Mimi Spender was born and raised with animals. The family cat was born on her birthday – October 13 – and her father kept two pure-bred, hot-blooded Irish Setters for duck hunting season. On page five of the family album a newspaper clipping, headed: "Dog Saves Woman from Burning House" sported a photograph of Mimi's grandmother with her arm around her pet German Shepherd. Not to mention the notorious woman, Aunt Celia, who raised and trained racing horses.
With a family tree that was partial to animals, nobody raised an eyebrow when Mimi, against anti-feminine odds, made up her mind to become a veterinarian.
At the age of nineteen she entered the University of California at Davis in the school of Veterinary Science, an unexpectedly unique field for a girl of Mimi's equally unique physical stature.
A tall, chestnut haired girl with locks that had never been clipped, Mimi Spender was a traffic-stopper. Lanky and limber, her body moved in rhythm to the sway and jounce of her thick, waist-length hair that in the sunlight shimmered with red highlights. A modest smile and apple cheeks accented a perky up-turned nose and freckles that disappeared with her golden summer tan. Shy and unassuming by nature, her eyes, the color of swimming pools, twinkled with a suspicion-raising non-chalance.
Her agility was near to animalistic. Mimi could ride and train horses as well as any six-shooting, gun-toting Zane Grey character. Maybe it was this potentially ego-deflating quality of her's that put men off. Men (… or boys, really) seemed to be afraid of her. A girl in veterinary school? Had to be something weird about her!
But that was not to say that Mimi didn't need sex as much as any healthy female. These days her love life seemed doomed to emptiness, and that disturbed her greatly. Men and money… those seemed to be her two pitfalls.
The end of her freshman year found her with no boy friend and a high B average, just a fraction away from the 4.0 requirement to renew her scholarship. For two weeks she fell into deep depression, wondering how a young woman as herself could extricate herself from this sticky spider-web of rotten luck. Her defensive female instincts told her that Dr. Osborn ('Horse-Face') as he was called) had slighted her with a C because she was a woman – the only woman in his freshman agronomy course. Playing the weak female didn't change his mind, and playing the strong liberated one put him off worse. He "… didn't want to hear about it," claiming he had serious students to consider, and he could only give out so many A's and B's, and whoever got stuck on the low point of the Bell-shaped curve was just that… stuck.
What to do? Her parents, poor farmers, couldn't afford to pay her tuition and room and board, too. Job hunting was fruitless; this was the depression and there weren't jobs even for married men with families. Who would hire a college girl planning to go back to school in three months? Except for her part-time come-and-go as-you-please job at the university farms a mile and a half out off campus, she had no income.
The answer… or so it seemed to be at the time… came unexpected when she was exercising in the university corrals a horse, Pansy, who was recuperating from a cyst operation. On that late June afternoon she'd noticed a man leaning against the wooden gate, elbows braced on the post, watching her intently. Mimi had noticed that beside him was a tripod and a very expensive looking camera attached to it, and he was focusing on her. Feeling it her duty to watch the grounds, she'd drawn Pansy to a halt and inquired what he wanted. This was not a farm open to the public, she curtly informed him.
Apologetically, he introduced himself as John Dobkins, a photographer who wanted to take photographs of her with the horses. Vignettes… a pretty girl feeding the horses, brushing their coats, leaning against a pitchfork in pristine, countrified style. She dismissed the idea with a shoo of the hand, wondering what kind of flaky character would want to take photographs of her.
… Until he mentioned money.
Lots of money. That caused Mimi to put her finger to her pouty lip and reconsider. Was this manna from heaven?
It didn't take much for John Dobkins to sweet-talk Mimi into posing the next afternoon. But what he failed to mention (and with reason) was that he was a photographer of nudes, employed by a men's slick magazine.
Next day found Mimi charged with energy. Hair freshly washed and brushed to gleaming, she rode her ten-speed bicycle to the university farms for her appointment with Mr. Dobkins at the horse stables, empty on Sunday afternoon except for the on-call vet.
