As the gaffer and cameraman erected their equipment, a short, pudgy man with a bushy gray goatee stood by with Agent Gerald Maytag of the FBI. "Yes, it is necessary," the man was saying to Maytag. "Besides, these are my people, and I'm the one paying for them, not the Justice Department."

"I understand that, Sol, but you are wasting my time by holding me here, as well as Agent Stanton, and Miss Arnheim from INS."

Sol Green glanced over at the four women in the room. He knew Agent Stanton from before. She was a dish, and he would love to get her in one of his pictures sometime. Shiny dark hair always caught his attention.

The other figure he knew was the dishwater blonde who had flown out with him, his cameraman, and their equipment. He only knew her work name: Linda Lynn. But she had consented to a three day trip out east, in the winter, for a small payday. Her glamour shots looked good, too. Pretty face and poorly-dyed hair, but bright green eyes and thin red lips that looked like a short strip of ribbon. Small tits, which could be fixed, and pink gumdrop nipples, which didn't need fixing.

Sol guessed she was from the East Coast, and was feeling a little homesick. She'd probably only been in California for two months. Not long enough to be known in all the industry circles, get hooked on one drug or another, or develop a prima donna attitude. Certainly not long enough to have breast implants. Long enough to get homesick, though, which was probably why she agreed to take the job.

That left the two other women, a local makeup artist hired for the day out of the phonebook, and Arnheim from the Immigration and Naturalization Service. He guessed that the one in the tight black pants was the makeup artist, and that the frumpy one was the civil servant.

"Gerry, hear me out," Sol began. Sol used Maytag's partly out of resentment for the formality of the process, but mostly because because he was accustomed to show-biz schmoozing. "This gig is important to me. Do you think I want to go through this bullshit without going all the way? The last thing I need is some bureaucrat telling me 'No' because we did not fully demonstrate 'adeptness in the complete work environment', or some other horseshit like that."

"Then why not fly all of us out to California, Sol?" asked Maytag half-seriously.

"I would have loved that. I could have afforded two or three girls, and the demonstration would be beyond a doubt."

Maytag laughed, then folded his arms across his chest. He knew he wasn't going to win the argument, but he argued anyway. "OK, Sol, I understand being a little paranoid, but I can't let you actually film it. Just simulate the lights, camera, and action stuff."

"You're going to let him actually fuck her, right? No simulation there. Why not let me defray my expenses, as a businessman, by getting some legitimate product out of this?"

The gaffer, hired locally like the makeup artist, stepped over to Sol's side. He wore faded blue jeans and a Redskins sweatshirt. "We need about fifteen minutes, Mr. Green," he interjected before walking back to his trade work.

"Makeup," Sol yelled. He then turned to Maytag. "I paid for these people, and I'm shooting film, Gerry." Agent Heather Stanton walked up to the two men. "Where is our movie star, anyway?"

Sol Green looked at her and smiled before he spoke. "Agent Stanton," Sol slowly enunciated. "I'm sorry I didn't say hello earlier. Gerry and I were negotiating the conditions of the shoot."

"I see. Glad that the two of you are getting along so well," replied Stanton.

"Always, always," said Sol. "And I believe Nikola is in the bathroom. Let me go get him." Sol walked away, and Maytag and Stanton exchanged glances that summed up their thoughts about their latest assignment. Arnheim sidled up to them.

Sol Green's guess was wrong: the frumpy one was the make-up artist, not the bureaucrat. Arnheim was a young woman in her early thirties, with teased and curled chestnut colored hair and heavy black eyeliner. She wore tight black knit pants that flared slightly at the bottom, platform heels, and a white gray and black ribbed cotton top. Maytag didn't think it proper attire for a formal field assignment, but he also thought this was an entirely improper field assignment.

"When does this dog and pony show get started?" Arnheim asked.

"You have to ask Sol Green that question," answered Maytag.

