Part Ii - Focus Pull: Mie's Shot

Chapter 1: Take Two, Action!

Mike Henderson pushed through the heavy door of Starlight Studios, the familiar hum of lights and the faint tang of hairspray washing over him as he stepped inside. His second shoot--day two on the job--and though his nerves still buzzed beneath his skin, they'd settled into something manageable, a low thrum rather than the wild jolt of last week.

The set was taking shape--a faux office with a sturdy desk and a leather chair, tripods standing like sentinels, cables snaking lazily across the floor. Near the make-up station, Liza stood chatting with Harry, her practical brown bob swaying as she nodded, her blouse hugging her full breasts in a way that caught the morning light just right.

Mike started toward them, boots scuffing the concrete, his gaze lingering on Liza's curves a moment longer than he meant it to. A small twitch stirred in his penis, a reflex he couldn't quite tamp down, and his mind flicked back to last week--her warm hands, that bathroom rescue, the way she'd taken him in her mouth and left him reeling. He'd been half-hoping for something like it today, a private encore to steady him through another shoot. His pulse quickened at the thought, anticipation curling in his gut as he closed the distance. Harry, all silver hair and boundless energy, had an arm slung around Liza's shoulders, mid-hug, his laugh bouncing off the walls like a drumroll.

"Well, if it isn't Mike!" Harry boomed as he spotted him, releasing Liza with a firm clap on her back. "Wonderful news, lad--our very own Liza's gone and found herself a man!" His voice rang with that theatrical flourish, like he was unveiling a prize, and he flashed a grin that crinkled his eyes. With a jaunty wave, he spun on his heel and strode toward the back, his silver hair glinting under the lights, leaving a wake of quiet behind him.

The studio's hum softened, the air settling around Mike and Liza as they stood alone by her cluttered table--brushes, powders, a mirror propped against a stack of old scripts. She turned to him, her smile easing into something gentler, a little uncertain at the edges as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, guess the cat's out of the bag," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that steadied the moment. "I've been seeing this guy for a little while--just casual at first, you know, coffee here and there. But it's been good--really good, actually. Things have gotten more serious than I figured they would, and a lot quicker than I thought, too. I'm not sure where it's all headed, but right now, I'm happy--happier than I expected to be."

Mike felt a sharp twinge in his gut--disappointment, maybe a sting of jealousy, twisting beneath his ribs like a knot he hadn't seen coming. He'd walked in with that flicker of hope, picturing her hands on him again, her closeness cutting through the chaos of the day. But he pushed a smile onto his face, forcing it wide enough to feel convincing. "Hey, that's great, Liza--I'm really happy for you," he said, his tone earnest despite the tug inside him.

He paused, then let a thread of mirth weave back into his voice, shaking off the ache. "Even if I came in here today hoping for, well, something a little more, you know? Guess I'll have to figure out how to keep this erection at bay all by myself now, huh?"

Liza giggled, her eyes crinkling with that familiar kindness as she gave his arm a playful swat. "Oh, you poor thing--left to fend for yourself out there, are you? All on your lonesome now," she teased, her voice light but laced with warmth, a gentle lift to pull him out of his slump. "At least for the time being, anyway. But don't you worry too much, sweetie--most newbies find their footing a lot better on their second day. You'll manage just fine without me holding your hand--or anything else, for that matter." She winked, her laugh soft and reassuring, settling over them like a comforting blanket, her presence still steadying him even if it wasn't the way he'd imagined.

Chapter 2: Diva vs. Darling

Mike leaned over his tripod in Studio B, tweaking the legs to frame the shot, the hum of the crew a low buzz around him. The set was morphing into a mock casting office--desk shoved center, piled with fake scripts and headshots, a lone chair parked in front for auditions, bare walls sporting a cheesy poster: Star Dreams, some '80s relic Harry probably dug up.

Footsteps clacked, and the door swung wide--Katie Knoxx strolled in, a burst of light in her gray hoodie and jeans. At 29, she was curvy perfection--big boobs strained the hoodie's loose fit, nipples teasing faintly through, long legs hugged tight by denim, platinum blonde ponytail swishing like a metronome. No makeup dulled her glow--high cheekbones, full lips, eyes that owned the room without trying.

She spotted John Bradley by the desk, rugged in a flannel shirt, stubble framing a grin, and bounded over, her energy slicing the hum. "Dessert ready, Johnny-boy?" she teased, planting a quick, chummy kiss on his cheek.

John's face softened, early-40s charm crinkling his eyes. "Always, Katie--for that laugh," he rumbled, deep chuckle blending with hers, their bond thick as a well-worn script. Last shoot's double dessert was just one page in their book--years of gigs stacked behind it.

