The Casting Couch

Editor's Note: Comments and constructive criticisms are highly appreciated. Thank you for reading.

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"Abigail Marcus."

"Yes, Mr. O'Neal, sir."

"Please, call me James."

James O'Neal glanced down at the picture enclosed in the profile, comparing it to the woman in front of him. "What happened to your hair?"

"Oh, uh..." Abigail ran a hand nervously over her blond hair. "I bleached it. My agent told me the character is a blonde."

"So you're naturally a redhead?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good. I like the way you look, Abigail. Your face, at least. This movie requires the female lead to wear really tight-fitting clothes for some scenes and you look skinny enough. You'll be required to hang from wires and have quite a few fight scenes. We'll have to arrange a few workout sessions with a personal trainer to build your muscles and stamina a bit. We have to make sure you can withstand the physical punishment while looking the part," he said.

"I understand perfectly," she replied.

James looked at her resume. "It appears this movie just might be your next big break, Abigail."

She nodded and smiled. "Everybody knows you're the go-to director for action movies," she said. "And you're well-known for being accommodating to newcomers." James O'Neal had muses throughout his directing career over the years. Each one had been a newcomer and shot their way up to the A-list after a few years. Rumor had it that James was looking for a new muse since his last one had gotten married, and Abigail hoped to score that esteemed position.

At thirty, Abigail was still young, yet by Hollywood standards, she was a little too old for a newcomer. Yet she felt confident she could nail this casting. James was renowned for casting older women, who would later become his muses, for his movies. He had famously stated that he hated the inequality faced by actresses as they aged and vowed to do the best he could to change the culture.

Abigail had always loved to act but she had been hesitant to take that first step, afraid that she would never make the cut. When she had been nineteen she'd learned about James O'Neal. Since then she had watched every movie he'd made and had gone to every premiere in the hopes of seeing him in person. She'd changed her major from business to drama and theatre and renewed her passion for acting. For the past six years, she had only been an extra. When she had gotten a call about the casting she'd promised herself that she would get the part no matter what. Besides directing this newest movie, James was going to be the producer as well so it was important for her to give a stellar performance today.

James laughed. "You're too kind. I have to admit it was very flattering. I just love working with fresh blood. I found them very inspiring and they are always so eager to please."

James had a penchant for mature women. He had had several relationships with older women since college. He found their poise and confidence alluring. And as he grew older the age gap shrunk and he still found them more appealing than ever and they, in turn, found him attractive despite his eccentricity.

When he'd seen Abigail Marcus' profile, he'd gone to learn everything he could about her, as he had always done for his previous conquests. When he'd found that she was vying to play the female lead, he'd known he'd struck gold. Women like her were always so desperate they would do anything to get the part they wanted, including sexual favors. Now he finally got to see how far Abigail was willing to go.

He chuckled. "Most importantly, when they accept their awards, they like to thank me for giving them a chance. That's always good for my ego." Abigail laughed, surprised by his candidness. His easy-going demeanor put her at ease.

"Five-eight," James muttered to himself, his eyes on her profile. "You have the right height to be a badass fighter," he continued as he looked back up at her. "Can you stand for me?"

Abigail pushed her chair back from the table and went to stand a few feet away so that he could look at the entire length of her body. "Can you lose the jacket, please?" he said. She quickly did as she was told, letting her jacket fall to the floor. He huffed, seemingly unsatisfied.

The nervous fluttering returned to her stomach. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's a shame you're wearing that dress. I can't visualize your body form," he said. "Do you mind taking that off for me?"

Abigail gave a start. "Here? Now?"

James frowned. "The next time I'm dealing with the actors of this movie will be during the callback. Are you expecting one if you can't follow a simple instruction?"

She blushed, unable to form a response to the question. "I'm sorry," she said meekly after a while. "That was stupid of me."

James' frown disappeared to be replaced with a look of resignation. "I'm sorry, too," he said with a sigh. "That was harsh of me to say that. You've never been through a casting before, I take it."

