She supposed that a person stopped getting horny and focused on minutiae. We’re getting glare off the spit on her breast. Is the camera angle going to catch that ten-incher? Bend backward, honey, show me some pink. Suddenly she was reluctant to take off her panties, her knee-highs, and her industrial-grade bra.
The soles of her feet tingled. Randy. Waiting for her.
Looking over her shoulder, Jewel slipped out of her underthings. She laid them carefully on top of her folded clothes.
Then she knelt on the rug.
Lust hit her so hard that she slumped onto her side. Fake bear hair tickled her nose. She had just enough time to roll onto her back, and then she was sinking into demonspace, her arms outstretched and clutching for the man she’d come to rescue.
She found herself standing in the sound booth again, looking out of the long window while a technician beside her tweaked the console. In the studio, colored lights played over a naked man standing center-stage.
She looked closer at the man on the stage. Randy.
She was so relieved, she was out the door and into the studio before it occurred to her that she was naked and barefoot. The lighting man circled Randy, calling out numbers. His helper aimed bright lights at him from all sides. Randy backed away from her as she approached. Her heart thumped anxiously.
But then he lounged back on a divan covered in a tiger-print velvet throw.
A man stepped between her and Randy. Hold still, he commanded, and, impatient, she stopped, her eyes on Randy. The man steadied her with one hand on her shoulder and tickled her all over with a thick powdery makeup brush: earlobes, neck, chin, cheekbones, nipples, inside her elbows, on the tops of her thighs.
She ignored him. She didn’t want to lose sight of Randy. She was almost ready to pull free when the makeup man released her.
She took four steps closer to Randy, and then a voice called out, Stop.
She stopped.
Turn around.
She turned. The lights blinded her.
Men swooped in with lights and cameras.
Chin up. Look left. Lick your lips. Bend backward and to the right.
She did these things, realizing that Randy hadn’t moved. In fact, he was waiting for her.
It was all arranged.
These men with their tickly brushes and their lights and angles and microphones were not here to keep them apart. In fact, they planned to bring her together with Randy.
Her nipples hardened. All over her body, her skin tightened, as if her insides were swelling with every breath, making her sweat.
Snatches of conversation came through the buzzing in her ears.
Nice even breasts. Watch that shadow.
Better?
Yes. More powder.
Someone skittered the brush over her breasts. She let her eyes drift half-shut.
Lift the left one.
She was barely listening. A warm hand lifted her left breast.
Now the right.
Two hands, lifting her breasts.
Thank you. Turn?
Fingertips turned her. She realized her eyes were closed. She opened them to see Randy sitting up on the edge of the divan, his hands on either side of him, his gaze on her lower body.
He said, May we have some oil on her cunny before penetration?
Suddenly she realized someone else was touching her breasts. Strange eyes were watching her. She looked around wildly, staring into the face of the makeup man behind her.
He was Randy.
She looked from cameraman to boom operator to director.
Randy.
Randy.
Randy.
She looked at the window of the sound booth. The sound man inside, Randy of course, put thumb and forefinger together.
She put her hand on her throat.
I’m in demonspace. He can be anyone.
Randy the director spoke. Here is the story. You are an actress. You have never performed in one of these films before. You will do what you are told. You will attempt everything, however strange. At first, you may resist, but you will do it.
Fingertips nudged her knees apart. Farther, please, Randy the makeup artist said, breathing on her hipbone. She felt a cool spritz of oil on her pussy.
Randy the director rose from his chair and walked in a slow circle around the divan where Randy the actor sat. Your leading man is experienced. You have feelings for him, but you try not to show them. You must pretend you have never done any of these things before. As he passed behind her he leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. You will love every moment of it.
Randy the director circled to stand before her, bigger and darker than she remembered, his long hair tied back in a ponytail and his eyes black with focus. She felt her knees buckle.
Do you understand?
She nodded.
You may say, ‘Yes.’ That is your only line. May we have the line?
She wet her lips. Yes.
Randy the cameraman leaned over his machine, his ponytail swinging forward.
Randy the boom operator moved the microphone until it almost touched her lips.
Yes, she said, and after that it was easy.
Randy the cameraman looked at Randy the director, who strode lithely to his chair and sat.
Action, he commanded.
Randy the actor stepped forward and took her hand. She went with him to the divan. You are lovelier naked than clothed, he said. I think I shall always fuck you naked.
Yes, she said obediently.
They lay back on the divan and he put both his hands around her throat, then stroked downward firmly, as if squeegeeing water off her torso. Her bones turned to butter. Tentatively, she slid her hand up his knee. He smiled. He rolled against her, slapping her thigh with his erection. It was easily as long as Sancho’s. He handed her a condom.
From far away, she heard his voice say, With your mouth, my dear.
She opened the condom and capped his erection with it.
Have you ever fellated a man before witnesses? Randy the actor murmured.
She was going on record. Everyone would know. She felt her skin shrink, then swell again. The hot lights beat down.
