by Jenna Kelly
Kaitlyn Kristen had phoned that morning, explaining to Marissa that a van would pick her up outside the Bellagio around noon. Nothing was said about lunch, although the blonde wasn't expecting it, anyway. She wanted to look good on camera, and that meant consuming as little as possible before the shoot.
The van was there on the dot, shiny black and filled with photography equipment. Daryl, Kaitlyn's main photographer, was driving, although the Agency Head wasn't inside.
"Hey, Marissa," Daryl said pleasantly as he opened the sliding back door and helped her in. "We've one other stop before we go out on location," he explained as she took her seat and they pulled out into the Las Vegas heat.
They made small talk as they left the strip and wound into the suburban sprawl that had grown up around Sin City. Marissa talked about the night before, although left out the details of how she'd almost gotten it on with a couple random guys at the club. She was thankful that her hangover was finally subsiding, too. Bags under the eyes would show on film, no matter how much she tried to disguise them.
They pulled up to a non-descript, single-story building identical to every other home they'd passed along this street. A guy holding a gym bag hopped up from the stoop and jogged over to the van, jumping in next to Marissa.
His broad shoulders looked good on his slender frame, she thought. And with his dark crew cut and aviators, he reminded her of Tom Cruise, right out of Top Gun.
"Hi, I'm Jake," he introduced, holding out his large hand for her to shake. She took it as Daryl pulled back out onto the highway.
"Marissa," she responded, unsure of his role.
"Jake's going to be shooting with you today," Daryl explained over his shoulder. "The spread calls for a guy and a girl. Didn't Kaitlyn explain that?"
Marissa shook her head. This was certainly a surprise. She'd never shot with another model before, although as she let her eyes play across Jake's slender build, she felt her body grow hot. This wasn't going to be so bad!
The shoot was about an hour out of the city limits, in the middle of a desert. When Daryl pulled into the parking lot of what looked to be an abandoned roadhouse bar, at first Marissa didn't realize that this was their destination.
"She's not pretty on the outside, but the interior will give us some excellent backdrops," the photographer explained as he began hauling his equipment out. "And look at that horizon…"
Marissa's brown eyes followed his, finally seeing beyond the dilapidated structure. The Nevada scrubland opened up before her, disappearing in the hazy heat just as it met the mountains. It was majestic in a way she'd never experienced. Profoundly beautiful in its openness.
"Let's go, my English lass," Daryl laughed as he and Jake marched into the rundown bar.
True to Daryl's word, the inside wasn't as bad as she was expecting. If the bar wasn't in use anymore, it couldn't have been very long ago that the owners packed up and shipped out. The bar was still polished, the cobwebs and trash hadn't yet begun to build up in the corners. Even the straw on the floor looked relatively fresh.
"No furniture," Jake commented, pushing his aviators up on top of his head.
"Nah. We'll be using the bar, anyway." He handed each of them a garment bag and said they could change in the storeroom. When Marissa looked hesitantly at the male model, Daryl shared a humorous smile with Jake. "There are a couple rooms back there, if you're worried about your modesty," he told her.
Marissa's second shock was when she opened her bag. She wasn't sure what she was modelling, but as she pulled out the tiny scraps of clothing that had been left for her, she realized this probably wasn't a shoot for Esquire or Redbook.
"What do you want us to wear first?" she asked, poking her head out the door, where the photographer was setting up his lamps.
"The red bikini, cowboy boots, and the jean shorts," he replied without looking up.
The 'red bikini,' it turned out, stretched the definition of 'bikini' to the limits. It was by far the tiniest thing she'd ever slipped into, the thong back smaller than many pairs of underwear she wore, not the mention the narrow triangles that barely concealed her nipples. At least the jean shorts—short-short cutoffs—helped cover part of her ass.
Jake and Daryl were waiting for her to emerge. The male model wore a tight pair of trunks in the same red as her bikini. The rest of his Baywatch body was bare for her wandering eyes. God, he was sexy. Rich, dark tan. A Slade upper body that tapered down into a narrow waist. She could even see each ripple of his washboard abs. There wasn't an ounce of excess fat on him.
In front of them was an open bottle of tequila and three, already filled shot glasses. Marissa's hang over was still fresh in her mind—not to mention her empty stomach—but when she was handed a glass, she wasn't about to turn it down.
"To the start of a very successful new career," Daryl toasted. They rattled the small shots against one another and threw back the burning liquor.
A half hour later, Marissa and Jake were ready: make-up applied, bodies oiled, light levels were set. The tequila had set in, too, and despite herself, Marissa felt giddy with anticipation. She was ready for this challenge.
The shots started out tame, despite their minimal outfits. Daryl built a story with his lens. Couple meets at a bar. They flirt. He took pictures of Jake behind the bar and Marissa leaning suggestively against it. "Unbutton the front of your shorts, Marissa, and roll the hem down… yes, like that!"
She knew the thong back of her micro bikini was exposed to the camera, but instead of shaming her, she felt energized. She grew into her role of flirt.
