants," he said.

Allie felt light-headed. Blood thumped in her ears.

Take off her pants?

He grabbed his camera and indicated where he wanted her to stand. Allie moved into position. Her legs felt stiff and unresponsive.

He pointed the camera at her.

She sat on the floor to remove her sneakers. He lowered the camera and said he didn't want her to remove her shoes or anything else, just her pants.

"The shoes are cute, just lose the pants."

She wiggled out of her shorts, standing before him in her panties. The cotton fabric at her crotch had a small wet spot from grinding herself on his leg. She held the shorts over her groin to hide the stain. Her heart raced and she felt dirty, so deliciously dirty.

He moved closer, the camera pointed right between her legs.

Every day she saw pictures of models in magazines wearing only their underwear, she rationalized. Tossing her shorts toward her pile of stuff, she ran her hands over her groin to hide her stain. She could feel herself getting aroused, which she feared would only make the stain grow larger.

"Did you bring any other panties with you?"

He knew, he saw.

Her mouth felt dry and she silently shook her head.

He continued to shoot her crotch. It felt dirty and wrong to discuss her stained panties with a man whose name she didn't even know. Suddenly Allie realized she hadn't answered correctly. "I didn't bring panties because I didn't know I would have to grind myself on your leg to audition," she said the words all in a rush. Good God, it thrilled her to say such a sentence out loud. Her scalp tingled with delight.

He chuckled and it made her feel like a star.

He had her tug the waist of her panties as high as they would go, making her mons and crack stand out in stark relief. He said she shouldn't worry about the stain in her underwear. He said it was the sort of thing that happened to all the girls, and that he often kept his studio stocked with emergency replacements, but for some reason he didn't have anything clean today. He said he would edit it out and had her turn to show her bottom to the camera.

Allie enjoyed all the attention for her body.

Posing this way made her feel incredibly sensual. She told herself that models were different from other workers. Modeling was a different kind of industry altogether. She remembered her interview with the branch manager at Hardees. They sat in the restaurants' plastic chairs and discussed her role sipping water from paper cups filled with ice. She would never grind herself on the branch manager's shin, or discuss with him the stains in her panties.

The photographer took her hand in his.

She allowed it.

He brought her hand up to her face. Unsure what to do, she held her throat.

"Put your finger in your mouth."

She did so.

"Wrap your lips around it."

His request seemed so dirty, so illicit. Allie felt her insides go all warm and mushy. Wrapping her lips around her finger, she sucked it. He was just talking about her finger, but his command came from such a deeply sensual place.

Her brow grew damp, her breathing labored.

He lowered the camera, studying her face. "Kneel down," he whispered.

Allie knelt before him.

He laid the camera on a stand next to him, then caressed her cheeks. He ran his fingers through her hair. His face held a neutral expression and then he smiled.

He looked like a saint, or maybe a movie star, or some mixture of the two.

As she was thinking he looked like a saint, he unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and then lowered his fly. His cock popped out. It was fleshy, pink, and uncircumsized. He stroked it twice, making it stand out from his groin. Dropping his pants off his hips, he picked up the camera and pointed it Allie.

"Whenever you're ready, baby."

Her face grew warm. She felt like such a perfect fool.

Of course.

He was a pornographer.

He was auditioning for adult models. And he wanted Allie to make a porn video with him.

It suddenly all made perfect sense. He kept spare panties in his studio in case the models soiled theirs. He said it happened to all the girls. Of course it did. Why wouldn't it? She probably wasn't the first model to climb onto his leg and pretended to be a dog.

He'd said all the models do the same one or two things.

He meant all the models suck cock.

They all fuck.

Of course they did. That's what adult models do. They suck cock. They fuck. He wanted her to be an adult model.

He wanted her to suck.

To fuck.

Allie took a deep breath.

She could think of two different ways to proceed. She could grab her shorts, all her stuff, and then race for the door. She could return home to her life. To her job at Hardees.

To Marsha.

To her boyfriend.

Allie blew the air from her mouth. It seemed like the right option, but just thinking about it made her feel horrible.

The other option was to go ahead and suck the cock. An intense pulse of desire shot down her spine and into her tummy, making a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. So many questions ran through her mind. Who would see this video? How much could she earn? She gazed up into the black lens of the camera. Looking away, she grinned. The photographer's musky scent filled her head. His cock was long and thick. Deep down she wanted to suck that cock, but it felt so wrong to have the act recorded.

And then, all in a rush, it occurred to her that James had sent her here.

James! Somehow the knowledge that James could imagine her as an adult model made her feel strong. They'd always had a playful relationship around sex. A cat and mouse game. One of the the first times he'd spent the night at her house, she'd snuck out of bed, opened her mother's bedroom door a crack, and then stood in the hall watching him fuck her mom. James had changed positions so her mother faced away from the door. Rising on his hands, he put his powerful torso on display for most of the fuck. The images from that night were seared into Allie's brain. He never let on if he'd seen her standing in the hall, but that's when all his playful teasing had started. Sly jokes about her boyfriend's needs and whether she was taking good care of him. Her relationship with James seemed fraught with sexual tension, but then after the betrayal at the Hollywood Bowl, James had held her like a father.

Without a word, she leaned forward and scooped the photographer's cock into her mouth.

He sighed deeply.

She wetted his entire shaft with her mouth. Holding his balls in one hand, she stroked his shaft with the other. Wet sounds came from her mouth. She did the work without looking up. She knew the camera was there, but pretended it was not.

He remained silent.


After he'd pressed the slip of paper into her hands, he'd given her bus fare and instruction on how to use public transit to get to the audition. Her mother had prepared breakfast and put it in a brown paper sack. Mom had trotted to the front door, thrust the bag into Allie's hands, wished her luck, then slipped beneath James's arm. They'd waved her off in the doorway, grinning.

Mom knew, too!

Allie gasped with surprise. She looked up, her eyes all big and wide.

"That's right baby. Look right into the camera while you suck that cock."

Allie felt so completely dirty. Her own mother wanted her to be an adult model. Had any other adult model in the history of porn ever received career help from her mother? A bolt of shame seared Allie to the core, and she hid her surprise by opening her mouth and placing the photographer's big cock inside. Her breath came noisily through her nose, but she kept her eyes locked on the camera lens.

While Allie struggled with the knowledge of her mom's complicity, the photographer explained to her that millions of men across the world would watch these images of her, most of them holding their cocks in their hands. Those men wanted to pretend she was sucking their cocks and eye contact made that illusion a little easier for them to sustain. Allie licked the underside of his erection, her eyes fixed on the black lens. It turned her on to think of so many men jacking off to images of her naughty performance. And now she had her answer about who would see these images.

Everyone would see them.


Allie rubbed the head of his cock on her lips. It should have terrorized her that so many men would see her performance. But it didn't feel terrorizing.

Her mom knew.

If your mom wanted you to make adult movies, then what did it really matter who else might know? It seemed a little bit crazy, but Allie's mother had always been very supportive with anything Allie had ever wanted to try. In the fourth grade, Allie had wanted to wear a princess dress to a class picnic in the woods. All the other kids' mothers had dressed their girls in practical outfits while Allie raced through the underbrush in pink organza and white silk. In her sophomore year, she had her belly button pierced before any of the other girls. Mom had been ready to let Allie get a tattoo, but she couldn't decide on the design.

"Do you like sucking cock baby?"

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