Sol Green was in the bathroom with Nikola Kinescu. When they first met, Nikola was working as part of a nightclub act in Budapest. "Nightclub act" was a perfectly reasonable name for fucking on stage if one considered that Sol Green told people he made motion pictures.

Nikola was Romanian, not Hungarian. He lived just across the border, and he was a natural on stage in the Budapest nightclub. Sol was impressed with his talent, and invited Nikola to be in a film, or more accurately, video, that was being shot on location in Budapest. Nikola accepted and appeared under the name Nick Roman. According to Sol Green, Nikola's scenes in "Budapest Butt-Bang Bonanza" were absolute fan favorites. Since Nikola had already immigrated to one country to ply his skills, Sol asked him if was interested in coming to the States. Nikola was thrilled about the idea; the INS was not.

Sol was outraged. He said that Nikola would have a job and be provided for, and that "Budapest Butt-Bang Bonanza" illustrated his work skills. In Sol's opinion that should have been enough. So he contacted his San Fernando valley Congressman, Jesse Rollins. Sol was active in fund raising for Rollins, and the adult film industry was an important part of the congressional district's economy. Rollins pulled the right strings at Justice, and this field operation was the result: a demonstration of Nikola Kinescu's skills for the speculative INS agent in charge of his petition.

"You ready, Nick?" asked Sol.

Nikola flushed the toilet, and emerged from the stall holding an English phrase book in one hand and tucking his shirt in with the other. Nikola was tall, with a short military brush cut. Onyx eyes peered out over an angular nose. He looked at Sol and grinned widely. "Fuck you Sol Green, I am to be always ready. We go fuck now." Sol slapped him on the back as they walked out of the rest room together.

Immediately four voices called out to Sol:

"All set here, Sol." "Her makeup is done, Mr. Green." "Could we please get this show on the road?" "Should I lube up now?"

In no particular order, he answered each question, and he addressed his comments to a spot ten feet in front of him as he walked. "OK, we should be rocking soon. I trust we have a light check already, we'll add sound in at the studio. Get this beautiful stud some makeup, but fast, just a little powder for glare."

The only person he addressed directly was Linda Lynn, "Linda, honey, do whatever you need to do to get ready for work, but we should only need mish, doggy, maybe cowgirl. No anal, but like I said, we'll probably end in a facial. OK? You look gorgeous, honey, you look great."

Sol took a look through the tripod-mounted camera and adjusted the focus on the mattress. He looked back and saw Nikola sitting in a chair. The make-up artist was dusting his face with powder.

"No, no, no!" Sol called out. When he had their attention he called again, "The camera won't be looking there, doll. Powder his ass so we don't get glare, and maybe a little of the abs and thighs. Don't dust his cock, though, or Linda will be choking on your makeup in about seven minutes."

Nikola stood and removed his shirt. Everyone's attention was fixed on him, as he made the first steps towards his petition. Although fit, his physique was not especially arresting. He removed his pants, leaving him in black socks and a wristwatch. He turned around and leaned over onto the chair. Stanton thought his ass was cute; Arnheim would have admitted as much, but in her opinion, that was not enough for a visa.

Nikola turned back around, and his limp dick did not present itself as particularly special. Even with his pubic hair shaved to a thin layer of fuzz on his lower abdomen, a common technique to produce an optical illusion of added length, Nikola looked average in endowment.

Linda announced to all that she was ready, and broke the spell of Nikola's undressing as people took note of her appearance. Whether or not she had lubricated herself was known only to her (and soon, Nikola Kinescu), but she had changed her attire. Combined with the fine hair-styling, makeup, and bright studio lighting, it gave Linda Lynn a tangible air of erotic glamour.

Her hair was done in a wet style: the tresses fell down in slick bunches that parted around her eyes, then curved back into her cheeks. The color had changed from a light chestnut to a darker hue. A reflective coating covered her red painted lips, a shade and luminescence that matched the shiny red of her short rubber dress. Red, patent leather high-heeled shoes completed the outfit.

