Chitown
06-10-2012, 02:34 PM
"Pandora" featuring Selena Gomez
Written by chitown
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, containing material of a somewhat explicit nature, intended to entertain adults. If that's going to trouble you, or not permitted to you for some reason, read no further.
I'd finished the fourth casting ‘interview' of the morning, looking for an unknown for the lead in my next movie, when scanning ahead a name caught my attention.
I pushed a button on the intercom, "What's the reason for my 11 o'clock?"
"Each meeting today is for Pandora," Lisa, my assistant, replied.
"Is that who I think it is, or is the name a coincidence?"
"That's her. Her people seemed excited you'd reached out to them." A pause. "You did call them , didn't you?"
I rolled my eyes, though no one else was in the room to see. "Who specifically, are her people?"
"I spoke to Mandy, I believe." Some paper rustled. "Yes, my notes say Mandy Teefy."
I wondered what game they might be playing, because I didn't believe for a moment Selena Gomez wanted the lead in my just-this-side-of-porn project.
Sigh. Two more lackluster sessions brought me to 11am. Actually, the one had the look I envisioned, but her total lack of acting ability made me wonder who'd told her movies were her future.
Then Miss Selena Gomez walked through my double doors and nothing else mattered. She wore a slinky chain mail number, hemmed at the knee to show off her shapely calves, flexed by the 4 inch black, open-toed stilettos.
I only spared a moment's glance at her clearcoat polished digits because the plunging V of the neckline, to the 2 inch wide belt at her waist, displayed her fun bags to great effect.
I have to admit that in the past I'd felt her stylist had done a spectacular job with padding and push-ups to give her wonderful, natural looking curves when she's wearing clothes. But I'd seen enough pap shots of her at the beach to suspect her chest was mostly illusion and her ass, well frankly, just not round enough. However, I'd say, with the view this dress afforded me, despite being fully lined, she'd grown a nice pair.
Most guys would probably get lost in that cleavage, but I'd spent all morning looking at young women's bodies, so I wasn't surprised when the lightly smoked shadow around her liquid mahogany eyes, luxurious brunette tresses and full, scarlet painted lips drew my gaze to her enchantingly beautiful visage.
I stood, extended my hand across the desk as she approached, "Welcome to Starlight Pictures, Miss Gomez."
She grasped my hand firmly, and released, "Thank you"
"Have a seat," and as I sat back down I pressed a button to lock the doors.
She set a matching chain clutch on the desk and settled primly in the leather recliner, her legs crossed demurely.
"What can SP do for you?"
"First please unlock the doors."
"It's only to ensure our privacy"
"No one will get past my friend, but if he decides to enter, I'd rather not have to replace them."
"Very well," I double tapped the switch, the bolt slid back, "what else is on your mind?"
"I'm Pandora. I want the role."
And she's exactly what I don't want. I'm not looking to tone Pandora down so some aging-out tween, no matter how popular, can add some "edge" to her resume. I do however have something in which I would like to work with her so –
I tried to keep my expression neutral, my voice level, "How familiar are you with the script?" Where did she even see it?
"Intimately," she purred in total contrast to her wide-eyed innocence.
"Then you realize there's nudity. Full frontal, no hiding behind long hair or props. Tits, ass, cunt, all your bits on display."
"Yes"
"The rape scene will be graphic. It will be a hard core R if not NC-17."
"I get that. As long as you not expecting to film actual penetration, I'm game."
"I don't use body doubles"
"I'm not asking to"
Well, shit. I opened a drawer, pulled out a copy of Calypso. "You know, I'd like to see the public reaction to your work in Spring Breakers and 13 Reasons Why, but frankly I don't think you quite have the … ah … physical assets Pandora requires, but I would love to have you consider a role in the follow up." I placed the script on the desk next to her purse.
Her eyes, which had held mine the entire conversation, flicked to the video camera in the corner.
"Does that work?"
"Of course"
"Why don't you start it recording, and sit back down?"
I was curious about how she planned to read for me, since she clearly hadn't brought a copy of the script and I hadn't offered one, but I decided to play along since she really is easy on the eyes.
As I sat back down, the red light indicator on, she reached for the clutch, removed an old time compact tape recorder, and pressed play.
A low, languorous melody filled the room, and I watched as she stood up, reached up behind her neck.
Her delicate little hands came slowly forward and down, and with them came the top of her dress.
Her twins, now half shrouded by her brunette mane, the small, round, mocha colored areolas tipped with nipples protruding a good half inch, peaked through the silken curtain.
She was swaying to and fro, swiveling her hips to the rhythm of the music, and yes she's got a great rack for her size 2 body, but even that dress had been giving her an assist.
I was almost mesmerized by the innocent expression on her face, highlighted by her bright red smile, contrasted by the gentle bounce of her unrestrained breasts, when I noticed her hands subtly working the belt, the 2 inch strip of black leather all that kept the dress from puddling at her feet.
