I was having my morning coffee when a knock on my back door startled me. Being new to the neighborhood, I approached the door suspiciously, wondering who it could be at six in the morning. I felt a sense of relief when I recognized the woman who lived next door.
"Hello neighbor," she said cordially as I opened the door. "I was beginning to think you didn't exist...I've been trying to catch you at home for a couple of days. Since you're new to the neighborhood I wanted to welcome you."
I held the door open. "Come in," I invited. "I'm sorry but I have to leave for work shortly. Can I offer you a quick cup of coffee?"
"Yes, yes, that would be nice," she gushed. "My name is Carol, by the way. I live right next door to you."
"Yes, I know...I mean I know you're my neighbor. I've seen you sunbathing in your yard. I'm Gretchen. Glad to meet you."
"Anyone who gets up this early for work must work in the city," she chided me. "It's six in the morning!"
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "But, you know...the train...it takes awhile....."
She took a sip of coffee. "I just happened to be up and noticed your light on. As I said before, I tried to catch you at home several times...you must keep long hours?"
"I work for a mortgage company," I said. "We've been working long hours. Lots of overtime...which I like...you know, extra money. Unfortunately it's beginning to slow a bit lately. But...you know, that's the way of the real estate business I guess. Are you one of those lucky housewives who gets to stay home with her children?"
Carol took another sip of coffee. "Oh no, not me. No children, no husband. But I do work.. I'm a photographer...I work out of my home. Work when I want to...well that's not exactly true. I have deadlines occasionally, but for the most part I pick the times I want to work. The great thing is I'm not running in and out of the city everyday. I couldn't do it. Trains too crowded...and the stand still traffic on the freeways...no way."
"Well, I don't have much choice," I said. "I have to work and it was the only decent job I could find. But I like living in the suburbs, a get-a-way from the rat race, especially on weekends. That's why I skimped and saved to buy this house."
"I know what you mean," Carol heartily agreed. "This is a nice quiet neighborhood. Not like the city. What a rat race living there. Hey, what time do you get home tonight?"
"About six, why?"
"How about coming over for dinner tonight, six thirty or so. I'll make us a nice get acquainted dinner. How does that sound?"
"That's very kind of you. Sure, I'd be glad to come over. I mean, how could I turn down a home cooked meal. Should I bring anything...wine maybe."
"I have wine," she said enthusiastically. "Just bring yourself."
"I'll be there," I said, "and I appreciate your hospitality. I don't want to sound like I'm running you off but I've really got to go. If not, I'll miss my train."
"I'll see you tonight then," she said as she arose to leave. "Have a nice day."
I arrived home a little after six, quickly changing clothes before going next door. I felt giddy. After living in the city for several years where paranoia dictates you keep to yourself...the less you know about your neighbors, the better off you are. Not having to eat a TV dinner would be nice too.
After changing, I hurried next door. Carol answered the door in a skimpy knockout dress, red, low cut...two thin spaghetti straps straining to hold in her ample breast. It was so short I could see the top of her thigh high stockings!
"Wow," I gasped as she held open the door. "Was I supposed to dress for dinner also?"
"No, oh no," she laughed. "I had some business to take care of today which required more than a T-shirt and blue jeans. I can change if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Oh no," I said emphatically. "It's a beautifully dress. I wish I could wear something like that."
"Oh, it's not an expensive dress," she said. You could afford this....."
"No no," I said, correcting myself. "What I meant was I wished I had the nerve to wear a dress like that. It fits your personaliy. I would be too self conscious. I'm sure you don't have a problem with that."
"You have a great body," she said. "Why in the world would you be self conscious? By the way, would you like a drink?"
"A glass of wine would by nice," I said.
As she poured the wine she repeated her question. "Why in the world would you be self conscious?"
"I don't know," I answered. "I'd just feel so out of place. I've always had a problem wearing anything too revealing. My mother was rather strict about my dress when I was young. Maybe that's why...I don't know."
She handed me a glass of wine, ushering me into her living room. The room was very inviting...so comfortably furnished I felt right at home.
