The Swimsuit Contest
by Andrew Mason aka Dr. Amazing

This is a work of fiction.  Tombraider and Lara Croft are both trademark and copyright of EIDOS Interactive and Core design.  All other characters are copyright of the author.

            This story contains violent and sexual content and is suggested for mature readers (18 and over).
            Comments, complimentary or critical, can be addressed to: dramazin@alphalink.com.au

            He had set up his lights to shine on the circular altar, which was so brightly decorated she suspected it would shine in the dark.  She studied it when they had descended to the floor level.  It was covered in complex, beautiful runes.  She wished she knew more of the Cadachac language and could make sense of the breathtaking patterns.

            “Are you ready to begin?” asked Chifley, his voice tense and his posture one of weariness.

            Lara ran her hand over the surface of the altar surface, marvelling at its workmanship, then sighed and said, “Time to keep my part of the bargain.”

            She removed her robe and handed it to Jack.  Crombie released a loud groan of desire at the sight of her.  She did her best to ignore him and straightened the strings of her bikini, wishing she had never agreed to this.

            “Where do you want me?”

            “Lean back on the altar,” instructed Chifley, raising his camera to his eye.

            “Lovely,” he said.  “Legs a little further apart.  Good, good.”

            The camera started its clicking.

            “Put your hands back on the altar.  Lean back a little further.  Great!  Legs a little wider.”

            “Wide as you can, love,” interjected Crombie, his expression avid.

            Lara was aghast at the man’s rudeness and was mortified to feel a deep blush flood her cheeks.  She turned her back on the men.

            Chifley lowered his camera and glared at Crombie.  “I’ve told you before, keep quiet!”

            “Only trying to help, old chap,” said Crombie, imitating Chifley’s accent.

            “Let me make this as clear as I can, old chap,” retorted Chifley.  “If you don’t shut up we will stop now.  I’m sure Lara would not object to abandoning the shoot.”

            “All right.  Agreed.  Not another word.”  His evil grin seemed to say otherwise.

            Chifley walked over to Lara, hesitated a moment, then put his arm around her.  She did not shrug it away, as he’d feared she would.

            “I’m sorry Lara.”

            “It’s not your fault Peter.  God, I didn’t think I was so bloody sensitive!”

            “It is my fault.  I got you into this, luring you here with the bait of Madunai Island.”  He swallowed nervously then said, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue.”

            She knew how much this shoot meant to him and she looked closely at him, gauging whether it was an honest offer.  She could see that it was.  It was tempting, very tempting, but...

            “No.  I keep my word when I give it.”

            She could see the immense relief on his face and was glad for her decision.  She put her hands to her cheeks to check her blush had gone.

            “Just ignore him Lara,” advised Chifley, his expression stern.  “Pretend it’s just you and me.”

            “I intend to.”  She smiled.  “Believe me Peter, I have endured far worse than this.”

            Then she kissed his cheek.

            It was his turn to blush.  He took several minutes to organise himself and restart the shoot.

            “OK. Lean forward, facing the altar.  Put your hands on it.  Good.”

            He moved beside her, photographing her from the side.  Jack and Crombie moved with him, remaining behind him out of shot.  She knew that Crombie would be ogling her breasts as they pressed against her bikini top.  Christina’s warning about falling out of her top resonated eerily in her mind.

            Chifley and the others moved behind her.  “Tense now.  Tighten your behind.  That’s it.  Lovely.”

            She was half hoping that Crombie would say something so she could sweep a kick back into his lecherous face.

            “If you could get onto the altar now Lara,” asked Chifley.  “Crawling, like a cat.  Sleek, sleek.  Lovely!  Turn to me.  Good.  Great smile!”

            She could scarcely believe she was smiling, without being asked to.

            Chifley moved behind her again, then on to the other side, his camera clicking all the while.

            “Lie flat on the altar now, Lara.  We’ll do a cleavage shot.”

            “A cleavage shot?”  She didn’t like the sound of that, especially on a sacrificial altar.

            “Trust me.  Lie flat first.”

            “It’s warm!”  Lara was amazed that the age-old stone surface was not cold.  It felt like it was heated from below.

            “The lights have been on it all day,” explained Chifley.  “OK.  Now raise your head.  Good.  Now raise yourself a little more.”

            Lara realised what he was after and complied.  She raised her head and shoulders, while her breasts remained pressed against the altar.  “Good cleavage?” she asked.

            “Sensational,” replied Chifley, his camera clicking wildly.

            Crombie released an animal groan, just to let her know he was still watching.  Lara’s smile turned into a snarl.

