Exposing Charlotte Meek. (closed for AngelaSaxon).

[adamzapple]

Exposing Charlotte Meek.
(closed for AngelaSaxon.)
​

“Listen, I’m telling you, if this works out, the sky is the limit, you know what I’m saying....”

Max Capra was using his hands free car phone, steering through the afternoon traffic, and silently cursing every other road user.

“Who am I talking about? That girl, the one in the news, Charlotte Meek..”

He leaned on the horn and gave the finger to a motorist hesitating before him.

“I know,” he said, “Faith healer, spirit healer, whatever; there’s a difference? Who cares? Listen, if she’s a fake, I’ll soon find out.”

Max was a publicist, a wheeler-dealer, he knew the score, he knew the people to call. Also, he knew a sure-thing when he saw it, and Charlotte Meek was a sure-thing. He felt it in his water.

“Yeah, yeah, her. Orphan, convent school-girl, eighteen years old and pure as the driven snow. You couldn’t make it up, right?”

He frowned at the scribbled, hand-written directions, took a sharp right and floored the accelerator.

“Is she a looker? Are you kidding? I saw one photograph, just the one, taken last week, school year-book. Listen to me, if tits were brains this girl would be fucking Einstein, you know what I’m saying?”

The route he’d taken had led Max to a peaceful tree-lined street with lots of big, old-fashioned houses set behind security gates and dense hedges.

“Yeah, listen, I gotta go. I think this is it...”

Max pulled into the kerb and looked at the building before him; Victorian, maybe, but what did he know, with gables, lots of windows, grass verges and trees.

A fucking convent school, he thought, that was a first. During his colourful career he’d visited a lot of places, mansions, prisons, hotels, tenements, strip-joints, casinos, airports and brothels, always in search of the next client; the lastest sure-thing. It was the first time he’d ever arranged to collect a client from a convent school.

Max leaned on the horn and waited with the engine running. Inside, he was fired-up, eager to start; green-lights across the board. Also, impatient.

The one thing Max excelled at was interpreting the public need, the multitudes desire for the next big distraction, the hot-story, the latest new celebrity to hit the headlines.

His second greatest skill was for looking after number one, and the easy-going manner he could turn on and off at will was his greatest asset when it came to getting what he wanted and indulging his own particular needs.

He was about to lean on the horn again when he saw a lone female figure with a suitcase cautiously approaching the gates. Leaning across, he opened the door, and waited.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte awkwardly carried her suitcase down to the car, feeling self-conscious about the impression she would be making on Mr Capra.

The beautiful girl was wearing the most modest of her limited and entirely modest wardrobe, since she knew it would be impossible to hide what had come to dominate all of her interactions with men. It had taken her longer than it probably should have, but even in the orphanage she had realised that men tended to talk to her chest, no matter how much she tried to conceal the huge and firm breasts she had developed on her skim body over the last years. She didn't want Mr Capra to view her that way!

Charlotte didn't really understand her new-found celebrity, but she knew Mr Capra was supposed to be her chance to escape the institution in which she had lived for so long now.

Mr Johnson, the custodian, who Charlotte thought genuinely cared for her, had made that very clear to her in a long talk. Though his eyes had kept sliding downwards as he did so. "I'll sure miss having you bouncing around," he'd said with another glance at her chest, shaking his head at how amazing this girl's body had become.

She may have disliked being undressed even in front of other girls, but Mr Johnson had been lucky enough to get a peak when he'd accidentally looked through a hole he had drilled into the wall of the showers used by the oldest of the girls at the institution, and his jaw had literally dropped at what he saw.

It had been him who had talked to Max Capra when things had gone public, and him who had forwarded the yearbook photo, albeit with his own descriptions to aid with interpretation.

And now Charlotte struggled down to the car of her new agent.

It was the nicest car she had ever seen. As she drew near, she smiled at the man in the driver's seat.

"Hello!" she called out brightly, nervous but hopeful.

 

[adamzapple]

“Hey, Charlotte, how are you?” Max greeted her. “Climb on in here and we’ll be away,” he said. “People to see, places to go.”

Max was wise enough to keep his gaze firmly fixed on Charlotte’s face as she slipped in to the car although it was far from easy; his eyes just naturally seemed to want to crawl all over the young woman’s chest.

This time, he thought, the camera most certainly didn’t lie. The institutional style clothes she wore - kind of grey and drab - didn’t do her any favours, but even the loose-fitting top couldn’t conceal her obvious charms.

Maybe get her a new wardrobe, was his initial thought, but then he thought ahead: maybe not, this innocent look might go over big time; kind of Mother Theresa with tits.

“I’ve arranged a low-key photo shoot at the hotel,” he said, as they drove away from the convent-school. “Nothing too intimidating, couple of camera flashes, quick smile, and off we go. Sound okay to you?”

Max smiled as he glanced at Charlotte but the sleazy wheels of his mind were already working overtime. He was glad he’d decided to borrow this car instead of arriving in his own worn-out, busted-up bag of nails.

And he was also thinking that maybe, just maybe, if word got out that Charlotte’s gift, power, whatever the hell it was, worked even better if people actually touched her...

Max felt something turn over inside him; if there was one thing he knew it was people and people loved a little spice, a little lewd excitement in their drab and dismal lives. He owed the custodian, Johnson, a few beers for putting him on to this.

He started humming a little tune as he drove, things were definitely looking up. It was an old tune he remembered from somewhere, something about a guy with a golden ticket...

First, the photo shoot, then tomorrow, a couple of phone calls, and then? Well, then he’d see, but whatever happened, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be what Charlotte had in mind.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

"So…um…can I ask what happens next?" Charlotte asked as they drove. "You said something about a photo…or photos?"

She had almost no experience of being the subject of photographs, other than annual school photos, and the idea seemed vaguely disturbing somehow. She was, however, determined to be helpful, and to not cause trouble for Mr Capra. Mr Johnston had been very clear on that point. A people-pleaser of some stature, she would probably have done so in any case.

