It's hard not to love Jessica Chastain. I try to treat each guest as her own woman and not compare her to others, but if I did have some kind of ranking system for my female visitors then she'd be at the top of it. Stunningly gorgeous with a body to die for? Check. World famous actress with awards up the wazoo? Check. Fantastic in bed with a pussy that tastes like heaven and feels even better? Check. Add a touch of winning personality, Mensa-like intelligence and world class culinary skills and you have the recipe for the perfect woman.
Then, just when you think she can't get any better, she organises a trip to Big Bear Lake with Anne Hathaway, where we shoot a tape so XXX-rated it would make Paris Hilton blush. Then she brings her around to my place a week or so later where we fuck like bunnies in front of Emily Blunt.
Then
as she's leaving she tells me she's given my number to a friend of hers who'll be calling me in a couple of weeks when she returns from her press tour. I didn't get a chance to ask who it was, but given that her taste in women (i.e Anne) is almost as good as her taste in men (i.e me), I had a feeling I wouldn't be disappointed.
And well, I wasn't. I tried to wait until this woman called me so her identity would be a surprise, but curiosity got the better of me and after a week of impatient waiting I texted Jessica and asked who it was. At first she wouldn't tell me but my persistence wore off and after hounding her incessantly for days on end she revealed her friend to be Bryce Dalls Howard.
Me: Damn. Didn't know you knew her. Are you part of some Hot Redheads Club or something?
Jessica: [laugh emoji] Kinda. It's called The Cast of
The Help
[wink emoji]. Emma Stone is in that too.
Me: Fuck. Why haven't I seen this movie?!
Jessica: I don't know [gasp emoji]. I thought you'd seen all my movies.
Me: Well I definitely saw the last one you were in. I think it's your best work [smirk emoji]
Jessica: [laugh emoji] Is that a fact?
Me: Yep. I should know, I've watched it enough times.
Jessica: Me too. In fact, I'm watching it right now [wink emoji]
Me: Really? [raised eyebrow emoji]
Jessica: Yep.
This message came accompanied by a short video clip. I pressed play, and sure enough, our movie was playing on her huge TV. She was about halfway through the first scene and as I enjoyed the sights and sounds of me fucking her on the backseat of my car, a different kind of noise- a low, buzzing hum- began to mingle with the sounds of the movie.
Me: What's that noise I can hear? [thinking emoji]
Jessica: This?
A clip was attached to this message too. Filmed from her POV, it showed her naked from the waist down (probably the waist up too, but the bottom half was all I could see) with a bullet vibrator held to the nub of her clit.
Me: Masturbating to yourself? Bit narcissistic, wouldn't you say? [wink emoji]
Jessica: I can stop if you like?
Which I took to mean 'I can stop sending you clips', rather than 'I can stop masturbating'.
Me: No, no. Please, continue.
And continue, she did. She sent me a few more clips then went one better, calling me on Zoom so I could watch the whole thing. Obviously watching her jerk off made me want to jerk off too, and seeing a fullscreen shot of my rockhard cock made her want to jerk off again, this time with her fingers (two inside her and two on her clit). And seeing her...well, you get the idea. Suffice it to say, I lost almost an entire day doing that, but I definitely wasn't complaining.
Anyway, enough about Miss Chastain. Onto Miss Howard. I got a call the following Friday as I was seeing a guest to the door. I answered the phone like I had every time that week: hoping it would be her. And this time, it was.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Howard," I said. "I've heard a lot about you."
Usually, when addressing a guest as 'Miss', she'd insist on dropping the formalities, and I found it interesting to note that Bryce (or Miss Howard, as I guess she still was) did no such thing.
"Likewise," was all she said.
"So you're interested in booking a stay?" I asked, choosing to just avoid her name altogether.
"Uh huh."
I've gotta say, I've had more talkative guests.
We landed on a date and I asked her if she had any special requests.
"I like to be in control."
That wasn't something I heard a lot, but given her icy demeanour it didn't come as a huge surprise.
"I see. So what exactly do..." I started, and was quickly cut off by...
"Uh uh uh." I could almost hear her shaking her head through the phone line. "Your safeword is 'grape'. That's all you need to know."
And with that, the phone went dead. Well...this could be eventful.
*
Bryce arrived a little after 2pm on a Friday afternoon. The doorbell rang and I had a quick look in the mirror before going to answer it. I was dressed casually, as I often was for my guest's arrival- shorts and t-shirt. It was no frills, of course, but I'd never had any complaints.
I opened the door and there stood Bryce, looking every bit as stony as she'd sounded on the phone.
"Hi, Miss Howard," I said, attempting to break the thick layer of ice. "Welcome to my home. It's great to finally meet you in person."
I offered her a hand but Bryce ignored it, practically pushing straight past me as she strode through the doorway.
"What do you call this?" she said, looking me up and down. "Do you always greet your guests dressed like that?"
I was taken aback. Even with her demeanour as frosty as it was, I certainly hadn't expected her to critique my dress sense.
"Umm...yeah, usually," I answered honestly.
"Pfft!" Bryce scoffed. "What sort of place are you running here? Go and fetch my bags."
"Err...yes, ma'am."
Well, this was different. Whether this is how Bryce always was offscreen or if this steely bearing had been cultivated just for me, I wasn't entirely sure. But either way it was about as far from her bubbly public persona as was possible to be. Though, ice queen though she may have been, one particular part of her was as bubbly as ever. As I went out to the driveway to fetch her things, I of course did what any red-blooded male would do and I took a peek at that famous ass. Even in the loose fitting sweats she was wearing (yeah, she wasn't exactly dressed to the nines herself), that booty looked out of this world. Even bigger, thicker and rounder than it does online.
I hauled her suitcase from the trunk of her car and Bryce stood there watching me as I brought it inside, looking as stern and impatient as ever.
"Your bag, Miss Howard," I said as I wheeled it through the doorway.
"Thank you," she said, much to my surprise. Wasn't the warmest thanks I'd ever received, but it was a start. "Well, you gonna stand there or are you gonna give me the tour?"
"Err...yeah. This way, please."
I led her through the house, showing her each room in turn. Most women gush at the sight of the place as I show them around, but it won't shock you to learn Bryce stayed largely quiet, mumbling the occasional 'mmmhm', and just generally seeming unimpressed as I took her from room to room. The tour ended at the massage room. Or at least, that was the last room I showed her. There was actually a lot more to come, but Bryce had seen enough.
"This seems like a good place to start," she said as she entered the room. "I need a massage."
"You...do?"
"Yep. I've had a busy couple weeks. Jessica says you're good at this so I hope she's right."
So do I
, I thought to myself.
"Towel," she said, holding her hand out as I plucked one from the shelf.
Bryce looked at me for a second then signalled for me to turn. I did as instructed and had to force myself not to peek as I heard her undressing.
"OK, I'm ready for you."