Chapter 9
The bustle at the studio impressed Paula Meyers. People moved about rapidly, conscious of wasting time. Television production was expensive and demanded expedition. Those operating on shoestring budgets were acutely aware of getting the job done within the prescribed frames. She admired the professionalism at work.
Someone took a handful of her ass and gave her a playful pinch. Paula yelped. The offender was Tim Mulberry, director of Hunter's Game. Nick Giambalvo wrangled her a bit part on the show, based on her expectation of finding Sheila. A mystery seemed to revolve around their missing friend and Meridian Pictures.
"Tim," Paula squealed, "to what do I owe that rude gesture?"
"Testosterone, what else?"
They'd heavily flirted all morning during filming. Paula suspected that Tim would hit on her, given the abundance of attention she showered upon him. The pinch merely affirmed her assumption.
Tim, a dark-haired Irish man in his mid-thirties, appeared to have no problem attracting the eye of the opposite sex. Actresses, make-up personnel and the like were genuinely drawn to him. That Paula immediately bewitched him simplified her task.
Other people milled about, nodding at her in passing. Linda and she had made the rounds, cornering directors, producers, writers, actors and other technicians, with their pendants. The outcome was the same. Nobody recalled seeing Sheila. The only thing it gained them was a wider subscription of slaves.
Paula smirked at the number of Meridian employees she fucked and sucked. Linda, too, had many of them. The past week had essentially been a procession of endless flesh, begotten by their mesmerizing jewels.
"Hey, how about grabbing a sandwich with me?" he suggested. "We can eat in my trailer."
"Something tells me the food you'd offer would be between your legs."
"Baby," he said, grinning, "I'm gonna feed you well."
Of that, she had no doubt. Tim looked as though he carried quite a package, judging from the bulge. She envisioned a lively ordeal in his private quarters.
She would have preferred working in concert with Linda, but her partner was arranging a meeting with the studio chief. Linda sent her to the studio to work solo for the day.
"Well?" Tim pressed. "How about it? Is it a date?"
Paula clasped her diamond pendant. Tim was scheduled for an initiation. She could competently handle him herself. "Sure."
Paula, kneeling in front of Tim, rose to her feet. Her saliva dribbled down his cock, accumulating at his balls. Tim, paralyzed in his chair, stared into limbo. He was no trouble at all.
She showed him the picture of Sheila and essentially obtained a shrug. She reached a point in which most people did not remember a single thing about that party.
She brought him out of it. He stirred at her reviving lick, his balls sticking to her tongue. Rapidly blinking, he regained his focus. She enclosed his saliva-greasy shaft. Tim's thick member vibrated in her grip.
"Move your hand up and down," he urged. "Stroke me."
Paula obeyed. Her fingers worked for his satisfaction. He groaned from her effort.
Tim shifted in his seat. "You give outstanding head, baby. Look at that thing. It's rock-hard."
Paula was drawn to it. She put her mouth on it, sampling him with her lips. His male salt dissolved on her tongue. She licked him some more, savoring his unique spice. Each cock tasted different.
He sat, his thighs spread widely apart. His fat dick curved high in the air, awaiting her consumption. "Put me down your throat."
Paula stroked his smooth, muscled thighs. Her tongue flicked its bulbous knob. She licked it again, treating him to tingling dabs of saliva.
He sat back, leaning into her mouth. "Come on, baby. Take the whole thing."
She engaged him with quick, playful flicks, moistening each section. His pulse became more prevalent as she rolled about with her dancing tip.
"Yes," he grunted, throwing his head back. "Yes."
She could tell, from his harsh exhalations, that he wanted her mouth to stay where it was. He brushed the curls from her face, momentarily obstructing his view. Those eyes recorded every tongue-provoking second.
Her lazy slurps made wonderful contact, protracting the length of his cock. Her tip twirled over the mass of veins and warm flesh. He tasted very manly. She left a trail of bubbles along the skin of his cock, enough to torment.
He groaned. "Don't stop. Suck on it." He pressed down on her head, but Paula avoided attaching her lips. She wasn't through slobbering that hard dick. She suspended his agony for several more moments, slithering about its throbbing exterior, making it juicy with spit.
