water. That was all the other girls ate as well. It was okay with me, I knew I needed to lose a bit of weight. The flat was owned by an agency the photographer was connected with. It didn’t cost anything till you started earning, then they took it all back.
The photographer brought this clothing designer around one day after a few weeks, said he was looking for new faces for a show. Me and a few other girls were herded into a van and taken to a freezing cold warehouse somewhere near Canning Town in the East End and we were asked to strip down to our knickers. I wasn’t so keen but the other girls did it straight away like they were used to it. I took off my bra and it hit me then that I didn’t fit in. The other girls hardly had a tit between them; I saw a row of tiny nipples poking out in the cold air, and then looked down at my melons. Pretty fine they were, no implants then but firm enough to fool a blind greengrocer. The designer was staring at them and said something to the photographer who looked over me, said something back and they both laughed. I felt pretty cheap.
But later, the designer called me into another room and asked me to try on some clothes. He came up behind me as I was getting myself into this tiny little frock. Horrible thing it was, all colours of the rainbow, like something Joseph’s slutty sister might have worn. God knows what he was thinking when he came up with that idea. Anyway, he ‘helped’ me into it, acting all businesslike of course, but his hands went everywhere. I didn’t know what was normal, so accepted it. But then I found his hand up my skirt.
‘Oy!’ I said, ‘No pot of gold up there, mate.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said in this toff voice. ‘I need to see what it looks like without the panty line,’ and then he whipped me keks off! I was too surprised to say anything.
He stood behind me again and felt my tits, making out that he was just positioning them for best effect. I figured something was wrong, but I still had this stupid idea I’d be a top model. Now let me say right now that he wasn’t bad looking. I don’t want to pretend he was some big, fat creep with a face like a bulldog. And if he’d just asked, then I might just have said yes. I’d been stuck in a grotty flat with a bunch of Polish tarts for three weeks at that point, and would have appreciated some attention from someone who spoke English. What I didn’t like was the liberties he thought he could take. Still that’s the business isn’t it? Models are just tarts without the cream at the end of the day.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said. Finally someone being nice to me. I felt a bit better after him about that, especially when he told me he’d probably have some work for me. He poured me a glass of wine and asked me to sit down.
‘Now you’re young,’ he said, ‘and you may not know how things work in this industry, but there are certain perks of the job for designers like me.’
I looked at him, standing in front of me. I was starting to guess what he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to serve it up on a plate, was I?
‘I mean for designers who are hetero. You know, straight?’ He sipped his wine and winked at me. ‘There aren’t many of us, and we get to choose from a large pool of pretty young girls.’ He reached out and stroked my chin. ‘You see, I could choose anyone for this job I have in mind, someone with a less feminine figure, for example, it would make things easier for the dressmakers.’ He shrugged, like he didn’t care, but I knew he was acting. ‘But on the other hand, maybe someone with your more, er, ample charms is what the fashion world is looking for. Do I take the risk? And get my reward? Or do I play it safe?’
I’d got it by then.
‘You’ll be expecting this reward from me, then?’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ he said, stroking my hair. He moved closer to me, took my hand and moved it to his fly. He wanted me to do the deed, to put the responsibility on me.
I made a decision then. That I’d do what I needed to do to make it. I didn’t want to piss about with the scrawny Poles for the next year. I took hold of his fly and pulled it down. His cock was already trying to burst out. He wasn’t wearing pants, he’d planned it all. I’d seen penises before of course, round my way the lads aren’t shy about whopping it out in the hope you’ll grab hold of it. But I was still a virgin. I’d never even had one of them in my mouth. It sort of made its own way out of his fly, rising up and pointing straight towards me, like it was saying hello. He moved even closer and I could smell him, a musky scent.
As I watched, a tiny drop of fluid appeared at the tip.
‘You look like you’ve been starving yourself,’ he said. ‘How about a bit of sausage?’
I rolled my eyes, opened my mouth and gingerly moved my head forward. He sighed as my lips made contact with his cock. I had no idea how you were supposed to do this sort of thing, but how hard could it be, I thought. You just take as much in as you can and try to chew without using your teeth. He seemed to like it anyway. He wasn’t really that big, but it felt enormous in my mouth. I remember thinking it tasted a bit salty, or not salty, but … well, most of you know what it tastes like. Thing was, I didn’t mind the taste. And I liked being able to make him react, you know? It was like I had some power in this exchange too. Though he was trying to dominate me, I wasn’t completely under his control. I pulled my head back, letting the slippery head come out and he tried to stick it back in, but I held him back, then slowly licked the end. Little feathery dabs with my tongue. This drove him wild and I liked that even more.
Eventually he couldn’t stand it any more. He stood back, took off his trousers and grabbed a condom from the nearby table. I watched him, nervous, but also ready for what was going to come.
Now I reckon I was quite lucky to get the guy I did. Plenty of girls have it much worse on their first time. Sure he was pushing me into something I hadn’t asked for, but he had given me a choice; it wasn’t like he was raping me or anything. I could have walked out anytime I liked. Also, I was lucky he used a condom, and lube. God alone knows the places his old feller had been. Further afield than Canning Town anyway.
He came back, knelt down before me and kissed me. He pushed me back a little and I had to lift my leg so as not to overbalance, then I felt his hand slip between my thighs. He was good this guy. I only hope he’d dry-cleaned the couch recently because I reckon it got a lot of use.
I remember the feeling as his hand touched my pussy lips. It felt wrong, sort of invasive, but at the same time it felt so good, it was what I wanted. I opened my legs a little more as he bore down on top of me and I gave up the fight and lay flat on the couch. I felt his lubedup fingers sliding across my labia and then one of them popped briefly inside me. I would have squealed but his tongue was down my throat. His breath smelt fresh and I felt my body relaxing as his mouth moved against mine and his fingers explored inside my vagina.
Then, almost before I knew it, he was on top of me sliding my tight skirt up my thighs and exposing my bare arse to the elements. He lifted my legs up and over, so my ankles were around my ears and he positioned himself over me, I could feel his big purple head throbbing and tickling my open fanny lips.
‘How old did you say you were?’ he asked softly, gazing into my eyes.
‘Sixteen,’ I replied quietly. He smiled and nodded. Then he thrust himself inside me. We both closed our eyes and groaned. He with pleasure, I with pain.
Jesus, it hurt. I’ve had some huge things jammed in there since which hurt more, but I was ready for those, I knew what I was getting. This took me completely by surprise and knocked the wind out of my sails for a bit.
I wish I could say it stopped hurting after a while, but it didn’t. He took some time to finish off and each thrust hurt, despite the lube. Could have been worse, I suppose, but could have been a hell of a lot better too.
Afterwards he gave me the details of the job. It was a shoot for a no-name lingerie catalogue. Not quite what I was expecting, but I was hopeful it would lead to better things, and better sex.
I got quite a bit of work from that designer, and he put me in touch with a different, more up-market agency he used who put me on their books. They also fixed me up with a better