"John Norman - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

Kajira of Gor
John Norman
Chronicles of Counter-Earth Volume 19
1 The Studio
тАЬDo you not see it?тАЭ asked the man.
тАЬYes,тАЭ said the fellow with him.
тАЬIt is incredible,тАЭ said another.
тАЬThe resemblance is truly striking,тАЭ said the second man.
тАЬPlease turn your profile towards us, and lift your chin, Miss Collins,тАЭ said
the first man.
I complied.
I was in a photographerтАЩs studio.
тАЬA little higher, Miss Collins,тАЭ said the first man.
I lifted my chin higher.
тАЬYou may change in here,тАЭ had said the man earlier, indicating a small
dressing room off the studio. I had been handed a pair of clogs, a white silk
blouse and a pair of black shorts.
тАЬNo brassiere or panties,тАЭ he had said.
I had looked at him.
тАЬWe want no lines from them,тАЭ he said.
тАЬOf course,тАЭ I had said.
The shorts were quite short, and, even without the panties, at least a size
too small. The blouse, too, even without the brassiere, was tight.
тАЬPlease tie up the blouse, in front,тАЭ he said. тАЬWe want some midriff.тАЭ
I had complied.
тАЬHigher,тАЭ he had suggested.
I had complied.
I had then been, to my puzzlement, photographed several times, from the
neck up, front view and profile, against a type of chart, on which appeared
various graduated lines, presumably some type of calibrating or measuring
device. The lines, as nearly as I could determine, however, correlated neither
with inches nor centimeters.
тАЬNow, please, step into the sand box,тАЭ he had said.
I had then stepped onto the sand, in the wide, flat box, with the beach
scene projected onto the large screen behind me. Then, for several minutes, the
photographer moving about me, swiftly and professionally, sometimes almost
intimately close, and giving me commands, the camera clicking, I had been
posed in an incredible variety of positions. Men, I had thought, must enjoy
putting a woman thus through her paces. Some of the shots were almost
naughty. I think, too, given the absence of a brassiere and panties, and the
skimpiness and tightness of the shorts, and the tightness of the blouse,
doubtlessly calculated features of my apparel, there would be little doubt in the
minds of the observers as to the lineaments of my figure. I did not object,
however. In fact I rather enjoyed this. I think I am rather pretty.
I was now standing in the sand, my left side facing the men, my chin
lifted. The lights were hot. To my left were the lights, the tangles of cord, the
men. To my right, in contrast, there seemed the lovely, deserted beach.
тАЬShe is pretty,тАЭ said one of the men.
тАЬShe is pretty enough to be a Kajira,тАЭ said one of the men.
тАЬShe will be,тАЭ laughed another.