Free Underneath It All by Traci Elisabeth Lords

hill? I thought of the days as a seven-year-old when I had jealously hurled crab apples toward the people laughing on the grass. How much I wanted to be one of them. I could still hear my mother whispering about "social class." I was tired of not belonging anywhere, of being a social outcast.

Maybe this could be the beginning of something new .. .

Mr. North interrupted my childhood memories, snapping at me impatiently, "Now, I'm a very busy man so if you could please go change I'd appreciate it. Oh, and leave your heels on honey, okay? How about another glass of champagne? Want a line?"
    Roger and I disappeared into the back room and I started sweating. I wasn't sure about this, but Roger calmed me down. He said he understood that it was scary, that it was natural for Inc to feel nervous and not to worry—he was there and nothing had was going to happen.

North showed up in the hallway with the Polaroid camera. I was still dressed. He looked frustrated. He said he understood it was my first time, but I needed to relax. He told me Marilyn Monroe had started out as a nude model for
Playboy
and then went on to become a huge star.

I said I needed a minute.

When they left, I snorted a line of white powder North called "coke" from a mirror he'd left in the little dressing area. I'd never snorted coke before and it gave me a weird, jittery burst of energy. Suddenly I felt charged, brave from the drug and champagne.

Shyly, I stepped out of my pale pink dress.

I was naked in white panties and high heels when Roger and North walked back in. They both looked approvingly at my breasts.

Roger stood in a corner as Tim positioned me against a wall. "Arch your back and place your hand on your rear end," he said. "Close your eyes halfway and make a kiss with your mouth." He took half a dozen photos and then I got dressed. On our way out he asked for my ID, saying he needed a copy for his records.

Roger was in high spirits afterward. He was proud at how grown-up I was becoming and wanted to drive me to my first photo shoot—at some magazine called
Velvet
.

I asked if it was for a clothing store.

He said, "Sort of."

The jittery coke feeling was wearing off and I wiggled uncomfortably in my seat, replaying the afternoon's strange events. My memory felt fuzzy, though —maybe from the champagne. I remembered getting the Polaroids taken and watching North's beady eyes peering at me. All of it felt strangely ... exciting. Maybe that's because I was being photographed topless? Or was it the way North—and especially Roger—had stared at my breasts? Was it sexual?

I flashed on my father's face again. It had been so long since I'd seen or heard from him. Did he even love me anymore? I pictured myself naked and spread-eagled in one of his girlie magazines. Would he love me then? Would everyone love me? My body seemed to be the only thing men wanted from me anyway. I fell asleep on the way home.

10
Angel Is the Centerfold
    I woke up the next day panicked. I was late for school again and I'd already used up all my absences. I had been warned about truancy twice this quarter.

The night before, Roger had insisted I stay over and offered me his bed. He took the couch. When I awoke, my head was throbbing from the champagne. It was quiet. Roger must have gone off to work. Pulling on my clothes, I realized it was Saturday and let loose a huge sigh of relief.

The previous day's events played through my head.

I felt sick to my stomach thinking my mother would find out I posed naked for Polaroids, but then I found a note from Roger. He said I should go home, change into something cute, and be back by noon if I wanted him to drive me to work.

Work?

Oh yeah ...
I was a model!
All my doubts about Mom finding the pictures of me went out the window. They were silly, I reasoned.
She doesn't even notice when I'm home
. How could she find out about this?

No one was home when I got there.

I showered, put on some tight shorts and a tank top, and was