Hollyquirk Studios: Week 00

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On the set, everyone's getting laid but the director.
5.3k words
4.08
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 08/31/2017
Created 04/04/2007
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deathlynx
deathlynx
295 Followers

Hollyquirk Studios: Week 0 (Pre-production)

Maxwell McGrath looked around his new office with pride. Although most of the pre-production legwork was already done, the studio had only finally gotten around to giving him an office to work out of. Although they claimed they had been waiting for the space to become available, Max suspected it had more to do with ensuring the project would actually get to this stage. He'd had to sooth some egos, more than once, to keep the movie on track, but that was little consideration.

This was it, at last. After years of directing commercials, and the occasional rock video, he finally had a chance at the movies. Max collapsed into the comfortable chair, behind the solid wood desk;his desk! While the desk was impressive, it wasn't the piece of furniture he was most excited about. Ever since he'd become a director, the leather couch, with delightfully soft cushions, had sat in his basement in anticipation of this day.

It was his 'casting couch.' Commercials had mostly been small time, nothing big enough to warrant lewd acts to get a role. Besides, most of the commercials he'd done centered around kids and animals, and he certainly wasn't perverse enough to take interest in that. While the music videos showed promise, all of the attractive young women sought the beds of the musicians themselves. He barely merited listening to when he tried to clear the set of all of the groupies.

No. This was it! This was his chance, not only to make a name for himself, but maybe get a little action in the process. As if on cue, the intercom on his phone buzzed. "Mr. McGrath?" Who else would be listening in his office? Patience had seen him come in, alone. "Your first appointment is here Mr. McGrath." Patience, his personal assistant, was a sweet kid and he could hear the pride in her voice that rivaled his own.

Max glanced down at his desk to see a folder sat in the center of his blotter. A quick glance at the tab told him the appointment was a 'Tufts, Tiffany.' He flipped open the folder even as he reached to press the intercom button. "Send her in, if you would." A very attractive blond smiled up at him from the head-shot in the open folder. That told him all he really needed to know. This was a last minute interview for an extra. He couldn't quite keep the twinkle from his eye as he grinned at the couch. Thoughts of christening it properly, during his first appointment, floated through his head. That was probably why he had scheduled the woman so early.

The door opened and he knew, with certainty, that it had been exactly what he had intended. Max had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping. Her head-shot didn't do her justice. He was pretty sure no camera in the world would ever do her justice, but that was fine with him. He rather preferred the view he had. Her long, blond, hair cascaded across her shoulders and fell halfway down her back. When she reached up to tuck it behind her ears, the smooth, clear, features of her face shined; full red lips and deep blue eyes in delightful contrast.

But it was far more than that which almost stole the muscle control in his jaw. She dressed to enhance her hourglass figure. Her large breasts strained against the skintight shirt. The dark circles of her areola shone through the thin white fabric. In the cool spring weather, her nipples thrust forward and left nothing to the imagination.

Her pants spoke just as eloquently, including the knowledge that she didn't wear so much as a scrap of underwear. The elastic material clung to her every curve from just below her tiny bellybutton all the way down to just below her knees. From that point, he barely noticed, the legs swept out into bellbottoms. His attention was focused, as she'd intended it to be, directly between her legs. As tight as the material was, even the vague bulge of her clit could be seen.

Max hurried to stand as she took her first steps into his office. There was nothing he hated more than the Hollywood types who ignored the simple courtesies out of a sense of power play. When someone came into his office, for an appointment, he intended to greet them properly. Unfortunately, his khaki's shifted uncomfortably and he realized if he moved to the door, to see her in, she would realize exactly how pleased he was to see her. He let the desk mask some of his guilt and leaned far over to shake her hand.

Tiffany leaned much farther across the desk than was strictly necessary. Max certainly didn't mind, as it brought her cleavage, framed by her low neckline, much closer for his inspection. He knew he'd chosen his first appointment perfectly. He dragged his eyes upwards, to meet hers, and was surprised by a flash of mixed disappointment and insult. He smiled as he let his gaze wander, on it's own, back down her body. By the way her shoulders relaxed slightly, this was exactly how she wanted to have a conversation with him. "Ms. Tufts. Thank you for stopping by so early. Please, have a seat."

