If You Grow It Show It

If You Grow It Show It

My name is Jolene.  Yeah, I know, the old Dolly Parton song.  My folks loved it back in 1974.  Now to the present. I was in college at Long Beach State when my roommate brought home a 3X5 card from the school bulletin board advertising for models for the art classes.  The notice asked for nude models for figure drawing classes on campus and said no experience necessary, ten dollars per hour for nude models, inquire at art department office.    

I have always been up to a challenge, so if you dare me, I am just apt to take the dare. 

My roommate, Karen, tossed a card on the table in front of where I was eating and said, "You're always saying the body is so beautiful, so pure and not obscene, blah, blah, blah, so here's your chance to back that up with some action rather just big talk."

Karen and I were roommates, but we didn't agree on much.  We were political opposites and on social issues  we were even further apart.  Karen was very religious and I didn't go anywhere near a church. Let's just say, we weren't sisters, but merely roommates who would not do things together or even call each other friends.  We simply shared an apartment and slept in opposite bedrooms, just feet apart, but that was the extent of it.  Karen's announcement about the modeling job was more a dare or a challenge than it was meant to be a helpful suggestion.  It was meant as an "I bet you won't do this" kind of thing rather than  informative and helpful.  Like I said, we weren't friends.

I picked up the card and studied it, thinking it may just be what could help us earn the rent, which was a real struggle each month.  Both of us seemed just able to earn barely enough each month to just make the rent payment and not much more.  We were both full time students and it was all we could do to earn a little money, buy food, pay the rent, and still find time to study.  We both worked part time at the college dorm cafeteria.

I absentmindedly  put the card in my purse, not sure what I was going to do with it, but the challenge by Karen actually pissed me off just enough to motivate me to maybe do something with it.  I did, after all, feel there was far too much hypocrisy concerning nakedness, art, and sex. I felt society was far too rigid regarding what was acceptable, considered obscene, or indecent.  I did like to dress in sexy clothes, so it isn't a surprise that I probably am a bit of an exhibitionist.

I often went to the nude beach near Oceanside, so there was nothing about posing nude that I found inappropriate or unacceptable. Ten dollars an hour for just sitting, maybe reading as you did, sounded like easy money.  Perhaps Karen, inadvertently  actually just did us both a favor.  

The next afternoon I called the office at the art department and asked for an application.   A pleasant voice on the phone told me to come by the office and I could fill out the paperwork and be interviewed at the same time.  On Monday I went to school early and parked in the art department lot, then I went to the second floor, to the art department office and rang the bell. 

A woman in her fifties with her glasses on a chain around her neck greeted me and asked if she could help me. "I called about the modeling job, for the figure drawing classes," I said.  The woman who introduced herself as Helen and wore a dress right out of the 1960's took papers out of a cabinet and handed them to me with a pen.

"I am so happy you came in," Helen said.  "We just lost one of our models and we need one for Dr. Craft's class this afternoon.  Could you start today?" she asked me.  I was completely caught off guard by the suddenness of it.  I had planned to fill out the application, work up some nerve, then make a decision.  Starting that day was a bit overwhelming.  However, if I was serious, why not sooner than later.  If I wasn't ready, wouldn't it just prove Karen was right, it was all talk?

"Okay," I said, stiffening my spine.  "That would be fine."

Helen took the papers from me, showed me the classroom, and took me into the dressing room.  "You leave your clothes in here," she said.  "There are clean robes to put on for between poses.  Thank you dear.  If you sign these papers, we'll have your pay ready when you finish your day.  Payroll will have everything ready for you after class.  You'll be paid in cash, since it is out the department funds."

As we were walking out of the dressing room, she asked, "Have you ever done any posing, my dear?"  I told her I hadn't, but that I'd taken some art classes so had an idea about what is needed.  "That's wonderful, dear.  I thought I may have to fill in today," she said smiling.  "I used to model for Dr. Craft, but that was many wrinkles ago. 

"Class starts at four," Helen said, "so you'll want to come in about 3:45 so you will be ready when Dr. Craft needs you.  The poses will be for fifteen minutes, with a five minute break between each one.  He may want you to hold one for a few sessions of the same pose.  Of course, you know that if you had figure drawing classes."

