Two Can Play Ch. 10

It was a miserably wet day and Rachel was driving home after her day's work at the radio station. Her mood was attuned to the weather. The carnal delights of Amsterdam had faded into a distant memory and she felt in need of somebody in her bed. Since returning there had been nothing but trouble of one sort or another.

The friendship with Kate seemed to have waned and they seldom saw each other. Even when they did, conversation was restrained, their previous light chatter reduced to stilted information about what they were doing. Not very much, as far as Rachel was concerned, whilst Kate still seemed determined to throw everything up and go to live in Amsterdam.

Desmond was another irritant. He had approached Rachel when his wife was once more in Scotland, but she preferred not to go down that path again, good though it had been the first time.

Work had also proved a bind and she lacked concentration, leading to several fairly grave errors. Much to her chagrin, Desmond had hauled her over the coals for being slap-dash, and she felt he had taken particular delight in humiliating her after her refusal to have sex. She had to admit, though, that his criticism was justified and mentally kicked herself for her lack of commitment to the job.

Then her car broke down and had to be towed to a garage where the mechanic shook his head, informing her that it was a big job and the car would be out of action for at least a week.

"That's the bad news." He grinned as he saw her dismay. "The good news is that we'll give you the loan of a car."

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "That's the good news? How much will it cost?"

"To you, nothing. The insurance takes care of it."

She immediately brightened. "That's great."

"Thought you'd appreciate it."

Now she was driving along, windscreen wipers washing back and forth with a monotonous and irritating scratching sound and a peculiar bumping at the rear. It became worse and she gradually realised what had happened.

"Oh, fuck it!" she cried, hitting the steering wheel several violent blows.

She had a flat.

After pulling over to the side of the road she sat for a few minutes in miserable contemplation of what had to be done to get her moving again. Out in the rain, jack up the car, take off the wheel and put on the spare. She had never done it before and felt this was not the best time. Worse still, she had no coat to protect her from the downpour.

"Fuck it." This time she swore in quiet resignation.

Rachel reluctantly climbed out of the car and opened the boot.

"Oooooh!" It was a wail. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She stamped her feet in frustrated rage.

There was no jack.

She was hardly aware of the car slowly driving past and pulling up a short distance ahead. Still staring at the empty boot, her hair a bedraggled mess and mascara running down her cheeks, she suddenly heard a voice close to her.

"Need any help?"

She looked up and saw an elderly man with a kindly face standing next to her. He was dressed in a long raincoat and wore a sou'wester, both of them giving him good protection from the weather.

"I've got a flat and no jack," explained Rachel.

"No problem. I always carry one for just such an emergency."

"So do I," snapped Rachel, aware that he probably thought of her as a dizzy female. "This isn't my car."

The man smiled, ignoring her ungracious manner. "I suggest you get into my car where you'll be a little drier, while I do battle with the wretched wheel."

Rachel hesitated momentarily, unwilling to put herself into the hands of a total stranger, yet aware of her need for assistance.

"Thank you."

She quickly sought the sanctuary of the Samaritan's car, grateful to get out of the persistent rain. She heard the boot close behind her as the man took out his jack, but was unable to see anything clearly through the rain-streaked rear window. Settling down in her seat, she patiently began to wait until the job was done and she could be on her way home. The end of a perfect day.

Rachel's eye was caught by a magazine peeping out of the glove compartment and she pulled it out, hoping for something to occupy her mind. She soon realised it wasn't the kind of magazine to be read by women. It was a glossy almost entirely devoted to worshipping the female - undressed - form. She opened it. Leaving little - she turned a page - no, nothing to the imagination, these models were displaying themselves in full colour to anyone who cared to fork out £3.50.

Women's bodies had not usually been a source of fascination for Rachel, but her brief lesbian experience with Kate had shown her that anything was possible. As she flicked through the magazine she felt a small stirring deep within her. There were pictures of breasts, both large and small, thrusting off the page at her, and open crotch shots, some of them with the vagina lips pulled open. Although most of the models were obviously professional there were a couple of pages featuring amateurs. Some had wedding rings on display and not all of them had the flattering measurements of true models. The photography, with a couple of exceptions, was also sub-standard.