Max scooped the file from his desk and pretended to flip through it as he watched her. Tiffany glanced over her shoulder and realized, apparently, that the chair was too far for her liking. When she turned, he got his first look at her tight, firm, ass. She bent over, to move the chair an inch closer to the desk. The tight fabric not only accented the round cheeks, but even pressed inwards enough to give hints to supple lips. His cock pressed firmly against the constraining fabric of his boxers and jeans.

By the time she turned around and sat, the pretense of the folder was forgotten. He stared in naked desire at her crotch. Her knees wiggled open and closed slightly as she shifted position in the seat. Finally, she slumped into the chair in defeat. The position left her legs wide open and the fabric pulled so tight he could identify the exact spot he soon hoped to position himself. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to get comfortable in this chair, do you mind if I move over to the couch? It looks far more comfortable."

Max knew for a fact that the chair was almost impossible to beuncomfortable in. At the same time, he wasn't about to object to getting her on the couch so quickly. "Feel free." He waved a hand in the general direction of the couch. As she got up and walked over, he got a very nice image of her ass swaying with each step. He had to resist the urge to bring his fingers up in mimicry of the camera view. Yes, that ass definitely belonged on the big screen.

The moment she sat, she patted the couch next to her. Although the invitation was the most blatant sign of her desire, he still had to go through the motions for propriety's sake. The folder came back out and he began to 'study' it, as he rounded the desk. He heard a growl and his eyes flickered over to her. Her gaze was intent on his crotch. For the first time, it seemed like she might have lost a little of her control. The soft growl had not sounded feigned. He decided to play it a little, to see how she reacted.

Max leaned against his desk with his ankles crossed. "You have a decent resume. Most of the professional credits are commercials, but that's not necessarily prohibitive." He kept glancing up. Each glimpse only refreshed his erection. Her breasts seemed about to explode from her shirt as she had leaned forward slightly. She never noticed his looks, however, as her attention could have burned right through his pants. "What kind of role were you hoping for?"

Startled by the direct question, Tiffany's head snapped up to meet his collected gaze. Max was about to repeat the question when she shook her head and turned back to him, her poise once more in complete control. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't like a large role, but I'm mostly just looking for a part. I'll take anyposition you think I can handle."

Max swallowed reflexively at the suggestive purr in her voice. He pushed off the desk to stand, very aware that his condition showed acutely. He opened his mouth to speak when her tongue dragged across her red lips. It took him a couple of tries to find the breath to speak. "Well, you know this business, you have to start at the bottom and work your way to the top."

Somehow, Tiffany managed so slip off the couch, and onto her knees, gracefully. On hands and knees, she stalked the few feet to kneel before him. He couldn't help but be aware that her breasts were now the perfect height to completely envelope him, were both of them naked. Likewise, his body realized her lips, that now constantly moistened themselves, could just as easily sink down to swallow him whole. "Ilike starting at the bottom. I find it very fulfilling."

Tiffany grinned as the bulge in his pants pulsed at her. Her hands reached up and began to slowly unclasp his belt. Max leaned back, with his hands heavily on the edge of the desk. Practiced fingers made quick work of the button and then nimbly slid the zipper down, even as she maneuvered his pants from his hips. His cock sprang forward, but missed the fly, to create a very drastic tent of his boxers. Tiffany's grin was wide, and very toothy, as she discovered the prize she had unleashed. She leaned forward and he felt her teeth graze lightly across his tip, with only the fabric a hindrance.

"Mr. McGrath?" Max's heart nearly stopped as Patience's voice intruded. A glance down showed that Tiffany had pulled back slightly, but her mouth still formed a very suggestive "O" as she began to suck on a well manicured finger. Her eyes laughed at the turn of events. Max was anything but amused. His balls burned with need. He was so worked up, he felt like a vice had grabbed him and continued to crank tighter. "Mr. McGrath, are you there?"

Max jabbed the intercom button. "Yes Patience, I'm here. But I told you not to disturb me when I'm in a...Yip!" Without freeing him from the silk boxers, Tiffany's mouth slid around his head and plunged to his very base. Max took his finger off the intercom for a moment to struggle to keep the moan from his breath. Finally he could talk, if a bit breathy. "Not when I'm in a meeting." This time the moan did escape as her tight mouth pulled back.

