Success in Television

1. Crew Call

The rotund, smiling man stood up and addressed the group in an unexpected Irish accent.

"Okay everyone, if I could just have your attention. For anyone who hasn't worked with me before, I'm Steve Thomas, and I'll be your director this evening. Over here is Amanda, our staff producer. Doug here is technical director. Sam is our engineer. And Phil over there is in charge of audio for tonight, with Mark and Jake who you guys probably all know. And the young man with him is Peter Kerr, he's here for work experience from his high school, and I suggest that you be nice to him, because I've had a chat with him and he's pretty smart; he'll probably be standing here doing my job in a year or two."

Peter blushed as the entire crew turned to look at him. He felt very young, at eighteen, though a few of the production assistants were surely only a year or two older than him. Peter knew what he was doing, at least in theory, and was fitter and stronger than many of them, but the crew had an air of confidence and no-nonsense ability about them that was slightly intimidating.

"Cameras one through five are already set up at the stage. That's studio A. Guys, you know what you're doing. Six and seven will cover the anchors out here in studio B. Bill's on six and seven is locked off. That'll be set up, and the lights, when we're done here. The foundation is managing the volunteers on the phones; we don't have to worry about any of that. We'll have the phone number up throughout on the Inscriber."

Peter listened vaguely as the director went through various points about the play they were televising that night, a fundraiser for a national charity. There were so many different things to remember. Luckily he didn't have to worry about them all; he just had to do whatever cable-running and mic-adjusting Phil, the terrifyingly proficient audio chief, needed help with.

"So a word about the actors; we're not working with professionals here, but we do need to turn in a professional television event. These are skilled amateurs. Most of them haven't been on live television before. But they have professional wardrobe. They have professional makeup. They've hired a professional lighting crew, who we've been working with, and they're excellent. Some of these people want careers in the theatre. This is their chance to shine on national television. You can bet they're taking this very seriously indeed. We owe it to them to do not just a good job, but the best possible job. That means you. Every single member of this crew. Every job is important. Let's cut no corners. Let's do it right. Thanks. We have two hours. Let's make it happen."

There was a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation as the twenty or so crew members streamed off in separate directions. Peter followed Phil and the other audio assistants, Jake and Mark, to the production truck. "So, guys," Phil grinned. "Costume drama. You know what that means."

"Concealed microphones?" asked Jake.

"You got it," Phil replied, as Jake and Mark high-fived each other, "but don't get too excited. The female principles have mics and transmitters sewn into their costumes. I got fresh batteries put in this morning while the costumes were in wardrobe. We just have to make sure they still work when they're put on. There are a couple guys who need miked up though - here's the list. Just tape them to their chests. I know how much you two enjoy playing with hairy chests, since you don't have any body hair of your own yet."

Mark smiled and flipped him the bird.

"So you guys get on with that. Peter, grab this headset. I want you to go out to the stage and we'll get some levels on the omnis out there. Let's get going, time is short here."

2. Talent Spotting

Peter felt rather proud of himself as he walked around the building and through the corridors to the main theatre auditorium. As he strode through groups of musicians, stagehands, volunteers, and various hangers-on, he noticed them taking in his "TV CREW" badge and headset, and respectfully making way for him. This was a feeling he could get used to.

Inside the auditorium was a scene of chaos as last-minute preparations were made by the theatrical crew. Backdrops were being raised and lowered; prop positions checked; last minute line changes being reviewed; and the chorus was rehearsing one of their songs. Some members of the invited audience had already arrived and were taking their seats.

Peter pressed his "talk" button. "Phil, this is Peter, I'm there".

The headset crackled, "Okay kid, just hang loose for a second, I'm working on a little problem here."

Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall, watching as a small group of actors took the stage in full costume, scripts in hand, apparently having decided to rehearse something just one last time. The flowing dresses of the female players certainly did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies, and Peter found himself admiring the shapely behind of one particular actress at some length.

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz in his ear. "Peter, I need you to check the number six omni. Not getting anything from it."

Peter walked up to the stage and swung his body onto it. He made for the offending mic, and checked the connection. "Looks good Phil, it's plugged in OK", he radioed.