Yes, she said, though she hadn’t.
She bent, using her lips and tongue to roll the condom down over him. He was huge. Never again would she laugh when a guy said ‘ten inches.’ With her jaw stretched wide and her tongue working over the length of him, she was conscious of the light blazing into her eyes, his fingers twisting in her hair, the barely audible murmur of the director talking to someone else.
Her behind heated up under the lights, hotter and hotter and hotter. Randy tightened his fingers in her hair, and she forgot everything except getting him hard and teasing him.
Okay, that’s enough, the director said. On your back, dear.
She let Randy the actor push her back onto the divan.
Show pink. Smile.
She spread her knees wide, spread her labia with her fingers. She smiled up at Randy, who was only a dark spot with a blaze of light behind him.
That’s it. In you go, Randy.
She sighed with relief. She was so ready. He slid inside her and immediately began pumping. Her stomach tightened, trying to balance on the divan, then her pussy tightened and she almost passed out with lust. The light was so hot on her skin that her private parts warmed — at least, the bits not covered by Randy.
Relax, he said in a soft voice, and she let her head fall back over the other side of the divan and, daringly, put her arms over her head, too, lying wide open, draped exposed over the divan sideways, feeling Randy stroke in and out of her, feeling the lights burn her body.
The director said something, but she ignored him.
Randy held her thighs, impersonally holding her open while he drove in, in, in. Her eyelids fluttered. She could still taste him. She licked her lips, thinking, One million copies of this at twenty-nine ninety-nine, one million horny men jacking off, pretending they can
shoot it over my body, and arched her back into Randy’s thrusts.
—Do what she’s told, the director was saying irritably. Okay, slap her breasts.
Her eyes opened just as Randy leaned down and slapped her breasts, left, then right, left, right, sharp little stinging slaps that made her gasp and clench around his cock. Her nipples were on fire. Randy pinched them, then pinched harder. She spasmed, and would have clutched at his hands, but he spoke in that low voice again.
Pretend you like it. Lie back. Moan for me.
She growled instead.
You like that, he said aloud, roughly. Don’t you.
She remembered her line. Yes!
He slapped her breasts again, smaller slaps, but she felt them like hot brands, like ice cubes held against her puckering nipples. She squirmed, snarled aloud, and thrashed her dangling arms. She wished he would stop. She pretended a growl. He pinched her nipples ever so gently, and the zing went down through her to the point where he entered her body. She yelped.
Say yes, Randy breathed. Make it nice.
Yes!
Say yes. He pumped harder.
Yes!
From far away the director said, What does it take to get her to come? You two hold her wrists.
Hands circled her wrists. The lights shone so bright in her eyes, she couldn’t see who held her.
Randy slapped her breasts again.
Suddenly it wasn’t a joke, and it wasn’t pretend. She had no purchase with her hands. Randy shifted his grip to her ankles and held her legs straight, stretched wide, never stopping that piledriver stroke. Her head hung down, her eyes blinded half by her own hair and half by the lights, and the men on each side of her pulled slightly, and all her muscles melted until she felt she was being pulled slowly to pieces, like taffy.
That’s it. She’s losing control, the director said confidently. Plug this end.
No I’m not, she would have said, but a cock slid into her mouth, warm and fragrant, and stopped her throat, and still it kept sliding in.
Suddenly Randy thickened. Her vulva stretched. He was too thick, in a really good way.
Pink! I need pink! the director screamed.
She was almost there. So close.
Then Randy pulled out.
She would have screamed if she could have breathed.
The lights intensified. Her pussy heated up. Her heart beat in her throat. She could feel that cock in her mouth, bending with her throat, now that’s impossible, and then it started moving, in and out, in and out, never letting her breathe, why don’t I pass out, and panic filled her. She struggled against the hands stretching her arms wide. She wanted to kill Randy for pulling out of her pussy.
Then she felt a finger sliding into her. She bucked.
Randy’s voice whispered in her ear, Say yes. You want it. Say yes. What’s your line? Say it.
She couldn’t breathe.
A second finger joined the first.
Say it. Say yes.
Her lips worked. Her throat tightened around that cock sliding in and out of her mouth, but never out far enough.
Three fingers.
She was starting to throb.
Get ready, Randy whispered in her right ear.
Okay, boys, give it to her! yelled the director.
Get set, Randy whispered in her left ear.
Four fingers, stretching her.
Now suck, baby, said Randy on her right.
Suck harder, said Randy on her left.
The director said, Come on, somebody make her suck. He was talking to her. She sucked, and the cock in her mouth slid all the way down her throat, into her chest, and Randy put the tip of his cock against her vulva and pushed past those four fingers to fill her tightly, and someone slapped her breasts, left, right, pinch, pinch, and a firm thumb pressed down on her trigger, and she burst open like a crack of lightning.
Chapter Twenty
Sweating on the bearskin rug, she screamed in the anechoic silence of the sound booth, just to hear her own voice. That felt so good, she gave another scream.