The dress barely reached the tops of her thighs, and fit tightly to her body. Unlike thinner skin-tight materials which simply gave way to the body's curves, and revealed slight imperfections, the rubber was thick enough to retain its own smooth surface. It looked as if Linda's upper body had been cast by a mold.

As unremarkable and anti-climactic as Nikola's undressing was, Linda's appearance was striking and captivating. Even Sol Green was taken aback, but he kept his thoughts on the business and made a note to himself that he might want to use Linda in the future. That same professional attitude also helped him get everyone back to work.

"OK, let's get Nick over here while he's already naked, we'll do the undressing shots later."

"He's already got his shirt back on, Sol," called the cameraman.

"Ah, shit. OK, make sure his makeup stays put, use that spray or whatever if you haven't already. Let's get some stills for possible box cover shots."

Good producer that he was, Sol took advantage of the time. He had Linda bend over, smile, wink, flash a little of her ass, squeeze her breasts together (as much as the dress let her do so), suck a finger, and perform any number of permutations of these actions. All the while, the shutters snapped, and the film rolled. He had her slip off her black cotton thong and masturbate a while for the lenses before putting the underwear back on again.

When Nikola was finally ready, Sol directed what was part porn flick, and part visa application. They smiled at each other, they hugged. They kissed. "More tongue," Sol barked, "More tongue." Linda unbuttoned Nikola's shirt and kissed his chest, this time sure to swath her tongue generously around his nipples.

Nikola almost looked out of place in a simple cotton shirt and slacks next to the glossy magazine print that was Linda Lynn. After she removed his clothes, the two looked strangely more appropriate. Linda unfastened his pants, and as his quasi-erect cock flopped over the waist band of his shorts, the observers had their first hint of Nikola's talents. Linda took his cock in her mouth while Nikola's pants were still around his knees. She pulled her mouth over it to the end, opened wide, brought her head forward and closed her lips again. The cock vanished partially then re-appeared, all while Linda's dark wet tresses swung across her face. Within a few short cycles Nikola was stiff as a board.

"That's my boy!" said Sol, "Now keep sucking, Linda. That's it."

"That's it?" remarked Arnheim, "I though he'd be bigger than that."

"It's not that," whispered Maytag, "Sol's happy because Nikola got an erection that fast."

"Well, look at her," Arnheim giggled as she pointed at Linda. "She looks like a complete sexpot. I bet you're hard now, and she's not even touching you."

This time Stanton answered. "Agent Maytag doesn't have lights pointed at him, cameras trained on him from two different angles, five people watching him, and a director barking orders at him." Stanton felt no need to back Sol Green's cause; she just liked silencing Arnheim.

"OK, now, Linda, take his balls in your mouth, and stroke him with your fist."

Linda did as instructed. Nikola looked interested, but strangely detached - as if he was watching Linda suck someone else off rather than him.

Linda bent over and her ass slipped out easily from under the red rubber dress. Nikola licked and fondled her cheeks. He pushed the black thong aside and pushed his tongue inside her. He slid a finger inside and out, and alternated it with his mouth.

Linda followed orders, bending over and spreading her legs to give Nikola and the camera more room to work. When Sol asked her to, she removed her panties. Thumbs hooked in and turned out, she pulled them down slowly, a kind gesture for the home audience.

"Nick, lay down," Sol ordered. "Let's go cowgirl."

Linda kneeled over Nikola, took his solid cock in her hand, and squatted over it. It easily slid between her well-lubricated lips, and Linda fully engulfed him. She let out a long slow breath and started to bounce on his prick.

The tripod-mounted camera focused on her face. Sol asked her to bite her knuckle or suck Nikola's fingers. The second camera was practically on the floor, focused on the wet cunt bobbing up and down on the Kinescu pride and joy.

After a while, Linda stopped rocking and let Nikola thrust up at her. His balls slapped up against her ass, and her lips seemed to pull back at him every time he sank back against the bed for another stroke.

