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Over the next six month, the first of the month, there was a check in the mail. John explained that this website and then that website used photos of my pussy and/or my breasts. There was more money.

Phil didn't take any pictures of my face; I didn't have to worry about that. And my name was Desiree.

I could have quit my job, but didn't. One day John called. "I have another business proposition for you, if you're interested."

"I'm listening."

"It's better done in person." My heart skipped a beat. My panties were damp. "Unfortunately, I can't get to Charlotte. Phil will fly in next week; she'll explain the details."

I could not have been more dejected. It would be strictly business or so I thought.

Phil stayed at a discreet, remote hotel on a lake not far from Charlotte. I'd never heard of it; the hotel, not the lake. She sent me directions. We met in her suite. "Julie, in a few countries, some I'd never heard of, there are companies which publish magazines like ours on-line. They have full page spreads of famous people, using photos in the public domain. Of course, they can't get nudes." ...

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