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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
HONEY HAVEN
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Chapter One
I go to Teddy Bear High. DonÕt laugh, thatÕs its real name. Theodore
Rooseveldt High. President Theodore Rooseveldt invented the name Òteddy
bear,Ó so all my friends and me like telling people that we go to Teddy
Bear High.
At least, I used to go there. Then I got hired away, as a model. At
first my parents werenÕt too thrilled about it. After all, I was only 14.
But the agent told my parents that I had an excellent figure and face and
needed to get started in the business at 14 if I wanted to get ahead in it.
Of course, my mom wanted me to be a star swimmer, and my dad still
somehow thought that his Òlittle girlÓ was in the third grade. The idea
that I might have a sexy figure almost caused him to punch out the agent.
But, fortunately, I prevailed. IÕd always dreamed of being a supermodel.
Being stuck in Peoria, Iowa, IÕd never imagined an agent would actually
find me here. But she did. So off I went to New York, and then to my first
assignment. It was in Italy.
Little did I know what IÕd get myself into. My father insisted that I
be Òchaperoned at all times,Ó as he put it. The agent assured him I would
be. But when I boarded the plane for Venice, my only ÔchaperoneÕ was a
fellow model, like me. Her name was Katrina. She was 16. She had
shoulder-length brown hair and a soft, angelic face. But her eyes gave off
a worldly flash whenever she looked at you. She was from Chicago. SheÕd
done a little modeling before, but this was her first overseas trip, for a
major agency. Naturally I had all kinds of questions for her. She spent the
flight telling me all about modelling. She was quite excited to be going
abroad. WeÕd be working for an important photographer, she said (Eveline
Elginton -- the name meant nothing to me, yet) and staying in a mansion
outside Venice, not in some hotel.
She was right on both counts. We were met at the airport by a
private limo. It whisked us out into the Italian countryside, leaving the
city and its charms, and problems, behind. We were told we could sightsee
all we wanted after our assignment was done. TheyÕd give us three extra
days, paid, just for that. In the meantime, however, we were introduced
to Heloise, whoÕd rented the mansion where weÕd be staying. I have no
idea who actually owned it. But Heloise was sort of our house mother
there, though not in any censorious way. She showed Katrina and I to our
private rooms. As the other models arrived, she showed them to their
rooms. A young bellboy carried everyoneÕs luggage. I thought he was kind
of cute -- almost cute enough to be a model. From my bedroom window I
watched everyone as they arrived. They were all young, up through the
mid-20Õs perhaps, both male and female. I noticed all of them were older
than me. I felt sort of special, being included with models who were older
and more experienced.
The sun set over the Italian hills as I watched the models arriving.
The bellhop appeared at my door and told me weÕd all be boarding a bus to
go to a nearby restaurant, if I wanted to come along. He said there was no
food in the mansion yet, although Heloise was busy getting it stocked.
There had been a delay or mixup of some kind. So, still wearing my
clothes from the plane, I went downstairs. We all got aboard a bus. It
was interesting, seeing all the other models close up. I sat in a seat next
to Katrina. We watched the scenery pass from our window as the bus
rolled into a nearby town. We offloaded at the restaurant. You can
imagine the other customersÕ pleased looks when they saw a whole bevy of
voluptuous girls and dreamboat men walk into the place! But we managed
to have a nice meal, spread out among the tables of the restaurant. I sat
with Katrina and another woman, who was perhaps 22. Her name was
Angela. She was from Russia She had flaming red hair that hung in loose,
natural curls all the way down her back. I felt sort of jealous of her. I
was just a typical American blonde, with long straight blonde hair down
my back, that had just a few waves in it. She looked at my bosom and told
me my breasts might get too big for me to be a fashion model. They were
already fairly large and heavy, as big as KatrinaÕs, and she was 16, two
years older than me.
ÒHave you ever considered getting your breasts reduced?Ó Angela
asked me. I looked back at her with wide eyes.
ÒNo,Ó I said.
ÒWell, itÕs a possibility,Ó Angela said. ÒKeep it in mind, or you may
wind up doing cheesecake work.Ó
ÒHave you had your breasts reduced?Ó Katrina asked. Her voice
seemed a little worried, for if I had breasts that were too big, she surely
did too, for our bosoms were almost identical.