The boot slammed down and Rachel hastily tried to push the magazine back where she'd found it, but the driver's door opened and the owner climbed in. Water was pouring off his sou'wester and he vigorously shook it outside before throwing it onto the back seat and slamming the door shut.

"You're all ready to go."

"I can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure. I enjoy helping attractive maidens in distress." He grinned. "Even the less attractive ones." He indicated the brochure. "Find it interesting?"

"I'm sorry. I was being nosey. Just looking for something to read....to pass the time."

"No problem. There's nothing secret about it."

"Not even from your wife?" Rachel could instantly have kicked herself. What did she know about him? He could be divorced or, worse still, a widower and she'd made a crass, flip remark.

He smiled. "My wife? Oh, she knows all about it. After all, it's what pays the bills."

Rachel looked puzzled,

"I'm a freelance photographer for this magazine and several similar publications." He reached into his pocket and brought out a small leather wallet from which he produced a brightly coloured business card. He offered it to her. The name John Cane was embossed in gold letters and beneath it, in smaller print, was the legend: Photographer.

"That's you?"

He smiled. It was a nice smile. He must have been handsome when he was young; in fact, he was still handsome, though aged about sixty, with grey hair and a neat grey moustache. His clear blue eyes twinkled as he studied the girl in his car.

"That's me." She offered the card. He waved his hand. "No, no. Keep it. You may want to use it."

"Do you think I'm desperate enough to take my clothes off for twenty pounds?" She had seen the figure mentioned in the magazine. Rachel sounded as indignant as she felt at the suggestion.

John shook his head. "Oh, that's just for the sexy snaps taken by husband or boyfriend. You get much more than that for a layout. I'm always on the look-out for women attractive enough to fill a page."

Rachel frowned. "You mean.....I might have a layout?"

"You might indeed. You have all the right qualifications as far as I can tell. You should keep my card, just in case you decide you're interested."

"Thank you, Mr. Cane, for your help." Her voice was like ice.

Quickly climbing out, she slammed the door behind her and ran back to her own car. It was still raining and she scrambled in, then sat for a few moments trying to recover her breath and her composure. How dare that man suggest she should become a nude model in a dirty magazine! For that's what they were. She should have slapped his face. She should have....it was then she noticed his card still in her hand. She should at least have thrown it away; but there it was.

JOHN CANE

Photographer

*****

"Good God!" Kate was aghast. "I can't believe you're seriously thinking about displaying yourself in a nudie magazine."

They had met for a lunchtime tipple with the intention of patching up their dented friendship.

Rachel grinned. "Should be interesting." She took a sip of her gin and tonic. "I met this guy who takes the photos and he gave me his card."

Kate looked grim. "Did he fuck you as well?"

"No, he didn't. He's quite old."

"That doesn't mean a damned thing."

Rachel tried to be patient. "He didn't try and persuade me or anything, just gave me his card. Anyway, I thought about it for a couple of days then decided to find out more. I rang him, made an appointment and we met for lunch. He told me how it all works. We arrange a convenient time and I go round to his studio. He takes the photos and submits them to the editor who then decides whether or not to use them."

"Is the man genuine? This could be a scam to get you in a vulnerable position. You might be drugged and raped. Or carried off to be a slave in a brothel."

Rachel laughed. "You have a vivid imagination. After lunch he took me to his studio and I met his - female - assistant."

"That doesn't mean much," murmured Kate.

"He has the most marvellous equipment."

"I'll bet he does. And you know where he'll put it, don't you?"

"You have a filthy mind."

"And what do you think he's got? "

"Anyway, plenty of men have seen me naked in the past few months."

"That's not the same as displaying yourself in a magazine, is it?" Kate drained her glass.

Rachel grinned. "Fame at last."

"You'll set tongues wagging."

"I don't think we know anyone who'll read a nudie magazine."

"Somebody must. You never know who." Kate shook her head. "I've created a bloody sex monster. You were a sweet, innocent...."

"Comparatively," Rachel interjected.

"....young woman when I met you. Now I can't stop you getting mixed up in all sorts of seedy enterprises. My God, what have I done?"

Rachel smiled and consolingly patted her friend's hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm having a whale of a time."

