Simulated Sex

Actors always say sex scenes are just acting, it's awkward even kissing, and nudity means nothing. This story turns that trope on its head. It's only real when it's on stage, and it's acting in the bedroom.

~~~ Edited by AnotherWannabe ~~~

Beginning The Journey

"I delayed college to concentrate on modeling," Anne explained.

"Oh?" Alvin peered over his menu. "Have I seen you in anything?"

"Probably not - local stores hired me when I was 15. I thought my career took off when a store chain featured me on billboards around Indianapolis."

"What happened?" Alvin signaled the waiter to approach.

"Steady work dried up when I was 20. I kept trying for a few more years and threw in the towel."

The waiter accepted Anne's selection of grilled salmon with asparagus and departed without exchanging words with Alvin.

"I come here often. I always order the same thing, so they've stopped asking."

"What are you having?"

"The 7 ounce strip steak medium rare with horseradish sauce and garlic mashed potatoes."

"So, no first date kiss tonight."

Alvin looked at her bland expression and blushed.

Anne's radiant smile returned, and she winked. "We'll have to save the first kiss for our second date."

"I look forward to it," he choked while sipping from his water glass.

"Why do you order the same thing?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose I think of this place when I want steak, so that's what I order. When I crave bacon and eggs, I walk to the diner down the street." "Well, I hope the salmon is good. This can be my fish place."

"How did you end up working at the firm?" Alvin changed the subject.

"I studied to become a legal assistant, but I learned to despise law instead. I needed a job, and the firm offered the receptionist position. I've been there a year now."

"Do you like it?"

"It's tedious. I have nightmares where I see the words, 'how may I direct your call?' engraved on my tombstone."

Alvin projected sympathy. "I used to dread getting up and driving to work when I started as a junior engineer right out of college."

"What changed?" Anne hoped for useful insight.

Alvin recounted the story of founding his own company and summarized some of his ongoing intellectual property disputes. He spoke with self assurance, and his eyes penetrated as he studied her expressions of interest.

"Tell me what you do like," he changed the subject again.

"The salmon for one." She smiled. Everything about the dinner exceeded her expectations.

Alvin barely touched the steak cooling on his plate.

"What else?"

"I loved modeling. It's more work than anyone thinks, but I was meant to do it."

"You must have tons of great stories."

"I modeled a one piece swimsuit, and the material split. I finished the shoot with safety pins holding it together from butt crack to shoulder blades. The client carefully selected front shots for their ads, but some others showing my back turned up on a billboard for a punk dance club. I wasn't even old enough to get in. That summer, I spotted girls who did that to their suits on purpose. I started a fashion trend."

Anne kissed her date at the end of the evening. He never touched the garlic potatoes, and she felt honored by his sacrifice. He endured hunger for a good-night kiss, so she gave him a good one. When he turned away, the waiting cab driver showed him a thumbs up. They parted with plans for another dinner.

After months of dating, Anne consented to sex. Alvin demonstrated creativity, attentive care, and enthusiasm. He buried his face between her legs for ages, but Anne grew frustrated and irritable. She faked an orgasm. They tried again after a few nights apart. Alvin tore the clothes from her body and humped her for a grand total of 3 minutes. Anne congratulated her lover and begged him to do that every time. Sessions ended sooner that way.

As a lover, Alvin compared favorably with her previous boyfriends. She never achieved orgasm from sex - not even oral sex. She lost her virginity to a thirty-five year old photographer when she was 18. Until then, she masturbated on occasion thinking she got close. She had assumed orgasms would come when she experienced "real" sex, but the photographer brought her little pleasure.

"You should move in with me," Alvin suggested.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," she answered.

"Go overseas with me with me and then decide."

"I can't. I don't have any vacation time."

"Quit your job. You hate it anyway. Live with me and look for a job you'll love."

A romantic two weeks on a Greek island stretched into a beautiful dream. Anne enjoyed pleasing her man and often initiated sex. They made love on a sheltered beach as the sun set and warm waves crashed over their ankles. She mastered the art of bringing Alvin to completion as quickly as she wanted. Power accompanied her new found ability. She enjoyed the power.

