Baby Doll

"Yes," she said. "I will."

"Ok, then. You'll be having your go-sees, the artists will send their work to me, and we'll meet again in a week to go over your progress so far."

"Ok, but . . . what do I need to do?"

"Whatever they say. Get some modeling under your belt. See what it's like. I'll be curious to hear your impressions."

"Ok."

She gestured, as if was time for her to go. Before Cassie had even left, she was back to perusing the photos, and murmuring to herself.

+++

Cassie journeyed home trying to absorb everything the woman had said.

On the one hand, it was a bit surprising, and overwhelming . . . on the other hand, it wasn't. If she was truly honest with herself, she had to admit Freya hadn't told her that much that she didn't already know, deep down. It was why she never stopped looking at magazines. She knew she belonged there, and that she could be good. More than good, she could be great. She could be everything Freya had said she could be.

But she didn't even call her friends. She didn't feel the need to shout about it. She was curious, extremely curious, and there was no doubt she wanted to succeed. As much as she disliked this Freya woman Cassie was savvy enough to recognize if she wanted to succeed, she had to lot to learn from that crusty old hag. There was something to be said about knowing the value of a diamond in the world, and going for it. Why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't she take advantage of it?

Cassie knew her life was going to change. She could almost see it, unrolling before her. But she was exactly the same girl she always had been, and this was just . . . a career. A path out into the world. And she was going to use her mind and keep her head on straight.

The first thing to do was tell her father. Everything. She hated having kept this a secret from him even this long. She ached to be in his arms. She longed for his warmth, his body, his love, to dispel the coldness in those empty eyes. +++

Larry's reaction to her news was just as Cassie expected. She told him everything when she was cuddled into his chest in their favorite chair in the apartment later that night.

After getting mad at her for not telling him and going into the city to meet a stranger all alone, he demanded to see the envelope filled with directions, her schedule and who exactly she'd be seeing and what she'd be doing. After convincing himself it was legit and his daughter was not walking into some twisted scheme, he pulled her into his arms and said just what he felt.

"Well, of course. Once they see how beautiful you are, everyone's going to love you."

Cassie smiled at him. It was sweet, if a bit naïve. But she loved him for it.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she said, as she kissed his neck.

"Yes, baby, I do."

"Did you miss Daddy, Princess?" Larry said. "Did you sleep well after, uh . . . "

"Yes," Cassie said, suddenly gushing with love for him. She scooted around to straddle his lap, her legs on either side of his thighs, and her arms crossed around his neck. Her short dress rode up, leaving her thighs bare almost up to her crotch. She rocked back on his hardness, her tight cheeks pushing on his cock, as she kissed his neck.

"Yes," she whispered. "I always sleep well after I come for you."

"Mmmm . . . " Larry could not help groaning, and Cassie felt his cock swell even harder against her ass.

"I do, Daddy. Your Baby Girl loves coming for you, while you watch."

"Mmmmmm . . ." God! Larry couldn't stand it! She was so fucking sexy! "Do you, Baby Doll?"

"Mmmm, yes. In fact . . . " she pressed her lips against his ear. "I want to do something for you. Right now."

"What's that?" he whispered.

"Well," said Cassie, as she swung off his lap and stood up, "If I'm going to pose for people, then I want you to be the first one."

"Oh?" said Larry, intrigued. "You want to pose for Daddy?"

"Well, sort of, yes," said Cassie. "I want you to see me. All of me."

Larry had seen her—parts of her, aspects of her, but never completely, never in the way she wanted right now. She held his gaze as she reached for her dress.

There was a single lamp in the otherwise dark apartment. It made her ivory skin luminescent, her copper hair rich with shimmering tints of gold. When she pulled her dress off and over her head, her tall, slender body, clad in tiny panties and bra, seemed to shine forth its own iridescent light. Her curves were as elegant as a calla lily, and beckoned for his touch. She raised herself on her tiptoes, arms stretched overhead, reaching and swaying, and turned around, so he could see her from every angle.

