I felt weightless. Beautiful. A hushed silence had fallen over the audience at the 90th Academy Awards as the nominations for Best Actress in a Leading Role were announced. I knew I would win. Everybody knew I would win. The critics had been raving about my performance since the star-studded premiere of Desiccated Coconut.
I glanced to my left at my date and co-star Daniel Carlton. Daniel fucking Carlton. Actor, writer, director, not to mention the prettiest face in Tinseltown. His hand covered mine. He winked at me. Daniel Carlton winked at me. Iād have pinched myself if not for the knowledge that a HD camera was focused directly towards us.
Everything felt clean and flawless. Perfume and perfect skin. I pinned on a smile as veteran actors Pascal Knight and Lily Hampton fussed over the envelope on stage.
Lily tossed back her mane of silver-blonde hair. The diamonds at her throat glittered.
āAnd the Oscar goes toā¦ā she paused for dramatic effect, āā¦ Elle Ronan for Desiccated Coconut!ā
The applause swelled, warm and rapturous like a hot summerās night. Danielās arms went around me before Iād even stood up. He held me so tight I feared heād crease my dress. I went to kiss him but was pulled away by our director and then a producer. I made my way towards the stage, determined not to trip over the hem of my Chanel dress as I manoeuvred the stairs.
Pascal kissed me on either cheek. Lily bestowed me with an air-kiss. I expected them to let me move towards the microphone but Pascal held up a hand, still holding tight to the golden statuette.
āBefore your speech, we have a question. General knowledge. Against the clock, of course. Is that okay?ā
I laughed nervously, scanning the audience for my manager. This wasnāt protocol, was it? Still, maybe the night had been moving too fast and they were killing time. Did it matter? Itād just be a silly question.
āOkay,ā I said.
Pascal handed the award to Lily. He cleared his throat, extracted a cue card and timer from his pocket and read in a clear voice:
āWhat are the five stages in Maslowās hierarchy of needs?ā
The timer started counting down from thirty, each second punctuated by a harsh bleep.
Everyone looked at me expectantly. My mouth felt suddenly dry. I knew the answer. Iād read about it in my textbook just before the ceremony. Maslow. Motivation, was it? I glanced at the crowd. People began turning to one another judgementally. Hundreds of whispered conversations buzzed. I didnāt know where to look. Think, for fuckās sake. I stared desperately down at my Dior high heels and then at the crowd.
āElle?ā Pascal raised an eyebrow.
Our eyes met.
āI thought you said general knowledge,ā I stalled.
He had a small smile on his artificial, Hollywood-aged face.
āThis is general knowledge. Cāmon. Itās easy.ā
I tried to think. I couldnāt.
āI donāt ā canāt,ā I was sweating. āI ā donāt remember.ā
Pascal turned to the audience.
āShe doesnāt remember!ā
The auditorium shook with hysterical laughter. Lily smirked haughtily at me. The timer bleeped manically, getting louder and louder. I couldnāt think.
āGod, you really are stupid, arenāt you?ā Pascal laughed.
I stared wordlessly at him. Pascal Knight was a gentleman! He was the industryās quintessential silver fox. And he couldnāt stop laughing at me. This could not be real. My business paper was in three days. But it didnāt make any sense. Three days. Business was a backup plan if I didnāt make it in Hollywood. But hadnāt I made it? Wasnāt I the best actress? Wasnāt Daniel Carlton my date?
I looked into the drowning sea of faces, my vision blurred. They just would not stop laughing. Even Daniel was laughing. I had to get out. I moved towards the wings but Lilyās stiletto had caught the hem of my dress. I heard a rip and then I was falling. I was falling on the stage of the Oscars and as the floor came up to meet me, the raucous laughter faded and all I could hear was the incessant beep of Pascalās timer.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The stage didnāt hit me in the face but reality did.
I woke with a start.
The glossy pages of my Business Management textbook felt smooth against my face. Lying on the single mattress, I heard my alarm ringing for the fourth time inĀ one day.
I was soaked in sweat but immensely relieved. It was a dream. Thank God. My hand reached out and scrabbled blindly through my bedside table. Keys, coins, pens and scraps of paper fell onto the threadbare carpet. The alarm persisted furiously.
I propped myself up on an elbow and pushed back tousled hair. I looked down at the open textbook Iād passed out on. I still wasnāt even halfway through, and the endless blocks of 8 pt. Arial made me want to cry. On the opposite side of the dark room, my phone buzzed and glowed ominously.
I dragged myself up and switched it off, thankful for my own sadistic foresight. Had I left the phone by my pillow, silencing it would have been beautifully simple and Iād have fallen back asleep within seconds. As it stood, I was now half-awake and alert enough to note that I still hadnāt changed out of my waitressing outfit from the shift at Caliās Diner.
Outside the window, the traffic was loud and fumes drifted through the crack in the glass. 21:47. I headed for the bathroom on autopilot, stood under the shower for half a minute, touched up waterproof makeup and hunted for my Grayās bartending shirt.
Through the thin wall separating our bedrooms, I could hear my roommate Alexandra going at it ferociously with her latest boyfriend. Some Scandinavian guy. Was he called Alex too? Or was it Magnus? Or perhaps Sven? Sven. He was decent-looking, I mused as I shook out my hair and retied it hurriedly.
I pulled on my shirt. A pair of black jeans andĀ old Nikes later, I slammed the apartment door shut behind me, hoping the noise would make Alex and Sven pause their fucking. It wasnāt nice but I wasnāt in a nice mood. Grayās was a dirty bar to work at and Alex still hadnāt forked out her share of the last monthās rent. My bank balance ran lower than what most people carried in their wallets and it was forever teetering on the verge of running out altogether.
