On the mountain top

Oh hi. Remember when I ran away to LA? You know, before some asshole kids punched me in the face. (for those of you playing along at home, I rocked that black eye. But, with the exception of some lump on my orbital bone that wasnt there before, I am fully healed)
I so rarely show you all the fruits of my modeling labors tghtfg t you might enjoy some of the photos from the mountaintops of malibu.

Please, god, keep your pants on: part deux

Hey guys, guess what. Remember that feeling I had yesterday about Capt. Creep? Yeah, I'm pretty good at these things. HE ANSWERED THE FUCKING DOOR IN A FUCKING TOWEL WHEN I SHOWED UP.

A towel that he was not interested in trading in for some pants when I politely requested that he do so. And under ANY other circumstances, I would have thrown the money back at him and booked it out, but rent. What do you do?

Right and then his towel "fell off" as he was shooting.

Have you ever seen a photographer attempting to shoot a model one handed? Because I have. I have, because as I was posed with my face away from him, I noticed that it was taking him longer and longer to snap the shutter. But, it IS really hard to manually focus your camera when you are PLAYING WITH YOUR PENIS WHEN YOU THINK THE MODEL ISN'T LOOKING.

Look, I knew I was engaging in a type of prostitution when I took this gig. His photos are shit. He doesn't know how to light (hell, he didn't even HAVE a lighting set up) and the photos are not creative. In the business he is what we call a GWC or Guy With Camera. He likes pretty girls and bought himself a fancy camera so he has a reason to be in the company of pretty girls. In exchange, the pretty girls give him some model time in exchange for his money. Because let's be honest, if you are an amazing photographer, I am not going to charge you because we are going to make some art. But if your photos are shitty, I am there to take you money, and then I'm done. Model prostitution.

NOT ACTUAL PROSTITUTION.


And what gets me is that if you get off on touching yourself while you take photos of a naked girl, then why don't you hire an actual prostitute?
1) I happen to know girls in this city that charge less than $100/hr to actually perform sex acts, so why not pay a girl that will actually do things to you?
2) If you don't want the sex and really do just want to touch yourself with a pretty girl around IT WOULD BE EVEN CHEAPER TO HIRE A HOOKER.
3) Why on Earth would you think that is ok? If you plan on being naked and touching yourself, those are terms that need to be set BEFORE the photoshoot. He complained to me that off of his models look uncomfortable in photos. WELL NO SHIT.

Please, god, keep your pants on

Readers,

In 12 hours I will be meeting a "photographer" at a hotel in town to take photos. I will be nude in said photos. I am charging said man $100/hr to have this privilege. I also made sure to inform him he will be paying me cash, upfront, before a single stitch of my clothing comes off.

But the email exchange we have been having leads me to think I am heading into a disaster.

Here are some email highlights!

Capt. Creep to me

Sep 28

Oh, sorry :).   But that sounds good.  By the way, do you have any full nude samples?  Your mm port is partial only.  Thanks!

Craftitute to Capt. Creep

Sep 28

Really? Even with workmode off? But I can send you a trial to []....that is the site I publish on. Give me a minute and then check your spam folder if it doesn't show

For the record, there are photos of me nude on my MM port. I have no idea why he couldn't see that. He has his own MM portfolio, so I am thinking he is aware how the site works.

Capt. Creep to me

Sep 28

I just saw that...thanks.  I'll take a look later since I am at work and can't access [] from here....they frown upon naked pictures of women at work :)

Capt. Creep to me

Sep 28

Yeah, they're pretty strict at my office and I can't get in to anything.

Oh, so you still tried to look at them at work anyway. That's a great idea. Nothing is better than trying to look at porn at work.

Capt. Creep to me

Sep 29

ok i was finally able to view some of the pics....very hot!  can't wait to shoot with you, it will be fun, and maybe you can even take a few of me! :)  (Don't worry...i do some modeling too, so I'm not too bad to look at) 

What? No! NO NO NO! I am a MODEL. YOU take photos of ME. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE. I am not interested in taking pictures of you.