The road from the institution was more than a little rocky, and Charlotte silently thanked the powers that be for the industrial-strength bra she wore which was preventing excessive jiggling. (Her combination of generally slim figure with enormous round boobs made it difficult for her to choose from the very limited range of sizes available of the institution's uniforms, and ultimately she had been forced to alternate between a uniform that sometimes looked like it would burst open at any minute, and one designed for a, to be crude, fat girl - which Charlotte most definitely was not.)

They seemed to be hitting every big bump. Almost as if he was aiming for them!

That ridiculous thought was cut off when the car turned slightly and hit an exceptionally large pot-hole, which made the car jump off the road and set her boobs bouncing as if putting on their own show. (A boy riding a bike coming the other way noticed and accidentally rode off the road, his head still craning to try to keep Charlotte in view even as his bike flew into some bushes.)

Charlotte saw Mr Capra's eyes go wide at the sight, and her face started to get pink with embarrassment. If her hands weren't on the dashboard in front of her providing her a sense of safety and stability, she would have used them to try to keep her breasts under control. She hoped he wasn't forming a negative opinion of her already, and looked away, unable to meet his eyes and determinedly staring out of the window, just a moment too late to see the boy formerly riding his bike, staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

This meant that Capra didn't have to work to suppress the little grin which sprouted on his face. Nor did he have to work so hard to hide the glances he took at his passenger. At particular parts of his passenger, anyway...

 

[adamzapple]

As he drove Capra couldn’t help but be aware of just how self-conscious his passenger was of her over-sized chest. He saw how she studiously avoided making any kind of eye-contact.

Any other man, a gentleman maybe, he thought, might have taken pity on her and felt a little sorry for a young woman who was so clearly embarrassed by her outstanding breasts; he could almost feel the heat coming off her every time she blushed.

But, sorry sweetheart, he thought, you lucked out; Max Capra ain’t any kind of gentleman. He could, however, act the part when it suited his needs.

“Just your regular initial publicity photo-shoot,” he told her as he drove to the hotel. “No big deal. You’re hot news, the public is always hungry; we’re gonna feed ‘em.”

It would be interesting, too, he thought, to see how the press guys reacted. If Charlotte was the prize he thought she was they’d be falling over themselves to get the best shot.

He hit another section of roadworks just a little faster than he needed to, mostly through devilment; it was kind of fascinating to watch from the corner of his eye the way her chest bounced and swayed as if possessed with a heavy, delicious motion all of its own.

As he pulled up before the hotel he saw three or four press-men milling around outside with their cameras at the ready. There were probably a few more inside.

Capra got out first, always the gentleman when he wanted to be, and opened the door for Charlotte.

“Just hold on to my arm and smile, Charlotte,” he said, as the press men recognised them and hurried to meet them. “They’re really not as bad as they look.”

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Max ushered Charlotte out of her seat in a seemingly very helpful way she couldn't resist.

Faced with a converging flock of journalists and cameramen, she first tried to smile and then gave up and just looked at the ground, with an occasional glance at their destination - a building that looked, to her at least, a thousand times flashier and more modern than the institution from which she had so very recently emerged.

That alone was making her feel both daunted and a bit excited, like she would be entering into an adventure, but safe, with the guidance of Mr Capra.

Mr Johnston has said there might be more journalists, anyway; he had said to her that "like me, they probably just would really like getting a peek at you".

That made it all sound pretty harmless, she supposed.

Now that they were getting closer, she could hear them. "Holy crap, it's a hot stripper in an Amish costume, when's the show?" she heard one of the cameramen say, sniggering, as she was quickly guided further from the safety of the car toward the hotel.

Since they were moving fairly fast and it seemed like they might move even faster, Charlotte put an arm over her dress to keep her boobs in check, a practical step she had learned was sometimes necessary but one she had rarely done in the presence of men, let alone these strangers, some with cameras, who seemed almost to be leering at her.

She couldn't tell if they were moving to get past the journalists quickly, or moving toward them, since everyone seemed to be going to meet near the door of the hotel.

 

[adamzapple]

“Guys? Polite?” Capra said as the press corp crowded around. He knew most of them, not that his words would make any difference; appeals for decorum invariably fell on deaf ears where the press were concerned.

Capra walked a little faster than he strictly needed to as he put a protective arm around his young, innocent charge and hurried her towards the revolving doors.

Firstly because any apparent sense of haste seemed to generate added interest among any idle passers-by. Secondly, well, it couldn’t hurt if Charlotte’s breasts bounced around a little more; any publicity was good publicity.

As it happened, there were a few people on the street who paused and looked over to see what the sudden activity was all about.

“Just keep walking, Charlotte, I’ll take good care of you,” he said. Privately, he was elated by the reaction of the newsmen. As he’d expected, none of them were looking at Charlotte’s face, even the passersby had stopped to ogle her. Just about all the men in sight were undressing her with their eyes.

They hit a kind of pedestrian traffic jam as they reached the revolving glass doors. Capra and Charlotte squeezed into one section with a couple of eager news-men, while at the same time, a party of guests leaving the hotel were packed into the adjacent section and pushing to get out, with the inevitable result that the door was momentarily stalled.

Capra saw Charlotte beside him, helplessly pushed up against the glass, by the crush in their section. Even her loose-fitting clothes couldn’t conceal her impressive breasts as they were squashed up tight against the glass, much to the delight of the newsmen already waiting in the hotel lobby who wasted no time taking pictures.

“It’s okay, Charlotte, we’ll get through here in just a second,” he assured her, even though in truth he couldn’t have been more pleased and excited about the way things were working out. He couldn’t have engineered it any better himself.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Everything was hectic but seemed to go fine for Charlotte until they reached the revolving glass doors. Just as she thought they had escaped the attentions of all the journalists and cameramen, a couple of members of that pack of grinning men had squeezed themselves into the small space with Max and Charlotte.

