tagGroup SexThe California Trip Ch. 02

The California Trip Ch. 02

byAmy Part y Girl©

After lunch, we are back at Bob Davis's office in the studio building with a few minutes to spare. We really haven't had all that much time to relax over our food, considering the, shall we say, "busy," morning we've had, but honestly, food isn't number one on my interest list right now anyway. The door is locked. We knock, but no one answers, so we lean against the wall and wait.

We aren't there for more than a minute or two before Bob appears, accompanied by another man. I recognize him as one of the other four who had watched our auditions.

"Ladies, this is Ellis Inman, my co-partner in the studio. Ellis, Janie and Amy."

We all shake hands. No problem using our real names; if we are going to be doing business, they'll be on the contract, and if not, well, we'll never be seeing him again anyway.

Bob ushers us into his office and we sit in comfortable matching leather chairs opposite his black acrylic desk, while Ellis Inman takes a seat to his right. I glance around. No secretary. Two medium-quality artificial green floor plants, lots of pictures of pretty models on the walls, bikinis, but no full nudity. A large picture window. Behind him is a credenza with a computer and some peripherals including a printer and a scanner. The desk is stark except for a black telephone. No pictures of any family that I can see. The furniture looks new and the room smells faintly of freshly milled wood.

"Ladies, I apologize if we've kept you in suspense, but we had a number of considerations we had to discuss. We've all had a chance to kick this around, and the consensus is that you two could quite possibly give us our biggest hit ever. Your kind of fire is just what we're always hoping for, but honestly we don't find it more than once in a blue moon. And on top of that, not only there are two of you with that special spark, but you're already friends. We're very excited. Usually it's the girls who beat down our door, but we'll take talent anywhere we can find it. We'd like to sign you to do the full-length movie we talked about."

Janie lets out a huge sigh; we both grin. We exchange high fives.

Almost in unison: "Thanks, Bob, thanks Mr. Inman!"

"Please, ladies, call me Ellis."

"Thanks, Ellis," I tell him, "you won't regret it. We are going to be good.

"I'm not betting against it," answers Ellis Inman.

"Well, then," Bob says, we'll set the ball in motion. Today is December 19th and you have to be back by January 5, which means you have to leave on the third or the fourth. You'll recall we had talked about doing your shoot next Monday, but I confess I forgot that was Christmas Eve. The day after New Year is a holiday, so we'll want to be all done before New Year's. The only potential problem I can see will be lining up enough of our regular "studs" to work during Christmas week. I don't think we can get all our ducks in a row before Christmas, and no one works the day after Christmas, so that leaves anytime between the 27th and the 30th. The 27th is a Thursday. If that's all right with you guys, I will get the early A.M. rental of the strip club changed to either the 27th or the 28th."

Ellis Inman chimes in, "We will have contracts ready for you to sign by tomorrow. You can have a couple of days to go over them. If you want to have them reviewed by an attorney, please feel free. We can recommend several who do this kind of contract review all the time, and they will be happy to supply references – many of our regular actors use them if and when their careers start to take off. But it's truly not necessary for you at this stage. Anyway, we'll need the contracts back within seventy-two hours, because if you guys decide to back out for any reason at all, we need enough advance notice before we unnecessarily waste a lot of peoples' time and effort. I'm sure you understand."

"Now, I have a little extra surprise for you. We liked your performances this morning so much, that we've also decided to use them, as segments in another composite film. And actually we can use a lot of the stills too. Of course, we will need your agreement to do that."

He passes us each a sealed envelope.

"Open those after you leave today. If you decide you're OK with releasing the footage from this morning, you can keep what's inside. By the way, 'Cassandra,'" he looks me in the eye, "nice little extra there, sucking off the cameraman."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Bet you thought it was really original, right? Well, don't let it go to your head. Freddie's gotten at least two dozen blowjobs filming auditions, and even had a few girls sit on his face or fuck him. It's perk of the job. In fact, since that started to happen, he got so used to being on camera as well as behind it, that now he sometimes doubles as a member of the gangbang crew whenever we need another guy."

"Oh," I mumble, more than somewhat deflated.

