****** Posing for Frank by Peter Kelsall (kelsall@enta.net) ******
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Posing for Frank


[manhatten.jpg]I learnt about the erotic photography of Frank Wallis from my
son of all people. Paul was studying photography away in Birmingham and brought
home a book of Frank Wallis's photos with him one weekend. If you've never seen
his work before, then I should describe them as black and white pictures of
semi-nude women taken on the streets of New York. To describe them with words,
however, completely fails to convey their powerful eroticism. Paul left the
book behind and I found myself haunted by the pictures. I found it difficult to
put my finger exactly on what I found so erotic about them, perhaps it was the
shiver of excitement I felt that a man had ordered a woman to strip on the
streets of New York then order her to pose for him. Maybe it was also that I
fancied that I looked a little like the woman in many of his photos.

I found out that the name of the model was Sheila Ward. I became so obsessed by
her that I tried to find out everything I could about her and Frank Wallis. I
had reached a stage in my life where both my children had finally left home to
go to college and my husband, Martin was getting more and more involved with
work as he climbed the slippery pole of corporate life. This left me with more
time on my hands than I knew what to do with and a strange kind of emptiness.

Maybe the rest of my story would not have happened if it happened been for the
fact that I spotted a dress in a boutique on one of my regular shopping
expeditions that looked very similar to one (half) worn by Sheila in many of
her poses. Maybe you would argue that subconsciously I had actually been
looking for a dress like that all along. Anyway, breathless with excitement, I
bought the dress and rushed home to try it on. It was perfect; it was so thin
that the shape of my breasts was perfectly visible.

I started to go out during the week when Martin was at work, dressed like her,
just in the dress and a pair of flat gym shoes. The next step was to actually
assume the poses as if I was being photographed. To begin with I only did this
at home; I would imagine Frank was ordering me what to do. Before long, as soon
as I slipped on that dress I would become Sheila. I even trimmed my pubes in
the same way that she had hers. Showing my bum or tits to my imaginary Frank
gave me such an acute sensation between my legs; it was like nothing I had ever
known in all of my sheltered life. Later I found out that Sheila once worked as
a stripper, which goes along way to explaining why she looked so relaxed
'working' in public.

The secret thrill I took from being Sheila posing for Frank was all consuming,
but I wanted more. The obvious next step was to recreate the poses, not just at
home, but in the streets. At first I only had the nerve to show my bottom for
him to photograph. But before long he began to insist that I show more and more
of myself. After a month of this I could casually lift my dress just about
completely off as I walked up a quiet alley or deserted street.

I had always considered myself not only shy but also, I don't know, somehow
unable to do things like this. My sex life was very conventional. I had few
boyfriends until I met my husband, Martin. We married the same year that we met
and we conceived our daughter Amy straight away. Paul was born less than a year
later. Looking after the two of them took all of my time and energy and I'm
ashamed to say I neglected Martin. The upshot of which is that when I was ready
to start enjoying sex again he had become so involved with his career that he
was always too tired to try anything new. Sex was just a way of release for
him, when he needed to relax we 'did' it but otherwise we lived a life of quiet
domesticity.

Since becoming obsessed, because I knew that's what I was, with the pictures I
had more orgasms than the rest of my life put together. I would sit in my car,
even in broad daylight, and play with myself. This was something I had never
done, even as a teenager. But here I was at forty, unable to stop myself if I
wanted too. On these trips out I never wore any thing under my dress, unless it
was for the picture called 'NY Railway station'. For this I had to wear black
hold-ups.

One day I 'posed' for a photo called 'Welcome'. I stood by a 'Welcome' sign as
Sheila and flashed my pussy for my imaginary Wallis. I had to wait ages for a
gap in the traffic but in the end Frank insisted I do it when there was a lorry
coming. There were a couple of lucky men on the road that morning. I ran to my
car and sped off as soon as I had done the deed. That was the first time anyone
had seen me 'posing' and when I pulled into a lay-by a couple of minutes down
the road I was shaking so much that I came as soon as I touched myself.

Later at home I went straight to the bedroom and switched on my computer. When
I had found Frank's material was available on the Internet I had completely
over come my aversion to computers. I now regularly surfed the net looking for
photos similar to Frank's. I found some, but none anywhere near as erotic as
his. Most miss the point and have their model fully nude. These lose all of the
eroticism that his pictures were full of. I had tracked down every bit of info
on him, even interviews with Sheila.

At one site dedicated to Frank I came across a site full of personal adverts.
One in particular caught my eye. It was from a man who was looking for a woman
to do pose for 'Frank Wallis'-type photos. Although my curiosity was piqued I
don't think I would have contacted him until I saw that he lived in Birmingham.
I visited Birmingham frequently when picking up Paul from college and suddenly
realised that I would have an opportunity to visit him without raising any
suspicions. I started to fantasise about a meeting to coincide with picking
Paul up on a Friday or after I took him back on a Sunday afternoon. I had set
up an anonymous Email address so Martin would never know what I was up to. My
alter ego's name was, surprise, surprise, Sheila.

