Life Of Paul Rendezvous Tiffany

All characters appearing or mentioned in this story are 18 years old or older. This story is a work of fiction and any reference or description to actual persons is unintentional.

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If you are enjoying these stories, leave a comment about what you liked or didn't, or things you want to ready more of. I'll take advice into consideration when I'm working out the next parts of the LoP stories.

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February 1998

As the second to last semester came to a middle, I found myself pondering a lot of different things. Particularly in my own sense of self and in what I wanted to do and be in my life.

It's also fair to say that Amber had a lot to do with this foray into self reflection. Her showing me all the things I'd been missing in the normal teenage social circles was eye opening to say the least. Eye popping would be a more accurate term though. Unbelievable could be applied as well.

Like this situation.

"Fuck, fuck, yes fuck, slam it into me, ohhh fuck," Amber panted in a whisper as I railed her from behind. We ducted into a little used bathroom at lunch so we could have some fun. We hadn't gotten a chance in the last few days and, in high school, a few days is nearly an eternity.

"Oh, shit," I tell her just as quietly, "fuck I'm getting close."

"Yes, oh fuck, when you're ready, ohhh, pull out and cum in my mouth," she ordered.

We heard the bathroom door squeak open and someone walk into the stall beside us. We were in the handicap stall (rude, I know) but the person sounded like they were just doing number one, so I waited. Amber, though, did not and started to fuck into me slowly and silently, a devious smile on her face.

I tried to not make a sound by taking some deep breaths but she was not making it easy. I cleared my throat whilst moaning, but I don't think anyone would buy that. We heard a toilet flush and the door squeak again. Amber sped up her fucking.

"Oh, shit," I moan a quiet as I could, "I'm cumming!"

She pulled off of my long, thick, hard member and went to her knees, but not in time. The first powerful shot hit her chin and throat, but the rest she caught in her mouth. She rubbed the underside of the head with her tongue, drawing more moans from me and what felt like more cum from my dick.

When I was done she pulled off and showed me the mouthful I'd given her before swallowing it down in one gulp. Some dribbled out onto her chin though, adding to the hotness of her action.

"That was awesome," she commented. "We've never fucked in a school bathroom before. The dirtiness made it all the hotter."

We fixed our clothes, Amber cleaned my cum off her chin, and we went back to lunch. We went our separate ways after eating and met back up in photography class. The whole time I couldn't stop thinking of our bathroom encounter, and I was still amazed at how much being with Amber in this new way had changed almost every aspect of my life.

Take photography class for instance. There were a lot of pretty girls in here, and even though I've been sitting in the same room with them for months now, I started to notice certain things they displayed or did. Particularly in Tiffany.

Tiffany was what most would describe as having the ugly duckling syndrome, but that was far from the case. True, she didn't wear makeup and kept her long auburn hair in an easy and sensible pony tail, but her face was warm when she smiled, and her freckle covered cheeks seemed to pop out a bit when she did so. Her eyes were a pale blue that I couldn't really put a name to even if I had a color book in front of me. Her frame was skinny I knew, but I could only tell that she had about B cup breasts and a small but perky rear end due to her somewhat loose clothing choices; also sensible and easy it seemed.

Over the last year Tiffany and I've become friends since we shared a lot of electives, and of those photography was the favorite subject of us both. We often partnered on a number of projects and did well on them. So when the time came to start in on our final project, Tiffany nearly vaulted the tables between us in order to call dibs on me as a partners.

As she sat down next to me, she pulled out her photography journal and other notes. "OK," she started, tightening her pony tail, "I know we've done well on projects before, but if you fuck this up and we fail, I am going to kill you."

Oh yea; she was totally into me.

"I do believe we got an A- on out last project," I counter.

"It should have been an A+. The composition was off. which was your fault," she shot back.

"What?" I exclaimed loudly. "My composition was accurate to the task. What the hell was your's doing anyways? It was all over the place."

"Oh please," Tiffany said, "the assignment was for atypical photography which is what I did."

"Alright, the both of you," the teacher chimed in from the other side of the room, "you have your assignments, and your partners, so please take your arguments outside."