Angela brushed her hair back. Her own bosoms, I thought, seemed a
bit big, compared to some models IÕd seen on runways and in magazines.
ÒNo,Ó she said. She sipped at her drink through a straw. ÒA doctor in
Russia offered to do it for free, if I would let him bed me.Ó Katrina and I
giggled. Angela smiled, kept sipping.
ÒItÕs not fair,Ó Katrina said. ÒWeÕre told to get our tits reduced, but
guys donÕt have to get their dicks reduced!Ó
Angela smiled. ÒYouÕd like for them to have to get their dicks
reduced?Ó she asked, still sipping on the straw in her drink. I giggled into
my hand.
ÒWell, I guess not,Ó Katrina said. Angela smiled, looked at me. I
smiled back, feeling conspiratorial, though she seemed, I think, to have a
deeper sense of it than I did.
We finished our supper and were loaded back onto the bus. We were
all pretty tired from our flights. Dinner at the restaurant had been our
first good meal all day, thanks to airplane food. Our stuffed stomachs
made us rather listless and sleepy on the ride back to the mansion.
Goodbyes were said as we filed from the bus and into the house. We all
went to our rooms. Heloise reminded us that weÕd have to be up early the
next morning, for our first dayÕs shoot with Eveline Elginton.
I fell right asleep. I didnÕt even bother to bathe. I donÕt know about
the others, but I slept right through the night. The excitement of my first
day abroad, all set to be a model, had kept me keyed-up all day. The
supper, mixed with a little wine, knocked me out. When I awoke in the
morning I belatedly took a shower. Then I slipped into my clothes and
hurried downstairs, to be ready for our departure at 7 a.m.
Heloise had apparently been trying to get a breakfast together for us
but Eveline, who I had yet to meet, had vetoed that. It was felt the
restaurant would be quicker. So, boarding the bus promptly at 7, we went
back to the restaurant. Then it was off to the place where weÕd do our
modelling.
It was a beach. It was open to the public, but fortunately it was a
weekday and there werenÕt too many bathers there. The beach was
fabulous, with slow, rolling waves gently washing its sandy shore. Being
from Iowa, I guess I found most any beach impressive, but this one was
quite photogenic. Eveline Elginton was already there, the famous
international photographer. She was set up with a crew of helpers. There
were lights, and cameras, just waiting for us to provide the action!
We offloaded from the bus. There was a small crowd of onlookers
but they were kept back by ropes. An assistant of EvelineÕs greeted us.
His name was Enrique. I thought he was rather handsome, in a fatherly
way. He had greying hair and looked mid-fortyish. His figure was straight
and erect, with broad shoulders. I wondered if he was a model too, or had
been one when he was younger.
Enrique walked us to a long table. It had a wind screen behind it, to
keep back the breeze. The table was piled with swimsuits that weÕd be
modelling. All the latest, of course. I knew my friends back in Iowa
would be jealous when they saw me in a new swimsuit they hadnÕt even
had a chance to buy yet. Posing in a fashion magazine, no less! I was quite
excited. There were two cabanas and we were told the one on the left was
for the men to change in, the one on the right for the women. There were
privies in them too, in case we needed to relieve ourselves.
Walking with Angela, Katrina and I made our way to the cabana.
There were perhaps a dozen females in all. Quickly we changed into the
bikinis EvelineÕs assistant had helped us pick out. Then it was back
outside, where we sat under sun umbrellas for the makeup people. There
were three of them in all, and they worked quickly, for they had two dozen
of us to do in all, both men and women. It looked rather strange to see
people stripped down to almost nothing, save for small bikinis or Speedos,
sitting having their makeup done. The guys, wearing newly fashionable
Ôball huggerÕ swimsuits, sat with their cocks upstanding in their suits as
makeup women assiduously combed their hair and powdered their features.
I admit I got a few hot flashes watching that. When I had to sit for
makeup I found my nipples were poking into my bra, quite visibly, for it
was just a swimsuit bra, made of lycra. I blushed, but nobody seemed to
mind. They knew I was brand-new to modelling.
