Chapter One

 

The rent was so low it was like an offer I couldn't refuse. Even so, I wavered. Sharing a house could mean problems if you didn't get along with your roomies, and I had my doubts about Shane and Andrea.

They almost screamed 'hipster' in the way they talked - with this kind of smirking, know-it-all, pseudo jaded voice and tone, the way they dressed in the most fashionable grunge, the visible tattoos, the piercings, the hairstyles - his gelled, hers a slightly spiky pageboy, and the way they slouched around.

I'm a non-nonsense, blue collar, working girl. I live in the real world. I work in a restaurant, and am studying hospitality by correspondence. I have little patience for that kind of eye-rolling pretension. I also wasn't all that impressed by the way Shane kept staring at my chest.

On the plus side, the room was really nice, it was large, had a bay window view of the park, crown molding, and was already mostly furnished, albeit with old fashioned stuff. It was also cheap, and within walking distance of where I worked, at the Keg. I could store my bike in the back yard, get tanned on the deck, and there were grocery stores in the neighborhood.

"So what do you guys do?" I asked.

"I work at the Civic Hospital as an orderly," Shane said.

That surprised me since he was kind of a skinny looking guy.

"He works the midnight shift," Andrea said. "Sleeps in the day. I work at The Camera Store, which is a shop on Walter Street."

"Cool," I said thoughtfully.

Since I worked evenings the three of us would hardly see each other, which seemed perfect.

"I'll take it," I said.

"Excellent!" Shane said.

And make sure I keep my door locked whenever I undress, I thought uncharitably. Shane struck me as the kind of guy who would 'accidentally' walk in on a girl. But if he worked midnights he'd mostly be gone when I was in bed.

"Now we can get a threesome going!" he said, grinning.

"In your dreams," I said.

"You can bet on that," Andrea replied with a sniff.

I moved in a few days later, accepting most of the furniture they already had there, though Shane helped me move the mattress into the basement to make room for my own.

"Bet that bed got a lot of action," he said. "The guy who was here before you was a real player."

"Spare me," I said, shifting my hands to grip the mattress more from the corners.

I threw my own mattress atop the slatted wood which crossed the bed frame, then laid down my freshly washed sheets and my duvet. I like greenery but I'm absent minded about taking care of them, so most of my plants are plastic. Still, they looked nice in the corners. And I did have real plants in the bay window.

There was a padded window seat there which I knew would be an excellent place to read and study.

When you're not rich, you don't get to take the day off to move, much less several days. I had to go in that night, and was a bit doubtful about it. I mean, should I lock my door? It wasn't like I had much to steal, thought Shane struck me as a bit of a perve, which was only to say he was male and in his early twenties. I imagined him rifling through my lingerie drawer as soon as I was gone.

At The Keg, we all wear little black dresses with high heels. They show some cleavage, but not a ton, because that wouldn't go with the classy image they try to put out. They're thin and short and tight, though, and made of some kind of stretchy, wrinkle-free material.

That made it easy to dress for work. I just threw on the little black dress, pulled a pair of jeans on, tucking the dress into the jeans, and threw a sweater on over top, then I got my bike and drove about two minutes to get to the restaurant!

The Keg is a steakhouse, kind of upper middle class or so. The food is good, but expensive, and the tips are generally pretty good, especially if you're reasonably young, pretty and friendly, which I am. The little black dresses didn't hurt either, since it was mostly men who paid the tab, and so decided on the tip.

I worked from four to midnight, and let me tell you after walking around in three inch heels for eight hours your feet are sore! I was glad to put them back into my backpack, get on the bike, and head home at midnight, and glad that the trip would be so quick, short and easy.

Nothing looked out of line with my room. Shane was gone and Andrea was in bed. Perfect! I stripped and decided to take a quick shower. The Keg is a nice place, but you still get the smell of food all over you when you work there all evening.

I have long blonde hair. It's a bit of a pain at times but I like the look, and I like the tips. I had waist length hair when I was younger, but that got in the way too much, so now it's basically just down to my shoulder blades, and it's mostly straight and parted in the middle for ease of maintenance.

First thing I discovered about the bathroom was that it got really hot and steamy even after a short shower. The house was old, and there was no fan. There was a window, but the air was still and warm out tonight, and I wasn't about to draw the curtains given someone could be out in the park watching.

I cracked the bathroom door open a foot to let the humid air out, used a towel to wipe down the foggy mirror, and picked up the brush and hair dryer. I didn't intend to put a lot of time into styling my hair since I was going to bed soon but I did have to at least dry it or it'd be a horrific mess come morning.

I first turned the hair dryer on the mirror, though, hoping to clear out more of the dampness on it, then turned it on my own hair as I brushed it up and away from my face.

Given I was only wearing a little black thong I let out a brief scream when a face appeared in the doorway and pushed it wider! But I felt a quick sense of relief as I recognized Andrea, clad in a short T-back muscles shirt and panties, and snapped off the dryer.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

She shook her head, eyes sleepy. "No, having a hard time falling asleep tonight. It's hot out."