"I'm sorry sir. I wouldn't normally. I understand how...important...your privacy is in meetings, but the producer is here and insists on seeing you immediately."

Max's finger slipped from the button again. "Oh God!" Even he wasn't sure whether it was because of Tiffany's maddening actions or the sure knowledge that he was about to be inundated with another crisis. "Can't...can't she...waitafewminutes....at least?" The vice had begun to loosen and he was sure another minute in that hot, wet, mouth would leave him completely relaxed, and ready to deal with whatever Kara was about to dump on him.

"I'm sorry Max. Miss! Miss! You can't just go in there!"

"Like hell I can't!" Max could hear Kara both over the intercom and through the closed door. He panicked. Even though he burned with need, he threw himself backward and out of a surprised Tiffany's mouth. He jerked his pants back up and barely got the button and belt closed as he jumped behind the desk. Frantic, he motioned Tiffany to stand. With maddening slowness, she did.

The door slammed open to find Tiffany standing before the desk, and Max behind. Both turned to see the redhead enter. The executive producer had every bit as many curves as Tiffany, and they were all in the right places. Her breasts might be a bit smaller, but not so much as to be a hindrance. In fact, Max reflected, the well-to-do woman probably had considerably less back problems than the aspiring actress.Of course, not having to spend time of her knees, bent over a director's dick would also account for some of that. No, Kara didn't kiss anything of Max's. In fact she expected him to do the kissing.

Max turned to Tiffany. "As I was saying, Ms. Tufts, we have a number of scenes for you. If you could speak to my assistant, I'm sure she'll get you up to speed." He leaned across the desk and shook her hand once more. Tiffany's eyes glittered as she smiled at him and then turned to leave. Kara's smile, as the young actress passed her, was about as fake as any Max had ever seen. The executive's eyes called the actress a whore as loudly as her voice ever could. Max flopped back into his comfortable chair. He flinched slightly as his swollen balls shifted between his legs. "And what couldn't wait for a couple of minutes?"

"Me!" Kara Evercum crossed the room and took the seat on the other side of the desk. Max had to admit that she was hot. Her gray skirt-suit complimented her hair wonderfully. At the same time, it clung to her body almost as tightly as Tiffany's outfit had. The only difference was that hers had the class to actually obscure the very areas that inflamed his already pained lust. He needed to get this over and done with so he could, at least, run to the private bathroom and jack off.

"Well, since you couldn't wait a couple of minutes, I'm assuming you're here on business and not to ask me on a date?"

"Zip up before you make any more suggestive statements." Max glanced down, then quickly zipped his pants. He was about stammer out an explanation when she held up a hand. "Look, I know how the business works. It's a power thing, and not just the guys go for it. I've known some women who can't control themselves around the bodice-ripper types who walk through their door. The only difference is, guys don't usually know how to suck clit worth shit!"

Max turned beet red. "Well, at least you still have enough decency to be embarrassed about it. Given this is your first big gig, I'd bet she was your first." He couldn't keep eye contact. He sensed, more than saw, her lean forward. "Wow! I'm sorry, I really did interrupt didn't I?" Max's eyes snapped back to hers in time to see her pale skin flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, just thought you'd have...I thought you and she...I thought she would be...Oh, God! Shut your fucking mouth now Kara."

Max had pity on her. Kara was, at heart, a decent woman. "I certainly would have liked to. But you know how it looks. These days, men in power get scrutinized. Anything happens, consensual or not, the guy will eventually find himself up on harassment charges. Why? Because that's where the big bucks are."

"Sleep your way to the top, then earn a fat bonus check by lawsuit?" Max nodded at Kara's assessment. "I hate that shit as much as the fuckers who make a girl blow him for a mere slot as an extra." Max fought to keep the guilt from his face. "Anyway, I'm here because the head of the studio wanted a few minor changes to the script. He thinks there should be more sex and comedy to it."

