Publicly Display Yourself for Me Read Free Page A

titties?”
    “You need a real man to show you a good
fucking, baby, not those pretty pansy boys of yours.”
    More and more people join the ranks of
onlookers, forming three and four deep. Some pull chairs and side
tables so that they can stand and peer above the heads of the first
few rows. Others whip out their cellphones and start taking
photos.
    My cheeks are still burning and I’m unsure
of how to stand. Do I pose, like a model, to display my assets, or
do I stand around awkwardly – trying to pretend I am not making a
public spectacle of myself.
    A waiter comes rushing up, gently elbowing
and ‘excusing’ his way through the gathered lines. I reckon he must
come from the cluster of beach restaurants fringing the sands.
    “Excuse me, Miss,” he says anxiously, eyeing
me up and down, “but I don’t think you can wear that here.”
    “Sez who?” one of the twins demands.
    “It’s, uh, according to the guidelines.”
    “Which guidelines?”
    “Our beach guidelines, sir. Written on the
signboard at the entrance.”
    Max places his hand firmly on the waiter’s
shoulder. “And which eatery do you work for?”
    The waiter looks apprehensive. Max is a huge
man.
    “Finnegan’s, sir.”
    Max eyes the waiter’s nametag. “Well, you
see, Cliff, Finnegan’s is owned by the Melium group, which happens
to be owned by my mother’s family. So I daresay you can collect
these glasses over there and take our orders.”
    One of the twins delves into the side pocket
of his backpack and takes out two hundred dollar bills. “A little
tip for your troubles.”
    Goggle-eyed, the waiter takes the bills.
That was quick.
    “I, uh, will be right back with the menus,
sir.”
    “No need. Two pina coladas. Max, what will
you have?”
    “A Bloody Mary. Virgin Mary for the lady.”
Max gestures to the empty glasses on our side table. “Don’t forget
these, Cliff.”
    “She’s no lady!” calls someone from the
crowd.
    Laughter ripples across the ranks. Still
unhinged, Cliff hastily gathers the glasses and dashes away as
quickly as he can.
    “OK, stand back, everyone,” announces one of
the twins. He retrieves a Nikon camera from his backpack. “This
here is a serious professional photography session.”
    It is?
    Whoops and whistles greet this. Well, I can
safely say it’s as much news to me as it is to them.
    “So it is.” Max is grinning.
    My would-be photographer says, “We’re going
to be taking a few photos here against the sea. Gina, follow
me.”
    The crowd parts to let him through, the eyes
of the women locked upon his rolling ass cheeks as he walks. I’m
surprised none of them have tried to pinch him yet.
    “Go on, Gina.” Max gently prods my
shoulder.
    I brave myself as I delve into the tittering
crowd. As I suspected, some of the men in the audience reach out to
grab me. Hands grope for my breasts and ass. A scurrilous finger
even darts out to touch my left pussy lip before I can hurry
away.
    “Hey, no touching the lady,” Max says behind
me.
    He is greeted with guffaws and bawdy jests.
I catch sight of Alex (I think it’s Alex, though I can’t be sure,
and I wish they would lose the color coordination next time). I
increase my pace. I’ve slipped off my footwear, and the sunbaked
sand is hot beneath my soles.
    The crowd of beachgoers avidly follows us as
though we are Pied Pipers.
    We come out to an open space where a scenic
rock formation sprawls across a wide expanse of sand.
    “Get on that, Gina,” my photographer says
with a grin. “It’s Showtime.”

4
     
    I have never had my photograph taken in the
nude before. I have never made a suggestive pose on film.
    Now here I am in front of a captive
audience, virtually naked. My natural shyness wages a struggling
battle against my willingness to obey the terms of my contract.
    Max understands this. He nods appreciatively
from the side.
    “You’re beautiful, doll,” he assures me.
    Alex crouches before the rock formation. He
raises his Nikon