The Director takes a Hall Pass

You spotted her immediately, but you promised yourself you'd play it cool. It was weird enough that, of all places, you found yourself at a Beyoncé concert, but you said this was going to be your year of new experiences. You'd never imagined this, though.

But there she was: the first female director to make a 1 billion dollar movie, based on a doll. And by the look of things, she was revelling in it: her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, now falling out after a few drinks and what had to be more than a little bit of weed, and a couple hours of wild dancing. She wore a sparkling mesh top that bared her midriff, and black skort that clung to her hips her creamy thighs; a cheap outfit, 100% online fast fashion, never intended to be worn again after tonight. The bare mesh of her top exposed a bralette that allowed her breasts to move freely; you couldn't help but notice the disparate size between the right and the left. "Mom tits," you thought to yourself, briefly disgusted with yourself for the thought, then surprised at your piqued arousal.

A little silver handbag hung across her body, carelessly hung open; at the end of the strap hung a bright pink visor, a cheeky symbol of her victory. It was her night, and she was going to live every minute of it. You'd had your fair share to drink that night, and you couldn't help but think that at that moment, she looked like the happiest, most beautiful, most desirable person in the world. You realized how long you'd been staring, and quickly turned away, your face beginning to flush with embarrassment. You started to shuffle away, as quickly as you could, before a familiar voice behind you said, "Hey!"

You turn around, and see her gesturing in your direction: "Hey, c'mere!"

You stare wildly around you in all directions; this can't actually be happening. This doesn't happen to you, it happens to someone else.

"No, you, c'mere!"

It's happening. She's gesturing for you to come closer. Before you even know what your body is doing, you're standing face to face with her; you can smell the champagne on her breath.

"Hi." She smiles her big, toothy smile, and giggles. "D'you know who I am?"

Your mouth moves, and sound comes out as if independent from your will: "Yeah, I know who you are."

She laughs now, louder; you can see her breasts bouncing slightly under her mesh top. "Yaaaaay! That's great! I have to tell you something!"

She slips closer to you now; she places a hand on your shoulder, steadying herself. You can smell sweat underneath a surprisingly delicate perfume as she leans close to your ear: "I have to tell you something, but it's a secret." Another soft giggle, punctuated by a sharp hiccup: "Follow me, ok?"

This is unbelievable. You try to speak, but no sound comes out. You force your head to move, and then you're nodding wildly. She smiles; "Ok, follow me!"

She makes two quick gestures to either side, then pulls you close to her and leans on you. She begins walking you away from the concert grounds; out of the corner of your eyes, you see two men standing in the crowd, about fifteen feet from you. They begin following you at a distance; as you get further from the crowd, they close in, now walking on either side of you both. As the music begins to quiet down, you see that you've been taken to a secluded parking lot: empty, except for a three black sedans, an SUV, and the largest, pinkest stretch limo you've ever seen.

She breaks away from you briefly, and the guard to her right steps forward and opens the door to the limo. He helps her inside; you stand outside, dumbfounded, until the guard gestures you forward. He helps you in, and shuts the door behind you.

The inside of the limo is dimly illuminated. She sits on the other side of the bench seat, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She hands you the bottle, and you pop the cork; she giggles loudly, and fills two glasses from the rapidly spilling bottle. She hands one to you and leans back, crossing her legs demurely.

"So," she smiles; "It's my birthday, and my movie just made a billion dollars."

You lift your glass in a "cheers" gesture; she laughs and clinks your glass, then drains hers.

"Fuck yeah, my movie just made a billion dollars! And, my partner and I, made a little bet. He said, if I could make a movie that made a billion dollars, I could have whatever I want."

She slides closer to you now; her knees are touching yours, and your right fingers are brushing up against the exposed skin of her thighs. She stretches her arm across the back of the seat, and leans in close to your ear.

"So, I said, I want to go see Beyoncé, and I want a Hall Pass."

Your heart is racing now, and time feels like it's suddenly slowed down. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing straight up as she leans her lips close to your ear, and whispers:

"Do you wanna be my Hall Pass?"

You barely have time to nod before she's mounted on top of you, and started kissing your lips hungrily. Your hands find stability between the soft flesh of her thighs and waist. You squeeze her as her kisses suck the air out of your lungs, the smell of her sweat and perfume filling your nose, her messy hair glowing in the dim light of the limo.

Almost unthinkingly, you begin lowering the waistband of her skort. You can feel the rhinestones on the waistband of her thong before she starts giggling again, and gets off you. She backs up a few inches into the limo, and starts performing a mock striptease. She pulls the messy ponytail out of her hair, and shakes it free. She snaps and teases the shiny waistband of her Victoria's Secret panties, before turning around and sliding her skort off, revealing her ass in a bright pink thong, the same color as her visor and the limo. Her ass is full, and round, if a little bit soft; she shakes and jiggles it playfully, before turning back around to face you. The bright pink thong stands out in the front against her creamy pale skin; absent the skort, her belly and thighs sag slightly, and jiggle with her movements. But the sweet smell of her pussy has now joined the smells of her sweat, and perfume, and the champagne, and the effect is intoxicating.

