down a short hallway. “Here’s your
suite,” she says, opening the second door on the right. “You have a sitting
room. And a bedroom and a bathroom. We’ll provide all meals. Randall and I will
be with you the entire time. We’re at your service. We’re here for you. Ah—here
he is now.”
Two people? Two people will be working on me? Nice.
We step into my room. Randall has dark hair, wears glasses,
and is somewhat shorter than Leena. He grins and offers me a square hand with
strong-looking fingers. We shake. “Pleased to meet you, Gabby. Very pleased!”
He looks me up and down. “Yes—we’ll do you up real nice, just you wait.”
I think I’m going to like Leena and Randall. I’m guessing
they’re a few years older than me, thirty-ish to my twenty-three. I wouldn’t be
surprised if Randall has a goofy sense of humor and I like the smile-wrinkles
at the corners of Leena’s eyes.
Randall asks me to set out my materials as Leena serves tea
and cinnamon-sugar donuts. We go over my sketches and color swatches, we
shuffle through magazine photos, we look at their portfolio of previous work
and eventually the three of us settle on a straightforward bikini design not
unlike Claire’s, only in jungle-evoking greens.
“Wonderful,” says Leena, snapping shut the portfolio, “we’ll
take it from here. You’ll love it.” She pushes the scattered papers into a
loose pile, then looks up at me. “You said Claire Williams recommended us to
you?”
I nod.
“She told you about the Deluxe Package?”
“Yes.”
“Did she give you any idea what goes on here?” asks Randall,
an eyebrow arched behind his dark-framed glasses. “Because we don’t want
anything to come as a surprise.”
“We want your experience to be perfect !” says Leena.
“Me, too!” I say, giggling.
“She said we’ll be touching you? That we’ll touch your
breasts and your bottom and between your legs?”
I nod.
“And that we’ll shave your pubic region?”
I hadn’t thought of that. But they’d have to, wouldn’t they?
I nod again.
“Are you okay with a man—with me—touching you?” asks
Randall, his head tilted.
Leena leans forward. “How about me?”
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “Okay. And okay.”
“We want you to enjoy yourself,” adds Leena. “We want this
to be an unforgettable experience.”
“Okay,” I say again. “I like unforgettable
experiences. I don’t get too many of them.”
“Well,” says Randall, “as long as we all understand each
other.”
They lead me into a side room. Soft guitar music plays from
an undisclosed location. I smell herbs. I shiver with anticipation. I want that
Paintini, and I want it bad. I can’t wait to show up at the beach and surprise
everyone. I’ll have the very first paint job at the beach, if you don’t
count Claire, who isn’t a regular.
Leena pats a slatted bench. “You can put your clothes here.
Are you comfortable getting undressed? Can you stand in front of us and show us
your body? We need to see you— all of you—before we can begin.”
“I’ve seen nude models at art school. I knew I’d have to get
undressed.”
I stand where they indicate, in the middle of the room,
naked, on a knee-high platform as big as a king-sized bed. I feel more exposed
than I’d expected, breasts and ass and pubic hair exposed as Leena and Randall
walk around me with heads tilted. I feel rather like a lab animal. They study
me, examine me, measure me, take their time. I want to cover my pubic region,
or my breasts, or both , but I make myself stand still. This is what I
want, after all. I made the appointment. I paid three and a half
thousand dollars for it. I’ll do anything to get a paint job.
Finally I start to relax.
“I’m going to touch you, Gabby. Is that all right?” asks
Randall. “I just want to measure your hips and make a few guide marks.”
“Sure.”
“And me too, Gabby? All right if I touch too?”
“Okay.”
Their hands are
suite,” she says, opening the second door on the right. “You have a sitting
room. And a bedroom and a bathroom. We’ll provide all meals. Randall and I will
be with you the entire time. We’re at your service. We’re here for you. Ah—here
he is now.”
Two people? Two people will be working on me? Nice.
We step into my room. Randall has dark hair, wears glasses,
and is somewhat shorter than Leena. He grins and offers me a square hand with
strong-looking fingers. We shake. “Pleased to meet you, Gabby. Very pleased!”
He looks me up and down. “Yes—we’ll do you up real nice, just you wait.”
I think I’m going to like Leena and Randall. I’m guessing
they’re a few years older than me, thirty-ish to my twenty-three. I wouldn’t be
surprised if Randall has a goofy sense of humor and I like the smile-wrinkles
at the corners of Leena’s eyes.
Randall asks me to set out my materials as Leena serves tea
and cinnamon-sugar donuts. We go over my sketches and color swatches, we
shuffle through magazine photos, we look at their portfolio of previous work
and eventually the three of us settle on a straightforward bikini design not
unlike Claire’s, only in jungle-evoking greens.
“Wonderful,” says Leena, snapping shut the portfolio, “we’ll
take it from here. You’ll love it.” She pushes the scattered papers into a
loose pile, then looks up at me. “You said Claire Williams recommended us to
you?”
I nod.
“She told you about the Deluxe Package?”
“Yes.”
“Did she give you any idea what goes on here?” asks Randall,
an eyebrow arched behind his dark-framed glasses. “Because we don’t want
anything to come as a surprise.”
“We want your experience to be perfect !” says Leena.
“Me, too!” I say, giggling.
“She said we’ll be touching you? That we’ll touch your
breasts and your bottom and between your legs?”
I nod.
“And that we’ll shave your pubic region?”
I hadn’t thought of that. But they’d have to, wouldn’t they?
I nod again.
“Are you okay with a man—with me—touching you?” asks
Randall, his head tilted.
Leena leans forward. “How about me?”
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “Okay. And okay.”
“We want you to enjoy yourself,” adds Leena. “We want this
to be an unforgettable experience.”
“Okay,” I say again. “I like unforgettable
experiences. I don’t get too many of them.”
“Well,” says Randall, “as long as we all understand each
other.”
They lead me into a side room. Soft guitar music plays from
an undisclosed location. I smell herbs. I shiver with anticipation. I want that
Paintini, and I want it bad. I can’t wait to show up at the beach and surprise
everyone. I’ll have the very first paint job at the beach, if you don’t
count Claire, who isn’t a regular.
Leena pats a slatted bench. “You can put your clothes here.
Are you comfortable getting undressed? Can you stand in front of us and show us
your body? We need to see you— all of you—before we can begin.”
“I’ve seen nude models at art school. I knew I’d have to get
undressed.”
I stand where they indicate, in the middle of the room,
naked, on a knee-high platform as big as a king-sized bed. I feel more exposed
than I’d expected, breasts and ass and pubic hair exposed as Leena and Randall
walk around me with heads tilted. I feel rather like a lab animal. They study
me, examine me, measure me, take their time. I want to cover my pubic region,
or my breasts, or both , but I make myself stand still. This is what I
want, after all. I made the appointment. I paid three and a half
thousand dollars for it. I’ll do anything to get a paint job.
Finally I start to relax.
“I’m going to touch you, Gabby. Is that all right?” asks
Randall. “I just want to measure your hips and make a few guide marks.”
“Sure.”
“And me too, Gabby? All right if I touch too?”
“Okay.”
Their hands are
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