by Velvet
“Here”—the receptionist handed her a number—“take this and wait your turn,” she said, barely looking up.
Terra read the number “205” and put the orange ticket on the desk. “Excuse me, but I have an appointment. I’m not here for the cattle call.”
“Look, this is an open casting, so either you wait or you leave. The choice is yours,” the receptionist said in no uncertain terms.
FK hadn’t said anything about an open casting. Terra was tempted to call her agent and tell her that she was leaving, but she knew that Feodora would be incensed. Besides, her days of waiting around for an audition would soon be over. She picked up the number and fought her way back near the elevators where there was room to breathe.
Nearly three hours later, her number was finally called, and she walked unenthusiastically into the audition room.
“Let me have your ticket,” said the casting assistant. She then asked, “Do you have a head shot and résumé?”
Terra handed over the number, then reached into her bag and gave the woman her comp sheet. “Here you go.”
The woman quickly looked it over and wrote “205” on the top left-hand corner. “Stand over there.” She pointed to a black taped X on the floor. “State your name, and then speak your lines directly into the camera,” she instructed.
Terra put her tote on the floor by the door, walked over to the X, straightened her shoulders, exhaled, said her name, and began her lines, “Beauty this natural”—she rubbed her cheek—“can only be Dove.”
“Cut,” yelled the director. “The line is ‘Beauty this natural comes from only one beauty bar…Dove.’ Not ‘can only be Dove.’ Run it again. Are you ready?” he asked Terra.
“Yes.”
“Take two!” he yelled.
“Beauty this natural comes from Dove,” she said, forgetting the rest of the line.
“Cut!” he yelled again. “You forgot to rub your face, and you forgot the rest of the line. Okay, this is your last chance,” he spat out.
Terra was so nervous at this point that she jumbled up the lines and added a few new ones, “Dove is a natural beauty bar, and you can only get this face from Dove.”
“Get her out of here! She’s wasting my time,” yelled the temperamental director. As Terra was leaving he added, “And next time learn your lines!”
Terra rushed over to the door, snatched up her tote bag, and nearly ran out of the room. She was beyond embarrassed. At home in front of the mirror she had the lines down cold, but in front of the camera, the words just wouldn’t come out right. It was like she had some kind of unexpected stage fright. Terra jabbed at the elevator button. She wanted to escape with a quick exit but the elevator was taking forever. As she waited, she pulled out her cell phone and called Leroy.
“I’m ready. Get here as soon as you can.”
“No problem, Ms. Benson. I’m on my way,” he said and hung up.
When Terra reached the lobby, she pushed through the revolving doors and rushed out of the building, but Leroy was nowhere in sight. Traffic was gridlocked on Broadway and on Forty-fourth Street, and she realized that it would take him at least ten minutes to come across town.
“Damn, I should’ve called him twenty minutes ago,” she said aloud, and began pacing the sidewalk like a madwoman.
The more she paced, the angrier she became. Walking blindly into an open call had rattled her nerves. She couldn’t believe that she had blown a stupid commercial with only one line. Had Feodora told her it was a cattle call, she definitely would not have gone. She hated being grouped with the other wannabe starlets. Being an heiress, Terra was born with an innate sense of entitlement. Her last name held open doors that were closed to the masses, and she wasn’t used to being treated like a commoner. Well, once Sage gets his studio up and running, I won’t have to subject myself to these humiliating cattle calls anymore.
Terra stopped pacing and began to calm down. The more she thought about Sage’s studio, the better she felt. She was so upset that she totally forgot to change her clothes. Terra dashed back into the building and noticed there was a ground-level café.
“May I use your restroom?” she asked the hostess.
“Sure. It’s in the back, the first door to your right.”
“Thank you,” Terra said, and went straight to the back.
Fortunately it was one of those single private restrooms with a huge mirror and sink. Terra wasted no time making her transformation.
“Perfect,” she commented to her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with her look, she stuffed the boring audition clothes in her tote and headed for the door. Leroy was waiting curbside as she exited the building.