Mr. Dobkins, a fair-skinned, not-too bad looking man for forty-five was setting up his tripod in the horse barn when Mimi came panting in, cheeks flushed from the five mile ride from her dormitory on campus. He'd told her not to get dressed up, that Levi's and a farmish-looking midriff tie top was fine… perfect, in fact, for the bucolic image he wanted to capture. Still, Mimi felt a little silly about posing in front of a camera dressed like a farm girl.
"Hi!" she greeted, finding him in the empty stall at the eastern corner of the barn where piles of loose sweet-smelling hay were stacked. Behind Pansy, Dapper, Saul, and Carrie swished their tails fending off the bee-sized horseflies. Pushing her hair back behind her ear, she took time to stroke Pansy's nose. "Beautiful, isn't she?"
"… Huh? Yeah…" Mr. Dobkins was obviously more concerned about staging the shot than the condition of the horses, loaded the camera with film.
When he was finished, he turned to watch Mimi for a slight moment as she examined amateurishly the incision on Pansy's right flank, drawing in a hissing breath at the sight of the coagulated crust of blood. "You ready?"
"Ohhh… sure," Mimi shrugged her shoulders apologetically, then looked sheepish for a moment before whispering, "… what do you want me to do? I… I've never modeled before."
"No problem. Just follow my orders," he directed, appraising her lithesome body with hungry eyes. "First I have to check you out… see what your best angles are," Dobkins grinned, showing the gums of his teeth. "Don't, worry, honey," he assured, checking to see with a quick turn of the head that the barn door was closed, "It's all right… it's part of my job. I have to look girls over all the time. I've done everything from still-lifes to nudes… a subject is a subject."
"Gosh… I thought you'd just take a couple of fast shots, but then I don't know anything about photography," she wrinkled up her nose, admitting ignorance. There was her downfall…
"Now be a good kid and stand up straight so I can get a good look at you."
"Oh… all right." Mimi stroked her hair smooth and, squaring her shoulders, gave Mr. Dobkins one of those helpless little girl grins that drove men wild. "Do… do I look okay?" she stammered, running her hands down over the tight-fitting faded Levi's she wore, suddenly feeling terribly asexual and embarrassingly innocent for a model. Mimi turned her profile to his eager eyes, her firm full breasts swelling out provocatively beneath her farmer's handkerchief print blouse that knotted about four inches above her waist… just enough to let a sliver of tanned stomach peek through.
The photographer nodded approvingly. "You look great… at least from what I can see. But you're going to have to show a little more leg, honey. Remember, I have to entice the reader." He stood up after adjusting the camera, his hand posed pensively under his chin. "… Guess I shoulda told you to wear cut-offs… you know, the kind with the ragged edges… Levi's, you call them…?"
"Oh… yeah. That would have been nice," echoed Mimi cooperatively. Then her eyes brightened, blue as the sky on a June afternoon. "I could ride back to the dorm and pick up a pair."
Mr. Dobkins' joviality suddenly vanished. "No, no, no… we don't have time for that. Take off your Levi's and let's see how you look in your panties."
"I… I couldn't do that…"
Mr. Dobkins stiffened. "See here little girl…" he growled. "I have a reputation at stake here and I'm offering you a good sum of money to take off your Levi's. Okay, if you won't I'll find another model!" his impatience pierced the stillness of the barn where an occasional flag of a horse's tail was the only sound on that Sunday afternoon.
Mimi's head fell. She pouted her lips, thought a moment. Tuition… this was her tuition money; she owed it to herself to cooperate. "Well… okay. But turn your back."
She could feel the color filling her cheeks at even the thought of undressing in front of a man. School or modesty… those were her choices.
"Okay, I have my back turned," he said. Patience. That was the only way to handle girls like Mimi – shy girls. Unfortunately, as he'd learned in the business, they were the ones with the fantastic bodies, the sex appeal. The countrified fresh girls who've never been naked in front of a camera before. Girls who didn't even know they were sexy and, who in their very innocence, reeked of sex. Getting them naked, now that was the trick.