Briefly, I thought, the joke's on her if she thinks she can buy the role with sex. I've already fucked 6 hopefuls this morning, but since she's offering, I wasn't going to refuse.
The belt came undone and the metal sheathed linen slithered over her hips and now I could view that toned tummy with its soft slight rounding. Her taut thighs firm as she swayed. The surprising triangle of dark, neatly trimmed bush concealing her prize. I mean, I thought all these little harlots shaved nowadays.
She reached up, to run her hands through that glorious head of hair, giving me an unfettered view of her nakedness as she stepped out of the dress pooled at her feet, and as if on cue the beat of her music sped up.
Still combing her locks with delicate digits, she sashayed around the desk. Reaching the point between my knees, she began to shimmy around, finally to show me her bare ass. She wiggled her cute little butt at me, looking back over her shoulder, to gauge my reaction, I guess.
Definitely fine, but as I thought, probably not quite full enough, round enough, when naked. That still wasn't going to stop me fucking her brains out, the little minx.
I reached to grab her hips, pull her into my lap, but as soon as my hands touched her she batted them away, and spun in place to face me.
She leaned forward, and the mint on her breath collided with the scent on her skin, and my half mast cock lurched in my pants. I felt a bolt of electricity when she whispered in a kittenish voice, "Club rules: no hands. You grab and the bouncer tosses you. No refund, no exchange."
She turned herself back around, shaking her derriere at me some, and then the soundtrack changed again, developing a more insistent beat, as she sat in my lap.
Selena moved her firm little buns to the beat caressing my now rigid pole through my pants.
Her shoulder blades jabbed my pecs as she reached up and back to run her slim fingers through my moptop, across my scalp.
I felt my hands lifting up off the armrests of the chair. Her ass grinding against my hard-on, her body arcing back, her scent in my nose … God, I had to have her.
Just before I made contact, before I grabbed her tits and squeezed, squished, yanked, pinched, rubbed – I remembered the game. "Can I touch you?" I breathed into her ear.
"Club rules: no hands"
I let my arms fall, and she hopped off me. I didn't have time to protest before she spun and jumped back up, kneeling on my thighs. The girl pulled my head to her chest, mouth right over her breast.
My tongue tasted the salt of her perspiration, proof that she was working as hard as I. I sucked her fleshy mound in with my breath and tugged on the nipple with my teeth. She let out a gasp and released my head, but bracing both hands on my shoulders slid her hips forward to rub her crotch against my abs.
My head free of constraint, I used my lips, my tongue, my teeth to vigorously molest her chest.
She twisted and shivered, gasped and moaned, grinding her naked sex against my shirt and in some part of the back of my brain I noted a dampness on my belly.
After one particularly hard bite right at that mole, (you know the one) which I confess probably meant she'd need a cover-up and a change of style for a couple days to conceal the teeth marks on her tit, she leapt off me and fished my steel rod out, and I noticed the frenetic drive of the bass.
Selena used my own pre-cum as lube and then her right hand became a blur. Her left some how snaked in and cradled my jewels.
After some few moments of her velvet soft hands working me over I felt an inadvertent lurch of my hips, my head leaned back as my eyes rolled up, she released my balls and then I was shooting my load. The music fell silent.
Oh, man. I‘d given the ol' hot beef injection to 6 women this morning but it was a handjob from this 20 year old girl that made me cum.
I'd guess she cleaned me up tucked me away as I'd floated because next thing I was aware of, I watched as she dropped some wadded up tissue in the waste basket on her way around the desk.
"Cigarette?" I asked, pulling a pack from the top drawer.
"No thanks"
She slipped the dress back on, and for modesty's sake I found myself hoping she had a jacket with her. She retrieved the clutch, replaced the tape recorder, took the Calypso script, too.
"Next meeting, after I have the role, I'll use my mouth."
Oh, fuck. Really? "How do you know I won't release that?" I pointed to the still recording camera.
She shrugged, "That's the chance to take for this opportunity, though after you cast me, we both know why you won't."
She was at the door when I said, "You'd need to shave, completely."
She turned back to smile, "That's a whole different negotiation"
And then she was through the doors and I noticed I had 2 minutes before the next ‘interview'. I couldn't help but smile, I just got a 25 minute lap dance from Selena Gomez, and I had it recorded in 1080p hi def.
**
Out in the car Selena asked, "How'd it go?"
"Without knowing the exact make and model, I estimate a 95% chance the recording is unrecognizable, otherwise almost certainly messed up to some degree."
He glanced over at her. "What the hell? You're shaking like a leaf. What's wrong?"
"Delayed reaction. I think that's the second scariest thing I've ever done."
"Second?"
"Don't think anything will ever be scarier than the York Fair"
He didn't respond.
