Free Escapades of an Erotic Spy - Part 1 A Spy is Born by Lexington Manheim

I was happy.
    "Would you be able to come again tomorrow?"
asked the photographer as he handed me the last of my pay.
    Well, whiz-bang! I guess I must have done
all right. He liked me enough to invite me back for another shoot.
More money! Hey, maybe I've got a whole new career here—one that
doesn't involve brooms and mops.
    "What time?" I beamed.
    I didn't share the details of my new
employment with the Bardachs. Not that it likely would have created
any kind of significant stir with them. Their own lifestyle was
anything but puritanical. Still, I didn't want to risk spilling too
many beans. So I told them I got a job assisting a craftsman, and I
left it at that.
    "Will you need any new clothes for the job?"
asked a bubbly Elie.
    "Probably not."
    * * * *
    I showed up at Monsieur Robinet's the next
afternoon, shortly before one o'clock. I expected I'd see the old
photographer inside the studio, preparing his set. However, instead
of seeing his bearded face, my eyes beheld the sight of an
especially hairy snatch. The bushy orifice belonged to a young,
ruddy-complexioned girl, who sat nude on the floor with her back
propped against the wall, her knees raised, and her feet spread. It
was an ungainly position for anyone, but particularly for a naked
lady. Yet she seemed to have not the slightest uneasiness about my
viewing her that way. For all she knew, I could have been there to
make a delivery or pick up a package or just drop in to ask
directions. The front door was unlocked. Anyone could have walked
in.
    What would she do if I screamed?
    Whatever look of surprise must have been on
my face, it didn't faze the girl one bit. She sat there, coolly
looking me straight in the eye, her elbows resting limply atop her
knees.
    "Bonjour." The nude girl's greeting was quiet and
perfunctory.
    Unable yet to fully comprehend the
situation, I simply answered back, "Bonjour."
    Considering what I had done in that very
room only the day before, I suppose I shouldn't have been all that
taken aback by the presence of another unclad female. I wasn't so
naïve as to believe I was the first and only girl Monsieur Robinet
had ever hired. Still, I hadn't anticipated coming face-to-face—or,
for that matter, face-to-snatch—with another model. However, if you
find yourself unexpectedly running into a naked girl with her legs
spread, you could do a lot worse than having her treat it so
matter-of-factly as to make it seem an ordinary, everyday
occurrence. If she wasn't disturbed by the situation, then I
wouldn't be, either.
    Monsieur Robinet sailed into the room
through the back door. He had been outside gathering additional
leaves, which he carried in a small wicker basket. He saw me and
made the briefest of introductions.
    I didn’t know what to say
to the girl so, having a terribly limited French vocabulary anyway,
I simply repeated, “ Bonjour .”
    “ Enchantée ,” she said with what I now
deemed to be characteristic nonchalance.
    “ Vite . Quick, Mademoiselle Foxxe.” The photographer rapidly tossed
the freshly gathered leaves about the floor. He was in a hurry to
commence shooting. “The clothes. The clothes, s’il vous plait .”
    I felt funny disrobing with
another girl present. I hadn't expected to take my clothes off in
front of anyone other than Monsieur Robinet. Having Nanette there
added a little extra weirdness to what was an already bizarre
circumstance for me. However, I tried alleviating my pangs of
discomfort over my abandoned modesty by thinking to myself that,
since I had already seen her naked, it was only fair she should see
me. After all, we were both in the profession of modeling, weren't
we? And professionals need to act professional . So I began by
unfastening my shoes.
    I noticed that Nanette had piled all of her
garments into a corner of the floor. I decided to do the same and
place mine just to the side of hers. There was no place better to
put them. The old photographer's studio was conspicuously devoid