Diva Dismayed: Chapter 24 – Revelations
The following day I was walking back from college with Alice, and we became entangled in one of those deep conversations that I dreaded. I never knew where they might lead, and I disliked having to lie my way out of making some admission or other.

“Thank goodness, today is my last day” she exclaimed.

I had no idea what she could be talking about. “Last day?”

“Of my period, silly. What did you think I meant?”

This was definitely going to be one of those conversations. I shrugged my shoulders in reply in an effort not to get involved. After we’d walked on a little space, however, I felt that I had to enquire further and show sympathy. “Has it been very bad, this time?”

“Yesterday was the worst. Today the cramps aren’t so painful, but it’s never very nice.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. She looked so grateful at this simplest of actions that I found myself saying “Look, when we get back to the apartment block, you must come and have tea with me. You will soon feel better if you can relax a little.” I knew Rachel would be at work until late, so I was free to do a bit of pampering. I felt happy to know I might be helping the girl.

Accordingly, some ten minutes later Alice was seated in my easy chair while I made us drinks and opened a carton of cookies. I filled a hot water bottle and got out a warm throw so I could anticipate any of her potential needs. It was soon apparent that I hadn’t thought of everything.

“Have you any aspirin?” she asked.

“Yes, there’s a bottle among my washing things in the bedroom. If you hang on a sec, I’ll get some for you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll find them.”

Next instant she had gone, only to reappear with the washbag in question. Before I could stop her, she had tipped its contents onto the table. I hastily tried to intervene, but in vain. Taking something from the table she had flopped onto a chair and sat looking at it with a dazed expression on her face. Realising that there was no help but for me to explain I stood sheepishly in front of her.

“It’s my douche!”

Back in those times most post-pubertal women misguidedly used some form of these devices for feminine ‘hygiene’ and my being coerced into the use of one had been part of my mother’s feminising regime for me. Once I had become inured to this practice, after some months Mom had upped the ante by buying me a much larger size, as befitting the ‘big girl you have now become’! To reassure me, she had stated that I would thank her for this formidable instrument with its bulbous fluted nozzle, and after a few sessions with it, I had to admit that she was right.

“Well, I can see that, but…” Alice hesitated “It’s so big! The end on mine is so much thinner and I’m two years older. How do you manage?”

“Er…” This was difficult. I couldn’t tell her that my use of the douche involved a completely different body part. “I think you can guess.”

“You’re not a… You’ve had…”

“Afraid so. Popped my cherry already.” I admitted ruefully, trying to make light of the revelation, but convent girl Alice looked horrified.

“Oh, my goodness” she cried, “and you’re only sixteen! “How? I mean, when?”

This conversation wasn’t getting any easier. How was I to get out of this one?

“Well.” I was thinking hard. “You know I told you that I dated an older person.”

Wide-eyed, my companion nodded assent.

“It was then. We had a weekend away together and it kind of just happened.”

“Ooh! What was it like? Did it hurt?”

Far from closing off this line of questioning, her curiosity seemed to be spiralling out of control. There must be a way to bring the subject to a close. I tried shock tactics.

“I can’t say it hurt, really, but it always helps to have a more experienced partner. Oh, and the sex was great.”

Fortunately, the girl now seemed to have been stunned into silence by what she’d heard. Attentively, I handed her an aspirin and a glass of water, then poured out her tea.

I could tell that Alice would never look at me in the same light again!

For the third shoot I went to the studio unaccompanied. Rachel had a shift to work that evening. I felt sure enough in myself, but my friend was concerned for my safety. I promised her I would prearrange for a cab to take me home at the end of the session.

When I arrived, I could hear a buzz of voices which seemed to emanate from a small room off the main studio. The windows to it were of frosted glass so I couldn’t see who was there but after a moment Walt himself emerged.

I’d chosen one of my prettiest party dresses to wear and he seemed pleased with my selection. I’d had a few misgivings about the choice, myself, as the top was quite revealing and the skirt was above my knee, but I was hopeful that by showing as much skin as I dared things need go no further.

After taking half dozen snaps with the instant camera, however, Walt was joined by a familiar figure. His friend Maurice came out of the little office and came over to where I was posing. I was greeted effusively by the man and treated to a warmer embrace than I desired. After what seemed an age, I finally fended him off. I was wondering whether I ought to get my jacket and go there and then, but thankfully we got down to serious shooting straightaway.

Maurice effectively took charge of the session and for the remainder of the evening he directed proceedings. First, he examined the instant photos that Walt had just taken intently, and then he upped the stakes.

“Jennifer, my dear. Don’t get me wrong. These pictures are nice in their way but, well, they’re just cheesecake. You need to get people’s attention.”

Whatever he was meaning, I didn’t like the portents of what might follow. I must have shown my concern in my face.

“You don’t understand my meaning? Well, look at it this way. The people who put together photographs for commercials see hundreds of good-looking girls. I’m not suggesting any of what my friend here terms ‘funny business’...”

I charitably took him to mean no nudity. “…but to make them remember you, we need to show a little imagination.”

I was cautious but prepared to find out more. “Okay, I think. What have you in mind?”

“Let’s start by nominating a theme, one perhaps a little over-used, but by that same token, one that will be most relevant commercially. I suggest we that attempt to create a perfect image of ‘the girl next door’.”

He walked over to a rail of clothing and selected a couple of items which he returned and handed to me. “Try these for size, my dear. I believe they will produce the desired effect.”