“Fifty-fourth and Park,” she told him, and then pulled out her cell phone to call Sage. “Hey there,” she said, once his secretary put her through. “I’m on my way. I should be there in about ten.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs.”
“I was thinking that we could grab a quick bite at Bryant Park Grill, and then head over to the Garden,” she suggested.
“Sounds good. See you in ten,” he said, and hung up.
Terra used the final minutes before picking him up to tweak her makeup and hair. She spritzed her neck with L’Heure Magique, and then sprayed the delicious scent between her boobs, just in case things got steamy and Sage wanted a little more than a good night kiss after the concert.
The car was pulling up just as Sage was exiting his Park Avenue office. He spotted Terra’s silver Maybach sitting curbside and walked over to the car. The driver greeted him on the passenger side and opened the door.
“Hey, you.” Terra smiled happily.
Sage opened his mouth to speak, but was stunned into silence by Terra’s appearance. Her usual sophisticated, couture-suit, pearl-clad look was replaced by ripped jeans, a black leather bustier, and five-inch stilettos. Her hair, which was normally pulled back in a chignon, was loose and wavy, giving her a wild, East Village type vibe. Usually she only wore a pat of lip gloss and a light dusting of translucent powder, but tonight her lips were ruby red, her eyelashes were layered with mascara, and her cheeks were rosy from blush. Sage didn’t know what to say; it was as if he were looking at a totally different person. He had never seen her look so vibrant and alive. Not that he didn’t like the old Terra, but this new and improved version was much better. Now that she had literally let her hair down, maybe they could finally have some fun. “Wow,” he said, “I like the new look.”
“Thanks.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Since we’re going to see Madonna, I wanted to blend in and not stand out in one of my Chanel suits.” She chuckled. In truth, Terra could care less about blending in. The only reason why she was dolled up was to catch Sage’s eye. And apparently it was working. He was looking at her from her carefree hairdo to her pointed-toe shoes. It’s just a matter of time before I have him drinking my golden pee, she thought, and smiled ever so slightly. Terra gave Leroy the address of the restaurant, and within ten minutes they were pulling up in front of Bryant Park Grill.
A jazz rendition of James Blunt’s “Beautiful” was playing softly in the background as they made their way to the hostess podium. Terra gave her name and they were seated immediately. The waiter promptly came over, took their water request, and described the specials for the evening.
“Tonight we have roasted lobster chowder, and for our entrée, the chef has prepared braised short ribs marinated in cognac served with a medley of baby vegetables and whipped potatoes.”
“That sounds good, but I’d like to look over the menu,” Terra told the waiter.
“Can I bring you cocktails while you’re deciding?”
“Yes, I’ll have a Belvedere martini with a twist,” she said.
Sage looked at her strangely. He had never known Terra to drink anything stronger than champagne. He ordered the same, and once the waiter was gone, he asked, “Since when did you start drinking vodka?”
“I’ve been drinking
vodka since college,” she said casually, as if it were no big deal.
“I didn’t know that.”
She shrugged her shoulders and said suggestively, “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Sage smiled at the thought of seeing a different side of Terra. She had always presented to him her conservative side, but tonight the debutante was gone, replaced by a young vibrant spirit. He was thrilled at the prospect of getting to know Terra the rebel. Sage had dreamed of the day when she would see him in a different light, and not as a pseudo brother, and from the way she was beaming at him from across the table, it seemed that that day had finally come. Maybe she is into me, and not just after a movie role, he thought.
“Sooo,” she said, nearly purring, “what’s going on with the studio?” She reached across the table and stroked the top of his hand.
I should’ve known this was coming, he thought. Sage eased his hand away from hers. “It’s a work in progress,” he responded in a deadpan tone. Sage despised being manipulated, and suddenly didn’t feel like going to the concert. He excused himself to the men’s room, called his secretary at home, and told her to call him on his cell in five minutes. When he returned to the table, Terra was sitting erect, with her back arched and her boobs pointed forward, nearly spilling out of the bustier, trying to entice him.
