Our Journey into Darkness Pt. 02

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glanglais
glanglais
11 Followers

And I did -- I blew it right in her face. She closed her eyes when I arched my back as I felt my testicles literally drain, the thick fluid pulsating past my prostate. She didn't flinch as the first three streams shot out and landed on her face, and kept pumping until the last of it had drained from my body.

I closed my eyes as she caressed my shaft and testicles for several more seconds before giving my dick a final kiss, standing, and going to the bathroom as I lay there spent. Something landed on me and I opened my eyes to see that she had tossed a hand-towel to me to clean up the sticky mess she had made of me.

After she had cleaned up I wanted to return the favour. She actually doesn't like receiving oral, and I've learned how to work her over really well with a dildo, but she wouldn't have it and we fell asleep spooning.

The first thing I did before breakfast the next morning was to go down to the front desk and interrogate the staff about the missing fax. It still had not arrived. Liz was pretty pissed when I told her.

"Fuck it," she stated flatly. "Ten thousand dollars, my ass. Let's go eat."

We went down to the breakfast buffet for eggs benedict and home fries. While we were sipping coffee I asked Liz for Chappelle's card and phoned his office number.

I was a little surprised when a woman answered the phone.

"Brett Chapel's office," she greeted me, again pronouncing his name as "Chapel".

"Mr. Chappelle..." geez. I shook my head subconsciously. "Mr. 'Chapel', please."

"I'm sorry but he's on a commercial shoot this morning. May I ask who's calling?"

"I'm calling on behalf of..." and I gave Elizabeth's full name. "She's reading this morning and we haven't received the script. Brett said that he was going to fax it to our hotel last night."

"Oh! Um... Sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Can we have Brett's cell number?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. I'll try to phone him immediately. What's your hotel and room number?"

"Please have him phone my cell directly," and I gave her my name and cell number.

"That's good thinking," Liz acknowledged as I placed my phone on the table and sat back.

Only a few minutes later I smiled triumphantly at her as the phone rang.

"I'm sorry, Steve," Chappelle's receptionist began, "but it looks like Mr. Chapel's phone is off. He must already be on location. I've left a message with your phone number on his voice-mail."

"Any idea?" I asked tersely.

"When he'll return your call? I'm afraid not. Your best bet of speaking with him today is to go down to the shoot location."

"Can you give me the address again, please?" I asked her, flipping over the card.

"No; I'm sorry," she told me bluntly. "We get calls from looky-loos all the time. If you don't know where it is then you're not supposed to be there."

She was good. I liked her.

"Brett gave me this address last night," I went on to explain, then I gave her the address on the back of the card and asked her if she would at least confirm that as being the shoot location for the commercial.

"Yes," I could actually hear her smiling on the other end of the phone. "That's it. Good luck!"

"Thanks," I said politely before hanging up.

I relayed the missing bits of the conversation to Liz who just sighed. After several moments she said, "God damn it," then stood up.

"Where you going?" I asked.

"To get ready!"

"You're going? Without seeing the script?" I asked in surprise.

"Ten thousand dollars!" she reminded me with frustration in her voice. "Just the smell of ten grand is worth the trip across town." Then she kind-of half shrugged and conceded, "and this could be really good for me."

I always laugh when she gets ready to go on one of these things. When we go out together she looks like a model, but when she's actually going on a modelling job she looks exactly the opposite, wearing this dumpy, loose-fitting clothing so as not to have clothing marks on her skin before she dresses for the runway or whatever shoot she's doing.

And she insisted that I come with her, regardless of Chappelle's 'no baggage' restriction. And, instead of our usual taxi, that we rent a car for the day in case we needed to make a quick getaway.

I don't know if she was suspicious or just cautious, but she was certainly being very prudent in inviting me to a shoot, even if just this one time.

As it turns out the location was not across town but only a few blocks away, down Sahara on either Decatur or South Jones; I forget which. I got the rental from the rental desk at the front of the hotel. We were going to be late so we really had to boogie.

When we arrived at the address there were several vehicles parked in the parking lot. I noticed the two "rent-a-cops" at a side entrance of the building and decided to start there rather than at the front.

"Hi, guys," I started. "We're here for the commercial. Is Brett Chappelle here?"

"Name?" asked one of the security guards. He had a clipboard.

I gave him Elizabeth's full name.

