Jean Sifton - Underground model

A soft knocking at her bedroom door interrupted her enraptured thoughts, and she quickly drew the bedspread over her nakedness.

"Who is it?" Patricia called.

"It's just me," Jennifer answered. "Are you decent?" Without waiting for an answer, the girl pushed the door open and came into the room. She stopped short in apparent surprise when she saw Patricia's naked body outlined under the thin bedspread. "Oh, you're not dressed… and here it is almost noon! Well, never mind, dear, I'm not that prudish, you know."

Patricia blushed at her last remark, knowing it was directed at her shy habit of either leaving the room or turning her head away whenever she walked into Jennifer's room and found the girl in the nude. Which happened very frequently, since Jennifer seemed to spend most of her time either naked or in a scantily-dressed condition. The girl never missed an opportunity to tease Patricia about this – and though Patricia tried to cure herself of her innate shyness when confronted by the nudity of her own sex, she could never seem to get over the silly inhibition.

Jennifer was an intelligent girl, and Patricia envied her self-assuredness and composure that she seemed to maintain under any and all circumstances. However, the novelty of Jennifer's way of life was beginning to pall; she knew she didn't really fit into her group because they had an entirely different up-bringing from her and, besides, they had never known the security of a home life which Patricia found she still longed for. Maybe her rebellion against her parents didn't mean that she rejected their philosophy of life entirely… maybe she had been wrong to leave home in such haste.

"What's wrong?" Jennifer asked. "You look down in the dumps."

"Oh not much, I guess," Patricia answered, halfheartedly gazing back at her roommate, and secretly envying her beautiful dark looks.

Jennifer Hunt was a tall and lissome, dark-haired girl in her late twenties who seemed to maintain a substantial income from the rental of the two small beach bungalows, and working part-time as a model. Many times before, Patricia had urged her to show the stills of her past modeling, wanting to compare them to her own portfolio, but each time, Jennifer had put her off, making the excuse that they were not really good samples of her work. Finally, Patricia had stopped asking, silently resenting Jennifer's reluctance to show them, and passed it off as Jennifer's subtle way of fighting competition within the trade.

Now, she stood before Patricia in full confidence, dressed deliberately in the sloppiest fashion possible. At the moment, she wore a faded polo-necked sweater and a pair of tight, blue jeans. They had shrunk through countless immersions in the washer until they now stretched only as far as the girl's calves, while around her crotch, they clung so tightly that the outline of her sex was plainly visible. Her long, dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders in uncombed tangles, almost hiding one side of her face. Jennifer wore no makeup, and relied on the sun to softly tan her cheeks to a soft amber tone, though it did little to hide the perpetual circles of dark around her eyes, mementos of a thousand sleepless nights high on Benzedrine or other pep pills. The whole effect served to give her a striking, gaunt appearance that was not totally attractive, in spite of her classical, even bone structure.

Jennifer carried herself with the casual, sleek grace of a stalking panther, her hips slim and narrow, jutting up to her amply ballooning breasts, still firm enough to hold their shape without the support of a brassiere. Now, as she ambled over to where Patricia sat, her buttocks rippled under the tight material, revealing their firmly-rounded fleshiness with each step she took.

"Cheer up Sport," she said. "I've got some good news for a change. First and foremost… I'm going to throw a blast tomorrow night. God knows it's about time, this place is getting too dull for words. And to liven up the show, I'm going to treat my guests to a super new supply of hashish." She laughed at the surprised look on Patricia's face. "Well, don't just sit there like you've got a bad taste in your mouth," she said good-naturedly as she flopped into the over-stuffed easy chair by the window, "you know, I must say you're just about the most unhip roommate I've ever had, and to change all that, this time I'm going to insist that you have a few puffs with the rest of us."

Patricia smiled, ignoring her last comment. She had never tried hashish before, and wasn't really interested in getting "high", but Jennifer always insisted that she was missing a good thing by not trying the drug… perhaps this time she would.

"So what else is new," Patricia asked drily, lighting up another cigarette.

"Just wait till you hear this!" Jennifer jumped up from the chair with a new wave of enthusiasm and sat next to Patricia on the bed. "Two real good friends of mine, Larry and Ellen Holmes, are looking for new models. They run a photo studio over in Santa Monica, and they've got a big reputation in the business."

"That sounds great," Patricia said, "what do they specialize in?"

"Well, 'er… right now they're looking for cheesecake models, you know, the fresh dewy type, like in the Playboy foldouts." She placed her hand on Patricia's arm. "Pat, I know you're just the type to fill the bill, I'd go myself, if I were a few years younger."

"I don't know," she hesitated, "I never thought of posing for pin-ups before… besides I'm mainly interested in breaking into fashion… not, something like that."

"Don't be a fool." Jennifer took the cigarette from Patricia and took a deep drag. "You've been pounding the pavement for months with no luck yet. Hollywood is a tough place, kid, and I'm giving you a chance to at least get a start. Larry phoned me this morning, and I set up an appointment for you. If you want to back out, that's up to you, but don't say you never got a chance at it."

"I'm sorry, Jennifer, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful… I'm just not sure I want to get into that type of modeling."

"Listen, believe it or not, I do happen to know people who have perfectly respectable businesses!" Jennifer chided. "Larry and Ellen, incidentally… they're brother and sister… operate this legal, absolutely proper pin-up concern. Artistic, glamour pictures… some in the nude, some in lingerie. And they pay fifty dollars an hour, even for models like you without experience! If nothing else, at least be practical. How many weeks do you have to go before your savings run out?"

"Only a few," she said slowly starting to accept the idea. The last thing she wanted to do now was to go back home a failure and prove to her parents that they were right from the beginning.

"Well, if you really think it's wrong to pose in your underwear or in the nude… forget it. I know Larry and Ellen want their models to look natural and relaxed when they pose."

Patricia leaned back on the pillow, unconsciously letting the bedspread slip down the rising buds of her pointed nipples. The thought of posing for Larry and Ellen Holmes was gradually taking the shape of an exciting adventure in her mind. After all, hundreds of famous actresses had started their careers by posing for such photos, and had gone on later to greater fame and stardom. During her adolescence, she had secretly nursed her dreams on the glossy issues of Hollywood magazines, which was her one escape from the dull suburban reality that she lived in. These dreams had always inspired her, and was actually the reason why she chose a modeling career in the first place. She could remember all of her girl friends in high school, always talking of marriage and a family, but she had never been attracted to the thought of long years of dull, routine, boring home-life. No, that was definitely not the life for Patricia Massey, and she had known it for years.