Worse, with people trying to get out at the same time, the door had just stopped, with Charlotte pushed into the glass in front of her.

As her boobs were squashed into the door, making circles like small dinner plates even through her dress, she could see through her wide, near-panicked eyes the suddenly delighted men with cameras inside starting to focus their equipment in her direction.

Max was saying soothing things behind her, but the door wasn't moving!

She tried to push the door forward, but only succeeded in repeatedly squishing her enormous firm tits against the glass, something enthusiastically captured on film and indeed video by the laughing media people.

Charlotte was so focussed on all this that she didn't notice the journalists stuck inside the door with her and Mr Capra as they got a good close-up look at the incredibly hot instant-celebrity-to-be. As a consequence, Charlotte didn't hear when one of them murmured to Max that "your faith healer or whatever looks more like the hottest Playboy centrefold ever, only with bigger tits".

 

[adamzapple]

In the heat of the moment, in the body crush in the revolving doors, Capra took careful note of everything that was happening.

The press, naturally, were lapping it up, all their attention was on Charlotte and her predicament. At times like that, under the right circumstances, a kind of wolf-pack mentality took over. Capra had seen it before.

Their camera shutters worked continuously; an attractive young woman caught in an awkward predicament, and the press were loving it. He knew that it wouldn’t be too difficult to work up a media frenzy, especially when the bait was Charlotte. Then, who knew what might happen.

And then there was Charlotte, herself, red-faced, uncomfortable, a little bewildered, but mostly cute and sexy, helpless and vulnerable, trapped there as she was. Her tits squeezed up against the glass for the hungry cameras and nothing she could do about it.

As he began to extricate them both from the stalled revolving doors, Capra knew he was going to enjoy exposing Charlotte Meek to the adoring and ever watchful eyes of the public, the press, everyone: and not least himself.

“Charlotte? This way, come with me,” he said, as he forced their way into the crowded lobby. “The lift doors, come on,” he said.

He led Charlotte through the crowd of newspapermen who gave way only reluctantly; the poor young womans breasts bouncing wildly as they scooted to the lift and breathlessly closed the doors.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte was so relieved to be out of the revolving door, no longer trapped staring as grinning men pointed cameras at her embarrassment, that she just attached herself to Mr Capra's arm and followed him without thinking, in a sense not merely to do with the direction they were walking. She was quickly learning to trust and rely on him.

She just hoped he wouldn't lose respect for her because of this incident. She didn't want to think about what those journalists would say, or do with the photos they had so gleefully taken. She couldn't only hope Mr Capra would understand. She didn't want to let him down.

Together they managed to get to the lift without her further embarrassing herself. The sense of relief she felt as the doors closed could not be measured in any conventional way; it felt tidal in scope, like a refugee from some awful war-zone being finally granted protection. Ok, she knew that was over-the-top. But this was all so new to her, and she wanted others to view her as she viewed herself - as a proper, respectable young woman, modest and kind.

As the lift started to rise, she tried to relax and get herself together.

In truth, Charlotte wasn't so sheltered as to be unaware her standards were not shared by all.

She knew that many would see her reluctance to wear anything other than a conservative one-piece bathing suit at the beach as reflecting her lack of confidence and daring. She had only been to a beach twice, on school excursions, and only once in the last two years. But it was the last trip, after her boobs had so spectacularly bloomed, that had sealed her into this position.

She had not even noticed, until it was pointed out to her by a few of her giggling schoolgirl companions, that even in her one-piece suit Charlotte was being watched - overtly or at least not very effectively covertly - by every guy on the beach old enough to react to a body hotter than any other within miles, with curves out of a pornographic dream. She had become a walking wet dream, not that she ever thought about it in those terms exactly.

But in her mind she was still engaged with Mr Capra in trying to bring help to people, something inherently respectable. Not for one moment did it occur to her to connect any of these concerns to her newfound public existence. Or to connect how guys had reacted to her on the beach all those months ago, to the impending photo-shoot or any of the other public activities she knew were being planned, though not with her really understanding how this was happening, or what it all meant.

She had trusted the custodian back at the institution, and he had said to trust Mr Capra, so she did.

Using this brief moment to try to reflect on how to be useful to Mr Capra, she decided that she was going to ask him about these plans, and if she could play some role in helping work out the details.

But just then the doors opened and it all fell from her mind as the world seemed to rush back into her immediate attention, as if unwilling to allow her the time to take even a bit of control of things.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra was enjoying himself, really a lot. This girl, he thought, this girl, she hasn’t got a clue what effect she has on people. Then, he thought, maybe she does, on some level, but her thoughts are up aloft, clear sky dreams, innocent, unworldly,while his own, his own were well and truly in the gutter.

As the doors whooshed open he held Charlotte’s arm and hurried her along the plush carpeted hallway. It was exceedingly pleasant to feel her large breast trembling and brushing against the side of his hand where he held her. The pleasure was intensified by the sight of a janitor accidentally steering his loaded service trolley into the wall as he gaped at Charlotte as they passed.

“That wasn’t too bad downstairs,” he said, breezily as he paused and opened the door to Charlotte’s suite. “Those pressmen, you know, give ‘em an inch... But don’t let it phase you, you’re big news, we’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

He gave Charlotte a brief outline of their plans for the next day as he showed her into her hotel room; breakfast in her room, to avoid unwanted attention, he said. Then they were going to open a new hospital wing.

“This is the big-time,” he said, briskly rubbing his hands together, and making a supreme effort of will power to keep his eyes on her face.

“Lots of press there, a couple of TV cameras, maybe. They want you to wear scrubs, you know, green scrubs? like the theatre staff wear? Just to look the part, no big deal. I’ll bring them in the morning so that you can try them on for size...”

Charlotte Meek in scrubs, he thought, tight, clinging, thin cotton, velcro and strings. A wardrobe malfunction just waiting to happen.

Honey, he thought, tomorrow the whole fucking sleazy world of the press was going to get a treat. And he was going to be right there with them, feasting on her discomfort and shame.

