Fluffer in Training

Rachel returned to the studio to find Paul talking to Lori, the blonde girl nodding as he spoke. He turned and acknowledged Rachel as she approached, and then spoke to both of them. "Thanks girls. Good work. You can take off now, we're done for the day. Lori, great to work with you again. Rachel, nice to have your on board." He gave her a little wink that she knew Lori couldn't see. She wondered what that was all about. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of you soon."

"Thank you, Paul," Lori replied.

"Thank you, sir," Rachel said, unsure of how to address the director.

"It's just Paul," he said, patting her on the arm and walking away.

"How did things go with Tanya?" Lori asked. "I hear she can be a real bitch at times. Did you get her cleaned up okay?"

"Uh, yes. I think so," Rachel replied, happy that she'd thoroughly washed her face. "It took a little longer than I expected, but she seemed happy afterwards." She thought about how she'd left the young starlet, slumped in the chair with her legs spread obscenely, a dreamy look on her face. "And she was very nice too. I like her."

"That's good. You did great for your first day, Rachel," Lori said, pulling off her hairband and shaking out her curly locks. "The guys liked you. That's just about the most important thing."

"Thanks," Rachel replied. Following Lori's example, she undid her ponytail, her jet black hair falling onto her shoulders. "Thanks for showing me what to do. I really appreciate it. I'm glad you think I did okay. I'm still unsure of myself and I really need this job."

"Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine," Lori gave her a little hug, which made Rachel feel more at ease. "Now, it's Friday, girl. We've got the whole weekend ahead of us. Let's haul our asses out of here. My man should be outside waiting for me."

Rachel pulled on her jacket and the two girls picked up their purses, walking out side by side. In the bright late afternoon sun, Rachel had to squint to see her watch. It was a little past five.

"There's Bruce," Lori said, pointing to a young man with sunglasses and a beard behind the wheel of a pickup truck parked on the opposite side of the parking lot. "Which way are you headed?"

"Oh, I'm heading back downtown."

"Sorry, we're going the other way and we're already late for a barbecue we're supposed to be at."

"Oh that's fine. The bus stops right by my place anyways."

"You're sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. You go ahead. Have a nice weekend."

"You too." Lori walked towards the pickup truck before turning and smiling. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Rachel waved and walked across the street to the bus stop as Lori and her boyfriend drove away. As she waited, she saw the two young men who'd been in her scene climb into another car and drive away. She looked down the street, hoping the bus would come soon. She turned back and looked across the street, just in time to see a black Mercedes convertible come out from the side of the studio building and turn onto the street, heading in her direction. She saw the driver's head jerk as he spotted her at the bus stop, the car quickly shifting into the lane next to her as he pulled to the curb.

"Hey, new girl." Looking into the sporty car, Rachel watched as Justin Deeper took off his aviator-style sunglasses and set them on the console between the two front seats. He looked up at Rachel, giving her a hundred-watt smile. She barely recognized him with regular clothes on. He was wearing jeans and an open-collared white shirt, which looked great against his tanned skin, his stubbly growth of beard and longish hair making him look rakishly handsome.

"Mr. Deeper?" Rachel said, unsure of what to say.

"You're waiting for the bus?"

"Yes. I'm just heading back home."

"Where's home?" Rachel told him where she lived. He reached over and popped open the passenger door of the sports car. "Hop in. I'm going right past there."

"Um, are you sure?"

"C'mon, c'mon," he said with a smile, waving his hand for her to get in.

Rachel climbed into the car, fastening her seat belt as he pulled back into traffic. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. The bus would have been fine though. I'm used to it, Mr. Deeper."

"Mr. who?"

"Uh, Mr. Deeper? Or should I call you Justin? I'm not sure what's appropriate."

He laughed, giving her a big grin as he flicked his eyes from the road over to her. "Justin Deeper is just my stage name. My real name is Alan Ferguson. That's not too exciting in this industry, so my agent came up with the Justin Deeper thing a couple of years back."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Ferguson. I had no idea."

"Alan, just Alan will be fine. What's your name? I don't think we had time to be properly introduced."

"It's Rachel."