"Sorry, you're not here. I can't let you in today."

Liz produced Brett's business card with the address on the back. "I was only asked to come down here last night," she explained. "I'm probably not on the list."

The guard examined the card, then sighed and looked narrowly at her. He seemed to be weighing the possibility of being fired for letting someone in who shouldn't be there against the possibility of being fired for not letting someone in who should be there!

"Alright," he finally decided, rubbing his forehead. Then to his partner, "Take them straight to Malcolm, I guess."

So we were taken inside to the director who's name was apparently Ian Malcolm.

"You're the replacement!" he accused. "Good! I thought we were wasting our time getting set up today."

"Sorry," Liz apologized.

"Is Brett Chappelle here?" I asked.

"Brett told us we should talk to him first as soon as we arrive" Elizabeth explained.

"No, he's not here yet," the director conceded with a perturbed look on his face. "He should be here in a few minutes. We're still getting things lined up and right now I need you to go in there and have a seat for a few minutes. Can you do that for me, honey?"

"Yeah, sure," she answered equivocally.

We walked onto what was apparently the set.

There were several lights with those umbrella-like reflectors that photographers use, three cameras, some people milling around, one was a sound guy, and a hot tub with a plain backdrop and some potted palms and other plants around it.

"Ready to leave yet?" I asked sardonically as I looked around. Something about just walking into this place was getting my testosterone going.

Elizabeth just smiled as she sat on the edge of a tall stool.

"So should I call you 'sweetie' or 'honey'," I asked her sarcastically.

"I know," she acknowledged the misogyny. "Occupational hazard. It's better just to go with it."

I snorted disdainfully. Within a couple of minutes a short, mousey, but not unpersonable woman in her late thirties or early forties sauntered up to us with a clipboard.

"Hi," she greeted us pleasantly. "I'm Bailey: Continuity. You the new girl?"

"Yes," Elizabeth acknowledged.

"Did you get the revised script?" she asked.

"I haven't even seen the unrevised script," Elizabeth laughed.

"You haven't seen the script?! Jeez... Ian!"

The director had just finished talking to one of the cameramen and was walking past when Bailey hailed him.

"Problem?" he asked flatly as if problems were all he had been hearing all morning.

"She hasn't even seen a copy of the script yet," she stated wryly.

Malcolm looked at her. "Well," he began. "You've done this before?" he asked.

"First time," Elizabeth answered honestly. "I've been modelling for several years, though."

Malcolm seemed to consider this for a few moments. "This isn't exactly Shakespeare," he finally declared. "These things usually end up going wall-to-wall anyway, so don't worry about the script. It's pretty straight-forward; I'm sure you can handle it." Then to Bailley, "Get her info, get her signed up, then get her dressed. I'll talk to Chapel about this later. I'm getting tired of his 'last-minute' bullshit on every shoot."

"You got some ID, hun?" Bailley asked. Liz produced her driver's license, the number of which Bailley scribbled down on her clipboard.

"Ohio, huh?" she smiled wryly. "Well, at least you're not from Utah!" she smiled at her own cryptic joke. Liz and I just looked at each other.

Bailley then showed us the Green Room. Elizabeth was impressed. There was a meat and cheese tray, a three-tiered fruit plate, orange juice, and even several bottles of champagne. She remarked that there was no bottled water, and that there were a lot more calories in this Green Room than she was accustomed to seeing on her average modelling job.

"We need to get you dressed," Bailley told her. "You look pretty nervous. Why don't you pour yourself a champagne and we'll find you a bathing suit." Then smiling at me Bailley added, "You can wait here."

Liz never drinks before a shoot, but she surprised me by pouring herself a mimosa. A strong mimosa, with a bit more champagne than orange juice.

While she was in wardrobe I poured myself a champagne and helped myself to the cheese. I managed to have two glasses of champagne before Liz returned to the Green Room. She was covered with a robe and accompanied by a dark-haired woman a little shorter than her.

"Wanna see?" she asked with a smile.

"Sure!" I replied enthusiastically.

She parted her robe to show me a white bikini bathing suit with a blue floral print. I don't know if it was her blonde hair or her blue eyes, but she looked amazing.

"Nice!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.

She introduced me to Karen -- makeup and wardrobe -- and we all sat around talking about nothing. A few minutes later Bailley came back into the room.