"Sorry, sir," we both grumbled.

We grabbed our bags and left to argue more outside. It was common in photography class to get your assignment and leave for the rest of class to do it. It being the last class of the day the teacher saw students for about 15 minutes and then we were gone.

It being February in southern California the temperature was only about 70, but it was still nice to sit outside. We found a good nook between some of the older buildings to look at the streams of students milling through. It was a spot we went hung out at often, both to observe our fellow student, but also because the surrounding buildings dampened sound, so arguments could be had freely.

"OK," I started as we sat down next to each other, "we can get an A+ on this assignment if we really focus on the subject matter and the topic."

"Agreed," Tiffany said. "So, how do we capture 'insecurity and confidence of the soul' in a photo series?"

I thought about it for a few minutes, but didn't have any solid ideas. What did it mean to be insecure? Or confident? And how did they tie into one's soul? After 10 minutes I asked if Tiffany had any ideas.

"I got nothing," she admitted. "I mean, if you think about it, those two things can get very personal with some people. And in some cases, confidence can hide insecurity. Take most of the football team; I'd bet that most of them are just putting on a show cause they're afraid of something."

That did make sense of a sort. "And," I added, "the same could be applied to the cheerleaders who work with them. Those smiles could hide buckets of stuff and we'd never know it to look at them."

"So maybe that's what we do," Tiffany offered, "try and follow them around and see if we catch them at a vulnerable moment."

"So," I summarized, "we stalk them? I'm fairly sure there's a law or two about that."

"Shit, you're right," she said.

We sat for a few minutes, occasionally looking at each other to see if the other had an idea. After a further 20 minutes, the sky suddenly started to darken. A few minutes later it started to rain heavily.

I inhaled as deeply as I could. The smell of rain on a dusty road or sidewalk is a special kind of smell that I can't put a name on. It's like a thousand memories all at once and a strange sense of calm even though there is a downpour going on.

"Maybe that's it," Tiffany offered. I pulled myself out of my revere. "What's it?"

She was looking at me in a thoughtful manner, a little smile on her lips. "Maybe, we should be the ones being insecure and confident in the series."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

She looked back out at the rain coming down. "I mean jocks and cheerleaders aren't the only people hiding pain or insecurities; everyone does. Some cover it with smiles, some with frowns, some with dark eye makeup and blasé attitudes. But even seemingly normal people need to put confidence of some form up to cover their insecure parts."

I thought about this for a minute. It made sense. I had plenty of stuff I use to be insecure about. But I also had stuff to be confident about, and rightfully so.

"I think," I said, "that even if we are using confidence as a shield, there are still some who accept their insecurity and turned it into confidence."

"Totally; I am thinking the same thing!" Tiffany exclaimed. We stared back out at the rain for a bit. But a thought hit me.

"Wait, so how did you turn an insecurity into confidence?" I ask her.

"How did you?" she countered.

I looked away before answering. "I don't know how personal we should get. And I don't really think we can put it on film and show the class."

Tiffany seemed to think about this before answering. "I can understand that. Mine is pretty personal too."

"How about," I started after some thought, "that just so we can know what types of things we're dealing with, we tell each other our insecurity, and then how we got confidence from it. No judging, no laughing, no questions unless it's to get further context."

She looked at me hard for a solid minute before answering. "OK," she said, "but we'll take turns. You say your insecurity, I'll say mine, then then we reverse and say the confidence part. Deal?"

"Deal," I said. "So I start?"

She gestured with her hand to go ahead.

"OK," I started, "So to begin with I lost my virginity not too long ago. And by that I mean very recently. But before then, I was very insecure about my...endowment, and how a woman might like or dislike it. It was so bad that even my best friend, who's a girl, couldn't say anything to make it better. I hid away what most men are proud to show because I thought that no woman would want me because of it."

I looked back and Tiffany, who was looking at me with neither judgment or pity, but with interest. She didn't laugh or anything, and when she sensed I was done she said her piece.

"Mine is sort of similar," she began, "but with the added twist of religious pressure on it.