Bob joins in. "You guys are on your own till tomorrow morning. We'll use the small sound stage to set up a pole for you to practice your onstage stripping, and we'll have some good music for it. Get a g-string, shoes, and whatever else you want from Grace, and be at soundstage B at 10 A.M. We'll have your contracts ready for you by tomorrow, too. You can pick them up at my office at noontime. Enjoy your afternoon."

I've got one other thing on my mind.

"Uh, Bob, there's just one little snafu. I'm due to start my period tomorrow; practicing stripping that way isn't going to be too cool, if you know what I mean."

Bob strokes his chin. "I see," he says, "I should have thought of that. How about you, Janie, any problems in that regard?"

"Yeah, I should get mine about the 23rd," Janie replies, should be finished by the 27th.

"OK, well, no big problem really. Amy, just keep on whatever you have to, and save the bottomless for when your period's over. Janie, you can do the nude work tomorrow. You can watch and coach each other. Both of you should be OK to shoot by the 27th, but why don't we say the 28th just for good measure. That work for everyone?"

We both nod enthusiastically.

We decide to rent a car for the rest of our stay, which will give us more mobility and freedom of movement. From the beginning, except for that funky limo ride from the airport, I hadn't liked being dependent on Bob and the studio for transportation. We even find a rental company that will deliver a car to us right at the studio, and 45 minutes later we are out on our own in a white Mustang convertible. We decide to spend a couple of hours at a mall mostly browsing, then head back to the hotel for a little more pool time before dinner. As we're leaving the mall, it occurs to me that we have been so pre-occupied we've completely forgotten about the sealed envelops. Inside each envelope we find a cashier's check for twenty-five hundred dollars.

My period arrives as if on cue the next morning, but we are dutifully back at the studio by just after 9 A.M. We visit wardrobe again where Grace greets us cheerfully and gives us carte blanche. I get red leather hot pants and a filmy red bra, and Janie picks a black g-string with a side tie, and an almost-nothing strapless half-cup black see through bra, which is more for effect than for any support it can offer her. We both get a pair of clear Lucite platform shoes with six-inch heels. I will start off in a clingy red silk cover-up, and Janie chooses a black minidress with tiny spaghetti straps.

"One suggestion:" Grace ventures, "Of course you are welcome to use anything in our wardrobe department, and everything is antiseptic clean, believe me, but most of the girls have a few favorite personal items that they own and like to wear, especially g-strings which, after all, are kind of extra personal. You may want to do a little shopping while you're out here." Her point is well-taken and we both nod thoughtfully.

When we arrive at the soundstage, we get a big surprise. There, waiting for us in a purple warm-up suit is Natasha, the lithe blonde I recognize right away from the Wild Kitty Club. There's no one else on the set that I can see; we seem to have the place entirely to ourselves.

"Mr. Bob Davis ask me to share dancing pointers with you," says Natasha in her heavy east-European accent. I vill be, as you say, your den mutter for today, or longer if you neet. I am very goot dancer, other tings I understand you know better dan me already."

We take a couple of seats. I cross my legs and relax. Natasha flicks on the sound system and music blares from the multiple speakers. "I turn dis down," she says, "so dat you can hear me OK."

"First, secont, and tird, you selling sex. The whole time you dance, do not forget dis von ting. Dis means energy. If you giff off message you are not interested, of course men vill not be interested eeter. Vy shutt dey be? So remember please, alvays lot of energy. At end of dance you must sveat or is no goot. Den, you must haff de contact vit de eyes. Alvays ven you dance you look right in von man's eyes; you smile at him; you make him vont you so bad he can taste you. And den you dance just for him!" Dis is, how you say, mind-fuck. In four minute nude dance, you mind-fuck four different men in audience, you haff done goot. Girls fuck goot, dey can make goot money, you know dat. Mind-fuck is de same idea. Den you make your money ven you take dem in friction room." You come to club. You vatch girls dance. You see right avay vich girls know how to mind-fuck and vich do not."

I'm impressed already, and Natasha is still fully clad and hasn't danced a step yet. This is one savvy, foxy chick. Natasha pulls the purple sweatshirt over her head and steps out of the sweat pants. She's got on a jade green g-string and a matching bra. She doffs her sneakers and pulls a pair of extra high seven-inch platform heels out of a small dark blue duffle bag that has been sitting unobtrusively on the chair next to me. Natasha's just a few feet away from me, and the moment she puts on the shoes I'm once again amazed at just how extraordinarily they transform a girl's stature.

