Sarah's Education

by Madeline Moore

  ‘He says he’s sorry that we don’t have our own private room but there’s a cot for us in the storage room behind his office and it can be locked from inside. Anything we need, he says, just ask. All he requires is that there should be at least one of us on the stand at all times, with the car, posing prettily and drawing lots of attention from the visitors and the journalists. We start at ten and it’s nine-thirty already, so would we please go and get changed pronto.’

  The storage room wasn’t as small as Sarah had feared. Apart from cartons of brochures, all it held was the cot, a dressing table with a mirror, a small fridge and a table with an elaborate coffee machine that was already burbling, some good china and assorted snacks.

  ‘Espresso and cappuccino,’ Nancy said. ‘My favourites.’

  Nancy matter-of-factly stripped down to her panties and sat at the dressing table. Sarah undressed more slowly. As she stripped, she surreptitiously checked out the girl she thought of as her rival. Nancy was less rounded than Sarah, with wide-apart cupcake breasts that actually tilted upwards, like her tiny nose. The cherries on those cupcakes were very pale, too pale, in Sarah’s opinion.

  The kits they’d been given included magenta wraps, plus some make-up: magenta eye gloss and lipstick. Nancy smeared some onto her nipples, which certainly needed colour, but what for? No one was going to see them. Perhaps tinting her nipples gave the girl confidence.

  Their bikinis were even more daring than Sarah had imagined. The bottom halves were tiny and diamond-shaped, with tapes that passed between their thighs and up through the creases of their bums and three more tapes from each side that stretched up to the tapes that circled their hips.

  Thank goodness she’d taken Craig’s advice and been waxed bald. It’d been a painful process, but justified. She’d have hated to have little curls poking out.

  The bras were similar to the bottoms: pairs of diamonds that barely covered their nipples, held in place by tapes that ran around their backs and up to form halters.

  And they were to appear in public dressed like that! Thank goodness her folks lived far away.

  Sarah returned to the dressing table to apply more make-up – enough, she hoped, to make her unrecognisable. Much as she hated to disturb the hairdo that Carlo had lavished time on, she took a brush and gave herself bangs and flip-ups. The look was a bit old-fashioned, but so were the go-go boots. Maybe they’d play some disco?

  Nancy, ready first, left the room with a steaming mug of espresso and a biscotti on a little plate. When Sarah followed, Aldo Fulvio had the coffee and the crispy biscuit on his desk. Nancy was already draped across the Magenta’s hood. The little suck-up!

  The platform was made to revolve and was elevated by about a foot. The car was long, sleek and sexy. Parked, it looked like it was speeding.

  Aldo motioned to Sarah to join Nancy. He tapped his watch. It was a full minute after ten. A stream of visitors was pouring in through the doors but hadn’t reached the Albina stand yet. As Sarah stepped up, a little uncertain in four-inch heels, the stand began to turn. She stumbled. Nancy giggled. Signor Fulvio scowled.

  As quickly as she could, being careful not to scratch it with her boots, Sarah hitched up onto the car’s trunk to sit leaning back on straight arms, shoulders slightly turned in. She’d practised her poses in front of a mirror. Apart from kneeling on all fours, that was the one that showed her breasts off best.

  Let Nancy’s puny cupcakes compete with these plump puppies!

  The crowd reached their stand, photographers first. Cameras flashed. Perhaps it was Sarah’s imagination, but after the first few revolutions, it seemed like there were more pictures being taken of the trunk, with Sarah, than of the hood, with Nancy.

  Sarah rolled onto her tummy and lifted herself up on her arms again to deepen her cleavage. The flashes began to strobe, with definitely more pics being taken of her than of Nancy. Sarah knelt up and into her best pose, on her hands and knees, back deeply hollowed. From the directions the flashes came, it seemed as many photographers were focusing on her bottom as on her chest. Well, in that minute bikini, her bum was as good as bare.

  Someone touched her shoulder. Sarah blinked the glare away. It was Signor Fulvio. He was signalling for her to go to the hood to replace Nancy. That made sense. He’d want more shots of the car’s hood than its trunk to appear in the magazines, and she was the model who was attracting the lenses.