Now she slowly pulls her top off over her head, and then awkwardly pulls one arm, then the other out of her bralette, and suddenly she's nearly naked in front of you, save for her pink thong panties. Her dusty pink nipples stand up hard from her soft breasts, her right one larger and fuller than her left. She throws out her arms in a "Ta-da!" gesture, and you can't help but laugh with her. She smiles, and begins crawling toward you on her hands and knees. When she gets to your legs, her fingers dance up your shins, to your thighs, to the waistband of your pants. She unbuttons and unzips them, and then slowly pulls them down. She tickles and teases the hairy skin of your thighs with kisses, before she dances her nails to the waistband of your boxer briefs.

Your penis stands fully erect as she pulls down your underwear to your ankles, then takes them off of you along with your pants. She spreads your thighs, revealing your hairy balls; your penis dips slightly, as you're suddenly very self-conscious. But she grabs it with her left hand, and starts tickling and teasing your balls with her right. She lightly kisses the insides of your thighs, before running her tongue from your balls, to the tip of your penis. She begins stroking the shaft, now, and teasing and flicking the tip, giggling every time you take a sharp breath. Then, her lips and tongue are tasting and testing the tip of your penis, while her left hand moves up and down shaft, and her right hand tickles and gently squeezes your balls. Finally, she wraps her mouth around your entire penis, moving in rhythm that's countered by the stroking movements of her tongue. You can feel yourself about to explode, but instead of allowing it, you channel the energy, and for the first time that night you take control. With one hand gripped to the side of her face, and the other hooked under her arm, you lift her up onto the seat next to you, and lay her out so her full body is on display. You lean over, and start kissing her behind her ear, then moving down her neck. When you reach her breasts, you take the time to appreciate every nuance: the hardness of her nipples, the soft fullness of her right breast against the perkiness of her left. You kiss them all over, and tease her nipples with your lips, and tongue, and fingers. You continue to kiss down her soft belly, taking a moment to pour some spare champagne into her belly button; she laughs wildly as you drink it out, and suddenly you're face to face with her bright pink panties. You say a moment of silent thanks before you start snapping and teasing the hem and waistband, then slowly pull them off, revealing a manicured patch of dark pubic hair. You lean down, and drink in the scent; you kiss her soft, pale thighs as her legs gradually open, welcoming you in. Your hands stroke back and forth around her thighs and waist as she wraps her legs around you, before finding purchase once more around her breasts. Then, your lips and tongue begin to explore the hot lips of her pussy. Your tongue moves back and forth, savoring every texture, every flavor. You find the firm, round pearl of her clit, and slowly stroke it with the flat surface of your tongue. She's moaning now: "Yes...yes...oh, fuck yes...oh, fuck you, James Cameron!"

That one breaks you both; you're laughing uncontrollably, now. She gets up and leans forward into your chest, and for a moment you hold each other. Then, she reaches for her silver handbag, and pulls out a condom. She tears it open with her teeth, and slides it seductively onto your throbbing penis. You lay back onto the seat as she mounts your hips, and slides you into her. She pins your shoulders to the seat, and thrusts slowly but deliberately up and down. You begin thrusting your hips in a counter rhythm, and dig your fingers into the supple flesh of her ass. Your speed rises, and now you're both moaning and panting together. The sweat pours out of your bodies, and the air is hot and thick with the scent of your sex. Her hips clench tightly, and you can feel the climax building in both of you. With one final breath, you let go, and your orgasm erupts forcefully inside her. Your body goes limp, and she makes two more powerful thrusts before you feel the juice of her orgasm running down your hips. She collapses onto your chest, and you wrap your arms around her, drinking in for one final time the smell of her hair, before you both drift off into a blissful sleep.

You wake up sometime later; still naked, in the limo. It's dark outside, but you can see dawn beginning to grow on the horizon. You're alone, but on the seat next to you, you see a note, and a bright pink visor. The note reads, "Morning, sunshine! Enjoy the limo; the driver will take you wherever you need to go."

You get dressed, still not fully able to believe you aren't dreaming. Once you're comfortable, you go to the cooler and grab a bottle that says, "Fresh-Squeezed Orange Juice". As you crack it open and take in some much needed Vitamin C, you reach for the pink visor. You lift it up to your nose, and can still smell her scent on it. You turn it over in your hands, and there's a message written under the bill in thick, black autograph marker:

"Thank for the memories! XOXO G.G."