The dream faded when they returned to Chicago. Alvin worked long hours. After he departed each morning, Anne suffered solitude with as much grace as possible. Their penthouse required little attention. Cooking served no point because Alvin seldom returned when planned. They ate take-out or late dinners in restaurants. Alvin's return each night became the highlight of Anne's day.

"Hey darling," she greeted at the door.

He looked into her eyes with smoldering affection. She wrapped her long arms around his neck and crossed her wrists behind his head. Electricity sizzled between them, and she dragged him to the bedroom for a quickie.

"Let's do this every night," she cooed and relished the way Alvin's face lit in response.

"It works out better this way," she admitted silently to herself. "You won't want sex at bedtime when it'll take longer and required more effort."

"You should try acting," he announced out of the blue.

Anne suffered an instant of doubt. "Can he tell I'm faking?" her inner voice squealed.

Alvin saw the change on her face and explained, "You must get bored here all day. You're young and beautiful." He delivered his analysis with conviction. "You'll knock 'em dead on stage."

"I don't know anything about acting."

"Take some courses. Even if nothing comes of it, I bet you'll enjoy classes."

Anne joined a community theater group, and Alvin's intuition proved accurate. The next few weeks opened a new world.

"I'm having so much fun. I got a part already," she bounced and raved when her boyfriend returned later than usual one evening. "I thought I'd explode waiting to tell you!"

Over the next year, Anne relished every chance to stride on stage and landed roles in several more amateur productions. In one, Anne portrayed the victim of rape and murder. Choreography placed her nearly naked on stage pretending to be a corpse until the scene changed.

"Your acting is so good, I want to jump on stage to rescue you." Alvin sounded serious. "I'm jealous, too," he admitted.

"It's all simulated," she humored him. "It's part of the job, and I want to do a good job."

"I know. I see you love it, but the violence disturbs me. I can't help it. Your acting is too good!"

"You're my knight in shining armor. Take me home and accept my favors as reward." She savored the reliable simmering love in his eyes.

Performances on stage seeped into the bedroom. Desire to avoid, postpone, or minimize the duration of sex evaporated. Orgasm continued to elude Anne, but she didn't mind. Something about standing in front of an audience and receiving applause put her in an accommodating mood.

Anne grieved when the production closed after two weeks. Critical acclaim for her performance led to a professional role playing a prostitute. The script revolved around a case of mistaken identity. Her character drugged a wealthy John and stole his jewelry, including a large ring. After her character left the hotel room, mobsters burst in and murdered the sleeping man. It turned out the ring identified the bearer as a crime boss.

"I'm happy and excited," Alvin lied. The latest character spent half her time on stage scantily clad for the pleasure of leering crowds, or so it seemed to him.

"It's not a big deal," Anne insisted. "It's just skin. It's part of life, and theater examines life."

Alvin accepted her interpretation. The simulated sex scenes poked daggers in him, but he concealed his anguish to the limit of his ability. "I'm delighted to share a tiny bit of you for the sake of your art and your happiness."

Anne's professional debut achieved great success prompting Alvin to hire an agent while Anne traveled throughout the region with the theater company. The agent lined up an audition for a new made-for-cable television series casting in Los Angeles.

Anne and Alvin flew to LA on a Monday, and both assumed Anne would return to the traveling play for the Thursday Matinee performance. Nobody ever gets cast at the first audition, but Anne did.

A famous producer with a long string of hits and Emmy nominations conceived the drama. Unknown actors comprised most of the cast, but a famous fifty-something movie star won the male lead. Anne played a secret agent masquerading as a high class escort/call girl. Her nefarious employer's identity remained secret until a planned revelation to cap a second season.

Alvin stayed in LA during filming of the pilot episode. The studio kept the script secret to preserve suspense for the scheduled Fall premiere. Anne refused to reveal anything about it, and the set stayed closed, preventing observation. He frothed with anticipation to see her work.

Approaching Hazards

When Alvin lingered in LA, Anne enjoyed his company but wondered why he remained. They spent so little time together. She slipped out of bed every morning at dawn trying not to wake him and returned too tired to do anything but sleep. She knew he neglected his business.

