The script hit the desk with a thump and her long sigh fell over the front page. Lacey read the title over and over, rubbing her temples, wondering who to call first, husband or agent.
She didn't want to look weak, not now, not for anybody.
Every page—and she had read them all—every page had
LACEY CHABERT
printed across in red ink. It had been exhilarating at first but surprisingly, that they so explicitly wanted her for the part, that she would not have to go through any audition process, any bidding war, that she wouldn't feel the pressure of another actress one phonecall away from her role, surprisingly was more pressure. Or a new kind of pressure: she couldn't say no.
And didn't want to. The movie was for the 12/23 slot, the most important one of the holiday season on Hallmark. This year and for the first time, the execs were asking her to lead their flagship. If she succeeded, she wouldn't be just a recurring name on their payroll anymore, she could have her seat on the board of directors.
She took her phone and called
HUBBIE
.
"Hey babe. Yeah...I read the whole thing, it's really good... But I think we may have a problem."
*****
'Twas the night before the night before Christmas, when all through the house the Hallmark channel was blaring.
Everything was there, the fire in the hearth, the stockings nailed to the mantelpiece and a few Amazon packages waiting under the star-topped tree; everything but the kids who had been sent to the grandparents because Lacey & David thought they deserved a few days off before the big family reunion in the Hamptons. And a fuck or two.
This last part done and overdone, they were comfy and snug, nestled in the couch together, with cups of eggnog, truffles and some lube at hand, settled for a nice winter's night and waiting for the TV-special to begin. Her TV-special. The first step in the peak of her adult career.
She was excited. Obviously not for the plot, as she could have summed it up before even reading the script, but for her performance. She had invested so much in her preparation for the role, much more than what would appear onscreen and it was a personal victory adding to the professional achievement. Like Daniel Day-Lewis mastering an accent, like Keanu Reeves knowing kung fu, she hired the best coach in the industry, went through months of training and now she was about to show the whole world (and her beloved one, holding her tight in his arms) what being a pro meant.
Hallmark Channel: The Heart of TV
, announced a male Transatlantic voice and the title faded in:
A Merry Christmas in my Ass
Lacey Chabert first billed.
The happy couple cheered and snuggled some more.
"Twenty bucks the first scene is you in New York being overworked!" David sneered.
And next thing you know, Beth (Lacey) was in her office in New York and she was overworking.
Dressed of a stern business suit, surrounded by computer screens, brightness cranked up to maximum reflecting on her glasses, she couldn't answer her ringing landline as she was answering her two cellphones, shouting at her intern, signing documents with one hand and smoking three cigarettes at the same time between two lines of coke with the other. Her bossy boss's head was peeking through the door regularly to deliver a sample of his own shouts, two window washers were loudly washing the windows and to even more thoroughly illustrate her career-oriented mindset, there was a product placement for Starbucks on her desk.
But she was still not as busy as her assistant, whose head was bobbing between her legs.
The girl had pulled her skirt up and was passionately sucking on Beth's underworked clitoris.
Lacey, the real one, the one on the couch, getting all flustered and handsy, commented:
"It was such a frustrating scene to shoot."
"How that?"
"I really had to concentrate on my lines and all the "mise-en-scène", and the girl, it's Georgia Jones, she does lesbian porn only, you canNOT imagine how good she is at eating pussy...but I couldn't really enjoy it."
"Better than me?"
"I... Shut up, you're gonna miss the best part."
David allowed himself a smirk. He knew what she meant; you have to when you're married to an actress. He looked at her and with the same smirk enjoyed the fleeting reactions on her face as she was watching herself on the TV, recalling all the sensations of the scene. She was immovably focused, like an athlete watching the tape. Exactly like that, actually. This was the real best part, always. He knew that if he pulled on the waistband of her sweatpants he would see her clitoris engorged, flexing, convinced it was still being sucked on by this Georgia Something.
It brought a dark spot on the crotch of his boxers and Lacey, as focused as she was, noticed the bucking tent eventually.
"If you're already this hard, you're gonna have an aneurysm before the end credits," she said.
"Don't set the bar too high."
"Your bar?"
And cut to the next scene.
Beth, the big city working girl, couldn't escape a massive downsizing, despite her best effort, despite the expert titjob she gave her boss, and in this current economy, it would be hard to find a new job, and afford her fancy apartment.
So off she went, back to her hometown, disenchanted with postmodern life but not as much as she was upset to move back with her folks in Bumblefuck, Wyoming. There was no Wi-Fi there, there was still her posters of NSYNC on the walls of her bedroom and to make things worse, it was Christmas time.
