Charlie Gets a Little

Author's note: I hope to develop a few more stories around these characters. Being new at this game, I am in hopes that some of you readers will take the time to comment and to rate my submissions so that, hopefully, I will get better at it. Thanks in advance!

*****

For openers, Charles William "Charlie" Wentworth was about as black as a man could be.

By way of background, his father was a CPA who had worked for a large accounting firm, then opened his own small shop, and grown it into a very successful business.

His father had always encouraged whatever his children chose to do and instilled in them a sense that they could be or do whatever they set their minds and their efforts to.

Charlie began shooting pictures at the age of about twelve when he was given a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye camera that had belonged to his uncle, who had recently passed away.

It became immediately apparent that he had an innate artistic talent; his photographs were always different from other people's efforts, in a good way.

Following a hitch in the Marines he got a job as an assistant to a good, but not great photographer and then moved to a slightly better studio and finally as assistant to a world renown photographer, Richard Richards, or Mr. Dick as he liked to be known.

Charlie continued to shoot pictures on his own, grew, matured as a photographer, and even wrangled a show at a small uptown gallery, but nothing much ever came of it. He was, however developing a better and better portfolio of photographs.

One day Mr. Dick called him into his office, sat him down and said, "Charles have you ever considered that you may be wasting your time working as my assistant?"

"I never considered one minute of working with you wasted, Mr. Richards," he said, and he meant it.

"Well that's very nice, but have you ever thought of what you would like to be, or what you would like to do in the future?"

"That's easy, I want to be you."

"Very flattering, but you do realize, of course, that I'm gay."

"I don't mean I want to be exactly like you, but I would like to be as well thought of and admired in the business as you are."

"Aren't you sweet?" He said, obviously pleased.

"Here's what I would like to do:" he continued. "I'm going to take you around with me to meet some of the editors and art directors that I work with and have you shoot a few of my smaller jobs. It will give you a chance to get your feet wet. There are a couple of people who owe me favors and I'm sure they'll be willing to go along with the idea."

"Oh, Mr. Richards that would be incredible!"

When the day came for Charlie to leave the nest for the first time he was a bit nervous, since Mr. Dick was in the background chatting with the AD, but he knew he was watching his every move. He felt it went well, however and the AD was very pleased with the pictures, which is all that really mattered.

The next day the Maestro called Charlie in to critique his performance.

"Well, you did a good job m'boy. You may have shot more pictures than I would have, but as long as the magazine pays the extra cost for the model's time, there is no harm in being sure you got it. Nice job!"

And so it was that Charlie got his first credit line in a major fashion magazine. He still has the spread framed and hanging over his desk.

After he had successfully completed a couple of more assignments, one of them completely unsupervised, Mr. Dick outlined the next step.

"I think you need to have a gallery showing of your work." he said.

"Actually I did have a show at Montage de Photographies about 6 months or so ago. I didn't get much exposure out of that. By my count about 3 people saw it."

'Well I think we can fix that." He said. "First of all, we'll have it at my gallery: Poulailler galerie d'art and we'll make sure it gets publicized properly."

"Wow, you mean someone might actually see my stuff?"

"Not just people, but the right people!"

When Charlie opened his own studio, with Mr. Dick's blessing and encouragement he was successful from the very start. He did editorial work for the fashion magazines for a credit line and for the exposure and advertising work for major agencies to pay the bills.

Clients and models alike seemed to like him, and his work.

*****

Fast forward to the present: The scene is Charlie's studio in a converted warehouse, where the crew had just finished a shoot for a major fashion magazine, whose Art Director, one of his more difficult clients, had been mercifully absent from the set.

The shoot had gone very well and Charlie had retreated to his office to sort through the day's work, away from the hubbub and confusion which inevitably accompanied the wrapping up of a shoot.

He had nearly finished sorting through the photographs when there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in."

Ursula Johannessen who was, without a doubt, one of the chief reasons the shoot had been so successful, stuck her head in the door.

"I wanted to thank you for booking me and to see if you would join me for a cup of coffee somewhere, but if you're busy..."