"We should get air conditioning," I said, turning the hair dryer back on.

"The house is old. The wiring doesn't like it," she said, raising her voice to be hard over the dryer.

You ever try to carry on a conversation over a hair dryer? Forget it! I expected her to turn away, but instead she just leaned against the door jamb watching me. Which was ... weird, since while I'm not especially embarrassed about my body I'm not an exhibitionist, and she wasn't exactly ignoring that I was nearly naked.

I mean, she wasn't exactly staring at my bare breasts, but her eyes did look me up and down, and maybe not lustfully but kind of, uhm, approvingly...

I finished quickly.

"You have a great body," she said, nodding her head.

"Uhm, thanks," I said.

"Shane would love your tits."

I snorted. "All guys love tits." I glanced at her. "You're not exactly flat chested."

"No, but you're bigger and rounder. What are you, thirty six C cup?"

I nodded and shrugged, vaguely uneasy with the conversation, put down the hair dryer and pulled on a robe.

"You must work out. Your tits are awfully firm for being so big, and your stomach looks really toned."

"I walk around carrying stuff all day long," I said. "But yes, I have a gym membership."

"I mostly stand behind the cash, though I do walk around helping people looking for stuff. Not much carrying to do, though. And I can't really afford a gym."

"You can exercise here, though to be honest you look fine."

She did look fine. She was shorter than me, but slender, with a nice little butt and what looked like a decent chest.

"Yeah, cuz I'm twenty two. I'm not toned like you, though."

"You could exercise here. Run up and down the stairs, for one thing. Do yoga or Pilates. Get a couple of dumbbells and swing them around."

"Shane says I should do pole dancing."

"Yes, well. Guys," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm kind of short for it. I think you'd be great at that, though, at dancing I mean."

"I love dancing, but I don't need a pole. I used to do kick boxing when I was younger."

"Really? There's a, like, punching bag hanging in the attic."

"Yeah?"

"It's hot as shit up there, though, at least in the day. You'll sweat like a pig."

"That's one way to keep in shape," I said. "As long as you drink lots of liquids to hydrate yourself."

"Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?"

She had tattoos running up her left arm from the wrist to her shoulder, and others visible on her right shoulder. I was willing to be there were more beneath her t-shirt.

I shook my head.

"When I look at your naked body I see a blank canvas," she said. "And I imagine what tattoos would look good on it and where."

"I like my body looking the way it is," I said, blushing only slightly. "That must have hurt." I nodded at her arm.

She shrugged. "Not really, and you don't get it all at once. "This one hurt a bit," she said, lifting her tank up to show a dragon curling diagonally across her stomach. "This one was just annoying."

She turned and showed me an owl across her lower back, then turned around again.

"Have you ever considered doing any modeling?"

I stared at her. "No," I said dismissively.

"Why not? You're very pretty."

"I'm not that pretty," I said, blushing again, "And not that tall."

"Yeah, you're too short for fashion modeling, but there's a lot of modeling, like for bathing suits and lingerie, for example. You'd do great there. And it pays well."

"I don't think so," I said.

"It pays well. In fact, I could take a few pictures."

I looked at her in surprise.

"I make some money selling pictures to advertising agencies," she said. "Mostly you'll never see the pictures because they appear in magazines that most people never even look at. When was the last time you read a magazine other than the likes of People or something?"

"Well uh..."

The truth was I didn't read People either. I couldn't remember the last magazine I'd read. People still read magazines?

"Let me take a picture of you like you were just now and send it to a few agencies to see if they'd want to use you."

"You mean topless?! No way!"

She looked at me blankly, like she didn't understand. "Why not? You've got nothing to lose."

"I don't need guys drooling over my naked pictures, thanks."

"Do you think they'd drool?"

"Well uh..." Put that way it sounded pretty arrogant.

"I mean, you've got a great body. I'm sure any guy would like to look, but I don't see what you have to be embarrassed about. If I had a body like yours I'd like people to see it."

"Well, I'm not that free and open, I guess," I said.

"Do you have a bikini? I could take a picture of you in a bikini and send it in."

"Oh I don't -."

"You could get a couple of hundred dollars just for posing for a few pictures," she said. "For like, twenty minutes work."

I stared at her in surprise. That sounded pretty easy!

"You wouldn't even have to leave the house," she said with a grin.

Put that way it was hard to turn her down, but it still felt a bit weird. I put on my black bikini, and she had me stand straight and took pictures of me from all sides. She was pretty casual about it, and I felt more at ease. I mean, it was just a bikini, right?

We chatted a bit more and then I went to bed, thinking she was a quiet spoken girl but a bit odd - a bit off somehow, in a way I couldn't quite describe.

One of the things my room lacked was lights. I had brought a table lamp for the bed, but the next day I went out and bought a floor lamp as well as a light for the dresser, and a second light for the other bedside table. I didn't really need them in the morning, though, since the sun streamed through the bay windows.

