Not That Kind of Girl (erotica)

The Ad

February 2015

"Model needed. Will pose in bra, panties, lingerie, etc. $100 per hour."

She had never responded to one of these ads before. Never really noticed them really. The thought of this one in particular made her squirm with embarrassment.

She had teammates who had barely seen her change in four years of soccer practice, always so efficient at the task while others were comfortable enough to carry on full conversations in their intimates. Hell, she had boyfriends who she barely let see her nude or even close to it. Lights out or under the covers was how she was most comfortable. Sometimes she could bend if she had a few drinks. Maybe more than a few.

If she weren't so desperate, she never would have considered it. But school plus work study plus her job waiting tables was weighing on her. She was exhausted trying to keep up and, so far, it was her school work that was falling short.

She resolved to try to cut down on her hours at the restaurant. Working from 5:00 to 10:00 every night left her no time or energy to study at night. A five hour shift of dealing with rude college students just to hope to take home maybe $50? It hardly seemed worth it.

So here she was. Reading sketchy ads, most of them fake probably or posted by rapists or murderers. She really was desperate, though, and decided to give it a shot. "Just respond to one or two," she thought. "I'll use a fake email so I can always back out if, or when, they reveal themselves to be creepers."

There's no way this particular one was real. $100 an hour just to pose in her underwear? No way. Totally fake.

Still, that money seemed too good to pass up. "I'll just send a quick email. They probably won't even respond."

"Hi,

I could be interested. Can you provide any additional details?"

She signed it with the name Vanessa. Who knows why she chose that name. Vanessa sounded like a good name for an underwear model, she thought.

Her heart nearly stopped when she received a response in 15 minutes.

"Vanessa,

We were pleased to get your email. The photos will be shared as part of our amateur photo club. No one else will see them. You will need to bring your own lingerie. Please bring an assortment.

If you are interested, Vanessa, please come to the address below at 5:00 on Wednesday. We assume you are a student and that time will work for you. We look forward to photographing you.

Regards."

There was a lot for her to take in. First of all, "we"? How many of them were there? She never considered the possibility of there being multiple people photographing her and the thought of it had her stomach in knots.

Then, there was the "regards". She had never once had anyone end an email with her like that. This guy - - these guys - - had to be ancient to use that. Either that or super stuffy. They probably smoked cigars and wore turtlenecks while perusing the latest GQ magazine. Awkward.

Finally, there was the directness of it all. All she asked for was some additional details and they had already sent her the address plus had given her a specific date and time. They hadn't even asked if she was available! How presumptuous of them to assume that she was on their beck and call!

Her initial reaction to their email was disgust. Well, mostly. She could admit that it was a little exciting to think about. As a fantasy, maybe. Posing for a bunch of strangers practically naked? Um, she wasn't sure about the reality of that.

You could make the case that underwear is no more revealing than a bathing suit. Sometimes even less so. But, no, there's a reason they were called your intimates. Your unmentionables. No, your underwear was supposed to be private. She wouldn't judge anyone for posing in their underwear but, for her, the idea was very uncomfortable. She just wasn't that kind of girl.

Still, the money. $100 an hour. Holy shit. "I wonder how long it would take? Maybe I can make sure I stretch it out to like 3 or 4 hours. I can bring a lot of extra outfits and take my time changing into them." She could be a little bit devious when there was this much money at stake.

She pulled up her bank account online. Her balance was a negative $11.32 and it was only going to get worse until she got paid on Friday. She opened her Biology notebook and thumbed through her graded homework and exams. B-, 84, C, 74, C-, 68, D, 54. This couldn't continue. She had to find a way to make money fast. She needed to be able to work less so she could study. Otherwise, she was well on her way to failing out.

Before she even had time to change her mind, she called Sam, her coworker at the restaurant.

"Can you cover for me on Wednesday?"

"I guess," he replied. "Why? I thought you needed the shifts?"

"I do. I'm just trying to find better ways to make money." She instantly regretted how that sounded.

"Mmmm, I never took you for a stripper, Tanya."

"Gross, Sam. Don't be rude." If he only knew how close he was to being right.

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