She spun, zeroing on Mike across the set. "Camera stud!" she called, throwing her arms around him--her boobs pressed soft and warm into his chest, that floral scent washing over, a stir flaring in his jeans. He grinned back, steadier now--no stammer, no rookie flush swallowing him. "Good to see you too," he said, voice solid, meeting her twinkling gaze--progress from that first hug, her casual radiance a kick he could handle now.

Katie pulled back, winking, ponytail swishing as she stepped aside. Liza appeared at her elbow, a make-up brush in hand, her practical brown bob swaying as she dabbed a touch of blush on Katie's cheeks. "Let's get you camera-ready, hon--can't have Johnny stealing all the shine," she said with a warm smile, her voice a quiet anchor amid the bustle. Katie laughed, tilting her head for Liza's quick work, their ease a fleeting but familiar beat.

John clapped Mike's shoulder, grip firm. "Holding up after last time, kid? That was a circus."

"Yeah," Mike chuckled, nodding. "Survived--barely. You and Katie made it smooth."

"Damn right," John grinned, leaning back against the desk, arms crossed. "Today's lighter--quick and fun."

Harry Reynolds paced nearby, script flapping in his hand, silver hair glinting under the lights. "Alright, gang, we're doing a classic casting couch scene today. Katie's auditioning, John's the casting director," he barked, pinstripe suit pristine despite the bustle. He paused, pinching his nose with a groan. "Oh, and Nicky Knockers. She'll be the casting assistant, as if the scene needs that part."

Katie leaned over from her spot by the desk, her platinum hair brushing Mike's shoulder as she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Nicky's this girl from OnlyFans who's just started doing porn--Harry can't stand working with her, drives him up the wall." Her breath was warm against his ear, her words laced with a mix of amusement and pity.

The door banged open, right on cue--Nicky Knockers flounced in, 21 and plastic-fantastic, attitude blazing. Long black hair gleamed like wet ink, cascading over her shoulders, fake lashes fluttering like she'd raided a costume shop. Her silicone tits spilled from a skimpy crop top--round, fake, bursting at the seams, fabric stretched so tight her nipples poked through like twin spotlights. Tight shorts hugged her ass, barely covering her thighs, hem riding up to flash smooth, tanned skin as she strutted--curves a tease that screamed look-but-don't-touch. She popped gum loud enough to bounce off the walls, phone glued to her hand, thumbs flying--every step a diva's entrance, hot as hell but zero chill.

Katie leaned in, her hoodie brushing Mike's arm, whispering, "Here comes trouble," her voice teasing, a grin tugging her lips. Mike nodded, brow up--Nicky was a walking wet dream with a tantrum strapped on.

Harry waved her over, script flapping harder. "Nicky, you're John's assistant--no lines, no action. Sit at the desk, take notes, done." His tone was clipped, like he'd braced for the storm.

Nicky froze, gum mid-pop, glossy lips parting in a scowl. "Wait, no sex? An assistant?" Her whine sliced the set's hum, high and sharp as a bad mic screech. "I'm breaking into mainstream films, I need the screen time!" She stomped a foot, her tits jiggling wildly--crop top strained, threatening to snap, shorts riding higher to bare more ass. Crew heads swiveled, half-amused, half-ogling--she tossed her hair, a black wave, and glared. "I've got millions of followers--they expect me topless, fucking, not some desk bullshit!"

Katie bit her lip, a soft laugh slipping out--her shoulders shook, light and infectious. Mike rolled his eyes hard, feeling the stretch, and caught her gaze across the set. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, his flashed exasperation--they locked, grinning wide. "She's a riot," Katie murmured, leaning in close to whisper, her elbow nudging him as her voice dropped low. "Did a lesbian scene with her a couple of weeks back--her acting was like her personality, pretty much nonexistent. Great tits, though, if you're into plastics." Mike's lips curved into a smile, his eyes dipping briefly to Katie's chest--full and natural under her hoodie--before flicking back to meet hers. "I'm more into natural myself," he said, his tone warm and steady, a quiet spark flickering between them.

"Sit or scram!" Harry barked, waving a hand like swatting a gnat. Nicky huffed, flopping into a chair beside the desk--phone snapped up, arms crossed, tits thrusting forward, muttering about her "brand" as her shorts flashed more thigh.