"But for how long? Your way of life is not to be recommended. I predict dark happenings."

Rachel laughed at Kate's pessimism.

*****

Despite the implication that Rachel was only thinking about becoming a feature in the men's magazine when she talked with Kate, in actual fact the decision had been made. She made arrangements and went round to John Cane's studio at the appointed date.

"Mr Cane, how nice to see you again." They shook hands.

"There shouldn't be any formality between us. You're Rachel, I'm Johnny. You remember Debbie, my assistant." Both women acknowledged each other with a nod. "You're looking wonderful."

"Thank you.."

"Wardrobe. What are you going to wear?"

Rachel held up a small suitcase. "I've brought a selection."

"Sexy, simple, revealing and easy to take off. Those are the prime requisites."

"I'll show you."

"Right."

Rachel looked around, saw a sofa and went over to it. She opened the case and brought out several outfits which she spread across the furniture. "Those are my choices."

Johnny looked critically at the assortment of clothes.

"Um. This silver satin top....black panties....black suspender belt and stockings. Deb?" He looked towards the young woman for affirmation. She nodded. "Yes, that'll do nicely," Johnny affirmed. "Well, you toddle off and get ready while we set up the lights and cameras. No need to rush. You'll find a changing room through that door."

Rachel took half an hour carefully grooming and dressing herself. She stared at herself in a full length mirror, critically examining every line, shadow, fold and bump. The finished result was far from perfect, but pretty good. John Cane seemed to agree when she entered the studio.

"Marvellous!" he exclaimed. "Don't you agree, Deb?"

The assistant, altering the angle of a light, briefly looked over at Rachel and nodded. Not a sound had so far left her lips. The studio seemed to be crowded with equipment and the powerful lights made it very warm. A richly coloured red cover had been thrown over a bed which almost filled one side of the room.

"We could do with some jewellery round your neck, my dear." Johnny lightly ran his finger from one shoulder to the other, barely touching her skin; Rachel shuddered a little at his feather touch. "It's a mite too bare." He smiled. "Which may seem to be a funny comment to make when nudity is the name of the game. I've got some nice pieces here for when the occasion arises. Deb."

The assistant dutifully went across to a cabinet, took out a jewellery case and brought it over to Johnny.

"What do you think, my dear?" he asked Rachel.

She chose two pieces and put them on. The first was a short pearl necklace and the other a long gold chain, stretching down below her breasts.

"Just right. Shoes. We need shoes."

"Black high heel?" Rachel held up a pair.

"Excellent. Lie on the bed, if you please. On your side, facing this way and leaning on your elbow, I think." Rachel followed his instructions. "Good. Now, lift your right leg, keeping it bent, and hold it with your right hand just below the knee. Yes...yes. A little more pubic hair, if you don't mind." He gently adjusted her panties to uncover part of her crotch. Again his touch was light and incredibly thrilling.

Satisfied with her position, Johnny picked up his camera and looked through the viewfinder. He clicked, moved in closer and clicked again. A rapid succession of clicks followed. To Rachel it all seemed such a waste of film for one shot.

"Good. That'll do. Now, more or less the same position except...." he considered. "Put your leg over and down on the bed so your crotch is facing towards the bottom of the bed. Put your right hand on your thigh and......" He leaned across, gently slipped the strap of her top off her shoulder and carefully exposed her breast, the material falling just below her nipple. Once again his fingers barely touched her skin, but she felt a tiny pulse of excitement in her tummy.

Shooting from the foot of the bed and looking down at her, Johnny snapped away several times. He posed her in several different ways; on her back, on her front, sitting up, breasts bared, holding the suspender belt high pulling the tops of her stockings up, crotch coyly peeping at the camera and totally revealed. They finished with Rachel naked and the lips of her vagina parted allowing a good view of the entrance to her most private part.

"Excellent," announced Johnny. "The editor's going to love this. No doubt of it." He turned to his assistant. "Right, Deb. You can start packing up."

The silent one nodded and began to unplug the lights.

Rachel slipped on a dressing gown, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed now the photography had stopped.

"You were good, my dear," Johnny enthused. "Born to be a model."

Rachel smiled. "I don't think so. I enjoyed it, but once is enough. Have you been a photographer all your working life?"

