The Seehofer Chronicles Vol. 02

"Hi, Rebecca. I'm Cindy, assistant to Mr Lethbridge. He'll be with us shortly. To be honest with you, this isn't really the sort of shoot that Fabien enjoys these days but he does owe a few favours. I hope you won't be too put off by his style. His bark is much worse than his bite." Assistant Cindy offered an apologetic smile.

There were so many questions Becca wanted to ask the approachable Cindy, yet experience had told her to remain silent and appear blasé about her situation.

One of Becca's principle talents was improvisation. Cornelius Denford might be her direct boss but assignments invariably came by way of her "pimp", Mary Weaver. Mary was on holiday, skiing in the French Alps and Becca could not help wondering if this morning's assignment was a "Denford Special". Becca and Cornelius seldom saw eye to eye.

The dressing room door abruptly swung open and Becca snatched up her head to catch sight of the man who had burst into the room with violent intent.

"Posture, posture, posture!" enunciated the full and mellifluous tones of Fabien Lethbridge.

Becca recognised the features of the man as seen on TV. He was taller than she had imagined. Somehow, his TV persona afforded the impression that he was slight of stature.

His facial features were large and explicitly demonstrative as demanded by work on the stage, imbuing him with an air of over exaggeration when making small screen appearances. His clearly dyed black hair was neater than she remembered and his wan makeup-free face offered him a more youthful appearance. She summoned up her mental data sheet and read his age to be forty-four years.

"Posture is everything!" repeated Fabien. "First impressions are everything, despite what the thought police would have us believe! Do you know an audience will love you or hate you in the first thirty seconds of a performance? If they love you, they'll forgive you, if they hate you... Well, you're fucked!"

Becca was surprised by his vocal oratory, not so much by the content, for his bombastic delivery was certainly to be expected from someone of Fabien's metier. No, it was the overt masculinity of the voice and the employed invective that so threw her. Disturbingly he read her thoughts accurately.

"I may be homosexual, Miss Seehofer, but that doesn't make me a raging queen! As a professional, I give the audience what they want, which is exactly what I'm going to exact, by hollow hook and craven crook, from you."

Fabien strode purposely around the seated Becca. The generous cut of his brown corduroy trousers billowed like Oxford bags and his thick white woollen polo neck jumper rippled as he swung his arms with military precision.

"Have you ever acted on stage?" demanded Fabien. Oddly, despite his assertive tone, Becca felt comfortable with the overbearing man. His deportment reminded her of a gym teacher when she had been at school.

"I once played the citizen in the fight scene of Romeo and Juliet; it was a very good role."

"Why do you say that," asked Fabien, genuinely interested to hear if the admittedly pretty girl before him had any interesting take on the minor role.

"Because what with the rehearsals and performance, I managed to miss three days of lessons at school." She smiled as she finished speaking and Fabien instantly recognised why the likes of Cornelius Denford would dislike her feisty nature.

Becca was to be sadly disappointed if she believed for one moment that her flippant comment would evoke a blasphemous reaction from the famous stage director. He remained pensively watching her. He liked her attitude.

"Do you recall the lines?" he asked.

Becca considered her answer. "Yes, I think so, more or less...," she offered tentatively. "There weren't that many lines to remember, or to forget, come to that."

"Recite them for me." This time, Fabien requested as opposed to ordered.

Becca cast a brief glance towards the mirror before speaking. Having quoted the three lines, Becca smiled, pleased to have recalled the lines so easily, be they right or wrong. They indeed were incorrect.

"How do you feel?" asked Fabien quietly.

Becca furrowed her brow. "Cold..."

"No, you stupid girl! What were your emotions as you recited the words?"

"I didn't 'feel' anything; I just said the words aloud."

"Were you not frightened?"

"'Course not!"

"Why not? A man had just died on the streets of Verona. Are you inured to physical violence?"

"Of course not!"

"Then speak the words with some feeling."

Becca chewed her bottom lip. "I thought you were going to photograph me with my kit off? It seems more like a bloody audition for the Royal Shakespeare Company!"

Again, she expected Fabien to bite back but he maintained his calm demeanour, so at odds with his TV alter ego.

"Being photographed is acting, Miss Seehofer. Only far more difficult. You are here to sell a story, to present a legend. You are here to shroud your soul in a blanket of fiction, to obfuscate and inveigle, to become impervious to your true self and feelings."