Capra, you’re a rat, he told himself, taking in the sweet young woman’s trusting smile. But a rats gotta live, right?

Smiling, and with a final reassuring word that everything would be fine, he closed the door and left Charlotte alone in her room.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte couldn't help but enjoy the breakfast provided by the hotel, so different from the food back at the institution. She didn't want to be selfish, but life did seem to be getting better, even if in a way so hectic and new that she didn't feel she really understood everything that was going on. Mr Capra was such an important and busy man, you could tell from how often he was on the phone.

After breakfast she took a shower, enjoying the seemingly unlimited hot water, again so different from her life back at the institution. She didn't let herself take too long, not wanting to delay anything or cause problems for Mr Capra in any way, and soon washed the soap suds from over her smooth wet skin and stepped out of the shower. The mirror was steamed up, but Charlotte preferred it that way. In truth she wasn't entirely comfortable with her own naked body, even when alone.

She prepared to get dressed afterward to be ready for the journey to the hospital. And after all, what could be more worthy than opening a hospital?

Then she remembered that Mr Capra had said they wanted her to wear the hospital scrubs, a uniform of the sort she thought she had seen on television. If she put on her own clothes, she would only have to get dressed again.

Instead, Charlotte wrapped a towel carefully around her still slightly wet body and held the two sides together with one hand behind her as she pushed open the bathroom door a little with the other hand. "Mr Capra? Are you here yet?" she called out. "Do you have the hospital clothes I am supposed to wear?"

Hearing no reply and realising she was alone, Charlotte relaxed and stepped out of the small, somewhat steamy space into the relative openness of her hotel room. She walked across the soft carpet in her bare feet, arriving at her suitcase next to the table. She bent over and unzipped the case, to look for her hairbrush.

She was too engrossed in looking for the brush to notice, but it was at this moment that the door to the hotel door quietly opened behind her. Her barely covered, perfect bubble butt was pointing right at the door.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra shared the elevator up to the fifteenth floor with a party of Chinese tourists. Chinese, Japanese, who the hell could tell? Walking through the lobby a moment before he’d seen them crowding out of the hotel restaurant, some still clutching the menu cards.

A clean-cut bunch, students maybe, crew-cuts and white shirts and the inevitable cameras hanging around their necks. Their incessant foreign voices filled the confined space inside the elevator but Capra ignored them and leaned against the back wall as the floor numbers counted up.

A new day, another chance to make some dough, another chance to... what exactly? To embarrass his young client, first and foremost. Everyone had a kink, Capra’s private delight was relishing those special moments when a young attractive woman found herself caught up in a situation beyond her control. More specifically, a potentially revealing situation, beyond her control.

It was the look on their faces, the doe-like look in their anxious eyes, helpless, defenceless, embarrassed, no where to turn, obliged to endure their misfortunes before the unblinking gaze of the public and the unwavering see-all lens of the camera.

They were priceless moments that, for Capra, made life worth living. It was pure good fortune that he’d lucked on to Charlotte Meek. Somewhere, a deviant god smiled benevolently on Frank Lloyd Capra.

Today, he’d brought along the scrubs he’d mentioned to Charlotte, except no hospital would ever issue its staff the style of costume Capra had under his arm. Last night he’d paid a visit to a fantasy costume designer he knew.

“Something white, and more like a lab-coat than scrubs,” he’d explained. “Stretchy, you know, close fitting, like a second skin? About thigh length, and with velcro fastening down the front? something like that?”

Now, as the elevator reached the fifteenth floor he waited impatiently for the Chinese-Japanese tourists to shuffle out before him. It seemed they were all talking at once, maybe they were lost, but what did he care?

Capra was on a mission and he felt good inside, elated, filled with the special kind of anticipation that comes along all too rarely in life. He followed the milling crowd along the corridor, eager to see Charlotte again, and especially to present her with her pseudo-uniform for the day.

Sighing impatiently at the slow progress of the group before him, Capra squeezed by and opened Charlotte’s door. Maybe he should knock, he thought, but where’s the fun in that?

He felt the tourists at his back as the door swung smoothly open, then suddenly he was aware of the silence that descended over them, as they all looked into Charlotte’s room over his shoulder.

They all came to a staggered halt behind him, it was like a train coming to an abrupt and unscheduled stop, and those at the rear collided with those at the front. Without even looking, Capra knew they were all gazing at the same enticing view that he was unexpectedly enjoying.

The morning sunlight filled Charlotte’s room and highlighted the plush, expensive furnishings, the flash of chrome, the soft pastel colour on the walls.

And there, centre-stage, in a shaft of sunlight, with dust motes drifting slowly in the air, stood Charlotte, bent over at the waist, searching in her suitcase for something.

She was wrapped only in a soft, fluffy towel. Her still-wet hair hung down about her naked shoulders. She was blissfully unaware that she was being observed at that moment, not only by Capra, but by a dozen or so foreign tourists who were all now gazing with expressions that swiftly changed from casual interest, to surprise, to obvious delight.

Capra could have stood there all day, it was the kind of moment he relished. Charlotte was holding the towel closed at her back, it really wasn’t big enough for the task required of it. His gaze fixed unblinking on the sweet, inviting curve of her ass-cheeks where they showed beneath the edge of the towel.

Thirteen or fourteen pairs of eyes gazed longingly at the backs of her bare, taut thighs, and then higher, at the subtle inviting shadows between her legs, then still higher at her partly-exposed, and perfectly shaped bottom.

No one stirred, no one spoke, Capra actually wondered if any of them actually took a breath. It was beautiful, he thought, perfect, and he waited, letting all the rubber-necking onlookers get a good long look before he finally broke the silence.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” he said, cheerfully, and waited for her to look up.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte was absorbed in searching her suitcase, oblivious to her audience, and so was more than a little startled when Mr Capra said hello. This was obvious to everyone watching, since her body jumped in surprise, and for a brief moment the towel flapped up behind her.

