Red Carpet Rendezvous--Caprice

by Jaden Tanner

  “And you adhere to these rules?” Maren smiled.

  “Most of the time.”

  Before Maren could pose another question, Greg covered her mouth with another passionate kiss.

  ***

  “Come on, open up,” Caprice shouted and pounded at the door. She hated standing in the hallway of the hotel all dressed up with nowhere to go. The thick carpet under her high heels dampened every sound, but Caprice still wasn’t planning on drawing the attention of all other guests.

  “Merde, I’m leaving,” she hissed angrily just as the door of room 313 opened and a hand grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her into the room

  “For fuck’s sake, what the …?” Caprice tumbled forward into the darkened room and almost fell straight on her face. Two strong manly arms caught her. Once the door had closed again, Caprice was standing in complete darkness.

  “So …” she began “is this the hotel’s haunted mansion ride or did we lose electricity?”

  “Psst …”

  She could feel someone’s hot breath at her ear, which made her tremble.

  One hand was on her butt and purposefully slid under her skirt, fumbled at the edge of her strapless stocking and slid between her ass cheeks to the front to touch her labia.

  “So it’s true, you aren’t wearing any underwear,” a throaty male voice — that didn’t belong to Hatch — said. “And you’re already wet, too.”

  There were obviously two of them there.

  Caprice slowly started to enjoy this game and decided to wait and see. After all, she could always run away later on. Momentarily she was intrigued and turned on by the allure of the unknown.

  “It’s certainly dark in here …” she nevertheless attempted a half-hearted objection.

  “You need to shut up!” Robert Hatch shouted at her. At least she didn’t get the room number wrong. She was starting to like the game the hopeful-leading man was playing with her.

  “I did my research, chérie,” she breathed. “But I never read anywhere that you like it rough.”

  “Then it’s your job that it stays that way, and you keep it quiet,” hissed Hatch right next to her. She reached forward and immediately clenched his hard cock in her hand. She massaged it softly and pulled back his foreskin as far as possible.

  “Do you like that?”

  He wordlessly withdrew from her manipulation.

  “You’re our slave for the night,” she was instructed by the other one, who sounded a lot like Petterson.

  Caprice smiled. One could certainly take pleasure in the eroticism of the utter darkness. The men didn’t know that with Caprice, they hadn’t captured some shy little bunny rabbit they could chasten. But just because it suited her for now, she decided to play along.

  Two hands grabbed her wrists and pushed her arms against her back. Next, they tied a rope around her hands. She was bound and escaping would be difficult for her.

  “What is this bullshit?” she hissed half-heartedly and felt a finger pushing into her pussy and ruthlessly penetrating her.

  “Quiet. You belong to us now.”

  The man had only whispered, and Caprice was positive that the voice came from Robert Hatch.

  “Who are you?”

  “Your master. And tonight you’re ours.” A second finger was forcefully pushed into her pussy, while a skillful thumb massaged her anus.

  “Ah, Bon? So I’ll ask another question: Who am I?” Caprice gasped, who was already lustfully enjoying the penetration.

  “Our slave, you’re not listening to us.” The hand suddenly withdrew and the next moment, she felt a hard object between her thighs making its unbridled way into her already dripping wet cave.

  “Merde … what is that?”

  “The whip.” The rod was being turned inside her pussy and moved back and forth. “We’ll chastise you with it if you don’t listen to us.”

  This thing was harder than any cock and was filling Caprice up completely, reaching every corner of her vagina. She moaned.

  “Here,” hissed a voice when the rod was abruptly pulled from her and held in front of her mouth.

  “Lick it. We want you to taste your own lustfulness before we punish you.”

  “Whoever you are … you’re sick,” Caprice moaned but couldn’t resist putting the whip’s handle between her lips. She licked from it with pleasure as if it was a hard cock instead. The taste of her own pussy juice turned her on, and she was longing for release.

  Two hands grabbed her and roughly moved her over to the bed.

  “Kneel down!” she was told.

  Caprice did what was asked of her. She had long decided to play along.

  As soon as she’d reached a kneeling position, her skirt was ripped off her. The fabric ripped with a terrible sound but now Caprice didn’t care anymore. Clothes she could replace as long as she could get her money’s worth right here and now.

  “If you turned on the lights now you could see my pussy that wants nothing more than you,” Caprice whispered.

  As a reply she received a whip’s lashing on her naked buttocks. The searing pain turned her on and Caprice didn’t give up that easily.

  “Fuck me if you dare,” she added.

  Another crack of the whip. Caprice whimpered.

  The whip’s handle was inserted into her again, but this time into her butt. The rod slid into her in slowly, somewhat gently.

  Someone made her kneel on the bed and freed her breasts. Invisible lips sucked at her nipples and churned her pussy.

  “Blow me,” someone gasped and before Caprice knew where it’d come from, she felt a penis push up against her face. She slightly angled her head and wrapped her lips around the invisible phallus, sucking at it greedily while her tongue danced over the solid tip.

