Model Slash Actress

She was one of those model slash actresses that come through every once in awhile. They're generally snotty and unappreciative of Rob's pure talent at make-up. His skills at effectively creating a movie monster have garnered him numerous accolades within the industry. Today is the first day of four days that he must create a golden skinned alien for some B-movie. For four days he must put up with this model/actress who is going to be incredibly bitchy and annoying. Through out the make-up process, the girls mostly ignore Rob and talk on the cellphones. He doesn't mind, though. He has his art.

He comes into work at six in the morning and prepares his paint. Part of his genius is the fact that he can create such vivid colors using only simple basic colors. He spends the majority of a make-up job on creating the blend. A little red, a little orange, a little blue, some more red. Whatever it takes.

He comes into his little work room and sets out all his stuff. He starts the blending. Last night he worked on it a little bit, just to give himself a head start this morning.

In the room there's a chair, table, make-up mirror and a fold out table for large make-up jobs. It's usually tucked away in a corner, but today, Rob pulls it out and sets it up.

There's a knock on the door, and the director of the film and a girl, presumably the model/actress, comes in.

"Rob, this is Kayla. Kayla, this is Rob," says the director. "Okay, you know what I need, and I have faith in you. How fast can you paint her?"

"It should take me about… an hour," replies the artist.

"Okay then. See you in an hour." He is about to leave them alone when he turns back and says, "Oh yeah, I forget to tell you that I need her nude. Paint the whole thing. No pasties, please."

He leaves and Rob chuckles nervously. Nude? Nobody told him that. He turns to the girl who's smiling at him. She says loudly, "So, should I go ahead?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"No, wait. Before I get butt naked for you, I think we should get to know each other a little better."

"Okay. I'm Rob."

She laughs. "Yeah, I know that. How old are you? I'm eighteen."

Eighteen? God almighty.

Rob answers that he's twenty five. "Are you still in high school?" he asks.

"Yeah, but I'm graduating in, like, three weeks. I'm only doing it for my parents. I mean, I'm making enough money modeling and acting."

"That's cool."

She has a really pretty face, Rob reflects. She has this beautifully high cheekbones and an adorable nose, which points right to her pouty lips. It's like she's born to model slash act. He glances up and notices her blue eyes are watching him watch.

"Uh," he stammers, "you're very beautiful."

"Thanks," she says, probably used to the cavalcade of compliments.

"Okay, so we should get started."

"Uh… I… uh…"

"Yeah?"

She looks to her shoes. He wonders if it's a coy act. She says, "I was told a couple days ago it was nude, so I, uh, shaved."

"Okay," he responds, a little confused.

"Everything."

"Oh." A pause. "Okay."

He turns away to give her privacy, for some reason, and she begins to disrobe. She undoes her jeans and drags the zipper down. She grabs the sides and starts to tug them down a little at a time. He turns a little bit and watches her panties reveal themselves. They are pink. When her jeans reach the ground, she steps out of them and toss them onto a chair. She grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it up over her head. She is not wearing a bra. He cannot help but look at these beautiful breasts, which he would place at maybe a B or a C cup (he's never been good with that guess). She places the shirt on the chair and turns to face Rob.

"Well, here goes," she chuckles and places her fingers in the elastic of her panties.

"Wait," Rob says. "You may as well leave them on until I get there."

"Okay."

She hops onto the table and he directs her to lie on her back. He takes a handful of gold paint from the bucket and smears it onto her right hand. He rubs slowly and spreads the paint evenly. He finds himself getting into make-up mode, where the only thing he even focuses on is the job. He tunes out everything going on outside of the job, putting all of his attention on the art.

Kayla says some things, trying to strike a conversation, but Rob can only give half-answers; he's too into the painting to talk. She realizes this and closes her eyes. May as well get some sleep while I'm here.

He finishes one whole arm, stopping just past the shoulder. He stares at her breast wondering what to do. He has to paint her, but she seems so peaceful. Should he wake her up and warn her, or just go on as is.

He takes another handful of paint and smears it right onto her tit. He rubs it around and underneath, and gets it between. He doesn't have enough golden paint to get to the next breast, so he continues to work on the right one. He smears the paint, feeling the nipple underneath his palm. It's getting harder and moving more rigidly against his hand. He gets another handful of paint and does the other breast. The left nipple is just as hard. He is about to pinch it when he realizes that is in bad taste.