Chapter 3: Roll the Money Shot

Studio B thrummed with prep, the mock casting office set sharp under the lights--desk piled with fake scripts and headshots, a lone audition chair parked front and center, walls bare but for a faded Star Dreams poster Harry'd probably yanked from storage. John Bradley sat at the desk, rugged in a flannel shirt unbuttoned halfway, stubble shadowing his grin, while Nicky Knockers perched beside him, silicone tits spilling from her crop top, tight shorts riding up as she scribbled nonsense notes, gum popping like a metronome. Katie paced nearby, already transformed--platinum hair teased high, eyes bold with mascara, her tiny miniskirt and crop top hugging every curve, high heels clicking softly as she waited for her cue. Liza hovered at the set's edge, wiping a make-up brush on a rag, her eyes flicking to Katie with a quiet nod--ready when needed.

Mike crouched behind the studio's tripod, tweaking the lens to frame the shot, the equipment scarred from past shoots but steady in his hands--no personal gear bag today, just the folding chair beside him holding a notepad he'd grabbed from the supply rack. He grinned, feeling a quiet confidence settle in. Last time, he'd been a boner-plagued mess, fumbling through the chaos; today, he'd nail it, lens locked on the action, jeans staying calm under pressure.

Harry Reynolds paced the set's edge, silver hair glinting, pinstripe suit crisp despite the morning's chaos. "John's the director, Katie's auditioning--quick, dirty, pure class!" he barked, script flapping in his hand. "Nicky's the assistant--sit, scribble, shut up. Got it?" His eyes twinkled, but his tone cut--Nicky's tantrum still echoed from an hour back.

"Got it," John rumbled, leaning back, arms crossed--his pro vibe a rock amid the buzz. Nicky huffed, crossing her legs, her shorts flashing more thigh--her pen hovered, a sulky prop.

"Ready," Mike called, handheld poised beside the tripod--he'd jump in for close-ups when the heat hit.

"Places!" Harry clapped, sharp as a slate snap.

Katie stepped into the frame, a vision of porn-mode perfection--platinum hair teased into wild waves, eyes smoldering under thick lashes, her tiny miniskirt barely clinging to her hips, crop top straining against her full, natural breasts, nipples teasing the fabric. High heels clicked against the floor as she swayed toward the desk, every curve a calculated glow under the lights. "Hi, I'm Katie," she said, voice smooth and eager. "I'm here for the part."

John leaned back in his chair, flannel shirt gaping over his broad chest, a lazy grin tugging at his stubble. "Welcome, Miss Knoxx. Let's hear the lines--page three, the rooftop chase scene," he said, tapping the fake script with a finger, his tone all business.

Katie picked up the page, her lips curling as she read aloud in a bright, determined lilt: "You won't get away that easy, Rex--I'm taking you down, whatever it takes!" She set the script down, fists on her hips like an action heroine, her eyes locked on John with a hopeful spark.

John rubbed his chin, tilting his head. "Hmm, not quite the grit we need for this flick--needs more... edge," he said, his voice cool, testing her.

Katie's smile faltered, then steadied as she stepped closer, her tone softening with a plea. "Oh, please, Mr. Bradley, I really need this role. Isn't there anything I can do?" Her fingers brushed his flannel, sliding down his chest as she eased herself to her knees, gazing up with a mix of desperation and charm.

John grinned down at her, hands steady on the desk. "Well, Miss Knoxx, I'm intrigued--let's see what you're bringing to the table," he rumbled, his voice thickening.

Katie's fingers moved to his fly, unzipping it with a quick tug--his cock sprang free, thick and hard, pulsing in her grip. "I think you'll see I'm perfect for the role," she said, her lips parting as she leaned in, wrapping them around him. She sucked deep, wet slurps filling the air--her throat flexed, tongue swirling, platinum hair swaying as she bobbed. Nicky, perched nearby, scribbled furiously, her silicone tits jiggling in her crop top.

"Oh, Miss Knoxx, this is some top-tier talent," John groaned, his head tipping back, hands gripping the desk's edge--knuckles whitening as his hips twitched. Mike worked the studio's cameras, panning from a tripod to catch her angle, then grabbing the handheld for a tight shot--her lips stretched, spit glistening. His jeans tightened, that erection creeping back, but milder than last time--just a faint throb he could push through, his focus sharp through the lens.

John roared, pulling out as cum blasted her face--thick ropes splattered her cheeks, streaked her lips, a quick facial dripping down her chin. Katie grinned, swiping a drop with her finger. "So, do I get the role?" she asked, her voice bright, eyes gleaming under the mess.

"You're among the best candidates, no doubt," John panted, pulling her up by the arm. "But I need to be dead certain." He spun her around, bending her over the desk--her miniskirt flipped up, bare pussy glistening as Nicky huffed, crossing her arms, gum snapping louder. John lined his cock up, ramming it in from behind--hard, fast humps rocked the desk, Katie's moans sharp and urgent, her tits pressing into the wood. Mike zoomed in, steady despite the heat in his groin, catching the wet slap of skin.