She nodded. "This is my first time playing a character with a dialogue."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, Abigail," he said and got to his feet, grabbing the papers on his table. "Come on. Let's go loosen up a bit." He opened a door inside his office and Abigail followed his lead. In contrast to the office, the floor here was carpeted. There was a full-sized bar and the wall behind it was lined with shelves holding various-sized bottles. A flat-screen TV mounted on the wall faced a black L-shaped couch in one corner of the room. Abigail thought the room was more like a den.

"Is there anything you'd like to drink?" James asked, going to the bar. She hesitated to decline; she didn't want to be rude. James smiled. "A cocktail, maybe? I just want you to loosen up, not to inebriate you. I still have a job to do."

She relaxed a bit. "A cocktail would be great."

"Anything particular?"

She shrugged. "Something sweet?"

"Not a drinker, I presume?" he asked. "I'll make something light."

Abigail took a seat on one of the bar stools and watched James lined several bottles on the bar. She watched, almost mesmerized, as he measured and poured from the various bottles into the shaker along with mint leaves and ice. He closed on the metal cap and shook it, even doing some of those fancy moves a seasoned bartender would make, eliciting a few laughs and whoops from Abigail. He took a rocks glass, filled it with ice and poured the mixture into it. Then he cut up a piece of lemon and wedged it to the side of the glass. "For you," he said, offering the drink to Abigail.

"Thank you," she said. "This looks like iced tea."

"Sweet like one, too." He took another rocks glass, poured two shots of whiskey into it and held it up. Abigail mimicked his gesture and they saluted each other before taking a drink.

"How does that taste?" he asked.

"It's very nice," she replied, taking another sip.

"It looks more like a glassful of farts," he said and she laughed.

"Why did you learn how to make cocktails then, if you hate them so much?" she asked.

"To impress women, mainly," he shrugged unapologetically.

"You could just pull out a bottle of Dom Perignon," she countered.

He snorted. "Come on, where's the fun in that? It's a good ice breaker, especially for first dates," he said and Abigail laughed again. "Look at that smile, now," he said softly. Abigail found herself blushing under James' heated gaze. "It's a shame the character in the movie is a cold-blooded murderer. There won't be much chance for me to showcase your beautiful smile on film," he added.

"Thanks," she said softly and took another sip of her cocktail.

"Who knows, maybe we can work together in another movie, a love story perhaps," he said.

"I'd be honored to be given an opportunity to work with you," she said, hamming it up now that James had opened the gates. "It's not every day I get to learn from the best."

He merely smiled. "So eager to please," he said softly. He picked up the stack of papers beside him. "Ready to work?"

"Yes," she replied. The cocktail warmed her body, and she felt completely relaxed.

"Good, let's come this way." James led her to the back which was partitioned off from the rest of the room with a wall. There was a bed with a nightstand on either side of it. There was also a closet with full-length mirrors for doors and another TV mounted on the wall. Another door led to where Abigail assumed was to the bathroom. "Take off your clothes. I'll be right back with the camera."

"Camera?" she asked.

"For reference," he replied. He went to the closet and took out a camera and tripod. "I cast a lot of actors, and have a hard time remembering who's who. I record each one that I cast so that it's easier for me to choose a candidate. It will also make it quicker for me to decide on the camera angle and the kind of presentation I want to make in a scene when it comes to the real thing."

Abigail accepted his explanation without further questions. She quickly pulled her dress up and over her head, her eagerness renewed to make up for her earlier mistake of questioning the director's request. For one fleeting moment, she was glad she had worn her better set of bra and panties. At least she would look good if she were to be on camera.

James set the tripod right in front of the mirrors and angled the camera to the direction of the bed. "As you already know, the storyline is about a woman trying to get her revenge by murdering a man who happens to be very powerful. She has to use deception and seduction on his people in order to gain access to him." He looked back at her. "So I need you to strike some poses, do things which you would normally do to get a man's attention or get him to want you," he said.

Abigail ran her fingers through her hair, teasing it until it looked like she had just gotten out of bed. She bit her lower lip and turned halfway around, showing James her back and the curve of her ass.

"Good, that's good," James murmured with his eyes on the viewer of the camera. "Beautiful. You look really beautiful through the lens."

