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Message-ID: <48942asstr$1093263006@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: rache696@yahoo.com (Rache)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 23 Aug 2004 01:52:15 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Selling The Drama (F/M+ strange)
Lines: 421
Date: Mon, 23 Aug 2004 08:10:06 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Story Codes: F/M+

Copyright 2004 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. This story may be
posted/archived to FREE adult access provided my name, email
rache696@yahoo.com and this notice are included in the message text.

Author's note: I could not think of a story code that would accurtely
describe what this story is about. It contains explicit oral and
intercourse between consenting adults in an adult bookstore. There is
also a very brief WS scene near the end. Hopefully this helps.

=-=-=


Selling the Drama
Fiction by Rache

I'd taken a job with Paramount's script department, selling the drama.
It was mundane, secretarial at the core and offered little in the way
of challenge or job satisfaction. But I needed work and like Elmore
said, what's the point of living in LA if you ain't in the movie
business?

I was shopping a screenplay called `Dying To Meet You' in my free
time, and trying to write another one. But it was tough going. I was
living in a little flat just off Sunset, behind a massage parlor, with
a liquor store on one side, and an adult bookstore on the other. I was
upstairs, below me lived a couple prostitutes, Miranda and Crystal. It
wasn't great for my creativity, at least as I envisioned it.

Dying was a romantic comedy, about a guy who fakes having cancer so
the Make A Wish people will get him a date with a beautiful actress.
Along the way he meets a boy who really is dying, but teaches the guy
about living. Of course he meets a girl too, the one who is trying to
get his wish fulfilled, even though she thinks he could do better for
himself...By the end of the movie the guy realizes how shallow he is,
how much he loves the ordinary girl, and how if he really did have a
single last wish, it wouldn't be to meet some phony actress. You get
the idea.

My current project was along similar lines, tentatively called `Keep
the Change' about a rather ordinary teenage girl who finds a lamp in
the back of a taxi while visiting New York. Of course, there is a
genie in the bottle and she gets just one wish. The girl suddenly
becomes as beautiful as she always wanted to be, but that it will only
last for one year, unless she can return the genie and his bottle to
their rightful owner...It is the old metaphoric journey from adolescence
to adulthood and along the way she meets and learns from various
people. It's cute, nothing too heavy.

Unfortunately, my surroundings did not conspire to help me write cute
things. I found myself staring out my window more and more, leaving it
open despite the heat, just so I could watch the people below me. I'd
sit in a plain white tank-top that was too big, a reminder of my old
boyfriend, and a pair of cut-off shorts, sweating and ignoring my
laptop while I sipped iced tea, or kool-aid, or a beer once in awhile.

My apartment was sparse, at best. Mostly I decorated it with pictures
ripped from old magazines. One whole wall was a collage, and to me it
was genuine piece of art, my inspiration, my conscience, my personal
wailing wall. It had pictures from everything, National Geographic,
Cosmopolitan, Life, Time, Playboy, Seventeen, newspapers, brochures,
it didn't matter. I had a picture of Goebbles next to a picture of the
Pope, his face superimposed on the vagina I'd torn from an old Hustler
I'd found. I had landscapes, animals, sunsets, flowers, death, life,
birth, abortion, portraits, landscapes, advertisements, paintings...But
no words, not a single one. That was my job.

I was just 22 then, single white female, seeking...something. I had a
telephone, but no television. I had a little single burner stove and a
mini-fridge. I had a little MD player and a goldfish bowl, and books.
Thousands of them. I slept and ate and danced on my futon, and my only
chair was a throwaway from the salvation army, a folding metal thing,
painted grey. I felt like a monk and I had to get out.

Down on the street there was life, at least. Or the semblance of it.
Vampires and night crawlers, stalking something to fill the holes
inside. There were the homeless and the prostitutes and the addicts
and the dealers. The valley boys cruising the boulevard in their dad's
car, looking for a cheap thrill. Cops ignoring everything.

I'd changed my clothes, putting on a pair of white denim jeans, some
pink snake-skin boots, and a pink halter. I had my long black hair
pulled back, some pink lipstick, but no other makeup. No jewelry but
the rings in my nipples, perched on my petite breasts and hidden as
two vague lumps beneath my clothes. I liked walking around at night, I
liked the thrill of being on the edge of something just out of sight.
The great unmentionable.

I went in the liquor store, run by a Vietnamese guy named Ho, like Ho
Chi Minh, but without the bad attitude. He had a picture of himself
during the war, young and dead, lifeless eyes he had, standing with a
couple Americans, just staring at the camera. I wished I had that
picture on my wall. I bought a peach wine cooler, counting out my
change, and I opened it as I walked back out onto the street.

