Jen spoke first. “Sorry, Susan. What do others think?” She looked over at me and Tim. “Doesn’t bother me,” I said.“Well, I’m with Doreen...” said Ingrid, quietly unclipping her bra to expose a small pair of breasts with puffy nipples. Jen followed her example, revealing a deliciously freckled bosom with dark brown nipples.“Well… I can see I’m outnumbered!” Susan scoffed. Doreen moved across from her poolside position and stood behind her. “Like me to get them out for you, darlin’?” she giggled as. At least she didn'tmake me go to charm school. So, I became a teenage male mannequin; hero ofthe four-color Sunday paper insert. Don't laugh; it paid my way throughcollege, which was probably the only reason my father tolerated it. Icontinued to model part-time after earning my business degree, but found acorporate job and started a career as a hedge against the day when my faceno longer sold rags. I mean, how many male supermodels, commanding ten-thousand-dollar-a-day fees, can you name? To be. More

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