"Thank you," she replied, feeling glad that the director approved of what he saw. Feeling significantly more confident, she sat on the bed before leaning back slowly, thrusting out her chest. Then she flipped onto her stomach and looked back at James, smiling playfully.

He chuckled at her act. "You're getting good at this. So natural." He reached for the script and read. "There's going to be some nude scenes in this film." He looked back up at her. "Strip down and we'll run over the scene once."

Abigail felt her stomach turned. She didn't know she would be expected to be completely naked. For a split second, she considered bailing, but the thought of being James O'Neal's muse rooted her to the spot. She looked at the director, who had his eyebrows raised, looking back at her expectantly.

"Of course," she said, keeping her voice soft to mask the quivering. She took a deep calming breath and unsnapped her bra and pulled her panties down. She straightened and looked at James. He gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering at the spot between her thighs.

"You certainly didn't lie about being a redhead," he said. "Lie back down on the bed and give me your best shot."

She laid flat on the mattress, trying to calm her racing heart. She felt uncomfortable exposing her nakedness, especially to someone who was virtually a stranger, but she held her tongue. She didn't want James to think that she was difficult. She badly wanted the role. She had run through the draft script before so she began to act out the scene. She squeezed her breasts before running her hands down her body and arched her back. "You're late, Adam," she said seductively.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, baby," James murmured, reciting the line of the script from memory. "Sam was on one of his drunken rants again."

Her hands stopped just below her navel. "It's okay. You're here," she said, smiling at him.

James nodded. "Very good, Abigail," he said.

"I'm glad you approve," she said. She started to sit but he stopped her.

"Don't get up just yet. We're far from over," he said. "I want to take a close up of your breasts. There's going to be a shot of Adam sucking your nipples."

"There is?" she asked. She didn't remember a scene like that in the script.

He waved his hand. "I'm thinking of adding that in. But first, I need the shot. I want to see the effect on camera."

Abigail took a deep breath to relax. It wasn't that big of a deal for an actress to expose her breasts in a movie, she told herself.

James walked over to the bed. "Nice and relaxed," he praised. He cupped her breasts, pushing them together gently. "You have really nice tits. Has anybody ever told you that?"

"Thank you," she merely said.

He gently massaged the soft muscles, gradually working his way upwards to the tips. He wetted his fingers and rolled her nipples in between them. Abigail held her breath. She was letting a man whom she barely knew to touch her in such an intimate and erotic way. It felt surreal. She must be dreaming.

"You have to show the man that you're enjoying this," James said. "How much you wanted his touch. You don't want Adam to think something's up, do you, Ira?" He called Abigail by the female character's name. "Got to make sure his guard is down, thinking that he actually gets to be in your pussy."

Abigail closed her eyes to help her get into character. James' teasing was getting her aroused. "Adam," she whispered desperately.

"Don't overdo it," he warned. "Be natural. Act like how you normally would behind closed doors."

Keeping her eyes closed, she imagined it was her boyfriend who was touching her, instead of James. It was surprisingly easy. James was being gentle like her boyfriend would. She moaned softly. "Yes," she whispered and arched her back.

"You want more, baby?" he asked.

"Yes," she said again.

He leaned down and kissed her lips, startling her. She opened her eyes to see him close, kissing his way down to her neck and collarbone. She reminded herself to stay in character. She had to continue her role. When James licked her nipple, she reached out to hold his shoulders. He licked and sucked on the hard nub. He turned to the other side and gave the other nipple the same treatment. He was being slobbery, lying on a thick coat of saliva on her skin. She shivered at the coldness. His hands came back up to play with her nipples, his fingers sliding over the slippery skin.

"Your titties are so perfect, Ira," he whispered feverishly. "So soft and full." He closed his lips over a nipple, the sucking sound magnified in the otherwise quiet room. Abigail kept her eyes closed but she couldn't keep a whimper from escaping. "You like it when I play with your titties, don't you, baby? You must be so wet."

Suddenly he got up, leaving her breathing hard on the bed. He went to the camera and focused it on her breasts, still glistening with his saliva. He grinned, pleased with what he saw. "Look at you, beautiful." His eyes left the viewer to look at her directly. "Spread your legs for me."