"Rachel. Nice name," he said, giving her that megawatt smile as he maneuvered the flashy sports car through traffic. "Do you like to eat, Rachel?"

"Pardon me?" the young girl replied, confused by his question, wondering if he was making some kind of joke or comment about her plumpness.

"Sorry, my fault. I should have asked if you were hungry. Are you?"

"Well, a little, I guess," she said, still unsure of where he was going with this.

"Because I've got nothing planned for this evening and I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat. I know a nice seafood place that has the best crab cakes in the world. Would you like to join me?"

He looked at her, a warm comforting smile on his handsome face. Rachel was thrilled that he'd asked her, but knew she only had a few dollars in her purse. She figured any restaurant someone with a car like this would go to would be out of her price range for sure. "That's so nice of you to ask, but I don't think I should."

"Are you sure? You don't like seafood? We could grab some Italian if you like. Anything you want."

"No, no. It's not that. I love seafood. It's just...well, to be totally honest, things are a little tight with me right now until I get my first pay check."

"Oh, that's my fault again. Man, how much more can I screw up in one day?" She found his smile infectious and felt her mouth turn up at the corners. "This would totally be on me. I heard that you took this job to help pay for your expenses at film school here, and I know how difficult it can be for a young person to make ends meet in this town. L.A. is great, but she's a cruel mistress. So, what do you say, feel like joining me, or are you going to make this pathetic old man eat all alone?" He gave Rachel a sad face that made her laugh.

"Okay, since you put it that way. I really appreciate it. I'll pay you back when I get my pay check."

"Don't worry about that at all. You won't owe me anything. I'll like having the company. It's me that should be thanking you."

"I would have thought on a Friday night someone like you would have had a date, or something."

He took a corner sharply, the black Mercedes accelerating as he headed towards the ocean. "Naw, nothing today. I like to relax on Friday nights. Have a nice meal, kick back, maybe watch a movie. That's just the way I like it." He paused as his eyes flicked over to her, he gaze roaming up and down her buxom form appraisingly. "But what about you? An attractive girl like you certainly must have a date for a Friday night. You don't have a boyfriend waiting for you?"

"No," Rachel replied, shaking her head. "I haven't met anyone since I've been out here, and there isn't even a boyfriend back home. No, I was just headed home to some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich."

"Then a nice meal sounds like just the thing for you."

"And you sure you just don't want to be alone? I'd understand if that's what you'd prefer."

"No, like I said, the company will be nice." He turned to face her as he spoke, and she noticed his eyes flick down to her chest, the shoulder strap of her seat belt cutting right down between her substantial breasts, emphasizing their size. She felt a squeamish tingle deep inside her as his eyes seemed to reluctantly turn back to the road.

"I really like your car. How long have you had it?" They engaged in small talk the rest of the way to the restaurant. They pulled into the parking lot and Alan tossed the keys to the valet as he quickly strode around the car and opened the door for Rachel.

"Thank you so much," she said, taking his hand as he helped her out. She'd never been treated like that before and felt herself smiling, feeling like a princess.

"Mr. Ferguson, we have your usual table available," the maitre d' said as he led them to a table for two that overlooked the ocean. He held the chair out for Rachel as she took her seat, feeling overwhelmed by the attention, and her surroundings. The restaurant was very impressive, with a modern vibe that she knew must have cost a fortune to decorate.

"Drinks to start?" Rachel looked up as a waiter addressed them.

"Yes," Alan replied. "A couple of glasses of the house white should be fine."

"Ahem." The waiter coughed in his throat, his eyes flicking over to Rachel for a split second.

"Oh yes," the actor said. "How old are you, Rachel?"

"I'm 18."

"Oh, of course. Would a Coke be okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

With a nod the waiter stepped away. "I never thought," Alan said, shaking his head as he gave Rachel an apologetic smile.

"That's fine, Mr. Fer—I mean, Alan. I'm not much of a drinker anyways. A Coke is fine."

"All right then, let's take a look at the menus. We definitely have to start with the crab cakes. Trust me, you won't regret it."

Rachel couldn't believe how happy she was, sitting here in restaurant she never would have been able to step into on her own. And in the company of this handsome young man, whose warm smile made her want to melt, she found herself overwhelmed with excitement. They talked about the menu and she decided to try the swordfish steak, something she'd only read about before.