Strip. Mimi's mouth was bone dry with nervousness. Take off your clothes, take off your clothes, her brain chanted, demandingly, so demandingly in fact, that the chestnut haired lovely forgot the simple element of degrees. To be immodest was to be immodest, she rationalized and forgetting about her Levi's, she started fingering the buttons on her blouse, tossing his ultimatum back and forth. This money he was offering her was enough to pay her tuition for one semester at least. And mindlessly, she undid the buttons one by one, until the cotton blouse was down to the knot, open to her narrow waist. The embarrassed girl felt a little chill as the barn air brushed over her smooth naked belly, and despite herself, she could feel her tiny nipples begin to perk up under the taut nylon of her bra. With both hands, she reached around and unfastened the snap on her Levi's and tugged on the zipper till it whined its way down to her pubic mound. She let the Levi's fall over her hips to her knees, then she stepped out of them, kicking them to top a pile of hay. "Okay, Mr. Dobkins… you can turn around now," she whispered, dollar signs flashing in front of her eyes.
Mr. Dobkins, expecting to see his model dressed in her blouse and panties, spun around, and his eyes popped open wide with disbelief as he gazed at the trembling, blushing beauty standing before him. He sucked in his breath and straightened, inwardly chuckling to himself. God, this girl was something else. From Miss Priss herself to near naked in two minutes… that was fast work. If she went this far on her own… how far would she go if pushed?
He took in her beauty from the smooth unblemished flow of her neck where it curved down to the jutting, ripely formed mounds of her breasts, swelling proudly under the sheerness of her nylon brassiere – to the trim inverted curve of her waist to her full hips swelling to curvaceous perfection and, certainly not least, to her long shapely muscular legs blossoming in firm fullness at her thighs, then again in the supple gracefulness of her well-turned calves. What a hunk of meat! Christ, if he could get her naked and positioned up against the horse… what a hell of a shot! He was staring at dollar signs now. The magazine would pay a fortune for a full page color shot of her! Dynamite! "Jesus, you're gorgeous…"
Mimi stared down at her sandaled feet, her face the color of autumn apples, and just as shiney. "Please, Mr. Dobkins… don't talk like that. Let's… Let's just get this over with… huh?"
He couldn't take his eyes off her for even an instant. "Sure, honey… It'll be all over before you know it. But first… let's have a peek at the rest of you… You know how much a model like you could make an hour? Fifty dollars to a hundred and fifty at least… God, kid, I could make you rich! But I've got to know if you have any scars of deformities. Let's give Dobkins a peek, huh?" The gums of his teeth showed with that smile and his surfer blonde hair fell over his forehead in strands.
"You really think so?" interrupted Mimi, suddenly feeling as if God had smiled on her, answering all her financial problems in one afternoon. She reached behind with both hands and unclasped the three catches of her 32-D brassiere. "See… I haven't got any scars," letting her bra slide down over her bare arms. Her proud young breasts quivered vulnerably in the open air and she could feel her tautly upthrust nipples harden instantly as Dobkins' riveting appraisal locked on them. They stood up firm on their own, without the slightest sag, her rigid, pink-hued buds thrusting boldly straight ahead like two tiny pink eyes returning his eager gaze.
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes left the twin jutting bulges of her fully ripe breasts, following down along the smooth unblemished expanse of her flat belly, past the puckered indentation of her perfect navel… all golden tan as ripe wheat.
"Now the panties…" he said, almost afraid to push his good luck any farther.
She complied unhesitantly, feeling like Queen for a Day, she caught the tight elastic waistband of her panties and peeled them down over the gentle swell of her flaring hips. She pulled her modest white panties down past her knees, exposing a chestnut vee of velvety pubic hair.
Mr. Dobkins was near delirium, his eyes glazed with growing lust as he eyed the gorgeous, full-bodied girl who was peeling down to naked flesh. Nude girls were nothing new to him… Christ, he was bored with them… but this little honey. Virginal, innocent, naturally beautiful!
"I… am I okay?" Mimi asked sheepishly, wrinkling up her nose, her voice cracking. Her cheeks were two scarlet patches that looked like someone had splashed them with two quick strokes from an artist's brush.
"Now just stand still… do everything I tell you to, and we'll both make money…" replied Dobkins, loosening the collar to his short shirt, perspiration rolling in beads down his neck.
