The Grande Futapest Hotel Ch. 01

Layla tittered. "Well, I mean, aren't you afraid of them suing you?"

"Not at all. My name is legally distinct." Selena said. "There's no case there. Did you hear about the porn star named Cindy Crawford? And the model Cindy Crawford tried to sue her, but the porn star Cindy Crawford's legal name was actually 'Cindy Crawford,' spelled the exact same way? So she had a legal right to do whatever she wanted under that name.

"See... nowadays, the porn name isn't to make you Google-able, and it's not anonymity. I actually skipped senior picture day explicitly so my picture wouldn't be in my high school yearbook, because at that point, I knew I would be going into porn. But I'm sure my real name is out there somewhere. I think some dudes look for it so they know I'm... a real futa. And not a dude."

Layla sucked her teeth and sighed. "I thought our existence would put an end to that sort of thinking."

"Sadly not. So my name, and any porn name, is just branding. Trying to find something catchy. And Grande... I'm not Spanish, but I am... grande."

Another moment of silence. "So what's your full porn name again?"

"Layla Boyd."

"Oh, I get it." Selena said. "Layla from the song by Eric Clapton, which itself came from Layla and Majnun, about a man whose unrequited love drives him mad, chosen by Clapton because he'd fallen in love with George Harrison's then-wife Pattie Boyd."

Layla stared at her, heart thumping. "You're the first person whose ever got that without me explaining it first. I mean, they get the 'Layla' part, but not the 'Boyd' part."

"I was already thinking of making Layla your ringtone in my phone, but now I am absolutely doing that." Selena pulled off down an exit that Layla didn't recognize. "Once we stop, of course."

"Where are we going?" Layla asked, trying not to sound alarmed.

"To my home in Tarzana." She answered. "Why? I said I'd give you a ride. You didn't tell me where to go, so I figured you wanted me to take you to my home. If you got something else to do today, we can turn around."

"No, that's OK." Layla said quickly. "I didn't have anything else planned today, except to maybe eat some ice cream, but... I'm in a much better mood than I was earlier."

Selena brought the car to a slow stop as she reached a new vein of highway utterly impacted with stationary traffic, the occasional distant car honk serving no purpose like the H in "ghost."

"Aaaaaand my good mood is gone." Layla sputtered a weary breath out her puckered lips, leaning against the window. She jumped when she felt Selena reach into Layla's pocket. She didn't grab what she thought she might, instead pulling out Layla's phone.

Selena dialed her number into Layla's phone. Selena's phone rang, the default ringtone for the first and only time, surely. She hung up Layla's phone and handed it back to her. Selena used her phone to text Layla's number.

"Hello" was the text.

Layla sent back, "Got it."

Selena's response, through text: "new phone, who dis"

Layla giggled. She looked out the window briefly, looking at the dense trees and hills in the distance. Her phone vibrated again, and she looked down at the chat window. Selena had snapped a picture of her cock, hanging between her legs in all its considerable glory.

"I'm keeping that." Layla tapped her phone to save the picture.

"No, you can't." Selena said insincerely. "I can't let a picture of my dick get on the Internet... oh no..." She glanced over at Layla, watching her fuss in her seat, adjusting herself and straining under the seat belt. "Did that get you hard?"

"I just got a sext from Selena Grande." Layla said. "Of course it did."

"Feel free to send one back." Selena said. "We need to pass the time somehow."

--

What should have been a half-hour journey took almost an hour, in which Selena and Layla got acquainted. Layla described her streams, a very simple affair where she conversed with chat while undressing and playing with herself until she came, which always marked the end of the stream. Sometimes, she'd just close the laptop and go right to sleep. Layla said she'd streamed almost every evening before bed, streaming right from bed. It got to the point where she was so used to whacking off late at night, a recent night where she didn't stream was followed by a day walking around, almost deliriously horny.

Layla told Selena how she'd watched pretty much all the videos of her she could find, and had been a huge fan for years. This led Selena to mockingly scold Layla for accessing naughty websites before she was eighteen, as she was born in 1997. There was that portal that asked for your birthday and everything!