"Let's switch to doggy style," Sol called as he pulled his head away from the camera and rubbed his eyes for a moment.

Nikola scooted out from under Linda, who in turn, moved her legs wider apart, lifted her ass into the air, and rested her shoulder on the mattress. She reached back with one hand, rubbed her clit, and then spread her lips for Nikola.

He dove in and slammed away at her ass, further pushing her head against the mattress. Linda smiled, though, and let out an appreciative moan or three. Nikola fucked with considerable strength, and even Linda's small breasts would have been oscillating wildly if not for the tight rubber dress that held them close to her body.

"You ready to go, champ?" asked Sol.

Nikola only grunted in reply.

"Go ahead, but not too much. And then we take a nice break."

As Arnheim wondered exactly what the hell that meant, Nikola pulled out of Linda's pussy and twice sprayed the back of her dress with a watery, cloudy shower. Linda propped herself up, lowering her ass in the process. She reached behind her back and stroked Nikola's cock.

"Cut," called Sol, "get them towels and water, but leave the lights on. Nikola, do you need anything special?"

Nikola shook his head no. "Strong like bull, boss."

"Excellent, but I think I could use a drink. Is there a soda machine around here?"

Sol Green was out of the room before Arnheim could mount a proper protest. She turned to Maytag and Stanton instead.

"That's it? That was nothing special!"

"They left the lights on, didn't they?" asked Stanton, laughing.

"Even if they didn't, I think he performed well," said the cameraman. "Wood right away, came on cue, and all with his visa on the line. That's grace under pressure if you ask me."

"I don't recall asking you," said Arnheim.

Maytag looked around the room. The makeup artist was touching up Linda's lip gloss while the gaffer dried the cum from her dress. It seemed to Maytag the gaffer was more interested in Linda's ass than his work, but eventually he got to dry that, too.

Nikola drank from a bottle of mineral water, and Stanton walked over to him. "Do you speak fluent English?" she asked.

"Enough for this," he responded with an easy smile.

"How about an apartment, a home? Has one been arranged?"

"I live with Sol. We look for home." Nikola mumbled while he looked for a word. "We look later."

He seemed completely unfazed by being naked in front of her. Between answering Stanton's questions, he simply toweled himself and drank his water. Satisfied, Stanton returned and wrote some notes in a tablet she produced from her bag. Arnheim looked at her and said, "Did you get his phone number?"

"No, but I asked him some questions about how he would manage in the States," Stanton said flatly.

"So you want to do my job, now?"

"Well, one of us has to do it," Stanton retorted.

"Listen, missy, just because you have a pistol in that bag as well as your lipstick--"

"Alright, let's stop right there," said Maytag. "I assume that the tension here is due to the embarrassing nature of the assignment. Fair enough. But let's do our job, as professionals, and treat this matter with the same detached lack of interest and enthusiasm we civil servants should show every job." Stanton and Arnheim laughed. Maytag continued. "Let's sit down, have some water, and relax for part two of the program."

By this time, Sol Green had returned, and Linda wanted a word with him. "I'm pouring sweat in this thing, " she said, indicating the dress. "Can't I take it off now?"

"I'm sorry, doll, of course you can. But do you have anything else you can wear?"

Linda said yes, and produced a pair of shiny thigh-high boots the same color as the dress.

After Linda changed, Stanton though to herself that it looked as if the rubber had melted from her back, and dried along her legs like candle drippings. In contrast to the smooth continuous appearance of the dress, the boots seemed to be wrinkled and uneven. She still looked like something from a magazine, albeit something from behind the rack that was normally wrapped in opaque plastic.

With a towel, she dried the sweat that had formed under the heavy dress. Her nipples remained hard, and the thin strip of light brown pubic hair belied the true color of the wet-look hair atop her head.

Sol nodded in approval at his starlet, then told Nikola to get ready. "I believe it's been about twenty five minutes," said Sol, halfway between a declarative and an interrogative sentence.

