Satisfaction Pt. 04: Ch. 14 to 19

Ingrid looked at the new models. She called Derek to alert him that it would be worthwhile coming over. She then introduced Sara and Shamina to the three ladies in the back room, with a list of the things they should do. This included a complete body shave, hair arrangement and full-body make-up. Sara hated it but complied with everything asked of her. Shamina was in her element and loved every moment of being pampered.

Ingrid took Sara and Shamina aside before they started. Ingrid was friendly, telling them to relax. What really caught their attention was the news they would be paid for the session, so they would be expected to act professionally. The rate was one thousand dollars each. Ingrid explained that the client would be able to sell some of the material.

She went on further to explain there would be opportunities during the shoot to earn bonuses. They would be advised during the course of the shoot to take certain actions that they were at complete liberty to refuse. There would be three or four of these, but if either of them refused a bonus call there would be no more. Shamina's delight was evident as she bounced up and down when told each bonus action was worth five hundred dollars between the two of them. Sara was suspicious and a little anxious.

Ingrid carefully walked them through a release form, explaining the details; with the last clause confirming the document had been explained to them, etc. Sara hesitated. Then she thought of the two thousand dollars, at least, and given a final nudge to sign by Shamina who said, rather petulantly, "Oh. Come on mom. Sign it!" Sara signed her name impulsively, pushing any contrarian, stubborn thoughts out of her mind. Shamina signed without a second thought. Martin and the dresser witnessed their signatures. They were handed copies of the contract.

The women dressed identically in the first outfits; dark blue two-piece, fine wool business suit comprising a pencil skirt and low buttoned lapelled coat, complemented by dark sheer stockings incorporating faux seams down the back of the leg, red high heeled shoes, and a fine silk white blouse, all set off by sapphire-colored bling.

Although Martin was the photographer Sara noticed he kept touching his earbud, as he seemed to be following instructions, presumably from Ingrid. Their first instruction directed them to walk catwalk style up and down. It took Sara a few passes before she was completely comfortable in the very high, for her, heels. Sara soon found her rhythm as the lens beckoned her. Shamina showed more energy and was coached to tone it down a bit. "Smooth, not bounce."

They did not notice Derek, in his black outfit, slip into the back of the studio.

After some passes arm in arm. Look up. Look down. Right. Left. They were placed back to back with wooden kitchen chairs in front of them. They were posed with one foot up on the chair. To achieve the gesture involved pushing the skirt right up their legs so their stocking tops and an inch of thigh were clearly visible. With thumb up and index finger pointing up at an angle they made their hands into mock revolvers, mimicking a Bond movie opening. They blew the smoke from the barrel of their fingers. First with their front leg up on the chair, and then with the leg furthest from the lens that showed the soft band of their inner thighs almost up to their panties.

Sara was instructed to sit on a chair facing the camera, legs crossed. Shamina was placed behind Sara with direction to put her arms around her, as if hugging her neck, placing her face in the nape of Sara's neck. Shamina was told to whisper in her mother's ear, while Sara continued to look at the lens.

Martin spoke up, "For your first bonus I would like you, Shamina, to nibble your mother's earlobe withdraw your left hand to rest it on your mother's shoulder and drop your right hand inside the jacket onto your mother's left nipple. Do you accept?"

Sara turned and looked at Shamina, whose eyes were bright with anticipation. Shamina whispered, "Five hundred dollars. Nothing is really showing." Sara knew she was beaten. There was no way she could deny her beautiful daughter's enthusiasm. In unison they said, "Agreed." After a bit of fidgeting to get comfortable they assumed the position.

Shamina again whispered, "Easiest five hundred ever," before starting to nibble her mother's soft fleshy lobe. What Sara had not anticipated was the sudden surge of arousal she received. The scent of Shamina, the erotic feel of lips on her ear and mostly the aggressive liberty that Shamina was taking with her nipple through the blouse and thin bra material were all having an effect. She was not being passive. The pinching and twisting may have been Shamina having some fun, but the results were a series of signals to Sara's vagina that were difficult to ignore. Sara wanted to grind her crossed thighs together but resisted the urge somehow.

