Intimations of Mortality - 10

Being a series of random but loosely connected musings on my life, the world I have lived in and what the future - what's left of it - may hold.


I was beyond panic. Running away was now scarier than standing my ground. I knew. I was here to make their dreams come true, if only for another Saturday afternoon. And those dreams would quickly fade over the next few days, ready to be re-lit, re-coloured the next time.

I was a maker of dreams. I had a job for life. Or at least until the next eighteen-year-old sixteen-year-old came along.

I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. My new workplace. The room was cold but the temperature was, like the expectation, rising. Blinds had been dropped on the windows along one wall. A row of spots flooded the stage with a bland, white light. Reflecting off the chrome legs and white faux leather seat of a barstool standing in the middle.

It was painful to look up into the light, so I concentrated on the row of lenses. The row of eyes now openly staring at me, no pretence of technical adjustments or expert control.

The Chairman took his position behind the central camera, directly facing me. He glanced left and right, seemed to get the "Ready!" signal from his members. Checked his watch and made a note of the time.

I waited, wondering just what to do.

Sit on the stool, love! Facing me!

His words surprised me. Then released me from my indecision. I climbed up on to the stool, keeping a tight hold on the sheet. Trying to appear graceful in my movements. I stared towards his camera.

Big smile please!

I smiled my best cheeky-girl smile. Heard the shutters start to click. And the voices of the photographers.

This way, dearie!

Over here, love!

To me, now, beautiful!

I turned my smile back and forth, then again, turning my body from the waist. Slowly, across the arc of lenses. And above the clicking of the shutters, my master's voice.

Drop the sheet a little, love! One shoulder out!

Another circuit of the room. More clicking.

And the other shoulder!

I modestly adjusted the sheet, exposing my neck and both shoulders. Turning back and forth to the calls of the snappers. Forcing my smile through my growing nervousness.

Okay, love, now show your left breast!

Shortly followed by:

That's nice! Now both breasts!

I had the sheet bunched at my waist, my upper body fully exposed to the cameras. I felt the atmosphere in the room change. At once, I was more vulnerable and more powerful. And I felt the power winning.

I wasn't big. A B-cup, I would say, but pert, well-formed, with neat, prominent nipples. I pushed my chest out to emphasise them. Pulled my shoulders back. Raised my arms above my head.

I smiled and turned, more slowly. And the clicking shutters also slowed, as if the photographers were taking more time over each shot. Framing. Focusing. Savouring.

I let them have their fill. I fed their hungry dreams with my breasts.

Very nice, dear! Now, stand up!

I carefully got off the stool, gripping the sheet to ensure I did not prematurely uncover anything else. For a moment the shutters were silent.

Alright! Now lower the sheet just a little!

I moved the sheet down to the top of my hips, showing off my flat belly. The clicking recommenced.

Turn your back to us now! Look over your left shoulder!

I followed his instructions.

And to your right!

I smiled back over my right shoulder, at the cameras at that end of the line.

And… all the way down to the floor!