With a special thank you to OneSilky for her editing help. Hope you enjoy it. Jb7
*
Smitty thought he must have the best job in the world. He was the go-to guy for discovering fresh new faces for Hollywood. Not surprisingly, his biggest customers were the producers of adult films.
He had 'studios' for making audition tapes in all the large college towns, from Bangor to Berkeley; from Olympia, in Washington, to Palm Beach in Florida; from Green Bay to Houston. There wasn't a state, including Alaska and Hawaii, where he didn't have at least one studio. Hell, he even had studios in Puerto Rico, and, his favorite oxymoron, the Virgin Isles.
This week he was in Baltimore, or more properly, Towson. It was one of his favorite sites. An old southern city, it drew liberal minded students from all over the world to attend the more than 100 schools in the area, reaching north into southern PA, and to the south, beyond D.C.
He had barely taken his jacket off upon arriving his first morning back in town when his cell phone rang. It wasn't a number he recognized, but the area code said it was from D.C. He hit the talk button. "Jack Smith, TalentSearch."
"Mr Smith, I must ask you; is there any way, on your end, this conversation might be overheard, or that your telephone might be eavesdropped on?"
"No, not that I'm aware of. Wh..."
The feminine voice softened a bit. "I'll explain when I see you. Can you be free at noon for a lunch meeting?"
"Yes, b..."
"And, might it be possible for you to...conduct a private audition this afternoon?"
"Private audition? What do you mean?"
"I have seen some of your 'adult' auditions on the internet. I would like you to...audition me, but I wish to keep the video for my own purposes. Would that be possible? With just the two of us?"
"I suppose, depending on what you want to include in your 'performance.' There are some...activities which are best caught using a live cameraman, instead of the robotic cameras I have here."
"Hmm. I understand. Can your cameraman be trusted to be discreet?"
"If he couldn't, he wouldn't be working for me. May I..."
"Very well, Mr Smith. Please have him available this afternoon. I'll be there with lunch at twelve."
Marie Isabella Gilbert (Mikki, to her friends) turned her cell phone off and went to her closet to choose her clothing for what she figured would be either a disaster, or the saving of her marriage. Four days ago, Conchita, her maid, had presented her with an earring the young woman had found in her mistress's bed.
Mikki had recognized it immediately. Identical to a pair she frequently wore, she had had it made as a birthday present for her best friend, Jodi. Jodi, who had often teased her about wanting to join Mikki and her husband, Robert, in a threesome, had apparently decided to join Robert without her.
It wasn't that Mikki was upset that Robert had taken another woman into his bed. His job with the government meant he traveled extensively, spending many long periods overseas, in areas where she couldn't accompany him. He had, in fact, left that morning for the Mid-East.
Their understanding was that he was free to relieve his needs, when he traveled, however he could. Embassy staff, including the native personnel, usually comprised several willing young women. If not, his bodyguard contingent did.
But this—this was in her house, in her bedroom, in her bed! She thought back. It had to have been last Friday, while she was at the opera, a form of entertainment Robert all but detested. He had been scheduled to go with her, but had called from his office saying something had come up and he had to work late, a common enough occurrence.
She had called Jodi to see if she was free, but learned she had plans for the evening. So Mikki had gone alone.
Well, she had a pretty good idea what had come up, and what Jodi's plans had been. Now, it was her turn to play. She thought she knew what she wanted, but whom to call? It took a few days to get the information, but she was satisfied she had the right person.
She chose a matching bra and bikini panties. Lacy to the point of see through, and pastel pink, it was dramatically highlighted against her dusky latina skin. She selected a knee length, emerald green skirt, made up of several small pleats, so it seemed to ripple around her thighs when she walked.
On top, she decided on a pale green, almost celery colored, pull over, with a deep V-neck, which revealed just a hint of the cleavage her C-cups created. She topped the outfit with a deep plum colored bolero jacket which hugged her ample curves without hiding any of them.
Smitty watched as the Caddy limo turned into the small strip mall housing his studio. There were a half dozen storefronts besides his, topped by one storey of storage space and a third floor of apartments. His work area took up nearly three quarters of the sub-surface area.
