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Friday, May 21, 2010

Hawaii, or sailing into trouble! Part 1

'Hawaii' said the booker at my agency, 'Nice!' I replied. 'It's yachts she said, 'Ooo, even nicer!' I replied. That's how yours truly was sent almost halfway around the World to the wonderful islands that make up Hawaii. Now I don't know much about boats, but these yachts, were just delicious. Me, I could never afford one, and only know a few who could, but it was nice to get close to something luxurious, even though Mr Abromovich would regard them as a dinghy! Now, I did soon learn something about the marketing of yachts. If you go into WHSmiths and browse the sailing magazines, its pretty common to find pictures of boats being sailed by Richard Geere look-alikes, with a pair of 15 year olds in white bikinis sunning themselves on the front (or is that prow?). Take a look next time. However the more upmarket yachts try for a more subtle approach, as clients wives get to see the brochures, well I say brochure, its more of a very expensively produced coffee table book. These wives can get a bit turned off by teenage eye candy, younger than their own daughters! So makers of this class of product skip the jail-bait sexual imagery, the craft themselves are sexy enough! But even luxury yachts need some human interest, in the guise of us models in matching exclusive sailing fashions. All very Cape Cod

Despite a stopover in Seattle, we girls and the creative crew arrived pretty knackered. As I have written before, we might get to some cracking locations, but its not a holiday. We often get straight into the job, the first morning spent with the make up girls trying to hide the bags under our eyes! And its a challenge for the photographers trying to get us to hold a pose when we are yawning so wide the shot looks like a dentistry manual. The owner of the yacht building company clearly had ancestral roots as a native Hawaiian. But the usual sunny outlook of the Hawaiian people was replaced with the pleasant if taciturn expression of a successful businessman. When he smiled it was genuine, but most of the time gave little of his thoughts away. He rejoiced under the name of George, and clearly was not someone to play poker with. He was no fool, and when he saw our jetlagged band, immediately suggested a little R&R. He arranged for three of his boats to take us out for a trip on the first day. The sky was beautiful, but the sea was quite rough, and a few of our band fell victim to 'mal de mer'. One of the photographers decided to try some action shots, and arranged for my friend Pippa to hold the wheel, legs braced apart, hair streaming in the wind, holding a gaze to the far horizon. The truth was her enigmatic, detached, and faraway expression was simply Pippa's desperation to hang on to the contents of her stomach. The shot looked brilliant and made it to the brochure. Pippa says every time she sees that picture, she feels sick all over again!

In fact the action shots that day looked about the best we took. The creative director, Clive, got very precious because we had not had make up and hair done. With a 'gale' blowing, and stacks of spray about we had a windswept freshness about us. And let's face it, seawater spray and make up do not go together. By the way, another trade secret of the yacht marketing trade: Most 'action' shots are shot in a studio, and the sea added afterwards! The shoot was spread over several days, during which we girls got to wear some stunning clothes. George was ever present, and showed a shrewd understanding of our art, making a number of super suggestions for set-ups. He succeeded in making us look as though we really did know how to sail.

Now, when it comes to modelling clothing, it's necessary to have particular attention to undies. Take a look at women anywhere in fine weather. Nearly always there is an outline of bras and pants, can't be helped with thin fabrics. Even the waistband of a thong might show under a clinging fabric. We models have a secret way to prevent our undies showing, we don't wear any! You must have seen documentaries on the fashion industry, with behind the scenes shots at fashion shows, and photo shoots. The girls are all in the buff, slipping from one garment to the next. That's how former model, now first lady of France, Carla Bruni wears those figure hugging linen shift styles made for her by Chanel. The fabric drapes over the contours of her shoulder blades, and down over the georgeous curves of her bottom. There's is only one way she achieves that perfect look, wear nothing underneath except a slim thong. Notice how she always stands with her shoulders back, it helps to keep her boobs nice and pert.

But I digress. We used the cabins as changing areas, avoiding going on deck in the niddy nuddy. Our photocrews were used to us being unclad, but in consideration of the sailing crew and a desire not to attract half the male population of Hawaii, we needed to be covered when on deck. George kindly provided us all with waterproof sailing gear which was a very practical idea. Actually, George said his sailing crews had seen it all. New customers often went on trial cruises on one of George's boats before buying one. He said it was quite common for the wife or daughters of prospective customers to sunbathe on deck. On one memorable occasion, the very haughty wife of the millionaire prospect was a statuesque blond, straight out of the pages of Vogue. Once they were at sea she waltzed up on deck, dressed only in a bikini bottom, which she peeled off and then lay down in full view of all!. Unfazed, her hubby just carried on listening to George describing the finer points of handling the boat!
On one afternoon, between changes, I was wearing one of the thigh length sailing coats over my birthday suit. While I made my way down the swaying deck, a sudden lurch caused a loss of balance. I reached up and grabbed one of the stays holding the mast. In those few seconds one of the photographers caught the moment. When processed that shot showed me reaching up to grab the stay, with my bottom displayed in all its glory! They framed that picture and gave it to George! Cool as ever, he accepted it politely, and had it hung in what was called the 'Club Room', a cross between a showroom and a very exclusive sailing club bar for entertaining prospective customers.
On the last evening, the final set piece shoot was to be a 'dockside party' scene, with the sun setting over the water. We were togged up in our party gear, looking very Southampton. (Not Hampshire UK, Long Island NY). Wardrobe had decked me out in a classy outfit including a pair of Jimmy Choo high heels, which I was warned to return undamaged. Knowing that the photo shoot 'party' was likely to become a real last-night bun-fight, I took the precaution of taking a 'cardie' and a pair of lovely, soft leather, flat soled pumps that I bought locally for a fraction of what they would have cost at home. Strolling down the dockside, I remembered having left my camera on the boat that we had been using that afternoon. I nipped up the gangplank and crossed the deck towards the cabin. There was this very loud and angry shout from behind me. I turned and saw George, absolutely puce with rage, shouting for me to stand still. Given that this man had always been Mr Cool, I froze immediately. He followed my path looking at the deck as he went. By the time he got to me he was boiling. Then he let me have it with 'both barrels'. I had just broken one of the dockyards cardinal rules, never, ever, to walk on the teak decks with hard soled shoes, or in my case high heels. There were signs everywhere, even on the gangplank. I looked down and could see what he meant. Sure enough right across the deck were neat little dents from my heels. (Houston, we have a problem!).

