His Body of Work

Mase knocked on the warehouse door that held a graffited sign saying, " Body Works." She had walked past the university campus out into an industrial area. The place was eerily quiet as her interview was scheduled after her classes had ended, so the surrounding business had closed. She had worn a simple outfit of a black dance dress with a flowing skirt, a sweetheart neckline, and slim straps over her shoulders. It was light and easy to move in but highlighted her feminine curves. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a pristine bun, which exposed her elegant neck. The reply to her inquiry had stipulated she wore heels, and so she slipped out of her trainers and into a simple black pair of elegant heels as she waited to be let in. Moments after Mase's foot had settled into her shoe, she heard a beep and the electrical buzz of a lock release. The dull silver corrugated metal of the industrial door began to rise slowly. A shuddering breath left Mase's lips as the hairs rose on the back of her neck. This wasn't where she'd expected to interview for the job she'd found at the back of the campus newspaper. ' ----------------- Model Wanted A local upcoming artist seeks a female model for a new commission. Any prospective applicants MUST: - have no tattoos or obvious scars anywhere on their body - have good muscle tone and posture - be extremely flexible - have confidence to stand nude in front of an audience - the ability to hold poses for long periods of time without moving. £1,200 per day for successful applicants. ----------------- She had waited a day before making contact. Initially, all she had seen was the £1,200 per day salary. She was sure she could do the job, but as time went on, doubt crept in. This could be an elaborate setup, an excuse for some creep to lure her in. Mase resolved to first call the campus paper and check if anyone knew who posted the advert. After a short phone call, she'd been assured by a bored sounding intern that they vet their adverts, and he thought that the artist was actually one of the college professors. Feeling reassured, she emailed the address given immediately with head shots and a full body image she had taken hours to set up. Three days went by before a response came. It was blunt and to the point, giving her instructions on where to go, how to dress, and the time and date. There was no further explanation, but she could only assume the professor did life drawings. Once the door had risen enough for her to pass through, she gave herself a stern reminder of her upcoming tuition payment and forged forward. The warehouse seemed to swallow her whole as she was engulfed by darkness. She paused momentarily as her eyes adjusted. Just as she began to make out shapes ahead, a light flickered on. In front of Mase was a small circular podium half a foot from the ground. A black silk sheet surrounded three quarters of it, and the professional lights buzzed a blinding white. Her body gave a small convulsion as pangs of fear tore through her. Before she could even take a step, a disembodied voice filled the space. "Ms Swan, please strip down to your panties and step on the podium. You will find a privacy screen and robe on the left of the podium. " "Um, OK!" She shouted back. "Hi, by the way! Thanks for the opportunity!" Not only was she shouting into empty space, but she also realised she had no idea who had spoken. Either way, they didn't seem inclined to respond. The voice had been deep and filled with gravel, seeming to echo and bounce around, making her disorientated. Heart racing, Mase looked around for the screen and scurried behind it. A red light glowed from behind the screen, allowing her to see a small table and stool. On top of the stool sat a soft white robe. Not allowing herself to hesitate further, Mase began to strip off her dress, feeling more than a little alarmed he wanted her nude already. Once in her just her nude thong, she looked down at herself and felt a flush of heated embarrassment. For a dancer, she wasn't particularly slim. Oh, her stomach was flat with muscle, but her hips were wide, and she carried a layer of softness that other girls in her class did not. Her breasts, in particular, were often problematic as they were full and round, meaning she often had to strap them down for her classes. Now they sat pert and heavy as the exposure and fear pebbled her dusty pink n*****s. With another fortifying breath, she stashed her clothes in her little black leather backpack and donned the robe. She left her heels on to walk across the dusty floor, and they clicked as she went announcing her presence. "Thank you, Ms Swan. Now, please situate yourself on the podium." The disembodied voice was back, the slight hum suggesting it was coming through a speaker system she could not see. Once she stepped up, he immediately spoke again. "Please remove your robe and choose a pose. My only condition is that you must have only one foot on the podium and you must not move until I say so." Mase removed the robe with shaking fingers. At that moment, she felt so many emotions. The weight of her tuition fees, the estrangement from her family, the fear of her surroundings, the loneliness, and determination to succeed all crashed down on her, fixing her to the small platform. Blood rushed in her ears, her vision went dark, and she dropped to the ground. The last thing Mase saw was blinding white lights flash on all around her.