Capt. Creep to me

Oct 17 (6 days ago)

Can you do 9?  Also, with regards to location...I need to figure that out still, but it will be at a nice hotel in Center City.  I'm looking forward to it too...I'm finally meeting someone else that likes being nude as much as I do! :)

Uh... WTF? Are you planning on taking your pants off, because I will mace your ass. I do not "like" being nude. I don't dislike it, but the reason you are going to be in the room with me while I am naked is because you are HIRING ME to DO THAT. This is not a social gathering.

I have a feeling this will go totally wrong. And if it wasn't for the fact that I literally will not make my November rent without this $200 payment, I would cancel in a heartbeat as I am getting a BAD. VIBE.

The one where she cut off her hair

So as I mentioned in this post I recently cut off my hair with a knife. Don't worry though, it was all for a good cause. Er, no, cause isn't the right word, but I did benefit from it... so maybe the cause could be considered me. And I am a good cause. So, nevermind, I did do it for a good cause.

But in either case, I did cut off my hair with a knife, and I put it to use: I had a photographer there documenting the whole crazy process. It is now posted online, and I am making money from it. Not a ton. But at this writing I have made $44 whole dollars from my emotional distress! AMAZING.

Also, my hair? Red now.

I am hoping that I get some sympathy cash for said emotional distress. I mean, really... who cheats on me with a Jeresy girl?

Taxi

So yesterday was halloween. I'm a huge fan of dressing up - it's the one time out of the year where no one thinks I'm crazy when I doll up in full makeup and outfit-that-is-more-costume-than-clothes, but I'm at that shitty age where my cohorts think dressing up is lame and really there is no where to go in costume anyway, because no one has costume balls or if they do, I certainly can't afford to go to them. Last year I dressed as a unicorn in full white body paint and yarn tail and ended up at a house party where A) I looked like a fool with my costume partner who was a Narwhal because really no one else dressed up and B) we couldn't figure out where to go in costume anyway, so we just sat around watching the World Series. Perfect waste of good latex body paint.

I knew this year would be more of the same, so I didn't even bother with a costume. I pulled out an old 80s prom dress and stuck  a flower in my hair to hand out candy. All the little girls who came to the door cooed over the "princess" who gave them candy. Then when the children had gone, I dressed up in drag and went to the local bar to watch Sunday Night Football. That was funny at least, I make an ugly man and ended up looking like the unibomber, but still, it took the bartender who knows me a little while to realize who I was.

But the real story was earlier in the day, when I had a photoshoot. There is a photog who I work with whenever he comes to town (every other month or so) and we generally shoot content for the pay site I'm on. This time he had a fun idea: to shot various states of undress in the back of a taxi cab as it drove around town. I thought it could be cool, but also was a little concerned: what if we offended said taxi driver's morals or sensibilities if his fare started stripping in the back of the cab?

Obviously, we planned on asking permission to shoot photos before we got in the cab anyway, but I tend to be rather blunt and I wasn't sure how to simply say "hey there, can I get naked in your cab? Kthanksbye"

In the end, the outfit I wore solved the issue. Who didn't love Vivian Ward

 

and the runway looks she inspired?

Basically, I walked down a major road in an outfit similar to above (a dress [shirt?] with garters showing and black thigh highs) past a row of cabs. The one that craned his neck to keep looking as I walked past? He was the one we asked.

So there I am, in the back of the cab, pulling up my dress, practically hanging out the cab window trying to get enough room to make good angles and not flash my vagina to ALL of the parkway when I noticed something: it was a Sunday morning on Halloween weekend. There were slutty nurses, slutty cows, slutty Jersey Shore Housemates, slutty fairies, and Lady Gagas walking home confused, hung over, and likely on their way to purchase Plan-B. No one was paying attention to my subtle flash of labia.

The moral here is that the early morning after a city's night of costumed casualties is the PERFECT time to slip past the radar unnoticed...

New Photographer: An Update

Okay, I have to admit I jumped the gun. For those of you who read this post I regret to inform you that I have to rescind some of the comments. Mainly the good ones. Well, okay, not ALL of the good comments, but you remember the part where I said that this particular photographer wasn't a creeper? I was incorrect.