I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I wanted to do. I decided to
stop in the adult bookstore, that was always a bit of a thrill. It was
a seedy place, not one of the new bright couple friendly places that
had sprung up lately, this was a throwback to when such places were
the very pits of depravity that any decent community shunned. I liked
it because the only people in there were guys, sick sex addicted men
with nothing good in their lives. They loved women, passionately,
romantically, the dreamt of us, and we rejected them utterly. They
hated us, they hated me. I could feel it. They hated the way I
intruded on their fantasies, walking into that place, seeing them
looking and wanting and never having. What a betrayal.

I'd saved half my cooler and I put it on the counter for Rolf, who was
German, but he talked like anyone else from LA, without any accent at
all. "I didn't have enough for two." I shrugged apologetically as he
drank it.

"Thanks. How ya doin?" he lit a cigarette and handed it to me. He
smoked French cigarettes, he said they cost him a fortune, but they
were good. They had cloves in them, just a little, so that the smoke
was heady.

"I'm bored." I looked around. "Got anything I can take for a test
drive?" I was referring to the unusually large assortment of dildos,
vibrators, and sundry personal appliances on display.

"Heh." It was an old joke between us. The first words I'd ever spoken
to him, before I'd spent 30 bucks on a dildo that I'd desperately
needed at the time. "How's the writing?"

"It sucks, how's the biz?" Rolf had never pretended to be anything but
a pornographer, you had to respect that kind of honesty. It also meant
he knew everybody. The bookstore was just a front, I'd seen his real
stuff before.

"You looking?" He puffed his cigarette the continental way, holding it
almost delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

"Not yet, why? You got something?"

"Some guys in the valley, looking for fresh faces, you know. It's a
hard six hundred if your interested."

"When?" An easy six was pure ice cream, nothing to it. Guy meats girl.
A hard six was something else, anything from BDSM to Piss to Dogs. It
wasn't always pleasant, but it was only an hour long, or less, which
meant only 3 hours of shooting, which meant only 6 hours of working.
Six was the magic number for me.

"Anytime. Saturday?"

"Sure, yeah." I needed the money. "No dogs right?"

Rolf laughed, but he'd set me up once with a guy doing a horse flick.
"No, just straight up stuff. Vanilla...like you." He grinned.

"Yeah, right, okay...Who's gonna insure me?"

"I can do it, don't sweat okay? I'll talk to them. Come by Friday I'll
have something." Rolf would be my guy, just so somebody knew where I
was.

Some old man was looking at me, over a rack of European porn, trying
to be sly about it and I waved my fingers at him, so he turned around
quickly. "Got any tokens laying around?"

"Take 13, I fixed the lock." Rolf handed me a dozen silvery tokens for
the video booths. He knew I was hooking, but it wasn't a problem, I'd
take care of him at the end of the night. It was better than hanging
out on the street and Rolf didn't mind.

"Thanks Rolf." I smiled and walked through the dark doorway, seeing
maybe 7 or 8 guys, shadows lurking in the darkness. I went to the
booth with a big 13 on the door and went inside, not bothering to lock
the door, or even close it all the way. I dropped a token in the
lighted slot, just to get some light really, such booths tended to be
messy especially this late at night.

The screen came alive with some blonde getting it from 3 black guys
all at once. The chair was clean at least, although the floor didn't
look too good, and the screen itself had a rather tacky stain in the
lower left hand corner. There was a glory hole on either side of me,
almost, but not quite directly opposite and at shoulder height as I
sat there. I put out the French cigarette on the floor about the time
I heard the door squeak just a bit, I looked over my shoulder and saw
a middle aged guy in a rumpled suit, completely ordinary, looking at
me through the narrow crack.

He disappeared, probably because he was gay I thought, and that didn't
bother me. In fact nothing about this bothered me in the least, quite
the contrary I found it exciting. Not just being in the most degrading
surrounding imaginable, but being with strangers, men whom I would
never know. Who could be carrying anything from infections to knives
to religious tracts. I loved not knowing. Of taking a risk without
limits, without definition. It was the ultimate experience to me,
emotionally, to be so far out of control that I wasn't even on the
pill. Give me a baby, give me aids, give me a hit of the white lady,
or just hit me, rape me, kill me...I want to be a victim.

I was soaked already, it happens for me just that quick. I'd left home
when I was 13 the first time, got caught 5 weeks later and did it
again was I was 14, I didn't fuck up after that. I was enjoying it too
much to go back. Enjoying things like this. My heart was beating and I
had little butterflies in my stomach, being in that booth, stinking of
semen and sweat, watching the people on that TV screen, as if they
were things. I felt like a thing, I was so dead inside all the time,
only now, alone with the monsters did I feel alive.