They discussed their times in school, focusing on their mutual horrid high school experiences. Both were spared any huge humiliations that would make it into a bad comedy film. But going to school with essentially the same people for twelve years while bearing a secret means that it only takes one mistake or one person to undo years of hiding. The only friend Layla lost the day someone found out was the one who blabbed the secret to everyone. All her other friends had no problem with it, so long as she 'didn't make a move or something.'

And thus the other secret, Layla's long-burgeoning attraction to women, was chilled and forced back inside. She never dated in school, and watched lots of 'videos' after homework.

Layla moved away from home at eighteen, not long after graduation, and defied her parents' wishes for her to go to college. She had enough of school, and moved to California, where she worked at a coffee shop before breaking into her current job.

Streaming kept her up late, and the coffee shop got her up early, so Layla lived those few months in a state of perpetual exhaustion. It was nothing compared to the labor she did while living on her parent's meager little farm, though. When her streaming revenue grew to the point where it could support her lifestyle by itself, she happily quit the coffee shop... though she didn't have the nerve to tell them why.

Layla thought she knew a lot about Selena, but she didn't know she wasn't even allowed to attend school when she wanted to enter kindergarten. She was home-schooled until high school, when attitudes about futa students had moved along considerably since Selena had tried to attend kindergarten in 1997, the year of Layla's birth, Selena hastened to add, as if the difference was a hundred years.

Selena tried for exactly one day to try to keep her futahood secret. It did not work. Her efforts to hide it failed, and then everyone was talking about the 'futa foreign exchange student.' She and the school were firmly rooted in Illinois, so she never figured out where the 'foreign exchange' part came from.

After that, she never attempted to hide it again. Nobody ever commented on her wearing a skirt so tight, you could see a bulge. After all, what did she have to hide? It was the biggest one in the whole school. As a result, she might have scared off other futa students who were currently hiding their conditions, and Selena's high school experience was still very lonely.

Selena dropped out four months before the last day of her senior year, dodging picture day, prom, graduation and finals. She took the GED test and passed, rather than spend another damn second in that miserable concrete dungeon. The only plus side to being a lonely futa in her school was being excused from gym class for not having anything appropriate to wear. Even the loosest sweatpants would be too uncomfortable.

Selena's story of success in mainstream porn started just like Layla's, except hers didn't involve a laptop, but cold e-mailing porn studios to get an audition. When she advertised her twelve-inch cock, most didn't even bother to respond with a denial. A few demanded pictures, to which she said her big fat performer would only appear live. The only studio that wrote back agreed to the private meeting to see the proof.

She came to this producer's office and showed off her goods. He was thrilled that she was telling the truth, and then asked how badly she wanted the job, gently gesturing to the 'casting couch' nearby. Layla was horrified to hear this, but Selena still admired her eighteen-year-old self's reaction.

Selena said she'd be totally down for sex... if they were filming it. She was not 'gay-for-pay,' as they say. She was 'hetero for the cheddar-o.' She would gladly have sex with this possibly formerly attractive porn producer with his greasy thinning hair and his sandals, and she would act like it was the best she'd ever had it or ever would. But she wasn't going to do it unless it was part of the production of a real porno. If he brought in the cameras and everything else, she would do whatever he wanted.

The producer wasn't interested in this idea, but he wasn't about to let this foot-long cock walk out the door. They shot her first solo scene on a couch with just her, a cameraman and him. No boom operator meant her first scene had noticeably poor sound quality, with an inescapable hiss that always bothered Selena. But as the director said to her while she was naked: "if you can find a place to clip a lav mic, I'll clip it!"

The scene was a huge hit, the modest studio grew substantially, Selena became a star, and the rest is history. Dirty, dirty history.

The long trip down memory lane was peppered with people cutting Selena off and her shouting at them, a little bit of singing along to classic radio, and Layla finally getting the nerve to sneak a snap of her cock and text it to Selena. She checked the phone number she was sending the obscene picture to about six times before finally having the nerve to send it.

Finally, after all that time, Selena pulled off of the highway and drove down a few side streets and approached her home.

