Showtime Ch. 01

She tapped the pad of her index finger to his dickhole and came away with a gluey droplet of precum.

He needed to be hard.

Rock hard.

Janey wound back her middle finger and gently flicked the tip of his shaft, this time making him spit as he moaned, swearing at her and gripping the back of the sofa tight. Rob's fingers curled as his toes did the same, Janey knelt between his thighs as she tormented him lovingly.

She reminded herself of what needed to happen. Behind the other rooms, there was no doubt the other men would be getting the same from their own fluffers. A few of them would be part of the show once it started, but most of them were just there to help with the prep work. Viagra could do the job too, but there was no way to know which order they'd be called up in ahead of time. The studs needed to be ready to go at a moment's notice, but at the same time they couldn't blow the second their scene began.

It was a delicate balancing act. A matter of finding his rhythm.

And, with a little under an hour to go, Janey continued to stroke up and down, up and down, this time daring to crane her neck and back far enough to trace the tip of her tongue up over his engorged, purple tip.

Rob thumped his heel against the ground, a strained gasp escaping his gritted teeth.

They'd find that rhythm soon enough.

***

The producer emerged from the bathroom, zipping up the flies on his jeans and hoping beyond hope the techs would be done already/ They never were, and the show always felt like it was going to collapse before they could even start airing.

And then, seemingly despite everyone's best efforts, it would typically run flawlessly.

He stepped over some wires, turning to someone in a hoodie sipping from a cup of coffee.

"Hey! Jackass!"

The coffee guy looked up lazily, then snapping to attention when he saw who was shouting.

"Get this shit secured, asshole. If I trip over your shitty wiring once we're live, I swear to god I'll-"

The producer stopped when he heard one of the techs calling his name. He turned to the coffee guy and drew a finger across his throat before approaching the main set-up.

"The other sites are starting to call in, they're all pretty much ready to go on your word."

The producer exhaled slowly, nodding and trying not to show too much relief.

In a corner of the production room, a couple more techs checked off the mic and the screens for Jackson, the announcer. The dashboard in front of him had a series of lights to let him know which site he would be speaking to, with a switch set aside for global address.

The techs did a couple more checks, their counterparts at the other sites going room to room to make sure the PA system in each one worked. Jackson would do the final checks himself just before curtains up; for the moment, he was massaging his throat and ululating.

"La-la-la-la-ladies" Jackson enunciated once, then again. "Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-welcome."

He had been at this for the best part of an hour, doing core work, then buzzing his lips, humming through a straw, practicing different letters.

When it got annoying, the techs closed the sound booth to continue working in silence.

As the central display, a large screen showing live feeds from each site, came online the producer checked the clock in the center.

Almost forty shows, and only once had one gone off with some kind of hitch.

Fifty minutes. Hold it together for another fifty minutes.

***

Harold licked his lips and decided, finally, if he was going to go in then he'd go in all the way. Sinking the extra hundred up front, he felt a sense of shameful satisfaction as the site congratulated him on purchasing a VIP pass, the on-screen clock ticking down to forty-five minutes. There was nothing left to get up for, Harold had made sure of it - getting in and out of his seat was hard enough and at some point in the last hour, his crutch had fallen over from where he leant it against his wardrobe and now lay just out of reach.

It didn't matter - he had a two litre bottle of water, a bottle of scented lotion and some expensive tissue brand that he felt stupid buying just for this.

"Whacking it like a sultan" Harold had muttered, closing the door on the delivery guy after thanking him for bringing it all the way upstairs.

Forty minutes.

He stretched his leg out gingerly, briefly regretting not bringing the stool he liked to rest it on closer.

***

Rob's fingers twitched a little, still draped over the back of the sofa.

"How are you feeling?" Janey asked, sipping gingerly from a bottle of water as she watched him. She learned in her time in front of the camera on the show it was a mistake to have too much in your stomach beforehand and, even though she wouldn't be taking it quite as rough, the lesson had stuck.

The girl between Rob's thighs slurped gently as a small break opened in the seal between her lips and his meat. She was a little younger than Janey, a skinny redhead with thin, unimpressive lips who had tagged in thirty or so minutes back when Janey's wrists started to ache. Janey knew her mainly as an easy lay; a couple of the other guys had admitted to fucking her on the side after shows. Her main job was a fluffer though, and Janey guessed she must be competent enough at that.

