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Message-ID: <57547asstr$1208776201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Shubie Sam <shubiesam@claneros.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Success in Television (MF cons oral piv)
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Date: Mon, 21 Apr 2008 07:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Greetings, Earthlings. This is the first of a planned set of stories 
about finding erotic things in unexpected places. In this story, a 
novice TV sound technician learns an interesting secret about his job. 
That secret is true, by the way, at least for some people in the business.

Feedback is always welcome. This is a real email address.

1. Crew Call

The rotund, smiling man stood up and addressed the group in an 
unexpected Irish accent.

"Okay everyone, if I could just have your attention. For anyone who 
hasn't worked with me before, I'm Steve Thomas, and I'll be your 
director this evening. Over here is Amanda, our staff producer. Doug 
here is technical director. Sam is our engineer. And Phil over there is 
in charge of audio for tonight, with Mark and Jake who you guys probably 
all know. And the young man with him is Peter Kerr, he's here for work 
experience from his high school, and I suggest that you be nice to him, 
because I've had a chat with him and he's pretty smart; he'll probably 
be standing here doing my job in a year or two."

Peter blushed as the entire crew turned to look at him. He felt very 
young, at eighteen, though a few of the production assistants were 
surely only a year or two older than him. Peter knew what he was doing, 
at least in theory, and was fitter and stronger than many of them, but 
the crew had an air of confidence and no-nonsense ability about them 
that was slightly intimidating.

"Cameras one through five are already set up at the stage. That's studio 
A. Guys, you know what you're doing. Six and seven will cover the 
anchors out here in studio B. Bill's on six and seven is locked off. 
That'll be set up, and the lights, when we're done here. The foundation 
is managing the volunteers on the phones; we don't have to worry about 
any of that. We'll have the phone number up throughout on the Inscriber."

Peter listened vaguely as the director went through various points about 
the play they were televising that night, a fundraiser for a national 
charity. There were so many different things to remember. Luckily he 
didn't have to worry about them all; he just had to do whatever 
cable-running and mic-adjusting Phil, the terrifyingly proficient audio 
chief, needed help with.

"So a word about the actors; we're not working with professionals here, 
but we do need to turn in a professional television event. These are 
skilled amateurs. Most of them haven't been on live television before. 
But they have professional wardrobe. They have professional makeup. 
They've hired a professional lighting crew, who we've been working with, 
and they're excellent. Some of these people want careers in the theatre. 
This is their chance to shine on national television. You can bet 
they're taking this very seriously indeed. We owe it to them to do not 
just a good job, but the best possible job. That means you. Every single 
member of this crew. Every job is important. Let's cut no corners. Let's 
do it right. Thanks. We have two hours. Let's make it happen."

There was a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation as the twenty 
or so crew members streamed off in separate directions. Peter followed 
Phil and the other audio assistants, Jake and Mark, to the production truck.

"So, guys," Phil grinned. "Costume drama. You know what that means."

"Concealed microphones?" asked Jake.

"You got it," Phil replied, as Jake and Mark high-fived each other, "but 
don't get too excited. The female principles have mics and transmitters 
sewn into their costumes. I got fresh batteries put in this morning 
while the costumes were in wardrobe. We just have to make sure they 
still work when they're put on. There are a couple guys who need miked 
up though - here's the list. Just tape them to their chests. I know how 
much you two enjoy playing with hairy chests, since you don't have any 
body hair of your own yet."

Mark smiled and flipped him the bird.

"So you guys get on with that. Peter, grab this headset. I want you to 
go out to the stage and we'll get some levels on the omnis out there. 
Let's get going, time is short here."


2. Talent Spotting

Peter felt rather proud of himself as he walked around the building and 
through the corridors to the main theatre auditorium. As he strode 
through groups of musicians, stagehands, volunteers, and various 
hangers-on, he noticed them taking in his "TV CREW" badge and headset, 
and respectfully making way for him. This was a feeling he could get 
used to.

