The Making of Monique Pt. 01byJericoKnight©
Darian settled onto a bar stool and signaled for a cognac as he let his eyes flicker over the rest of the bar's inhabitants. The crowd was young tonight. Too young, he thought sourly as he swirled the brandy in his glass and eyed the pair of young Asian girls flirting with the bartender.
"I am a dinosaur," he sighed, taking a long sip as he pale green eyes flicked past them to land on a blond boy in a UCLA sweatshirt making a beeline for the girls. His lips curled into a grin as the older man shifted on the stool, making sure he had a good vantage point for the upcoming show. In his experience, hitting on the hot Asian girl was almost never a good idea.
"Nei ho mah," the boy bellowed at he approached the girls.
The taller of the took glanced at him dispassionately and lifted her and in a lazy wave as she answered "Hoh, hoh. Do jeh. Nei na?"
The boy looked lost, his eyes losing focus for a moment as if it had never occurred to him the girl might answer in Chinese.
"Uh ... do you speak English?" he asked, "English?"
Darian's lips curled into a wolfish grin as the girl replied that she did, in fact, speak English.
"Ngoh sec gong ying mon," the girl replied.
Her friend was less polite. Covering her mouth with her fingers, the second Asian girl lowered her eyes and giggled in a very nice impression of a Japanese geisha before cheerfully replying "Pok gai."
Coughing to cover his chuckle, Darian took another pull of cognac, only to have the brandy burn though his nostrils as the girl added, "Lei da yun fei gae mm sai sou."
He missed the rest of the conversation as the bartender came over and handed him a bar towel to clean up with. Wiping his face, Darian waved the bartender's helpfulness away.
"I'm okay," he said. "Serves me right for eavesdropping."
Grinning, the bartender leaned closer and asked, "What were they saying?"
"I told him to go die in the street and suggested he doesn't wash his hands after he masturbates," a female voice answered in perfect, unaccented English. "Do you always go around eavesdropping on Chinese girls?"
Making a face, the bartender beat a strategic withdrawal as Darian turned to face the girl.
"Not always," he said. "Sometimes I eavesdrop on Vietnamese, Hispanics, Hindustanis and Persians. But they rarely make me laugh like that."
The girl's eyes narrowed slightly and she nodded as she took in Darian's 6'3", 225 pound frame and neatly trimmed mustache and goatee.
"So you're a language dork and not a rice king," she said with just a hint of a smirk. "The Uncle Ho beard confused me."
Bowing politely, Darian took in the small, Asian girl's long legs and slender frame. Long hair with a slight curl at the fringes framed a lovely face that bordered dangerously on cute.
"Have a drink with me," he suggested.
"Why would I want to drink with an old white guy?" she asked, features serious except for the hint of mischief behind her dark eyes.
"Because I am buying, college students are always broke and we're already talking so I'm clearly not making the offer to hit on you."
Waving to her friend, the girl hopped up onto a stool and nodded agreeably.
"Yeah, I suppose that makes sense," she said. "I'll have an apple martini."
Signaling for two more drinks, Darian smiled and asked, "Have you ever done any modeling?"
The girl laughed and shook her head, "Okay, now you're hitting on me."
"Yes," Darian nodded. "Yes, I am. But the question stands. I've got a commission to fill and I need a young Asian model. No nudity involved and it's for a respectable, if somewhat embarrassingly Chinesey product."
"I'm not holding up chopsticks on an ad for egg rolls," she said.
"All you have to do is lie down on a bed and rest your head on a pillow," Darian said, holding up a hand to stall the next questions. "It's a new import from China ... silk pillows filled with tea leaves. The scent is supposed to aid in relaxing sleep. White people will go ape shit over them."
The girl pursed her lips, seeming to think over the idea. Tilting her head, she studied Darian for a long moment before asking, "I don't have to wear slutty lingerie?"
"Red silk pajamas with long sleeves and a mandarin collar," Darian said wryly as he slid a business card onto the bar. "The most offensive part is the little gold dragons on the PJs. They want you to look like a real China girl. It pays cash. My studio is just around the corner and you can have your friend come watch if want a bodyguard. Tomorrow at 3 p.m.?"
The girl nodded as she tucked the card into jeans. "I'll be there."