Abigail sucked in a breath. She was not sure if she should be doing this because this was not in the script. She was not even sure if James was playing the character reciting his lines or if he was back to being the director. Whatever the case, she didn't want to argue with him. She parted her thighs slowly, trying not to show her nervousness. "Bend your knees. Show me your pussy," he added. She complied, lifting her knees until she was completely exposed. James adjusted the camera and went to the bed to closely look at her. "You're dry," he said, surprised. "You have to show that you desire to be with the man, Abigail. You need to show that you're ready to fuck."

"Oh, uh..." Abigail couldn't come up with an answer. Although it had felt good when James was playing with her breasts, she wasn't really that aroused.

"Here, let me help you," he said and before she could react, he slid a finger along the seam of her vagina and pushed in. She let out a startled cry and her first instinct was to get away. He put a hand on her knee, stopping her. "It's alright, Abigail. Relax." He parted her thighs once more. "You have to get in character," he said, sliding his finger back into her pussy. "You're dry as a desert. How do you expect that callback if you couldn't act?"

The mention of callback stiffened her resolution. She forced herself to relax. She needed to relax. She wanted that role so badly. "That's right, Abigail. You're softening. That's a good girl. I like good girls," he said. His soft voice seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her. She felt herself being pulled into a whirlpool of desire. "You're getting wetter and you smell so sweet, like an exotic fruit." He teased her clit with his other hand, stimulating the sensitive bud.

Abigail let out a long moan. Despite her earlier apprehension, she could feel an orgasm coming close. James slid two fingers into her pussy, stretching her slightly. "You hear that?" he asked. Her pussy was making a soft, squelching sound with every push of his fingers. "You're getting into character," he praised.

"James, I'm close... so close," she moaned.

"It's alright, Abigail. Just let go when you're there. You are such a good girl. I want you to come all over my hand," he said.

Her senses were overflowed with pleasure and she gave in. She arched her back and let out a drawn-out moan, abandoning all sense of self-preservation.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, grabbing the front of his shirt as she climaxed.

"Yes, beautiful, beautiful," he murmured. He withdrew his fingers gently and trailed them down her thighs, spreading the moisture over her skin. Leaving Abigail still whimpering on the bed, he got up to focus the camera on her glistening skin. "Absolute perfection," he said softly. "I could picture Ira masturbating on Adam's bed, giving him a nice surprise when he walks into the room."

Abigail opened her eyes at last as her breathing returned to normal. "Are you actually going to put it on film?" she asked.

James shrugged. "Who knows? The creative process is a very organic thing. It ebbs and flows like a live being. If it makes sense, I don't see why not. I am not aiming for a 'G' anyway"

"I just... didn't realize this would be an explicit revenge film," she said.

"The world of mobsters isn't all diamonds and drugs and guns, Abigail. I want to show the audience all the nitty-gritty details, including the sex scenes. I want to show the audience how much Ira is willing to do to exact revenge," he explained. He pressed a few buttons. "Come and look at your performance."

She went to stand next to him to look at the small screen of the camera. The picture quality made it look like a sex tape or badly made porn. She watched herself writhing on the sheets as James touched and kissed her intimately. She could see the ecstasy on her face as she rode his hand. She could even hear the wet sounds her pussy made.

James stopped the playback and turned to her. "What do you think?"

"I made a mistake. I called your real name instead of the character's name," she admitted.

He smiled. "The first step of correcting a mistake is to own it. And I didn't mind that mistake. You had been so lost in the passion you simply forgot everything else around you. That makes good acting." He turned the camera off. "You've been impressive so far. Come on, let's take a break. You deserve it," he added. Abigail turned to pick up her clothes. "We're not done yet, Abigail. There's no need to get dressed."

"But... I'm naked," she said meekly, worried that she might offend the director again for being contradictive.

He sighed. "Here." He went to the wardrobe and took out a camisole set with a thin wraparound. "I don't want your mind to stray too far away from Ira. You have to keep her within grasp at all times. Putting your own clothes back will disrupt your mind."