A mansion. A modern art styled building of blocks of white-gray concrete, rectangular windows, glass walls, sloped roofs at many angles, a curved section of wall for some reason, possibly to support those curved televisions that are all the rage these days. It was surrounded by beautiful mountains, with a gentle cobblestone path leading up to the house, with a few trees and shrubs ornamenting the path. Without the driveway and garage entrance, it would look more like a modern art museum than a house.

No fountain, though. The house wasn't quite on that level. It was huge, but not so ostentatious as to be obnoxious. It was still the coolest looking house Layla had ever seen outside of the movies.

"You live here?!" Layla asked.

"Yeah. I love this place." She pulled into her garage, the door opening at her car's approach without her pressing any buttons. "I wanted a place by the water, but they were much more expensive, or not modern enough for me. So instead, it's by these hills, which are all wildlife preserves, so nobody's ever going to build anything there, so the view from the back is mine forever."

"How big is this place?"

"It's sixteen thousand square feet."

"Does anyone else live here?"

"Just me."

"How many bedrooms?"

"Seven, but... some of them I've made into other rooms, like my office." They left the garage and walked through a hallway set under a staircase made of nothing but unsupported slabs suspended off the wall. They entered the kitchen, a massive room with fourteen foot high ceilings, hanging lamps, an island, and everything else a kitchen needed. Through a small doorway, it came to the TV room, with a big couch and even bigger television.

There were other rooms to see, but this is where the tour stopped for now. "Wow, it's like six-thirty." Selena said. "You hungry?"

"Yeah." Layla said, still looking around at this impressive house. "You have like a chef or something?"

"Well, I have a traveling chef." Selena explained. "She comes on Wednesdays, brings groceries and cooks me something awesome that night. She does that for other people on other nights."

"You don't have a personal assistant?"

"I have a phone with scheduling software."

"A butler?"

"Nope."

"A gardener?"

"Not in the winter. And he would come Sundays."

"Maid?"

"Tuesdays."

"Pets?"

"I might have a Tamagotchi somewhere. But now that you've reminded me of it, the battery's probably dead and corroded by now. I'm a bad mommy."

"You really live here completely alone?"

"Yeah." As they had spoken, Selena has brought them back to the kitchen. She opened the freezer, withdrawing two plastic-wrapped discs. "You want pepperoni or sausage?"

Layla resisted breaking out into incredulous laughter. The most famous futa porn star just asked her if she wanted sausage, and without a hint of irony. "I'm good with either." She shrugged.

Pizza came quicker than she expected, when Selena revealed a rotating countertop pizza cooker. Layla was impressed with this piece of technology, and Selena helpfully explained that it was about fifty bucks from that exclusive California boutique called Target.

And no, Selena explained, there were no pizza places that delivered near her. Her traveling chef would buy two small parcooked pizzas from a place near her house, wrap and freeze them and bring them to her every week.

Selena cut the pizzas on the surface of her island. It was half quartz, half maple butcher block. A dim asterisk-like pattern was faintly visible where she had sliced many pizzas before that. Selena insisted she only had pizza after filming.

They went to the TV room with their pizzas. Evidently, they were just in time for Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Layla kept trying to guess the Wheel puzzles, but would always miss a certain letter that had already been guessed that made the answer impossible. The final puzzle was solved by the mousy mid-forties woman, and she was rewarded with that sweet-ass car spinning on its own wheel.

That was the only time the whole half-hour that Selena left Layla's arms, when she jumped up in excitement at a stranger winning a car not even as nice as hers. Layla just smiled, and they cuddled again, Layla still not entirely sure any of this was real. She hadn't watched Jeopardy since her great-grandmother died.

"I'm surprised you're not watching... like, Entertainment Tonight or something." Layla said.

"Oh, no way." Selena said. "I can't stand that stuff. Besides, it's not on tonight."

Layla looked at Selena sideways. "I had completely forgotten it was Sunday."

"Yeah."

"Wheel or Fortune and Jeopardy don't air on the weekends."

"This is taped."

"We've been sitting through the commercials."

"The remote's way over there..." She reached out to the end table, several feet out of reach.

"Do you... not watch entertainment news because they talk about you?"

"I'm flattered you think I'm mainstream enough to get on there." Selena said. "They might have mentioned me once somewhere, but... I'm only actually famous among futas and perverts, and both." Selena booped Layla's nose with her finger. "Like you."