"Listen Gretchen," she said. "With your body and looks...believe me, you'd have nothing to worry about. What are you twenty two, twenty three years old?"
"Thanks," I said beaming. "I'm twenty nine. Believe me, I don't feel twenty two. And since my divorce...uh...sometimes I don't feel very attractive."
"Why would a divorce effect how you feel about whether you were attractive or not?" she asked.
"Because he left me for another man if you can believe that. My mother warned me...I remember her saying; "Gretchen, something wrong with that man" but silly me, I married him anyway. Turned out she was right."
"Well, you shouldn't let it effect you," Carol said. "Believe me, I'm sure he was like that way before you marred him. And, in my opinion, you shouldn't let your mother influence how you dress...not now, anyway. I mean, after all, you're twenty nine...."
I laughed. "I'm sure you're right. When I was in High School I was a cheerleader my Junior and Senior years. I wore the longest skirts on the squad. I took a lot of good natured teasing."
Carol laughed. "How about let's eat. I hope you like it. It's a recipe that Paula from down the street gave me. You'll like Paula when you meet her. In fact you'll probably meet most of the women in the neighborhood here. Since I'm the only single woman around here, most of the them drop in from time to time just to get away from their husband and kids. Their oasis, so to speak."
After dinner we had another glass of wine. The conversation was pleasant enough...until she began asking me personal questions...like how I was getting along financially...did I ever feel a need to make extra money.
"Why are you asking me about my finances?" I asked. "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"
"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "Just that...well I'm always on the look out for extra models. Something for you to keep in mind. Another glass of wine?"
At work the following morning, my supervisor asked five of the most recently hired employees in to his office. He had bad new for us. We were all being laid off due to a slow down in mortgage request.. Something about rising interest rates and a slump in the housing market.
I actually understood...I hadn't had anything to do of any significance for a couple of weeks. But understanding didn't make me any less frightene about losing my home...a home I had scrimped and saved to buy. How was I going to make my mortgage payments?
I spent the afternoon calling other banks and mortgage companies to see if there were any openings available. Most of them were cutting back also. By the end of the day I had a knot in my stomach and a splitting headache.
Just before leaving for the last time, my supervisor, Mr Colbert, approached me with my final paycheck. I didn't open it until I was seated on the train. My headache magically vanished...inside the envelope were two checks...my regular pay check and a three month severance check. I was elated. With the severance check, and my savings, I now had some breathing room. If I was conservative, I could keep up with my bills for five or six months. The knot in my stomach dissolved away...
The following morning, Saturday, Carol was knocking at my back door again. I yelled for her to come in.
"How is it going?" she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Haven't seen you around for a couple of days."
"Things could be better," I said dejectedly. "I was laid off from my job. I've been going through the help wanted ads but there isn't much out there now."
"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. "That's a tough break. Especially after buying this house and all."
"Yes, well I can last for a little while. I should be able to get something somewhere. Sooo...what are you doing today? Going shopping or something?"
"No, as a matter of fact I have to work this afternoon. I have an all afternoon photo shoot to do."
"Well, I'm glad your still working," I said sarcastically. I quickly apologized. "I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself."
"Forget it," she said, "and if you wouldn't feel offended, I could probably help you out with a little work. At least it's something to consider...to think about it. You certainly don't have to make a decision right now."
"Really," I said. "You mean the photo thing you were talking about the other night?"
"Yes, that photo thing. It pays pretty good."
"Like...like how much...how much is pretty good?" I asked curiously.
"I could pay you $500.00 for a two hour session," she said. "There's varying degrees of payment...for example, videos pay more than still photos and...well content makes a difference also."
"You have to be kidding," I stammered. "$500.00! That's more than I was making a week. Okay...what's the catch? That's a lot of money for only two hours work. What kind of pictures do you take? Is it for advertising, catalogs or something?"
She laughed. "Not quite," she said. "I take nude pictures...fantasies...mostly fetish stuff."
She noticed the puzzled look on my face. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about do you?" she said.
"No...but all I needed to hear was the word nude. You've got to be kidding! You're taking...you're taking nude pictures right next door to me? Pornographic pictures?"