"More or less," said Maytag after checking his watch.

Nikola stood in front of Linda, who kneeled on the mattress. She took his cock in her hand, stroked it, licked and sucked it. It took longer than before, but he was soon hard again, and Sol sang his praises with the enthusiasm of a preacher at the pulpit.

On the director's orders, Linda laid out on her back, and pulled her knees to her chest. Again, Nikola licked enthusiastically at her pussy, until Sol gave him the instruction to penetrate her with his cock. Nikola mounted her, held the back of her knees for her and plunged away. With her boots resting on his shoulders, again and again he fell onto and into her. He positioned his upper body over hers so that his cock slid against her clitoris. They both seemed to enjoy the position, but it was short-lived. Bad for the camera, Sol explained.

The couple then performed a sixty nine with Linda on top, which she seemed to highly enjoy. Maytag thought she came at one point, and a quick glance at Sol, who gave him a thumbs-up, showed that he had the same suspicion.

Shortly after that, Linda pulled her mouth away from Nikola's member, squeezed it in her hand, and said, "I want you to come on my face."

Sol laughed and clapped his hands. "You heard the lady, Nick, let it fly."

Linda stroked Nikola's cock with a tight grip, sucking on the head when her fist would allow it. Within a few seconds, Nick let out a guttural moan, and thick ropes of cum rose briefly into the air before returning onto Linda's cheek with a splash. She had tried to stick out her tongue and catch the cream, but her timing was off, and when her tongue was out, the jism was at its highest point.

Linda was somewhat nonplused, but Sol was pleased, and knew it would look great on film. Meanwhile, after his first echoing grunt, Nikola had buried his face between Linda's cheeks, licking her ass and darting inside with his tongue. He broke briefly from Linda's ass to instruct her. "Suck it," he said in his heavy accent.

Sol took up the cause. "Keep sucking, Linda, you look gorgeous, baby. You're fantastic, sweetheart. Keep sucking."

She did as asked. Some fluid had separated from the cum on her cheek and upper lip and was running down her neck and throat. But she returned to sucking his cock, and it was soon clear that she had preserved Nikola's erection.

"Oh, my," said Arnheim.

"Indeed," added Stanton. She was surprised to learn that they agreed on something.

"Oh, fuck me some more," called Linda. She lifted her leg to let Nikola out from under her, and she stayed on all fours. Linda raised an arm to clear the cum from her face, but Sol told her to leave it just the way it was.

Linda was soon beyond orders. Nikola had lifted one thigh up to give the camera full view of her mound as he reamed it from behind. Linda reached back and rubbed her clitoris as he pounded away.

The steady thumping and Linda's holding her head down had caused the cum to edge forward onto her chin. A thick drop just barely hung there. With his camera, Sol could capture in one profile shot her exposed cunt and the penetrating cock, her swaying breasts, the slicked hair, the glossy lips, and the jism attached delicately to her chin. That scene alone was magnificent, and to Sol it was worth Kinescu's ticket and all the other expenses, even if the visa fell through.

When Nikola finally pulled out and came in a short burst on her ass, the result was almost a relief for all involved. It was the last few dips in a roller coaster that had long since raised the pulse and taken the breath away.

Linda and Nikola collapsed, performers who had more than earned their pay. The cameraman and gaffer took down their equipment in almost reverential silence. Finally, Linda stood up, and Sol Green helped her clean off, gave her a kiss on the forehead and thanked her for a job well done. Nikola dressed slowly.

The gaffer swore he was moving to California, and Sol Green gave him his business card. The makeup woman offered her services if Mr. Green was planning on doing any more shooting in town.

"As a make-up artist, of course," she added.

"Of course," said Sol Green politely.

All that remained was to hear Arnheim's verdict. Stanton and Maytag waited to see what she would say, but she stayed silent. When she could write without shaking, Arnheim filled in the requisite forms, and granted Nikola Kinescu his visa.

End