"George, we need to find a room. I'm all wound up."
Written by chitown
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, containing material of a somewhat explicit nature, intended to entertain adults. If that's going to trouble you, or not permitted to you for some reason, read no further.
I'd finished the fourth casting ‘interview' of the morning, looking for an unknown for the lead in my next movie, when scanning ahead a name caught my attention.
I pushed a button on the intercom, "What's the reason for my 11 o'clock?"
"Each meeting today is for Pandora," Lisa, my assistant, replied.
"Is that who I think it is, or is the name a coincidence?"
"That's her. Her people seemed excited you'd reached out to them." A pause. "You did call them , didn't you?"
I rolled my eyes, though no one else was in the room to see. "Who specifically, are her people?"
"I spoke to Mandy, I believe." Some paper rustled. "Yes, my notes say Mandy Teefy."
I wondered what game they might be playing, because I didn't believe for a moment Selena Gomez wanted the lead in my just-this-side-of-porn project.
Sigh. Two more lackluster sessions brought me to 11am. Actually, the one had the look I envisioned, but her total lack of acting ability made me wonder who'd told her movies were her future.
Then Miss Selena Gomez walked through my double doors and nothing else mattered. She wore a slinky chain mail number, hemmed at the knee to show off her shapely calves, flexed by the 4 inch black, open-toed stilettos.
I only spared a moment's glance at her clearcoat polished digits because the plunging V of the neckline, to the 2 inch wide belt at her waist, displayed her fun bags to great effect.
I have to admit that in the past I'd felt her stylist had done a spectacular job with padding and push-ups to give her wonderful, natural looking curves when she's wearing clothes. But I'd seen enough pap shots of her at the beach to suspect her chest was mostly illusion and her ass, well frankly, just not round enough. However, I'd say, with the view this dress afforded me, despite being fully lined, she'd grown a nice pair.
Most guys would probably get lost in that cleavage, but I'd spent all morning looking at young women's bodies, so I wasn't surprised when the lightly smoked shadow around her liquid mahogany eyes, luxurious brunette tresses and full, scarlet painted lips drew my gaze to her enchantingly beautiful visage.
I stood, extended my hand across the desk as she approached, "Welcome to Starlight Pictures, Miss Gomez."
She grasped my hand firmly, and released, "Thank you"
"Have a seat," and as I sat back down I pressed a button to lock the doors.
She set a matching chain clutch on the desk and settled primly in the leather recliner, her legs crossed demurely.
"What can SP do for you?"
"First please unlock the doors."
"It's only to ensure our privacy"
"No one will get past my friend, but if he decides to enter, I'd rather not have to replace them."
"Very well," I double tapped the switch, the bolt slid back, "what else is on your mind?"
"I'm Pandora. I want the role."
And she's exactly what I don't want. I'm not looking to tone Pandora down so some aging-out tween, no matter how popular, can add some "edge" to her resume. I do however have something in which I would like to work with her so –
I tried to keep my expression neutral, my voice level, "How familiar are you with the script?" Where did she even see it?
"Intimately," she purred in total contrast to her wide-eyed innocence.
"Then you realize there's nudity. Full frontal, no hiding behind long hair or props. Tits, ass, cunt, all your bits on display."
"Yes"
"The rape scene will be graphic. It will be a hard core R if not NC-17."
"I get that. As long as you not expecting to film actual penetration, I'm game."
"I don't use body doubles"
"I'm not asking to"
Well, shit. I opened a drawer, pulled out a copy of Calypso. "You know, I'd like to see the public reaction to your work in Spring Breakers and 13 Reasons Why, but frankly I don't think you quite have the … ah … physical assets Pandora requires, but I would love to have you consider a role in the follow up." I placed the script on the desk next to her purse.
Her eyes, which had held mine the entire conversation, flicked to the video camera in the corner.
"Does that work?"
"Of course"
"Why don't you start it recording, and sit back down?"
I was curious about how she planned to read for me, since she clearly hadn't brought a copy of the script and I hadn't offered one, but I decided to play along since she really is easy on the eyes.
As I sat back down, the red light indicator on, she reached for the clutch, removed an old time compact tape recorder, and pressed play.
A low, languorous melody filled the room, and I watched as she stood up, reached up behind her neck.
Her delicate little hands came slowly forward and down, and with them came the top of her dress.
Her twins, now half shrouded by her brunette mane, the small, round, mocha colored areolas tipped with nipples protruding a good half inch, peaked through the silken curtain.
She was swaying to and fro, swiveling her hips to the rhythm of the music, and yes she's got a great rack for her size 2 body, but even that dress had been giving her an assist.
I was almost mesmerized by the innocent expression on her face, highlighted by her bright red smile, contrasted by the gentle bounce of her unrestrained breasts, when I noticed her hands subtly working the belt, the 2 inch strip of black leather all that kept the dress from puddling at her feet.