Yesterday, I went back to the photographers studio to pick up prints from last week's shoot and to shoot again. Why not? We had such a good rapport while shooting and I had a hunch the photos would blow my mind. And that part is true... I've modeled for a number of years now, and some of these shots made me stop and stare. Yet... as I looked, he commented that he generally hateed "fake" emotion and that he was impressed at how "real" and "genuine" the photos turned out (he was referring, of course, to the fact that I wasn't actually masturbating or orgasming in the photos, but looked like i could be). This should have been my first warning.

Ok, so the shoot starts. At first it's some fun dress up: stockings, vintage garter, black wig. And then... I'm not even sure what happened, the shoot just wasn't going as well as it had the week before. So he pulls out a box of fetish gear and tells me to pick something. Hmmm. I've never shot fetish before. It's just not me (I'm so girl next door it's disgusting). But there was a chain on a collar that I thought could be fun in a Princess Leia in the golden bikini sort of way, so I thought "sure, what the hell" and went for it.

No. No no no, bad, wrong.

 See that? That is what wanting to be Princess Leia gets you. First of all, let's talk about black lace thongs for a moment, because that is what I was wearing. See where one end of that chain is? His hand. The other end? Threaded THROUGH MY THONG. He kept pulling the chain and it kept pulling the thong farther and farther up my ass. I mean, seriously, there is a limit at how far those things can go. Once it gets there it fucking HURTS, especially when you keep pulling at it.

And then the hair? Excuse me? First of all, I realize this is a photo of a doll and you're going to think that her body contortion is because she is made of plastic. Not true, friends. Well, I mean, she is plastic, but the point is that if you have me chained up and then pull me up by my hair this is also what I looked like. Yeah, it does look painful and unnatural. And it was.

And who just fucking grabs someone's hair? His excuse was that he wanted my expressions to be more "real." No. No, that is not ok. Why? Because this entire business is based in illusion, fantasy, figments of imagination. I don't like it when fat men ask me to jump on their stomach, but I pretend that I do. I don't want to watch real people porn, because their orgasms are boring. I want the fancy fake orgasms from high production value porn. So if you need to fucking PULL ME BY MY HAIR to get a "real" look of pain on my face, well great, you'll get a look of pain on my face because that FUCKING HURT.

The question is, who the hell wants to look at that?

I mean, maybe people do. But I'm thinking fetish work just isn't for me.

Also, walking into "Real Job" this morning was a little awkward when I have chain burn around my neck. I felt like I was trying to hide a hickey from the rest of my classmates back in highschool so I didn't get called a slut.

(Don't worry, they called me a slut anyway)

New Photographer

I shot today with a photographer I've never met/spoken to/worked with before. These sorts of shoots always go one of two ways: either we hit it off immediately and produce an outstanding body of work from the first click of the shutter or it's awkward and I'd rather have dental surgery than have this man take my picture.

Luckily for me, today was a case of the first instance, although we did spend the first hour and a half of the shoot to simply talk and get to know one another, which helps immensely once you are laying there naked, unsure of what to do with your body, while man  with a camera straddles you trying to get "the shot".  And by "helps" I suppose I mean "assuages the fear that I'm actually a naive ingenue who has no idea this cad has lured me to his private studio in the big city to have his way with me."

What is honestly the most interesting part of modeling is how blithely I will walk into potentially perilous situations with no frame of reference other than the caliber of photographs the photographer creates. As if someone gifted with a camera lens couldn't possibly be somewhat unstable or downright crazy. Yet, when I take jobs with photographers who don't really impress me, I'm always contacting their previous models, asking about how the shoot went, if the girls were uncomfortable at any point, etc.

Funny how aesthetics provides a completely unrelated sense of security for some reason.

But anyway, new photographer. He gets a big A+ in my book (so far, I haven't seen the final product yet, but I'm confident it won't bring his grade down). Why? Well, he utilized music to set the mood of the shoot (it is SO much easier to shoot a certain mood or theme when the music brings you there). But really it's because he didn't try to hit on me. not once. In fact, as he was lacing up my corset, eye level with my ass, he told me about his upcoming wedding.  There was just something so refreshing about that. And it made me a lot freer to be more sexy and erotic during the shoot without worrying about how he might take it the wrong way and somehow assume that it is all because I want him desperately and not at all about getting the shot.

Modeling. It's like acting. And I can fake an orgasm on camera just as convincingly as I can in bed. Neither one has ANYTHING to do with the boy.