"See, my parents are very religious and basically everything except church attendance is a sin. So when my girlfriends started talked about manicures and brow plucking and bikini waxes, I jumped in with the rest of them. My...bikini area grooming habits...also lead me to starting to experiment with what I like in terms of personal sexual pleasure. My mother found out and basically calls me a sinner every other day because of it. It made me feel guilty and ashamed for a long while."

I looked at Tiffany hopefully in the same way she looked at me; with interest and understanding. We sat a few minutes reflecting on what we just shared.

"So," I asked, "how did you turn that into confidence?"

She smiled slightly at the memory. "One of my friends came over one day and she had a long talk with me. I told her everything, plainly, and when I was done she basically slapped some sense into me. Everything I did was perfectly normal and right for a young woman my age. It helped a lot.

"And aside from that, she said that if I don't know how to make myself happy, I could never hope to let someone else make me happy. Cause if I don't know myself, how can I let someone else know me?"

"Sounds like great advice," I said.

"So how about you? How did you turn your insecurity into confidence?"

"Well," I said, "likewise, I had a friend who came to me and, if we're being totally honest, showed me that it takes more than a dick to make a woman happy. And that I had more to offer a woman than a hunk of meat. Still," I recalled, "even if I don't still 100% believe her, yet, it's nice to know that whatever insecurities I had were nothing more than in my own head."

"Also great advice," she said, "and a very nice friend indeed if she showed you what you have you have to offer someone in that oh so fun manner."

"Yea," I said, "she is indeed a good friend."

The rain was letting up now but it was still pretty thick. We looked at each other, grateful that we could both share and be shared with. And then we leaned into each other and kissed.

It was nice, simple, and quite enjoyable to feel her soft lips against mine. They were warm despite it getting colder from the rain and it lasted far too short a time for my liking.

We broke the kiss and looked at each other. "What was that for?" we both asked simultaneously.

We smiled at each other, heads still close together. "I just wanted to...I don't know," I said. "I just felt the need to kiss you."

"I get that," she confirmed. "I felt the same way."

We smiled at each other again. The rain stopped and it was getting close to end of school now so she needed to get home. When we got up to leave a familiar voice called to me.

"Hey, wait a second you guys!". It was Amber. She was running towards us carrying her camera. Jaime, another student in our class, was following behind with her own.

"I got great shots of you guys. Like, seriously, I think I got this assignment down in the first day."

"Nice," I said. Jamie, who was in the same class as us but never wore anything except a very large boys sweater, came running up a few seconds later. She was significantly shorter than Amber.

"It really was a great shot," Jamie confirmed, "with the buildings and then you guys in the nook here, and then the rain. It's gonna make an awesome print!"

"By all means, print me a copy," Tiffany said. Tiffany and I agreed to meet here tomorrow to discuss ideas on implementing what we talked about. Jamie and Tiffany were headed to the lower parking lot while Amber convinced me to give her a ride. I was parked in the upper parking lot we called BFE.

"Oh, wait a sec..." Amber said. She ran back to Tiffany, whispered something in her ear, then ran back to me. We continued on.

"What was that about?" I asked her. Amber just shrugged.

"I told Tiffany she should let you do her in the butt," she said nonchalantly. Both her suggestion and attitude saying it made me grimace a bit.

"Oh relax," Amber said. "it was something earlier from class I wanted to tell her but you guys were ejected by the teacher."

Content to let it go, we proceeded to the parking lot. Being larger than the school itself, it was a bit of a walk to my car.

"You know," Amber said on the way, "I was hoping that you'd pick me for the final. It hurt my feelings when Tiffany called dibs. So if we can stop by your place on the way home, you know, so you can make it up to me, that'd be great."

We picked up the pace to my car then. And I did indeed make it up to her.

#

The next day after class, Tiffany and I went to the same nook to talk about ideas. It turned out, we had ideas for each others compositions.

"Alright, you go first this time," I tell Tiffany.

"Here goes," she started. "Your biggest fear was, essentially, not being what a woman wanted. And you turned that into a strength by finding other things, some even more important than what you may or may not lack, that you can offer your potential partner."