He ordered for both of them and their conversation over dinner flowed easily. He asked her a lot of questions about her upbringing and family in Nebraska, and how she was enjoying film school. After feeling that she was doing all the talking and feeling guilty for not asking him about himself, she asked if he was from California.

"No. Buffalo, New York. I came out here a number of years ago wanting to be an actor. Pretty standard story, actually. Had a lot of auditions and made a couple of commercials. I was running short on cash and wanted to stay. An actor friend of mine told me a small studio was casting for some parts in an 'adult' movie, and said both of us should give it a try. He said the money was pretty good, and I realized if I really wanted to stay, I needed to do something to bring in some cash. The director on that first movie liked the look of me, saying I had 'certain attributes' that could make me a star." He paused as Rachel's eyes opened wide and she nodded in agreement.

"I, uh, I noticed on the set," she said, nodding towards his midsection.

"Well, yes. And so, shortly after that, my current agent approached me, changed my professional name to Justin Deeper, and here we are."

"Lori tells me you're very successful."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you'd say I'm doing all right. I've got a nice condo I like, and you've seen the car. It could be a lot worse."

"I have to admit, I don't know a lot about this business, but like you, I needed to make some money too. I replied to the ad Mr. Smithers put in that paper, and I had no idea at first what a production assistant's duties were. It wasn't until I came to the interview that I found out." Rachel looked up as the waiter approached, their now empty dinner plates still in front of them.

"Would you two care for dessert?" the waiter asked as he cleared away their plates. "The caramel cheesecake is our specialty."

Alan smiled as he saw Rachel's eyes light up. "How about that, Rachel? Shall we have two of those?" She nodded sheepishly. He gave her a wink and turned to the waiter, holding up two fingers. "Great, two slices of cheesecake."

"So, picking up where you left off," Alan said once the waiter was out of earshot. "Were you okay with the job duties once you found out what was required of a production assistant?"

Once again, Rachel was pleased that he hadn't called her a fluffer. "I was surprised at first, of course, but I felt foolish for not knowing what to expect. When Mr. Smithers showed me how much I'd be making, I knew I wanted to try. I thought I could do okay, and I just wanted the chance. Like you said happened with you, I really needed to find something to allow me to afford to stay here. Which reminds me, you said that you'd heard I took this job for that reason. Who did you hear that from, Mr. Smithers?"

Alan shook his head. "No, Carole mentioned it to me," he said, referring to the attractive older woman who seemed to be the office manager. "And once I heard that, I knew I'd do what I could to help you. Like you said, I'd been in that situation myself." He didn't mention that before he left the studio he'd stopped in to see his pal, Dr. Fitzpatrick. Nearly every week, they finished their Fridays by having a drink in the doctor's examination room and chewing the fat. Alan had a soft spot for the old guy, liking him from the first time they'd met.

Only this Friday was different. He'd tapped on the door and walked into the doctor's office, finding the room in total darkness. He could hear soft snoring coming from across the room and turned on the light, spotting the doctor asleep on the couch. He walked across the room and touched Fitz's shoulder, shaking him gently. The guy seemed like he was in a coma, and it took a couple of good shakes for him to finally start coming around. He slowly sat up as Alan went to the cupboard above the sink and poured the old man a stiff drink from the bottle they kept stashed there.

"Fitz, are you all right?" he asked, genuinely worried that the old guy might have had a stroke or something.

"Oh my God, you won't believe it," the doctor replied, taking the drink and downing it in one gulp. For the next twenty minutes, he filled Alan in on his escapade with Rachel, the young man smiling as he listened to the doctor's lurid tale.

"Sounds like you had a good day?" he said once the doctor finished his narrative.

"Oh fuck, yes. I can't remember ever having a day like that in my entire life."

"I'm happy for you. It sounds like she's willing to have you examine her again."

"I can only hope so. As long as my old ticker keeps working, she can keep on sucking."

With those words echoing in his ears, it wasn't hard for Alan to convince himself to pull over and offer the young girl a ride when he spotted her at the bus stop.

