After_School_Job
by Lubrican
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | Epilogue
Chapter Two
Thursday night she was all fired up. We went back to the house and this time there were no cars parked behind
it. The sign was still on the
back door, but this time it was locked.
There was a doorbell, and Addie pushed it. It didn't take him long to answer it. This time he was in jeans and a sweat shirt.
"Come in, come in," he said, flashing that toothy grin of his.
We followed him straight to the door in the
wall, and he opened it, walking in and leaving it open for us to follow.
What we entered was a studio. I realized it was basically about two thirds of
the basement. It was brightly lit, and
there were various bits of equipment all over the place. The floor was a nest of snakes, made by wires
that went everywhere. Lights like they used in musicals at school hung from the ceiling. A mural had been
painted on the far wall. Then I realized
it wasn't a mural at all, but a backdrop, also like we had in the
plays I did in high school. This one
showed a rural scene, with trees and sheep in the background. There was a green carpet spread in front of
it, a strip maybe twenty feet long and ten feet wide. It could be imagined as grass, but it looked
like carpet. There was even a fake tree,
positioned by a big, fake boulder.
Further down was a smaller set. This one looked more like what I
expected. It had a tripod kind of thing
that had what looked like an old fashioned movie screen on the top. But it wasn't a movie
screen. It was a pull down colored
sheet. The one that was down was a sort
of medium gray. It was really long, and
part of it was lying on the floor. I
realized that from the position of the camera that was set up in front of it,
you wouldn't be able to see the floor at all, just a mass of gray
background. There was a stool sitting on
top of the sheet that covered the floor.
A rack of clothes had been rolled next to
the camera, which was also on a tripod.
Zharkov went to it and pushed clothes around on it. He pulled a frilly blue dress off a hanger
and held it out to Addie.
"This should fit you.
You can change in there. Take
your hair down, too."
He pointed to an alcove that was covered by
a black sheet. It wasn't a
dressing room, really, but it provided privacy.
He turned to me when she took the dress from him.
"There is work for boys too. You want me to take some test shots of you too?"
"In what?" I asked.
He went back to the rack and pushed things
around on it again. He pulled down a
silk shirt. It was black, with a super wide and long collar. There were two pockets on the chest, with
white stitching on them in a design that looked vaguely western to me. It wasn't a cowboy shirt, or at least not like any
western shirt I'd ever seen anybody wearing, but it looked
interesting. He handed it to me.
"Sixteen neck, thirty-two arms?" he asked.
"How'd you know that?" I asked,
taking the shirt. It was lighter than it
looked.
"I do this for a living," he said,
flashing me another of those grins. "The jeans
you have on are perfect to go with that.
You can change out here, or wait until she gets back."
I looked at the sheet covering the "dressing
room". Addie hadn't been very
careful about closing it, where there was a slit down the middle. I saw her back as she held the dress over her
head and let it slip downwards. She had
on a beige bra and matching panties. I hadn't seen her
like that in a long time, and I was amazed at the hourglass figure she'd
developed. Then it was gone as she
tugged the dress down and covered everything up.
"Do I need shoes?" she called out.
"Not for the test shots," said
Zharkov, fiddling with the camera.
I pulled off my T shirt and slid my arms
into the shirt he'd given me. I'd never
felt anything so smooth and light before. It fit me like a glove. There were no buttons for the first two or
three inches down from the collar. I saw a full length mirror standing against
the wall the door was in and took a look.
It didn't actually expose my chest, but it was clear there were
no buttons there.
"It's a little big," said my sister, coming through the sheet.
"We can solve that," said Zharkov, going to a table.
I looked at Addie. The dress was a summer type dress, very light
and flowing. I had to admit she looked
really good in it, with her pony tail gone and her blond hair falling all down on her
shoulders. Zharkov came back with
something on his left wrist like a bracelet.
It turned out to be a pin cushion.
"Once I get these pins in there, be careful how you move," he warned.
I watched as he put his hands all over
her. Except it didn't look like
he was groping her or anything. He
pulled and folded and pinned until the dress fit her curves like the shirt fit
my body - not quite skin tight.