Both Ingrid and Martin saw the impact on Sara. They let it run for several minutes, with urges of, "Keep it going. We've got to adjust the lighting." Derek also saw the impact and smiled to himself. He knew a winner when he saw it.

There broke to change clothes. The second outfits were, again identical, pale yellow, with a subtle pinstripe, summer dresses, with large white lapels. The dresses buttoned down the front with bold pale blue buttons arranged in a double-breasted style. It was no accident that the top buttons coincided with the nipples. The hems sat three inches about the knees. Although the materials were expensive the overall effect was retro and a little cheap. Lemon stockings replaced their dark ones. They were told to omit wearing bras. They kept their panties on. Sara would have liked to have replaced or even dispensed with her now damp ones. They had flat-soled shoes this time, to give them both a much younger look.

They were introduced to Derek wearing their new outfits. They were told he was the client. It was immediately understood he was bankrolling the shoot. Shamina started flirting with Derek. They were told that his first impressions were very favorable, and if they kept up the good work who knew where they may go together.

The second shoot started and followed a range of scenarios including dancing and twirling around that allowed the full skirts to show off their shapely legs. Eventually they arrived at the second bonus offering. This time Sara was to stand to one side of Shamina, facing her shoulder, and reach across her to slowly unbutton the dress, help her slip it off her shoulders as elegantly as possible, and then reach down and take Shamina's nearest nipple in her lips after first teasing it with her tongue.

Sara was ready to refuse flat out to expose her daughter this way. Shamina immediately turned to stand face to face, took her mother's shoulders in her hands shook her, and told her in no uncertain terms that if she didn't do it she would take the dress off herself and invite Derek to do the licking and sucking. "Get with the plot, Mother! Now." Sara submitted, as she always did to her daughter's demands. Ingrid and Derek both noted Sara's response to Shamina's behavior. The requested scenario unfolded slowly. Sara returned to her exhibitionist mode as she thought of the lens catching every drop of saliva and suck of her cheeks.

Martin was concentrating on the technical aspects of the camera work. Ingrid panned and zoomed the video cameras on the puffy and hard nipples Shamina was offering to her mother with Derek looking over her shoulder. What was familiar to Martin shocked and surprised Ingrid and Derek - the length of Sara's tongue. They both drew nearer the screens in front of them to be sure they had seen correctly. "That must be close to four inches long. Oh my God!" They were also in awe at the control and flicking motions Sara seemed to achieve. "Reel her in, Ingrid. We can use that tongue to make a fortune."

In the meantime, almost lost to the select audience, were the fact that the Shamina's arousal has risen to new heights within the environment of an audience and the fact that her mother was the author of her pleasure. Her knees gave out on her as she had a massive explosive orgasm from the nipple stimulation. Sara jolted out of her reverie as Shamina fell from her oral grasp. The adrenaline kicked in her motherly function as she fought to hold her only daughter safe.

After a longer rest with everyone taking refreshments together, they discussed the next shoot, lingerie. Sara had now consumed two quick glasses of wine and her objectivity was dulled. She had a sense that after what had gone before was just a prelude to what was about to happen. As she watched Shamina continue to flirt with both Martin and Derek simultaneously she resigned herself to following Shamina along whatever path she chose to go and damn the consequences.

The lingerie shoot went well. Each of the three outfits provided were, as expected, briefer and more transparent than the last. As they started the last set, Derek came forward and asked the women if he could join the shoot. They could hardly say "no." Derek stripped off his black polo necked top to reveal a well-chiseled torso, with clearly defined and developed musculature. Shamina just said, "Nice bod, Derek." Sara thought the same and said nothing, notwithstanding her body reacted with a pang of arousal.

They all gathered around the chaise longue and shuffled around with Derek ending up sitting and leaning back on Sara with his head on her breast and his waist between her legs. Her hands stroked his upper chest. Shamina sat on the floor with one elbow on the seat and her other hand on Derek's thigh.

"Ladies. You have shown you have the talent to be models. Now how would you like to earn a further thousand each? You are both dressed in skimpy underwear, I have a bare chest and somewhat overdressed compared to you. First, I would like to you to undress me. You would have more clothes on than me, so even things up you take your clothes off. That's five hundred to each of you. Then you will see I am horny as an alley cat. What are you prepared to do to earn that extra five hundred?" Derek stood up and walked a few paces away.