"Yea," I confirmed, "that about sums it up."

"So then it's simple; we show both. We take a couple shots of you looking all frumpy in front of a mirror. From the back and wearing like ill-fitting trunks or old undies or something.

"Them, we take a couple of you all confident; standing up straight, flexing your abs, hair done, having a nice pair of shorts on, stuff like that. Then we combine them in post and boom, insecurity and confidence in one shot."

I thought about it for a sec. "I love it," I told her. "And I even have the clothes...probably. But the whole frumpy from the back thing, that might need some direction."

"No problem. And the confidence set should be fine; I've seen you skate around here without a shirt; you...ah...have that part down I think."

My spidey-sense told me that her cheeks reddened a little after she said that. Interesting.

"OK, your turn," said Tiffany.

"So, to sum up, you felt insecure because of outside forces telling you you were wrong to feel how you feel."

"Yes, that seems right," she confirmed.

"So the solution is simple as well; show the world what you are proud of. We do a couple of shots of you with sunlight streaming through windows, and you behind sheer sheets or curtains, showing your body to the world."

"And," I say before she objects, "you don't have to be nude cause there are all sorts of flesh color swim suits and tapes and whatnot that won't show on film. And you'll be behind curtains which we'll really only be showing your outline."

She thought about it for a few seconds. She smile finally at the idea. "I like it," she said. "But since I will likely be super nervous I will need some direction as well."

"No problem."

"And I suppose you have a location in mind for this shoot," she asked.

"Indeed I do," I told her. "My apartment has an excellent floor to ceiling window that faces west so lots of good sunset light coming in. And," I held up a finger for emphasis, "I have a mirror that will work as well for your shots.

"So, how about it? We shoot at my apartment, say Saturday? Your shots in the day time, my shots at dusk?"

She looked at me, contemplating for a moment. "How do I know you aren't trying to trap me in some crazy sex dungeon or something," she asked.

"That's crazy talk," I assured her, "the sex dungeon is waaaay out in the desert."

"Oh," she said mockingly, "that's alright then. See you Saturday."

#

Saturday dawned as bright and sunny as I could hope for. I had been cleaning for the last 2 days to at least make the place presentable to company and to setup our shots.

Around noon Tiffany knocked on my door. I invited her inside but she stopped in her tracks upon seeing my place.

"I thought you said this wasn't a sex dungeon," she stated.

Her question was valid since there were prop lights, gel lights, boxes of material, piles of clothing, and a few other things that made it look like a construction area.

"Ha ha. Since there's limited space, and we're shooting against that window," I told her, "none of this will be in the shot."

She looked around. "OK. So where is my shoot happening?"

"Follow me to Studio 2," I beckoned, leading her to the bedroom.

I showed her the antique mirror I found with Amber a few weeks ago. It was much taller than normal, solid wood frame with decorative top and sides. It was leaning in a corner but it was great to get a full view of yourself.

"Nice," Tiffany commented. She looked around a bit at the other piles of clothes, the other light stand, and assorted mess of a photography session.

"Ok then," she stated, getting her camera equipment out, "take of your clothes and let's get started."

There are rarely any instances when a woman says that and it turns out bad. This thankfully wasn't one of them.

Tiffany had me stand in a bunch of positions, slouch, stoop, and even had me take off my shorts at one point. My crotch was hidden though due to using a nude colored speedo that wouldn't show up on film. I had a robe draped behind me to hide my ass crack. Not sure if it was what she was looking for but she delighted in telling me to stick out my ass more I think.

The second part was better because I wore semi-normal shorts was was able to stand tall. The mirrored shots also had the background of a clean room where the first ones had a dirty room in the outer periphery of the shot. I tried to look as super-hero-ish as I could, but there was only so much flexing I could do.

In the end, she got the shots she needed to after only 3 hours of me standing in front of a mirror.

Being a model was tough work so we broke for lunch and hit up a sushi place in the strip mall close by.

We got back to my apartment and Tiffany went to change. I adjusted curtains while she decided what type of covering garments she wanted. She came out in my robe and sat on the couch. I took a few more light readings and asked if she was ready.