Suddenly, my sister had curves like a woman. It was amazing. The whole time he hummed, while his fingers
smoothed the material here and pulled it there.
His hands slid right down the sides of her breasts, but before I could
object, he was pulling the material and putting in pins. It was weird.
He touched her in places that I thought of as sexual places ... but it
didn't look like sexual touching.
And she didn't complain
... so how could I?
And then he was helping her up on the stool,
and touching her again, this time all over her legs, as he put one of her feet
on one rung of the stool, and the other on a different rung. He put her hands in her lap, and then stood
back and looked her over. He didn't like that
for some reason and moved her hands to one side, on only one thigh. He ended up with her right hand on her thigh
and her left hand up just under her hair, like she was getting ready to flip it
back, like girls do all the time. Our
social studies teacher called it a "grooming behavior," and said
it had to do with trying to make yourself look good to prospective mates. That got lots of giggles, let me tell you.
"Hold that pose," he said.
He moved to the camera and picked up
something that looked about like a cigarette lighter with a thin cord coming
out of it.
"Tilt your chin down," he said.
Then, "Now turn your head to the right, just a little ...
perfect! Hold it right there."
The whole room seemed to flash, and I
realized it was a bunch of silvery looking umbrellas on stands that had lights
in them.
"Think of your boyfriend," said
Zharkov.
"I don't have one," said
Addie.
"Impossible!" he brayed.
"A woman as beautiful as you? Surely the boys fight over you constantly."
I thought the asshole was flirting with her,
and her smile bloomed and the lights flashed and I realized that he wasn't flirting
with her at all. Instead, he had
manipulated a look on her face that she probably couldn't put there
on purpose.
He told her to stand, and then made her walk
around. He gave her all sorts of
instructions about what to do and which way to turn and how fast to turn, all
the while snapping pictures. Then he
took the camera off the tripod and held it, making her go through all the moves
again, while he walked around moving the camera up and down and taking
close-ups. By the time he was finished,
she was laughing and smiling and I had to admit she looked ... I don't know ...
just good.
Then it was my turn, and I realized how
difficult all this was. He changed the
sweep of my hair and then used gel to keep it that way. It was hard to sit the way he wanted me to
sit, and do the things he wanted me to do. It didn't feel
natural at all. And when he had me
turning around and jumping at him and stuff like that, I felt stupid. But Addie wasn't laughing
at me. She did have a smile on her face,
but it was more like she was just having a good time watching the guy put me
through my paces.
Then, suddenly, he put the camera back on
the tripod and popped out a card.
"You can get dressed in your own clothes while I pull
these up and take a look at them," he said.
"What about the pins?" asked Addie.
"Your brother can help you," he said,
apparently uninterested in removing what he had so lovingly put in. "Just stick the pins back in the pin cushion."
Addie headed for the dressing room.
"Hey," I called out to her.
"You can take them out in here," she said.
So I followed her in. She was jumping up and down, she was so
excited.
"That was so much fun!" she
whispered. She turned her back to me.
"Hold still," I said, looking for a pin to remove.
He'd used dozens of the things, and the tiny
silver heads were hard to see against the pale blue of the dress. She got fidgety after a bit.
"Hold still!" I ordered her.
"Wait," she said.
"Help me get it up over my head. Then you can take the pins out while it's not on
me." She held her
arms up.
"I can't take it off of you," I
objected.
"Why not?"
"Because you're my sister?" I
suggested.
"It's not like I'm naked under it," she
scoffed. "You've seen me
in my bikini. That's much worse than what I have on right now."
She was probably right about that. I had seen her in her bikini, and she was extremely
hot looking in that. Not that I
would ever admit that to her, of course.
So I started tugging the dress up, past her
hips, and then past her breasts and up her arms. At one point I had a heck of a good view of
some extremely fine cleavage. The bra
turned out to be a lacy one. And the front of her panties had this interesting bulge in them that sort of drew the eyes.
It was unsettling, because I had some
very un-brotherly thoughts while this was happening.
Then it was off, and she turned and reached
for her clothes, like it was no big deal.
About then I found a pin - the hard way - and pulled it out. By the time I'd found
three more she was dressed and took the garment from me.