She moans softly.

Or did she?

Rob is feeling so horny right now he could imagine anything. His cock is straining so hard against his underwear. He looks down and sees it tented in his pants.

He wants to take it out and stick it right in her mouth. But she won't want to do that. She's a professional. She'd never think twice of sleeping with the make-up guy. The lowly make-up guy on some shitty B-movie that just pays the bills. She probably thinks he's a big nerd, anyway.

She moans again. Rob realizes he's been spending too much time on the tits, so he does the stomach. He swirls his hand around on the flat tummy, in concentric circles, getting bigger every time. His hand brushes against her panties and he jerks it away, self-consciously. He got a little gold paint on her panties.

Wait. Are these thong? Rob suddenly wonders because he never saw the back. He opens his mouth to ask and then figures what consequence that would have.

He paints the other arm and the neck without thinking much of her eighteen-year-old tight body that's so perfect. He thinks about the job. About the art. Even his cock deflates some.

He walks away from the table and gets another tub of paint and starts on her bare feet. He kneels down to get closer to the art. He squishes his fingers between her toes. He lifts the leg slightly to get underneath and he quickly glances right at her crotch. Her pink panties. Her pussy. His dick awakens.

Is that a wet spot? He lifts her leg again and runs his hand from the calf to the middle of the thigh. She shivers and he sees there's a tiny little wet spot on her panties.

Well. Isn't this nice.

His cock incredibly hard now, he moves to the other foot and rubs the paint into it. He lifts the leg again and stares at her panties some more. He stands straight and puts paint on her thighs. He takes two hands and grips the whole thigh, working the paint in. His cock is throbbing. It is not easy to hide at this point.

He slides his hands up to the panties and just for a moment, just the lightest touch, feels the fabric of her panties. He almost groans.

He does the other thigh and does the same thing. He stifles a moan again.

Clearing his throat, he squeaks, "Okay, you have to take them off."

"Just do it," she croaks.

He puts his fingers into the elastic of her panties and drags them down, exposing the puffy pussy. He sharply intakes a breath; he marvels at the bareness of it. It's simply gorgeous. He takes a moment to enjoy her lips, which are just a little shiny from the wetness.

He asks her to turn around. She does.

He is faced with the most perfect ass he's ever had the honor of seeing. It's so tight and round. He can see Kayla's pussy peeking out from between the two cheeks.

He starts at her shoulder, running his hands all the way down her back to the top of her ass. He makes sure he gets the sides of her breasts too.

He leans over her to get the other side of her hip and he jabs her with his hard-on. He gasps and steps back. She doesn't seem to notice.

So he goes back to working. He reaches the butt and has no choice but to place one hand on each cheek. He smears the paint in and starts rubbing. Inadvertently, or maybe on purpose, he spreads her cheeks. He looks at her tiny puckered butthole and pussy for a moment.

He says, "Okay."

He takes a handful of paint and smears it at the top middle of her ass. Then he slides his hands between her cheeks very slowly. He passes her asshole and reaches the pussy. He takes his hand away.

She moans.

He does another run through, between her perfect ass cheeks, feeling her tight holes against his skin. He does it one more time. He thinks she's onto him.

"Can you turn around again?" he asks.

She does and he stares at her pussy again. It's so wet now.

This tight little eighteen-year-old goddess is wet for him. His cock aches against his shorts. He steals a final look at the whole work of art, God's perfect creature and his perfect paint. A miracle.

There's one area left to be painted. He takes one final handful and cups her pussy. It's so hot against his palm. He feels her juices seep through his fingers. She's so fucking wet.

He rubs carefully, and she's moaning.

By accident, completely by accident (maybe), one of his finger slips into her seam. He pulls it out quickly. When she says nothing, he does it again. This time he keeps his finger warm between her lips. He slides his finger out of her pussy a little and then slides it back in. She does nothing except spread her legs and moan.

He slides another finger into her pussy and moves them both a little quicker.

There's a knock on the door. A production assistant shouts from the other side, "The director needs you now."

Rob pulls his fingers out of her juicy tight cunt and she sits up, smiling. She says to him, "Okay, see you tomorrow."