Jean Sifton - Underground model

During those long peaceful nights in Mark's arms, she had confided these dreams to him while they were resting from the heated exertion of their lovemaking. Those moments had been wonderful and unforgettable, with just the two of them alone together, sharing their individual hopes and aspirations. He had admitted to her that he saw himself as an avant-garde novelist, writing stories which depicted the hypocrisy that existed in the social mores of the twentieth century. Most of all, he wanted to play his part in the sexual revolution which was now gaining momentum by helping to destroy the final remnants of Puritanism and neurotic guilt which still prevented complete freedom in the arts.

His visions had inspired Patricia, and that night he told her of a world where sex and nudity were accepted everywhere without fear and shame. She could recall the passion in his voice when he spoke, and now she wanted to help him in her small way by proving to herself that she could live up to his beliefs. She might be playing only a tiny role in the emancipation of sex by posing for nude photographs, but at least she would be taking part in it.

The thought of this new adventure of free expression sent tiny shivers of excitement up her legs and back, and suddenly she felt very grateful to have such an unselfish friend like Jennifer. She looked at Jennifer with a new sense of admiration and friendship for the girl.

"You must think I'm awfully stupid," she said, leaning over and squeezing Jennifer's hand. "Of course, I'd love to have the job… when do I start?"

Jennifer looked back at her with surprise. "Well!" she exclaimed, "I'm glad to see that you're using your head, for a while there I was sure you were going to turn Larry's offer down. But, before I call him back, are you sure you don't want to think it over a little longer?"

"No… no, I'm positive about this, Jennifer. I feel sure now that this might be the big break I've been waiting for, it just took me a little while to get over the shock… that's all."

"That's great, kid," she said. "I made your appointment for Monday morning so you'd have a little time to rest after the party, at least you'll have something to celebrate now." She glanced down with admiration at Patricia's firm, white breasts. "I know Larry and Ellen will be very satisfied with you, so don't get stage fright."

Patricia blushed and pulled the bedspread up to her shoulders, not realizing before that she had been so exposed to her roommate's eyes.

"Oh, come now," Jennifer mockingly drew her own arms in front of her. "You'll have to get rid of some of that prudery before Monday, if I bother you, how do you think you'll react before a camera… with a man behind it!"

Patricia blushed again and nodded her head. "I know I'm shy, Jennifer… but I can change… I know I can." Then a thought struck Patricia. "Incidentally, how long have you known Larry and Ellen?"

"A few years," she replied. "On and off, that is, you know how it is in the trade. But don't worry, I've done lots of posing for them before, and you have nothing to worry about."

"Did your work with them ever lead to anything else?" Patricia asked.

"Anything else like what?" Jennifer said giving her a strange look.

"Well… like bigger stuff… you know what I mean… magazine work, talent scouts…"

Jennifer smiled. "No, I'm afraid it didn't," she said. "For one thing, I don't have your innocent, fresh appeal… besides, I was already too experienced and cynical when I met Larry and Ellen to be a new discovery. You have to understand that what people want in their sort of business is girls who show their bodies off but still retain a quality of innocence… as if they don't really know what sex is all about…"

Jennifer had a sad, distant look in her eyes and her lips were set in a firm line as she paused and took another drag off the cigarette. Patricia felt a sudden rush of sympathy and compassion for her roommate, for she realized that Jennifer's maturity had been forced upon her at an earlier age. She had grown up too fast, experiencing everything there was to see and live, and now, sitting there so close to her, Patricia realized what it was that made Jennifer seem incomplete: she had no more dreams to dream, or ambitions to seek… That's why she lived, for the here and now, and getting "high" was probably her only escape from the self-made prison that enclosed her.

"Whatever that inner spark is that a photographer seeks, I just didn't have it," Jennifer continued. "I don't think I ever had it." She made a gesture as if to shrug off the solemn mood that permeated the room, but the bitterness in her voice and words saddened Patricia, though she knew there was little she or anyone could do to help Jennifer.

Jennifer leaned back on the end of the bed and put her hands behind her head. "Anyway, let's change the subject, talking about myself is just about the dullest thing I can imagine!"

Patricia could feel the warmth of Jennifer's thighs next to her feet under the thin material of the bedspread. They were slightly trembling and despite the older girl's outward display of cool cynicism, Patricia could see that her eyes were slightly moist with unshed tears.

"Don't be afraid to show your true feelings around me," Patricia said with understanding. "You're my best friend, so don't try to act so cool and detached. If there's anything you want to get off your chest, you can tell me… but don't keep it all locked up inside you Jennifer, I can't stand to see you suffer like this."

Jennifer looked up at her with hopeless misery in her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and trembling.

"Oh Pat… I could tell you so many things," she half whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Then tell me Jennifer… I'm not trying to pry. I don't care how you've lived before," Patricia urged her softly. "You'll feel a lot better after you've talked about it. It might make a tremendous difference to confide in someone… someone who's really sympathetic and only wants to help you."

Jennifer crawled up to the front of the bed and positioned herself next to Patricia like a small child seeking comfort from her mother after a bad nightmare. "My story," she began, her eyes staring fixedly across the room… "is as old as time itself… I loved and lost. Only there is one slight difference: the person I loved and who rejected me happened to be another woman."

Patricia froze! A strange, sinking feeling… like the first downward dip on a roller coaster churned inside her stomach. But there was nothing she could do about her position, after all, it was she who urged Jennifer to tell her her problems, and she had to stick it out now, or the older girl would never have faith in anyone… ever again.

She continued to listen breathlessly as Jennifer related, in brief, unemotional terms, the facts of her first love affair, a growing curiosity awakening in her as she looked down at the older girl and realized that she had known the intimate caresses of another member of her own sex.

Patricia herself had never, so far as she was aware, ever met a lesbian before now. Certainly, she had never been approached by another girl or even felt the slightest desire to experiment with bodies identical to her own. But gradually, as Jennifer's voice calmly narrated her early experiences, Patricia could feel a slowly mounting interest in such strange pleasures. It was as if she were a small child again, becoming aware that there existed certain mysterious areas of behavior which, up to the present, had been completely forbidden to her.

She lowered her eyes and tried to hide the spark of growing excitement within her as Jennifer told her of the earlier painful experiences she had endured as a young girl. When Jennifer was fifteen, she had fallen helplessly and totally in love with a much older girl, who, in return, had merely used her as an instrument of pleasure. Jennifer found out later that she meant nothing more to the lesbian than a soft, exciting body which she could use and instruct in the secret delight of Sapphic love.