  As the girls passed each other, Nancy swung a hip-check at Sarah. Sarah was ready for it and simply swayed out of range.

  On the hood, and encouraged by shouts from the bystanders, Sarah moved from sexy pose to sexier pose, almost hoping for a ‘wardrobe malfunction’. The applause, mainly from men but with the occasional whoop or ‘You go, girl,’ from a woman, was intoxicating. So this was what motivated Daphne and James to pay for an audience.

  Sarah smiled and licked her lips seductively. She wriggled her bottom and swayed her breasts. The more her audience reacted, the sexier she felt. Hell, a girl could get off on this!

  She lay on her back, legs spread wide to either side, and let herself slither into a perilous backbend over the car’s snarling grille, hooking her fingers through it to hold herself in position. A photographer knelt up on the edge of the moving platform to snap half a dozen close-up shots before a behemoth in a Magenta Security T-shirt tapped his shoulder and invited him to dismount, ‘For his own safety’s sake.’

  There was a Brazilian car on show on the other side of the aisle. It had three girls, in even briefer bikinis than Sarah’s, but she was the one who was getting the most attention.

  Nancy took the first lunch break. When it was Sarah’s turn, she found there was prosciutto and Provolone in soft buns and individual salads waiting. As she ate, she browsed the Magenta’s brochure. When she was done eating, though she was entitled to more time, she went back to work. Being ogled was fun.

  There was another man at the sales desk with Signor Fulvio – a younger and better-looking one. The newcomer had a stubble-shadowed lantern jaw, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He introduced himself in pretty good English as Luigi Volpone, sales manager, and insisted on giving Sarah a hand up onto the revolving platform.

  Nancy had taken up residence on the hood, so Sarah perched on the trunk and blew kisses at every man who passed by.

  After a while, Nancy came back to where Sarah was. ‘Signor Fulvio wants us to demonstrate how roomy the trunk is,’ she said. ‘You’re to lie down in it.’

  ‘OK.’

  Nancy lifted the lid. Sarah climbed in and posed as best she could.

  ‘How’s this?’ she asked, just before Nancy lowered the lid. That didn’t seem right. How was anyone to see her? How were the photographers to snap her? Sarah rapped up on the underside of the lid before she remembered that the car boasted of being soundproof.

  She shivered as the first intimations of claustrophobia crept up on her. Silly! She’d read the brochure. The inside release handle had been pictured just about … She fumbled. There! Sarah tugged the lever. The mechanism gave a comforting click. She pushed up. The lid moved, but just a fraction of an inch. Something was holding it down.

  Sarah wriggled and squirmed, certainly not panicking, until she managed to get her knees beneath her and her back pressed up against the padding that lined the hard metal. She took a deep breath, and heaved.

  The lid flew up. There was a squeal of fear. Sarah stood up and looked down. Nancy was sprawled on the ground beside the stand and suddenly the girl was the centre of attraction. Photographers were running to her, cameras flashing.

  And no wonder. Her precipitous descent had parted the delicate tapes that held her bra in place. She was topless.

  Nancy started to scowl but it seemed that her being the cameramen’s focus dissolved her anger. She stood with a flourish and posed for the photographers, not even trying to cover her silly little tits up. Signor Fulvio rushed up with one of their wraps and draped it round her before he led Nancy away through the
office and to the storage room, screaming at her in rapid-fire Italian.

  Luigi Volpone stepped up onto the platform and gave Sarah a hand climbing out of the trunk. ‘She’s not so nice to you,’ he told Sarah. ‘Perhaps Signor Fulvio will send her away, I think.’

  ‘I hope not. I’m sure she only meant it as a little joke.’

  ‘Not so little. Are you all right? You need to take a break?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. We mustn’t leave the Magenta without its cheesecake.’

  ‘Cheesecake? Please?’

  ‘Girl. Pin-up girl,’ Sarah explained.

  ‘I see.’ He grinned. ‘Ragazza copertina, si? And you are the most tasty “cheesecake” in the panetterria, no?’

  Sarah didn’t know what a ‘panetterria’ was, but he was obviously paying her a compliment, so she smiled and said, ‘Thank you, Signor Volpone.’