The Caddy made its way to park right in front of his reception area. He waited , leaning on the desk, sipping at a coffee. Through the window, he saw a pair of men, who looked like the Men in Black, get out of the car. One remained by the front fender as the other opened the passenger side rear door. A few seconds later, a tall, dark-haired, busty woman, wearing mirrored sun glasses, emerged from the back of the limo.
The trio made their way to his door and entered. "Mr. Smith? Is there someplace we can talk privately?" the attractive Latina asked.
Smitty nodded and, without a word, led her down a small hall, past a powder room, to his private area. Mikki set the paper bag she was carrying on the desk and sat down in one of the side chairs in the room. Holding up his coffee, he asked if she wanted some. When she shook her head no, Smitty sat down in the other chair, facing her. "Mrs?"
"Not yet. I haven't totally convinced myself I want to do this. If I change my mind, it's better if you don't know."
"Your nickel. What is it you think you might want to do?"
"I have evidence my husband cheated on me. Not that that is unusual. He travels a lot, and certainly doesn't remain celibate on his trips, but that's work related. This time, he screwed a friend of mine, in my house, in my bed." Her voice started to break as her anger took hold. She paused for a deep breath. "I told him when we got married, I didn't care what he did when he traveled, but when he was home, his...cock was mine."
"Why the hesitation just now?"
"I'm not in the habit of swearing in front of strangers. But then, I thought, we probably won't be strangers for long."
Smitty laughed. "Just what is it you want to do; want me to do?"
"I told Bob, my husband, if I ever caught him screwing around, he shouldn't be surprised if I take a lover. I'm not looking for a lover, but I want to show him I'm as capable of sport fucking as he is."
"Mmhmm. Is that all you want to do, get fucked on camera. You don't need me to do that."
"No, I want it to look like you...not really seduced me, more like I needed to be convinced to do it, like some of your shyer auditions; and I want to do it all,
mamadas...felacio
, and get totally fucked, in all three holes." Her anger and determination were obvious, in her voice, and in her expression.
Smitty raised his eyebrows. "Multiple partners?"
"I hadn't thought about that. Who?" she asked, clearly intrigued
"Rico, my cameraman, would certainly be willing to participate. Your... 'escorts?' Can they be trusted?"
"They better be, or, they know, their next assignments will be cleaning the toilets at Gitmo or some other equatorial hell hole without air conditioning or indoor plumbing."
"They are Special Service then?" He hesitated, waiting for an answer. When none but a shocked look was forthcoming, he asked, "You are Mikki Gilbert?" Mikki's astonishment was almost comical to see.
"Your sister, Teresa, is one of my best customers, outside of the adult category. She called a bit after you did this morning to tell me she had given you my name; said that you wanted some help putting together a, what did she call it, a stag film. I haven't heard that term in years."
"I couldn't very well tell her I wanted to star in it," Mikki laughed. "Teresa's fairly broad minded, but I'm afraid that would have shocked even her.
"Will you do it, Mr. Smith?"
"Smitty'll do, Mrs..."
"It's Mikki, to my friends." She hesitated. "I can't ask Joe or Harry, but if you did, one or the other might join in, as long as he could be assured no one would know who it was. You, too; I want you to be anonymous, too. I don't want my husband to be able to identify anyone in the film."
"No problem. How long can you stay today?"
"My husband is traveling and I don't have any appointments until day after tomorrow, and it's for dinner."
"Your escorts?"
"Have to check in at five, if they're not able to be relieved at the usual time."
"So, we've got at least four hours. Shall we go to the studio?"
Mikki half recognized the set. She was sure she had seen it before, in some of the audition tapes she had learned Smitty had produced. The room was decorated fairly neutrally, so it didn't pull the viewers' attention from the main activity. There was a couch, an easy chair and a bed, all made up and ready for use.
Smitty directed her to the couch while he went to set up the cameras and turn them on. She noticed a small console next to the easy chair. She sat down, half turned on the couch, facing the chair, knees together, hands in her lap. Nervous.
Smitty sat in the chair. As he normally did, he started by getting some identifying information from his subject—first name, birth date, birthplace. He then began asking about her family, "What did your father do?"