"Your turn," she said.
She looked at me critically. "You look good in that shirt. He has a good eye."
"Thanks," I said.
I unbuttoned the shirt and took it off. My T shirt was out in the room, so I pushed
through the curtain.
"What do I do with the shirt?" I called
out.
"Just hang it back up," he said.
"The dress too.
You didn't wear them long enough to sweat in them."
Addie came out, still examining the dress
and pulling pins out of it. She had the
pin cushion on her arm like he had.
I waited until she was satisfied and had
hung up the dress. Then we both wandered
over to the computer in the corner of the room, where he was reviewing the
shots he'd taken on a huge monitor.
When we walked up behind him, he had one of
the first shots he'd taken of Addie up.
It was the one right after he'd told her guys must be killing themselves
to be with her. The camera had caught
her at first blush from the compliment, with her smile only barely formed. As we watched he did something with the mouse and her skin tone changed, making her tan look darker than it was. She was beautiful! He did something else and her eyes changed, making them look like she was hungry for whoever she was looking at. Even I wanted her to look at me like that. I'd been around her my whole life, and had never seen that look on her face. Not looking at me, anyway.
"Wow," I said.
"You have a very beautiful sister, young man," said
Zharkov, without a trace of shame. Then
again, why would he be ashamed of saying she was beautiful. He was in the beautiful business, after all.
"I have to admit you are correct," I said.
"Thank you!" she said,
laughing happily. "I finally
got a compliment from my brother!"
"It won't be the last," said
Zharkov.
I thought that was a funny thing for him to
say, but then the picture changed, and we all examined that one.
It took another half hour to go through all
the pictures he'd taken. He didn't play with them all. Some
were obviously no good. A few were
blurry, but most of them were bad for other reasons. There were a lot where the look on our faces
was all wrong. I couldn't tell you why
they were wrong, but it was obvious.
At least after seeing a few where everything was right.
And there were some where everything
was right. I was amazed at how good the
camera made us both look. He used his computer to enhance this and that in a few of the shots, always improving things. Finally he
flipped a switch and the monitor went dark.
He swiveled around and sat, looking up at us.
"Both of you will do quite nicely. If you want to work, you're hired."
Of course there was more to it than
that. We had to fill out forms for
withholding and all that kind of stuff. We even filled out non-disclosure forms.
And, I admit that, as we went home that night, we were both
a little giddy that we were actual models.
Now maybe you, being an adult, have seen
warning signs in what I've described thus far.
But to me, other than my initial dislike of Vlad - that's his first name
- I didn't get any more vibes that made me worry. Especially after a month and a half of going
to his studio and having photographs taken.
We went twice a week and everything seemed completely normal. He had us dress up in various kinds of
clothing and took pictures, hundreds of them.
There were different backgrounds and all that, and everything seemed
just as normal as pie. He even gave us
some of the shots to take home to show Dad.
Even when he started posing us in swimwear,
I didn't think too much of it. He put
Addie in some suits that our parents would have killed her for wearing, but
then everybody's parents are old fashioned.
You know the deal. And if he had
her in a thong bikini, he didn't pose her bent over from the back, or anything
like that. He might have her turn so
that one ass cheek was partially visible, but that seemed normal too. And he put me in Speedos and posed me holding
a fake styrofoam surfboard and stuff like that.
I guess what I'm saying is that it all
seemed pretty normal. Addie and I always
went into the changing booth to change outfits, and he just took lots of
pictures of us.
At first I thought it was kind of strange that we never worked with any of the other kids. They worked on different nights than us. Vlad had us working on Thursdays and Mondays. But after I realized how much time it took to take all those hundreds of pictures, I figured having four or more models in the studio would be difficult to make work, logistically speaking.
I do know that Addie was disgusted when she told Cindy that she'd signed the non-disclosure agreement, and all Cindy wanted to talk about was how to move and hold your head and how to get the right look on your face and stuff like that. There weren't any juicy details after all.
Well ... there were ... but Cindy didn't tell Addie about them. It was too soon for that. And, as it turned out, we found out about that stuff on our own.