Anne's experience failed to prepare her for filming the pilot. Stage productions involved comprehensive rehearsals because live stage plays have to be perfect. They only get one chance to make an impression on each audience. The TV show's director refused to give her the script until the day of the shoot. He insisted on five or six takes for every scene. "It's unprofessional. How can the director expect a good performance when he makes me read scripts cold?" Anne kept her complaints to herself.

On the tenth day of shooting, the scene called for violent sex between Anne's character and the male lead.

"Clear the set," the director shouted.

About ten men including the director remained, and a woman from the accounting office arrived.

"Anne dear, are you comfortable? The studio requires an observer on set," the director explained in his usual paternal overtone. "It's for the same reason doctors keep a nurse in the room when examining a woman."

"That's ridiculous. It's not necessary," Anne assured. "I lost whatever remained of my modesty when they put me half-naked on a billboard. Models can't afford modesty; it's the exact opposite of modeling. I've performed similar scenes countless times for audiences of thousands."

"Anne dear, it's studio policy. We want you to know you work in a safe environment. Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?"

Anne entered the set wearing one of her character's trademark evening gowns featuring a slit up the side to her hip. Its neck line flattered her perky breasts. The scene called for the male lead to ravish her. It started slowly with seduction but finished with the man between her legs lifting her off the bed by her hips as he thrust into her.

The director explained, "It's all about psychology dear. I want the viewers to realize your normally assertive and confident character has lost control. She's stripped of her dignity as well as her clothes, and he takes what he wants from her. I want to show a delicious power dynamic."

"Really? I didn't get that from the script," Anne replied.

"Oh, It's layers and layers of mind games." The director rubbed his hands together. "This scene builds your character's motivation for revenge. It's a critical moment of foreshadowing."

Anne enjoyed the beginning of the scene. She admired her co-star's professionalism. The leading man ad-libbed by sliding the straps of her gown off her shoulders. The hem fell, and satiny material tickled as it rippled over her contours. With the dress pooled at her ankles, she gracefully stepped out naked to embraced her co-star.

"Cut!"

Anne stood stark naked in front of the director and crew. It seemed different when a role consumed all of her attention. She could ignore the crew to focus on the performance, but standing idle became awkward. She waited for direction.

"Anne dear, I want you to kick off your high heels right after you walk in scene. I think your character will be more vulnerable barefoot, and you'll seem smaller. Let's do it again. Reset!"

"Take two."

Once again, the material draped over her nipples and tickled as it fell. She stepped out of the dress and into the embrace of her co-star.

"Cut!"

"Anne." The director shook his head. "Stand with the dress at your feet and act vulnerable. Let the gaze of the man who is about to ravish you sear your soul. He'll scan up and down your body. Let his eyes burn you. Then, when he tries to kiss you, turn your head as if you can't bare his touch."

"Take three"

The dress pooled at her ankles. She stood with her body erect and confident as if daring the man to take her, but her eyes betrayed her reluctance. The height differential did make her seem more vulnerable. She had the slight figure photographers love. It was the secret to her earlier success as a model. Her co-star scanned her body up and down like a hungry predator anticipating a meal. They embraced, and she turned her head as directed. Then he grabbed her upper arms, twisted, and threw her onto the bed. A camera man circled the bed to film her from several angles. The director wanted a prolonged shot so the audience would see she was helpless laying tossed across the bed of her captor.

The filming proceeded, and Anne experienced pride in her performance. She couldn't see herself, but she embodied the roll of victim.

The director studied the camera feed as the camera man circled. After a brief consultation that Anne couldn't hear, the director yelled, "Cut."

"Anne dear, there's something wrong with the scene. I love, love, LOVE the way your eyes get so wide. You have a perfect expression of surprise and fear, but it isn't working for me. We talked it over, and I think you need to shave. You'll appear more vulnerable without pubic hair. Do you mind dear, if we take care of that now? It won't make you uncomfortable? I don't want to lose too much time from this shot."

"The show must go on," she answered with feigned enthusiasm.