"No, no, I would love to, there's a little café right down the block. John can tell you where it is. I want to finish this and I'll be right with you. Five minutes, max."

"See you then."

Charlie was thrilled. He had a strict rule about not dating models he worked with, in order to avoid even the appearance of favoritism or impropriety, but Ursula was so good and so beautiful, how could anyone think he hired her for any reason other than her talent? Moreover, more to the point, how could he resist an invitation to join her for coffee?

He burned a copy of the photos to a CD, slipped it in a CD sleeve and headed out, stopping by to tell John where he was going.

"When Ms. Johannessen asked for directions, I figured as much, boss." He said, winking at him.

"It's business, John, strictly business."

"Your story, boss. You know you're always right."

God but he loved that kid.

*****

Charlie found Ursula at a corner booth.

He had no more than ordered a latte when Johnny approached their booth, breathless and said, "You'd better get back to the studio, pronto. Mr. Forrester is there and he is hoppin' mad!"

"Oh is he? Well here's what I want you to do John: You walk, and I mean it, WALK back to the studio and tell Mr. Forrester that I will be there as soon as I finish here. Okay?"

After John had left, Ursula said, "If he's really as angry as John says, aren't you afraid Forrester will never give you another job?"

"Not really. I figure he needs me more than I need him and anyway he's almost more trouble than he's worth. If his magazine wasn't such good exposure, I'd have dumped him long ago. A good art director would have been there for the shoot."

"Well, I guess you know best."

She then reached across the table and touched his hand.

The act nearly put Charlie into a catatonic state.

"I know you have a policy about not dating your models, but I'd like very much to have dinner with you sometime soon."

He managed to regain his composure in time to say. "Oh I'd like that very much."

"Good. My treat."

"That's not necessary I'll be glad..."

"My treat, I insist. Do I have your personal phone number?"

"Umm, I don't know."

"What I mean, silly, is I don't have your personal number. Would you be willing to give it to me?"

Charlie thought to himself, as he fumbled through his wallet, "What an idiot I am!"

He wrote his number on the back of a business card and gave it to her.

She handed him one of her cards. "My personal number is on the back, as well." She smiled that wonderful smile of hers and said, "Now you'd better get back to Mr. Forrester before he explodes."

When he arrived back at the studio Forrester was in a rage, as he knew he would be.

"Well, well, look who's here. It's about time you showed up Wentworth."

"Come into my office, Mr. Forrester and close the door behind you."

Once in the office Forrester began to rant, "If you ever pull shit like that again, I'll..."

Charlie interrupted him, "Shut up Forrester." He said, quietly and calmly.

"I will not I..."

Charlie waved the CDs with the pictures from the day's shoot in his face and said, "Oh yes you will. On this CD I have some photos that will knock your socks off. I'm sorry you weren't here to art direct, as you should have been, but I think we managed pretty well without you."

"I was busy."

"Understandable, but I was sure you would not have wanted to have all that talent standing around on the clock, so I started without you. Did I do the wrong thing?"

"No but..."

"But what? I'm not going to have you coming in here, trying to terrorize my people, to cover for your own inadequacies."

"I just told your boy to go find you and..."

"John Hanson is not my 'boy', he is a valuable part of this creative team and I will not have him disrespected. Understood?"

"Well I..."

"I am perfectly willing to write this whole job off as a sample shoot and absorb the costs out of my own pocket. Now, if you want these photographs, here's what you are going to do:"

"You can't talk to me that way."

"Oh yes I can, I happen to know you are running out of decent photographers who want your assignments, because you're so difficult to work with. If one can overlook your fits of pique I happen to think you do a pretty good job, since you obviously care about what the finished product looks like, but if you ever expect me to work with you again, you best listen, and listen carefully."

Charlie put the CD on the table and continued, "You begin by finding John and apologize to him, then apologize to anyone who may have overheard you. I'm going to turn on the intercom in the studio and listen. If I'm convinced you've done a sincere sounding job of eating humble pie, you can come back in my office and I'll give you the pictures. If not we'll just part company and go our separate ways, your choice. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good, go then."

