Tabitha Britton: Skin-flick slut

I looked down sheepishly; Phil kept leering at me from behind the desk. He was making me really nervous; I was quite used to being leered at, but this time it was a guy offering me a job. Not that he was bad looking – on the contrary, he was pretty gorgeous and had a nice body, and looked great in that casual suit, I'd been attracted to him from the second I walked into the room. But he was being really obvious about it; I could tell he wanted me to know that he approved of me. He let his eyes slide over my body from top to bottom, starting at my ankles and running slowly up my bare legs – I usually don't wear pantyhose to interviews. Then, he'd slowly stroke my upper thighs with his gaze, making sure I was watching as he examined my pale, bare flesh. I crossed and uncrossed my legs nervously, feeling my thighs rub sensuously together; every time I did, I could see him trying in vain to get a glimpse of my skirt. I was wearing the shortest decent skirt I owned; I always wore it to interviews because I knew what kind of effect it had on the interviewers. It was made out of thin, clingy silky material so that it showed a lot of the outline of my upper thighs – and occasionally when I walked it would sway up dangerously close to my buttocks. But for now I was sitting down, and Phil couldn't see a thing. I had to admit, though, it sort of turned me on to have this good-looking guy trying to get a glance up my skirt. After stroking my pretty ass as it pressed against the seat, Phil would look slowly over my midriff and my breasts, which stretched out through this tight Oxford shirt. He'd examine them closely, making my nipples feel all tingly as he looked; I could feel them getting hard after a while and knew that he had noticed from the tiny smile he gave me. My erect nipples stretched through the Oxford shirt and my thin, lacy bra underneath; Phil leered at them and I didn't doubt he was wondering what they felt like. Then, he looked over the slope of my cleavage, which bulged out from the shirt which I always left open as far as I could. He eyed my neck, and my shoulders where my long blonde hair flowed down over them and then he'd watch my face. I know how gorgeous I am, with high cheekbones and pale skin that flushes deep red when I get even a little turned on – like I was right now. And my eyes are big and wide and bright blue – guys always love them. Besides having a great body, I'm beautiful – which is a must in this business. You've got to have both, or you'll never get the work. And I loved the work like I love nothing else.

He was looking at my resume, and the photos I'd brought in it. They were photos I was proud of – they never failed to get a hard-on out of a guy who looked at them. And I knew what they were doing to Phil. He looked over my references, smiling to himself.

He read my name slowly, as if trying it out. "Tanya Marimont. It's a pretty name."

"I like it," I said, eyeing him flirtatiously. "I don't know," said Phil. "I'm not sure you're out for the magazine."

I looked down, trying not to meet his eyes. I needed this job – I had to keep working in magazines, and I wasn't making much lately. And Beauty was the best-paying magazine I'd ever interviewed for – they even kept their own photographers on staff. Their photos were great – I was always really impressed whenever I picked up the mag. I knew they'd do wonderful things with my body. I just had to work here! From the way Phil was acting, I was sure he liked my looks – but would he ask for more than looks before he let me have the job?

"You're just, well, you know – too gorgeous, I guess," he went on. "Don't get me wrong – you've got a great body and all. A wonderful body, believe me, Tanya, I'm sure any guy who reads the magazine would love to look at it. But you're so pretty. I'm not sure you look sexy enough. Just looking at these pictures, the readers can't tell how kinky you are."

I lifted my eyes, meeting Phil's gaze. I gave him my most seductive look, trying to let him know I could change on a moment's notice. And let him know how much I wanted the job. I bit my lip, being as sexy as I knew how. "Oh, I'm very kinky."

Phil chuckled. "Oh, are you?"

"The copy will convince them how kinky I am, that's for sure." I bit my finger, licking it slightly as Phil watched. "I'm a real kinky slut on film."

"But it's how you look, too, Tanya. You can talk dirty in the interview, and it'll get us all off. But your looks have to go with it – you have to look like a horny, wet girl who just can't get enough. And you're off to a good start in these stills – I'm pretty amazed, you know. But you look so innocent from some angles."

"That's just the makeup," I said. "I've got other stills with me being a real slut. Heavy makeup, leather… I really like those kinds of shots, too."

"I don't know," he said. "You've got good references. But it's hard to tell. I'd like to see more of you before I agree to assign a photographer."

"Uh-huh," I said, eagerly leaning forward. Phil watched closely as I smiled at him.

"I mean, it's fine to see pictures of you naked. And you look great in person. But with those clothes on…" He smiled back. "It's hard to tell what you're really like."

I stood up. "It's really important to me," I said, smoothing down my skirt and making sure my shoulders were straight and perfect so my tits stretched enticingly toward Phil. "I really want this job. Beauty magazine is one of the places I've wanted to work for years."

Phil nodded slowly. "I bet it is. But just from the pictures, I can't tell if you're right." I thought I saw a smile. "I don't know if you're really a slut. I don't know what you're like up close – or how kinky you really are. Or how horny."

I smiled. "I've got an answer," I said. I went to the windows and pulled the shades, slowly, one by one. I threw a glance at the big velvet couch sitting in the corner of the office, away from the desk. The room was sort of dark with all the shades drawn; Phil looked me up and down in the dimness as I moved closer to the desk. I stood in front of it and reached slowly toward the top button of my Oxford shirt.

"I really hate clothes at interviews," I said. "They really keep you from finding out what I'm going to do on film." I kept smiling as I pulled the top button, exposing the lace of my skimpy bra. I opened the second button as Phil watched intently, then the third. I finished undoing the shirt and pulled it wide open over my large breasts. Phil's gaze got hungrier and more lustful as he ran his eyes over my lace-covered tits and my beautiful midriff. I eased my way out of the shirt and slid it over my shoulders, dropping it on the floor. Then I took the zipper of my tight miniskirt and started easing it down over my hips.

"I really need this job," I said. "I want to make sure you see me up close – and totally naked – so that you don't make the wrong decision. I know how great I look on film – and in person. I don't want to lose this job because you think I'm too virginal. I really want to convince you otherwise. I can be a real slut if the assignment calls for it. I'm more than willing to do my part. If I can get the right photographer, the right photo editor… I can be such a slut on film the readers will cream just looking at me. I love being a slut in pictures. And my body is great."

I tugged the zipper down, easing it over my white flesh. I got the skirt open and let it fall down my long, shapely legs, letting it bunch around my ankles. I smiled as I stepped out of it; now I wore only my incredibly skimpy g-string panties and my tight lacy bra. Both were jet black; I knew how great I looked in them. My huge tits stretched through the material of the bra, showing my erect nipples; I was really turned on. I love taking off my clothes. Just knowing that guys are looking at my body and getting a hard-on really gets me wet. And I especially love doing it in front of people who are going to give me a job. Phil was watching me with real fire in his eyes – under that desk I was sure he already had a huge erection. I didn't doubt that he was aching to put it to good use. But first, he'd get a really good look at me.