"I thought you just wanted to take pictures of my tits and fanny," declared Becca, prompting a laugh from Cindy, which Fabien again ignored.

"Acting is all about channelling emotion. So too is being captured on a Hasselblad twin-lens reflex."

"I appreciate your art, Mr Lethbridge. But in my line of work, I've seen things I doubt you could begin to imagine. I'm not an emotional person. Ask my shrink. Apparently, I suffer from arrested emotional development," stated Becca factually.

"I see. So if I was to do this..." Fabien took a long stride forward to stand in front of the seated Becca. Cupping his right hand, he leant forward and thrust his hand squarely between her legs beneath the folds of her coat and skirt. "... You wouldn't feel anything?"

Becca lurched to her feet, parting company with Fabien's groping fist. "What the hell was that!" screeched Becca, her face twisted in a snarl of feral fury. "You come one step further and I'll put you down, you fucking bastard!" Becca's martial arts prowess ensured that her ferocious forewarning was no idle threat.

Fabien smiled approvingly. "I think you'll find that was emotion, Miss Seehofer," grinned Fabien. "Please be seated. Now we have made our introductions, let me tell you what will happen over the course of the next several hours...

Fabien backed away a circumspect distance before readdressing Becca.

"I have been charged in preparing you for a photo shoot for the Danish magazine Skumle, which I'm told translates into English as 'lurid'. I don't think this Danish work has anything to do with Hamlet... I wouldn't go looking for the publication on the top shelf of your local newsagents. And lurid it certainly is. Explicit shots will be taken of your open nether regions, which I understand is new to you. Any questions?"

Becca did have many questions. She was an intelligent girl and knew from Denford's curt briefing the previous day that the magazine favoured by the Japanese man was not concerned with stick whittling.

Fabien Lethbridge had been correct. Becca had never been photographed nude. She discounted the various Polaroids that had been taken. Certainly, she had never posed for a professional photographer of the calibre of Fabien.

"Prepare me...?" she asked.

"Yes, the intended portfolio will be taken by someone used to pornographic shoots. I'm just here to get you used to posing."

She wasn't surprised that she felt few genuine qualms about the process, for she was an explicitly sexual creature at heart. Even so, she thought it a peculiar notion when considering that she was unusually grateful that her parents were not around to see any revealing and explicit images of their daughter.

Whether her parent had remained alive or not, the question of anonymity was addressed to a certain extent by the make-up applied to Becca by Cindy. Fabien's assistant was evidently a talented make-up artiste.

The Danish editor of Skumle appreciated that the Japanese would love Becca for being a natural blonde, especially when informed that the model was endowed with a luxurious mane of curly golden pubic hair.

However, for the shoot, the editor was looking for a distinctive heavily made-up look of dark eyeliner, metallic blue eyeshadow and the deepest plum shade of lipstick. It was a look that the pale-skinned Becca had never tried. The resultant look meant that even if her parents had lived, it was very unlikely that they would have recognised their daughter.

Dressed only in a red satin gown, aside from compulsory lingerie, Becca studied her reflection in the mirror. Although it was a look she would never have dared to attempt, she had to concede that she looked stunning. She wondered if Bunny, who often applied her make-up for assignments, could replicate the look in future.

"Fit...?" asked Cindy, peering over Becca's shoulder.

"As I'll ever be," answered Becca, aware of her escalating nervousness.

Cindy led Becca out of the dressing room and down the passageway to a door marked "Studio 1". The assistant maintained a stream of inane chatter throughout the journey, perhaps her way of putting Becca at her ease.

Studio 1 felt initially cloyingly warm after the modest temperature of the dressing room. Cindy abandoned Becca, informing her that she had "things to do".

For the twenty-three-year-old HM Government courtesan, it felt not unlike walking onto her imagined concept of a film set. She guessed some expense had been spent on the set of a comtemporary bedroom, not realising the studio had been set up for the shooting of an erotic film. Fabien was simply borrowing the staging, as the stage director would put it.

She spied Fabien adjusting the lights that illuminated a capacious bed and taking subsequent light meter readings. She stood awkwardly for a minute or so, feeling distinctly surplus to requirements.