With some trepidation I took them from him and retired behind the screen to change. What I’d been asked to wear comprised a minuscule pair of denim shorts and a skimpy top. I could see that there would be no room for a bra underneath the latter and was also unsure whether the lines of my panties might be visible below the shorts. Both would have to be discarded! The new items were in a stretchy fabric so I guessed would be likely to fit. Even so, squeezing my rounded butt and well-developed breasts into them proved more of a challenge than I was comfortable with. As in the song, I knew that I, like June, was ‘bustin’ out all over’!”

When I emerged, Maurice signalled his approval by polite applause. The leery grin on Walt’s face was disconcerting, but the other man’s more refined reaction helped bolster my confidence.

He handed me a pair of heels in a similar shade of blue to the shorts and the photographing started.

After the more usual poses had been explored, Walt threw me a basketball for some action shots and once we were embarked on those I started to relax. After the possibilities of this prop had been exhausted, I guessed we might nearly be done. Just then we were interrupted by the sound of the outer door opening. It was too early in the evening for the cab, so I wondered what stranger would enter the room. Another surprise awaited me, however, when in walked… Pete… of all people. What on earth was she doing here?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since I saw you last. Associating with shady types like these is a risky business, let me assure you” she chided, laughing.

“What…?” I was confused, and the woman enjoyed my incomprehension for a full minute before deigning to explain her presence.

Eventually she clarified. “You probably should know that I run an advertising agency and Maurice represents a major account. We give Walt here some work from time to time, if he behaves himself, that is. Has he been a perfect gentleman?”

At this question, the photographer’s face bore a sheepish expression.

I didn’t feel like exonerating him completely and tried to emulate the woman’s tone. “Well, he’s kept his hands to himself, so far.”

“With such great temptation before him…” she eyed me up and down “…that’s quite a wonder, let me assure you. I won’t ask about Maurice!” The men quailed under this hail of banter. It was clear who now was firmly in control of this little gathering.

“Walt told us he was photographing a hot, new prospect this evening and I was curious to see whether the Jennifer he described was the one I knew already. I was correct, Walt, and, yes, she’s hot, all right!”

Ignoring my blushes, she turned to Maurice. “Is there much more to shoot, or are we done?”

They examined the instant photos and Pete suggested a few more poses. When I’d duly contorted myself to portray them and Walt had obliged with his camera, she announced that the session was over for the evening.

“Come, my dear. I’m sure it’s near your bedtime. You don’t need to change out of that sizzling outfit. Let me give you a ride home.”

I hesitated, feeling both over exposed and vulnerable, but Pete was in command. I recognised that I would just have to go with the flow. Draping my jacket across my shoulders before picking up my bag of belongings, she led me out to where her two-seater was parked up. It was drizzling slightly, and the top was up, so I was glad to get inside out of the wet. Pete held the door for me before walking around to the driver’s side. I was unused to anyone doing me that sort of courtesy. It made me feel delicate and feminine, a real girl.

The car was of foreign manufacture, at a guess, and was by no means new. The interior was spartan rather than otherwise and the leather seats had seen much wear. Glancing at the controls, I noticed it exhibited a stick shift, uncommon in those times.

“I can see you’re interested in my wheels. This baby can move let me tell you.” Pete said immodestly. “I call her Athena, after the goddess of wisdom. Her wisdom makes up for the lack of mine. I’ve had her a long time. She came all the way from Europe and is a real sports model. I’ll be sad when I have to let her go.”

“I think she’s amazing. She’s the kind of car I’d like to have one day.” I surprised myself with my enthusiasm. Cars were something I hadn’t had much opportunity to be interested in up to now.

“Really?”

I nodded.

My driver slipped the engine into gear. “Where is it to be then, my lovely?” she asked placing her hand on my leg and smiling across at me. “My place or yours?”

I cudgelled my brains, trying to come up with a suitably pithy riposte, but unsuccessfully. Her hand remained on my thigh which made me feel more vulnerable than ever. My body seemed to be tingling all over. It was a pleasant sensation which would have made it easy to acquiesce and let the woman take charge.

I roused myself with an effort. “Oh, definitely mine, please. I’m ready for bed.” My choice of words was perhaps unfortunate.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. So am I!”

“To sleep, I meant.”

“So did I… afterwards!” Even though she was engaged in driving the automobile, Pete kept her hand on my leg at every opportunity, as if she was controlling myself and the car at the same time. She amused herself by running the middle finger of her hand around in little circles against my skin. The motion felt extremely sensual. Really! This was not going well! I was puzzled to see how to extricate myself without going to extremes. I couldn’t help liking Pete but short of losing my cool, demanding that she stop the car and storming off into the night, what else could I do? I sighed in desperation.

At this the woman dissolved into peals of mirth. “Don’t fret yourself, sweetheart. I’m just winding you up! If truth be told, Fifi and I got back together again today, so I have a night to remember ahead of me. Sorry I can’t oblige you this time, honey. I’ll leave you to the tender mercies of Della. It will be your loss!”

Hearing these words, my relief was palpable, but I sought to correct her. “Not Della. She and I are merely friends and not even very close.”

“I see. You mean there’s someone else? You’re a very dark horse for one so young.”

I stayed silent, hoping the interrogation would be over soon. At first I thought it was but then we pulled up outside my apartment block and her parting shot set my nerves jangling again.

“Another time then, hon. In case you’re wondering, Fiona and I have never been exclusive!”

Help!