She was the most delicious perfection of womanhood he'd seen for a long time – not since that young surfer Polynesian from Hawaii. He grinned, his piercing dark eyes two murky pools of lust as he anticipated his plans for this delectable young beauty. He tried to imagine what that warm moist, inviting crevice between her long legs would be like… he knew it would be tight and hot – it would just have to be… and those gracefully long legs would wind so perfectly around his back as he furrowed wide that sweet warm slit of hers until she begged for mercy. But he could see she was no shopworn working girl, not some broad he could just climb on like so many of the others he took photos of. He knew this young filly was something special, and he'd have to plan his moves ever so carefully…
"Yes… we're gonna get some great shots of you. First," he directed, pointing with a trembling finger at the pitchfork leaning against the cool whitewashed stone wall of the barn, "… let's get this hay into a better pile and then I want you to lay down over there on top of it… then we'll bring in one of the horses and have you kneel next to him… you know, a little touchy, feely…?" Huh, kid? Money, money, money…
"Ummmm…" Mimi eyed the man suspiciously.
With a sense of utter humiliation, Mimi, still in the nude, swaggered to the wall, picked up the pitchfork and started forking the hay into a neat pile. The air billowed with dust and she heard a deep grunt, turning in time to see Mr. Dobkins fluttering hands covering his camera lens with his shirt. Now he stood with his bare chest naked to her, and that seemed to quiet her fears of nudity a little.
"Gotta keep the dust from getting under the lens…" he defended.
She turned to face him, setting the pitchfork back in its place. "I'm sorry… I didn't think…"
"That's okay, kid…" he laughed nervously. "Now just lie down… fan out your hair… and look to the side… not at the camera. You do want the money, don't you?" he subliminally goaded. "Why you could be knocking down two hundred a day…"
Mimi decided not to argue and got down on her haunches to spread out on the hay, prickly and sweet smelling. She squirmed uncomfortably as he fumbled with the camera.
"No, now spread out," he said.
Mimi followed his instructions, and sprawled out on the hay, ignoring the dusty smell that often made her wheeze and her nose water, and ignoring the hellish prick of the dried hay. He suggested she turn slightly on one side, and she obediently shifted her weight so she faced the camera, her nerve-ends tingling as the camera lens aimed straight at her unclothed body.
"Put one leg over the other… I want to see some of that inner thigh in the shot."
Flushed in the cheeks, Mimi obeyed, readjusting her long smooth legs, unaware that tiny strands of her soft pubic hair were obscenely visible. Mimi, the country girl, started spreading her legs out on the hay, every once in a while clamping them shut again with the remembrance of what she was doing!
"… That's it, loosen up," encouraged the photographer. "Just imagine you're lying under an apple tree in the sunlight, and nobody's around… just you… relax, close your eyes for a second and take a deep breath… just you and the apple tree…"
Mimi followed his instructions, feeling an instant sense of relaxation take over. Her limbs loosened, her seeming to grow almost as they stretched out the hay, and with it her inhibitions loosened too. Just as Dobkins wanted. She closed her eyes recalling the apple orchard on her father's farm and how she and Joey, her father's farmhand, had kissed under that tree. How did Dobkins know? His lips soft and moist, his tongue probing into her mouth. It wasn't long before she was writhing on the hay, unconsciously undulating her hips in tiny circles. How long had it been since she'd kissed a boy?
The photographer pressed the button on his electric Hasselblad, flicking off shot after shot, and when the film was used up, Dobkins decided it was time to pause. Time for his libido to take a break, really. He came toward her, his eyes telegraphing his intent as obvious as flashing bill boards.
Hearing footsteps crunching on the hay just next to her ear, Mimi looked up in time to see Mr. Dobkins' face coming closer, closer to hers. She stared him straight in the eye, with the penetration of a snake ready to strike. "Mr. Dobkins…" she scolded. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Dobkins stifled a laugh while Mimi squirmed against and down into the prickly hay, vainly trying to cringe away from this frightening leering man. Looking at her naked body was one thing… that was money, but touching it was a different matter entirely. Touching and had nothing to do with tuition and making money and solving her problems.