Layla giggled. "Someday, you'll be famous enough to have your name as a question on Jeopardy. After all, you'll always be the first futa porn star."

"We might be waiting a while before Jeopardy asks questions about porn."

"That's too bad. That's the only one I would win."

They watched until Final Jeopardy. They both had a guess. Both turned out wrong. The winner was too far ahead for anyone to catch him, so he wagered zero dollars, the pussy.

Selena checked her phone. "It's been an hour." Layla looked up at her. "That means we can finally go swimming."

After putting Layla's remaining slices of pizza in the refrigerator, Selena brought Layla to the pool. It was technically indoors, but surrounded by windows on three sides that Selena assured her could be opened in the summertime. The floor was a smooth marble or quartz surface with enough grip to prevent slipping when it was wet. The pool itself was about forty feet by twelve of beautifully clear water whipped into a gentle roil by the filter, activated as they entered.

Layla turned around, about to ask if she had a swimsuit she could borrow, or even a big T-shirt. Somehow, looking into Selena's blue eyes, she didn't quite have the nerve to ask for one. Layla pulled her shirt over her head and left it over a nearby chair. She undid her bra and unwound the sweater around her waist. She sat, removed her shoes and socks, and was left with only her yoga pants.

There was a moment's hesitation. Then again, she had just been mostly naked in front of several strangers earlier that afternoon. This wasn't nervousness making her heart beat. It was exhilaration. Layla turned to face Selena directly, hooked her thumbs into her yoga pants, pushed them down to her ankles and stepped out of them. Her boner was snapped out of her pants with the firm snap of a taut diving board.

Selena smiled. Layla shrunk in a bit as she felt her looking at her, jumping into the pool to escape the direct scrutiny. She tried to catch her breath as she floated in the wonderfully warm water. She couldn't believe she just did that.

In that time she caught her breath, Selena had stripped and jumped in herself. Layla's heart pounded harder, wondering if this skinny-dipping session was a pretext for... something else.

As it turned out, no. Selena started swimming energetic laps, back and forth the distance of the pool in a variety of styles. Layla tagged along, swimming at her own pace. Her only swimming experience was school and the occasional trip to the ocean, so her technique wasn't as polished and graceful as Selena. Even Selena's dong, flopping softly as the water flowed past it... was somehow graceful.

After forty minutes of swimming, in which both their heads were seldom above water enough to ever talk, Selena came back to the edge of the pool and put her elbows on the edge. She slowly took in breath.

Layla swam up behind her. "When you said we would swim... I didn't think we'd actually swim. I thought we'd float around and..."

Selena turned her head towards her. "And what?"

Under her gaze, Layla found her tongue frozen. Selena chuckled once and moved to the pool ladder and stepped out. The water pouring off her curvaceous body, her ass bouncing and her cock bobbing as she walked, her body painted with a million dots of water... that was an image Layla would never forget. She'd seen every inch of Selena in video, some of it high-definition, but if she were ever alone and the Internet was out... this mental image could summon lustful thoughts in an instant.

Layla followed her, a little embarrassed that she was already hard again. Selena had summoned a shower head from a hidden alcove in the wall and started washing herself off with warm water. She sprayed Layla as well, washing the chlorine off their bodies.

Selena walked through her house, entirely undressed and uninhibited, as Layla imagined she had done many times before. They reached one of the bathrooms and pulled out two white robes, softer than any brand-new robe Layla had ever felt. She put it on, slightly reluctantly, and Selena pulled out a hair dryer and started doing the obvious thing with it.

She turned it off for a moment as she saw Layla patiently watching her dry her hair. "I don't own a second one of these, I'm sorry."

"I'm fine." She insisted.

Once Selena's hair was dry, she passed it to Layla, saying she'd 'warmed her up for ya.' Layla dried her hair as Selena went off to some other room. She expected her to come back with some nightwear, bunny slippers, perhaps two glasses of wine, or... could she even dare be so brave as to think it? A condom! The very thought of it caused her heart to pound.

What Selena did bring back was much more intimidating: a twelve-inch ruler. Selena walked up to Layla, still sat on the edge of the bathtub, and knelt in front of her.