  ‘Luigi, please.’

  ‘Luigi.’

  ‘I must get back to work.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Luigi paused before stepping off the platform. ‘A girl like Nancy, she deserve a – how you say?’ He made a bum-swatting motion.

  ‘A spanking.’

  ‘Yes, a good forte spanking.’

  Why was it always Nancy that men thought about spanking? Sarah had a rounder bum, which ought to have been more tempting, right? She returned to her poses feeling flushed. It had to be because she’d been trapped in the trunk for a while.

  Although there was no one to relieve her, after half an hour, Sarah felt the need for a trip to the ladies’ room. She asked Luigi’s permission, promised to hurry, and went to fetch her wrap from the storage room. When she tried the door, it was locked.

  Signor Fulvio’s voice, kind of strangled, called out, ‘Tra un minuto!’ A few seconds later, he sighed and grunted. There were fumbling sounds and the door opened. Signor Fulvio emerged, more florid than before. He pushed past Sarah, avoiding her eyes.

  Sarah went in and found Nancy repairing her lipstick. The scent of sex was in the air.

  ‘I take it that you aren’t being fired,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Me and Aldo – we have an understanding.’ Nancy grinned. ‘We’ve come to an oral agreement.’

  Sarah took her robe without commenting but she couldn’t help thinking about the incredible power that the promise, or better, the delivery, of a blow job had over men.

  The next day of the exhibition was quieter. There were fewer photographers but more serious business people, keeping Aldo and Luigi busy at their desks. Nancy shirked her duties, leaving the bulk of the work to Sarah. When Aldo took his lunch break in the storage room, Nancy accompanied him.

  Luigi looked at Sarah and shrugged. He seemed so nice but it was his boss who was getting all the action. That didn’t seem fair. She went out of her way to flirt with the handsome Italian, who, whenever he wasn’t with a client, went out of his way to help her on and off the revolving stand.

  It didn’t hurt to blow him a kiss from time to time, did it?

  Sunday, the third day, was disastrous for Sarah. She’d been sure that no one she knew was going to pay $150 to get in but she’d underestimated the power of infatuation. She was demonstrating her ‘dangling backwards over the grille’ pose when a familiar but upside-down face swung into view.

  David said, ‘Sarah!’

  Shocked, she lost her grip and slithered down onto her back on the platform.

  ‘How could you!’ he demanded.

  Sarah scrambled to her feet. ‘How could I? I’m just modelling.’

  ‘In that?’

  ‘There are girls here wearing less.’ She motioned to the Brazilian stand.

  ‘They aren’t my girl.’

  ‘You can’t –’ she began, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged.

  Luigi appeared at David’s side. ‘Young man, I think you should go away and leave the young lady very much all alone.’

  David pulled a fist back but dropped it to his side as the Magenta Security behemoth materialised behind Luigi. Scowling, David backed away.

  Sarah felt sick.

  Luigi asked her, ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘He thinks he is.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Take a break. I’ll get Nancy to take over for you.’

  ‘I think she’s busy.’

  ‘She and Aldo have been in the back room for half of an hour now. They’ll be finished. Aldo, he doesn’t last so long.’

  Sarah and Luigi exchanged knowing looks. Angry at David’s presumption of ownership, Sarah said, ‘When do you get your next break, Luigi?’

  He smiled. ‘For me, for a lady like you, Sarah, the half-hour in a storage room does not seem enough time or the right place for un appuntamento tra amanti.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  Luigi’s brow wrinkled in thought. ‘You like our Magenta?’

  ‘It’s magnificent.’

  ‘Sexy, no?’

  ‘Sexy, si.’

  ‘We have two here, did you know?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘One to show, another in case of accidents.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘The other one is in the storage, here at the exhibition. Would you like to see it?’

  ‘Very much. When?’

  ‘After we close, eleven tonight? Not too late for you?’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  At her next chance, Sarah used her Classique cellphone and told Craig that she wouldn’t be outside to be picked up at ten-thirty, as usual. ‘It’s a matter of client relations,’ she explained.

  Craig laughed. ‘Any idea when you’ll be done taking care of “client relations”?’