Inside the auditorium was a scene of chaos as last-minute preparations 
were made by the theatrical crew. Backdrops were being raised and 
lowered; prop positions checked; last minute line changes being 
reviewed; and the chorus was rehearsing one of their songs. Some members 
of the invited audience had already arrived and were taking their seats.

Peter pressed his "talk" button. "Phil, this is Peter, I'm there".

The headset crackled, "Okay kid, just hang loose for a second, I'm 
working on a little problem here."

Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall, watching as a small group of 
actors took the stage in full costume, scripts in hand, apparently 
having decided to rehearse something just one last time. The flowing 
dresses of the female players certainly did nothing to hide the curves 
of their bodies, and Peter found himself admiring the shapely behind of 
one particular actress at some length.

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz in his ear. "Peter, I need you 
to check the number six omni. Not getting anything from it."

Peter walked up to the stage and swung his body onto it. He made for the 
offending mic, and checked the connection. "Looks good Phil, it's 
plugged in OK", he radioed.

"Okay, can you go ahead and replace the mic and the cable to the snake, 
we don't have time to muck around."

As Peter worked he glanced up at the group of actors still rehearsing in 
front of him. The girl he'd been checking out from behind was just as 
shapely from the front. She was engrossed in her script, paying no 
attention to the other activity going on around her. Peter let his eye 
linger on her exposed cleavage, then up to her face - where he realized 
with a start that he knew this girl.

Connie Clark. Could it really be? The girl from his chemistry class last 
year. The one he had lusted after from their first meeting. The one who 
was so intelligent and funny, and so effortlessly sexy. The one, when 
they were preparing experiments, who he was mentally undressing and 
imagining naked; wondering what it would be like to feel her body; to 
suck on her nipples. The one who gave him such strange looks, as if she 
knew the dirty secrets in his head. But the one who had never given him 
any encouragement.

Nearly as tall as him, curvy without being fat, with dark hair, fair 
skin, and green eyes, Connie had featured in the starring role in many 
of his wet dreams. Even confined in a school uniform, her body was 
provocative and distracting, with pert breasts whose shape could not be 
hidden by a uniform blouse.

He had never known that she was an amateur actress; but yet here she 
was, standing here in front of him in a dress which made her even more 
sexually desirable than he remembered; she appeared as a radiant example 
of pure, virginal Victorian womanhood, brimming with suppressed 
sexuality. Peter felt a stirring in his groin as he watched the exposed 
tops of her breasts rising and falling with her breath.

"Peter, is that mic back?"

Peter was shocked back into reality. "Yeah Phil, try it now," he 
replied. At the sound of his voice, all of the actors turned to glance 
at him - and Connie recognized him with a smile. He nodded at her, as 
Phil's voice in his headset gave him another task.


3. The Show Must Go On

"Thirty minutes to air, everyone" came the producers voice over the 
speaker. Peter was with Phil in the audio booth of the truck, watching 
as the older man carried out his final microphone checks.

"Okay, get Edward to give me a test, Jake," he ordered.

"This is James Dobson and I'm playing Edward, testing one two three, one 
two..."

"...that's great, next one please Jake, Emily," Phil interrupted.

"....onn..car...mly...n...oo..ree..."

"Something's wrong there Jake, get her to check the connection to the 
transmitter."

"Uh, Phil, this is Jake, it's connected fine."

"Okay Jake, get her to go to the red room, I'll send Mark to change her 
out. Mark?"

There was no response but silence.

"Hey Mark?"

Nothing.

"Okay kid, looks like he's out of radio range, and that means I've got a 
job for you. Go find this person who's playing Emily", Phil squinted at 
his cast list, "Connie Clark is her name." You need to fit this lav mic. 
You know how to do that, right?"

"Sure, I know how to put it on and check it's working," Peter responded, 
"but where does it go?"