I came back at 3:30, figuring I wanted to make sure I was on time.  Even though I had been naked with others at the nude beach, and had been an art student in classes of my own, my heart was pounding like a snare drum in a parade as I put my clothes in the locker and readied to become a paid nude model for the sake of fine art and rent money. 

True, I had argued with Karen and her best friend, Brenda,  about nudity, saying the body was not obscene to expose to others, and when I tried to explain why I was going to a nude beach where everyone got naked and were not concerned about exposing the "lewd" parts of themselves, they just could not understand.  "We just don't think the body is vulgar," I had asserted.   

"But God gave us clothes," Karen said.  "To cover ourselves."

"No," I said. "Clothes became necessary when people lived in cold climates.  The Church taught that parts of the body were obscene to keep people from reproducing nonbelievers.  They needed subjects so it was a matter of control," I said.  "They didn't want heathens reproducing."

Neither of them would ever consider going to anyplace as heinous as a beach where people all got naked, showed off their evil parts, and cavorted bare on the beach, since they had been raised in a religious environment and considered nakedness to be the work of the devil.   I was never going to convince them, so I stopped even trying.  

As I undressed for the figure drawing class, I was probably more nervous than I had ever been.   It was not that I was afraid of being nude in front of strangers, I had done that at the beach, but I guess the newness of the experience had me shaking in my lack of boots.

When the green light went on in the dressing room, the time had come to put up or shut up, and I put on the robe and walked to the back door of the art classroom and went inside.  Dr. Craft was a kindly looking man of close to sixty I'd guess, and he seemed more like a grandfather rather than an art teacher.  

In a very grandfatherly voice he welcomed me, introduced himself, and made me feel important and special, like he was so very grateful that I was willing to help him out in his personal problem of finding a model for his art class.  

He led me to the platform, helped me up, asked if I wanted anything to drink, then brought me water when I asked for it.  I took off the robe, he took it, and hung it on a peg next to the platform.  He described the pose that he wanted to start off with, then watched me try a few poses.  When he found one he liked, he asked me if I could hold it for fifteen minutes.  

"If you need a break before then, just stand up and we'll take a break whenever you need to," he said.  "Otherwise it will be every fifteen minutes.  Okay?" he said as if I was the one in total control.  

After I started the first pose, I looked around the room and studied the students sitting behind their easels, surveying me like I was a work of art, not a naked person doing anything inappropriate or indecent.  It made me feel very relaxed and confident of what I was doing.  I felt very special.  I had no doubts about what I had agreed to.

My mind wandered over many things as time went by, actually faster than I expected.  I thought about how scandalized Karen and Brenda would be if they saw me sitting naked in front of twenty-five strangers, although two of the artists were people I knew from my other classes.   Amazingly, the longer I posed, the more relaxed and comfortable I felt.  So much so, that when the first pose was over, I chose not to put on the robe, but walked around looking at the drawings naked, feeling as comfortable as I did without clothes at the beach.  

I believe my being naked and at ease made the student artists feel more comfortable with a naked young woman than they usually did.  One woman even said so.  "You being  so at ease about strolling around without clothes makes me more relaxed and feeling like it's more natural and normal.  I just wanted to thank you," she said.  

It made me feel good to have her say that, and they're being more comfortable made me be.  Sitting naked in front of them was far easier than I thought it would be.   Was there some excitement at being naked in front of people with their clothes on?  Absolutely.  So I guess there was an element of exhibitionist in me.

Before I left the studio, some put money in a hat for me.  There was twenty dollars from the college, for two hours of posing, and forty-seven more in the hat from the students.   "The students don't always give the models tips," Dr. Craft said.  "So that is a compliment to you," he said.   "You seemed to make feel more at ease."

When I got home that night I laid the money on the table in front of Karen.   "There is a good part of the rent," I said.  "Thanks for the tip," I added.  "This is compliments of the Long Beach State art department."  

I had begun a job that I liked, was not being on my feet all day, like my waitress job or at the college cafeteria, and the people were pleasant and Dr. Craft and Helen were sweethearts.  