The poses brought the two of them closer to one another. She felt Jake's breath on her lips as Daryl moved about them, snapping off shot after shot. His dark eyes were smoldering. Did she look like that, too?
"I want you up on the bar now, Marissa." She obeyed, splaying her tawny body across the polished wood. Jake moved without instruction, running his broad hands across her flat stomach. His fingertips followed her ribcage up to the underside of her nearly exposed breasts as he leaned down again, as though closing in for a kiss.
"There, hold that!" Daryl barked, breaking the spell that had fallen over the two of them. When the photographer had his shots, Jake's lips pulled away. Marissa suppressed her groan.
They broke for some water and a reapplication of the oil that turned them into glistening hard bodies, and then it was back into the shoot.
While Daryl worked them hard, Marissa realized that the shoot wasn't the only thing hard. She was behind the bar for this particular shot, her body leaning forward, her back bowed so that her ass pushed back. Jake moved up behind her, slipping his thumbs into the exposed strings on either side of her bikini bottoms. "Get closer to her, Jake," Daryl barked. Jake did as instructed and then she felt it. A cock. A hard cock.
A thrill ran through her, even as she shot him a glance over her shoulder. Jake simply shrugged. If he could deal with this, so could she, she thought, attempting to blank her mind of this otherwise very sexual experience.
As she felt Jake's fingers move up along her lower back, following her spine to the haltered strap of her top, those Zen-like attempts to find inner-calm went out the window. Her body was on fire and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Feeling his cock slide across her ass, she revised that thought. There certainly was a thing that could help.
They moved into a new position—this time with Jake on his back on the bar and Marissa straddling his hard body. He whispered, "You're so fucking hot." That Tom Cruise grin only legitimised the statement, as did his cock, flexing against her leg. She shivered, her nipples mimicking his erection.
"Lose the jeans, Marissa," Daryl ordered, once again drawing her from her thoughts.
Rolling onto her back, she was perfectly aware of that both sets of eyes were on her. Slowly, she peeled the tight shorts over her thighs and down her long, shapely legs. When she climbed back into Jake's lap, she brushed her swollen mound against the other model's cock. Only the thin, red material of th
eir suits kept them from fucking.
And Geez, did she need to be fucked! Feeling the crown of his rigid member bump across her cloth-covered clit nearly sent her flying.
Much to her consternation, Daryl got his shots off too quickly. "Next, we're going to do a couple solo shots. Jake, could you start setting up the outdoor shoot while I work with Marissa?"
The blonde groaned in frustration. So close, and now Jake's beautiful body was being taken from her! Maybe later, on some break, she could drag the man into the changing room and fuck him silly. She was delirious, and it had nothing to do with the desert heat.
***
Confidence high, Jessica had run over her table all day.
An immediate consequence of that astonishing first hand was the instant respect she'd gained and she'd used that to her advantage whenever the situation allowed. And sometimes when it didn't. Not one bluff was called, and perfect reading decreed she invariably had the goods when someone stood up to her.
The good few hours of power poker had increased her stack fivefold by the time the evening dinner-break arrived. With several thousand hungry players, their friends and families all vying for sustenance, her idea at the previous interval kicked into action. Ordering a club sandwich room service was a brainwave.
The quick shower made her feel human again and the sandwich began to restore some of her zapped energy. Sex with David, followed by five hours of heavy-duty concentration and near perfect poker, had left her drained. And extraordinarily horny. Maybe a power nap would help?
Pulling two high-energy drinks from the refrigerator, the blonde devoured the first and set the second beside the bed. Setting the alarm on her bedside phone, she reasoned that with the food and energy drinks, a twenty-minute nap would quickly refresh her. Concentration was essential to prevent her donking away her favourable chip position
Five minutes restlessness told her that her need for sex was outweighing her requirement for sleep. Despite the satisfaction gained from her early morning session with David, it wasn't enough. It never was. Was she the only woman sex affected that way? Sometimes she thought it safer just to stay celibate!
Reaching for her cell phone, she called the number David had given her. Despite her rules, if the young man was anywhere around the hotel, she'd have him. He wasn't, or at least he didn't answer.
Okay—plan B!
It took seconds to shed her black blouse, her nipples instantly hardened by the cool air. Her black jeans quickly followed. Catching her reflection in the mirror, naked except for the little black thong, she looked as hot as she felt.
The small Pocket Rocket she pulled from the drawer was her favourite and the fast rotational speed was perfect for the short time available. The low hum as she switched it on increased her anticipation. Geez, she so needed this!
Circling the vibrator around each nipple, she teased herself for a few seconds only before running it down her washboard flat stomach. A soft moan escaped her wet lips as she slipped it under the thong and ran it across her clit. Fuck, that felt good. Let the small vibrator do the work. That was the secret.
Her moan was inevitable as she dragged the shivering length along her wet folds. She wanted to prolong the moment, but the faster vibrations were already beginning to trigger her inevitable climax.
