Screen Test

Angela's grasping throat and tensing neck muscles further enflamed Jazz's ardour, thickening and stiffening him, transmogrifying his shaft of wood into a sceptre of steel, and throwing a sporadic stutter-step into their shared rhythm. With his rock-hard erection battering her throat, it was like sword swallowing for Angie. Nonetheless, Jazz was impressed. "She is really quite talented," he mused, "for a novice—indeed, really very talented for a rank newbie!" Notwithstanding, Jazz, the consummate pro, continued with his end of the match relatively calmly—almost dispassionately.

The cunnilingus being performed on her was infuriatingly wonderful! Angie heaved her hips hard against her partner's munching mouth. Her trembling legs rose kicking in the air, and squeezing Jazz's cheeks between her thighs. Both struggled to stay focused, and fought to control the knife-edge arousal threatening to inundate them.

"Stop!" Like an emergency klaxon, Paula's command tore through the eroticism of the set. Again, they were stopped just before climax. And that scenario was repeated several times in countless variations. Sometimes old scenes were reworked, tweaked; and sometimes Paula described new scenes, after which they'd practice important lines, be given stage directions, or be moved into starting positions. For the most part there was too much stop and start for Angie to actually get there, although she did manage a couple of small peaks that could have been called climaxes.

Finally, as the afternoon wore on, Paula said, "Get dressed again. I want to do one last scene." Once they were dressed and refreshed, she went on. "This time I want it like you're coming into a motel room with a guy you're having a torrid affair with. Undress one another slowly. Lots of foreplay—nipple play, fingering, etc. Like you're really making love. No rush."

Angela had never been in love, and had never experienced romantic sex, but she hid her apprehension well. She was becoming a fine actress. "Anyway," she reminded herself with a bit of positive self-talk, "it is all about acting. And that's what I am—an actress." Angie based her responses on love-scenes she had seen on TV and in the movies, or read descriptions of in steamy books; but, mostly, she just used her imagination. It really was simple to start; she just followed Jazz's lead. They began with a little French-kissing that became increasingly passionate, devolving into hungry face-sucking.

Jazz dropped his hands to her breasts, squeezing and manipulating, while he continued their tongue-sparring. Ever so slowly he pulled off of her lips and replaced one of his hands with his mouth. Holding still for a beat, he gradually began to nibble and suck, pinch and flick. Arousal fired up, shooting arcs of heat between her nipples. She wanted him to stop; she wanted him to keep at it. Twisting her torso beneath him she tried to pull away, yet give him easier access. Her responses were no longer even remotely contrived.

Then he eased his free hand down between her legs, cupping her bush. After a moment's pause in which he appreciated the feel of the soft fur and the heat emanating from her sex, his swirling thumb found her clitoris, as his fingers, singly and in pairs began to gently stroke her pussy, splitting her labia and spreading her nectar.

Paula's off-stage direction, "Let's take it back to 'missionary', kids," brought them back. The two of them scrambled about like youngsters wrestling at bedtime. Then, out of the tangle, Angie stilled herself, supine, legs apart, in the middle of the bed, her arms raised to welcome Jazz in a lovers' embrace. Jazz settled over her, holding himself up on his arms, and paused, looking down on her face with loving eyes. She smiled up at him, thinking to herself, "Pretty fucking believable, I would say!" In one smooth movement Jazz lowered his chest to hers and slid himself up between her thighs, placing his turgid cockhead firmly against her vaginal opening. Then, gliding gently into her dripping quim, he began to push, in and out, with slow and calm strokes, a classic straight fuck.

And, for her part, Angie just did what came naturally. With her hands around his neck, Angie studied Jazz's face—handsome, in a rugged way—and mirrored his huffing, ragged breath. Certainly, the whole performance looked enough like real tenderness to convince the brass, as it were. Indeed, her responses were, by now, pretty much genuine. Faking her feelings became even easier as Angie grew increasingly aroused. Paula had, earlier, advised her to make-believe it was true-love. As her stimulation steadily increased the line between acting and living became blurred; she could feel that the skyrocket fuses had already been lit in her core. They sparkled and sizzled, burning inexorably shorter until, her body quaking and shaking, she reached the inevitable.

Clinging to her fellow actor, to her pretend lover, she jolted with each exploding discharge that flashed like lightning behind her eyes, its thunder rumbling through her entire body. It was an intensely peaky, very satisfying orgasm.

For just a moment, Angela wondered if Jazz has even cum yet; then Paula said, "That was great, but we need a few other angles. So, let's do it again. We can splice in cuts of the real orgasm with slices of the faked." Turning to Angie, she added, "This is what will happen from time to time. Right now, I just want to see if you can pull off some believable faking, under pressure." Turning back to Jazz and her two colleagues, she declared, "back near the top of the scene. You've just got all your clothes off."