Though luckily for what composure she had Charlotte didn't realise, her gloriously round, smooth bottom, still slightly wet from her shower, was briefly but for a second fully exposed to all those taking in the view.

But then gravity brought the towel back down, and embarrassment brought Charlotte to a standing position.

She turned around, wide eyed, to face the open doorway, even while trying to make sure the towel was doing a job it was not quite large enough to comfortably do. Awkwardly, she did what was necessary: by having the towel wrapped around her so that the upper edges were less than two inches above the top of her nipples, the towel could be held so that the bottom was a couple of inches below her crotch. But because of the distance her boobs jutted from the rest of her body, this could only ensure modesty if she used two arms, one to hold the towel together, one to ensure the towel didn't move around too much at the bottom end, which would threaten to reveal everything she had below the waist.

The idea made her blush.

Charlotte, her face going a delightful pink, had been instantly prepared to greet Mr Capra and apologise profusely for her lack of clothes. She began to say hello, to begin the process, when her eyes found the little crowd standing behind her manager, eagerly staring at her, most grinning, a couple now waving, and one frantically fiddling with a camera. (Charlotte resisted her brief and automatic impulse to politely wave back.)

She stopped speaking mid-word, and her mouth fell open. One arm holding the towel together behind her, she raised her other arm and simply pointed at the people standing behind the smiling Mr Capra, as if he might not have known they were there. Because of course he can't have known they were there. It literally never occurred to Charlotte that he could possibly have known a crowd of young Asian men were getting free entertainment in the form of her barely-towel-wrapped body.

Charlotte wasn't thinking very clearly at this point. By using an arm to point out the unwelcome audience, she had made her cover far less secure, as the bottom of the towel fell further from her legs, hanging down at the distance of her nipples, casting sometimes-not-terribly-dark shadows over the top of her legs and everything above. Or between.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra stood in the open doorway and feasted his delighted gaze on the vision before him. Charlotte’s lovely face had turned a wonderful shade of pink. As she raised her arm to point the towel slipped a little more to reveal that her hot flush extended all the way to her half-exposed breasts.

One nipple peeped almost shyly over the top edge of the soft towel; a beautifully erect nipple, Capra noted with approval. His gaze fastened on the impressive expanse of delightful naked flesh on open view.

It was almost like an erotic dream come to life before him, a wet dream vision enacted for his pleasure and approval; the surprised and embarrassed near-naked young woman, and the added bonus of the crowd of eager wide-eyed ogling tourists behind him.

Even as he hesitated there he heard the unmistakable click of camera shutters recording Charlotte’s misfortune.

“I’ve brought the uniform they want you to wear,” he said, delaying for as long as reasonably possible, the moment when he would finally have to acknowledge the crowd at his back and close the door.

He saw, too, how the treacherous towel had betrayed the poor young woman, not only slipping at the top so that her huge breasts were partly exposed, but also allowing everyone present a clear unobstructed view of her soft upper thighs and the inviting shadows that just barely concealed her cunt.

Moving almost in slow-motion, prolonging the moment, he reached absently for the door handle. Only then did he feign surprise to notice the crowd of neck-craning tourists behind him.

“Hey, guys, what is this? A little privacy here, huh?” he said, still intent on playing his part and letting Charlotte think he was on her side, he finally closed the door.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Mr Capra came to her rescue, closing the door on the disappointed faces of the gawking men, cutting off their view of Charlotte's partial nudity, in particular her nipple like a little red cherries poking over the top of the towel like a prisoner of Charlotte's modesty trying to break free.

Charlotte was mortified that it seemed some of them had taken photos of her standing in a towel. She had no idea she had been exposing a nipple.

Pulling the towel around her without thinking, covering her nipple without realising it was even uncovered, her face still pink with embarrassment, she quickly moved to stand in the bathroom's doorway, and tried to pull herself together.

"Good morning Mr Capra, " she said politely, with almost super-human patience given how much she wanted to have him give her something to wear that very instant.

Trying for maximum security in covering her body from Mr Capra's view, Charlotte used both arms, one holding the towel at her boobs, the other down holding the bottom of the towel over her crotch, effectively making sure that she was full-frontally not nude.

She just let the towel go in back since, well, Mr Capra was in front of her, and no-one was behind.

She could not have been more aware that only this single piece of material was hiding her naked body from Mr Capra. She hoped the same towel had been covering her well enough when Mr Capra had walked into the hotel room to find her bending over rooting in her suitcase, but she forced the thought out of her head with a gulp.

She had forgotten, of course, about the full-length mirror in the bathroom, directly behind her. The steam having dissipated, the mirror reflected everything, from her naked feet to her long smooth legs to her perfect round ass and further upward past her slim waist, flawless back, and the back of her head.

As she nervously shifted her weight from her left to her right foot and back again, it was like her ass cheeks were doing a little dance in the reflection, teasing without ever following through on the possibility of Charlotte moving her legs apart enough, or bending over enough, to reveal what was hidden between those delicious cheeks.

"So…you have the uniform?"

 

[adamzapple]

Capra was still smiling from his warm “Hello” to Charlotte as he turned from the door, “Those guys,” he said, shaking his head, “you’d think they’d have a little more respect for a persons privacy.”

He managed to inject a hint of moral outrage into his words for Charlotte’s benefit but even as he spoke his eyes - which missed nothing when it came to stealing inadvertently exposed glimpses of young, nubile flesh - had already observed Charlotte’s naked rear-view reflection in the mirror.

It was a voyeur’s dream and Capra was a voyeur of the first order. His natural charm, plus the ability to conceal the true, deviant nature of his thoughts, was one of the reasons for Capra’s success as a publicist; to his clients he was invariably good natured, and it never occurred to anyone that he could possibly harbour sneaky ulterior motives for his actions.

But, sneaky, he was. His scruples were non-existent, there was no form of deceit so low and immoral that he wouldn’t stoop to it if the occasion demanded. And looking at Charlotte’s pink, beautifully shaped ass-cheeks as they jiggled fetchingly in the mirror, and Charlotte herself, blissfully unaware of the delectable view she was revealing, was definitely one of those occasions.