Which was why it was bright enough that as I knelt beside the bed to plug in the lamp there I saw the strap. It was leather, and hanging from the top left bedpost. It was attached to the bed by a buckle which could be tightened or loosened to lengthen or shorten it, and the end was curled sharply, with a Velcro closure.

I kind of stared at it, perplexed, at first. You know, WTF was this? I started to have an idea, though, and moved around to the other side of the bed, where I find an identical one. My eyes widened and I remembered what Shane had said about the previous occupant being a 'player'.

"Oh ick," I said, face screwing up.

I looked at the foot of the bed, where the two posts were laid against a low padded bench which also served for storage, and sure enough, there were two more. Okay, so it was a little kinky, but not exactly shocking. I removed them and tossed them on the dresser, glad again that I'd had the mattress removed and wondering how I'd missed seeing them the other day.

Shane was asleep and Andrea was at work, which was fine with me. I did a little more setup in my room, and then, curious, I found the stairs to the attic. They were narrow and dark, and the attic was kind of shadowy and hot, but it was also largely empty.

The big punching bag hung from a hook which dangled from what almost looked like a sort of coat rack, except it was of wood, not metal. There were two high three by three poles driven into the floor, with a third crossing between them about seven feet high, and a fourth a foot below that. There was still another horizontal pole crossing between them about a foot off the floor. I punched the bag experimentally, then gave it a little kick. You could work out some frustration on this thing, I thought, bemused.

But Andrea was right about the heat. It wasn't even a particularly hot day outside and the attic was hot and stuffy. I went back downstairs and settled into the window seat in my room to read my Hotel Management text.

I left for work before she came home and before Shane woke up. Things were working out very well there so far.

A few days later I found a note on my bed from Andrea saying that one of the agencies she worked for had accepted me as a model and she would have a few bathing suits for me to wear on the weekend! Bemused, I was half sorry I'd kind of agreed to have the pictures taken, and half intrigued and flattered.

We did the pictures Saturday morning, which was fortunate because Shane was still asleep, but she wanted them done in the attic.

"It's pretty hot up there," I said doubtfully.

"I know. I want you looking hot and also looking hot, if you know what I mean. A little sweat will add to the realism."

Who was I to argue?

We went upstairs and she hung a blue sheet across from pegs she had already placed on the ceiling. I gathered she'd done pictures of there before. She handed me a plastic bag with several bathing suits in it and I looked around and said "Uh..."

She grinned. "I've already seen you naked, well, at least I've seen your boobs and butt. You can turn your back to me if you don't want me to see anything else."

"Uhm, I suppose," I said, though it still felt a bit odd to strip naked in front of someone.

"I can get naked too if you're feeling shy," she said in a teasing voice.

She was only wearing shorts and a tank top, and now peeled the tank top up and off to reveal small firm breasts.

"I'm not shy," I said, irked.

Though I kind of was. Still, I peeled my own t-shirt off and then shoved my shorts down and off. I removed my bra, and then did kind of turn my back to slide my thong off, feeling silly as I did. I pulled on the shimmering metallic blue bathing suit bottom first - discovering it was a thong, then the very small cups.

"I wouldn't wear something this small in public," I said uncertainly.

"Lots of girls would, though."

"Where is this going to appear?"

"Probably on-line bathing suit stores. See, I'll pose you against the blue backdrop, then on the computer it will look like there's sky and surf behind you. It's really easy. I just paste you into the shoreline pic."

She had me stand with my back to the blue cloth, and then hands on my hips. She roughed up my hair a bit to make it look more wind-blown, then stood back.

"I'm starting to sweat," I said.

"Perfect. It's supposed to be hot in wherever the fuck you are."

I snorted in amusement and she took several pictures from different angles. The only one which made me blush a bit was when she had me turn my back to her so she could take a picture of my butt on the thong.

"I thought they used high priced models for this stuff and flew them to the Bahamas and stuff."

"Are you kidding? Maybe Sports Illustrated does that, but most of these suits are made in China and Malaysia and they're not expensive. The online stores that sell them don't make a ton, and they can't afford to pay to have high priced models flown around. Besides, why bother when there's lots of pretty girls and you can easily paste in the backdrop."

The next suit was corral, with these cute rings on the front sides leading to strings which went over my hips. It too was a thong, but I was getting more easy about this, especially since Andrea hadn't bothered to put her top back on and was so casual as she moved around with her breasts bare.

The next suit wasn't a swimsuit but lingerie. I looked at her in surprise and she shrugged.

"It's basically the same thing. I mean, the black thong is a bit smaller than the ones you're wearing but the cups are actually a bit bigger."

Which wasn't untrue, so I agreed, and she took a few more pictures.

The last thing was just a thong.

"I'm not posing topless," I said firmly.

"Sure you are. I just won't take a picture of your breasts."