"Hey, it's pays good, girl. Don't be too quick to judge. And listen...I made the offer, you don't have to do it. I just thought...."
"I could never, ever pose nude," I said emphatically. "I guess I should appreciate your offer though. I just can't believe you're doing it right here...in the middle of this nice neighborhood!"
"Well I don't advertise it Gretchen. It's in the privacy of my home. Anyway....."
I was still curious. "Who do you sell them too...I mean do you sell to magazines?"
"I have sold to magazines," she said. "Usually though, I sell to private parties through my web site. They e-mail me, place an order, usually something special...something they can't find anywhere else."
"I could never do it," I reiterated. "No way. I don't know how any girl could pose like that. Do you have a studio...you know...props...?"
"Yes, I have a great studio in the basement," she said proudly. "I've been doing it for three or four years...and I love being my own boss. Like I told you the other day...it beats driving into the city everyday and living by the clock. I set my own time when I work."
I poured us another cup of coffee. Although I knew I would never pose for her, it was titillating to listen to her talk about it. Fetishes...fantasies...I didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
"Listen," she said, "Why don't you come over this afternoon and watch. You might find it interesting. I have a short, three hour shoot to fill an order. And afterwards I'll take you out to dinner. How's that sound?"
It did sound interesting...and what would it hurt. "Sure, why not," I answered. "Certainly sounds more interesting than sitting around here brooding. And you're on for dinner. A good restaurant always cheers me up."
That afternoon, as I walked next door, I experienced a strange, guilty feeling...as if I were going to a porno movie and everyone in the neighborhood was watching me.
Carol was sitting at her dining room table with another young woman, both sipping on wine.
"Come on in," Carol said invitingly. She introduced me to Paula. "Paula lives down the street. "She's my model today."
Carol handed me the bottle of wine. "Here, make yourself useful," she said. "We have to get downstairs so Paula can get herself prepared."
Her studio was impressive. One end of the basement was set up as a living room, completely furnished with a sofa, chair, coffee and end tables. The other end was set up as a bedroom. She even had a small kitchen.
And camera's...there were cameras everywhere. Still cameras, video cameras...and lights...all kinds of lights. She had one hell of a set up. It appeared very professional to me.
Paula went off to a small dressing room to prepare. Carol began setting up her equipment. Apparently it was to be a still camera shoot.
In a few minutes Paula appeared, dressed in a plain cotton dress and heels. Carol instructed her to act like a typical housewife. She posed in the kitchen fully clothed, faking cooking at the stove. I became extremely uncomfortable when she lifted the hem of her dress, showing her panties. Tease shots, that's what Carol was calling them. As she slowly undressed, it was hard not to appreciate the fabulous body she had.
Carol, taking pictures like mad, shouted out instructions..."lie across the table...spread your legs...."
When Paula removed her bra and her firm tits fell into view, I gasped. I glanced over at Carol. She was staring at me with a strange look on her face. I turned red with embarrassed.
Paula disappeared into the dressing room again. When she re-appeared it was hard to believe she was the same girl. She completely transformed herself from a housewife to a typical young teenager coming home from school.
She was braless, completely filling out her tight white sweater. The rest of her clothing, a dark blue skirt and knee socks, reminded me of a schoolgirl uniform. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail.
Carol had her lie down on the bed, the cheeks of her ass peeking from under her cute little skirt, her panties lewdly bunched up in the crack of her butt. She was so sexy, dressed as a little girl, I thought pictures like this must surely be illegal.
As before, she eventually removed her clothes, one piece at a time. Carol must have taken two hundred pictures of her.
After the set, they took a break. We all retired to the fake living room where I poured the wine. I was extremely uncomfortable with Paula sitting next to me, clad only in her white knee socks. I found myself staring at her large breasts, her nipples extended and hard. I became self conscious of my own nipples growing erect. I didn't dare consider one thing had anything to do with the other.
"I offered Gretchen a job posing," Carol said to Paula. "She thinks she's to shy to pose in the nude. She has a hell of a body though, don't you think?"