Phone calls summoned a small team who rushed onto the set. The hair stylist made adjustments while another woman refreshed Anne's face.

"Spread your legs please," a woman requested. Anne remained naked, and cold air from the duct above her head chilled.

"I feel like we should be introduced," Anne hedged.

"I'm Ling," the woman squatting between Anne's legs mumbled while focused on applying a razor.

Anne kept her pubic hair trimmed, so the shaving went quickly. There were some uncomfortable moments while the woman reached for stray hairs.

"I've never let anyone shave me before. I've always been reluctant to trust it to another person." Anne babbled to cover nervousness.

Everyone waited for the procedure to complete impatient to resume shooting. Anne bent forward when asked and lost a rediscovered remnant of modesty when the hairs around her anus were removed. An uncomfortable emotion bordering on violation churned her stomach and made her light headed. When she stood again, heads turned away in her peripheral vision. "That's not the way to become the center of attention," she lamented in the silent voice of regret.

With a dust of powder on her exposed vulva, cameras rolled again. The scene started from the beginning because they couldn't show her standing with pubic hair and then laying bald on the bed. After half a dozen more takes, the scene progressed to the part where the actor simulates violent fucking. Anne feared she might be bruised where the man gripped her to lift her off the bed, but other than that, the acting was easy. All she had to do was lay there and take it. She didn't even have to fake pleasure.

"Hmmmm, I'm not seeing it," the director complained. "It just looks like fucking! Where is the victimization? You absolutely must convey the sense that she hates and fears the man who's ravishing her, but at the same time, dear, she needs to find guilty pleasure. The audience must see this isn't only physical. It has to be psychological. I want to see him playing inside her head, and she has to surrender to lust. Anne dear, you've got to make me feel it."

They tried two more takes laying spread on her back with the leading man between her legs. Then, the director posed Anne laying on her stomach with her ass thrust up in the air. The actor held her by the hips and mounted from behind. Meanwhile, a camera positioned at the head of the bed captured a close-up of Anne's face. They planned to alternate shots between the vulgarity of the thrusting and the expressions on her face as she endured.

This new position worked better for the scene but made simulating the sex difficult. The actor's erect penis tended to point up. When on her back, the cock thrust in the air above her. Now, the head parted her lips, and the shaft dragged against her folds. She discovered unexpected arousal.

The director loved the shot and squirmed with delight. He let it go on and on. Several times, the director squatted just inches in front of Anne's face and admired her acting. "Oh yeah. That's the perfect expression of loathing mixed with arousal."

Fear of being impaled by a thrust paralyzed the actress, and tremendous guilt surged when she almost longed for it to happen. A dozen people watched. Bright lights revealed twitches and quivers in her aroused flesh. Cameras filmed from every direction including right into her face. The leading man grunted with exertion bracing her hips to resist the force of his body smacking against her ass.

The ridge of the actor's circumcised penis bumped over her clitoris and withdrew. Then, it happened. A slight adjustment of bodies brought them together spreading her wider than she imagined possible. The cock inside her was not particularly large, but she never craved penetration so much before.

It was good. The famous actor scratched an itch she didn't know she had. A barely recognized rising sensation thrilled. Without warning, a wave crashed through Anne's lithe body. Her muscles clenched. A blush spread and reached her face for the camera. Her breath faltered, trapped in her chest, as she realized her first orgasm.

The director either didn't notice or became distracted because the thrusting continued. The actor didn't pull out. Anne worried he might come inside her and panicked with belated realization that she betrayed the man she loved. At the same time, an ecstatic aura settled over her. The sensation amazed her, and she wanted another orgasm as soon as possible. As her wish neared fulfillment, the director yelled, "Cut."

The leading man paused for a moment as if uncertain, but then he pulled out with a slurping sound. Anne's muscles went weak. She had difficulty getting up from her lewd position face down on the bed. When she stood, she was a mess. Fluid rolled in large drips down her thighs and covered her sopping wet shaved vulva. Bright lights highlighted the moist shine.

The director seethed with excitement. "Yes! Yes! Yes! That was fantastic. That scene will win an Emmy for sure. How will we ever top that? Did you see her face?"