"Okay, can you go ahead and replace the mic and the cable to the snake, we don't have time to screw around."

As Peter worked he glanced up at the group of actors still rehearsing in front of him. The girl he'd been checking out from behind was just as shapely from the front. She was engrossed in her script, paying no attention to the other activity going on around her. Peter let his eye linger on her exposed cleavage, then up to her face - where he realized with a start that he knew her.

Connie Clark. Could it really be? The girl from his chemistry class last year. The one he had lusted after from their first meeting. The one who was so intelligent and funny, and so effortlessly sexy. The one, when they were preparing experiments, who he was mentally undressing and imagining naked; wondering what it would be like to feel her body; to suck on her nipples. The one who gave him such strange looks, as if she knew the dirty secrets in his head. But the one who had never given him any encouragement.

Nearly as tall as him, curvy without being fat, with dark hair, fair skin, and green eyes, Connie had featured in the starring role in many of his wet dreams. Even confined in a school uniform, her body was provocative and distracting, with pert breasts whose shape could not be hidden by a uniform blouse.

He had never known that she was an amateur actress; but yet here she was, standing here in front of him in a dress which made her even more sexually desirable than he remembered; she appeared as a radiant example of pure, virginal Victorian womanhood, brimming with suppressed sexuality. Peter felt a stirring in his groin as he watched the exposed tops of her breasts rising and falling with her breath.

"Peter, is that mic back?"

Peter was shocked back into reality. "Yeah Phil, try it now," he replied. At the sound of his voice, all of the actors turned to glance at him - and Connie recognized him with a sweet smile. He nodded at her, as Phil's voice in his headset gave him another task.

3. The Show Must Go On

"Thirty minutes to air, everyone" came the producers voice over the speaker. Peter was with Phil in the audio booth of the truck, watching as the older man carried out his final microphone checks.

"Okay, get Edward to give me a test, Jake," he ordered.

"This is James Dobson and I'm playing Edward, testing one two three, one two..."

"...that's great, next one please Jake - 'Emily'," Phil interrupted.

There was silence.

"Emily?" Phil repeated.

There was silence.

"Something's wrong there Jake, get her to check the connection to the transmitter."

"Uh, Phil, this is Jake, it's connected fine."

"Okay Jake, get her to go to the dressing room, I'll send Mark to change her out. Mark?"

There was no response but silence.

"Hey Mark?"

Nothing.

"Okay kid, looks like he's out of radio range, and that means I've got a job for you. Go find this person who's playing Emily", Phil squinted at his cast list, "Connie Clark is her name." You need to fit this lav mic. You know how to do that, right?"

"Sure, I know how to put it on and check it's working," Peter responded, "but where does it go?"

Phil looked at him, puzzled. "It has to be hidden, and it has to be in the right place to pick up her voice. This is the job Mark and Jake were hoping for earlier. You need to clip this on her bra, kid. It's just part of the job; most of these actresses have done it a thousand times. Just be confident and professional. But here's the thing, you need to be confident, professional, and really quick, because we're on air in like twenty minutes." Phil turned back to his console. "Okay Jake, next is Darcy. Let's give him a test..."

Peter gaped. Was he really going to see Connie stripped to her bra? He reddened.

Phil turned to him, surprised that he was still there. His expression softened. "Hey Peter, it's not a big deal. Trust me, this is probably some dried-up sixty year old. She'll understand why you're there and she won't bite. You have your tool kit? Good to go? Okay?"

"Okay, I guess," replied Peter, who knew that it was definitely not a 'dried-up sixty year old' that he was going to be working on. But he wasn't going to complain.

4. The Rubber and the Road

"Hi Connie!" Phil said, as he walked into the dressing room, deserted except for the costumed actress.

"Hey Phil. How are you doing?" Connie responded with a smile, "I saw you earlier."

"Yeah, just helping out with the sound, I'm here on work experience."

"Yeah, I figured that when I saw you earlier. I'm glad it's you who came to fix me up. We're getting really close to curtain."

"Yeah, uhm, this is a bit embarrassing, but I need to put a new mic on you, under your dress. Can you slip it off for a few minutes?"