"She'd be great," Paula said. "You should give it a try, Gretchen."
"No way, I couldn't do it," I protested. "But I'm certainly impressed with you. You're really great at it. And you have a fabulous body. It's unbelievable how young you looked in that second set. I would think pictures like that might be illegal."
"Oh, no, don't use that word around here," Carol said laughingly.
Paula, once again, went into the dressing room. This time she came out in thigh high leather boots, a leather bra...so tight her breasts were spilling out. She posed for about ten minutes with a whip in her hand.
Carol spoke up with a suggestion. "I could really use you in this scene, Gretchen, And you don't have remove your clothes. I'll pay you $100.00. How does that sound?"
Hundred dollars...fully clothed! By now the wine had clouded some of my moral inhibitors.
"What would I have to do," I asked.
"Come here, let me show you," she said. She pulled a short rope from the ceiling and hooked the ends around my wrist. She then pulled the rope, raising my arms straight above my head.
"There, that's all there is to it," Carol explained. "Paula will act as if she's whipping you. All you have to do is squirm around, show some pain and suffering on your face. Can you do that?"
"I'll try." I said. I didn't think I sounded very convincing.
As Paula stood behind me, Carol, clicking away, gave me instructions to move my hips around.
"Act like the crop is whipping your ass," she shouted at me. "Move around...make believe it hurts."
I tried to follow her instructions. I guess it wasn't good enough for her. I could tell she was getting angry.
"You have to show some pain in your face," she shouted. "It has to look realistic. Tears would be good."
"I'm just not good at this," I said. "Just let me down...you'll have to get somebody else."
"You're good enough, honey," she said. "All you need is some incentive. Believe me, you'll thank me for this later."
She nodded to Paula. Whack! Paula whipped me across my buttocks. I screamed out in pain.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed.
Whack! Another blow from the whip. Real tears began to flow. My hips and ass were moving just like Carol wanted...and it wasn't an act.
Carol was snapping away as Paula lashed me four or five times. It hurt terribly and...and I cried like a baby.
Finally...finally it was over. Paula helped me out of the rope.
"I can't believe you had Paula do that to me," I sobbed. "That whip really hurt."
"But I got some excellent pictures." Carol boasted. "And you made a hundred dollars for fifteen minutes work. Does that help make the pain go away?"
I didn't answer. She had a point...a hundred dollars. Not bad for a couple of whacks across the ass.
But something I didn't understand. Why were my panties soaking wet!
Carol's choice of a restaurant was excellent, a laid back seafood place that specialized in Halibut, fried, broiled or baked. We didn't talk about the photo shoot at all, mostly personal things, things I hadn't thought about in years.
When we returned home she invited me in for one last glass of wine. I knew I was over my limit, but tomorrow was Sunday. Actually, it didn't matter...I didn't have a job to go to.
One more drink turned into several as Carol continued pouring...I couldn't seem to empty the glass.
Carol returned from the bathroom and sat next to me on the sofa. "You know, I got the distinct impression you enjoyed our little photo session today Gretchen. Am I wrong?"
"I thought it was interesting," I said laughingly. "And Paula was very nice. I liked her. I liked her a lot."
"That's not what I'm talking about," she said. "I'm referring to the little part you played. I had the feeling you enjoyed your participation more than you let on."
"Why would you think that?" I said defensively. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. "Getting my butt whipped. Who would enjoy that?"
She picked up a camera from the coffee table and began snapping pictures of me.
"Stop it Carol, I giggled. "Your embarrassing me. I don't like my picture taken, especially when I'm not prepared. I look a mess right now. Anyway, you can't sell pictures of me fully clothed."
"I could with you hanging from that rope," she said. "You have that look, that submissive look that porno lovers adore. Let's go downstairs and I'll hook you up and take a few of you just hanging there. I'll give you another $50.00. How about it?"
"You'll give me another $50.00 to hang from that rope again! Are you serious?"
Against my better judgement I considered her offer. The wine certainly lowered my inhibitions...and a total of $150.00 for the day was tempting.