From what Charlie could tell, listening on the intercom, Forrester did a good job with his apologies and Charlie surrendered the CD and watched him on one of the security cameras as he left the building.

When he was sure he was gone, he decided to see how the clean-up was progressing. He opened the door to his office, stepped out into the studio and was greeted with a round of applause and a series of cheers and whoops from the cast and crew.

"What's that all about?" he said.

"You left the intercom on in your office, boss and you and the asshole were broadcast all over the studio," John informed him.

If Charlie had not been black, he would have been a bright shade of pink.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. I don't want it to ever get back to Mr. Forrester, understood? He's not that bad a guy."

There were murmured assents.

Later, as Charlie sat at the conference table in his office, reviewing the day's shoot again, there was a knock on the door and Heidi Bergmann stuck her head in the door. Heidi was, by every conventional standard, absolutely, flat out, gorgeous.

As a fashion model, she was barely tall enough, at 5' 7", and with breasts that were perhaps too large to fit the concept of a fashion model.

She wore a plain, gray T-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big for her that hung loosely on her body, along with a short, denim skirt. When you are as beautiful as she is you can wear anything and it looks great.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know you were busy."

"No problem, I thought everyone had gone. I was just looking through the pictures from earlier today. Join me, you were terrific, as always" He turned the laptop he was working on toward her as she sat down beside him.

"Has everyone else gone?

"John was the last one out the door. He left with one of the girls."

Charlie grinned. "Oh he did, did he? Which one?"

"Now you know I couldn't tell you that. Ask Johnny if you really have to know."

"No I don't need to know. I just hope he scores."

"Nice talk, mister", she chided, punching him on his arm. "Now let's look at those pictures, you sexist pig!"

They looked at photos for fifteen minutes or so. She complimented him on his work and leaned in toward him just a little closer than necessary, making sure that she "accidentally" brushed his shoulder with one of her firm breasts from time to time, as she pointed to something on the screen.

Then she looked at him with a serious expression on her face. "May I ask you a personal question Charlie?"

"Sure. No guarantee that I'll answer it, but shoot."

"Are you gay?"

He laughed. "No, what gave you that idea?"

"Well, here you are surrounded by beautiful women most of the day and I don't think I've ever seen you try to put the make on a single one."

"I know some photographers do, but I don't want anyone to think I'm booking them because I'm screwing them or, not booking them because they're not putting out. Anyone I hire for a shoot is on the set because I think that they are the best person for the job. I don't have to prey on models or other people that I work with. I have my own circle of friends outside of the business."

"What sorts of people?"

"Oh, most are in the arts in one way or another; a few male models, a few runway models, some graphic artists, some assorted ad agency people, copywriters and such and at least one architect, even a well known photographer, but he specializes in food photography so we don't call on the same art directors or compete directly. They're a pretty open minded bunch and nobody bugs anybody about work."

"Admirable, but let me ask you another question."

"Sure."

"What if a hypothetical, horny model; let's call her 'Heidi' for the sake of this discussion, were to put some moves on you, would that be okay?" She turned toward him and put a hand on his knee. "I mean you couldn't be accused of favoritism and if you never booked her again she could only blame herself."

She squeezed his knee.

He smiled, "Hypothetically Horny Heidi, I love it. Well... I'd have to think about that one."

She squeezed his leg again and moved her hand to the inside of his thigh.

"Uh huh." She moved her hand up his leg. "And how long would you have to think about it?"

She moved her hand higher and, watching a bulge begin to swell in his sweatpants, she was pretty sure he wouldn't be dwelling on the subject for very much longer. Her hand brushed against that bulge and he groaned. When she gently grabbed a handful of his package, it was all over!

"Okay, it makes perfect sense to me!" he said, peeling off his T-shirt.

She stood and did the same, revealing the fact that she had nothing on underneath her sweatshirt. She stepped out of her short skirt and sandals and stood before him completely naked. He admired her beautiful body: her flat belly, her nicely rounded breasts and her small, perky nipples. Between her shapely legs was a neatly trimmed, but full, bush.