But the point is that for us, at that point in things, we felt like everything was going fine. We were friends with Vlad. He joked around and laughed with us. He continued to put his hands all over Addie,
and me to a lesser degree, but it always seemed like it just went with the
posing.
And we both suddenly had a lot more spending
money than we had in the past.
Remember those juicy details I mentioned? About two months into things something happened that should have
made me wonder ... but it didn't. We
showed up on one of our regular nights and Vlad said he had something to talk
about.
"I've sold quite a few of your
pictures," he said. "And one
customer has taken a real liking to you, Addison. He has asked me to take an extensive set of
you in his line of swimwear. But he
wants a boy in the pictures with you."
"Really?" I could hear the excitement in my sister's
voice at the thought that she was actually known to somebody.
"Indeed," he said. "So we need to talk about the poses, and
which boy you want to do them with."
"What kind of poses?" she asked.
"Well, they're a bit sexier than what
you've done in the past," he said, easily.
"The boy would have his arm or arms around you, and his hands on
your body."
"Oh," she said. "Like how?"
"I'll show you," he said. He looked at me. "Can you stand in for her future partner
for a couple of poses?"
"I guess so," I said.
"Excellent!" He flashed us his signature mile wide
smile.
What he did was have me stand behind her and
reach around her, placing my hands on her hips, but forward a bit, so that my fingertips
were on her abdomen. Then he had me lean
my face down like I was kissing her shoulder.
"That's an example," he said. "Of course you'd both be in swimwear,
but I have to tell you up front, this company targets an adult customer, so
some of it is pretty racy."
"Oh," she said again. She turned her head to look at me and her
cheek ran into my nose. "I don't
know. Who would I pose with?"
"There are several boys on the payroll
who would be delighted to pose with you," he said. "Remember, you're a knockout. In fact, I could probably get some boys to
pose with you for free." He
grinned, to show he was kidding.
That was when I felt something in the pit of
my stomach that I should have recognized as a warning sign. But I interpreted it as jealousy. Or
something. I didn't want some guy pawing
my sister in a string bikini ... you know?
"I don't think so," she said,
slowly.
"It's a lot better money," he
said. "I charge more for this genre
of shots, so I can pay you more too."
"How much more?" she asked.
"Triple your normal fee," he said,
calmly.
And it was then I learned something
interesting about my sister.
It turned out that it was one thing for
Addison to flaunt her stuff in front of bleachers full of men and boys she went
to school with. It was another to agree
to let some amorphous male put his hands on her. She didn't mind it when Vlad touched her,
because she had gotten used to that. And
we were both convinced all that touching was harmless. But we knew what posing was like now, and if
she agreed to do this with somebody else, it could get ... personal.
On the other hand ... there was a boy she
was sure she could be with and things would not get ... personal.
"Could we do these poses with me and
Bobby?"
His million dollar smile flashed.
"Absolutely!" he said,
happily. "The customer need not
know you are brother and sister."
He went to the table on the wall and picked
up a big cardboard box.
"The merchandise is in here," he
said. "We'll need to catalog it and
match up outfits for the two of you to wear, but that won't take long."
Looking back on it, he was slick. I'll give
him that. He was a professional,
after all.
First, he had her put on fake fingernails
that were long and painted with scenes of palm trees and sand beaches. He glued them on and said, "It will take
an hour for the glue to dry completely, so be careful. You may have to have some assistance getting
dressed."
"From who?" she asked.
"Well, of course I could help
you," he said, casually. "But
you might be more comfortable if Bobby did that."
We looked at each other. She shrugged.
"Okay," she said.
The first suit she had to put on was woven
out of some kind of yarn or something. If
you held it up to the light, you could see through it, but it was thick enough
that it hid the skin it covered.
Which wasn't much, as it turned out.
The bra covered the tips of her breasts, but
that was all. And the bottoms were
basically a triangle that covered her .... well ... her pussy, I guess. The rest of it was just yarn that held that
on her hips.
How do I know this?
Because I had to help her put it on. Vlad said it was too likely that her
fingernails would catch in the yarn, and get pulled off.
So we went into the changing booth. I was holding the suit. Actually, it was hanging from the fingers of
my right hand. It looked about like a
fancy handkerchief.