Paula mouthed his slippery flesh. "You taste the way a man ought to. I love licking your cock and using my tongue." She did not limit herself strictly to his shaft. She dipped her wriggling tip to his balls. His pubes brushed her lips. She clamped the taut flesh, unconcerned about getting hair in her mouth, and sucked. She started flicking against that sensitive area until he vibrated.
"Good tongue action," he muttered from above, grabbing her head. "Come on, baby, put it in your mouth. Now, baby. I need to feel your hot suck."
"Not yet," she whispered.
"Come on, baby," he groaned, bearing down. "Get those sweet lips around it. Take me down your throat."
Her tongue traced the snarl of veins, branching in various directions. She coated him with her shivering drool. She deepened her strokes, lapping the enlarged cockhead along the dark rim, breathing heavily over his aroused flesh. She resisted attaching her lips.
Tim's patience expired. He'd tolerated her methods long enough. Seizing her head in a strong grasp, he helped her to descend. She moaned, and when her lips opened, he inserted the bulbous head. Having gained access, he proceeded to work it inside her.
"Suck it, Paula, suck it good," he gasped. "Eat that thing, keep it stiff. Gorge yourself. Let me fuck your beautiful face." He pushed enough in her without choking her, then relaxed his hold. Achieving momentary satisfaction, he encouraged her to develop a heart-stopping pucker.
She quivered, wrapping her legs around his muscled thigh. She rubbed her cuntal mound to that part of him, feeling her desire for him in the sopping wetness of her crotch. She raised her hips, imploring him to cup her ass. He did, reading her mental suggestion. Oh, God, that large hand of his spanned most her butt. Those fingers delved into her crack, searching for the source of her liquid heat. He got her excited, fingering her. Surely, he felt the moisture and knew how hot he was getting her. Her eager shifting and moaning implored him to keep his digit in motion.
She welded her lips to his cock with a hot, siphoning force. She was determined to milk him of cum. Her face dipped rhythmically to his groin, swallowing more each time. She was going to gradually deep-throat him, increasing her intake with each pounding moment.
He basked in her oral clench. "Put those luscious lips around me. Swallow it. Make it fit. Show me how much you can take. Yeah, eat that thing, eat me good. Gulp my cock."
He massaged her groin until she was shaking with want. His thumb found her clit and flicked it.
Paula shivered. Tim got her all squishy. Back and forth his thumb went, delivering a barrage of sparks. She could scarcely concentrate on his dick, he left her so numb. She sucked even harder on that monstrous thing.
"I want you to swallow it," he ordered, filling her mouth. "You're going to drink my cum."
Panting, she readily agreed.
Tim lost it in that gorgeous face. His hot goo poured in her mouth. He bellowed with joy as she made it disappear, gulp after gulp. The chick had a flair for sucking cock.
"Whew," he muttered. "I'm sure glad I hired you. Nice job. Keep it up, and you'll be steadily employed. There's always more roles, more walk-ons." He stroked his dick. "How does that sound, baby?"
She pulled on her clothes. "Do I get to keep working under you?"
He grinned. "But of course."
After dressing, she glanced out the window and almost fainted. Outside, strolling across the lot, was Sheila Davenport. From her vacuous expression, Paula believed her in a daze.
"Oh, my God," Paula gasped.
She dashed out of the trailer, swerving around people. Equipment, trailers, trucks gravitated toward her as though deliberately thwarting her progress. She swore under her breath, desperately trying to catch her.
"Sheila!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Sheila! Wait! It's me, Paula!"
Sheila, far ahead of her, walked into the last building.
Paula raced after her, finding an empty corridor. At the end, a room with an open door beckoned. Paula concluded that Sheila must have entered the room and turned on the light.
"Sheila, are you in there?" Paula asked, hurrying along. "Please answer me? We've been tearing apart the studio, trying to find you."
No answer came. Paula entered the room, which appeared to contain costumes and props. Before she could conduct a complete search, the room was plunged into blackness. Someone had hit the switch. Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and then a shuffle of feet moved toward her.
Shrieks echoed in the room, then total silence.