The Girl in the Mirror (Part 1) (Englisch) - Sexgeschichten

The Girl in the Mirror (Part 1) (Englisch)

... was a towel hanging next to her. Not one of those little dishrag-size things she was allowed in her dorm, which allowed her to dry herself off but which weren't big enough to wrap around. This one was full-sized. Gratefully, with a quick glance to the crack of the closed door, Tami enclosed herself in it, luxuriating in the feeling of being covered, rubbing the lush terry cloth against her bare skin. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be covered. She hugged the towel tightly around herself and looked down pensively.

She looked at her bare toes and flexed them. 150 days now. She had been counting. It was 150 days to the end of spring semester. I will get a summer job in another town where no one knows me and I will wear clothes. I swear it. 150 days . . .

But she still had the spring semester to live through. From some of the early indications it did not look promising. For example, responding to a note in her mailbox, the Monday before finals week she had gone to a Professor Brignon in Ursula Hall, the art building. With vague dread she remembered Ross telling her about modeling for art classes, on that awful morning when he visited the dining hall and spoke to her while Jen was tonguing her pussy mercilessly under the table. To get him the hell out of there before she came she agreed to anything he proposed and even signed something. Now, stepping carefully up the icy steps into Ursula Hall with almost-numb feet, she remembered thinking, This could only ...

... be bad.

Actually whatever the future held, that particular adventure went pretty comfortably. After walking around for five minutes trying to find the Professor's office she realized that the people she passed in the hall weren't staring at her. They looked occasionally but were pretty low-keyed about it. She figured it was because these were art students who were used to seeing nude models, or looking at paintings of nudes.

Dr. Brignon herself seemed O.K. too. Tall, thin, about fifty-five, she looked like she might have been a model herself long ago. She had a pretty face in spite of her wrinkles and gray hair and moved gracefully, a little bit like Jen. She wore a beret (of course) and spoke with a French accent. "Miss Smithers, I am so glad we will have a model for our eight o'clock classes," she said after giving Tami some tea and sitting her down. "As we open the classes to the community we want to expose them to the education most best that this college has to offer. One cannot do that without the models. Let me look at you. Stand up and turn around."

For once Tami felt no shame at displaying herself thus. As she sat back down and took another sip of tea, Dr. Brignon said with a pleasant smile, "I am also glad that you do not have the inhibitions of other models. Having you model will open up wide possibilities which will spread to all our students." Tami attributed the Professor's odd choice of words to some kind of unfamiliarity with English. Actually the ...