Phil looked at him, puzzled. "It has to be hidden, and it has to be in 
the right place to pick up her voice. This is the job Mark and Jake were 
hoping for earlier. You need to clip this on her bra, kid. It's just 
part of the job; most of these actresses have done it a thousand times. 
Just be confident and professional. But here's the thing, you need to be 
confident, professional, and really quick, because we're on air in like 
twenty minutes." Phil turned back to his console. "Okay Jake, next is 
Darcy. Let's give him a test..."

Peter gaped. Was he really going to see Connie stripped to her bra? He 
reddened.

Phil turned to him, suprised that he was still there. His expression 
softened. "Hey Peter, it's not a big deal. Trust me, this is probably 
some dried-up sixty year old. She'll understand why you're there and she 
won't bite. You have your tool kit? Good to go? Okay?"

"Okay, I guess," replied Peter, who knew that it was definitely not a 
'dried-up sixty year old' that he was going to be working on. But he 
wasn't going to complain.


4. The Rubber and the Road

"Hi Connie!" Phil said, as he walked into the so-called "red room", 
deserted except for the costumed actress.

"Hi Phil, how are you doing?" Connie responded with a smile, "I saw you 
earlier."

"Yeah, just helping out with the sound, I'm here on work experience."

"Do you know when the lady is going to come and put a microphone on me? 
We're getting really close to curtain."

Peter avoided eye contact. "Well, the thing is, we don't have any women 
in the audio crew. And the other guys are really busy, so, uhm... they 
sent me."

"Oh, you're going to mic me up? Okay. It's just I thought it had to go 
under the costume."

"Yeah, uhm, this is a bit embarrassing, but yes, I'll need you to slip 
it off for a second and I'll clip this mic on."

Connie looked panicked. "Is that the only way? I'm sorry, I've never 
done this kind of thing before."

Peter was about to answer when the voice came in his headset - "ten 
minutes to air, positions everyone" - and then a second later, "ten 
minutes to curtain, everyone" shouted in the corridor outside.

Connie was red faced. She bit her lip. "Okay. Let's do it."

She reached behind herself, unclipped some hooks, and started to pull 
the dress up. Peter had the mic in his fingers, ready to clip it on to 
her bra quickly so she could get herself decent again without too much 
embarrassment. He couldn't help watching the shape of her breasts as the 
fabric of the dress flowed over them.

"How are you going to clip that on me?" Connie asked, slightly muffled, 
as she worked the dress up over her body.

"I'll just clip it on your bra," Peter replied, matter-of-factly, as 
Connie finally pulled the dress over her head. He stared in shock.

"But I'm not wearing a bra," Connie said, quite unnecessarily.

Her unexpected, shocking nakedness made Peter gasp. He couldn't help but 
stare wide-eyed, as she stood there in her underwear, at her exposed 
grapefruit-sized breasts, each capped by a somehow soft and vulnerable 
looking pink nipple. For a moment he forgot to breathe.

"Well?" Connie demanded, a trace of annoyance in her voice, but also, 
perhaps, amusement.

"No bra," Peter stammered.

"No shit, sherlock," Connie giggled. "Can you mic me up?"

"I'll have to tape the mic to your chest, in between your.. uhm.. 
breasts," Peter offered.

"Do you know how? Have you done that before?"

"Uhm, no. Not really. Not on a woman." Actually, not on a man either, 
but he didn't feel like admitting that.

"Well, I guess it'll be a learning experience for both of us. Best do it 
quickly."

Peter knew the theory; he knew how to lay tape on the chest; and tape 
the mic to that tape; and then build a protective layer  of tape on top 
of the mic to stop the costume rubbing on it, while still allowing free 
flow of air to pick up the actor's voice. He pulled the roll of surgical 
tape from his toolbox, and tore a strip off. He gently brought his hands 
up to Connie's chest and placed the tape between her breasts. Pushing it 
down he was surprised to feel her trembling a little underneath his touch.

Peter's own hand shook as he positioned the mic with one hand and 
brought tape up to secure it with the other, a maneuver that placed his 
wrists within a half-inch of her nipples. He felt her gasp as he 
accidentally brushed one of them with his hand while sticking down the 
tape; by the time he was done he had "accidentally" brushed against her 
nipples a dozen times and he felt them growing harder each time. Her 
face was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat over the skin of her 
breasts.