            Chifley’s camera fell silent and he began to load a new film.  “Why don’t we try it with the black one-piece outfit?” he suggested.

            Jack had set up a changing booth at the top of the amphitheatre, where Lara was able to change costumes.  Over the next hour and a half she went through the same poses over and over again in different swimwear.  Her embarrassment faded, as did any excitement she felt in the process.  Chifley remained enthusiastic, urging her on, coaxing smiles from her and provocatively directing her posture.  Crombie continued to leer at her during the shoot, though he kept his promise of silence.

            “OK.  I think we’ve got what we need,” said Chifley finally.

            “Why don’t you get some shots of our intrepid adventurer posing as a sacrifice?” asked Crombie.

            “What do you mean?” asked Chifley suspiciously.

            “The altar is designed to have a victim held, face-up, in a spread-eagle position.  You can seen the indentations at the edge of the stone where they were bound.”

            Lara saw the four indentations he referred to, surprised that she had not noticed them earlier.

            “Sports Incorporated is not that kind of magazine,” chided Chifley, to Lara’s immense relief.

            “This altar is getting uncomfortably hot, in any case,” said Lara, stepping down from it.

            Jack gave an almighty shudder, his big frame shivering.  “Can’t see how you’re complaining of the heat.  This place is as cold as a tomb.”

            Lara donned her beach-robe, glad to have finished the shoot.  “So we do beach shots tomorrow?” she asked, with little enthusiasm.

            Chifley nodded.

            “There’s no need for you to be there,” said Lara, addressing Crombie.  “Unless you’re afraid I’ll steal the beach.”

            Crombie seemed strangely distracted.  “Yes, I suspect you’re right.  I’ll leave you to yourselves tomorrow.”

            He then walked up the stone steps and out of the amphitheatre.  Lara and Chifley followed him, leaving Jack to transport the equipment.

            “You look tired,” said Lara as they climbed out of the amphitheatre.

            “It’s been a long day, but rewarding.”  He patted the film bag he had slung over his shoulder.  “The winning photo is in here.”

            “You don’t think the beach shots will be better?”

            “Everyone will be submitting beach shots.”  He stopped at the top of the stone steps and looked down at the ancient cavern, a look of wonder on his face despite his weariness.  “No-one else will have this.”

            “And which shot is the winning one?”

            “I won’t know until I see the proofs.  Some shots turn out worse than expected, some better.”

            “Like the shot of me diving into the pool at home?”

            “You liked that one?”  He seemed to swell with pride.

            “It was beautiful.”

            “Thank you.  I love it as well.  And I’d had no plans to take any action shots, just still poses.  Sometimes things turn out completely different to what you expect.”  “Indeed they do,” she replied, admitting to herself for the first time that she liked him.

            They passed through the doorway and she looked up at the stone that was held above them.  Crombie’s engineer had fashioned a wooden brace to hold it up.  It did not look secure and she was glad she’d not seen it before entering the theatre, because she’d have been worried the whole time she was inside that it would collapse and seal them all within.

Though if it had been she and Chifley alone it might not be so bad…

They walked up the sloping corridors together in silence, while she pondered what to do about her attraction to him.  There was no doubt that he was keen on her, but should she pursue it?  Their lifestyles were worlds apart, geographically and philosophically.  If they became involved, could the relationship be maintained?

            ‘Let’s deal with that if it happens,’ she thought.  She rarely found herself attracted so strongly to someone and she was not one to let an opportunity pass her by.

            “Would you like to share some dinner with me tonight?” she asked, in a carefully neutral voice.  “Maia is not the greatest company in the world.”

            His face lit up in one of his dazzling smiles, then she saw his enthusiasm fade.  “Damn it, I can’t.  Lorna and the crew will be meeting to discuss today’s shoot and plan tomorrow’s.  Lorna has strict rules about keeping models out of the meetings.”

            “Hmm.  That doesn’t sound very democratic.”

            Chifley looked uncomfortable.  “Yes, you’re right, but Lorna is right too.  Can you imagine what would happen if Christina attended?  Can you imagine what would happen if you attended and Christina heard about it?”

            “You put up with too much from her.  What’s the worst thing she could do--refuse to work for you?  That sounds like the best thing that could happen.”

            He laughed.  “You’re probably right.  How about I join you after the meeting for some supper?”

            “I’ll make a reservation at my favourite restaurant.”

            “Your hut?”

            “Where else?”

            When they emerged into daylight Christina was hovering about, trying to look like she just happened to be wandering by.

            “So you’re finished for the day Peter?” she asked.  “And how did the wondergirl do?”

