"I need a model."

She looked strangely at David, obviously happy at the opportunity but seeming to doubt herself. "Oh, I... I don't do that kind of work. Sorry if you mistook me." Her brain caught up with her mouth, and she realised she was already halfway to losing her chance. "But you can take all the pictures of me you like! I'll wear anything you-"

"Not that kind of model." David paused, and with a grunt unloaded deep into Michelle. He stood up off her while "accidentally" pressing a foot firmly down onto her ass in the process. She rose up after she was sure he was done, and stumbled off to her bathroom with cum leaking down one leg and her phone in hand to explain her lateness. He left his pajama pants on the ground, confident he could just come back later to retrieve them, and walked over to the alt girl to take her arm in his. "Good call on the outfits, though. Your wardrobe looks promising for this."

"Oh!" She smiled, taking the situation in stride. "Alright then. What kind of modelling are we doing then?"

David walked out through the door with their arms linked, and she hastened to follow, heels clacking as they marched down the concrete hallway to an elevator. "Simple. I make porncomics for a living, and I'm doing a lesbian scene today. You're going to be one of my models."

Alara shivered on the street outside, again chiding herself for the fact she still hadn't built up enough of a cold resistance to get through the winter unbothered while being fashionable enough to draw the male gaze. She wasn't the only one feeling it, thankfully: all around her were women who'd done their best to strike a balance between sexuality and survival. Some wore long fuzzy coats over bare skin and bare feet, keeping the essentials warm. Others wore full outfits with areas surgically removed to promote male access, holes in their groin and gaps in their chest allowing vulvas and diamond-hard nipples to be visible. And then there were the women who hadn't bothered, walking around naked except for the occasional set of shoes, and yet with the telltale glistening on their skin showing they'd sprung for the expensive beauty products that promised insulation, perfume, and lubrication in a single tiny bottle. She felt a bitter sort of satisfaction that she couldn't see any of the rich ones with their naked bodies having any signs of a recent fucking.

That had always been a pet peeve of hers. She'd been born after the social change had gotten underway, so maybe things had been different in the old days her dad rambled about on their rare video calls. But nowadays, there was this persistent pressure on women from other women to put in effort. To spend and overspend, to never reuse outfits or resources, to always look perfect in a very expensive way. She hated it. And the worst part was, guys didn't even care! In Alara's experience (limited as it may be). They'd just fuck whoever they thought was pretty. In truth, they largely went for whoever had the biggest tits and the nicest hair. That was it.

Mind you, if she really believed that then she would've just walked around naked with her rat's nest up in a ponytail by now out of sheer desperation. But as much as she railed against reality, she knew that money did make a difference on some level.

That, and as always, it was too damn cold to walk around like that in the winter months.

"Contrast..."

The man next to her was muttering. She'd never caught his name, and she wasn't sure if you were supposed to yet at the "prospective fuck-buddies" stage of the relationship. Or at least that's what she hoped it was. She didn't want to assume.

She pressed herself up against him, trying to rub her tits up and down his arm in the process and hoping to god he wasn't feeling the support wire. "Contrast?"

He didn't seem to notice the contact, but at least he also didn't seem to mind the questioning much. "I said I was doing a lesbian scene right? The key to any good scene like that is contrast. You don't just want two identical sluts eating each other out. There needs to be a gap, juxtaposition. You'd never expect these two in the same room, let alone the same bed. That kind of thing."

He gazed out at the crowd around them with a critical eye, like a customer eyeing up cuts of meat in a butcher's shop. The comparison wasn't too far off, the only difference being with the butcher he might have to pay something. Alara had no doubt he could hold a hat in the air and say he'd fuck whoever gave the largest donation, and he'd walk away with drained balls and a five figure income. Still, she did notice his eyes lingering on a few specifically. An older woman sitting waiting for the bus, the only tell of her actual age the peppering of grey hairs in her twin ponytails, dressed in a warm coat that did nothing to hide tits bigger than her head and a curvy figure. A clerk in a nearby grocer's, walking around in the heated interior wearing only an apron that her areola peeked out the side of, the string forming a bow on her ass where the tassels didn't even reach her thighs.

It was as she was lost in thought trying to follow his gaze that she heard a voice. "Alara? Hey! I didn't realise we took the same route!"

She looked up to find Mazie approaching the outside of the apartment building. Mazie was a friend from classes, one of the few Alara had made since moving to the city. Where Alara was small and pale, Mazie was large and tan, somehow avoiding an "unhealthy" level of weight gain while also regularly tearing her jeans or shirt when she bent over, a trick that had scored her more than one fluffing gig during a lecture and one internal cumshot during lunch. She had a round, happy face with a messy mane of blonde hair running down her back, and she'd done her best to squeeze into a tight lycra top and skinny jeans for the day.

She was also looking at the man inquisitively. "And who is this, huh? Did you finally score?"

Mazie had always been not quite up to date with social attitudes towards men. Something about living alone on a farm with an entirely female family. She never showed them the proper respect, or at least the socially acceptable level. Some ignored her, some took the attitude in silence, and some fucked her throat so harshly that she wouldn't think about disrespecting them until she could breathe again.

Alara was never sure how many of Mazie's behaviours were earnest eccentricities and how many were subtle attempts to get dicked down.

She looked worriedly at the man beside her only to see he'd apparently reached a decision. With a hand squeezing her ass absently, he spoke with a smile on his face.

"Found one."