Johnny shook his head. "I was an accountant in a large store for much of it."

"Really? Did you enjoy it?"

"No. Figures are boring; except your kind, of course. But, necessity made me stick it for thirty years."

"Did you retire?"

Johnny shook his head. "Shop closed. Made redundant. I received a little windfall as compensation so I decided to invest it in my own business."

"As a photographer."

"Exactly. That was ten years ago." He shook his head. "Ten years. Doesn't seem possible. Happiest years of my life, but gone all too soon."

"Why did you go from accounts to nude photography?" Rachel asked.

"The seamier side of my personality coming out, I suppose."

Rachel looked concerned. "Is it seamy?"

"Some people think so. My son, for instance. He disowns me. Thinks I'm a dirty old man. Perhaps I am."

"What does your wife think about it?"

"She accepts what I do, although I think she's more than a little disapproving and wishes I'd found another kind of business. But it's successful and that carries a lot in its favour. I'll get these developed in the next couple of days then you'll be able to see the finished result."

"I'm not too sure about that. A lot of those pictures must be very revealing."

"Of course they are; revealing your loveliness. I've photographed numerous women, amateur and professional models, and you can take it from me, you're one of the best."

"Do you really think so?"

"My dear," Cane took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. "You turn me on and that takes some doing these days." He put her hands onto his groin and she blushed a bright pink as she felt his deflated penis beneath the material of his trousers. "I've got trouble in that department these days. My wife has completely given up on me, but just occasionally someone has the magic formula."

Rachel looked across at Debbie who was busy rolling up the cables, briefly hesitated then pulled Johnny towards the changing room.

"Come and let me help you."

He looked quizzically at her but dutifully followed. As soon as the door was closed Rachel unzipped his flies. She reached inside the gap created, found his penis and exposed it. She kneeled in front of Johnny and ran her fingers along his stem before stretching out her tongue to gently flick around his glans. He gave a soft moan, but there was no reaction from his penis. She took it into her mouth, sucking and teasing it with her tongue; it remained flaccid and lifeless.

Johnny was leaning against the dressing table and, despite the lack of response from his penis, Rachel's ministrations were not going unrewarded. His eyes were closed and his breath came in short, sharp jabs. With her tongue flicking back and forth Rachel did her best to stimulate Johnny's penis, whilst feeling her own juices trickling down her thigh.

"I remember the first time," he gasped. "I was less than twenty - in fact, nearer eighteen. The woman was a little older, perhaps twenty-five or six. I didn't really know what it was all about"

"Where was this?"

"At a holiday camp. You know, the way they used to be with hi-de-hi and bingo and games and talent competitions, little chalets, set meals and large dining halls. I was working there and the woman was a camper."

Was there a little stirring of life in the penis? Rachel thought there might be.

"Were you in love with her?" Rachel asked.

"Good Lord, no! We barely knew each other. It was lust, pure and simple." Johnny laughed. "In broad daylight, too."

"In a chalet?"

"No, outside. There was a narrow stretch of grass between the wall of a theatre where I was working and an outer wall of the camp."

"There were walls?"

"Oh, yes, and gates. And security men."

"To keep intruders out?"

"Ostensibly, yes. But there was a general rumour that it was to keep the campers in."

"So you were on the grass with this woman."

"Yes. We didn't undress or anything like that. She pulled her panties off, lay down, lifted her skirt and spread her legs. It was my first view of a woman's fanny."

Rachel's nipples had hardened and her panties were wet with her own desire as she imagined the scene being described. Johnny's penis had shed all its softness. Her tongue licked along its length.

"I didn't take off my trousers. Just unfastened them and pulled them down to my knees. My cock was really stiff and hard."

The same symptoms were now apparent on the 60 year old man.

"I didn't have much time to think about anything. My cock poked about looking for her hole, but I just couldn't seem to get the two things lined up. Rather scornfully, I thought, the object of my lust took hold of my wandering member and located it in the right place. I sank into a wet, soft, silky heaven. I thrust and pushed and pumped for all of twenty seconds, I should imagine. I spewed forth sperm into the depths of that pulsating pussy and collapsed in a mortified heap."