            “Just fine Christina.  The shoots of all four of you went well.”

            “Not giving too much away eh?  Well don’t make any decisions until after the beach shoot tomorrow.”

            “Make any decisions?  Christina!  I don’t decide anything!  I just submit the photos, I’m not one of the judges.”

            “Nevertheless, Peter, nevertheless.”

            She shot a glare at Lara then walked away.

            “Unbelievable,” muttered Chifley.  “You’d think she’d have learned a little bit of etiquette by now.”

            “People like Christina make me glad I work alone.”

            “That’s not possible in my profession however.  And Christina is not the only difficult customer, though she may well be the worst.”  He chuckled.  “Jack has wanted to kill her for years.”

            “I noticed you both looked a little worn.  Was she a problem during the shoot?”

            “Need you ask?  She was appalled by the condition of the temple.  ‘Why can’t these ancient races be more tidy?’  And she refused to get onto the altar, or even touch it, until Jack had polished it to a shine, an act that Crombie was none too happy about.  And Crombie!  There should be a law against guys like that.”

            “A middle-aged horny schoolboy.”

            “Exactly.  If we want to play in his backyard we have to play by his rules.  He has no proprietary claim on the beach, I take it.”

            “I don’t think he’ll pester me again.  He actually looked embarrassed at the end of the shoot.”

            “As he should.”

            “Well, aren’t you the champion of women’s rights?” she asked, with mild sarcasm.

            “He nearly ruined the whole day.  Having some pervert leering at the models all day is about the worst thing that can happen.  And it re-inforces all the rubbish that people already think about fashion photography, stuff I’m forever defending myself against.”

            “Such as?”

            “I take it you don’t read the tabloids?”

            “Not if I can avoid it.”

            “They’ve had me sleeping with every second photographic model in England.  I mean, I would never have the time, even if I were given the opportunity.  According to Fleet Street I’m the biggest cad of the century.  Every time a model drops a few kilos and is accused of anorexia, a split-up with me is the cause.  It drives me crazy.”

            “I know what you mean.  The tabloids have taken an unhealthy interest in my love-life as well.”

            “I know.”

            “You know?  You read the damn rags?”

            He frowned.  “Well, how else can I keep up with what they’re saying about me?”

            She smiled a teasing smile.  “So you would have seen the article about me and George Clooney?”

            “I thought it was worth a look, since you were in it.”

            She laughed.  “It had me reaching for my Magnums when I first read it.  Then I was going to sue.  Then I read it again, and a third time.  And when it was all boiled down all they were saying was that I had met him on a plane flight, which was true.  The rest was just innuendo, which you can’t sue over.”

            “Well it’s a relief to me.”

            She frowned at his non-sequitor.  “What is a relief to you?  That I am not conducting a clandestine affair with Clooney?”

            “No.”  He smiled at her annoyance.  “It’s a relief that you know better than to believe what you read in the tabloids... about me.”

            She smiled.  “I hate to disappoint you Peter, but I don’t recall reading anything about you.”

            “Oh.”  He was disappointed and she could tell he now regretted raising the issue.

            “So I can now assume that you are not sleeping with every second photographic model in England?”

            “Yes.  I guess that was my point.”

            “So, what then?  Every third one?”

             “Lara,” he groaned, with a rueful smile.

            ‘The boy has it bad,’ she thought.  ‘It matters terribly to him what I think of him.’

            “Get to your meeting Peter,” she advised.  “We’ll talk later.”

            She walked through the camp, past the utilitarian huts.  The site was almost deserted.  She could see none of Crombie’s Peruvian team.  Puzzled, she called in at his hut.

            “Lara!  What a pleasant surprise!  Will you be having dinner with me again?”

            “Not in this life,” she replied caustically.

            Crombie’s face fell and his shoulders slumped.  “I suppose I deserve that,” he muttered.  “In place of dinner, what can I do for you?”

            “Where are your crewmen?”

            “I ordered them to leave today.  They’ve flown back to Lima.”

            “And this took place when?  While we were in the ruin?”

            “Yes.”  His face seemed troubled and his eyes were on her face, not her body.

            “What’s going on Crombie?” she asked, suddenly uneasy.  “What are you planning?”

            “Nothing, my dear.  They were no longer needed, that’s all.”

            “And the plane, when does it get back?”

            “Tomorrow.  Were you hoping to leave sooner?”

            “Why send them all off while I was out of sight?  Why the secrecy?”

            He rubbed at one temple.  “I don’t know what you mean Lara.  I know I’ve behaved badly... reprehensibly, but there is nothing ‘going on’.  I’m just winding down operations here.”

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