"Are you fuckingkidding me!?! It's a modern daywar movie! The name of the fucking thing is'Tragic Tactics,' for Christ's sake, and he want's more comedy!?! And sex? Aside from the extras, there's only two women in the entire film, and one of them is a nun! What, does he want Dirk to make two of the soldiersgay?" Kara's expression suddenly changed to very thoughtful. Frighteningly so. "No! Don't even think it!"

"Why not? The publicity alone would be worth millions. And that's before the Christian or military groups started to protest. Besides, movies with gays in them are almost guaranteed Oscars.Your first movie could be an award winner."

Kara had hit a nerve with that one, enough so that the thought slipped into his brain to percolate. "All right, you're right about the reaction. And I know, it's the studio's decision about the other stuff. But I know how Dirk is going to react. YOU know how he's going to react." She nodded and Max deflated. "Which is why you want me, as usual, to tell him."

Kara's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Oh, don't give me that Kara. I know you're fucking him. It was you who broughtme the script, remember? Usually it goes up the chain, not jumps around it. The writer bring it to me and I beg a producer. When a writer's gotten it to a producer already, he's gotta be banging someone special. In your case I knew it was you by the way your eyes glow when you talk about him. Well, except when you tell me changes need to be made. So yes, I know you're in love with him, and yes, I'll be the bad guy and sooth out the ruffled feathers with no mention of you."

Kara sank back into the chair with a relieved smile. The ice-cold bitch persona melted away. "Thank you Max. You don't know how much this means. He's a wonderful man, but just so touchy about his baby." She got up and was almost to the door when she spun to face him once more. "And we are going to tell people soon, we just want to wait until post production, late in filming at the earliest, so it can look like we hooked up here."

"Just one condition!" Kara's eyes narrowed as she became the ice-bitch once more. "Next time, if I ask you for 'a few minutes' so I can finish business with someone, please have the courtesy of some respect? I actually do business here, and even though everyone knows the producer has final say, it doesn't do my credibility any good to toss that business aside on a spur of the moment." Max had to admit, she really was even more attractive when she blushed in embarrassment. He didn't want to make her feel bad, but he needed to be respected by the actors and crew, at the very least. Okay, so he hadn't been preparing for business this time, but in the future he probably would. He accepted her nod with a smile. She was always good to her word.

Max's head crashed forward, onto the desk, the moment she closed the door behind her. He was not looking forward to the phone call. He knew he should do it in person, but he simply didn't have the guts to face down the temperamental artist in full, living, color. Blindly, his finger punched the intercom button. He knew his voice was muffled by the desk, but Patience would understand him anyway. She always did.

"Patience? Could you please get Dirk Dullwood on the phone?" As the rush of excitement drained from his body, the vice slowly returned to remind him his body had issue that needed to be dealt with. "Make that five minutes would you?"

"No problem Mr. McGrath." Max barely, heard as he hobbled to the bathroom. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't care if he's the president of the United Fucking States of America! How the hell am I supposed todo that?" Blood raced as Dirk yelled into the phone.

"It's your gift Dirk! I don't know many people who could figure it out, but you're a genius with these kinds of requests. Besides, the gay angle could win you an Oscar easily!"

Dirk sighed heavily as a shudder ran through his body. "All right, I'll think about it. Hell! Who am I kidding? Either I do this or he'll get a chimp for the rewrite and then we're both screwed. Just make sure this is the lasttime Max!" The phone crashed onto its cradle. "God! More changes! A week until we start filming and they want me to rewrite? How am I supposed to handle that?"

The wet, pink, lips slid up his strained dick. He slipped free of the succulent mouth with an audible 'pop.' The head tilted back, and Dirk was favored with the sight of bright green eyes, framed by luxurious, wavy, brown, hair. "You're tense Dirky-poo. Sit back, relax, and I'll make it all better!" The pouty lips pursed, then opened to slip back around his hard cock.

Dirk collapsed into his chair with a theatrical sigh. Cassy had refused to stop her meal simply because the phone rang. Frankly, he wouldn't have asked if it hadn't been Max. As it was, that was the only person he feared would realize what was truly going on. Hell, the bastard probably had a slut under his own desk during the call. Still, Dirk thought he deserved an Oscar for turning all of the moans and screams of delight into some semblance of feigned anger.

deathlynx
deathlynx
295 Followers
12