He watched with fascination. She was a goddess, discovering herself in his gaze. He sensed that she was becoming more aroused by this than he, and he gave her just what she needed—adoring love and desire. When she undid her bra, and her nipples sprang out swollen and erect, it was because he was watching. When she cupped her breasts in her hands, feeling their weight, their softness, their warmth, holding them like a succulent offering to the universe, it was for him alone. She touched them as if feeling their capacity for pleasure for the first time. She pushed them together, made an exaggerated gasp when she ran her fingertips over her nipples, watching them swell and puff up. She squeezed them between her arms and bent forwards, watching the light play over them, sighing with delight.

She stood and turned towards him, smiling, and slowly tugged down her silk panties.

As much as they had played and touched themselves for each other, Larry had never seen her completely naked, and he had yet to see her bare pussy. She was entirely shaved except for a little triangle of copper hair drawing his gaze to her perfect, slightly spread lips.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh yes, Baby Girl," Larry murmured, his gaze locked onto her sweet little mound, "Yes, Daddy likes it, very much."

Cassie hadn't foreseen the intense urge that came over her at this moment, and she hadn't planned on what she was about to do.

She took his hand and led him over to a chair close to the king-sized bed, and stood close to him, opening her thighs, and twisting back and forth.

"Can I do something for you?" she whispered.

Larry leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. He saw her glance down towards his crotch, and he spread his legs a bit, giving her a nice glimpse of his hugely swollen cock.

"What's that? You want to show yourself to Daddy, is that what you want to do?"

Cassie played her game—twisted some more, and nodded.

"Go ahead. Daddy will be right here."

"Mmmmm," Cassie said, so turned on she could barely speak.

She was trembling as she crawled onto the bed and propped herself up on some pillows, with her feet and legs directly in front of him.

"It's ok," Larry whispered, knowing what she wanted to hear. "Let me see you."

Cassie hesitated. She had never been so aroused, so hot and horny and ready to come. She wanted to spread her legs and show her wet, hot pussy, all of it, to Daddy. She had wanted this for a very long time.

She placed her hands on her inner thighs, and pushed, spreading herself, wider and wider until she was splayed open, knees bent and toes pointed like a ballet dancer. Ohhhhhh . . .

The intensity of her arousal was beyond description. Knowing he was looking at her, that he could see her pussy, glistening with her juices, the beautiful pink and white folds shaved smooth for him, the lips quivering and her clit swelling and twitching all for him—it was too much! She squirmed, and moaned, and squeezed her thighs together, then opened them even wider—together, and apart, getting wetter and wetter.

Larry tore himself away from the mind-blowing sight and went to her, as she was whining and mewling and crying for release. He lay down next to her and stroked her face.

"It's ok, Baby, you need to come. Come for Daddy. I'm here."

Cassie cried out as his voice triggered spasms deep from her belly, exploding from her clit, and sending convulsions through her body.

She yelled out, "Daddy! Ohhhhh!" as her head shot backwards and her orgasm shook her from head to toe, as he watched and stroked her face.

"Mmmmmm . . . mmmmmm . . ." Cassie moaned and moaned, so happy, so delighted, so at peace. "Ohhhhh . . . "

+++

Later, looking back over what transpired over the next few weeks, Cassie often thought that it shouldn't have been so hard. She was so ripe, so ready—a blossoming flower just waiting to be plucked, and have her beauty shown to the world.

But it didn't happen that way.

Her introduction to the modeling world was not easy, and quite an education. It would be, in fact, the most difficult time of her entire career.

She was sent out on gigs, every day, finding her way around the city, meeting photographers, getting into hair and make-up, and learning how to pose and what to do. She thought it might be "fun," or "enjoyable," she thought she would "learn" some things. But really the only thing she learned was how worthless models were regarded, how stupid they were assumed to be, and how no one cared about her in the least. She was a prop, an object; her function was to shut up and do as she was told.

All of that was slightly expected; this was a job, after all, and she hadn't thought anyone was going to hold her hand and ask her about her feelings.

But what did shock her was how the photographers treated her.

She assumed, from Freya's description of it, they wanted something good from her; that they wanted her, what she specifically had to offer. If they weren't going to become her best friend, they were at least supposed to get the best possible work out of her.

But that didn't turn out to be the case. Her very first experiences were pretty telling.

She had no idea what to expect for her very first "go-see." All she had in her mind was standing in that prison-like room with her toes on the yellow line, doing nothing but smiling.