"OK, now you are on stage. De music starts, vot are you tinkin? You must make de biggest first impression; you get der attention; to do dis, you need fast movement, never de slow svaying like some girls do. De men haff to notice you. You vont de man to look up from his drink and his friends and vatch you instead. I tvirl around de pole fast several times; dis catches der eyes. You can kick you legs high or do some pole vork if you know how, but der must be lot of action. Energy! If you know de utter girl on stage vid you, you can do some tings togetter too. Bump and rub de pussies togetter, pretend de sixty-nine, votever you tink of. Dis is vile you still have bottom on. Vonce you nude, you have to be more careful wid the utter girl or you can get trouble. No tongue or finger in her, you know.

And vit de very high heels, you do not valk, you strut. Like fashion model on runvay, posture straight up and strut. Push breasts out. Remember, you six feet tall vit dees heels on you feet. "I show you now."

The music blares. Natasha swings around the pole; she's dazzlingly cat-like quick. She kicks high above her head, struts with the small of her back pulled in and breasts thrust brashly outward. She grinds to the beat – hips and pelvis in constant movement. It's the ultimate aerobics class; you could lose ten pounds in an hour doing this. Now she's looking me right in the eye. "Don't forget de eye contact," she shouts above the music.

She wraps her legs around the pole. "The pole is your man," Natasha calls, "you make love to your man." She holds the pole with both hands as high above her as she can reach and slides her groin up and down the pole, doing deep knee bends on those spike heels so the excursion up and down the pole is as exaggerated as possible. She lies on her stomach and hooks her g-string on one spiked heel, stretching it away from her such that it becomes buried in between her smooth shaved pussy lips. She flexes her knee and extends her lithe leg again and again so the stretched g-string in her pussy appears and disappears.

Exactly four minutes have elapsed and the music momentarily pauses. Natasha is glistening with perspiration, but she's in great shape, hardly even breathing hard. "Second song," she says, now you get naked.

The music starts up again. Still thrusting her hips, now she cups both breasts, teases the lacy edge of the bra cups down over both pouting nipples, so her perfect round breasts pop free, but she lets the displaced bra cling naughtily to her body for a few extra moments. I'm busy figuring she's a 34-C, all natural. Finally she unclasps the filmy bra and lets it falls away. One hand descends to the g-string tie and all it takes is the tiniest tug and it's off, dropping to the floor. She catches the g-string on one of the spiked shoes and kicks it away in my direction.

Completely nude, Natasha's lovemaking with the shiny brass pole seems to take on a new dimension. She's actually fucking the thing. It's half insinuating itself between her labia as she rubs herself up and down on it. The pole looks wet. I'm wet myself from watching this. The girl lies on her back, arches it, and fucks some imaginary lover. She pats her little mound a few times, then slides two licked fingers between her labia, and closes her eyes with mouth wide open in a look of the sheerest ecstasy. When she opens her eyes again, she's boring right into mine. I feel like taking her right there and now on the stage, and I'm a girl! She crosses and uncrosses those long legs, all the while with that moistened cunt beckoning right at us. No wonder men love strip clubs, what man couldn't love this?

Finally the music stops. It's only been eight minutes total. I'm mesmerized.

"So," Natasha smiles, "you get de idea? Now it your turn."

With what Natasha clearly expects, there's no way I am going to be able to participate today with my period, so Janie's the whole cast for the morning. She's an exhibitionist anyway, but the dance moves are more of a matter of timing and it is definitely going to take a bit of practice. In her little black minidress Janie would look coquettish like she's off to some trendy party, but the Lucite stripper shoes are just a bit too slutty for that image. In this milieu however, they're essentially a sine qua non – a kind of ticket of admission into this particular sisterhood.

Natasha flicks on the music. Janie remembers to "strut" over to the pole, grasps it and begins to twirl around it, but her feet get tangled up, she loses her grip on the pole, and she tumbles backward right on her keister. Natasha kills the music. "No, no Yanie," she instructs, "you crossed feet. You strut around pole, just like you strut everyvere else on stage, or you lift feet off stage completely and sving, but never cross feet on stage; vith dees high heels you ask for trouble."