Lacey checked her phone:
"Got a text from Neve, she says 'Congrats for your big night! I'm watching with all my battery-powered friends.'"
"Cool... What's up with her, she got any projects in the works?"
"Yeah a
Scream
reboot, it's gonna be called
Anal Scream
or something."
"Subtle!"
The three acts of the movie went on with as much subtlety and tons of fake snow. Beth found back her roots and learned back the spirit of Christmas. She even met an old flame, played by Alexa Vega, tsundere at first but then after many conflicts and confrontations, they became together the two meanings of the L-word.
The snow falling, the decoration lights switching on around them, Beth and Linda (Alexa) had their first kiss in the middle of the fountain square and got a slow clap from the crowd and the blessing of the real Santa Claus himself (Ron Jeremy, ladies and gentlemen).
David & Lacey were shedding one-eyed tears, struggling not to touch themselves from all the emotion. They were waiting for the climax, a most important scene not so much to the Hallmark brand than to Lacey the thespian, as all her hard work, all her sacrifices had lead to this sequence.
Naturally it was on Christmas Eve and Beth was about to get covered in gifts by the Christmas tree. Eight black-nosed cocks and a red-nosed one, all for herself.
It was no surprise for David, he knew the story; he knew everything, how much she had been paid, how hard she had to train, he had been the first informed. And tonight he was proud of his wife.
The big scene started with a 69 for the 24
th
, Linda on top, trying to outdo Georgia Jones.
"We were so nervous," Lacey said, "it's the first scene we shot together, we had just met the day before at the table read."
"What's a table read for porn like?"
"Lotsa bedheads... lotsa coffee..."
David waited for the punchline...but there was none, so he turned back to the TV where Linda was cumming, squirting all over Beth magnificent chest. It was supposed to symbolize the cleansing of the load Beth took from her ungrateful boss in Scene 2. That's what the director said.
Cue the nine well-hung reindeer. Beth prepared for her well-seasoned gangbang. And Lacey prepared all giddy for the well-deserved bang of her career. She threw all her clothes around and wrapped David and herself in a blanket.
"Can I open my presents?"
"It's not midnight yet!"
"Oh please! just one!"
"Alright..."
Lacey reached for the buttplug that was waiting by the bottle of lube on the coffee table and, after adding some eggnog-flavored spit onto it, locked it in her ass with a short moan of relief.
"Can I open another one?"
"Heh... go ahead..."
The blanket joined her clothes on the floor and then fell David's pants too.
Lacey grasped the penis she loved more than any other and took its head in her mouth.
"You're gonna miss the best part!" David stammered.
But Lacey was good at multitasking, lips on the tip and eyes on the screen where, under the supervision of Linda, the nine fellows were using every bit of her character. It was an overwhelming tornado of dicks but not above the clarifying power of film editing. Beth was sucking and stroking and rubbing and a lucky few even had a round trip in her pussy, but the ever-increasing flow of images was masterfully pulling the action towards its heart: her horny ass.
At a nod of her girlfriend, Beth took the stiffest she could find around and guided it in line with her tight puckered hole. Another nod and she impaled herself to the brim. The soundtrack went sleazy. The all-anal montage had begun.
The so-called stiffest had liked to believe he was pounding Beth/Lacey but it was the other way around. The actress was pumping his dick mercilessly and he very quickly realized his pro stamina would be put to the test.
The frame took a long time before pulling out and focusing back on the eight other members. The editing was still making it look like Beth was taking care of them all at the same time, with every square inch of skin available. But it was only a waiting line, and without any warning, without a care for anyone's pride, she switched to another cock in her ass.
Lacey let go of her husband with a wet pop: "Oh there was an unscripted bit, I'm sure they left it in, look!"
The camera isolated one of the men (Dasher or Dancer or Prancer or whatever) who was fucking her feet. They were slick with his precum and he was throbbing more than it was professionally acceptable.
The close-up was standing out from the other shots by its length and eventually what the camera operator had felt would happen did happen: the guy groaned, sounding like he knew he messed up but also like he knew he was cumming between Lacey Chabert's toes, and his jizz sprayed against her soles with all the more force.
Lacey moaned, realizing that probably every foot fetishist in North America was blowing a wad at this very moment. She sent a text to her manager, asking for early ratings.
Then, giving David a peck on the cockhead, she sat back next to him, bringing the blanket with her.
While nestling them both up, she explained: "The director shouted at him for wasting his first load and losing his erection. But I shut him up."
"Oh look at her, Miss Chabert already acting like a big shot producer!"