I heard someone entering the booth next to me, to my right, the soft
metal chunking of tokens being dropped. I pulled my top up, above my
breasts, folding it under so it stayed in place, and I leaned back,
rubbing my hard brown nipples. I pulled my rings, twisting them and
wondering if the guy was watching. I resisted the urge to peek myself,
Instead I just waited until a few minutes later I saw the man's penis
pushing through the fist sized hole. It was chubby and not too long,
swollen with his excitement and I reached for it, stroking it slowly,
rubbing my thumb over the head.

"Suck it." The voice was low and husky.

I leaned forward, blowing across it. "Twenty." I whispered back, just
barely grazing the tip with my tongue.

"You're a girl?" The voice came back. I told him I was. "Show me."

I stood up, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them down and then fully
off, stepping in and out of my shoes one at a time, then folding them
over the back of the chair. I pulled my panties to the side as the
cock disappeared and I could just make out the light reflected from a
pair of eyes. I turned, showing him my pussy, spreading my lips and
fingering my wet slit.

"How much?" He was staring.

"Fifty."

The penis reappeared a moment later with a twenty dollar bill next to
it. "Just suck it." I squatted down and took him in my mouth then,
giving this unseen stranger a slow stroke and smoke, fisting the base
of his thick shaft while I sucked a few inches between my lips. It
wouldn't take him long, staring at his own video screen while someone
was giving him head. Even if he'd already cum once, or even twice
already tonight, they never lasted long when they felt the real deal.

I was just starting to get into it when I felt him getting close.
"Deeper...ah fuck!" I heard him groaning and thrusting his cock so it
banged the back of my mouth and almost made me gag, but I was halfway
expecting it. His sperm flooded my mouth, thin and watery, and I
swallowed it eagerly, feeling it sliding down my throat. I kept my
mouth on him until he was spent and let him pull away. "Show me." He
breathed. And I opened my mouth, letting him see the remnants of his
orgasm pooled on my tongue and I swallowed that noisily, letting him
get his money's worth.

He pulled out and I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, looking
over my shoulder at a muffled sound and seeing another cock pressing
through the hole on the other wall. I turned and put my mouth over the
head, giving it a quick lick.

"I wanna fuck." The guy was saying.

"Fifty." I told him, sitting back on my heels and rubbing my breasts.

"Forty, come on." His cock was large and dark, dripping precum.

I shook my head. "Fifty bareback, take it or leave it."

He tossed a crumpled up twenty and two tens through the hole. "That's
all I got."

"I'll blow you." I pushed the tens back at him and put my mouth on his
cock, wriggling my tongue underneath the swollen head.

"Throat me." He was shoving with his hips and I let my throat open for
him, his prick catching my swallow and pushing all the way inside
until my face was pressed to the cool sheetrock of the wall.

Someone opened the door behind me, stepping inside and I heard it
lock. I had the guy's cock in my throat still, my muscles working
against it as if I could swallow that thick throbbing warmth all the
way down to my stomach. I felt a giddy rush of excitement as I had no
idea who was in that small room with me, watching as I gave some
anonymous guy head. I felt his hands on my hips, lifting me so I
stood, bent over at the waist, sucking loudly. I pulled my mouth away
long enough to let saliva and precum run from my panting lips,
dripping across the hardness in my hand and down onto the floor.

"You wanna fuck?" I breathed, looking over my shoulder and seeing a
thin middle aged guy with glasses. "Fifty and you do what you want."

"Okay." He was massaging my cunt through my panties, pushing my legs
wider. "Keep sucking, I like to watch."

I went back to giving the guy next door head, deep throating him a few
times and then sucking just the head for a moment, then doing it all
over again while my hands rubbed the wetness we were making all around
his hot penis. The man behind my pulled my panties to the side, and I
felt his cockhead pushing inside me hard, without any pretense at
patience or concern. He wasn't overly large, but it felt good, being
invaded by that strange prick and I gave a little moan around the cock
in my mouth.

It wasn't long before the cock in my face erupted, ejaculating in my
mouth. "On your face!" The guy urged and I pulled his cock free of my
lips so his last few spurts painted my cheeks and nose and chin. I
rubbed it all around my face, feeling the warm stickiness of it
clinging to my features. The guy pulled his cock back through the hole
whispering thanks and then he was gone.

The man behind me was fucking me hard, ramming himself into me so that
I had to brace myself against the wall with my palms, licking my lips
and tasting the sperm slowly drying on my face. It felt good and I was
squeezing him with my vaginal walls, contracting my muscles slightly,
just enough so that he could feel it and within 4 minutes of starting,
the man finished, blowing his sperm deep inside me. He held himself
there, making soft noises and digging his fingers into my hips.