My second class went as well as the first, but at the break one of the male students came up to me and asked if I ever did private projects.  I must have looked confused, because he said his camera club has nude photo shoots and they were looking for a new female model.  "It is just standard glamor photography," he said, "and it can be a few hundred dollars depending on how many show up."

He said sometimes they get twenty photographers, a few of them are women, and that can be $600 or so for the night.  "They are on the weekends, but five or six hundred for a few hours work is not bad," he said.  I couldn't argue with that.

The photography club held their photo shoots in a photo studio just off Wilshire, in a business owned by one of the members.  It had a front sitting area, a dressing room with bathrooms, and the photography studio that had a stage-type platform, a large area for the photographers, lighting set up that focussed on the stage and a changeable backdrop that covered the back wall.   

I was introduced to the group by the man who invited me, Brent, and there were three women present.  For some reason I felt better having the women there and I was asked if I minded looking at some of the costumes I may be asked to wear and take off in the course of the poses.  I began with a few standard nude sets: front, sitting, on my stomach legs up, and some typical glamour poses that are pretty standard.  

Brent came and sat down next to me at one of the breaks.   "The club wanted me to tell you, and there is no pressure, but depending on how comfortable you are with your sexuality, the more sexual the poses the higher the sitting fee," he said.  "A model can make up to $12,500 per night.  For sex shots the photogs pay up to five hundred dollars apiece.  Twenty-five members is $12,500.

"Do the women here do the sex shoots?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah.  Marilyn, the redhead, is the real pro in the porn category," he said.  "I will have her talk to you if you'd like, let you talk to her.  She is very talented."  I said I'd like that and he sent her over.

"I hear they offered you the porn shoot option," she said.  "If I didn't feel comfortable with it, I would do it myself, but I sell lots of stuff from the porn shoots, male and female stuff.  You could make good money doing porn," she said.  "And private shoots can bring in very big paydays."

"Private shoots?" I said.

"If a magazine assigns a project it would set a price for the layout and would be so much for the photographer and so much for the model. A model could get, depending on the travel and location, up to $25,000.   What's your name, honey?"

"Jolene," I said.

"You mean like... "

"Yeah, the Dolly Parton song.  My folks loved it," I said. 

"Well, Jolene, I wouldn't advise a girl to hook up with some in this business, but I only deal with the straight shooters.  You get an offer for a private, call me and I'll tell you whether to avoid them or not.  As far as the club porn shoots, if they weren't on the up and up I wouldn't be involved.  The club porn shoots are fine, no problem."

I went to Brent and asked him to ask the president if I could think about it.  "Sure.  Think about it, call this number before next week's shoot and let us know what you decide."

I had to do some serious thinking.  I did think sex was a legitimate industry and had no problem with women who participated in it.  I just had to decide if that would be me.  I could go from a student scrapping up the money for the rent to a woman able to buy her own place.    Did I want to get involved in the sex trade, or stay in modeling for art classes or a group of photo enthusiasts?   

I decided to talk to an old girlfriend.  Gail is a game-for-anything-type of girl, but she can also be a friend who will tell you just how she feels.  I called her up and told her about my art class modeling.  She was thrilled.  "You getting money for just sitting?" she asked.  I laughed and said I was.  Then I told her about the photo club shoot.  Again, she was enthusiastic.  "They offered me more money if I did porn," I said.  

"My girlfriend is a porn queen?" she said excitedly.  

"Not so fast, Linda Lovelace," I said.  "I haven't said I would." 

"Of course, you will.  Jolene, this could be big.  You could buy a new truck.  You could buy a fleet of trucks.   Don't tell me you are too good to do sex shots.  Sex is just fucking like everybody does.  Some of my best friends are porn buffs.  Porn is what makes the world go around," she said.  "Call them and tell them your friend says you'll take it."  

"So you think I should?" 

"Hell yes," she said.  "I think you'd be crazy not to.  Girl, you could be a porn star.  I know a porn queen," she said yelling into the phone.  "You need an assistant?" she asked.  

"You want to come?" I said.

"Come and watch you come?" she said and laughed at her own wit.  I told her she could come with me as my backup.  If I couldn't stay on the field she could be my substitute.  "My second team," I said.  

I called the number Brent gave me and a member of the photo club answered.  I told him who I was and what I wanted.  "Jolene, Jolene, Jolene," he said, repeating something I had heard all of my life. "Sorry," he said.  "I bet you've heard that all your life."  

