Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

  “Don’t you want to know if it’s true?” she said, grinning.

  I stuttered. “If what’s true? That you’re rich?”

  “That I’ve got a cock.” She was staring into my eyes, still with that sly grin.

  I cleared my throat. “I mean—I’ve seen the video clip. I know what I saw.”

  “What if it’s fake? What if someone put it there? You know, it’s amazing what they can do with visual effects.”

  I laughed. “To be honest, I’m not all that impressed with what they can do with visual effects.” I took a step back from her carefully. I didn’t feel comfortable within arm’s reach. “I stare at footage for a living—I know the difference between real and computer generated.”

  “So you’re working on the movie?” she asked. “Are you the editor? You don’t look like an editor—maybe you work in the sound department. Or a colourist—if I had to guess, I would guess that you’re a colourist. Ah-ha! Look at your face. You aren’t good at hiding your emotions. No offense, but if I were you, I wouldn’t look into a career in acting.”

  “I’m not a colourist,” I said. But my voice was far from convincing.

  “I bet you could get in a lot of trouble if your boss found out you were doing this,” she said, walking around me with that drink in her hand. She was wearing tall white heels—probably also worth more than my car. Even the way the shoes clicked on the marble floors sounded expensive. “You’re really risking a lot for a few hundred grand. Are you into drugs? Have some gambling debts that need paid off?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just an opportunist. That’s all. Now let’s figure this deal out. If you pay the price, I promise I’ll delete the clip and you’ll never hear about this again—not until someone else finds another clip—that much is out of my control.”

  “I don’t have the money you want, so we’re going to have to figure out another deal.” She took a long sip from her drink.

  I laughed and shook my head. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you? Look at this place. Look at your cars. I’m not an idiot.”

  “The cars are loaners. They’re owned by my publicist’s company. The house too, and everything you see here—including that drink in your hand. It’s all owned by my publicist’s company.”

  I wasn’t buying it. “You were paid fifteen million dollars for your last movie. It’s public news. You aren’t fooling me.”

  “After taxes I made nine million. And then I had to pay my publicist, my agent, and my manager—they each took ten percent, leaving me with just under six million.”

  “Do you hear that?” I asked, looking around. “I think that’s the sound of the world’s tiniest violin. You do three movies a year.”

  “I’ve only ever done three big studio movies. The rest of the movies I’ve done, I did for free. Some of them I even financed. I can show you my bank account. I have less than a million dollars in savings. That’s a fact.”

  I watched her as she took another long sip from her drink. “Okay, well, what do you want me to say? In that case, I’ll just delete the clip and move on with my life. I’ll forget that I was ever offered $350,000. I’ll just go back to work, making ten grand a year more than people on welfare. That’s what you’re telling me?”

  She took a step closer to me and looked into my eyes. It was hard to believe that she was actually a man. Staring into those eyes, I wasn’t sure I believed it at all. And that grin on her face only made it harder to accept.

  “Look,” I said. “I’ve got to go because I’ve got work in the morning. And if I don’t show up for time, I lose my job, and then I can’t afford to live in my crappy studio apartment. So either you have the money for me, or I’m going to one of my contacts.”

  “One of your contacts?” she asked, still with that grin. “You’ve got lots of contacts? You do this a lot?”

  My heart fizzled down into my stomach and I felt my face turning red. “I mean—one of the people who contacted me about this whole thing. Don’t try to put words in my mouth. Do you have the money or not?” I looked back to make sure the door was within escaping distance.

  “I don’t have the money,” she said. She started walking around me. “But I can get it—probably in a couple of months. I’m being considered for this upcoming Tarantino movie. If I get the role, then I’ll have your cash. But I won’t know for a while still.”

  “Not good enough,” I said. It was probably true that it was just a matter of time before my contacts discovered for themselves that Vanessa had a cock dangling between her legs.

  “Maybe I can tide you over until then—give you something worth more than money,” she said, stopping behind me. She put her drink down on a little side table and then she reached her hands around my body, placing them on my chest. I became tense and cold all over. Her hands were small and soft—not at all like they belonged to a man—and she smelled so nice, like money and cinnamon and flowers.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m making sure you don’t have any recording devices on you. I wouldn’t want to give you something you could actually blackmail me with.” I could hear that grin in her voice. She could probably feel my heart pounding—and she could probably hear it too. She moved her hands down, checking my whole torso for devices in a strangely sensual way. And then she ducked down and checked my legs. She pulled my phone out from my pocket and then she turned it on to make sure it wasn’t set to record—and then she placed it next to her drink on the little side table.

  “I’m not recording any of this,” I said as she brought her hands back up. She cupped my butt cheeks, making me even more tense, and then she reached around and slipped her fingers under my ball sack. I perked up and took in a sharp breath of air, but for some reason I didn’t push her hands away—even though I knew they were male hands.

  She didn’t move them away. Instead, she fondled my cock. “You’re big,” she said. “You could do porn with a cock like this.”

  My face was burning hot. “I really need to go.”