Rob slowly turned his hand over to give her a thumbs up.

"I'm good" he grunted, shifting in his spot and letting his head roll back again as the girl suckled on his boys, her nose wrinkling as it brushed up against some of the hairs. Whereas as little as ten minutes ago he was still bucking his hips, still putting his hand on the back of her head, now he could at least sit mostly still. The unrelenting, burning pressure that felt like it was going to split his cock in two had now settled into a ceaseless, but manageable, throbbing.

Rob opened one eye to take in Janey again; she may as well have been nude for all the latex did to obscure her figure.

"How long have we got?" he asked.

Janey slid off her stool and walked across the room with practiced ease in her heels, the platforms adding an extra four inches to her height. It put the two of them at almost equal standing.

She bent forward, skirt riding up to show her bare ass, slowly rolling her wrists around just behind Rob's field of view.She plucked her phone from the rucksack with her street clothes rolled up inside.

"About twenty minutes. I can tag back in if you want"

***

"You got it?"

Miguel didn't bother stopping to entertain the question, simply continuing to work the lid of the drum loose, unsealing and then pitching it forward into Room 6. The contents spilled out and began to fill the recess of the floor, slick and shiny. The mirrors lining the room reflected Miguel's face as he squatted down to lift the now half empty drum by its base and upend it; the contents were not particularly viscous and the floor was warm. Miguel had spent nearly an hour of the precious fourteen afforded to him chasing down and faulty connection keeping it from

The liquid soon spread it to cover most of the floor, the remaining space filled out by Chico emptying another drum into it.

"Yeah, I got it" Miguel panted, grunting and stiffly getting back to his feet, clutching his hip.

Dani nodded, checking his watch. They had maybe ten minutes to spare; close, but better than fifteen minutes late, like last time.

"The other rooms been cleaned? You had the guys go through, wipe everything down?"

"Shit yeah, you could lick the floors in there, man."

"Guess we're all set then, huh? Come on, let's clear out of here. Get everybody back stage, we're done for now."

***

"What the hell are they still...?"

The tech raised his head from his laptop, the production room floor now a carefully organised rat's nest of wires taped down. The producer was watching the screen intently, shaking his head as he saw the maintenance guys start to move out.

"Never mind. How are we looking?"

The tech paused to stammer before answering.

"We're good. Yeah, I mean, we're all set, near as I can tell" the tech said, looking at one of the other monitors hooked to his computer. The live feed from downstairs showed an apprehensive girl standing in Room 1, looking around as if trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

In the year and a bit he'd been working this job, the tech found they almost never did.

Almost.

The producer nodded at that. On the main screen at the front of the room, feeds from the other sites in other cities began to sync up.

Other girls.

Other rooms.

Across the board, the other sites ran their final checks and came in green. In the center of the display, the clock began to count down the final thirty seconds.

"OK, if anybody isn't in position, consider yourself fired" the producer's voice boomed across the production room, certain the same conversation was being carried out at all the other sites.

A hush spread across the room as the counter hit ten. The producer raised a hand, counting down to the sound booth before giving Jackson the go-sign.

***

Jackson swallowed one last mouthful of spit, making sure his mouth was well lubricated.

"La-la-la-la-ladies. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-welcome la-la-la-la-ladies."

The red light in the booth clicked on, indicating the mic had been activated. Looking out the small window, Jackson saw the producer signal him to go and depressed the switch to speak through the global address.

***

Snuggled up in their bed, Marcia cooed softly into Allen's ear as he slowly stroked her bare lips with his middle finger. Their clothes lay abandoned by the door, to be collected for the washing in the morning along with the sheets. She brought her lips to his neck and sucked gently, eventually grazing his collar with her teeth as he slipped his finger down to the first knuckle inside her. She was already reciprocating, both hands cupping and caressing his manhood.

The show's jingle began to play from the TV, the laptop running it plugged in from the floor via HDMI.

Not stopping, Allen and Marcia refocused their attention to the events on screen.

Showtime.

***

Lara looked up and around the room, a padded cube maybe three metres high lined with white leather. Her bare feet clenched against the floor, the PA address seemingly coming from everywhere despite the lack of obvious speakers.

"WELCOME LADIES!" it boomed, the screen on one of the walls activating as well with the show's logo spinning slowly.

"YOU'RE IN FOR ONE HELL OF A NIGHT!"