Peter held the microphone lead and reached around behind her to tape it 
there, his body close to hers, their eyes level. She stared into his 
eyes and deliberately shifted her body, pressing her breasts into his 
chest and her groin into his. Her eyes registered surprise at his 
hardness there. Then the lead was taped; Peter pulled back from her, and 
the moment was over.

"Five minutes to air, everyone."

Peter cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "Could you just, test it."

"This is Connie Clark playing Emily, and I'm here with Peter and he's 
just miked me up. He did a really good job, he's a real pro. Can you 
hear me okay?"

"Hey Peter, Phil, that's fine, good job there. Can you get back to the 
truck now?"

"It's working. I have to go," Phil told Connie, "Uhm, Listen..."

"Sssh," Connie stopped him, her finger up to her lip. She smiled. 
"Nothing to say. Now go."


5. Fade to black

"Back to network master in four... three... two... one... and we're out. 
Thank you everyone, that was beautiful."

There is a real thrill in working on live television. Peter felt it now. 
The sense of accomplishment and of shared achievement was very real.

"Great job guys," Phil told his audio crew. "Everything came together, 
even if it was a bit last-minute. Where were you just before we went on 
air Mark? Couldn't get hold of you."

"Uh, call of nature."

"Okay, well make sure you let me know next time. Because I couldn't get 
you, Peter here had to do a concealed mic for one of the actresses." 
Phil shot Peter a knowing grin. "So was she an old hag, Peter, or a 
young hottie?"

Peter blushed. "She was... pretty nice. Actually I know her from 
school... she was in one of my classes."

"Way to go Peter!" exclaimed Jake. "One night in live television and 
you're getting all the perks of the job already! Did you feel her up?"

"Leave him alone Jake," grinned Mark. "You're too old to be fantasizing 
about schoolgirls in their bras."

"Aw, now you're never too old for that," laughed Phil, "but it's 
important to be professional about these things. I'm sorry if it was 
awkward for you Peter, especially with it being a classmate of yours. 
Mark can go remove it from her if you like."

"No, that's okay!" interrupted Peter, "I'll do it!"

"Caught you!" Phil exclaimed, and the others laughed, "The wardrobe 
people will take it off and send them back to us. But I appreciate your 
enthusiasm! Let's get started on packing everything up."


6. Tear down

The last cable Peter had to pull in was the impossibly thick, heavy 
multicore cable that had connected each of the mics on stage to the 
truck. It didn't cooperate with things like corners and other objects so 
Peter had to make a long series of journeys to and from the truck to get 
it past one obstacle or another. The theatre was almost empty, with only 
a few low-ranking assistants like himself still around to finish the 
tear down.

Sweaty and tired, Peter bent over the cable.

"Hey, Peter," came a voice. Peter recognized it at once. He looked up.

Connie was wearing her regular outfit of jeans and T-shirt. "Can you 
come talk? It's important."

"Sure, for a moment."

Connie took Peter's hand and pulled him into the empty office she had 
come from. She looked up and down the corridor, closed the door firmly, 
walked over to Peter, and without saying a word, bent down in front of 
him and reached for his zipper.

"Hey, wait."

Connie flashed him a smiling glance then pulled the button of his pants 
open. Still without speaking, she quickly pulled his underwear down just 
enough to let his now-hardening penis spring out. Peter reacted with a 
gasp of surprise, which turned into a groan of pleasure as she wrapped 
her lips around his shaft and luxuriously licked his glans. Peter had 
never been the recipient of a blowjob before.

Peter had no idea what was going on. "I have to finish.... why are you 
doing this?" he tried to say.

Connie looked up at him, but made no reply except to pull more of his 
penis into her mouth, and begin sucking with more intensity.

Peter had already been in a highly sexed state from their earlier 
encounter, and he knew he had no self-control now.