She looked as white as he was black.

He had a bit more difficulty getting his pants down because it was necessary for his sweatpants to navigate around a raging hardon.

His cock was long, slender and sticking straight out with a subtle upward curve. It was as black as he was, with a somewhat lighter brown tip and accompanied by a large ball sac.

"You are simply gorgeous." He said, as she raised her arms over her head and turned slowly in front of him for his perusal. He came up behind her and reached around to close his hands over her breasts. She looked down, and the sight of his big, black African hands standing out in stark contrast to her pale white, Aryan skin sent a shiver of excitement through her body.

His hands made her tits seem diminutive by comparison. He gently massaged them and rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until they became hard and she cooed her approval.

She felt his swollen cock pressing against the small of her back. She put her arms on the conference table in front of her, leaned forward and spread her legs a little.

Charlie slid his right hand down across her flat belly and probed her bush in search of her clit. A whimper and a convulsion made him believe he had succeeded. A few more gentle strokes and she expressed her gratitude with a muffled scream. He knew he had struck gold when he felt her full bush turn damp.

"Oh gawd that feels good." She leaned her head back and kissed him, somewhat awkwardly, and then she reached around behind her back and grabbed his cock. "It's been too long since Horny Heidi has felt a hard one between her legs."

"Do you really think you'd want me to stick that in you?"

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, no doubt about it!"

He turned her in his arms and his cock was now pressed against her belly.

She stroked his cock and gently lifted his ball sac. "You've got quite a package there!"

Charlie leaned down and kissed her. Her tongue shot into his mouth and the two of them tongue-wrestled for a bit, both of them becoming more and more aroused.

Everything about him was on a bigger scale and while she loved the sensation of kissing his thick lips and she hoped she would feel them, at some point, on other parts of her anatomy. She began to worry about whether her pussy could accommodate his now rock hard cock. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her behind her knees and effortlessly hoisted her up in his arms. She put her arms around his neck and he began to lower her onto his waiting shaft.

"Be gentle, I'm not sure I can handle that big black cock of yours all at once, Charlie."

"Gentle it is."

He lowered her slowly and when she felt the tip of his cock first come in contact with her wet, wet pussy she gasped again and her eyes got wide as it slipped in her waiting cunt. He lowered her a little more and then he lifted her slowly up and down on his cock, and a long groan of ecstasy followed from both of them. Charlie instantly loved this position; he could use his muscles to balance them out, his hands on her ass, and his cock doing most of the work of holding her up as it penetrated her deeper and deeper.

"Oh gawd, that feels sooooo good."

"You want more?" he asked, "Just tell me if it's too much and I'll stop."

"No, no, give me more of that big, black cock."

She bit her lip and screamed as he slowly lowered her up and down on his now fully engorged cock and she strained to help him.

She wrapped her legs around his big, powerful body and locked her ankles together. "Don't cum yet, I want to suck your cock." She pleaded.

"Too late," he grunted, "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

He quickened the pace and as his body stiffened, she knew he was close to shooting his wad.

She had lost track of how many orgasms she had had by then, but she screamed again as she felt him explode inside her and she experience yet another, in perfect sync with his climax.

She felt him cum hard as he spasmed and jerked in the last throes of their first coupling.

His whole body went limp and he kissed her long and hard as he slid his slippery cock out of her. He set her down, she felt their mingled juices run out of her pussy and down her leg.

Her knees were weak and she clung to him for support while she tried to regain her composure.

"That was great!" she gushed.

"Incredible!" he agreed, breathing heavily.

She reached down and grabbed his now flaccid member and rolled it around in her hand.

She winked at him, licked her fingers and said, "Maybe we should clean up this mess. What are the cleaning people going to think when they see the mess we made?"

"Why would I care what they think?"

"I don't know, but you and I are a mess too. How about a shower? I assume you have one."

"Good idea! I'll lead the way." He helped her to her feet, held her hand and led her through the door to his upstairs apartment, picking up the small overnight/makeup bag she had left outside his office door on the way.