Angela tried to channel what she did and how she'd felt the first time. The second take went very well. Angie's bucking and squealing was convincing enough that it carried Jazz over the edge, concluding the scene with a loud and voluminous climax. When he finally pulled out at the 'Cut!' order, Angie could feel his semen flowing like a river from her pussy, down over her anus, to cascade from her butt-crack onto the bed.

Tossing her a robe, and indicating she take a seat, Paula and her two cameramen, the panel as it were, reconvened at the table to discuss where Angela might fit into the organization. Bubbling with excitement, Angie watched impatiently, while they deliberated. "I could get to like this," she giggled silently to herself. "...really, really get to like this!"

Paula, it seemed, really believed Angie had potential, and argued the point, until Peter finally relented. "Okay. She could start as a fluffer..."

But Axel interrupted, expounding, "I think she could go straight in as an active extra—a background fucker in group scenes, to start.

Paula concurred, adding, "She'd do okay as crew service as well. Maybe even calm-down fucks for the studs that need to be cooled down between scenes." That explanation was, of course, purely for Angie's edification. With her eyes on Paula, Angie's mind wandered, conjuring up visions of Paula eating her out—what was it they called it? Cunning-something? In any case, it had sure felt good. As she gathered wool, her fingers fell to her crotch—still naked beneath her robe, and began unconsciously fiddling with herself. She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the bright light of arousal flared within her fundament. And as the daydream drifted, the figure of Paula changed into Rosa—first Rosa eating her then, as a warmth infused into her psyche, she munching on Rosa. She smiled as she considered, dreamily, just how she might express her gratitude to Rosa when she got home.

Angie sighed contentedly then, giving her head a shake rejoined the discussion. She noticed Paula smiling at her and waiting a beat, before carrying on with the business. Angela was officially hired and welcomed aboard as in-house staff—active extra, general minor roles, fluffer, reliever—general Jill-of-all-trades. She signed a year's contract—for basic wage plus appearance bonuses. "The casting video will be your first film," Paula explained. Part of our 'Screen Test' series; although it won't be released until after you've made a couple or three headliner movies. You'll see, when..." (Angie noticed Paula had said 'when' not 'if'.) "...you're a big name, it'll be instantly popular. You'll get paid for it once it's released."

The panel explained a few other details, then endeavoured to answer Angie's questions; then, Paula suggested it might be a good idea for Angie to take on a screen name. When Angie nodded but said nothing—her mind still in a bubbling turmoil—Axel said, "We thought Angel Wings might be a good one—only, of course, if you agree. It's your call."

Nodding expressively, Angela squeaked, "Yep! Angel Wings—I like it."

"Well then Angel Wings it is. Welcome, Ms Wings!"

Angie was amazed it had all actually happened, and happened so fast. Still, she was super pleased. The signing bonus was a wonderful surprise. "And it all feels so good, too!" Some of the bonus, of course, was taken for professional association initiation dues—she was now a member of the Adult Entertainment Employees Association—AEEA.

"We'll be getting up to speed in the next week or so, and should be rolling within the next—say—three weeks. We'll call you before then."

Having wrapped it up, Angie left the studio with a silly grin and a bounce, albeit tired, in her step. "I can do this!" she sang. She marveled at herself and her circumstances. "What an amazing journey," she remarked to no one in particular, "from serious sexual repression to adult entertainment virtually overnight! This is gonna be fun!"

Angela headed home, exhausted, but very pleased with herself. "Angel Wings," she repeated, over and over, under her breath. She couldn't wipe the grin from her face. Entering the flat, she strode right up to her flatmate, and, her face stuck in a goofy grin, she placed her hands on Rosa's shoulders. dancing about like a little kid too excited to stand still. "I got a job!" she exclaimed. Rosa just raised her eyebrows in a sort of silent 'go on'. "Remember that ad? For the adult entertainment company? For auditions and interviews?" Angie nodded enthusiastically, for Rosa. "Well I called! I had an interview and a screen test. And I got hired!"

"Screen test?" Rosa stepped back and looked her young friend in the eye. "Hired? Hired for what? Stage hand?"

"No. As an actor!" Angie couldn't stop smiling and bouncing.

"D'you mean you got naked?"

"No duh!"

"Had sex?"

"Of course," then Angie added, sounding more than a little surprised herself, "and I quite liked it!"

Stepping back to take her jacket off, Angela, then, suggested, "Let's order pizza to celebrate. My treat." Over dinner and beers, Angie explained what happened, and, getting to the signing bonus, paid Rosa, with a flourish, the rent she owed.

Rosa was suspicious, saying she hoped Angie hadn't just been conned. But Angie, her head in a whirl, assured her that she was confident it was completely legit—and, incredibly, it was.

Angie kept muttering, mainly to herself, that she could hardly believe it. Two days ago she couldn't have even imagined this. Now she felt like she was embarking on a new, fantastic career.

Finally running out of steam, Angie excused herself to take a long hot bath—a little sore, but beaming the entire time—reliving the erotic events of the life-changing occurrence. Then she thought about Rosa, her dear friend in the other room, and how she might show her gratitude.