I wrote to the man who called himself 'Peter'. He told me that, like me, he had
a passion for Frank's pictures and he had placed the ad on a whim, not dreaming
that someone would respond. He was very excited about the fact that I called
myself 'Sheila'. We agreed for anonymity's sake not to say too much more about
our lives.

We communicated daily and I would always tell him where and how I had posed.
When I wrote to him or read his notes I would find myself in a high state of
sexual arousal. Initially I didn't tell him what I did in my car that day after
I exposed myself to the lorry drivers, but eventually I let it slip that I had
touched myself. His reply came back immediately; he wanted to know more about
my playing with myself. He asked if I ever thought of him photographing me
doing it and whether I used a dildo!

During the rest of the afternoon I couldn't stop thinking about what he had
asked me. My upbringing had been so sheltered that the thought of sticking
something up myself filled me with absolute revulsion. Revulsion turned to
curiosity and the next morning I found myself lying on my bed with a slim-
necked Coke bottle in my hand. I had just returned from a trip to a small,
unmanned train station where I had posed for 'NY Station'. I was still as high
as a kite especially as Frank had insisted I lift my skirt just as an Intercity
went through. I couldn't help but look at the windows of the train and I know
that at least ten people could have seen my pussy and behind.

Anyway when I got home, ten minutes later I was still hot. I had taken off the
skirt and now I had on just the hold-ups and the tight black top. This was
pushed up over my tits and I fondled them as I slowly slipped the bottle into
my soaking vagina. It didn't feel as nice as Martin's dick but it did exactly
what I wanted it to. When I wanted it to go quicker, it did. If I wanted it
harder it went in harder. When I came I realised I didn't have to stop, so I
carried on until my arm felt weak. I must have fallen asleep with exhaustion
because it was mid afternoon when I woke. I showered quickly and checked my
Email. Peter had written, he apologised for asking intimate questions about my
masturbation habits but it had been my revelations that had made him ask. A
wicked thought came into my head as I read this. I quickly replied telling him
in detail everything I had done that morning. As soon as I had sent it I
regretted it but I realised I that there was nothing I could do any more. It
was time to get Martin's dinner ready, so I put all thoughts of my 'other' life
out of my mind.

As soon as they had both gone to work, the next morning I went on line to see
what Peter might have sent. He thanked me for sharing my inner most thoughts
with him and said he just had to meet me. He gave me a 'very' detailed
description of the shots he wanted to take of me. In some he wanted me
practically naked. He asked if there was any chance we could meet. He mentioned
that the next Friday afternoon would be perfect with him. We had often talked
about it but until then neither of us had actually asked for a 'date'. I
thought about nothing else all day and late afternoon I Emailed him to say that
I wasn't sure, I didn't say no but said that I would think about it over the
coming weekend and let him know on Monday.

I knew already that I had to pick Paul up that afternoon; this fact alone was
enough to convince me that eventually I would meet with Peter. I gave myself
the weekend to talk myself out of it and I almost had when late on Sunday Paul
rang to say he wouldn't need picking up until later on Friday if that was
alright. That was it for me, I even wrote out the Email that evening ready to
send on Monday morning. All I said was that I would meet him on Friday at one;
he just had to say where.

I logged on at midday to see that Peter had replied. He said how much he was
looking forward to meeting me at last. He also asked if he could bring his
camera, for a just a 'normal' photo if I agreed. He told me he would be using a
digital camera so that anything I didn't like I could erase myself. To give me
time to think about it I told him I was just on my way out to pose, but I maybe
I'd imagine it was he. I was already wearing his favourite thin dress. I liked
to practice lifting it over my head as I walked around my home. I didn't get
the same thrill as I did by posing in town but it was good practice. Today I
used this training to create 'Cobbles'. As I walked up an empty alley I lifted
the dress up until all my body except my head was exposed.

I couldn't get home quick enough, first to Email Peter and then use my Coke
bottle. Then I Emailed him again to tell him all about that. In that message I
asked him to once more tell me which poses he would want me to do for him - it
was my way of giving tacit approval to our meeting.

Peter was eloquent with his reply, he mentioned in great detail the shots he
wanted to try. They were all ones I'd done for Frank but the thought of doing
them for Peter made my legs weak. He also said when he had finished on the
computer, he was off to masturbate over Wallis's pictures. Only he would be
thinking of me while he did it. He suggested we meet in a small café and asked
that I dress as Sheila had in 'NY Railway' and to bring a dress to do the other
shots in as well.

I new I would do it but at the same time I was seized by feelings of guilt,
after all I had been married to Martin for over twenty years. Although I had no
intention of doing anything but pose for Peter, some people would agree that it
was so close to being unfaithful as to be actually having sex with him. If what
I was doing was harmless, why was I kept it from my husband? Should I tell him
about what I had been getting up to? In the end I decided I would kind of tell
him what I was planning on Friday. I waited until we were settled in bed that
night before I said as casually as I could that I would be going into
Birmingham before I picked Paul up on Friday. All I got in response was,

"That's nice dear, don't spend too much in the shops will you."