"Good," he said. "Don't worry about makeup or clothes. I take care of all that at the shoot. I'm a bit of a control freak. So just show up anyway you're comfortable."
Sliding money onto the bar for the drinks, Darian was turning to leave when the girl asked, "Hey, you speak Cantonese because you have Chinese clients?"
A grin pulled at the older man's lips as he fell into a fairly decent Antonio Banderas impression.
"No. I speak the Cantonese because if a language is spoken by beautiful women I know enough to ... how do you say ... ah yes ... get my face slapped."
The wadded up napkin hit Darian between his shoulder blades as he heard the girl giggling behind him. Raising his hand he waved with his back to her.
"Joi jin, sui jeh," he called out, realizing he'd never gotten her name.
* * * * *
He was pleasantly surprised when the girl actually showed up at 3 p.m. She had come alone, shrugging when he observed she must have a trusting nature.
"You've got an ad in the yellow pages and a gallery in your waiting room," she said. "I doubt you're selling girls into slavery out the back of the shop."
The man's hand reached out, fingers closing around her jaw as he gently turned her head from side to side. The girl watched him curiously but didn't resist. Other than a moment of surprise when she realized how large his hands were and how easily one could cover her face, she seemed almost relaxed.
"Good," he murmured approvingly. "You're not wearing any makeup at all. I was afraid you would be."
"You said someone would do my makeup here," she said. "So I thought you'd just make me take off anything I was wearing anyway. I hope you still like the way I look without it."
Smiling, Darian brushed the back of his fingers along the girl's cheek, letting them stroke her skin as they trailed their way back into her hair. The slight shiver that went through her body as he touched her throat was barely perceptible.
"Good girl, he said. "You've got a good head on your shoulders for this kind of work. You're quite lovely without makeup. It makes you look younger, more innocent. I don't want to put much on you. We'll take a look after you change into this."
Moments later, the girl was back in the studio, dressed in a pair of full length red silk pajama pants and the long-sleeved red silk top Darian had warned her about.
"I look like one of those porcelain Chinese girl figurines you find in a Toscano catalog," she said as she slipped into a chair before the vanity table.
"That's the point," Darian said, slipping his hands into her hair and adjusting the angle of her head until he was happy with the way she sat. "You're an adorably exotic little China doll getting a good night's sleep on this giant silk tea bag."
The girl giggled, but continued to hold the position he'd placed her head in.
"You're a very good model," Darian murmured. "Or just a very obedient girl."
"A little of both, maybe," the girl grinned.
Producing a small brush, Darian selected a tray of powders and began mixing them.
"You've got great skin," he said, gently caressing her cheek with the brush. A soft scent of ginger and bay leaves reached her nostrils. "This is mainly to give you a bit more flattering tone when contrasted with the dark red of the pajamas and pillow. Colors always shift a bit on film so your skin needs to be just a tad darker than its normal shade."
She shivered again as he caressed her long slender throat with the bristles. And it went on like that. Her lips were outlined in a dark red with a brush an then filled in with a slightly paler red. The girl felt her nipples growing hard as Darian rested his forearm on her chest. The intensity of his concentration as he carefully caressed every inch of her soft, full lips was arousing her. Her eye makeup was just as painstakingly done.
By the time he was brushing her hair, the girl was squirming slightly in the chair. Her small chest began to rise and fall more markedly as the brush worked its way slowly through the length of her hair.
"This is a great color," he murmured as he switched to a comb with long, fine teeth. "I like the honey highlights. And I love the way it feels."
The girl had forgotten to breathe as the long, soothing strokes of the comb through her hair relaxed her. Completely zoned out, she had allowed her body to respond on its own to the stranger's touch as he pampered her, carefully reshaping her appearance to fit his own ideal of beauty.
At one point, she had pressed her shoulders back against his chest, lolling her head back and sighing happily. She whimpered as she felt his breath on the nape of her neck and his lips brushed her ear. The girl actually jumped as his voice brought her back to reality.
"Ready to get in bed?" he asked softly.
Grateful for an opportunity to hide her confusion, the girl hopped out of the chair and padded to the four-poster bed Darian had set up for the shoot. Perfectly manicured nails traced the carvings in the cherry wood posts.
"Isn't this bed too western?" she asked, letting her long, dark hair cover her face as her blush faded. "It seems more colonial than Asian with the mosquito netting and fluted columns."