The breakfast trolley still stood near where Charlotte was innocently displaying her charms in the open bathroom doorway, and Capra, being the sort of man he was, seeing the coffee pot on the trolley still gently steaming, thought quickly.

Poor kid, he thought, taking in her innocent, trusting expression: he ought to be ashamed. But he wasn’t, not in the least. If Charlotte’s juicy cunt was anything like as mouth-watering as the rest of her oh-so-fuckable body he determined it was definitely worth taking the opportunity to try and catch a glimpse of it.

“Hey, coffee,” he said, pretending to notice the breakfast trolley for the first time. “You know, I’ve been so busy making phone calls for today I haven’t had a chance to grab any. I’m just about parched...”

In his deviant mind he pictured Charlotte obligingly pouring him a coffee, innocently unaware that while bending slightly at the waist she’d be flashing him a tantalising glimpse of the beautiful juice-maker between her legs.

Also, there was the added attraction of watching her struggle to hold the towel in place at the front. It seemed to Capra it was pretty much a win-win situation whatever happened.

Rubbing his hands together, Capra smiled, then took the parcel from under his arm. “How about pouring me a cup, would you?” he said, “I’ll just unpack this uniform and shake out the creases.”

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte's anxiety was written all over her face.

She had wanted Mr Capra to hand her a uniform so she could close the bathroom door and put it on, finally covering herself in a decent way.

Now it looked like Mr Capra was going to take who-knew-how-long to be able to give it to her, leaving her with just this - from her point-of-view nowhere near large enough - towel to try to cover herself!

But of course, she realised, Mr Capra thought of her as just a client, maybe a friend, certainly not as a sex-object, he had no desire to see her naked body and so thought it didn't matter if she had to wait in a towel for a little while.

But he was wrong!

Worse, it seemed, he didn't realise how inadequate the towel was as cover, and so politely asked her to get him a cup of coffee.

After everything he had done to help her, everything he was doing, she of course had to do as he asked. Didn't she? Of course she did…

All of these thoughts shot through her mind in seconds, as she stood uncomfortably int he bathroom doorway, utterly unaware that her amazing bottom was perfectly reflected in the mirror behind her.

(When he had first told Max Capra about Charlotte, the custodian had talked about this feature of her body, commenting that "you will notice her tits, everyone does, of course, but I tell you when I finally got a look at her, that ass is just phenomenal!")

She hesitated before moving toward the trolley, ironically not wanting to inadvertently expose herself.

Her anxiety was affecting her breathing, her firm boobs rising and falling somewhat as a consequence, nipples threatening to pop out again without doing so.

Though he was broadly facing her way, Mr Capra's eyes appeared to be on the package he had brought with him. So Charlotte took her eyes off him, and awkwardly shifted her hands, so that she was using one to hold the towel together in front while freeing her other arm to try to get Mr Capra his coffee.

"You can do this" she whispered to herself, and reached out for the pot.

She poured coffee into a cup and put the pot down. She picked up the cup and slowly turned toward where Mr Capra was sitting, before slowly walking in his direction.

Charlotte was intently focussed on not spilling any of Mr Capra's coffee, while holding the towel tightly together with one hand.

As she got closer to Mr Capra, it happened, a miracle, like the parting of the Red Sea, the edges of her towels, moving as she walked, started to separate in front of her, each step opening them in a triangle of exposure getting higher and higher between her long smooth legs until it happened - her towel falling open enough to provide her no cover at all over her pussy!

A triangle of pubic hair above her slit hid nothing at all as, totally clueless, believing her towel was protecting her modesty, Charlotte stood before a sitting Mr Capra, holding out a coffee cup, her cunt right in front of his eyes, an unplundered and until now virtually unseen treasure, displayed before him for the first time.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra, naturally, was watching with a true voyeurs eagle eye, the slow reveal as Charlotte’s inadequate towel betrayed her. First her delicious upper thighs; and he smiled and nodded as he pretended to be absorbed by unpacking the uniform.

Then, the widening split rose higher to show a breathtaking peek of the inviting vee between her thighs. Then, finally, unknown to Charlotte, the towel gaped entirely so that for all the time it took for her to carry over his coffee, her sweet virgin pussy was in clear, open view.

Capra took the proferred cup, and like the true professional that he was, betrayed not the least flicker of expression that might give away the true object of his gaze.

Charlotte’s cunt was so close he could almost catch her intimate feminine aroma in the air. She was so close he could see in shadow the soft, pouting lips between her legs as she paused before him. He could see close-up the delicate curls of the innocent young woman’s soft pubic hair.

Fortunately, he had the packaging in his lap that concealed the raging erection that had suddenly sprung up to make a tent in his trousers.

Above the hand that ineffectually clutched the towel he saw how deep and inviting her cleavage was, how the clutched towel pushed up and emphasised the fullness of her huge, round breasts.

Capra felt as if he had died and gone to heaven.

Deliberately refraining to accept the coffee cup, without actually appearing to do so, Capra took his time shaking out the creases from the skimpy uniform.

Then, “Charlotte,” he said, determined to prolong this revealing moment for as long as possible, “we haven’t had much time to talk, why don’t you tell me how it feels to be a new-found celebrity?”

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte had no idea her snatch was hovering right in front of Mr Capra's eyes, so close he could make out a tiny freckle just above and to the left of the top of her pussy lips. (Her boobs stood too far out from her chest, making it more difficult for her to see what was lower down.)

As a result, though uncomfortable being in merely a towel in front of him, she nonetheless stood there holding his coffee, waiting for him to take it, and having a conversation.

Charlotte would have been mortified if she had noticed, the shriek would have been heard on other floors, if she didn't faint. But she remained clueless.

She talked innocently about how she didn't think she was really a celebrity, how she wanted to do good things, how grateful she was for all of these opportunities, how grateful she was to Mr Capra - and all the while her cunt was exposed.