"This is the contract, and this is the release. That's a lot of cash, hun!"

"I don't even know what I'm doing yet," Liz protested, skimming over the contract.

"I know you're nervous, hun" Bailley said consolingly. "I've seen it a hundred times. You'll be fine. Once you get out there you'll know exactly what to do. Don't let the camera intimidate you. We're all professionals here. Our job is to make you look good."

"Thanks," Liz said gratefully, although obviously still nervous. She seemed to consider what Bailley had said, then quickly signed both the contract and the release.

"Remember," Bailley told her, "this doesn't lock you into anything. You can back out at any time. Okay?"

I think Liz just kind-of nodded, then Bailley was gone.

Liz poured herself another mimosa.

"Nervous?" I asked with a smile.

"Very," she answered.

"That's your second," I reminded her.

"And I can barely keep my knees steady," she told me. "It's just champagne."

Malcolm popped his head into the room. "You dressed? Good. If you're ready why don't we get started. Bring that with you, if you like," he added, indicating the champagne cocktail.

We went back to the set. I asked about Chappelle again, but he still had not arrived. He didn't seem very reliable. Or well-liked.

"Let's start with some stills," Malcolm suggested and they started up the hot-tub.

Obviously this was an advertising shoot for a hot tub company. Liz stood in front of and around the hot tub, laying on the deck in different poses, positioning her hands at it as if presenting it to someone, all the while the photographer snapped pics. Liz did great as still photography is what she was accustomed to.

All the time I sat in a tall, backed stool and watched.

Twenty minutes and probably two hundred pictures later Malcolm called a break. They turned off the hot tub.

"I'm sorry that everyone is running behind today," he said to Elizabeth as I joined her. "When our girl quit yesterday we cancelled the shoot. We were really lucky to find you at the last minute, but we're having trouble rounding everyone up, and everybody's running behind. We're just waiting for one more guy."

Chappelle, I thought. It seemed redundant to speak with him now, though.

As Elizabeth put her robe back on, Karen, the makeup/wardrobe girl, walked in. She was now also wearing a robe over her own bikini, and she had two glasses of champagne. She walked over to us and handed Liz one of the glasses.

"Thanks," said Liz, although she didn't really seem to want it. After several moments Liz asked, "So we're performing together?"

"Oh, no!" she laughed. "I just gopher and make sure the guys are ready for their shots," she said with a wink.

I smirked and nodded in agreement. I've met some of Liz' male model friends and it was true: women tended to take care of themselves on set, but male models can't seem to tie their own shoes without help.

Bailley came over. "Finish that up, hun. Ace is here and we'll be ready to go in about ten minutes."

"Ace"! Pf! Of course that must be Chappelle, but like I said, talking to him didn't seem as imperative now so I let it slide. It figured they'd call him "Ace"!

"Okay, everyone!" Malcolm called. "We're going to start. Clear the set!"

I gave Liz a kiss on the cheek. "I'm very proud of you," I told her encouragingly. "You're going to be great."

She gave me a quick hug and I went back to my stool. Malcolm walked past me and jerked his head to indicate that I should follow him off the set. Which, of course, I did!

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"Gallery," he said simply.

We went next door to a room marked "Studio C Production". Once I walked in I quickly realized that this is the room from which Malcolm would be directing the commercial. There were two technicians, one each at what I'm assuming were the video and sound control boards. One had a bunch of monitors and the other vaguely resembled the sound board that the DJ used when we did live performances at the bar -- but far more complicated.

"Camera 2, wake up," Malcolm barked into his headset.

Camera 2 had been pointing at a potted plant. Several moments after Malcolm spoke, it swung around and focused on the hot tub. Malcolm puttered around a bit, asking for sound checks, and asked Camera 2 to shift his position 10ft to the right, ostensibly to get a better angle. "Gaff that cable again when you're done," he reminded someone.

"Okay, people!" he announced. "I think we're ready. Five minutes!"

He took his headset off and left the room. One of the cameras swung around to focus on Liz. The makeup girl appeared to be bringing her yet another champagne, but she had sense to politely decline with a wave of her hand.

Malcolm walked up and I could see him talking but couldn't hear. I asked the sound guy, "Is there a headset I can use to listen?" He waved indifferently toward a set of headphones at one end of the console. I retrieved them and plugged into the jack he indicated.