  Apparently there were only two of them, since a third cock hadn’t appeared. Oh yes, she could definitely handle these two, Caprice thought happily, knowing that she had experienced far more extreme orgies. While she indulged the cock of one of the guys, the other one penetrated her with the handle of the whip. When the wooden handle pulled out of her, creating suction, Caprice screamed.

  “Turn around!”

  She was grabbed by her hips and spun around. Caprice was now lying on her back on the bed. Although she was trying very hard to penetrate the darkness with her eyes, she just couldn't succeed.

  It felt like she was blind.

  Two hands grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her thighs apart. A body slid on top of her. Caprice felt an athletic body and a pulsating cock at the entrance to her pussy. She would have loved to passionately scratch his back, but her hands were still bound by the rope.

  Caprice was the two men’s helpless captive.

  The stranger briefly remained on top of her and for a few seconds she could feel his prized piece lying motionlessly on her clitoris. Then the invisible man parted her labia with his cock and rammed it deep inside of her.

  Caprice moaned lasciviously, “You’re such a horny bastard!” she gasped and received a gentle slap in the face as a reply.

  Whoever it was that was screwing her — he did his job damn well.

  It didn’t take long for Caprice to start nearing her orgasm. While she lifted her pelvis toward the stranger, and her climax carried her away, the invisible man pulled out of her and masturbated onto her stomach. His hot juice sloshed into her groin and ran down between her hot glowing labia. Before he was able to spread out his sperm over her body, the man moved aside to make room for his friend, who now penetrated her without warning and continued to pound her without restraint. Caprice, who was still electrified from her first orgasm, immediately came once more. She collapsed, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Caprice could feel that the second guy was now also just about to come. When he interrupted his thrusts, his cock continued to jerk inside her vagina, stimulating her g-spot.

  Caprice was used to many things, but these two guys were driving her insane. Now the first guy’s flaccid cock pushed itself
through her lips and she licked the last drops off his penis head, while the second guy slid out of her. His cock parted her labia, grazed her clit without entering her and a few seconds later, Caprice climaxed for a third time. Faster than expected, the second guy came too: He rubbed his scrotum on her clit and masturbated manically. She felt the heat of his juice on her crotch. A few drops landed on her breasts.

  “Mon dieu,” Caprice gasped, completely exhausted. “That was the most incredible fuck of my life.”

  “Then get out of here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get out!”

  She recognized Robert Hatch’s voice. “Bullshit — you still owe me some answers.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Now she was able to say with absolute certainty that the second voice belonged to the young Tom Petterson

  “You two do this thing together, huh?” Caprice asked in surprise.

  “Only if it involves women,” Hatch laughed.

  “But aren’t you guys total enemies?”

  “Says who?”

  “The grapevine.”

  “Forget the rumors. And now get out of here, before someone catches us.” Hatch turned on a little lamp.

  Both men were standing naked in front of the bed. The tips of their cocks were flushed from fucking; their faces sweaty.

  Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a photo of both of them right now, Caprice thought to herself.

  “Spit it out — what’s going on behind the scenes during production?” She sat up in bed while Petterson was releasing her tied wrists. “Who’s going to be playing ‘Christopher Love’?” She grinned salaciously. “You both deserve to play him, if I do say so myself.”

  “Neither of us. This is all a huge PR stunt the production company dreamt up. And now get out.” Hatch tossed her clothes in her direction and pulled her off the now completely messed up bed in order to push her out the door.

  Before she knew it, she was standing in the hotel hallway in stockings and high heels. The door was locked, the men inside. She wouldn’t be able to find out anything else here. So for now she resigned herself to her fate.

  Caprice made sure she got to her room and into her shower without anyone seeing her. The trip to London had been worth it, because she’d already gotten the answer to an important question. There was just one thing that was still bugging her about the whole thing: If neither Petterson nor Hatch were going to play ‘Christopher Love,’ who would the production company conjure up to play leading role?

  ***

  “The breakdown service has arrived.”

  The butler stepped into Greg Wilson’s living room without making a sound. He graciously ignored the fact that his employer and his guest were completely naked, but Maren was embarrassed nevertheless that the chubby Filipino man was seeing her in this quite unequivocally intimate situation. She pulled her legs to her body and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “We’ll be there in a second.” Greg didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all by the situation. The butler gestured at taking a bow and retreated. Greg got up and tossed a dressing gown at Maren. She quickly slipped into it and rose as well.

  “So, we should go check out your car now,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  He hesitated. “Something wrong?”

  “No, should there be?” Her smile floundered.

  A minute ago I was sleeping with one of the most sought-after men in Hollywood and now he’s treating me like a guest he’s just about able to tolerate — what could be wrong? Everything inside her was screaming out but Maren tried hard to conceal her true feelings. To be honest, she really hadn’t expected all that much from this date.

  She had enjoyed the sex in all its animalistic passion and now it was time to disappear back into her humble life as a tabloid reporter.

  They’d slept together, had their fun and now Maren knew for certain that the rumors about his homosexuality being the reason Wilson was no longer playing the role of ‘Christopher Love’ in Dreams of Passion were completely unfounded. It seemed that the production company really did fire him because he had driven up his fees too high.