Connie's eyes widened. "Is that the only way? I'm sorry, I've never done this kind of thing before. I thought you were just going to fix the old mic! "

Peter was about to answer when the voice came in his headset - "ten minutes to air, positions everyone" - and then a second later, "ten minutes to curtain, everyone" shouted in the corridor outside.

Connie was red faced. She bit her lip. "Okay. Let's do it."

She reached behind herself, unclipped some hooks, and started to pull the dress up, quickly revealing white panties that did little to conceal the shape of her womanhood. Peter had the mic in his fingers, ready to clip it on to her bra quickly so she could get herself decent again without too much embarrassment. He couldn't help watching the shape of her breasts as the fabric of the dress flowed over them.

"How are you going to clip that on me?" Connie asked, slightly muffled, as she worked the dress up over her body.

"I'll just clip it on your bra," Peter replied, matter-of-factly, as Connie finally pulled the dress over her head. He stared in shock.

"But I'm not wearing a bra," Connie said, quite unnecessarily.

Her unexpected, shocking nakedness made Peter gasp. He stared wide-eyed, as she stood there in her underwear, at her exposed grapefruit-sized breasts, each capped by a somehow soft and vulnerable looking pink nipple. For a moment he forgot to breathe.

"Well?" Connie demanded, a trace of amusement in her voice.

"No bra," Peter stammered.

"No shit," Connie giggled. "Can you mic me up?"

"I'll have to tape the mic to your chest, in between your.. uhm.. breasts," Peter offered.

"Do you know how? Have you done that before?"

"Uhm, no. Not really. Not on a woman." Actually, not on a man either, but he didn't feel like admitting that.

"Well, I guess it'll be a learning experience for both of us. Best do it quickly."

Peter knew the theory; he knew how to lay tape on the chest; and tape the mic to that tape; and then build a protective layer of tape on top of the mic to stop the costume rubbing on it, while still allowing free flow of air to pick up the actor's voice. He pulled the roll of surgical tape from his toolbox, and tore a strip off. He gently brought his hands up to Connie's chest and placed the tape between her breasts. Pushing it down he was surprised to feel her trembling a little underneath his touch.

Peter's own hand shook as he positioned the mic with one hand and brought tape up to secure it with the other, a manoeuvre that placed his wrists within a half-inch of her nipples. He felt her gasp as he accidentally brushed one of them with his hand while sticking down the tape; by the time he was done he had "accidentally" brushed against her nipples a dozen times and he felt them growing harder each time. Her face was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat over the skin of her breasts.

Peter held the microphone wire and reached around behind her to tape it there, his body close to hers, their eyes level. She stared into his eyes and deliberately shifted her body, pressing her breasts into his chest and her groin into his. Her eyes widened as she felt his hardness there. Then the wire was taped; Peter pulled back from her, and the moment was over.

"Five minutes to air, everyone."

Peter cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "Could you just, test it."

"This is Connie Clark playing Emily, and I'm here with Peter and he's just miked me up. He did a really good job, he's a real pro. Can you hear me okay?"

"Hey Peter, Phil. That's fine, good job there. Can you get back to the truck now?"

"It's working. I have to go," Phil told Connie, "Uhm, Listen..."

"Sssh," Connie stopped him, her finger up to her lip. She smiled. "Nothing to say. Now go."

5. Fade to black

"Back to network master in four... three... two... one... and we're out. Thank you everyone, that was beautiful."

There is a real thrill in working on live television. Peter felt it now. The sense of accomplishment and of shared achievement was very real.

"Great job guys," Phil told his audio crew. "Everything came together, even if it was a bit last-minute. Where were you just before we went on air Mark? Couldn't get hold of you."

"Uh, call of nature."

"Okay, well make sure you let me know next time. Because I couldn't get you, Peter here had to do a concealed mic for one of the actresses." Phil shot Peter a knowing grin. "So was she an old hag, Peter, or a young hottie?"

Peter blushed. "She was... pretty nice. Actually I know her from school... she was in one of my classes."

"Way to go Peter!" exclaimed Jake. "One night in live television and you're getting all the perks of the job already! Did you feel her up?"

"Leave him alone Jake," grinned Mark. "You're too old to be fantasizing about schoolgirls in their bras."