I said that it was all right.  "Most people just have to get it out of their systems," I said.  

"You coming?" he asked, coming right to the point.  

"If you still want me," I said, playing coy.

"Damn right we want you.  You're the hottest model we've had in ages," he said.  I told him I would be there Saturday, and he said he was glad to hear that and told me he'd see me this weekend.  "For a porn shoot, right?" 

I told him yes and asked if I could bring a friend.  He said as long as she didn't expect to get paid.  "She'll be my backup," I said.  

"Okay, see you Saturday morning," he said and hung up.  

I called Gail back and told her I would pick her up Saturday morning.  She let out a hoot and we said our goodbyes.  I was glad, actually, to be having her come along.  Immoral support, I thought, smiling at my own joke.  

Saturday morning I pulled up in front of her place in Santa Monica.  I didn't even have to honk the horn, as she must have been waiting at the widow. "You wearing underpants?" she asked as she got in my 2010 pickup truck.  

"Nope," I said with a grin.  

"Is your seat wet?" she asked impishly.

"I am floating," I replied.  

We chatted on the way, about how much she wanted to tell her sister but swore she hadn't said a word.  I knew that would be hard for her.  She is a talker and hates to keep secrets longer than a New York minute.  When we arrived we met Brent and the club president, Carter Prescott.  We also were introduced to the photographer and his assistant.  The photographer was Julius and his assistant was Cynthia.  He was man of about forty, wearing a turtle-necked sweater and glasses on top of his head, and she was a bouncy young woman probably about twenty-five or so.  She wore tights, a really loose blouse, and sneakers.

Also present was the male model who was tall, dark, and sexy, who said he'd been in the business for ten years.  His name was Anthony and he had the bluest eyes I had ever seen and an ego to match his cock size, which was huge. He sat in a deck chair, nude, and read a book casually while business went on around him.  I am not sure if he was trying to look nonchalant, but he did seem relaxed.

There were also two "fluffers," whose job it was to keep Anthony hard, although he said he wouldn't need them. "I have never gone soft on a job yet," he bragged.  As he read his cock impressively hung across his thigh like a snake.  I am not good at guessing size, especially of cocks, but it looked impressive.

The book he was reading was Lady Chatterly's Lover, he said to keep his mind on sex, which I thought was strange with a room full of naked women, but who was I to doubt a veteran porn actor.  I remember thinking how am I going to get all of that in my pussy or mouth, but as it turned out, it wasn't that difficult to fuck or suck just part of it.  

Gail sat casually, her one leg crossed over her knee, leisurely like she was watching a flower show.  They had Anthony and I "get acquainted" for awhile on the bed, kissing and fondling like newlyweds.  They were not only taking stills, but Cynthia was also taping us to use as porn video footage for possible splicing into longer pieces.  

They started shooting seriously after he got hard and I got acquainted with his cock.  When he finally entered me, after some extended oral, it hurt at first but quickly got comfortable.  I had never been fucked by a python before, but the pleasure far exceeded the discomfort.  It was like being fucked by a garden hose.

The shoot went on for well over an hour, but the time went fast and we were done before I wanted it to be.  Finally, someone, I think it was Cynthia, asked if Gail would agree to some girl-to-girl shots and she looked at me and nodded.  They said they would pay her scale, which was $1,000.  

In less time than it took to agree she was naked and next to me.  I had never made out with another woman, but it was surprisingly sensual and sexy.  She liked tongue and I enjoyed it too.  When it got to the time to go down on each other we were both very ready.  Sex for the camera is a different kind of lovemaking, but it is very exciting as well to be making love in front of other people, like showing off to a room full of watchers.  

We were there until nearly seven, so we had had sex, lunch, and taken a few breaks for well over eleven hours.  We were keyed up but tired, and neither of us spoke much on the way home.  I dropped her off at eight, but we hit our second wind after that and stayed up until midnight reliving the day.  I decided to stay at Gail's and the next morning we "practiced" for future sessions.  She decided she liked it and chose to put her name in for some porn work.   That morning we ate pussy, then breakfast, then talked excitedly about our new lives.