As the conversation continued and she started to be less anxious about being there in just a towel, she relaxed and, with no idea she was doing it, stood more casually. Which is to say, stood with her feet another foot apart.

More exposed than ever, all of her pussy lips visible, she chatted away and held out the coffee cup for whenever Mr Capra was willing to take it.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra smiled gently as he listened to Charlotte’s voice. To all outward appearances he was an interested party politely listening to her words, in reality, every few seconds, he stole another lust-filled glance at her crotch.

He could see the fan pattern of her delicate pubic hairs and the way they glistened softly here and there as the sunlight touched them. Lower still, in the intimate place between her firm young thighs, he could see her soft, inviting opening.

He wondered if he was the first man to have ever seen her cunt, and to see it inadvertently displayed for him by the innocent young woman still completely unaware of the glimpse of paradise that she was revealing to him, made the moment all the more arousing and erotic.

Sensing another opportunity that might allow him the chance to see even more, he finally made a move to take the coffee cup from her.

“Here, let me take that,” he said, reaching for the coffee with his right hand, while, at the same time he offered her the uniform with his left, “Here Charlotte, you take this,” he said.

But then, he deliberately let the uniform slip from his hand; he knew Charlotte couldn’t move the hand that was holding the coffee to catch the uniform, the only thing she might possibly do was make a sudden grab with her other hand, the hand which just happened to be holding the towel together.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

It all happened so fast, and yet as if in slow motion. Mr Capra reached out his hand for the coffee cup Charlotte was holding for him. And then almost at the same time he held out the uniform Charlotte was to wear at the opening, and she felt a rush of relief that she could shortly be properly dressed - covered by something more than a towel hardly designed for someone with Charlotte's upper body dimensions.

That was when disaster struck, at least from Charlotte's point of view. Mr Capra accidentally dropped the uniform, and since one of her hands was occupied with the coffee, she automatically grabbed for the falling uniform with the only other hand available - the one holding her towel together!

The towel followed the law of gravity, tumbling down toward the carpet and leaving ever-more of Charlotte's awe-inspiring body exposed directly in front of Mr Capra.

Her breasts came into view. This wasn't some nipple peeking over the top of a towel - this was as full a revelation of her amazing tits as anyone could imagine, not merely huge and firm but perfectly proportioned, mouth-watering scoops of flesh which, unlike Charlotte's towel, seemed to defy gravity.

As the towel hit the carpet on top of the uniform she had been trying to grab, she was left standing, still holding a cup of coffee, as full-frontally nude as any pervert could wish, still standing with her feet enough apart to give a truly thorough view of her cunt.

Her eyes had snapped wide open in surprise and her face was instantly reddening, a deer-frozen-in-the-headlights failure to move - if that failure had begun with a loud 'EEK!' squeal.

With one arm stuck holding the coffee, Charlotte had only one arm available and it simply could not cover everything she wanted covered, and wanted covered right now! Her hand went down over her pussy, and then back up to try to cover her boobs - only so much of which her arm was able to cover - and then back again to try to cover her snatch and one of her tits.

Charlotte began to babble apologies to Mr Capra while holding the coffee cup out to him, her face a portrait of humiliated desperation, and proof that a surprisingly large part of the body can go pinker if someone is sufficiently embarrassed.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra had wanted an eyeful of the delectable charms of Charlotte Meek and now he was getting it.

The mortified girl had dropped the towel and now she was trying to do the impossible; to cover herself with one hand, it wasn’t going to happen.

She gasped, then staggered. Her face turned a lovely shade of embarrassed pink, in fact, her whole naked body, seemed suffused with a delicate shade of shame-pink.

Her hips swayed, her legs jerked as she did a little kind of impromptu dance right before Capra’s eager gaze. She tried to hide her cunt, but then she seemed to realise that left her melon-like breasts exposed.

She raised her arm but that left her cunt uncovered again. She twitched all over as if some kind of electrical current was suddenly causing her limbs to spasm. And every time she twitched her heavy breasts jiggled and swayed with a kind of hypnotising, ponderous motion, all their own.

Feigning shock and sympathy, Capra finally relieved her of the coffee cup, although, by now, two thirds of its contents had been spilt on the carpet.

“Sorry, my fault, totally my fault,” he said, getting up from the chair, and at the same time, picking up the fallen uniform.

He could have grabbed the towel and passed it to her, that would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, but unfortunately for Charlotte, Capra’s sleazy mind was still firing on all deviant cylinders.

The uniform was so so small and skimpy it simply wasn’t going to be any use at all to Charlotte as something to hide behind.

“Here, sweetheart, grab this,” he said, “I’m truly sorry. Take this and run on into the bathroom to put it on,” he added, fully aware that he’d get another good view of Charlotte as she turned and fled across the sunlit room.

 

[AngelaSaxon]

Charlotte grabbed the uniform being held out to her, making a small involuntary squeak originally intended to be the word 'thanks' in the process. Her dismay was absurdly audible.

Though she didn't see it, a drop of water she had not noticed had just begun to hang from the point of her cherry-like left nipple, and this movement caused it to fall, splashing on the carpet.

Charlotte quickly turned toward the bathroom, literally breathless with her urgent need to be somewhere out of sight, somewhere she could address her current total nudity.

Unfortunately, as least for her, this immediately exposed one of the world's most perfect rumps to the eyes of Mr Capra. As with the rest of her body, her butt was still somewhat wet from her shower, a few drops of water visible on her smooth skin.

Even more unfortunately, again at least for Charlotte, in her panicked state of extreme embarrassment, Charlotte was somewhat less than coordinated, and dropped the uniform on the carpet again before she had even fully turned to face the bathroom.

Moving fast, not thinking for the first second about what position this would put her in, Charlotte bent over to retrieve the fallen clothes. Her bubble butt pointed back at Mr Capra, her pussy lips visible between her smooth, round cheeks, indeed both of her virgin holes mortifyingly exposed for as long as it took for Charlotte to fumble for the clothes, dropping them again in her haste, picking them up once more and finally standing up straight and trotting to the bathroom, her spare arm behind her making useless and comical efforts to hide her ass.