She made her way to a small studio in the Village, on an out-of-the-way street. It was easy to spot the place. It was painted black, and had blinking pink and yellow neon signs around the door. Across the entrance, fluorescent orange letters spelled out, "Welcome to Hell! Come Inside!"

Inside Cassie could hear laughing and shouting over blaring metal music. Sounded like quite the party. She rang the bell, and a pretty, petite blond opened the door.

"Hi! Cassie, right? I'm Joy. Come on in." She had to shout over the 10-decible music.

The voluptuous woman was poured into a black latex micro-mini skirt and bustier, and she wore thigh-high latex boots with about 7 inch heels. Her blond hair was yanked into a slick, high pony tail.

She was very friendly, and seemed quite professional.

"So let's get you set up. I'm all ready to go. My girls will get you into make-up and wardrobe."

An hour later, Cassie emerged from the dressing room wondering what in the world was going on. She looked just like Joy. They had fixed her up in the shortest, tightest skirt she had ever seen, and strapped her into a low-cut latex bustier that made her breasts spill out all over the place. She had stiletto boots, and her red hair had been slicked into the same high ponytail.

"Oh, fantastic! You look amazing! Come on!" Joy shouted over the noise.

She led her to the photo set-up—it was a single chair, with a light bulb hanging down, in a small, glittery, almost mirrored room.

Joy immediately got behind her camera.

"Ok, Baby Doll, let's have some fun!"

Cassie just stood there, panicked. She had no idea what to do. Was she supposed to dance?

"Come on, sexy, you can do it!"

"Um . . ." Cassie turned, and bent, a little, and stiffly smiled.

"No, no, no . . . here . . . let me show you . . ."

Joy came out from behind the camera, pushed her out of the way and yelled, "Crank it up!"

The rock music shot up a few more notches, and Cassie watched as Joy turned into a kind of whirling dervish, grinding her hips, swinging her long blond ponytail, masterfully bumping and grinding and gyrating on the chair.

"See? You can do it! Just watch me!"

She sat on the chair, pushing up her tits, spreading her legs and humping her latex-clad crotch into the air.

"Let your inner demon out, baby girl! Whoooo!"

Cassie watched, mystified and horrified. Was she really supposed to do all that?!

Eventually, Cassie managed a few shots bent over the chair, one leg up, her ass stuck high into the air.

"Spread your thighs more, a bit more. Show it off! Nothing wrong with that sweet little pussy!"

Cassie bent further, did a little grind, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. She couldn't wait for it to end!

"Ooooh that's hot. Swing your ponytail, that's good!"

Bit by bit, she did exactly what she was told. She spread, and gyrated, and pushed, and swiveled. That's what Joy wanted, apparently, so that's what she did. And it appeared to work.

"Mmmmm, fantastic. Hot. Sexy. You're doing great." Joy shouted, as the cameras clicked like mad.

At last, it was over. Cassie felt like she was going to cry.

But Joy seemed happy. She walked Cassie to the door after she'd changed into her normal clothes.

"Amazing job, Cassie. AMAZING."

She gave her a big, sweet hug.

"You're fantastic, sweetheart. I'll send the pics over to Freya. Hope it all works out. Bye."

Cassie left stunned and terrified. Is this what modeling was going to be like all the time?

+++

Her next job wasn't any more encouraging, but at least not as hard.

This photographer, Thomas T. "Tex" Jones, was famous. She knew who he was because of all the fashion magazines she had read. He was very tall, had long silvery white hair and was known for always wearing a black ten-gallon hat, no matter the event, which increased his height even more.

He'd made it big back in the 80's. Or maybe it was the 70's. He still had a kind of rep, but more for his past work than anything he was doing now. Many people considered him a has-been. Still, he was the only one she had heard of.

He was known for his "aggressively sexual" style. She remembered seeing some of his early images. He liked voluptuous women with big breasts, slathered in Dynasty-style lip gloss, done up in big Texas hair. He shot them bending over, licking their lips, spreading their designer-clad legs, or pushing their huge breasts together.

But that was all a long time ago.

She was petrified taking the subway to his loft in Soho. This was a man who had shot every single famous model she could name. She almost chickened out.

His studio was in a cold industrial-style concrete cube of a building. Her hand was shaking when she pushed the buzzer.