“I ordered the pumpkin ravioli as an appetizer. It’s delicious. I’m sure you’ll love it.” She smiled warmly.
“Sounds good. I love pum…” Before he could finish the sentence, his phone buzzed inside of his breast pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, and answered the call. “Hello?…What?…Why didn’t you call me earlier?…Okay, okay, I’ll be right there,” he said urgently, and flipped the phone shut.
Terra saw the look of panic on his face. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s my dad. He’s been rushed to the hospital,” he lied. “I hate to run out on you, but I need to go and find out what happened. I’m so sorry about dinner and the concert.” He stood up to leave.
“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t I go with you?” she offered.
“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Stay and enjoy dinner.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Have a good time at the concert. I’ll call you later.” And with that, he was headed for the door.
Terra sat there dumbfounded, and watched his retreating back as he fled the restaurant, leaving her standing there speechless.
9
MISSY AND two of her stripper friends from Scores were at BD2 to let their hair down after a hard night’s work. At the Black Door, they didn’t have to slither their bodies down a chrome pole, or give endless lap dances to horny men begging for a little attention, or fend off unwanted advances from love-starved husbands. Here they were the clients and their only job was to have a good time. They didn’t have to worry about convincing a client to spend hundreds of dollars in the VIP room to make their quota. If they chose to fuck a server or two, the decision was totally up to them. Since Missy and her friends worked in the adult entertainment business, they were offered a special discounted membership, as an industry courtesy. Missy was so busy with work and her extracurricular activities that she’d only been to the club a couple of times, and had yet to experience all of the chambers that BD2 had to offer. On her previous visits, she’d danced the night away in the Studio 54-like disco, but tonight she and her friends were starving, so before letting their hair down on the dance floor, they decided to go to the Aphrodisiac Bistro and grab some much needed fuel.
The food in the Aphrodisiac Bistro wasn’t the only enticing element; the decor was just as stimulating. Crush burgundy velvet, high-backed booths lined the perimeter, and in the center of the intimate room was a buffet featuring oysters on the half shell, escargot, mussels in black truffle oil, fresh asparagus, and chocolate-dipped bananas. A statue of a Greek god stood at the end of the six-foot-long buffet with an erect penis, from which champagne flowed freely. There were no bright lights, only vanilla-scented candles to heighten the senses, giving the entire room a plush and sexy vibe.
“Hmm, these oysters are to die for,” Luscious said, slipping a mollusk off the shell into her mouth.
Princess was busy sucking down her own oyster and nodded her head in agreement. Missy, Luscious, and Princess—not their real names of course—started dancing at Scores around the same time, and since they were all newbies, they joined forces and became fast friends. Until she started dancing at Scores, Missy’s life had been full of high drama and turmoil. She wanted different things in life and her family just didn’t understand her blind ambition, so instead of accepting her, they shut her out. Immediately after college graduation, she left her small Illinois town and headed east to New York in the hopes of furthering her dance career. She auditioned for chorus roles in Broadway musicals. She even auditioned for a Rockette spot at Radio City, but didn’t make the cut. With her savings quickly dwindling, Missy heard about an opening at Scores. Working at a strip joint was not her first choice, but she had no other options. The moment Missy entered the club for the audition she realized that Scores was not some sleazy strip joint, but a classy gentlemen’s club. With a BA in dance, Missy’s moves were off the chain, and within a few months she had regulars who came to the club just to see her perform. And for the first time in her life, she felt at home.
“You can have those slimy oysters.” She turned her nose up in disgust. “I prefer seven inches of chocolate perfection,” Missy said, sucking the tip of a chocolate-covered banana as if she were giving head.
“All you think about is dick,” said Luscious. “Either you’re talking about how some dude fucked you up the ass, or how you sucked the cum right out of his pee hole.”