"I can't wear that!" she
whispered.
I spread it out on my hand.
"You can't really see through it,"
I said.
"Yes, but you're going to see me
totally naked!"
I know it's sad, but by this time I had
admired enough pictures of my sister that the thought of seeing her naked
didn't seem ... objectionable?
"Come on," I said. "We took baths together until you were
like eight."
"I didn't have these when I was
eight!" she hissed, cupping her breasts.
"What are you worried about?" I
asked. "You afraid I'll make a move
on you?"
"I'll be naked!" she
moaned. "All the way
naked!"
"You think I want to ogle my own
sister?" I asked. "All I'm
going to do is put the stupid suit on you.
It won't take but a second."
It was then that I learned something else
new about my sister.
"You better not laugh at me," she
hissed.
Turns out that no matter how beautiful a
girl is, or how many times somebody tells her how beautiful she is, she still
doesn't quite believe it. Or maybe she
just concentrates on self-perceived flaws or something. Anyway, the point is that she thought I'd
think she was ugly if I saw her naked.
The long and the short of it is that, eventually, she agreed to wear the suit. And she agreed to let me put it on her.
I had to undress her too, because the glue
on the nails wasn't dry yet. If you're a
guy, you've played out this scene in your mind a thousand times. The undressing a girl part, I mean. You've imagined unbuttoning things, and
pulling things apart and exposing more and more skin. Eventually you get to the good parts and, in
your imagination, the girl is just letting you do all this. This fantasy is usually a prelude to
masturbation when you're a teenager.
Except most of us don't imagine that girl to
be our sister.
But I was confused about all this. And I think it was because I was so
used to seeing her as a good looking girl posing for the camera ... instead of
as my sister.
So I may as well just admit it right up front that, by the time I got to
the good parts ... I had a boner to be proud of.
Well ... except for the fact that I had a
boner for my sister. Which you're not
supposed to be proud of. I worked
through all that eventually, but let me tell you I was all twisted up there for
a while.
Anyway, while I saw her, you didn't, and if
you're normal, you wish you'd seen her too, so I'll tell you what I saw.
The first thing I did was unbutton her
blouse. She had on a plain, white,
cotton bra that day, which wasn't so sexy, but it was a bra, you
know? She was looking at me with this
half frown, like she was trying to be mad at me. I remembered her warning about laughing, but
I hadn't figured out what I told you earlier yet.
"I have freckles on my chest," she
said, for some odd reason.
I looked, and there was, in fact, a spray of
freckles across her chest. They looked
kind of neat, but I figured I probably shouldn't say that.
"Yeah, you do," I said instead,
trying to sound uninterested.
"Should I take off your bra now, or your jeans?" I didn't know what to do.
"Jeans," she said, her voice
tight.
I knelt and undid her jeans. They were surprisingly hard to get down past
her knees.
"I have a fat ass," she said.
I was in front of her.
"I can't see your ass," I said.
"It's fat," she said.
"If you say so," I replied. I admit I was a little preoccupied. While her bra was plain, her panties were
not. They were wispy blue ones, lacy, in
a cut I later learned was called "boy shorts" style. As I pulled her jeans down, the panties sort
of wanted to slide down too, exposing the beginnings of very blond pubic hair. Don't ask
me why, but I tried to keep them up while I got the jeans down. That was when
my johnson started acting up.
When I finally got the jeans down, I realized
I hadn't taken her shoes off. So I had
to pull her jeans back up to get to her shoes.
She had to put her hands on my head for balance while she lifted a foot
for me to take her shoe off. Don't ask
me why, but somehow it felt different than my sister gripping my head.
I finally got her down to bra and
panties. Her hands had gone from my head
to cover the front of those panties when I stood up with her jeans in my hand.
"I'm going to see you naked," I
pointed out, staring at her hands.
"I know," she said. She was breathing hard. "Nobody's ever seen me that way."
"Don't even try that," I said,
almost laughing, but remembering at the last second not to. "Girls in the showers at the gym? Girls at your sleepovers?"
She tossed her head. "I meant boys, of
course."
