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Casting Couch

Posted on August 31, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

The assistant led the actress into the office and instructed her to sit down, on the snowy white couch facing the desk. The actress found that a little surprising because there were two perfectly good chairs much closer to the desk of the man she was there to meet. Still she knew better than to argue so she sat down and tried not to look as tense as she was feeling. The assistant left the room and went to the adjoining cabin that was less than half the size of the office the girl was sitting in.

Her boss was in there, smoking a cigarette. Which was against both office and building rules. Everyone knew he had deactivated the smoke detector a long time ago. Everyone also knew he hadn’t done it himself. He acknowledged her presence with a question, “What do you think?”

He was of course referring to the very beautiful young woman she had just seated in the other room. Unknown to the girl in the room and all the others that occupied the very same couch over the course of seven days, the director of the movie was watching them through a one-way mirror. The assistant only had eyes for him but he was too occupied with the little tart in the other room to notice. Of course they had fucked, right there in the viewing room; on the steel table that was always cold and reminded her of a hospital. If she had said as much to him he might have stuffed his dick back into his pants and dismissed her for having killed the mood. Or, he would have quizzed her about how a seven thousand dollar piece of designer furniture reminded her of a hospital. So she had waited for him to anoint her with his love stick in the hope that the encounter would make her the ‘fairest assistant of them all’ but alas she was merely a receptacle for a man seeking release. The union was neither repeated nor alluded to, ever again.

He turned around, forehead creased like a mini skirt that had been hastily pushed up to get at the goods underneath and essayed a circle with the cigarette, “Well?”

She snapped out of her reverie and went over to peer at the girl through the one way window, “Oh. Her. She has a nice look. It’s also interesting that she chose a t-shirt and shredded denim skirt as her ‘sexy’ outfit. It signifies a girl who can be hot going to the supermarket. I’m not sure about what she’d look like in a gown though. Casual sexy she can definitely pull off, the rest…I guess we won’t know until we put her in something and see how she wears it.”

He nodded, “Very good. You’ve been paying attention.”

She bowed her head and allowed herself a small smile. Maybe there was hope after all…

He sidled up to her and sighed, “Do you think I smoke too much?”

She didn’t know how to respond and she was made even more unsure by the fact that his right hand was cupping her ass. Her mind was racing. Their encounter in this very same room had been months ago and everyone knew that he had since fucked the famous actress on top of the copying machine while running off copies through the whole thing. When the actress had turned down the part he threatened to run an animation composed of their sex photocopies in the film. There had been rumours of potential live-in relationship not too long after the whole flare up prompting several ‘blackmail is the new first base’ jokes.

He was hot enough for her to hold a wildly flickering candle for something bigger and better coming out of their fourteen minutes of passion but she was also realistic enough to know that in Hollywood a girl was less likely to go from the casting couch to the marriage counselor’s couch (with a man she truly desired) than she was to become a hot-shot director herself. Which was why she had worked so hard to get a job as assistant to a working director in Hollywood. She was certain that the actress was only the most famous of his many conquests since she had last been graced by his sex unit. All she had to show for her fifteen months on the job was a brief sexual encounter with a boss she was certain had slept with everyone else in the office, a short unfulfilling relationship with a second AD she was certain was gay and experimenting, and another brief interlude with a special effects guy who likened every part of the sex act to a special effects problem he had solved at some point in his career. She had thought it was cute that a man was so into his work until he told her that getting her to spread her legs had been like that time he had to come up with a new way for Moses to part the Red Sea for a TV movie before adding that parting the Red Sea had been more difficult. She dumped his ass right then.

So she really didn’t know what to do about the fact that a barely legal girl was sitting across from her while the man who might hire her (and probably have sex with her) was grabbing her ass in the other room.

He turned his lips towards her ears without ever taking his eyes off the other girl and said, “Do you know what I call that beautiful piece of furniture in there. That white beauty? Do you know what I call it?”

Her voice came out all breathy and suspended because he was doing some stuff to her back there that felt really, really good, “No. What?”

She could sense his face breaking into a smile as he said, “My casting couch.”

She involuntarily clenched her butt cheeks when something surprised or irritated her so naturally the man with the magic fingers noticed, “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, “No. Nothing.”

“Then why so clenched?”

She forced herself to relax. After another thirty seconds of kneading her ass and watching the latest aspirant occupy his beloved couch the big man said, “I’ve never fucked anyone on that you know.”

She clenched again.

He looked at her, really looked at her and said, “What’s wrong with you? You’re more uptight than my wife after another visit to her plastic surgeon.”

In spite of herself, and the situation, she managed a giggle. He sounded pleased when he continued, “You’re all natural, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“Good. Go bend over the table. I want to see what effect our fucking will have on Miss I Want To Be A Star In The Clothes I Went To The Mall In. I want to know if she will be turned on by the passion of unseen eyes drilling into her as I drill into you.”

If the famed director with the designer casting couch had been palming her breasts instead of cupping her ass, he might have noticed how fast and hard her heart was beating. Even as she proceeded to bend over and hike up her skirt, it occurred to the girl who would be no more than assistant that he probably didn’t posses the organ that was beating so wildly in her own chest.

As he searched for his rhythm she watched the girl in the other room. She wondered if she had set out on the road to compromising her principles for another leg up on the ladder to fame and success. The actress looked young enough to seem unspoiled but the assistant knew that the corruption of souls happened earlier and earlier in the City of Cinematic Dreams.

As her boss’s breathing quickened and he started to make the grunting sounds she remembered from all those months ago, the assistant debated what she would have for lunch.

She also wondered idly whether it was too late for her to order up a custom t-shirt that read, “Not A Sperm Bank. So Keep Your Deposit.” As her boss edged ever closer to his happy ending she sighed and dreamed about the possibility of getting hit by a car later that day.

It never once occurred to her to consider looking for another job.

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