I had sinned, big time! Rather too late, of course, I stepped out of my shoes. George, was livid, because, he said, the cost of repairing the marks was humungous! Also he had a customer for the boat which was soon to be delivered, and could not sell the boat like this. Oh dog do do!  I told him the agency was insured and that all costs would be covered. That didn't help much. George sternly announced that he was going to speak to the location director. (Oh not good news at all, my dears!). As he crossed to the gangplank, leaving me quaking, George called over his shoulder, "I hope he gives you a tanning". Well dear reader, I took this to mean that he was less concerned that my arms and legs acquired a sensuous shade of brown, than my backside acquiring a bright shade of red!  Now, you know that your favourite girl never misses an opportunity to use her derriere to get out of a spot of bother. This was an awfully big lot of bother. So as he got to the gangplank, I called after him "George, you should be the one doing the tanning". He stopped, turned, and still glaring furiously, came back towards me. Before he said anything, I repeated what I had called out. No reaction, but through clenched teeth he hissed "Are you jerking me around?". I realised he thought that it was a tease. Saying nothing, I reached into my bag and took out one of the pair of pumps. Holding it around the heel section, I slapped the palm of the other hand with the leather sole. No reaction. I turned slightly and made to spank my rump with the sole of the shoe. George raised an eyebrow. (Houston, we have lift off!).

From that moment George took control and led me down into the cabin. He sat on one of the side bench seats and I obediently lay over his knee. As he took a hold across my back, I could feel the excitement of the coming spanking, mixed with the nervous anticipation of submitting to a real punishment. His hand felt very hard and had me squirming, letting out gasps and an involuntary 'Ow!'. I can tell you one thing, I was grateful to be still wearing my skirt and undies! When George finally stopped, I barely had a chance to give myself a rub before he asked for one of the pumps from my bag. Still smarting from the effect of his hand, I passed him the shoe, whereupon he pointed to the chart table and told me to bend over it. Well, this was one of those times that yours truly did exactly as she was told, with no argument.

Now to my complete astonishment, he lifted my skirt, folding it over my back. I was wearing satin french knickers, and in a second he pulled them down, and they fluttered sensuously against my legs to settle in a silken heap at my ankles. Dear reader, you will know that this situation is very special to me. The moment when my botty is completely bare, and about to experience the effect of some real discipline, a buzz goes through me. Again, there was the added anxiety of this being a strict punishment, of which my bottom was already only too aware! Shortly the cabin resounded to the sound of leather being applied to naked flesh, with my audible response to the stinging of each one. Eventually George was satisfied that my punishment was over, and I was permitted to straighten up. When I turned he appeared to have regained his usual composure, and slipping on his jacket, turned to leave, saying he hoped to see me at the party. My precious derriere was very tender indeed, and I was even careful pulling up my silk knickers. I restored my make up and headed back to join the others at the after-shoot party. Dear reader, you will not be surprised to hear that I now remembered to carry my high heeled shoes across the deck!

When I arrived at the party, I was greeted by George, as urbane and charming as ever, just as if we had met for the first time that evening. Sarah asked if I had been running, as my face looked flushed. I replied that it was not half as flushed as my backside. (You will know from my earlier blogs that Sarah is a fellow spankee). She flashed a broad grin, and asked who, where, and why. I replied, George, the boat cabin, and walking on deck in high heels. "Oh, Henry! That's mega naughty" she said, now looking concerned, "What was it like?". "Very effective" I replied,"I have learned my lesson on that one!" Sarah grinning again, pointed down. "is that why you are still carrying your high heels?" She was right, they were still in my hand, then suddenly, we both burst out laughing!  The next day everything was packed up and the rest of the girls and location crew headed for the airport. As is often the case, I had done a deal with the hotel to stay on a few days, just so I could see more of the place. I heard a friend was doing a shoot over at Pearl Harbor, and after calling her, decided to head over there.        

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