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Busy Hands
🕑 Added 2022-06-08 19:00:00 +0000 UTC“Jess wants to see you,” one of the stagehands told Denny Petersen, and he groaned.
Usually, a lead actress wanting to see her director was no cause for alarm. And being in the presence of Jessica Alba was something that any man in America would start giving out his PIN number for a chance at. But for some reason, the relationship was entirely contentious.
Maybe it was that they were about the same age—Jessica a raw actress shoved into the spotlight at least somewhat for her incredible looks, while Denny was fresh from film school, being given a shot on a low-budget horror film because he worked cheap and he’d gotten about as lucky as Jessica had to win the genetic lottery. He knew chances like this didn’t come along every day.
And he wasn’t afraid of hard work, obviously, since he’d graduated top of his class at UCLA. But he’d never imagined this shoot would be so stupidly difficult. It was a silly little horror comedy. Jessica played the female lead, and yes, the part was written around her supple body, she was the butt of the joke as often as not. But she’d read the script! She knew she was signing on for a quick payday and a chance to show a little range.
But every day she threw a fit over what a bimbo her character was. It was like she hadn’t internalized that she was playing a part, a fictional person, and Molly’s characterization wasn’t a reflection on her. Denny felt like he was her agent, having to calm her down and get her in the mood to simply play each scene as written.
And already today he was monkeying around playing intern, finding the Satanic book prop and delivering it to set since everyone else was working too hard to do it themselves. It left him with precious little sympathy for Ms. Alba. Gripping the prop under his arm, he walked to Jessica’s trailer and knocked on the door.
“Finally you’re here!” Jessica said bitterly, opening the door for him. “I know I’m not the main character here, but I am the love interest. Are you out there lavishing attention on Devon? Because I could use a little directing now and then!”
Denny walked into her trailer, straightening his tie as Jessica slammed the door shut behind him. That confirmed his suspicion that he was going to have to eat shit here, but at least he could do it in private, not in front of the entire cast and crew.
“Can you just tell me what the problem is?” Denny asked.
Jessica rampaged over to the couch and picked up the white bra and panties she’d be wearing for the climax—no pun intended—holding them up to her nubile breasts and gorgeous hips to demonstrate how skimpy they were on her clothed figure. “Look at this! I have to spend two whole scenes just in this!”
Denny held up his hands. “That’s the gag, Jess. You’re in your underwear. It’s what makes the situation ridiculous and that’s what makes it funny.”
As a director, he had to be part psychologist, and though inexperienced, all of his instincts were telling him that Jessica’s issue didn’t stem from bodily shyness. She’d certainly never hesitated to show off her body before. And yet, here she was, insisting that was the case.
“I’m practically naked!” Jessica whined. “I did not agree to do nudity! And it’ll practically be a sex scene, the way you’ll have the camera fuck me while I’m in these!”
She threw the underwear at him—Denny shielded himself with the only thing he had on hand. The demonic book he’d been holding under his arm. Her undergarments hit and bounced off the book.
“It reminds me of what I wore in high school,” Jessica continued, but not at all in the ranting tone she’d had before. Now she spoke dreamily, like she was under hypnosis.
Denny lowered the book. Jessica stood there, her eyes blankly vacant, swaying on her heels. Then a spark of recognition came over her eyes and she looked around in confusion… before once again falling under whatever spell had been cast on her.
Subtle emotions ran under the surface of her expression, flickering across her features, like she was accessing some suppressed memory. She didn’t seem to be totally under, but almost drunk or high, her thoughts sluggish, some… alchemy happening inside her that was distracting her from fully articulating whatever had just been consuming her.
Denny wondered if it was a method thing.
What else could it be? He knew the prop department guys were good, but could they really have duplicated some real grimoire with a spell that could be activated by being touched by intimate apparel? That was ridiculous.
At any rate, this was at least a nice change of pace from Jessica yelling at him and him trying to pacify her.
Jessica smiled loopily, like a fond memory had swam to the surface of her clouded mind. She stooped down and picked up the panties with one finger, now treating them like some beloved family heirloom. She held them up to Denny’s gaze and he couldn’t help but picture her wearing them. If that didn’t make their movie a hit, nothing would.
“Yeah, I’d wear something like this in high school… with a skirt… I’d see some guy I thought was cute and… get his attention… the way I look at a guy, he can tell I’m eying him from across a football field…” Jessica giggled. “Then I’d lift my skirt and… pull my panties aside… let him see how wet I was… and when the bell rang, I’d have him in a supply closet… down on my knees… big dick in my mouth… God, I loved it when they had a big dick…”
Denny coughed, hating himself for it—any sound he made seemed likely to bring Jessica out of her trance and already, he felt like he had more spank bank material than a year’s subscription to the Playboy Channel. Just hearing Jessica’s girlish voice set the scene, it practically beamed images of what she’d described into his head.