  “Just let me suck your cock,” she said, “and then I’ll get your money in a month. Deal?” It was hard not to push her away from me with a vicious shove, knowing that she was a man and that her cock was only an inch away from my ass, separated only by a couple thin layers of fabric. But it was hard to decline her offer with the sensual way she was rubbing my package. It felt good—too good.

  My body shuddered but I remained unmoved. Her hand slipped down the front of my pants and onto my bare cock. She grabbed it gently and began to massage the length of my shaft. “I’ll take that as a deal,” she said. “Let’s shake on it.” She giggled before giving my cock a gentle shake.

  “I—I really have to be going,” I said. I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. A transgender was stroking my bare cock. A man was stroking my bare cock. But also, Vanessa Klein, one of the most famous women on the planet, was stroking my bare cock. And goddamnit, it felt good.

  She took a step closer to me, pressing her pelvis against my bum and her tits against my back. She got a better grip on my cock, which she managed to wrestle out from my pants. I was already hard, getting harder with record speed. I looked down and watched as she pulled back my foreskin and rubbed my bulbous tip. “I can’t believe how big you are,” she said, teasing my length with the tips of her fingers.

  My lips parted to reply, but I had nothing to say. So I just stood there and remained silent. She continued to work my shaft, tightening her grip, pumping a little bit faster. I trembled all over as warm euphoria began to fill my body and tickle my bones. “Faster,” I said. She pumped me faster. “Faster,” I said again. And now she was beating me off with purpose and drive and determination.

  Her lips hovered next to my ear. “You’re so hard,” she whispered. I drew a long, cool breath of air into my lungs. “I want you to come for me. I want you to come all over my brand new marble floor. And then I want you to make me lick it all up.”

&nbs
p; “Okay,” I whimpered. I wasn’t too far away from coming. The tip of my cock was tingling and my legs were shaking. I took another deep breath in and then I closed my eyes. And that’s when I could feel a hard bulge growing against my bum—pushing through her dress and against the back of my jeans. She was either playing a joke on me or she was springing an erection. And I could see both of her hands—one was wrapped around my cock at the other was fondling my ball sack. So the bulge must have been an erection.

  But it didn’t stop me. It didn’t take me out of the moment. I clenched hard but couldn’t stop the eruption of cum that ended up on her marble floor. She squeezed out the last drop from my rod and then she walked around me and got down on her hands and knees. I stared down at her, my heart pounding and body trembling. “Well?” she said without looking at me. So I sunk down to my knees and I grabbed the back of her head. I pushed her head down to the floor and made her lick up my cum. I rubbed her nose in it and then I even used my fingers to wipe a glob off of her cheek and into her mouth.

  She stood up and I saw that huge erect bulge in her dress. She reached up her skirt and tucked it properly into her panties. The bulge was still there but hardly noticeable now. “I’ll see you in a month,” she said before licking her lips.

  I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure what had just happened—if it was real or just a wild dream. So I simply turned around and left, getting into my car without looking back.

  CHAPTER VIII

  When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t figure out if my strange romp with Vanessa Klein had been real or just some vivid dream. I wouldn’t have believed it if I couldn’t still smell Vanessa’s expensive perfume on the shirt that I’d worn to her house—the shirt that was now on the top of my laundry bin. So it was real: I really got a handjob from one of the biggest celebrities in Hollywood—a girl who was possibly going to win an Oscar and star in a Tarantino movie. And it was also true that I’d gotten a handjob from a transgender—a biological male.

  I spent most of that morning staring in the mirror, trying to figure out why I didn’t stop her. I should have just left as soon as she said she wasn’t going to pay up. I should have just gone to one of my contacts like I usually did, and left the stars out of the equation. Now I had nothing to show for one of the biggest scoops I’d ever come across—nothing but a state of confusion.

  I knew her secret, but now she knew my secret. She knew that I was a colourist and she knew that I was working on her movie. All she had to do was go to our company website and she would see my picture with my name, and she could tell my boss that I was out blackmailing celebrities. I would be without a job—and without a career—before lunchtime.

  I was nervous walking into the office, worried the news had already reached my boss. I stepped through the door slowly, and then I paused as everyone turned to look at me. The room became silent and my heart jumped up into my throat. “What is it?” I asked. My voice was hoarse as if I’d spent the whole previous night screaming at the top of my lungs.

  “What is what?” Alex asked, holding his steaming coffee in his hands.

  A wave of relief washed over me as the men looked back at one another and continued talking. I acted as casual as possible as I sauntered over to the coffee maker to pour myself a coffee.

  “So you were busy last night, huh?” said Sammy. I looked back and realized he was talking to me.

  “Busy?” I said. And my heart found itself back in my throat, pounding ferociously.

  “Did you blackmail her or something?”

  Now my heart was in my stomach, fizzling away in my stomach acid. “W-What?” I said.

  “We got a call from Vanessa Klein’s agent.” He stood up and walked towards me. My body became tense, ready to be grabbed by the collar and shouted at. But instead he walked by me and grabbed the coffee pot, to top himself off. “Apparently Vanessa wants to come by and watch you work. Apparently you ran into her last night and chatted her up pretty good.”