"You've got a good eye," Darian nodded as he checked his camera settings. "I'm shooting for that East/West colonial mix. Buy this pillow and you, too, could have your own adorable Asian sex slave."
The girl paused and glanced down at her pajamas. Raising an eyebrow, she turned back to the photographer and said, "This is how you dress your sex slaves?"
"Only the shiny new ones," he chuckled, snapping a quick shot of her as she leaned against the bedpost. "You know the fantasy about Asian girls."
"No, I don't," the girl said, tilting her head to look up curiously at the older man. "Guys don't really talk about things like that in front of me. I mean, it's really obvious when a guy has yellow fever but I just think he's weird and creepy. I don't really know what he's thinking. And most guys won't tell me because they think I'll get offended."
Darian nodded and took another shot as he gestured at the pair of red silk pillows against the headboard. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he admitted. "Pick up the pillow and hold it against your cheek. Think of a cat rubbing against ... whatever cats rub against."
The girl giggled as she began playing with the pillow, her eyes dancing as she purred against the silk.
"Well, come on," she said. "Tell me. What's the deal with yellow fever? What are you pervy white guys thinking when you look at me?"
"I'm not telling," Darian said, moving about the room to try different angles. "Besides, it's disgusting and dirty and racist."
"Tell me," she shouted, bouncing on the bed and beating the pillow on her knees. "You've got me all curious now."
Rolling his eyes, Darian gestured for the girl to lie down, "It's just the standard stuff, that you're naturally submissive, you're born knowing how to suck cock, those tight little bodies are designed to squeeze cocks, you've got sideways vaginas ..."
"What?" The girl sat bolt upright in the bed and demanded, "We have what?"
Capturing her glare on film, Darian chuckled. "Sideways vaginas. Instead of going up and down like normal women, Asian vaginas go side to side so they get tighter when you spread your legs." As the girl's mouth opened and closed in wordless disbelief, he nodded solemnly. "It's true."
"It is not," she snorted, throwing the pillow at him. "That's disgusting."
"Prove it," he grinned, tossing the pillow back. "Take of your pants."
"Sure," the girl said, rolling onto her back and pulling her knees up to her chest as she shimmied out of the red silk pants. As her black panties came into view, she stuck her tongue out, spreading her legs wide to flash the panties before sitting up again with her feet tucked under her bottom.
"Cheater," the photographer grinned. "You know I was expecting you to be bare. Now, lay back down and pretend you are asleep. Put your hand on the pillow next to your face." He frowned as the girl complied. "Stop giggling. You're supposed to look sweet and innocent, not smirky. The fantasy is that you're a sweet, innocent submissive Asian virgin who'll just become a complete cum-addicted whore with your first taste of white cock."
This, of course, only made matters worse. Snorting and rolling her eyes, the girl rolled onto her tummy and gazed at him through the veil of her hair. "Yeah," she said. "Because we're all like Little Red Riding Hood." Her voice took on a childish lisp as she widened here eyes and said, "Asian dicks are too small. And black dicks are too big. But white dicks are just right."
Setting the camera aside, Darian took a seat beside the girl, dropping his hand to caress hers. "Relax," he said, his voice low and soft. "Close your eyes and try to actually sleep. We're going to have to get you calmed back down."
The girl giggled as his nails caressed her open palm, tickling her. Taking her hand in both of his, he began massaging the pressure points in her palm with this thumbs. "You are such a little giggle monster. Straighten up."
This, of course, only sent more giggles running through the girl as he caressed her hand. Opening one eye, she peered up at him curiously.
His hand moved along the girls arm, kneading the muscles as he murmured for her to be still. She blushed again as his finger tips began to probe her shoulders. A small whimper escaped her lips as his fingers began caressing her throat.
"How would you like to quadruple your money?" he asked.
The girl squinted at him suspiciously and shook her head.
"I'm not getting naked," she said.
Darian shook his head as he reached into his pocket and produced a short length of shiny black leather with small silver rings, a dog collar. Smiling, he brushed the girl's cheek, letting the soft suede caress her.
"This would be the only wardrobe change," he murmured. She did not stop him, just stared without blinking, as he circled her neck, lifting her hair slightly, cinching the soft leather band around her throat. "Just a little collar, a very subtle hint."