There was a moment, just before Charlotte stood up properly again, in which she paused. Even with her facing away, it was possible to guess that this was the horrifying moment when she realised she had been bending over in a way which exposed her hitherto most private places to the eyes of her new benefactor. The realisation dawning in a way as to disrupt her normal functioning, leaving her for extra seconds in precisely the position that so horrified Charlotte, before she managed to pull herself together enough to stand.

As she hastened into the bathroom, the full-frontal reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror showed her biting her lower lip, an endearing little part of her overall image - that of the hottest and most embarrassed girl one could imagine, boobs bouncing freely, putting on their own little performance before Charlotte brought the show to an abrupt end, quickly closing the bathroom door behind her.

For a moment she had felt close to fainting, but now she leaned back on the door, still naked but alone, and breathed a sigh, though not quite of relief since she was still humiliatingly aware of the display she had just put on.

What must Mr Capra think of her?! Looking straight ahead, she could see her reflection in the bathroom's floor to ceiling mirror, her eyes going wide as she realised just how much Mr Capra must have seen. As much as she was sure he would have tried to avert his eyes, she had no doubt he must have seen…everything.

Everything!

She closed her eyes, trying to put this, everything, out of her mind, at least enough to be able to think and act more calmly.

When she opened her eyes after a moment, Charlotte looked down at the uniform she was holding in her hands.

She held it up to get a better look.

Her eyes once again went wide. Did Mr Capra SEE this? This was tiny!

After what had just happened, the last thing she wanted to do was complain. She felt like she had already humiliated herself in front of Mr Capra, and she didn't want to give him any other reasons to think less of her.

But this was…well, she had never worn anything like this!

She took a deep breath and told herself she would have to do it. She would somehow go through this event wearing this uniform. If everyone there wore this, well, it must be acceptable to them at least…

She was hardly sure. Maybe there had been some kind of mistake. But she could not face the prospect of trying to complain, to object. She had nothing else to wear!

The idea of staying nude and asking Mr Capra if she could wear something else, having him bring it to her in the bathroom, perhaps - it all seemed just to add yet more embarrassment to what had already been a horrifyingly exposing situation.

Charlotte started to put on the uniform.

It was then that she realised Mr Capra had forgotten to include any underwear…or perhaps, reasonably enough, had assumed she would take care of that…but in either case in all of the chaos she was now stuck in the bathroom with only the uniform and nothing at all to wear underneath it!

She stood, frozen, for almost a full minute before convincing herself that she would put the uniform on as is, and then walk out of the bathroom and quickly find some underwear to put on, before they had to go to the opening.

She would have to be fast, and also careful. She couldn't face the idea of Mr Capra knowing she had nothing on under this uniform. If at all possible, she would avoid adding that embarrassment to her already long list of embarrassing incidents.

No, she would keep this to herself. And hopefully be able to solve this problem. Yes, that was the plan. It would all be ok.

 

[adamzapple]

Capra gazed with undisguised delight as Charlotte scampered away naked. Once again the god of deviant pursuits smiled down upon him, and he was treated to a beautiful, unhindered view of her inadvertently exposed cunt and ass hole as she hurriedly stooped to retrieve the fallen uniform.

Even when she was gone and the door was closed, the image remained fixed firmly in his mind; her perfect ass cheeks jiggling so bewitchingly, then the awesome moment when she actually bent over before him, exposing everything to his eager, very appreciative gaze.

Like the true lecherous deviant that he was, he replayed the moment over and over again in his mind, seeing everything the poor, innocent girl had to show, the subtle shadows between her ass cheeks, the shy dark eye of her ass hole, and her delicious, plump, cunt lips. It was voyeurs heaven, the stuff wet dreams are made from.

And if things were proceeding the way he had engineered them, most of the tabloid reading population of the country, the dirty old men and the horny young guys, were probably turning their sordid attention in Charlotte’s direction; the photographs taken yesterday were already in print and in circulation. Capra had an assortment of them - hot off the press - in his car downstairs.

Even now, hundreds of men were probably stroking their morning wood to yesterday’s pictures of Charlotte’s tits squeezed up against the glass partition of the revolving door. And those guys, he thought, those guys are in for a real treat; the best was yet to come.

As he waited, with not a little sense of anticipation, for Charlotte to make her debut appearance in the tight, skimpy uniform he’d given her, he thought again of the conversation he’d had with the curator of the convent school.

“One thing I gotta tell you,” Johnson had revealed, “ she faints, you know? Just goes out like a light. Ten, fifteen minutes at the most, something happens, maybe it’s nerves, shame, embarrassment. I never saw nothing like it, kind of an emotional overload, and out she goes...”

Johnson had stopped talking then and smiled, reminiscently, with a lecherous man-to-man look in his eyes, and Capra didn’t have to be a genius to grasp that Johnson might have taken advantage of such a moment; Charlotte flaked out, vulnerable, unaware of anything that might be happening to her. Anything that might be done to her.

The dirty-minded guys who read the tabloids, the morning masturbators who beat off while ogling Charlotte’s charms, and then naturally progressed to more obscene fantasies, men being what they were, they were in for a treat today. But, if things worked out and Charlotte had one of her fainting spells, Capra too would be getting an extra special kind of treat.

He’d half expected it to happen then, a few moments before, but there was still time; Charlotte had yet to discover just how skimpy and figure-hugging the uniform was... And if it did happen, Capra had a few ideas of how to spend a heaven-sent gift of ten or fifteen minutes alone with the poor, unsuspecting girl, as she lay in a faint on the floor.

Smiling, he reached into his pocket to touch the small video camcorder her carried. Whatever might be said about him, he was never a man to turn down the opportunity to indulge his own perverted tastes. And also make a wad of money on the side.