  Maren’s mission was completed and she now mentally prepared herself for the end to what had been a very promising night in Bel Air.

  “Will I see you again?” he suddenly asked.

  Maren shrugged. “Do you always jump into bed with women this quickly?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I’m not a ladies man, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And not gay either,” Maren answered, startled by her own rashness.

  The smile on Greg’s lips disintegrated. “I hate these stupid rumors.”

  “I’ve discovered that there’s no truth to them,” Maren answered flirtatiously. “I heard them when I read of the problems the Dreams of Passion production was having. The article was saying that they couldn’t keep you because you’re apparently homosexual.”

  “That’s not it at all.” Now Greg Wilson had to smirk. “I’m going to reprise my role as ‘Christopher Love’ once the media circus has calmed down.”

  Maren stopped short. “The buzz surrounding the movie’s filming?”

  “No, the buzz surrounding the impending online voting. The production company is hoping for a huge media campaign to pique people’s interest. All this is one big marketing ploy dreamt up by some marketing strategists in their little offices.” He bit his lower lip and looked as if he’d just divulged a big secret. “Sorry — You didn’t hear it from me.” He placed a soft kiss on Maren’s forehead. “And if I read about it in some newspaper, I’ll know that it’s because of you.” It was an implicit threat and Maren suddenly felt creeped out by his cold and dismissive demeanor. She started to understand what the consequences would be for Greg, were she to spill the beans. And she knew that there would be countless women in the world who would try to exploit the situation and put Greg under pressure with this knowledge. But she didn’t have any kind of ambitions to profit from the hot night she’d spent in the Hollywood star’s bed. Quite the opposite: She felt a little sorry for Greg. He was under extreme pressure and had to play a role some people were just forcing on him — a role that was defining his life and had nothing to do with the Greg Wilson, the hero on the silver screen.

  “Who knows about this?” Maren asked.

  “Me and Emmi Swanson, the producer.”

  “That should suffice,” Maren smiled, satisfied with her mission in Bel Air.

  ***

  A few days later, when Maren and Caprice stepped into the editorial offices of FLASH, they ran into Stein. He had bought himself a coffee from the machine down the hall and was lamenting the fact that his outrageously expensive designer espresso machine George Clooney had even advertised on TV, had already broken down.

  “Ah, there they are — my best reporters,” he called out in excitement and motioned in the direction of his office. “Come on, I want to know everything!” Without waiting for their reply, the Editor in Chief walked ahead.

  “Everything?” Caprice asked and winked conspiratorially at Maren. “No, Walter, you definitely don’t want to know everything.”

  Stein ignored her objection. He walked around his desk, took a sip from his coffee, burned his lips and cursed.

  The two women watched their boss with amusement.

  “So?” Stein said, forcing a jovial smile. “I’m all ears. What’s going on with Dreams of Passion — who’s going to be playing the leading role?”

  “Greg Wilson,” Caprice and Maren burst out in unison.

  “But he plays for the other team,” Stein interjected, slightly confused.

  Maren shook her head. “No, Greg Wilson isn’t gay,” she said a little too quickly. “And yes, he will still be playing the part of ‘Christopher Love,’ despite all rumors to the contrary.”

  “But the online voting …”

  “Forget all that circus,” Caprice waved him aside. “They hired those young actors only to stir up publ
icity. Petterson and Hatch are nothing but advertising media with … well, somewhat extraordinary aspirations. But they definitely won’t be seen on the big screen, apart from maybe as extras.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Just trust me.”

  “And how do you know that Wilson isn’t gay?” Walter Stein looked inquisitively at Maren. When her cheeks turned red, he waved it aside. “Forget it, I really don’t need to know everything. But between you and me and the gatepost: Where did you guys get all this information?”

  “Straight from the horse’s mouth,” Caprice replied. “I know that Wilson is under contract from Emmi Swanson.”

  “And how come she told you that, while making the rest of the world take part in a world-wide guesswork game that’s costing a fortune?”

  Caprice shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “Mon dieu, you really want the blow by blow account don’t you, Walter?”

  “Out with it!” Walter Stein demanded.

  “Well … I had the opportunity to have an, erm, pretty intense conversation with Emmi Swanson,” Caprice began and started fondling her petrol colored suit. “She plays for the other team.”

  “She’s a lesbian?” Stein burst out.

  “You could say that,” Caprice nodded. “And I got my information from her.” She placed her freshly manicured hands on her lap and crossed her legs. “However, I’m not allowed to talk about it, otherwise we’ll get a huge penalty. It’s crap, I know.”

  “You can say that again,” Stein grumbled, obviously disappointed. That moment, the office door flew open and John Feyn, tired but apparently in a good mood, burst into the room.

  “Great that you’re all here,” he called out and scratched his stubbled chin. “I only just got back from Hollywood. The photo shoot with Chrissy took a little longer than expected … but she told me that Greg Wilson will play the leading role and that all the other speculations are complete bollocks.” He paused when he saw how Maren and Caprice’s eyes widened. “Please don’t ask me how I got that information, I really gave it my all.” The photographer grinned widely. “Shame that we’re not able to publish this news.”