“Don’t get mad at me ’cause you’re a dyke and don’t like dick,” Missy shot back.
“I ain’t mad. I just get tired of you talking about men. Is that all you think about?” Luscious pinned her with a questioning look.
“If it wasn’t for my skills at giving good head, I would have never made it through college,” Missy told her.
“What do you mean by that?” Princess asked.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time, but tonight I want to find a server with a dick as pretty and perfect as this banana so I can suck him off. The only aphrodisiac I have a taste for tonight is some hot creamy cum,” Missy stated, and scanned the room for a victim.
Luscious rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you all later. I’m going to the Pink Room for a little fun.” The Pink Room was where the lesbians usually congregated.
“I don’t know why you have to get her riled up. You know she hates talking about men,” Princess said once Luscious had walked away.
“If she hates men so much, why in the hell is she working at Scores, where men paw at her all night long?”
“Because the money is good, that’s why. Isn’t that why we’re all there?” Princess asked, turning the question back to Missy.
Missy hesitated a second. “I guess you have a point. But trust me, my days of stripping for a living are almost over. Once I save enough money, I’m outta there,” she stated with conviction.
Princess had heard that line at least a million times, and was unimpressed. Every stripper she knew had a plan to quit the business—a plan that never materialized—including herself. “Isn’t that what we all say?”
Missy could hear the skepticism in her friend’s voice, but instead of detailing her exit strategy, she chose to take the fifth. “Now that one looks like he’s packing,” she said, changing the subject and nodding in the direction of a masked, buffed server wearing a snug wife-beater and an even snugger pair of blue jeans.
Mason saw the two gorgeous women standing at the buffet and slowly strutted toward them. He dreamed about the woman he met at Borders, and had woken up that morning with a massive hard-on. He tried all day to suppress his lustful feelings, but his dick had other plans. Now he was on the prowl again, looking for a little
action. The women both wore elaborate masks. The taller of the two had on a multicolored mask with long pink, yellow, teal, red, and tangerine plumes adorning each side. The shorter woman’s mask was pewter with gold and black feathers near the top and bottom of her eyes, and from a distance the feathers looked like giant eyelashes.
“Ladies, are you having a good time?” Mason asked once he had made his way over to where they stood.
Missy looked at his well-defined pecs and the imprint of his ripped six-pack, and said, “It could be better.”
“How so?” Mason prided himself on accommodating his clientele, and was anxious to hear comments on ways to improve the club.
“Well for starters—” Missy slowly walked around him, sizing up his goods. She could see a hefty bulge protruding through his jeans. From experience, she knew some men had heavy balls that made it appear as if they had long dongs, but that wasn’t always the case. “—how big is your dick?”
Mason chuckled slightly. He hadn’t expected her to say that, but this was the Black Door and just about anything was said and done within the confines of these walls. “It’s big enough to choke a horse,” he said confidently.
“Well, I’m not a horse, but I assure you I won’t choke while I’m going down on your dick,” Missy said, rubbing her hand against his crotch.
Mason felt his manhood spring to life at her touch. “Is that a fact?”
“It’s more than a fact; it’s a promise.”
“Promises are made to be kept, and not broken,” he teased back.
She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go back to one of the booths. I can show you better than I can tell you.”
As they started to walk away, Princess spoke up. “Don’t leave me out; I wanna cum too!”
Mason took her hand. “Don’t worry, Honey; I got enough dick for the both of you.”
The three of them walked hand in hand to an empty booth, but instead of settling in at the table, the women sat Mason down and stood over him. Missy unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and took out his swollen cock. She then got on her knees and took his bulbous head into her mouth. Princess slid her tube top down to her waist, allowing her surgically enhanced titties to spring loose. She leaned over so that her nipples brushed his lips. Mason reached up and grabbed both of her titties and began sucking one and then the other. Her nipples were burgeoning into hardness with each lick of his tongue. Mason was a breast man, and he loved to feel a woman’s nipples harden inside of his wet mouth.