He pulled out and I stood up slowly, stretching my back a little. "Pay
me." I told the guy, feeling his seed leaking out from my slightly
distended labia. I pulled my panties back into place.

The guy laughed at me. "Fuck you." And he started opening the door. I
grabbed at him and he pushed my face with his hand, shrugging off the
loose grip I had on his t-shirt. "Thanks for the fuck, bitch."

I let him go, even though it pissed me off. I deserved it, I thought a
little bitterly, always get the money first. It was a rule I knew and
usually lived by, but sometimes...I just wanted to forget, just to see
what would happen.

I sucked off three more guys over the next 30 or 40 minutes, by now
the word was out that there was a whore in lucky 13 who was charging
twenty for a blowjob. The downside of working the guys in a bookstore
was that they didn't want to spend anything, so getting fucked was
usually a pretty rare thing, unless I gave it away, as I had earlier.

I was wishing I had another wine cooler, or some gum, or even some
water just to rinse my mouth when a pair of cocks pressed together
through the glory hole to my left. They must have been good friends, I
thought with a little smile.

"Get us off." One voice said and the other echoed. "Yeah girl, open
up." I could see one guys hand, stroking them both together, a couple
queers wanting it at the same time.

"Show some dough." I told them. "Twenty each."

"Aww come on, 20 girl, just suck em at the same time." One guy said
and the other giggled.

"No way, you want it you gotta pay." I tickled them with my finger
nails.

"Twenty five, please?" The giggling guy sounded young.

"I'll do you both for thirty, but when one of you cums, it's over for
both of you." That seemed like a funny way of dealing with it, but
they agreed and pushed their money through. I picked up the bills and
put them on the chair with the rest of my money. The floor was getting
pretty messy now with spit and jism, but I was kneeling in it now too,
heedless of the wetness spreading across my legs when I moved.

I left the booth an hour later with a couple hundred bucks in dirty
wrinkled money stuffed in my purse. I went to the bathroom to clean
up. There was only one and it had no lock on the door. There was a
stall, also without a door, and two urinals, and a sink. It wasn't
pristine, but the plumbing worked.

One look in the mirror was enough to make me shake my head. I was a
mess and I turned on the faucet, washing my hands all the way up to my
elbows in the cold water. Some guy came in, staring at me as he walked
to one of the urinals. I watched him in the mirror until I started
washing my face and neck. He left without a word and I was alone for a
few minutes. I pulled my halter down, beneath my tits and washed them
as well. Another guy came in and grinned at me as I rubbed my tits.

"You like bathroom?" He asked me and I looked at his reflection in the
mirror.

"Fifty."

"Come here then." He was younger, only 30 or so and not bad looking,
even though he dressed like a punk, in jeans and a tank top. I walked
over, grabbing my purse off the sink, my breasts still hanging out,
pushed up over my top. "Get down here."

He pushed me down so I knelt between the two urinals with my back to
the wall. I hung my purse on one of the flushing handles and looked up
at him as he pulled his flaccid penis free. "Open up." He smiled and
pushed his cock into my mouth. I sucked briefly and started swallowing
quickly as he began pissing. It was bitter and hot and salty and it
overflowed, running down my chin and neck and tits. He pissed for a
few minutes like that and left his cock between my lips afterward so I
could clean him.

"You wanna go to a party?" He asked me, zipping up. He reached for his
wallet, a big leather thing chained to his jeans and pulled out a
fifty dollar bill.

"Nah. I gotta work tomorrow." I shook my head, looking at a couple
guys in the doorway and feeling my stomach churn a little as it tried
to deal with all the sperm and now piss I'd swallowed.

I cleaned myself up again, ignoring some invitations for an encore and
walked out of the arcade feeling the eyes. The guys stayed in the
shadows, hiding as I left. It was the way of it and I think I could
understand, almost. I gave Rolf a hundred and a smile. He gave me
another cigarette and I leaned against the counter smoking it with
real pleasure.

"How come you never tried to fuck me, Rolf?" The thought just occurred
to me.

He shrugged. "I'm HIV positive." He was stacking videos. "You know
that."

"So?" I knew he wasn't sick, not really. He just carried the
anti-bodies, but it could happen any day. Rolf was just waiting.

"So..." He looked at me. "I don't know. Guess I lost the urge for it, ya
know? And now..." Rolf's voice filled with irony and he grinned,
gesturing around us. "...now I'm just selling the drama."

end
rache696@yahoo.com

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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