John grunted, pulling out--cum shot across her lower back, a hot arc pooling at her spine. "You've got the role, Miss Knoxx--action star material," he said, chest heaving as he tucked himself back in, flannel rumpled. Katie straightened, smoothing her skirt with a smirk, cum still streaking her face and back.

"Cut!" Harry shouted, clapping hard. "Fucking brilliant!"

The crew erupted--cheers, whistles, a rowdy wave crashing over the set. Mike stopped recording, grinning, sweat slicking his neck--no boner slips, just focus, his handheld steady as hell. John zipped up, fist-bumping the air, while Katie hopped off, cum streaking her face and back--she blew kisses, winking at the crew. She caught Mike's eye, stepping close, wiping her chin with a giggle. "You seemed more controlled this time," she said, her voice teasing.

Mike laughed, nodding. "Yeah, getting my shit together."

John turned from the desk, catching Mike's eye with a sharp nod. "Good job, kid--steady as a rock back there," he said, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of approval as he adjusted his flannel. Mike shrugged, still grinning, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Thanks, man--just trying to keep up with you two," he replied, his tone light but proud, feeling the weight of the day settle into something solid.

Katie flashed one last smile, already stepping away toward the back. "Off to the shower--gotta wash this masterpiece off," she called over her shoulder, her heels clicking faintly as she disappeared through the studio's side door, cum still glistening on her skin. The crew's chatter faded behind her, a few stray whistles trailing as she went, her presence lingering even as she slipped out of sight.

Nicky stayed by the desk, sulking as she slumped into the chair, her phone snapped up in one hand, fingers flying across the screen. Her silicone tits jutted forward, tight shorts riding high, but her focus was all scowls and mutters--something about "hashtags" under her breath as her gum popped, sharp and annoyed. Mike glanced her way, then back to the tripod, packing up the gear, the shoot's chaos winding down into a quiet, satisfied hum.

Chapter 4: Fade to Playback

Studio B had gone quiet, the last of the crew long shuffled out, leaving the mock casting office set bathed in the faint buzz of overhead lights. The desk sat cluttered with fake scripts and headshots, the audition chair tipped slightly from Katie's shoot earlier, shadows stretching across the concrete floor. Mike knelt by the studio's tripod, coiling cables with steady hands, sweat drying on his neck. The day's chaos--John and Katie's "double dessert"--still hummed in his mind, but he'd held the handheld like a pro, no rookie slips this time. Day two, and he'd owned it.

Liza swept the floor nearby, her practical jeans hugging her hips, black sweater stretched tight over her full, natural breasts--curves that still tugged at him, a memory from that bathroom rescue last week. She was off-limits now, her new guy a quiet wall between them since that morning's chat, and Mike let the thought settle, a faint ache he could handle. She caught his gaze, broom pausing mid-sweep, and smiled, hazel eyes crinkling. "Penny for your thoughts, kid?"

Mike stood, dropping the cables into a studio bin, bolder now than last time. "Just thinking--I loved our little moment last shoot, Liza," he said, voice low and honest. "Bit sad it's done, but I'm glad for you--really." He grinned, rubbing his neck. "Managed to keep my shit together better today, though. Katie's got me absolutely smitten--she's unreal."

Liza leaned the broom against the desk, her laugh warm and easy as she stepped closer, sweater shifting with her move. "Katie's a knockout, no question--hot as hell and sweet to boot. Who wouldn't be smitten?" she said, hands on hips, her smile softening the air between them.

"True," Mike nodded, meeting her eyes with a grin. "But you're hot too, Liza--don't sell yourself short." He paused, then snapped his fingers, a spark lighting his face. "Oh, almost forgot--got our film ready. Wanna watch it?"

Liza squealed, clapping her hands quick and sharp, her bob bouncing as she lit up. "Absolutely, kid--let's see it!" she said, her voice bubbling with excitement, hazel eyes wide.

They moved to the office down the hall--a snug nook with a plush leather couch, a flat-screen bolted to the wall, and a coffee table stacked with old scripts. Mike plugged a memory stick into the TV's USB, the screen flickering to life with a title card: The Rookie and the Goddess, white text on black, his cheesy nod to their first gig. Liza flopped onto the couch, legs tucked under, jeans hugging her thighs, sweater straining as she leaned back, grinning. "Goddess? Oh, you're too much," she cackled, nudging him with her elbow as he sank beside her.