When her voice gave out, she stopped and lay panting against him. “That was too weird. Let’s not do it again.”
“Very well.” Her sex demon lay beside her, propped up on one elbow. He looked so solid and hunky and real and familiar that her heart flipped over.
He looked into her eyes. “You realize that was based on your prejudices, not upon reality. A more authentic variant would be very different.”
Her head was still full of those voices talking over her, monitoring her arousal, everyone watching, holding her down, helping her let go. Her body throbbed. Randy. She was probably smiling. A big sigh heaved up and out of her.
Randy turned up his palm. “First of all, there are many supernumeraries on the set, and several of them are women. The actress has a choice in what sex acts she will perform. The number of actors available is quite small, because of the necessity for absolute control of one’s priapus, so the chances are she already knows them. She chooses her sexual partners among them.”
Shaking her head to clear it, Jewel said, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s part of my responsibility to you,” he said, “as your incubus. Furthermore, no one directs the sex act once it has begun. There is direction beforehand, but no one interrupts the course of mutual arousal and satisfaction.”
He was totally killing her mood. “So?” she said with annoyance. “I don’t really care, you know.”
“But I do.” He raised his big dark eyes to hers. “There can be no tenderness in the fantasy you asked for.”
She blinked. He’d been digging into her sewer of a libido for three months, and tonight he was critiquing it? She snapped, “I suppose you and Velvita have tenderness in your porno reality?”
“Perhaps not that. But there is courtesy and respect.” After a pause, he admitted, “Very well, I confess, I wanted to tell you. You were dismayed by the smut and the processes for its creation. Once inside your mind, I could see why. You have so many misconceptions. I used those misconceptions to give you the fantasy you believed in.” He looked earnestly into her face. “But I can’t allow you to believe those things are really true.”
“Why the heck not? It’s my fantasy.” She stood up and started putting on her clothes. “And I still don’t want to do it again.”
“Very well, we won’t.” He lay on the rug, watching her dress. He looked very comfortable naked, and yet somehow full of inner tension. It made her crazy to think of him sharing his glorious body with Velvita Fromage.
“I read your diary,” she said. “I’m sorry if you didn’t mean for me to find it.”
His black brows snapped down. “My — oh. On the computer.”
“Yes.”
I was being broken to my work, like that cart horse, he had written.
She knelt and put her hand on his. “It must have been horrible. In that whorehouse. I never imagined. I’m starting to realize that I — I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
The tension seemed to melt out of him. He smiled, and she realized how very much she had missed him. “That’s a relief. I had feared you would be distressed by my decision to stay.”
Her skin prickled with sudden dread. “You’ve stayed for three months,” she said, puzzled. “Why’s now any different?”
“Stay here. At Artistic.” His eyes grew wary again as her frown deepened. “Velvita says they will pay me to be an actor with their company.”
“You — what?” Her mouth fell open.
“Now that I am no longer invisible, I can perform in the guise of an ordinary actor. Or, if the story calls for it, I can draw upon my incubus powers. We shall see what the camera can capture. As you know, when we enter what you call demonspace, we vanish from this world until you achieve climax.”
She found herself on her feet, staring down at him in shock. “But — but you’re out. You’re human again. I just got you out.”
S
lowly he got to his feet and took her hands. “Jewel, I beg you to understand. This is a tremendous opportunity for me.”
“Screwing skanks for a living?” she yelled suddenly, and drew her breath in sharply, surprised at the suddenness of her rage.
With dignity he said, “They are no less deserving than any other woman I have satisfied. No, that’s not what I mean.” He took her hands, squeezing them painfully. “I was a long time in that brothel. A dozen girls came and went. But not one, not one could I please. It—” his jaw tightened. “It hurt me to fail.”
Jewel pulled her hands free and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “That bitch, your mistress. She meant you to fail.”
“She meant me to learn that I was already a failure,” he said soberly. “Those girls taught me so much. I couldn’t put their teaching into practice before the place burned down and the brass bed passed to a new owner.”
“I didn’t know it burned down.” There’s a lot I didn’t know, Jewel realized. That didn’t feel nice in her tummy.
His voice was full of self-loathing. “I thought them unworthy of my consideration. I learned otherwise. I thought myself a more-than-adequate lover. This, also, was untrue. In time, I pleased more than a hundred other women. Yet I could not give what they could give themselves with their bare hands. I owe them this.” His voice shook. “And I can never repay them.”
Her mouth opened but no sound came out.
“Don’t you see, Artistic and Velvita have given me a chance to settle my debts. I held the whores in contempt, and I can never take back that insult. But I can respect these women. Now I can give enough.” He pleaded, “I beg for your understanding, Jewel. Let me earn my keep with the one skill I have. Even now, in my soul, the earl does battle with the incubus. I — I don’t know which one I want to win.”
Jewel blinked. Holy split personality. “I guess I don’t know which one I would want to win, either.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “I really don’t feel good about this.”
The Hinky Bearskin Rug Page 12