"No… please don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she said, her voice loud, full of fear.
"Hey, come on, kid," he belted back, his fingers already unfastening his belt, a move that immediately caught Mimi's watchful eye.
"What are you doing?"
He had her pinned to the hay pile now. "You're not going anywhere, honey," the older man smirked, his belt undone and his polyester pants half-open at the top of the zipper. "There's a prop I forgot to give you little girl… a lollipop to stick between those luscious lips of yours."
"Huh?" Mimi was quick to lose patience. "Please, Mr. Dobkins, I don't have a lot of time… I have to get back to the dorm and… So, please, let's get on the pictures…" Instinctively, she knew what was happening, but if she admitted it to herself, she wasn't sure she could stand the anguish or the embarrassment of letting him see her tears.
Dobkins squeezed her calf firmly in his strong confining grip, holding her effectively, and yanked his zipper all the way down with his free hand.
"Here you are, honey," he said, "just what you need!" He reached inside his pants like he was probing deep in a grocery bag, and pulled out his thick, menacingly hard cock. It flopped lewdly over his zipper, the bloated tip slowly swelling in size as it sniffed open air.
Even Mimi couldn't hide the truth from herself now. "Stop it, Mr. Dobkins… put… put it away!" She shielded her eyes from the heavy, ugly organ or purplish flesh.
Dobkins only grinned and grabbed both her trim ankles, pulling her naked body farther down onto the hay pile, dust flying like a cloud of smoke. Mimi grasped for something to hang onto, but found nothing but one of her sandals lost in the fray. "Now you watch yourself, little lady… there's nobody here, remember?"
Behind them, one of the horses – probably Pansy – let out an ominous whine and he kicked out his hind legs, bucking, in protest to the ravishment of his dear Mimi laying naked on the hay.
"Even… even Pansy knows you're a… a crook, a liar!" she spat in his face, her chestnut hair checkered with twigs of hay entangled in her curls.
"Too bad little girl… don't look a gift horse in the mouth," he smiled down at her. "I got something better to put in that mouth of yours." The man of average height and weight rose to one knee, dropping his pants and rumpled undershorts to mid-thigh. Now Mimi could see all of his bulky thick cock and his huge, cum-burdened balls dangling like two leathery bulbs beneath the short stubby knob of his cock.
Dobkins could see his model sizing him up, making all sorts of appraisals of his manhood, and he sincerely wondered how many other men she'd sized up. One or twenty? You couldn't tell with the innocent type, those women who worked at deception. Anyway, they all looked at him this way – at first. Maybe his little pumper wasn't much to look at now, but he knew what surprises it had in store for this snooty nosed little bitch! She thinks she's too good for me, but baby, what a surprise you've got coming little girl! I'm gonna pump you like a baseball.
He couldn't help grinning as he looked over his find, taking in her pure, lushly ripened nakedness. So healthy, so damned healthy and innocent. She was a juicy, fresh-picked peach – all naked and inviting, lusciously perched on a pedestal, awaiting his touch, his mouth, his lips… and his cock!
He lifted one knee awkwardly, wincing at the pain of the hay picking into his flesh. Christ, the tortures I put myself through for a piece of ass… easier to go out and buy a piece from a working girl… Then he shoved that knee between Mimi's hips until he was straddling her securely, pinning her down on the hay.
The panic-stricken girl squirmed to escape him as he rose on one knee and yanked his pants down over his ankle, over his already bare foot, taking advantage of his momentary clumsiness. But Dobkins anticipated that, and thwarted her attempt immediately. He pinned her instantly with one hand right in the middle of her smooth flat belly, tightly smashing her against the hay as he pulled his pants free of his other leg and tossed them on the floor beside him.
Her defenseless body's strength to resist now weakening, Mimi pleaded helplessly for him to leave her alone, her mind whirling, half-dazed windmill of fear and humiliation.
Oh, God, please… don't let this awful thing happen to me! Oh God, I was such a fool! So hungry for a fast solution and now I'm going to pay for my greediness. "Oh, please, Mr. Dobkins… you can take all the photographs of me you want… But not this! Not this!"