For the most part, the situation had developed as Sara feared and also hoped for at another level. Shamina was on Derek like a shot and had his trousers off in an instant revealing an impressive erection and shaved pubes. Sara thought, "She's done that before."

Then the lights went out. Sara found herself blind, as did all the others, but moreover she registered the absolute silence of the room. Everyone held his or her breath. The music silenced. The white sound of the fans disappeared, as did the hum of the computer and the fridge in the corner. Sara pondered the thought in that moment, "Coincidence or a message?" All eroticism and arousal evaporated.

Derek broke that momentary oasis of quiet. "What the fuck? What's going on? Ingrid, what's happening? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he shouted.

The small light from Ingrid's cell phone shone out. Ever practical, she strode over to the blacked-out windows and pulled the blind aside. "The whole area's out," she announced.

"OK. Fuck. Call it a day." Derek had spoken. Even if the lights came on the mood was gone, as had his erection.

Ingrid then took charge. Cell phones were used as flashlights. Sara and Shamina found their clothes and dressed. As they reached the door to leave, a fully dressed Derek told them they would receive their payment within three days and told them there would be other opportunities. "Have a good night. That was good."

Sara hardly saw Shamina on Saturday. Shamina popped her head into her mother's bedroom around ten to tell her she was leaving and, "Yes. I had some breakfast. I have my cell phone with me." The latter statement was completely redundant. She always had her cell phone with her.

Sara did little the whole day except to cry at times and at other times smile quietly as she dozed in bed. She only changed from her PJs after a late shower and snack before returning to bed. Sara heard Shamina arrive home and go straight to her room just after eleven.

Sara was awoken at eight-thirty the next morning by a courier calling up from the lobby. She was handed a package and signed the receipt. Sara was puzzled then amazed when she opened it. The package contained thirty-five slim bound packs worth one hundred dollars each in new five-dollar notes. She had never seen so much cash in her life. She cleared the dining room table and spread the packs in five precisely aligned rows of seven. She had never seen so much cash in her life.

Sara knocked on Shamina's door.

"I'm awake. What was that?"

"Come out. I'll show you." Shamina was led to the dining area. Her eyes bulged at the sight of the money.

"We have to talk."

"Yes, Mom. I think we do."

Chapter 18

Wendy

It took a good three days for Glen to recover from his meeting with Bee and Ally.

After a slow start, the attendance at youth activities group was beginning to pick up. Wendy appeared out on the Rugby field where the Ultimate Frisbee was being held. The numbers were up to fifteen and Glen felt the kids were having fun. There was considerable hope they would continue on into the fall and the indoor soccer.

Apart from the occasional face time at the field, Glen's contact with Wendy had been solely related to the book club stories. He spoke to her briefly about meeting with Bee and her daughter but gave no clue as to the events that had taken place.

Wendy just said, "Now you know which is my effort. Don't think too badly of me. We must get together to tell me what you thought of it."

"I'd like that. When are you free?"

"I was going down with my hubby to an ecclesiastical conference in Atlanta for two weeks. But I have an important meeting with a donor who may well give the church money to cover the cost of a new roof we need. I'm having to pass on the trip, unfortunately."

"Couldn't you go down for a part of the time?"

Wendy frowned. "You're right. I haven't thought about that. Thanks for the idea."

"I'll do my homework and be ready to chat with you about your story. Give me a call when you get back. I'm free a lot these days. Bye."

"Bye."

Later that evening Glen sat down to read Wendy's offering.

*******

Two days later Glen realized he had not yet reread Wendy's piece and he's better refresh his memory before she returned.

Glen was puzzled by this piece by Wendy. First off, he could see no way he'd have guessed her as the author. It seemed sleezy to him. Maybe that was her intention. Then it made no sense to him she used a male point of view. He suspected her comments about prostate cancer were correct. Did her husband have it? A friend? He could make some sense about how a woman needs careful love and physical attention. Was that her crying out? More questions than answers.