"You're going to make me come. I can't stop it. I'm going to come."

Again, no response, except for a clamping of her mouth around his shaft, 
and yet further escalation of intensity. Peter moaned at the rising 
sensation of pressure and warmth and pleasure building inside him.

Then it happened; unable to control himself, Peter ejaculated in wave 
after wave of pleasure. With each contraction of his muscles he felt a 
new and unimaginably intense crescendo of ecstasy. Connie still had his 
penis enclosed in her mouth, and every spurt of ejaculation was going 
deep inside her.

Finally it was over. Shaken, spent, Peter zipped himself up.

"That was... amazing. But why?"

"Go finish your work. I'll come see you then."

"But..."

"Work. Then talk. Okay?"


7.  Pep Talk

Their work done, Peter and Phil relaxed for a few moments with their 
coffees.

"Big night for you, Peter," observed Phil. "Lots of new experiences."

If only he knew, thought Peter. "Yup. It's been amazing."

"It's like a drug addiction, once you get used to this buzz, you can't 
live without it."

"I know what you mean. I feel it."

"So, uh, that girl you miked up. I got the mic back from wardrobe with 
surgical tape on it. Funny, I thought, don't usually need tape to attach 
a mic to a bra. No, no need to explain, wardrobe told me the girl wasn't 
wearing a bra. Definitely quite an educational night for you, huh?"

"I... it was only a few minutes to go..."

"No need to explain yourself. You did good. Getting the show on the air 
is the important thing, more important than scruples about body parts. 
And I don't blame you for not mentioning it in front of those reprobates 
Jake and Mark. I wouldn't have either."

Phil chuckled. "I've seen a fair few titties in my time doing this job. 
More than that, too; you'd be surprised the number of big stars that 
don't wear underwear. And to be honest the professional talent get so 
used to it that they don't care who sees them. But the first-timers; 
that's different. It's always a big deal to them. In my experience, if 
you're the guy who's taping mics to titties and running wires around a 
woman's body, and she's never had that happen before, there are only two 
things that can happen. Either she wants to sue you, or, pardon my 
French, she wants to fuck you."

"Hey, Peter," came a shout from the other end of the truck, where the 
camera guys were packing away equipment, "there's a girl here looking 
for you. Name's Connie. Says you know what it's about."

Phil raised a wry eyebrow and gestured for Peter to go. "Better find out 
which one it is, kid. See you tomorrow!"


8. Exposition

The car park was deserted, save for Peter's beat-up Golf, in which he 
sat with Connie, the two of them staring forward into the darkness.

"Did you actually get to see the play?" she asked him.

"Mostly no, I was too busy".

"I played this character called Emily. She's meant to be this 
upper-class, morally pure Victorian girl. She's one of the daughters of 
the main characters who they try to match up with, you know, eligible 
bachelors. And she gets to meet this succession of men, and she likes 
them all, but her parents keep finding reasons to reject them.  So 
you've got this horny teenaged girl who keeps meeting these complete 
studs of Victorian men, and she can't do anything about her horniness, 
and she can't even masturbate probably, since she'd be like thrown in an 
asylum or something if she got caught. And, you know, speaking frankly, 
that's not a problem for the modern guy or girl, right?"

Peter nodded agreement. "Definitely isn't."

"So I guess I never really felt that I was inside this character, and 
then tonight comes along. And through events that I have no control 
over, I'm standing there half-naked in front of you, and you're touching 
me. And I really liked it. I mean, I know you had to do it, it's your 
job, but you can't tell me you didn't like it. I could tell you did. And 
I could see how hard you were getting. And, my god, it felt good when 
you touched my nipples. I thought I was going to have an orgasm each 
time you did it. It was so sexy."

Peter blushed. He'd never heard a girl talk so frankly about these 
things. He still couldn't believe this was all happening, and with 
Connie too.