"Greg Haskins?" I said, reminding
her of the guy she'd gone with for six months before having a fiery
breakup. "Danny Wilson?" He was the guy after that. "Paul
Buckminster?" I opened my mouth to
go on, but she cut me off.
"I never got naked with any of
them, you asshole!"
"That's not the way I heard it," I
said.
"Give me my jeans," she
snapped. "I'm not doing this if
you're going to be a prick about it."
I thought about the video game equipment
three times our normal fee would buy me and held up my hand.
"I'm not trying to give you a hard
time, Addie. I'm just telling you what I
heard."
"And you believe them over me?"
"Of course not. But it was possible they were telling
the truth. If you say I'm the first,
then I believe you."
She relaxed a little.
"And I'm glad," I added.
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Why?"
"You're my sister. None of those guys was worth even getting a
kiss, much less getting to see you like this."
I was astonished when she laughed.
"You are so full of it. Let's go. Vlad's probably getting
antsy."
So she turned her back to me and I unhooked
her bra. She shrugged it off like it was
no big deal and started to reach for it, but then stopped with it hanging on
her wrists.
"You better do it," she said,
turning to me.
I missed the bra on my first try. Her breasts were astonishing.
Imagine a big, ripe, cantaloupe, maybe eight
inches across. Now cut that in half and
lay each half gently on a flat chest.
Magically make them into skin and perch the pit from a Bing cherry on
top of each one. You can also paint a
dark pink landing pad for each of those cherries if you want, about an inch in
diameter. I would not find out until
later that those nipples could lie just as flat and lifeless as a piece of
paper, or that she was, like me, excited about the first time a boy was going
to see her completely naked. She was
conflicted too, but her emotions were driving her body's responses, and her
nipples responded by becoming erect.
I finally looked up to see her watching me
... watching her boobs. Don't ask me
why. Maybe it was just my training to be
polite, but whatever it was, I felt compelled to say something.
"They're really nice," I said.
"Bobby!" she said, properly
scandalized.
"Well they are," I whispered. "What'd you want me to say? That they're horrible bags?"
She slapped my shoulder, which made those
breasts jiggle only a little. They looked
remarkably firm. I would later find out they were.
"Of course not!" she whispered
back. "But you're my
brother!"
"That doesn't mean I can't recognize a
prime rack when I see one," I said, without thinking.
There was one of those things my literature
teacher calls a "pregnant silence" before she finally said something.
"You think I have a prime rack? Really?"
Again, don't ask me why, but I did something
really crazy. I leaned forward, very
quickly and kissed the inside of one of those fabulous breasts. As I pulled back she pulled back too and
almost lost her balance.
"That convince you?" I asked,
staring right at her.
"Are you crazy?" she gasped.
I knelt on one knee and crooked my finger at
her, pointing at her panties. She stood
there, her chest heaving, but finally came to me.
I didn't do it slow. I just grabbed the waistband and tugged them
down in one pull that took them to her knees.
I've seen lots of pictures on the internet. But seeing things in real life is different. My imagination about seeing the start of those pubes I mentioned was pretty fired up by then, and the reality of things hit me pretty hard. She had this beautiful, short, curly carpet of very blond hair, perched above where I expected to see pussy lips. But she didn't have pussy lips. Not really. Her skin just rounded in to
form a slit that was tightly closed.
When she lifted her left leg to step out of the panties, that cleft
spread a little bit, but it was still closed.
"I can't believe I'm doing this,"
she panted.
"Me either," I agreed.
"Please don't laugh at me, Bobby,"
she moaned, one hand coming to try to hide her pussy, and the other going to try
covering her breasts.
I got it then. She wasn't just trying to be modest, though
that was part of it. She thought she was
ugly. I know how stupid that sounds, but
I have since learned it happens all the time.
Madison Avenue makes a business - quite literally - from telling girls
over and over that they aren't beautiful or desirable, unless they
enhance their natural assets. And that
sinks in by the time a girl is in her teens.
Of course I wasn't in business. And I knew my sister was completely
wrong. So I stood up and told her.
"Addie, you're beautiful."
Her eyes were wet, but they hadn't formed
tears yet.
"I mean it," I said. "I wish you weren't my sister right
now."
That got her
attention.
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