Briefly, I thought, the joke's on her if she thinks she can buy the role with sex. I've already fucked 6 hopefuls this morning, but since she's offering, I wasn't going to refuse.
The belt came undone and the metal sheathed linen slithered over her hips and now I could view that toned tummy with its soft slight rounding. Her taut thighs firm as she swayed. The surprising triangle of dark, neatly trimmed bush concealing her prize. I mean, I thought all these little harlots shaved nowadays.
She reached up, to run her hands through that glorious head of hair, giving me an unfettered view of her nakedness as she stepped out of the dress pooled at her feet, and as if on cue the beat of her music sped up.
Still combing her locks with delicate digits, she sashayed around the desk. Reaching the point between my knees, she began to shimmy around, finally to show me her bare ass. She wiggled her cute little butt at me, looking back over her shoulder, to gauge my reaction, I guess.
Definitely fine, but as I thought, probably not quite full enough, round enough, when naked. That still wasn't going to stop me fucking her brains out, the little minx.
I reached to grab her hips, pull her into my lap, but as soon as my hands touched her she batted them away, and spun in place to face me.
She leaned forward, and the mint on her breath collided with the scent on her skin, and my half mast cock lurched in my pants. I felt a bolt of electricity when she whispered in a kittenish voice, "Club rules: no hands. You grab and the bouncer tosses you. No refund, no exchange."
She turned herself back around, shaking her derriere at me some, and then the soundtrack changed again, developing a more insistent beat, as she sat in my lap.
Selena moved her firm little buns to the beat caressing my now rigid pole through my pants.
Her shoulder blades jabbed my pecs as she reached up and back to run her slim fingers through my moptop, across my scalp.
I felt my hands lifting up off the armrests of the chair. Her ass grinding against my hard-on, her body arcing back, her scent in my nose … God, I had to have her.
Just before I made contact, before I grabbed her tits and squeezed, squished, yanked, pinched, rubbed – I remembered the game. "Can I touch you?" I breathed into her ear.
"Club rules: no hands"
I let my arms fall, and she hopped off me. I didn't have time to protest before she spun and jumped back up, kneeling on my thighs. The girl pulled my head to her chest, mouth right over her breast.
My tongue tasted the salt of her perspiration, proof that she was working as hard as I. I sucked her fleshy mound in with my breath and tugged on the nipple with my teeth. She let out a gasp and released my head, but bracing both hands on my shoulders slid her hips forward to rub her crotch against my abs.
My head free of constraint, I used my lips, my tongue, my teeth to vigorously molest her chest.
She twisted and shivered, gasped and moaned, grinding her naked sex against my shirt and in some part of the back of my brain I noted a dampness on my belly.
After one particularly hard bite right at that mole, (you know the one) which I confess probably meant she'd need a cover-up and a change of style for a couple days to conceal the teeth marks on her tit, she leapt off me and fished my steel rod out, and I noticed the frenetic drive of the bass.
Selena used my own pre-cum as lube and then her right hand became a blur. Her left some how snaked in and cradled my jewels.
After some few moments of her velvet soft hands working me over I felt an inadvertent lurch of my hips, my head leaned back as my eyes rolled up, she released my balls and then I was shooting my load. The music fell silent.
Oh, man. I‘d given the ol' hot beef injection to 6 women this morning but it was a handjob from this 20 year old girl that made me cum.
I'd guess she cleaned me up tucked me away as I'd floated because next thing I was aware of, I watched as she dropped some wadded up tissue in the waste basket on her way around the desk.
"Cigarette?" I asked, pulling a pack from the top drawer.
"No thanks"
She slipped the dress back on, and for modesty's sake I found myself hoping she had a jacket with her. She retrieved the clutch, replaced the tape recorder, took the Calypso script, too.
"Next meeting, after I have the role, I'll use my mouth."
Oh, fuck. Really? "How do you know I won't release that?" I pointed to the still recording camera.
She shrugged, "That's the chance to take for this opportunity, though after you cast me, we both know why you won't."
She was at the door when I said, "You'd need to shave, completely."
She turned back to smile, "That's a whole different negotiation"
And then she was through the doors and I noticed I had 2 minutes before the next ‘interview'. I couldn't help but smile, I just got a 25 minute lap dance from Selena Gomez, and I had it recorded in 1080p hi def.
**
Out in the car Selena asked, "How'd it go?"
"Without knowing the exact make and model, I estimate a 95% chance the recording is unrecognizable, otherwise almost certainly messed up to some degree."
He glanced over at her. "What the hell? You're shaking like a leaf. What's wrong?"
"Delayed reaction. I think that's the second scariest thing I've ever done."
"Second?"
"Don't think anything will ever be scarier than the York Fair"
He didn't respond.
"George, we need to find a room. I'm all wound up."