"Ah, Becca, sorry...," announced Fabien as though only just becoming aware of her presence. "Please..."

He beckoned her over and she padded in her stockinged feet towards him, consciously avoiding the trip hazard presented by the spaghetti-like configuration of the various leads and cables on show. He placed an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. When he talked again, it was almost in a reverential whisper.

"Tell me, how do you like to go about it?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked a confused Becca.

"Do you like to work up slowly or just go for it?"

"How the fuck should I know? You're the expert...," asserted Becca.

"Okay, slowly then. See how 'warmed up' you need to get. Just sit on the bed for now and remove your gown so I can get some readings from your skin tone."

It wasn't as if Becca had not stripped off in front of a stranger before. Admittedly, that had always been as a precursor to the act of consensual sex. To reveal her body and sit impassively whilst someone measured the reflective properties of her skin just felt plain weird.

She guessed that Fabien would discern her trepidation as she untied the gown and allowed it to slip from her shoulders. The material bunched untidily around her clenched thigh.

"Posture, posture, posture, Miss Seehofer." Fabien repeated his mantra whilst standing a few feet from Becca, holding out his light meter and waiting for the flickering needle to settle.

Becca duly relaxed her shoulders and straightened her back, unusually sentient to her breasts that jutted with their familiar upward thrust, admittedly enhanced by the brand new black bra.

With the gown removed, the temperature within the room felt comfortably amenable to being naked. Fabien appeared to scan her body with the handheld device. Becca opined that the meter would reveal the 36-C proportions of her breasts and proclaim the twenty-four inches of her waist.

"Excellent," declared Fabien as though talking to himself. He walked away. She assumed it was to retrieve his Hasselblad but instead he picked up another bulky camera. "Just a test shot. Lean back on your outstretched arms, Becca."

She inclined her torso backwards and bore the weight on her arms. The camera flash startled her and by the time she had recovered, Fabien was peeling away the back of the resulting Polaroid snap.

Becca could not imagine what Fabien could possibly glean from just one casually taken photo of her underwear-clad torso and head. Perhaps there might have been a twitch in his pants had he not been gay.

Cindy rejoined Fabian and together they studied the image. The muted discussion carried on for a minute or so, prompting an intense debate that only ceased when Cindy strolled towards Becca. It took the blonde model several seconds to realise that the assistant bore something in her hand.

"Let's get this on you," smiled the approaching Cindy, revealing what Becca at first thought to be a dog collar. She caught Becca's puzzled frown. "Don't worry; it's just a choker that the editor would like you to wear in the main shoot. It's quite comfortable. You might as well get used to it ..." Becca picked up on the qualifying word "quite".

Whatever revulsion she bore towards the submissive collar she swallowed and sat up. Again, Rebecca Seehofer had been nude on several occasions when performing in tandem with another girl, usually with her colleague, Sally. However, usually they shared a mutual state of undress. Being the only undressed person in the room felt surreal, like the uncomfortable dreams that she used to experience as a teenager.

"Sit up, Rebecca...," enjoined Cindy amicably with a suggestive hand on the back of Becca's shoulder.

Becca complied and perched upon the edge of the bed whilst Cindy knelt behind her and buckled the studded leather collar at the rear of Becca's neck. Only when it was being fastened did Becca comprehend that a linked metal chain was attached to a loop at the front of the halter. She juddered when the links fell between the valley of her breasts, the metal shockingly cool against the warmth of her skin. The end of the chain coiled in the folds of her gown in her lap.

"There!" declared Cindy enthusiastically, revealing a certain fetish for bondage. "Pretty as a picture!"

Despite Cindy's reassurances, the collar felt anything but comfortable. The choker had been loosely fastened yet even so, Becca felt the disconcerting tightness around her neck. She could not understand how men tolerated the restricted practices of wearing neckties. She similarly recalled the family pet cat when she was a child and how said feline always managed to lose its pretty collar after only a few days worth of wear. She empathised with said pussycat.

"Okay, Rebecca," declared Fabien. "Let's take a few shots. Kindly stand up and remove the gown.

Fabien reeled off a series of shots with Becca standing in a series of angular poses. The black bra and panties were quickly dispensed with, leaving her wearing only a black suspender belt and stockings. And of course a chocker and lead, the latter being presented in a variety of demeaning ways.