We worked all morning. We tossed volleyballs, beachballs. We
played in the sand. We swam in the sea. All the while Eveline and her
helpers directed us, and photographed us. Whenever there was a free
moment we lounged under sun umbrellas or an open-fronted tent that was
already set up for our lunch. Eveline didnÕt want us to get too tanned. She
wished to keep us light-skinned, with just a soft tan on our limbs, and our
faces and bellies. The makeup people fixed our makeup whenever we
needed it and applied sun lotion judiciously. We couldnÕt look all shiny in
front of the cameras. We had to look natural, as if we were new at the
beach, in our new bikinis.
At lunch we had fresh steamed crabs, brought in by a caterer. After
lunch we changed into new bikinis, and Eveline photographed us some
more. Then, as it was Europe, we girls removed our bras and played with
the men topless while Eveline took photos of us. I was quite breathless at
first, being bare-bosomed like that. Katrina, though she hadnÕt posed
topless before, seemed to take it more in stride. Angela helped us both
feel less nervous. She was utterly casual as she walked around with just
a small thong-backed bikini on. She posed with us and told us not to feel
worried that a crowd of people were staring at us. We were models, it
was expected weÕd be looked at, and anyway the onlookers were watching
everyone, including Eveline (who remained dressed), and her camera men,
and the guys who were modelling with us. Of course it was the dreamboat
male models who were making me feel at least as nervous as the crowd
was. But they were polite, speaking to me softly and pretending not to
notice my bosoms, and how my nipples stood up so acutely. Angela
reminded me that the men, trapped in their Ôball-huggerÕ suits, had spent
the whole day with their pricks standing up in their suits. I could hardly
complain if my breasts were visible, when theyÕd had to show off their
credentials like that.
The sun sank low and Eveline called it a day. We retreated to the
cabanas and changed back into our clothes. The bus was summoned from a
nearby parking lot and we boarded it for home. It was nice, being models,
in the transportation department. Most people had to walk to the parking
lot to fetch their cars. But we had been granted special priviledges by the
beach authorities. Our bus could drive down the walkway that ran from
the parking lot to the beach, to pick us up, so we wouldnÕt be thronged
with passersby asking for favors or autographs.
I think we were all glad to retreat to our rooms for a shower when
we got back to the mansion. All day at the beach can leave you feeling
rather wind blown and salty, even if you are a pampered model. I bathed
myself and then changed into clothes. I wore shorts and a print shirt and
sneakers. I pulled my hair back and tied it off in a long pony tail. Heloise
had finally gotten the food in, and we were promised a casual, private
meal at the mansion. I went downstairs. There were tables set out on the
lawn, in the gathering dusk. Torches provided illumination, and a single
candle set on each table. I found Angela and Katrina sitting together at a
table and joined them. Waiters brought in by Heloise served us. It was
pleasant, unhurried. Two guys came and talked to us, Mark and Dave. They
were both hunks. I felt my heart beat faster as Dave, who I considered the
handsomer of the two, turned his eyes on me. Angela invited them to bring
their chairs over from their table and sit and eat dessert with us. We
would make room for them.
The menÕs skin seemed to glow from their long day at the beach.
They had full, hairy chests that theyÕd sheathed in t-shirts. They both
wore baggy boxer shorts, a far cry from what theyÕd been parading around
in all day. Both men wore rubber zories on their feet. They hadnÕt
bothered to tie themselves into sneakers like Katrina and Angela and I had.
Mark began feeding Katrina forkfulls of her cherry pie. Katrina
could, of course, have fed herself, but she accepted MarkÕs generosity and
let him put the food into her mouth for her. Dave tried the same trick
with Angela. She liked it so much that she moved from her chair to his
lap. I sat by myself, still feeding myself, and thinking perhaps that was
the best way, rather than having some man feed me, no matter how good-
looking he might be. But when Dave looked at me, and smiled, I shivered.
He kept feeding Angela but I sensed heÕd have fed me if IÕd asked him to, or
if Angela hadnÕt been there.