Still she did not speak, but reached up to feel it, her eyes not leaving his, her breathing coming in short intakes of breath. Her fingers slid between her neck and the collar, feeling its snugness, but not uncomfortably so. She watched as he reached back into his pocket, pulling out a small padlock.
"No," she whispered, but did not stop him as he reached up, turned the buckle which had been hidden by her hair, and slipping the lock into place, he snapped it shut. The "click" made her shiver.
"A subtle hint of what?" she asked.
Hooking his fingers in the collar, he tugged gently, bringing the young woman to her knees on the bed. His pale green eyes held a hint of humor as he grinned.
"That if you buy these pillows, you, too, could have your own hot Asian sex slave," he said.
"Yes," the girl laughed nervously. "Clearly. Because that is what Asian girls look for in boyfriends, tons of fake Asian crap in their bedrooms. I know red paper lanterns, dragons and tigers always make me horny."
"Which is why you are not the target market," Darian chuckled. "Honestly, how many Asians do you know who'll buy a pillow stuffed with tea leaves? This is for white college kids who think they're Buddhists because they've watched a yoga DVD. The shots we've already got are for family-oriented magazines and papers. I'm thinking about something for Maxim and men's magazines."
Returning to the makeup table, he made a few selections and returned to remove her lipstick and eye make up. As he carefully began to apply deep scarlet lip color and a subtle peacock eyeshadow, he continued to explain.
"These photos are designed to sell the pillows to rice kings," he said. "You know what these guys want when they look at you. Just give the impression that you can't wait to give it to them when you pose."
The girl nodded, tucking her heels up under her bottom as she kneeled on the bed. Bowing her head, she let her long, dark hair fall forward to screen her face and she spoke in an exaggerated accent.
"Yes, sir. A very good slave, I will be for you."
The camera clicked even as the photographer chuckled. "Perhaps a little less good," he suggested. "I think a bad girl might be more appropriate. Part your thighs and place the pillow between them. Give the hint you're humping it."
The transformation was instant. Giggling the girl parted her thighs and wedged the corner of the pillow against her sex. Lifting her chin, she left her lips slightly parted and gazed at the camera with smoky, hooded eyes.
"Excellent," Darian cooed, shooting more photos. "Keep going."
Nodding, the girl began slipping through pose after pose, leaning forward onto her hands and knees, falling onto her side and taking a strand of hair between her lips, licking her fingers. Darian locked a leash to her collar and she began to use it as a prop as well, stroking it through her fingers and letting it trail between her thighs.
Darian smiled as he watched the girl work harder and harder to look sexy. A flush was growing along her throat and face and her breathing was growing shallower as she began to become turned on.
"You're amazing," he marveled as the shoot came to an end. "You really seemed to be getting into it."
The girl blushed furiously and looked down at her hands.
"Maybe a little."
Darian bit his lip as he looked at her, finally coming to a decision.
"Keep the collar," he said, digging into a chest and drawing out a small bundle. "And take these as well. Try them on at home and see how they feel. If you're comfortable with them and interested, I'd like to schedule another photo shoot."
Chewing her bottom lip, the girl looked at the wrapped bundle curiously.
"Wear them?" she finally asked.
"Bondage outfits. A bit more daring than what you're wearing now," Darian said, flipping through his wallet and handing her five $100 bills. "But the pay's also better."
"But still no sex or nudity?" she asked, her eyes suspicious.
"And no whipping you bloody," he grinned. "Just fantasy dress up."
"I'll think about it," the girl said, heading back to the changing room. "But no promises."
Darian groaned in frustration as he looked at the photos on the desktop. Normally the problem was finding half a dozen shots he could actually use. Today, he was finding it impossible to weed any out.
"This girl is amazing," he thought, swearing under his breath as he realized he'd now forgotten to get her name twice in a row.
Whatever her name was, the girl had range. There was no denying the fact she looked extremely cute and innocent in the early photos. But as he clicked through to the end of the shoot, her whole persona changed and it was far more than a matter of makeup.
"You are one fierce little sex kitten," he murmured, stroking his cock through the fabric of his jeans as he worked his way through the shots. Sliding the controls to tone the photograph, he found himself frowning. "What the hell is going on with my black levels?" he muttered, zooming in first, on the girl's hair and finally on her panties.