"So I'm there, and I'm absolutely bursting, totally ready to come. And 
it can't happen. You can't do it for me. I can't do it for myself. 
Because I'm due on stage, like, right then. And so I went through the 
whole performance as horny as hell, desperate for sexual release. And 
you know what? It totally worked. That's who my character is. It worked."

Peter was puzzled. "So, after all that, why did you...?"

"The oral sex thing? Didn't you like it?"

"I loved it. But why did you do it?"

"There are three reasons. One, because I wanted to give you a gift for 
making my character work so well for me. And two, for purely selfish 
reasons, namely that I want you to do something for me."

"What do you want me to do?"

Connie turned to look at him, and touched his shoulder. "I want you to 
make love to me. And I want an orgasm. And I've been with other boys our 
age, so I know that if you were still horny like I was, you'd blow your 
load really quickly and I'd be stuck. I need an orgasm. I've needed one 
for four hours now. Right now, I'm so horny that I feel the lightest 
touch will set me off. I am deadly serious about this. I want a hard, 
strong fuck. I know you probably have some stamina right now. Are you up 
for it?"

Peter smiled. "I'm willing to give it a try."


9. Resolution

Peter held Connie's shoulders, and kissed her hard. She responded 
instantly, her lips parting to allow their tongues to meet. They probed 
and pushed back against each other while Peter ran his hands down 
Connie's body. She shuddered and Peter felt himself instantly hardening. 
He grabbed her left breast through her T-shirt, feeling the fabric of 
the bra beneath and the unmistakable hardness of her nipple. Connie 
placed both her hands on his ass and pulled him hard onto her as she lay 
back on the car seat, opening her legs to let him lie between them.

Peter gasped at the feel of his penis against her body. Despite the 
layers of clothing between them he could feel an incredible warmth from 
her. They continued to kiss, urgently, as Peter moved his hands under 
her T-shirt and boldly pulled her bra aside. Connie stretched back to 
undo the clasp of her bra, as Peter pulled her T-shirt up to kiss her 
exposed nipple. Connie moaned and tensed at the feel of his mouth on 
her, and thrust her groin against his, her breathing labored. She 
reached down to undo her jeans, then slid them down with her underwear 
just to her hips. In the faint light, Peter could just see the darkness 
of a little patch of pubic hair, and he could smell the unmistakable 
scent of her womanhood.

Peter undid his own pants and let his penis jump free. He kissed Connie 
hard again on the mouth while he pulled her pants down further, a little 
harder than he intended. She gasped, and kissed him back with 
enthusiasm. And then his penis was at her entrance, and then suddenly, 
it was engulfed by her warmth. Connie moaned as Peter thrust into her 
with his entire body. She gasped, and tensed, and in a few strokes, 
Peter felt her vagina shudder and tighten around him, and then she was 
coming, moaning, pulling him into her yet further, gasping as she 
recovered her breath.

Her movements slowed for a moment, and then with renewed strength, she 
pushed Peter back to his seat - but moved her body with his, so that she 
was straddling his still-hard penis, her pert breasts and erect nipples 
just inches from his face. She ground up and down on Peter, selfishly 
fucking him. She moved her breast into his mouth and screwed up her face 
in pleasure as Peter sucked hard on her nipple.

But a thought bothered Peter. "Three reasons. But you only said two."

"In class," moaned Connie, "I always wanted to get to know you better. 
Maybe go out with you. But I didn't think you were interested."

"I was interested! I've wanted this since the first time I saw you."

Connie's breathing intensified as she continued to bear down on him. "I 
used to masturbate thinking about you," she told him.

"I used to have wet dreams thinking about you!" he responded.

"Then why the FUCK", Connie exclaimed, "haven't we done this before now?"

Connie reached her second orgasm in a guttural yell of animal noise. It 
was finally more than Peter could endure, and he too came as Connie's 
body shuddered around his. They panted, still embracing. Peter felt his 
penis slowly softening inside her.

"Did today really happen?" Peter wondered out loud.

"I sure fucking hope so," laughed Connie. "Because there are a few parts 
of it I want to repeat."

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