I donÕt know what my friends did that night, but I slept by myself,
with my teddy bear, that IÕd brought with me from America, keeping me
company in my bed. It had seemed quite important to me to bring teddy
along, when I first left Peoria. But when I awoke in the morning I looked
at him and felt rather empty inside. After all, the bellhop had insinuated
that he would enjoy spending the night with me, and a male model named
Steve had walked me to my room. But except for a quick, thankful kiss on
SteveÕs cheek, IÕd kept him at bay. The bellboy, despite his nice features,
IÕd laughted at. He, after all, wasnÕt even a model. So I regarded his offer
of night time companionship with something close to derision.
We had another long day at the beach. That night, at dinner, Angela,
sitting with me and Katrina again, and Dave and Mark and Steve (we put
two tables together), asked me a strange question.
ÒHave you ever done any erotic photography?Ó Angela asked me.
I looked startled.
ÒWhat?Ó I asked.
ÒYou know, nude photography, and sex and such things like that,Ó
Angela said.
ÒNo,Ó I replied. I had a cherry soda in a big, tall glass and I put my
lips over its straw to try to escape the conversation.
ÒAre you still a virgin?Ó Angela asked me. I felt myself shrink in my
chair. Everyone at the table, even Katrina, looked at me expectantly. I
sensed that I was unique.
ÒI- I tore my hymen riding a horse,Ó I admitted. Angela laughed.
ÒThat doesnÕt count,Ó she said. She brushed her long loose red curls
back away from her face. The men grinned at each other.
ÒAnd I-- I did it with a boy once,Ó I lied.
ÒWell, then, no harm in asking her,Ó Dave said to Angela.
ÒAlright, then,Ó Angela said to me. ÒWe have an offer to do some
erotic photography. A friend of EvelineÕs. ItÕs a woman, donÕt worry, so
sheÕll be sensitive to your--Ó AngelaÕs voice broke off. I expected to hear
the word ÔinexperienceÕ but she spared saying it, leaving her sentence
unfinished. Steve, whoÕd been so sweet to walk me upstairs last night,
coughed. From nervous expectation or what, I donÕt know. I know I was
feeling tense and nervous! I popped my straw in my mouth and sucked at
my cherry soda. The men, the fiends, admired my lips as I sucked on it,
but I knew no other quick way to silence my part in the conversation.
Angela paid no heed to the fact that I was busy sipping my soda.
ÒWeÕll get a good rest tonight,Ó she said, still looking at me. At me! As if
IÕd slept with someone other than my teddy bear last night or, indeed, on
any night of my life! ÒThe men, you know, have to be up to the job.Ó She
turned her eyes from me, glanced at Dave, then back at me. ÒSo what do
you say? You can do more work at the beach tomorrow, out all day in the
hot sun, or you can enjoy indoor comforts.Ó
Honestly, I had no idea how to respond. The beach was fun but I felt
my heart palpitating at the offer I was being given. I didnÕt want to say
yes, or no. ÒIÕm too young,Ó I said finally, lifting my lips from my straw.
ÒThis is Europe, darling. And southern Europe at that,Ó Angela said.
ÒYou donÕt have to be a child if you donÕt want to be. Not here. But itÕs up
to you,Ó she added.
I looked at Katrina. She was my best friend, why wasnÕt she helping
me out of this? Because, I saw in her fiery young eyes, sheÕd already
agreed to do it. She was from Chicago. A big city. She wasnÕt a small
town girl, like me. I felt a twinge of jealousy and blurted out, without
thinking, ÒOkay!Ó Then I retreated to my straw again.
Heloise appeared at our table. ÒHi, guys,Ó she said, addressing us all.
ÒIs your dinner okay?Ó
ÒSure,Ó Steve answered. ÒWhatÕs for dessert?Ó
ÒThat depends on how exotic you want to get,Ó Heloise smiled. She
wore a t-shirt that sheÕd knotted below her breasts, plus shorts. She let
her hips sway forward, showing him the flat expanse of her neat,
suntanned belly.
ÒThanks, but IÕll just take the pie with ice cream on it,Ó Steve
answered with a grin.
ÒVanilla?Ó Heloise asked. As easily as if she hadnÕt been rejected at
all, she pulled a pencil from behind her ear and produced a pad and wrote
on it. ÒWhat kind of pie?Ó
ÒCherry,Ó Steve said.
30
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