She thought of David as she thrust it all the way inside, allowing it to do his work. She needed a masturbation fantasy and this was his cock. The pace of her breathing sharpened. One hand went to her breasts while the other dragged the thong away, allowing her fingers better access to her clit.
The fantasy took shape behind her closed eyes. A soft gasp escaped. It was David fucking her. Her back arched. Her head dug back deep into the pillow. The Pocket Rocket was doing its work, as was her recollection of David's body.
When the deep, liquid orgasmic wave quickly swept through her body, she let herself go. Who cared if anyone heard her yelping howls?
***
David wasn't sure how good an idea this was. His mind was still in a whirl. Yesterday, he'd picked up a ten thousand dollar cheque after an amazing poker debut. Today, his long-term girlfriend had left him and he'd fucked—or was that been fucked by—the poker playing woman he'd only just met.
So why had he felt so compelled to visit Midnight Hot? Reagan might not even be there—God knows what hours she worked. His timing was based on her visit to Binion's yesterday. She'd said she was on her way to the club. If she had the same shift, she'd have been there, but so far, all that had happened was that he'd had a quiet drink and got a feel for the place.
He was shocked.
The type of exotic dancing, even at this early hour, made the place seem more like a strip club. In the hour he'd sat quietly beside the bar, he'd seen four different girls perform. The spiky haired one stood out.
They were all good, but spiky one was exceptional. The way she'd looked in the low cut gold bra and skimpy thong, never mind her sexy gyrations around the stage, had him hard within a couple of minutes. And no doubt had brought the same condition on all the guys watching, such were the bills they through on stage. He'd hoped she would have reappeared after her early dance, but it looked like she'd finished for the day.
He thumbed the empty Bud bottle down on the bar. The third had gone down more quickly than the other two. "Another," he told the bartender. So what if he was paying exorbitant prices, he was now a wealthy man. The bonus cheque the Practically Poker people had told him was coming his way increased his earnings to fifteen thousand. It would be presented at a soon-to-be arranged ceremony where they'd get maximum publicity.
Glancing around the bar again, he swallowed half the Bud in one go. Maybe he should just forget Reagan and get drunk? Take his mind off everything? It might damage his chances tomorrow, but what the hell? He wasn't in the right state of mind anyway. The Main Event didn't seem quite so important after all.
He flicked open his mobile, he'd have to get that cheesy ring tone changed. It was Jessica. Damn, she should still be playing poker. It must be bad news.
He saw Reagan before he could answer. Just like that, out of the blue, walking through a door to the side of the bar. She looked beautiful in that black dress, but flustered at the same time. Maybe it was the dark haired guy who had his hands all over her? When he ran his right hand over her ass and bent to kiss her, she seemed to hesitate before kissing him back. But kiss him she did.
David slammed the bottle of Bud down on the bar, sending the beer fizzing out of the top and onto the dark counter. He snapped his phone closed and dropped it back in his jacket pocket. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Pushing himself to his feet, his chair sent a clattering noise along the length of the bar as it bounced off the dark, tiled Sterak floor.
The redhead glanced across, her eyes widening like a kid who'd been caught stealing candy. She was right—she had been caught. He ignored the step she took towards him and angrily swung round towards the exit.
He'd had enough for one day.
***
As the sun set on the western horizon Marissa wondered if this day would ever end. It wasn't that she was tired, although her body ached from the hours of posing and holding. It was that she still hadn't found the time to get Jake alone and the sexual fire inside her was threatening to go nuclear.
Jake was feeling much the same way as his blonde counterpart, although he knew something she didn't. This was all part of the plan. "Get her excited, get her aroused, but no more!" Kaitlyn Kristen's orders had been very clear.
In the setting sun, the blonde's tanned body looked even more perfect. Her skin glowed as she stretched out on the picnic blanket Daryl had set down in the sand. The white baby doll was as sheer as her matching panties, and even in the waning light, Jake could see her dark nipples through the tight top.
He adjusted his cock in his boxer briefs, letting his mind settle along with her erection. It was a trick that every man in this industry needed to master, but one that Marissa was making very hard t
o do.
His eyes stole down her sinuous frame. The gossamer baby doll hung open around her hips and his eyes zeroed in on her white g-string. Geez, he could even see her thin landing strip. She may as well have been naked!
"OK, let's get back to work," Daryl directed. "The light and dawn and dusk is the best we're going to get all day, and unless you want to be back out here tomorrow morning, early, then let's get posing!"
Jake continued to do what he'd been doing all day long. A subtle brush. An 'accidental' squeeze. It took a nearly superhuman show of willpower not to go that extra step. To touch the base of her breasts, but not cup them. To graze his hand along her ass, but not squeeze.
If he had any strength left in him when this was over—which was becoming doubtful as his energy sapped away with the daylight—then he was going to fuck his girlfriend, Rachel, silly. Tomorrow, she'd have the pleasure of shooting with this English beauty.
"And that's a wrap," Daryl said at last, when both models thought it would never end. "I think we got one or two good shots today."
