Feet Model Novels & Stories

"Right…well… These models are missing something. Fun. I don't know about you, but when I go out for the night, that's what I'm looking for." I watched as a new model made her way onto the set. She was tall and gorgeous. Her legs stretched on for miles and she had beautiful bronze skin. Her hair was long and had a lot of volume. She wore a lengthy tight black dress. "Shawn, stay with me." I ordered. He nodded, camera in hand, ready for any direction I was getting ready to give. I was sure to raise my voice so I'd be heard from the other side of the room. I approached the model in the spotlight. "May I?" She nodded her head, understanding that I was going to coach her. "I always dress to impre

She literally took his breath away. She wasn't the classic model figure, with straight hair and long legs. No, Shea Prescott was a tiny package, he guessed barely five foot three, with voluptuous curves that he wanted to run his hands over and deep blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean in summer. The connection between them was unexpected and instantaneous.

"Break, why? The light is just starting to change in our favor. You were right, sunset will be more beautiful." At this rate, I feared I wouldn't make it to sunset. I hobbled over to a nearby bench while he was distracted. I took off my shoes, wincing slightly at the pain. Vanity got the best of me today. I wore very low heels, perfectly functional for a normal day around the house, but I was quickly realizing this house would be anything but normal. I hadn't planned on being on my feet for this long. At least, not at one time. I lifted one of my aching feet to my knee and began massaging it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Now I sympathized with models. How did they do it? I was dy

"You are always here to advice me, ma'am. Maybe I know your name? By the way, I am Sophie Laurens." "S-Sophie?" She looked surprised. I nodded. "Yes, how about you, ma'am?" "Sophie, my name is Felestine." "It's so nice to meet you again, Miss Felestine. As you can see, I'm a new model here. May I know what work are you doing here too if you don't mind? Are you a model too?" She laughed. Even her laugh sounded so beautiful. "I am too old to do that now. Oh by the way, I have to go now, Sophie." She stood up so I stood up too. "I'll just see you around, okay?"

Fiona groaned, thrusting her phone inches from my nose. Fiona was the resident dreamer. She didn't just walk; she strutted as if a camera shutter was constantly clicking in her peripheral vision. She was tall, lithe, and had a bone structure that seemed designed specifically to catch shadows. Her dream was to be a high-fashion model, and she spent most of our lunch breaks practicing "the smolder." "It’s perfect, Fi," I laughed, pushing the phone back. "You look like you’re about to sell a million-dollar perfume to people who can’t afford it."

A faint smile was painted on her lips. The woman's name was Faye Marielle. A famous top model whose beauty is beyond doubt. He finished doing treatment and spa to maintain the health of her skin. Being a public figure who is required to maintain the beauty of the face and skin all over Faye's body, this international model has to take the time to take care of her body's beauty assets.

When she's not busy with work, she takes part in a photoshoot so that she can send it to the modeling agencies. Beatrice didn't even pursue that before because her parents made her take over their company. That's why I'm happy now that she's finally doing what she wants. Beatrice stands five feet and eight inches tall. She has a body to die for and is ideal for modeling. Not to mention the perfect symmetry of her face. "You mean you're leaving and going to Germany? They sat down again. "Yeah. Next month." Sadness filled my heart, and so did Beatrice. You can see the sadness on her face.

She picked up a piece of cake and stuffed it into her mouth. "...Hey, are you kidding me? Why did you come to me? Mr. Jones, I am a designer, not a model agent. Where can I find you a car model? A commission of 2,000 dollars per hour? Please, even if you give me 20,000 dollars, I might not be able to find a tall, slim, and beautiful woman, right?"

"Good. Now I'm going to test your skills today. I couldn't do it yesterday because I had some work outside the company. I'm sure Gina showed you all you need to know." Oh of course she did. If cleaning mannequins and mopping floors was included. "Okay here's what you're going to do." She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of a model, dressed in a crazily-ripped bodycon jumpsuit. I assessed the picture for a few minutes. I could tell instantly that the jumpsuit was made from a soft, stretching fabric, which gave it the impression of a second skin on the model's body. I looked at the shoes next. Four inches stiletto heels, black and glossy. The look was completely chic.

They always depicted the good life you could have if you bought that particular car. One picture in the brochure depicted some friends out in the countryside. The girls looked glowing with pink cheeks because of the cold, and of course, they seemed incredibly healthy for having walked across the pub's car park. The models were all gorgeous, and one girl was teamed with an exceptional looking guy. She was wearing jeans and stripey socks sticking over the top of a pair of flat boots. Roni had poured over that photograph. The had girl looked so wonderful that she had nipped out the next day and bought a pair of boots exactly like them and a similar pair of socks. Unfortunately, she wasn't model