"...sitting in the hot tub. The two guys walk out on the deck, take off their robes, then climb into the hot tub beside you."

"But I haven't seen the script!" she reminded him.

"That can't be helped. Don't worry about it. We usually end up ad-libbing anyway. The guys can carry the dialogue. Follow their cues. You just be yourself for now and we'll refine it as we go. This isn't going to come together in one take, anyway. Feel free to joke or flirt or whatever. Innuendo is okay. Here they are! It's about time!" he exclaimed. "Here they come now."

Elizabeth's look of confusion at his turn of conversation was replaced as she put her hand to her mouth in surprise. When she took it away she was biting both her lips between her teeth the way women sometimes do when surprised.

"Oh that's funny," she finally stated. "Well," she said, turning back to Malcolm, "at least this will really make my boyfriend's day!"

Into view of the camera walked two black guys, one tall and somewhat lanky, the other heavier, more stocky. I felt my heart begin to beat more quickly.

"...will really make my boyfriend's day" she had said. This was in reference to a fantasy I had shared with her, of me watching her being ravaged by a pair of well-endowed black men. It was probably my biggest fantasy, in fact, but of course far too taboo for me to ever contemplate actually doing.

Still, this whole situation would give me spank fodder for months!

The two black guys walked up to Malcolm and Elizabeth.

"This the new girl?" one asked. He had a slight Jamaican or Bahamian accent.

"Oh god," Liz said, bowing her face into her hand at the irony of the situation. Then she looked up into Camera 1, obviously thinking that I was watching her.

Jamaican held out his hand, introducing himself as Demonte. "You made it worth getting out of bed to come down here," he told her, then kissed her hand. She dramatically waved her hand in front of her face as if going to faint at his own dramatic politeness. Then: "I'm Elizabeth," she introduced herself.

"Ace," said the other guy simply. He sounded 100% American. "Do you prefer 'Jessie' or just 'Liz'?" he asked.

"Elizabeth," she said pointedly. "I feel like I'm making a Girls Gone Wild video," she joked.

"No," Malcolm responded to that. "That's another guy."

Elizabeth laughed at his flat sense of humour.

I heard another voice in the background that caught Demonte's attention. Then he turned back to Liz and exclaimed, "No script?! What monkey is runnin' dis circus?" he joked loudly.

"Just be yourself and it will all fall into place. Trust me," Malcolm concluded. Then they all walked out of scene.

Several seconds later Malcolm walked back into the control room and put his headset back on. With my headset on I could hear what was happening on the set, but I couldn't hear what was going on in the control room, so I moved one phone away from my ear so that I could hear both sides.

Malcolm was saying, "... your places, please. This will be our first take. Bailley? ... Good. Okay. Is that something on the stairs? Camera 1 zoom into the stairs. Bailley get that glass, please. ... No, on the stairs. ... Ready? Wait -- that's a good idea. Get a tray with three glasses of champagne and put it on the deck behind the tub. Clean glasses!"

As he waited he looked around the room. When his eyes met mine he seemed to suddenly remember that I was there. "Oh, uh -- how does she handle her liquor?"

How does she what? Then I remembered that she had at least two mimosas and possibly a champagne.

"She's a bartender," I answered.

"A bartender," he stated flatly with a look of confusion. Then he shrugged it off.

"C'mon, people!" he barked into the headset. "Chop chop! Mush mush! Imshi imshi!"

We waited another full minute or two.

"Tell her 'yes'," he said into the headset. "We ready? Clapper? Roll now." I saw an old-style chalk clapper on Camera 1 with all that obscure movie-making information that they use. It pulled away. "Action!"

Elizabeth walked up the steps to the hot tub, gracefully shucked her robe, and daintily stepped into the hot tub. As she sat down I heard Malcolm say, "Have her take one of the glasses now." I saw Bailley dart in front of Camera 3, and a few moments later Elizabeth appeared to stretch, then turned to the tray and took one of the glasses of champagne.

She sipped and seemed to savour it. I was a little concerned because that was the start of her third or fourth flute of champagne ... but she was probably okay. She could usually pack them away and she didn't yet appear the least bit intoxicated.

Several seconds later both of the black guys walked into scene from the side, already on the deck. While Elizabeth was glancing off-camera, looking for direction, the two men dropped their robes and climbed into the hot tub, one on either side of her.

glanglais
glanglais
11 Followers