  I remained frozen, still unsure of what was happening. “I did?” I said.

  He laughed. “I don’t know, that’s what the agent said. And apparently you lied to her and said that you were the one colouring the movie. I don’t blame you though—I probably would have said the same thing in your position. And honestly, I don’t mind if you want to take a crack at colouring it. Just don’t fuck it up,” he said. “She’ll be here at noon.”

  My legs were on the verge of collapsing in on themselves. I wasn’t sure if my racing heart could race any longer. Sooner or later it was going to come to a crashing halt. Alex walked over to me and gave me a firm pat on the back. “Good job,” he said. “We could use some celebrity exposure around here.” He went to the coffee pot and topped himself up.

  I excused myself to use the bathroom, and once I was in the bathroom stall, I tried to throw up. I knew the nausea wasn’t going to go away unless I threw up—but I could only gag and cough. Vanessa was teasing me. She was coming by to make my life miserable. She probably wanted to be in the room when my boss found out that I’d been selling private clips to the media. She probably wanted to see my face when I was fired. Was what I’d been doing illegal? Would she bring the police with her? Would I spend time in prison?

  I don’t know why I couldn’t throw up. I splashed some cold water on my face and then I took the elevator down to the first floor where there was a pharmacy. I bought some Pepto-Bismol and some extra-strength Advil. They didn’t have anything for anxiety unfortunately.

  That morning, I was like a hero to all of my co-workers. They were so oblivious to what was really happening. And I wasn’t sure how to play along. I knew Vanessa was just setting me up, so I knew that the more I played along, the more embarrassing the inevitable humiliation would be. But what other choice did I have? If I didn’t play along, they would realize that something was up. I couldn’t let them think that something was up in the off chance that Vanessa wasn’t trying to set me up for an embarrassing failure.

  I was in the colouring suite at noon when there was a knock at the door. I was expecting it to be Alex, telling me that Vanessa was waiting for me in the lobby. So I took a deep breath and I wiped the cold sweat off of my forehead. There was a second knock, which was strange. Usually Alex would just let himself in after a few seconds. “Come in,” I called out. And then I watched as Vanessa slipped into the colouring suite.

  “Well look at you,” she said with that familiar grin. And then she looked up at the screen. “And look at me. So I called it—you really are the colourist and you’re working on my movie.”

  I sprung to my feet. “Come sit down,” I said, wanting her as far away from the door as possible. The room was mostly soundproofed, but I had a feeling Alex and the other guys were probably listening at the door.

  “This is where you work all day? There aren’t any windows. Doesn’t that make you crazy? I heard that people can go crazy if they don’t have windows.”

  “It’s important that there’s no glare on the screen while we’re colouring, and that the room is completely neutral with eighteen-percent grey walls.”

  “I guess there’s more to it than I thought,” she said, taking a seat. She was wearing a tiny dress that seemed even tinier once she was seated with her legs crossed. It was shocking to think that someone hiding a cock could get away with such a short dress. But damn, did that dress ever make her legs look good.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s not a good idea for you to be here,” I said quietly.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because there are people who know that I have that clip—people who run websites and magazines. They don’t know it’s you in the clip, but they’re out doing everything they can to figure that out.”

  “Well it’s just stupid gossip until they get that clip, and you won’t let that happen, right?”

  A shiver ran down my spine. “I can try, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Oh, sure you can. Don’t sell yourse
lf so short.” I watched as she reached down and adjusted her tits in the tiny top of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so I could see her nipples poking out.

  I cleared my throat again. “So are those from, like, hormones, or are they implants?” I asked with the quietest voice I could muster.

  She smiled. “They’re implants. Want to feel them? I think they feel pretty real, but it’s hard to know for sure. No one ever tells me what they really think, but I feel like you’ll be honest with me.” She stood up and walked over and my heart skipped a beat. She bent down and I could see right down the top of her dress. I could see her perky nipples and the perfect curvature of her rack. I reached up slowly and noticed my hands were trembling. I cupped the breasts gently and was shocked by how real they felt. “Well?” she said.

  “They feel real to me,” I said.

  “They weren’t cheap.”

  I took another deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” I said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Ruining my career. I told you that I didn’t have a choice. If you want to go after someone, go after the people who want to publish your clip. I’m just a middleman. If you get me fired, I’m screwed. I don’t have millions of dollars like you.”

  “Whoa, calm down. What are you on about? I’m not here to ruin you. I’m here to watch you work. I’ve always wondered how movies get coloured. I think it’s so interesting.”

  I wasn’t buying it. I knew she was setting me up, I just didn’t know how yet. Maybe she was trying to get me to admit to blackmailing her. Maybe she had a recording device on her. She had her hair tied up into a fancy bun—maybe there was a little camera in that bun. “Show me the recorder. Take it out,” I said.

  She stared at me with a half-smile. “What recorder?” she asked. “I haven’t owned a recorder since the third grade.”