It's not the most auspicious start, Janie's embarrassed, and I don't want to laugh but Natasha can't hide her amusement and all three of us wind up sharing a good laugh. No harm, no foul, and it's actually been a great ice-breaker. Janie shakes it off and immediately looks more relaxed. Whatever tension there was has vanished, and we've both picked up a valuable tip to boot.

Natasha starts the music again. This time Janie gets the spin move perfect. She slips slinkily out of her little minidress, revealing her black g-string and nothing bra. She does the whole bit, the sliding, reaching up the pole, spreading, fondling, mock masturbation, even the stretched g-string in the pussy bit. She's really a natural. And on top of all that she remembers to keep eye contact with me, her only audience, and of course I reciprocate.

"Very good," Natasha says stopping the music, "but could use even more energy. Energy level must be highest you can do. Don't stop moving while you take off clothes. But not bad, Yanie, not bad. Now you strip." She starts the music again.

This time Janie gets the whole thing down without a hitch. Her energy output is noticeably elevated, and Natasha watches intently but says nothing as Janie undoes the bra, caresses her breasts, loosens the g-string, and completes the number stark nude, including the on-the-back pussy-flashing, leg crossing, moist-finger clit rub, everything Natasha demonstrated. A quick study indeed. She's put in one good aerobic workout, and her lovely body glistens accordingly with sweat.

Natasha is delighted. "You can do dis right now," she says. "You practice de spinning and posture and strutting a little more so it become second nature, but you could dance in club now. In fact, you come and do part shift in club dis evening, ya?"

"Do you think that's really necessary?" Janie asks. I'm wondering the same thing.

"Not necessary," Natasha replies, "but cannot hurt, and helpful for your movie to know vorkings and layout of club vell beforehand. Mr. Davis suggest dis.

"What the hell," Janie says resolutely, "why not?"

"You don't need to vork full eight-hour shift, just strip two sets on stage, and visit tables for few nude private dances; also try few lap dances in friction room.

"Sounds like a lark," says Janie.

Natasha turns to me. "So Amy, you try dis now?"

I'm disappointed that I can't comply, although I had intended to try at least something without removing the hot pants. But my flow is always heavy on my first day, and despite an extra-absorbent tampon, this unexpectedly energetic athletic activity will not have a good outcome, I know from embarrassing experience.

"I'm sorry," Natasha, "I just started my period today, and I'll have to wait at least a day or two before I can give this the energy level it needs, even with clothes on."

"OK, then dat is it for dis morning. Yanie, I see you in club dressing room at eight o'clock tonight. Amy, you come and vatch if you like."

It is not yet 11 AM and we have to pick up our contracts at Bob's office at noon, after which we'll have the whole afternoon to ourselves. We check the yellow pages and take up most of the hour to visit a local branch of the same bank we use back at school, where we have no trouble cashing the cashier's checks.

We find Bob in his office when we get there and there are two legal size manila envelopes on his desk, with just our first names on pink memo notes paper-clipped to them.

"Here you go, ladies," he says, "please read these through. They're pretty straight-forward and you'll find there's nothing hidden in legalese or ultra-small print. But in the envelopes there is a list of a few good local attorneys if you feel you'd like to go that route. There's also a release form that gives us exclusive rights to use your footage from yesterday morning. I assume you liked the contents of the envelopes I gave you."

"Willow, (apparently we're going to be back in character from now on) Natasha already told me what a great student you were this morning, and that you're going to do the Wild Kitty this evening. Hang loose and have a lot of fun there. The place is very friendly and you'll do just fine. Cassandra, go along and enjoy the evening, and you can have a try there any time after you are physically able and Natasha feels you've got the moves down OK. I've talked with the owners of the club, and we are a definite for the night of the 28th, which is actually the early AM of the 29th. They're letting us set up starting right after closing, and we should be able to start the shoot by 3 AM, or shortly thereafter as long as there are no unforeseen snafus. After tonight you're free until Cassandra's session with Natasha, and you can set that up directly with her. One of you let the studio know when you need your two hours on soundstage B again. Here's Natasha's cell phone number."

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