"That's nice of you to say, Mr. Ferg—Alan. I really appreciate you willing to help. I want to keep this job so badly."

Their slices of cheesecake arrived, the scent of warm caramel wafting into their senses. They eagerly dug in.

"Oh my goodness, this is amazing," Rachel said, the first forkful tasting heavenly as it slid down her throat. Alan smiled as he watched her eat, feeling happy for the young girl, knowing how tough it had been for him when he first came to Hollywood. The cheesecake was delicious, but very sweet, and he stopped after a few bites, feeling totally satisfied. When Rachel had thoroughly cleaned her plate, she looked up, noticing he hadn't finished his. "You didn't like it?"

"No, it was fabulous, but I've had enough." He noticed the way she was looking at his unfinished portion. "Would you like it? I don't' mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Be my guest," he said, smiling as he pushed the plate over to her.

"I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and this just tastes so good. I'm sorry." Rachel reached forward with her fork, carving off another bite.

"That's fine, Rachel. It's nice to see a young girl with a nice appetite. Too many in this town starve themselves. Eat as much as you like. We can order you another piece to go, if you like."

"I'm always worried about my figure, but when it comes to desserts like this, I just can't resist."

"I think you have a terrific figure."

"You do?" she replied, totally in shock that this handsome man would find her attractive.

"Absolutely. Like I said, too many women in this industry think they need to be skinny to succeed. Me personally, I like women with some meat on their bones." He paused as he blatantly ogled her full curvy body, his eyes lingering an extra second or two on her voluminous tits. "Yes, you look just fine to me."

"Thank you. That's so nice of you to say." Rachel was beaming with happiness inside, but could feel herself blushing at the same time.

Alan smiled to himself as he looked at the young girl. "So, how did you think your first day went?"

"I think I did okay, but I'm not really sure. Everything is so new to me, and different from any kind of job I've had before. Lori was kind of showing me the ropes, which I really appreciate. And the guys seemed nice. I think I did okay when I was getting them ready for their scenes. I'm sure I can do better. I just need the opportunity to practice more. I really need to keep this job."

Alan slowly nodded in agreement before looking up at her, his eyes bright. "Hey, I've got an idea. You said you don't have a date or anything tonight?"

"No, nothing."

"Well, if you really want to have the opportunity to practice, I'm not doing anything tonight either. If you like, you could come over to my place and practice there."

Rachel looked up, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in what the handsome actor was saying. "You mean...me...practice on you?"

"It would all be purely professional, of course." He waved his hand in the air, as if this kind of thing happened every day in the porn business. "If you don't want to, I totally understand. Knowing how much you'd like to make sure you do well on your job, I just thought I'd offer. That's fine."

"No, no," Rachel replied emphatically. "It's just that your offer caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting anything like that. How, how would it work?"

Alan leaned forward, speaking quietly. "Well, we're both adults here, working in this industry. And just so there are no misunderstandings, you're right, we should lay out the ground rules right here and now." He paused and waited until she nodded in agreement before continuing. "To be blatant, we'd go back to my place—which isn't far from here—and you could practice sucking my cock. When you've had enough, I can drive you home. Simple as that." He sat back, letting her digest his words.

"You'd really be willing to do that for me?" Rachel asked, in awe that this big star would put himself out for someone like her.

"Like I said, I know how difficult it is for someone in your shoes, just starting out and all." He paused and looked at her solemnly. "I know this is supposed to be my night off, but if you think it'll help, I'm more than willing to give you a lesson in being the best production assistant you can be. It's your call. If you want, I can just take you home right now."

"You're sure you don't want your night off, like you said?"

"I'll have other nights to relax. What's another night one way or the other? I have some experience, and if you really want to keep your new job, I think you know that it wouldn't hurt to get some tips from someone who knows how things work in this industry." He laughed. "I guess saying you'd get some tips was a bad choice of words."

"That's fine, Mr. Fer...uh, Alan," Rachel replied excitedly. "If you really wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate you helping me. A lesson would be nice."

Alan nodded, a wry smile on his face. "All right then. Shall we be on our way?"

"Okay, just let me finish this," Rachel said guiltily, scooping up the last bite of cheesecake on her fork.