Gilda Grayson - The exhibitionist wife

"Susan," she filled in for him. "I'm number one hundred fifteen… and I'm sorry, the time's up."

"Do you have some other numbers to go along with your name… like a telephone number?"

"I'm sorry, Sir… that's against the rules. The only other numbers I can give you are: thirty-eight, twenty-five, thirty-six!" She fielded his attempt to establish a liaison, easily, casually, and walking to the door, pushed the call-bell button signaling Linda Sloan at the front desk that she was finished; then with a friendly smile she went on, "You can leave your film with Miss Sloan as you go out."

The message was clear. He had been told in a thoroughly professional way that his time was up. Turning to leave reluctantly, he asked as he swung the door open, "If I decide to come back, again, is it possible to make an appointment, so I'll be sure to get you…"

"Yes, Sir, it is," she assured him. "Miss Sloan will issue you an identity number."

"I see," he mused. "The customer's are protected, too!"

"Yes, Sir, Miss Sloan made up the system, and she insists that everyone be anonymous." She took the doorknob on the inside and began closing the door. Linda Sloan also didn't like for her models and their customers to spend any extra time in conversation.

Just then, Miss Sloan appeared in the hallway, meeting Susan's client as he came out the door. "I hope you've enjoyed your session with Susan, here at The Camera's Eye, Sir," she said, smoothly, escorting the gentleman along the hall toward the front office.

"Oh, yes… very much…"

Over her shoulder, Linda Sloan addressed Susan. "I have one more client for you, dear… then you can take your break."

"All right, Miss Sloan." She closed the door and waited for yet another stranger to come in for the purpose of taking nude pictures of her. Invariably, it seemed, they would be older men taking a voyeur's delight in the loveliness of her body. Some would be shy, only wanting to look and take pictures, barely saying anything to her. Others only wanted to talk, forgetting to take any pictures at all… but there were others who made it clear that they were interested in her to the extent of making passes, fondling and caressing. Those men, of course, were asked to leave her alone. If they persisted… she asked them to leave. Beyond that, a secret signal would bring Linda Sloan and one of the male models to her room, and the customer would be escorted to the street.

As she sat down on the mattress covered with a fake tiger's fur spread, Susan Merril thought about the strange way she was making extra money. It was better than being a Library Clerk at the university. The work was easy: all she had to do was pose nude for the voyeuristic clients. For this she was paid six dollars and fifty cents for each half-hour session, and most days she was only on hand for four or five hours.

She remembered how shocked her husband, Ron, had been when she had told him she had quit her job at the library to take this job at The Camera's Eye.

"Do you mean to say," Ron had asked with troubled brown eyes, "that you're going to strip naked so these kinky guys can photograph you…?"

"That's right, darling… but it's strictly business. If the customers break the rules, out they go!"

"Look but don't touch, is that it?"

"Yes!" she answered. "Look, here's one of Miss Sloan's business cards."

He took the card and read:

THE CAMERA'S EYE, Rent-a-Model, Camera furnished, Film processed and printed, The studio choice of discerning lensmen.

"What happens if some guy tries to get funny with you…?"

"There are some men working as models, too… and they give them the heave-ho!"

"Hell! It's kinkier than I thought, then, if she's got Muscle Beach boys there, too!"

"I don't understand, Ron…?"

"Well… they must be there for the gay ones to take pictures of!" he explained. "Are there any butch types come…?"

"You mean women… who…?"

"Yeah, you know, lesbians…?"

"I don't know…?"

"Well… I wouldn't be surprised…"

In the end, Susan had gone to work at The Camera's Eye, because she could earn more money there, it was necessary. If Ron were to finish up the work on his doctorate, it was up to her to help him get it. Some of the grants in aid had been withdrawn from the university, and it was a hard decision for Ron and Susan to make. Her husband was already well into his course work, his thesis subject selected and approved by the Graduate Committee, and he had begun the grueling research work. If he had to leave school, now, it would be harder to come back, later, to finish up the requirements for the degree. Susan volunteered to drop out of her own studies to go to work, but the job in the university library just didn't pay enough, making it necessary for Ron to take time from his studies to earn living money. That was when Susan heard about The Camera's Eye. Her photogenic, blonde beauty and her lovely figure got her the job immediately.

It was a terribly frightened, nervous and apprehensive Susan Merril, who took off all of her clothing for the first time… while a man, a total stranger, watched her with avid eyes, adjusted his camera, turned on the photo floodlights and began taking pictures of her naked loveliness. Some of the poses she had been asked to assume were, to say the least, obscene, but as time passed she became accustomed to being asked for certain poses.

… And, there was a certain excitement in it, too. She knew what some of the men were thinking. Their conversation, the words and gestures they used in getting her into positiom were highly descriptive… and erotic. "Now, baby… I want you to put both hands down there… on either side of your cunt… and pull it apart for me…!"

Or, another might tell her, "Roll your nipples in your fingers to get them hard… then wet them with some saliva!" Yet another would order, "I want to get a shot of your chit… while it's all nice and hard!" Or: "Shove a couple of your fingers in your cant…!"

Once, after she had had a whole series of such lewd requests, especially one involving a huge dildo, a customer had brought along with him, she had complained to Linda Sloan, the owner, about it.

"As long as the customer doesn't touch you," Linda explained, "I've said that they can pose you any way they want!"

"… But…" Susan didn't know exactly how to say it. She tried, "Some of them talk so filthy… and when they ask me to do certain things… it makes me…"

"Makes you what…?" Linda's jade-green eyes questioned.

"Well… they're talking about sex… and wanting me to do things to myself… and…"

"And, you get all aroused…?"

"Yes… that's it…" Susan breathed.

Linda Sloan smiled a secret, little smirk as she answered, "Most of the girls have reported things like that… but I suppose the only thing you can do is get used to it. It seems to be a part of the picture. Of course… if you want to quit… it's up to you. I've got a whole drawer full of applications, so there's no problem in getting a replacement for you…"

The meaning of Miss Sloan's dismissal of her complaint was very clear: Do what's asked… or quit! Susan decided not to quit… but she was also very sure that she'd never get used to being in a sexually, half-aroused state during her working hours.

Then, as she sat there musing, the door to her studio opened and a short, stocky, gray-haired man walked in carrying a Polaroid color camera. Susan recognized him; the man had come to The Camera's Eye several times before this, and each time he had asked for Susan, number one hundred and fifteen. He also always rented one of the studio's cameras.

"Hello, there, Susan baby!" he smiled broadly. "I'm back again!"

"Hello…" Susan grinned shyly, not bothering to get up. She knew that this man wanted to take most of his pictures of her while she was lying down. Loosening the belt of her robe she began to pull it off. "What kind of poses do you want, today…?"