"Aw, now you're never too old for that," laughed Phil, "but it's important to be professional about these things. I'm sorry if it was awkward for you Peter, especially with it being a classmate of yours. Mark can go remove it from her if you like."

"No, that's okay!" interrupted Peter, "I'll do it!"

"Caught you!" Phil exclaimed, and the others laughed, "The wardrobe people will take it off and send them back to us. But I appreciate your enthusiasm! Let's get started on packing everything up."

6. Tear-down

The last cable Peter had to pull in was the impossibly thick, heavy multicore cable that had connected each of the mics on stage to the truck. It didn't cooperate with things like corners and other objects so Peter had to make a long series of journeys to and from the truck to get it past one obstacle or another. The theatre was almost empty, with only a few low-ranking assistants like himself still around to finish the tear-down.

Sweaty and tired, Peter bent over the cable.

"Hey, Peter," came a voice. Peter recognized it at once. He looked up.

Connie was wearing her regular outfit of jeans and tee-shirt. "Can you come talk? It's important."

"Sure, for a moment."

Connie took Peter's hand and pulled him into the empty office she had come from. She looked up and down the corridor, closed the door firmly, walked over to Peter, and without saying a word, bent down in front of him and reached for his zipper.

"Hey, wait."

Connie flashed him a smiling glance then pulled the button of his pants open. Still without speaking, she quickly pulled his underwear down just enough to let his now-hardening penis spring out. Peter reacted with a gasp of surprise, which turned into a groan of pleasure as she wrapped her lips around his shaft and luxuriously licked his glans. Peter had never been the recipient of a blowjob before.

Peter had no idea what was going on. "I have to finish.... why are you doing this?" he tried to say.

Connie looked up at him, but made no reply except to pull more of his penis into her mouth, and begin sucking with more intensity.

Peter had already been in a highly sexed state from their earlier encounter, and he knew he had no self-control now.

"You're going to make me come. I can't stop it. I'm going to come."

Again, no response, except for a clamping of her mouth around his shaft, and yet further escalation of intensity. Connie's long dark hair tickled Peter's leg as her head moved around his erection. Peter moaned at the rising sensation of pressure and warmth and tension building inside him.

Then it happened; unable to control himself, Peter ejaculated in wave after wave of pleasure. With each contraction of his muscles he felt a new and unimaginably intense crescendo of ecstasy. Connie still had his penis enclosed in her mouth, and every spurt of ejaculation was going deep inside her.

Finally it was over. Shaken, spent, Peter zipped himself up.

"That was... amazing. But why?"

"Go finish your work. I'll come see you then."

"But..."

"Work. Then talk. Okay?"

7. Pep Talk

Their work done, Peter and Phil relaxed for a few moments with their coffees.

"Big night for you, Peter," observed Phil. "Lots of new experiences."

If only he knew, thought Peter. "Yup. It's been amazing."

"It's like a drug addiction, once you get used to this buzz, you can't live without it."

"I know what you mean. I feel it."

"So, uh, that girl you miked up. I got the mic back from wardrobe with surgical tape on it. Funny, I thought, don't usually need tape to attach a mic to a bra. No, no need to explain, wardrobe told me the girl wasn't wearing a bra. Definitely quite an educational night for you, huh?"

"I... it was only a few minutes to go..."

"No need to explain yourself. You did good. Getting the show on the air is the important thing, more important than scruples about body parts. And I don't blame you for not mentioning it in front of those reprobates Jake and Mark. I wouldn't have either."

Phil chuckled. "I've seen a fair few titties in my time doing this job. More than that, too; you'd be surprised the number of big stars that don't wear underwear. And to be honest the professional talent get so used to it that they don't care who sees them. But the first-timers; that's different. It's always a big deal to them. In my experience, if you're the guy who's taping mics to tits and running wires around a woman's body, and she's never had that happen before, there are only two things that can happen. Either she wants to sue you, or, pardon my French, she wants to fuck you."

"Hey, Peter," came a shout from the other end of the truck, where the camera guys were packing away equipment, "there's a girl here looking for you. Name's Connie. Says you know what it's about."

Phil raised a wry eyebrow and gestured for Peter to go. "Better find out which one it is, kid. See you tomorrow!"