“Hey, can you make me a drink?” Jessica asked, now curling a lock of hair around her forefinger. “I loved getting a little wasted… not enough to black out… wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun… but once guys think they’ve got me drunk, then they feel free to make a move… it sucks how many guys get scared off when you just try to grab their dick… their big dick…”
A moony smile covered her face as she pulled her lock of hair taut until it slipped off her fingernail. She looked like the head cheerleader flirting with the captain of the football team—the perfect low-wattage, high-sexuality performance he wanted for her scenes in the movie—but directed at him, all that sensuality was almost intimidating. Denny took a deep breath and decided to compensate like any good prey animal, by puffing himself up and acting even bigger than she could ever be.
Denny quickly went to Jessica’s liquor cabinet—perks of being a starlet—and made a gin & tonic. The way Jessica was talking, this seemed to be her way of hinting… if it could even remotely be considered a hint… that she wanted to get drunk as a smokescreen for, well, whatever. So Denny picked the largest glass he could find.
He went back to the entranced Jessica. She moaned at the sight of him… or maybe it was seeing the drink. He held it out to her.
“Wow, that’s a lot,” she giggled coquettishly. “Such a big glass… aren’t you having one?”
“I never drink on-duty,” Denny told her.
“But I can’t drink all this. I’m only a hundred and ten pounds.”
“Drink it down,” he ordered her, feeling like a proper director handling an unruly star the way everyone wished to—like a wild animal to be whipped and caged. “All of it. You need to relax. You’re too high-strung.”
“Your voice is so cold… so demanding,” Jessica breathed. “I mean, I like it… I would’ve slept with you in high school for sure… like, I slept with everyone, but I’m sure I would’ve come a couple times with you… once, this guy… he was an old guy… he told me to come while he was fucking me… I was nowhere near close to coming, but the way he said it… I just went off… it was like he was telling my pussy what to do, not me!”
Jessica howled with laughter. Denny put his finger on the glass and tipped it until Jessica had to put her mouth on the rim and drink or let it spill.
It was strong. She choked. He let up a little, but after she’d successfully swallowed, Denny started tipping it over once again. Jessica went right back to drinking.
Her delicate throat working in undulating rhythm, making Denny remember what she’d said about giving blowjobs. It’d sounded more like a… a hobby than an isolated incident.
He stopped before Jessica’s sputtering throat could fully rebel. She coughed a little as the liquor had its way with her, but finally went down. Denny set the half-full glass aside.
“Why don’t you tell me some more about your… high school experience?” Sitting down on the couch with her, he took her small hand in his and toyed with her wrist—petting and stroking it in what was obviously foreplay. Jessica moaned hotly, but when Denny spoke to her, his voice was ice-cold, as she seemed to respond best to: “Give me details. Tell me all the naughty, nasty things you did. Get it off your chest. Maybe then you won’t have such a problem with wearing fucking underwear.”
“M-my roommate… Gabbie… we… we made love some…”
“Made love?” Denny squeezed her hand hard. “What kind of language is that for someone who used to be blowjob queen of the high school supply closet? What did you two cunts really do?”
Jessica leaned back in her seat, her cheeks flushed, obviously giddy. Exhilarated by what she was talking about. Denny wasn’t sure how much of this was simple arousal and how much really was relief at getting this out in the open—but whatever bizarre blend of sex, therapy, and directing this was, he couldn’t say no to it.
“We did things… with our tongues…”
“Tell me, bitch.” Denny squeezed her slender hand again.
Jessica moaned, taking a deep breath before she let the words flow. “I love having my cunt licked… it’s such a good feeling… I don’t think a man can ever realize… you like blowjobs, but if it felt like getting eaten out, you’d never want anything else… I’ve met some artists at eating cunt… but too few guys are like that… so another woman… and Gabbie was so pretty… I wanted to see that cute face while she came…”
“Yeah?” Denny’s eyes sparkled with lust. He stroked her hand, now encouragingly, trying to spur her on with the pleasure of his touch.
Jessica went a little cross-eyed, like her enjoyment of Denny’s efforts was multiplied by the arousal of what she was recalling. Maybe the spell she was under too; maybe even the drink. But when she continued, it was like she was masturbating herself with her own voice.
“I was asleep,” she moaned. “Gabbie had been out… working late… it was a warm night… I didn’t sleep with the sheets on… or my clothes on… it was nothing Gabbie hadn’t seen before… I thought she wouldn’t even see me in the dark… but she lit a candle… she was funny like that… and I was half-awake… trying to figure out what that glow was… and I felt something delicious between my legs… I was confused, at first, because we had twin beds and Gabbie was in mine… I thought she’d gotten confused too… like she’d meant to touch herself, but because she’d gotten in the wrong bed, she was touching me instead… then I didn’t care… it just felt so good…”
