Amateur Glamour Model

(Part 1 from 4)

"Good morning, Victoria, my little ray of sunshine!" The chubby, Italian restaurant owner, said, as he entered the newsagent shop, that I used to work in. "How are you this morning?"
"Fine," I replied, smiling, as I folded his newspaper and took a packet of his usual cigarettes from the shelf. I looked forward to Tullio's visits, each day; he was a very happy man, mid forties, with shoulder length black, wavy hair, and a big moustache. He always took the time to flatter me, which I appreciated.
As, he handed over a 10 note; he took a card from his jacket pocket, "How much will it cost to place an advert in your window?" He asked, as he passed it over the counter.

Local Camera Club
MODELS WANTED
Portrait & Glamour
Over 18's only.
Generous hourly rate.

"That will be fifty pence, per week," I replied. Tullio smiled, "I'll go for the whole month, thanks." He said in perfect English, but with a sexy italian accent.
"I didn't know that you were a photographer," I told him, as I took his change from the till. "I am sure that there are many things that we don't know about each other!" He laughed. "Yes, I love to take pictures of beautiful things, you know? A sunrise, a bright red Ferrari, a beautiful girl, it is all the same to me. My friend and I have a small studio, above one of my shops, where we have a darkroom, and some of our friends can take pictures, in private."
As there were no other customers around, I continued the conversation, "What sort of photos need to be taken in private?" I joked. Tullio raised his eyebrows, and grinned, "Wouldn't you like to know! A beautiful woman like yourself, would always be welcome to find out."
I laughed, as a young boy entered the shop. As he was closing the door, he turned and looked at me, "We will talk about this, again, tomorrow," and left the shop.
I spent the rest of the day fantasising about being a model, or a girl in a `top shelf' magazine. It was fun, but even though I had always been considered `pretty', I felt that I would be too tall (5 ft. 9ins.) and my boobs (38DD) would be too big, but my fantasy was fun while it lasted.
At exactly the same time, the following day, Tullio came into the shop, "Good morning, my ray of sunshine, can I say that you look even more beautiful, today." I had his paper and cigarettes prepared, and handed them over. As he passed me the 5 note, he smiled, and said, " I have told my friend that you are interested in modelling for us, I have arranged for him to meet you in my restaurant. We will meet you at 1.30, don't be late."
My head was in a spin; he couldn't possibly be serious, could he.
At 1.30, I was outside the restaurant, debating whether to go in, or not, my heart beating like a drum, and butterflies in my stomach.
"Victoria, you are on time. I like that, in a person," Greeting me with two kisses, Tullio held the door open for me. He then guided me, past a couple of customers, to a secluded table at the back, where a younger, English man, with glasses, was sitting. "This is Ian, who owns the camera shop, next door, and this is, the beautiful, Victoria." I blushed, as I shook hands.
As I sat down, he ordered some pasta and a bottle of wine, for the three of us, in Italian, from a gorgeous, muscle-bound, waiter.
Ian turned to me, "Tullio, tells me that you would like to pose for our club."
I snapped, "This is all happening too quickly, I didn't say that I would," "You didn't say that you wouldn't!" Tullio responded.
"Why do you want me, surely there are plenty of younger girls who would love to model, for you" I asked them as the food arrived.
Ian looked at Tullio, who nodded, "Yes, we do get quite a few girls from the college, who like the money, and enjoy `showing off', but some of our members would like to photograph a more...voluptuous, older woman. Not that you fall into the category of `older'!"
I should hope not! I was only 29.
"If I was interested, what would I have to do, nothing rude, I hope?" I asked as I sipped my red wine.
They looked at each other, and smiled, they knew that I was interested, but how would they get me to commit?
When I had finished eating, Tullio suggested visiting the studio.
We went outside, and Ian unlocked the door next to the restaurant. He led the way, up the stairs; Tullio followed, muttering something in Italian, "What did you say?" I asked, "I am sorry, I was just telling myself that you have a most fantastic arse!" I was wearing my favourite jeans, which were very tight, and did emphasis the shape of my cheeks. The wine was now starting to take effect.
"Thank you," I giggled, as I wiggled it in his direction. If their plan had been to get me drunk it was certainly working.
There was an office, the studio, which was actually, quite large, and a couple of more rooms, which were locked, leading off. The studio had a small stage and was surrounded by some very professional, looking, lights and tripods and an assortment of chairs. There were also two large cupboards, that, when opened were full of, theatrical props, hats and some women's clothing.
"My God, I thought that this was just for a few of your friends." I turned to Tullio. "It is, but if a job is worth doing, it's worth doing properly" he chuckled, "the members who use this, all shop with Ian, so the expense is worth it".
There was also, a small bedroom, with a shower and toilet; there was even a pool table. "What are these for?" I asked, "Sometimes my new waiters have nowhere to stay, and sometimes, I like a bit of privacy." They laughed at their `in joke'.
"So, what do you think?" Ian asked me.
"You haven't told me what sort of pictures you want me to pose for," I replied.
"Well, there's a meeting on Friday, you could do some portraits, and, if you want, some glamour shots, with your jeans and top on." He looked at Tullio, who smiled "You don't have to do topless.....unless you want to."
The butterflies were back in my stomach.
"Okay!" I stuttered.
Friday would be good for me, as my daughter would be with her father, for the weekend, and my husband, Sam, would be working late and not be home, until the early as usual.

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