She never even met the guy. She was greeted by stressed out assistants who immediately pulled her into wardrobe and make-up. They were so tense! They all had walkie-talkies and hissed instructions at each other every five seconds.

"Is Tex in yet?"

"Are the lights set up?"

"Ok, he's in the elevator."

They put her in a fire engine red bikini comprised of three equilateral triangles the size of silver dollars strung together with dental floss. The only things that were covered were her nipples and her little mound. Her ass was completely naked except for a single string going down the center. She had a metric ton of make-up on her face, the lip gloss so thick and so red it looked like she'd dipped her mouth in a vat of cherry pie filling.

They brought her to the stage; all she had to do, apparently, was stand against a white background.

She was standing there, alone and almost shivering, when the great artist came in. He merely glanced in her direction. His assistants came running up and Cassie overheard him say "What is this?" After a few whispers, he hissed, "That fucking cunt. She acts like she's doing me a favor, 'sending' me a new girl. Like I need her."

"Well, actually, Tex, you do. This girl is a hot prospect. You could really turn things around."

"Well whaddya got for me?"

Apparently his assistants had done all the work; all he had to do was push the button.

He got behind a huge camera and before you know it Cassie was being told exactly how to pose. Not to smile, but to stick her ass out, squeeze her tits together, fluff her big hair, and purse her lips. It was the easiest assignment. All she had to do was bend and look dumb. She couldn't imagine anyone would think this was sexy. At one point they brought in a sort of couch and had her sit with her legs spread very wide and leaning far back so her breasts were pushed up to the ceiling.

Tex liked that shot. He was breathing heavily as he maneuvered himself so he was practically shoving that over-sized camera between her legs.

And that was it. He never said one word to her.

As Cassie was leaving, she heard him saying to one of his assistants, "Well, I'll give Freya one thing. This little bitch is hot."

And then she was sent on her way.

+++

That first day, Cassie was never in her life happier to be home.

She pulled up to the store in one of her brother's cars, which she had borrowed for the week, and went out to the greenhouse to find them.

She went right up to Joe, the first one she saw, and snuggled up to him with a big hug, and whispered in his ear, "I love you, big brother."

"I love you, too, Baby Doll, you know I do. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Can't I just tell my brother I love him?" she said. He didn't know about what she was doing; she didn't feel like explaining her day. She just felt relieved to see his familiar face.

She sat in the greenhouse and chatted with him for a long time, and then Josh when he joined them. She laughed, and relaxed, and forgot about everything she had done that day—the ponytail, the gyrating, the fire engine red bikini, the cherry pie lip gloss. They were as meaningless here as skyscrapers and subways.

"So did Josh tell you his big news?" Joe asked her.

"No, what's that?"

Josh grinned. "Oh, nothing. Just asked Amy to marry me."

"And they're buying a house. That one right down the street. Dad's helping him with the down payment."

"Aw . . . that's awesome. Congrats, Josh, I'm happy for you."

Cassie had often wondered if Josh and Joe would "move on," go to college, find new careers . . . but it was becoming clear they would never leave the family business, or leave Larry.

She knew how much they idolized him, with a love bordering on reverence. As much as they might not admit it, he was their Daddy, too. Which is why she felt a special closeness with them.

They talked a bit more. Larry was seeking to expand the business in the northern part of the state, perhaps open another shop. They chattered on excitedly about what they were going to do.

Eventually she wandered upstairs to lie down.

She was surprised, after it was all over and she was safely back home, how angry she felt. And disgusted and frustrated. Did they want her or not? Or was she supposed to try and look like any other girl that came along? She didn't look good in latex, not with her delicate skin, and red was really not her color. What were they doing? She didn't get it. And what was with all the barking orders at her, and telling her what to do? Talking about her as if she wasn't right there in front of their face?

One thing was for sure—one day had completely cured her of her delusion that this was going to be anything like getting dressed up for Larry. Posing for Larry. Being sweet and pretty and sexy as "Daddy" watched. What had she been thinking?

Part of her wanted to drop the whole entire thing. Right now, after this very first day. But she didn't, because of the crusty old hag. Maybe it was all part of the test of how "professional" she could be. She didn't give up on her intuition that Freya knew what she was doing—this must all be part of the mysterious process, and she wasn't going to cry and give up.