The photographs were only what might be termed explicit by the standards of 1969 due to the display of Becca's thick mat of pubic hair that effectively concealed any revelation of her tucked away labia. Becca may have been naked but the shots, aside for publication, were intended primarily to allow her to familiarise herself with being photographed.

"Hop on the bed, Rebecca, lie on your... What's her best side, Cindy?" asked Fabien of his assistant.

"Definitely her right," declared Cindy with the benefit of her experienced eye.

"Left side please, Rebecca." Becca simply followed the authoritative direction of Fabien Lethbridge. "That's it. Now bend your right leg and lay it over. Let's see if we can get a decent shot... That's it... A little wider..."

Fabien crouched at the bottom of the bed and framed the shot around Becca's groin in such a way that it encompassed the blonde's elongated body. "Pout for me, Rebecca..." Becca wondered which lips she was supposed to pout but decided that he was referring to the facial variety. "Lovely... Look sexy for me, Rebecca..."

Miss Seehofer emoted something but she wasn't sure it was sexiness. She fabricated what she considered to be a suitable look.

"You are acting, Rebecca," chided Fabien. "Stage acting is all about exaggeration!" She responded by gesturing what she considered to be a ridiculous clown face. "That's it! Much better!" enthused Fabien. "On all fours now, Rebecca and thrust your arse up an out towards the camera. Head twisted as far round as you can manage... That's good."

Becca could only imagine the image recorded during the exposure to film of her pussy and arsehole.

"Okay, Rebecca, as you were... Now I want you to place to your hand between your legs and spread for me," commanded Fabien.

Becca laid back with head on pillow and place her hand between her spread-eagled thighs. She had never blatantly spread herself provocatively for anyone and it was with a moment's hesitation that she complied as instructed.

"No, no, no... That won't do," insisted the photographer. "Help her out please, Cindy." It took Becca a few seconds to assimilate what Fabien was suggesting. She thought she had parted her labia as instructed but clearly not to Fabien's satisfaction. A smiling Cindy abruptly appeared in Becca's field of view.

"Let me show you, Becky. You're obscuring the shot with your hands," stated Cindy.

Mirroring the model's attitude with her head at the foot of the bed, Cindy hiked up her denim skirt and revealed her knickerless groin. Cindy's pubes were long and without any distinct clockwork spring.

Unlike Becca, whose pubes adorning her vulva were almost invisible, Cindy's visible inner labial ridge and hooded clit were festooned with a forest of dark brown pubes that extended down to the tops of her thighs. Becca had never seen so much genital hair.

"Like this..." Cindy deftly demonstrated how to perform the required pink shot without blocking the camera's view.

The assistant effortlessly stretched aside her lips, fashioning an oval of pink and a distinctly raggedy hole that was her vaginal opening. The encircling ring of dark pubes that fringed the scarlet interior afforded the dissolute image with a bestial mien that left Becca ambivalent with regards to its allure.

Becca's attempts to emulate the assistant for Fabien's approval only elicited a grin from Cindy. "Not as easy as you think, is it? Let me position your hands for you."

Becca felt like an idiot. Surely any tart could spread her labia adequately for a camera? Her self-deprecating thoughts were put on hold by the touch of Cindy's hand on her genitalia.

Such were the first pleasurable sensations of the whole shoot. Becca felt her hands being positioned lower and Cindy's fingers parted the petals of her inner lips that were encouraged to unfurl delicately over the outer labia.

It felt to Becca as if she were gaping obscenely, which she guessed was the whole point of the shot. As Fabian had said, exaggeration was the key to obscenity.

The final set up for Becca's solo set was hardly subtle, at least in the mind of the model. Fabien had her sitting propped up against the pillow, her back against the headboard. With both knees bent and her thighs parted uncomfortably wide, she stretched her labia apart to produce what Fabien demanded as a respectable pink shot.

She doubted that the shot was very pink, for the region of her vaginal vestibule felt to be burning a fiery red. Fabien was kneeling on the bed. He took at least two body shots before focusing the camera directly upon her abject cunt.

The attentive Cindy repositioned Becca's hands to pull upwards, unhooding her clit so as to reveal the opalescent pearl.

With her vaginal vestibule so open to the elements, Becca wondered if the camera lens could pick out the opening of her urethra.