As he fell asleep his mind drifted over the mad sexual roller coaster the stories in the little, mangy cardboard box had brought to him. He was certain that Wendy would never complete the full circle, and he was not sure he even wanted for that to happen.

It was just before he was going to bed near midnight the following evening when he received a telephone call. He almost let the call go to voicemail. He had no idea who would be calling at that time of night.

He answered, "Glen Garrison."

"Oh, thank God. Wendy here. Sorry to call you this late."

"I'm always happy to hear from you." Glen was concerned that there had been an accident or illness.

"Can I ask an enormous favor of you?" Wendy sounded agitated.

"Of course. Are you OK?"

"No. But I'll manage - manage even better if you can help."

"OK. But what do you need?"

"Can you pick me up at the airport? Now."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. I'm in the domestic arrivals and I need to get back into town. I'm out of cash. For some stupid reason there are no taxis around."

Glen had encountered the same problem in the past. The airport was quite small, and the last flight usually arrived at eleven.

"What's happened?"

"I'll tell you when I see you. Please. Pretty please."

"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. The traffic should be very light at this time of night. Wait outside at domestic arrivals, down at the south end in say ten to twelve minutes. I'll pick you up at the curb. Saves going into the parking. See you soon."

"You're an angel. See you."

Glen swept up his wallet and keys, slipped on some shoes and rushed out to the garage. As he guessed, he was able to speed out to the airport. Wendy was waiting for him at the kerb. Glen opened the trunk and collected her case.

After they were in the car, Wendy leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

Glen stole a glance at Wendy and saw evidence that she had been crying with her eyes somewhat red, but also, he could see her chin set with determination. "I'll have you home in no time."

Wendy did not respond for a full minute as they drove out over the cloverleaf intersection into town.

"Glen. This will sound strange. Can I come back to your place for a drink first? I need it and I'll tell you what has happened. It would be a kindness for me."

Glen was uncertain and puzzled but agreed. He frowned to himself. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely certain."

"My place it is."

When they arrived at Glen's home, out of reflex rather than planning Glen opened the garage door using the automatic opener and drove into double garage. He closed the outside door and entered the house through the access doorway at the rear of the garage.

"What would you like to drink? I can rustle up an omelette if you'd like something to eat."

"Just a drink. Do you have a brandy?"

"No brandy, but I can manage a good malt whisky." Glen thought of Ally.

"That'll do just fine. I need something strong."

Glen had to dig around for the bottle of whisky and poured Wendy a stiff one. Wendy drank it in almost one gulp. She shuddered as she sat down on the sofa.

"Another, please?" She held out her glass and Glen poured her some more, but rather less the second time.

"Wendy. What's this all about? I gather you took my advice and went down to the conference down in Atlanta."

Wendy kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up beside her.

"John went down to the conference and retreat in Atlanta. I was supposed to go with him. At fairly short notice one of our major benefactors wanted to talk about a significant donation to cover the total re-tiling of the roof. I think I mentioned this to you. This benefactor was in a hurry for some unknown reason and would not be delayed. I was delegated to meet with him and do the negotiations. I had a sense this was all orchestrated. I know he fancied me, and when I mentioned it to John all he would say was that could work in the church's favor, maybe we could get a larger donation. I hung around for the Friday meeting. That gentleman then had the audacity to break his leg in a waterskiing accident, which I am sure was not arranged." Wendy gave a wry smile. "The meeting was called off at the last moment."

Wendy paused and downed the refill of whisky. "I decided to catch a plane down to Atlanta to meet up with John. All went well, but I could only get on the later flight that arrived about seven in the evening. I was fortunate that I had made the reservation for the room. With my driving license I could prove I really was the wife of the minister in 1207, and the man at reception gave me a passkey."

Wendy pushed her empty glass towards Glen. He asked, "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes."

Glen gave Wendy a second refill. "Last one. Make it last."

"I don't know how you feel about hotels, but I always have found them to bring out the sexiness in me. All those rooms with beds and all the fucking going on. Anyway, on the way up, alone in the elevator, I removed my outside coat and undid the top three buttons on my blouse. I planned to surprise John in the nicest kind of way. I opened the door as quietly as I could and crept past the bathroom on my left. As I come around the corner in full sight of the bed, I stopped dead."