"I'm not going shopping," I ventured

Martin didn't respond; he was too engrossed in his book.

"I'm meeting a man actually and I intend to pose nude for him on the streets of
Birmingham," I only thought those words, I had lost my nerve to say them out
loud. I imagined telling Martin all.

"I shall meet him wearing no underwear and before long he will see my bum. Not
much later he will see my pussy and then my tits as well."

I imagined Martin saying, "That's nice, dear."

"Yes, he is practically a complete stranger but he makes me feel more alive
than you have in years. If he wants to I will even pose with strangers
watching. In fact I want to have people see me. I want them to see how proud I
am of my body. I will pose however he orders me to."

Martin never stirred from reading his book as I looked at him.

In the morning I confided in Peter what I had done and about how Martin's
indifference to me had swept away any misgivings I might have had. I told him
that I was absolutely determined to do what he wanted.

Our Emails continued in a similar vein all week. By Friday morning I was so
hyper I could hardly drive. I decided to leave on the sixty-mile trip at ten.
The journey only takes an hour and a half but I didn't want to be late. As
always happens when you leave early; I got there in just over an hour. I
couldn't eat as I walked around the shops wearing just the thin black top,
short black skirt and black hold-ups. At twelve I slipped into a quiet pub for
something to calm my nerves.

At twelve thirty I stepped into the café dressed exactly how Peter had asked me
too. I collected a coffee from the counter and sat near the back of the shop.
As I drank I examined every man who came in and those who were already seated.

At five to one I had the biggest shock in my life. Large as life my son Paul
opened the door and stepped into the café. I was sitting in a corner so there
was no way I could escape without him seeing me and see me he surely would as
soon as he looked around. I lowered my head and pretended to look in my bag. It
was no use though for when I looked up he was looking straight at me the look
on his face, matched mine perfectly. He was as shocked as I was.

He came over to my table and said, "Mom what are you doing here? I mean you're
early aren't you?"

"Yes dear," I managed to say but he looked at me, expecting more.

"I've been doing some shopping," I lied.

He looked down and his look took in the fact that I was dressed in a way he had
never seen before and there were no shopping bags in sight. I was never good at
lying.

He hesitated, he seemed anxious to leave but then he said, "You don't usually
dress like that, do you mom?"

"No, I felt like a change today, you know how it is, a change is as good..."

"Mom," he said to silence me. "Are you 'Sheila'?"

I felt the colour drain from my face as he said those simple words. We both
knew without a doubt why we were here, Paul was Peter and I was Sheila. My mind
whirled over the Emails we had exchanged, the intimate details about myself I
had revealed. I was the first to crack and, putting my hands to my face in
horror said, "Oh Paul, what must you think of me?"

Paul sat down and put his arm around me, "Mom, don't worry. I feel closer now
to you than I ever have before. I love it that you found the photos as erotic
as I do. I never dreamed that you could do the things you said you did. It
makes you more." he hesitated, "more real to me."

My face coloured as I remembered some of the things I had told this 'complete
stranger.' I couldn't look him in the face as they returned to my mind. I got
up and ran to the loo. The things I had told him, the things I had been
prepared to do for him that afternoon. I locked myself in the cubicle and cried
into my hands. At first it was through sheer embarrassment, but before long I
had to admit that it was also because now all my dreams of posing for a 'real'
Frank had evaporated. He had vanished from my life just as surely as if he'd
been killed. I eventually emerged from the loo to find Paul waiting patiently
at our table.

"Paul," I started to say but he interrupted me.

"Mom, you don't have to say anything. No one else knows what we were planning
and no one ever will from me."

This relaxed me a little and we both smiled at each other at the absurdity of
the situation. I asked him to show me the camera and he dug it out of his bag.
It was a bulky thing, which I thought was awkward to hold. I handed it back to
him and to my surprise he took my picture as I looked across at him. Ten
seconds later he showed me the result on the back of the camera. I was
impressed at the apparent quality and as I looked from it to Paul I could see
that his mind was racing along the same lines as mine was. I lowered the camera
and we held each other's eyes. A smile slowly crept across my face as I saw one
appear on his.

"Are you thinking what I think you are?" I asked him.

"That depends what you think, I'm thinking I suppose." he replied, coyly.

As much as I had wanted to be photographed this afternoon, I surely couldn't
let my son do it and I told him so. He thought about this for a moment before
suggesting that maybe I could pretend that he was Frank and he would imagine I
was Sheila. I pretended to think about this but I already knew I wanted to pose
more than I had wanted anything in years. Could I do it for Paul though?

"You're dressed as I asked you to, aren't you?"

I blushed but nodded. He looked all around him to see whether any one was
close. Then he said two small words, "Show me."

END

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: This story was inspired by the photography of Frank Wallis and
his beautiful model, Sheila Ward. I would also like to thank Sally for her help
with the story.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
You may also want to visit:
    * Sexy_Top_100_Stories
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