  ‘About one in the morning?’

  ‘I’ll be waiting outside. That’s too late for a girl to be out alone without a car. Don’t worry if you’re a little tardy. I’ll bring a book.’

  9

  THE SHOW CLOSED at ten but there were always lingerers. Nancy and Aldo disappeared into the storage room so Sarah stayed on duty for the benefit of the last few stragglers, even though she wasn’t on the clock. Her clothes were in that back room so she didn’t have much choice. As Luigi had said, Aldo couldn’t last long. He and Nancy were on their way out by ten-thirty. Sarah collected her things and headed for the ladies’ room to freshen up and change into a short jean skirt and a cropped top. She didn’t bother with underwear. What’d be the point?

  It was kind of eerie, heading back to the Magenta stand with no one around but cleaners. It occurred to her that she was about to go all the way just for the fun of it, no cash involved, for the very first time. She’d be under no obligation to make it good for the man while ignoring her own needs. And this was a man who’d be flying far away in a matter of days. She’d likely never see him again. That was liberating. She could be completely selfish, make demands even.

  She could try her techniques out and it wouldn’t matter a damn if she screwed up.

  It also occurred to her that no one had seen her newly bald little pussy, not yet. Luigi would be the first. How would he react?

  Luigi had changed as well, into tight blue jeans and a tighter magenta T-shirt. Both suited him. He had the body to carry them off; a body that she was eager to get to know.

  They strolled across the vast echoing open space, not touching, just casually chatting, for the benefit of the cleaners. Luigi led her to enormous lift-up doors with a normal door beside them. Inside, it was very utilitarian and only lit by exit signs. The spare Magenta was at the far end of a row of shiny new cars.

  Sarah said, ‘I’d like its headlights on, please.’

  He shrugged, opened the driver’s door and reached in. Covers lifted off the headlights like slowly opening eyes. They glowed into life, on dim. Sarah dropped her skirt to the floor. She took a wide-legged stance in front of the car’s grinning grille, between the headlights, and lay back across the sloping hood.

  ‘What do you think?’ She poin
ted down at her hairless mound.

  Luigi knelt in front of her as if in awe. ‘Che bella fighetta! Bellisimo!’

  Sarah didn’t need to know Italian to understand that he approved. There was a word in Italian that she’d picked up from movies. She told him, ‘Mangiare.’

  ‘Si, si!’ His hands spread on the hood to each side of her hips. Luigi leant forwards, tongue extended and flat, to lap Sarah’s smooth skin from halfway up the inside of her left thigh to the crease of her groin – and back halfway down her right thigh.

  So, he was going to make her wait for it, was he? That suited Sarah just fine. She stretched her arms up above her head. The movement raised the hem of her abbreviated top up to her nipples. Luigi’s eyes followed and widened. His head lifted and moved from side to side, dragging the point of his tongue along the creases at the tops of Sarah’s thighs.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, surrendering to the tantalising sensations. How would it be if, instead of being free to move at will, she were chained – no, not chained, that’d be uncomfortable – maybe secured by soft leather straps, spreadeagled on the hood of this gorgeous car? She’d have to endure his tongue torture for as long as he cared to inflict it. Perhaps, when his tongue tired, one of Luigi’s friends would take over, maybe a dark-haired Sicilian boy or a big red-faced farmer with large horny hands and a thick tongue?

  Luigi’s tongue was teasing the lips of her sex apart now. Sarah groaned softly to encourage him.

  Perhaps there’d be more than two of them? She visualised a long line of exotic men, each eager to take his turn to taste her. And when they all had, they’d all want to fuck her, wouldn’t they? One after another after another and she’d climax and climax, writhing but helpless to resist until every last one of them was sated and she was limp and numb.

  Luigi’s tongue had almost reached her clit and was spiralling in on it. His fingers were working up inside her, hooking up to that lovely spot behind her pubic bone. Hmm! The last time a man had done that, she’d made a lot of wet. Maybe she should warn the darling man? She should, but it seemed that her voice had become disconnected, somehow. Anyway, he was a sophisticated European, so he’d know all about ‘female ejaculation’.