I checked my phone for messages that didnāt exist. No call-backs. How many auditions was that now? My mind flicked back to the dream. I shivered at my own foolishness. Horns honked furiously as I darted across the busy street. I told myself Daniel Carlton was probably an asshole anyway.
***
I fell back through the apartment door five hours later, smelling like alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne but armed with sixty-three dollars worth of tips. Alex was sitting up, doing the double Jerry - watching Tom and Jerry cartoons on the small television and eating Ben and Jerryās.
āHey!ā Her face brightened when she saw me and I decided not to mention how lavishly she was living despite her outstanding rent arrears.
āHi,ā I said. I hated her a little. Alex went up and down like a yo-yo and I was always too wary of her next tantrum to get happy with her.
āI have great news,ā she said, eyeing me. Distractedly, I checked my phone whilst simultaneously wondering why anyone would text me at three in the morning.
āElle?ā Alex prompted, āI said, I have great news.ā
I looked at her.
āWhat news?ā I asked lightly.
āThereās a VIP party in Brentwood tomorrow night. Well, I mean, tonight. Like, Saturday night.ā
I shrugged, nonplussed. Alex always had a party to go to and she usually staggered home at midday, riding progressively worse hangovers.
āAnd?ā I looked at her.
āAnd weāre going!ā She did her best to dance whilst sitting on the couch.
āYouāre going,ā I corrected flatly. āHave fun.ā
Alex stared, wide-eyed.
āElle! What if we meet someone who knows someone?ā
āWhat are the chances?ā I scoffed. āSteven Spielbergās going to see us and immediately cast us in his next project? Dream on.ā
I remembered my own dream and felt my face heat. The lights were thankfully dim enough to protect me from questions about untimely blushing. Maslow. Fuck. Hierarchy of needs. I knew the answer. I just had to remember it.
āFor Godās sake, Elle!ā Alexās voice whined, āYou need to live! You canāt just work all the time.ā
I had to physically bite my tongue to stop myself telling her that work directly correlated with the ability to pay oneās rent.
āI donāt buy it anyway,ā I said. āHow would we get into an A-list party?ā
Alex smiled smugly.
āBecause, Magnus is Ricoās personal trainer.ā
So it was Magnus after all. I felt a stab of disappointment. Sven was a far superior name. Wait, did she say Rico? I frowned.
āRico who?ā
Alex smiled. She ate more ice-cream, watching me the whole time.
I groaned.
āRico who, Alex? Rico Hamilton? It canāt be Rico Hamilton. Heās a fucking billionaire.ā
My roommate of two years licked the edge of her spoon and scooped more ice-cream from the tub. She was so smug I could hardly look at her.
āIf it is, youāll come, right?ā she said. āI heard heās funding an indie movie starring Joshua Levison.ā
I folded my arms across my chest and tried not to look excited.
āDidnāt Hamilton make his money as an arms dealer? Selling to the Saudis? His money is way dirty.ā
Alex looked blank.
āIs there such a thing as clean money?ā
āIām just saying,ā I said, examining my un-manicured fingernails. āIf you think about it. Like, everything he has comes from the suffering of others. The alcohol will be like drinking the blood of dead children. The music will sound like orphans crying.ā
Alex levelled me with a stare.
āYou are so fucking weird sometimes. Are you coming or not?ā
***
I got home late on Saturday and found Alex already dressed for the party. She paced around our apartment with furious impatience while a tuxedoed Magnus tried to pacify her with endless compliments. His European accent made everything sound wonderfully dirty but I had to agree that in her glittery dress and stilettoes, Alex did look incredible
I showered hastily and put on my one pretty dress; a short black Valentino piece Iād foolishly bought after booking my first commercial. It was the nicest thing I owned and wearing it in our small, overheated apartment with broken windows and ripped furnishings felt as fake as Hollywood could.
I did my makeup in record time, playing it safe with extra eyeliner and lip-gloss. I brushed out my hair and found my fake black Manolos. Throwing on perfume and cheap silver jewellery, I followed Alex and Magnus down the concrete stairs of our block.
It took us an hour to get to the party. It wasnāt in Brentwood after all but at an opulent Santa Monica mansion. The atmosphere buzzed and the taxi couldnāt get past the first gate. Climbing out, we walked up the endless drive. Fairy lights were strung between trees and perfectly manicured lawns were punctuated by glowing fountains. Refrigerator trucks were parked to one side and the doors of one were open, revealing endless cases of champagne.
Past the enormous entry doors was a hall and off it, a huge room which seemed to have been created solely for parties. To one side was a sparkling glass bar. A DJ played on a mezzanine floor above. A huge shark tank was embedded into the far wall beside the dance floor. Nobody seemed particularly interested in the pair of soullessly drifting sharks.
Alex clutched my arm.
āElle, I swear I just saw Annabel Rexel,ā Her nails dug harder. āFuck, that canāt be Harry Carter. Oh my god. Iām gonna talk to him. Do you think heāll talk to me?ā
She didnāt wait for an answer. Tossing her hair back, she strode towards one of the hottest new actors in Hollywood. I couldnāt believe her nerve. Magnus headed for the bar leaving me unaccompanied. Awkwardly, I pretended to check my phone. A young waiter offered me champagne. I took two glasses, pretending one was for a friend and then drank them both. I wandered around, overhearing snippets of conversations.
āā¦his dad gave him a yacht. A yacht.ā
āā¦itās not great but that girl who did the Superbowl is singing later.ā
Another waiter. More champagne. I had to admit that the champagne tasted excellent.
āā¦heās a real nice guy. He let me use his jet when...ā
Everyone was dressed impeccably. Huge glass doors led out into the private rear gardens. Everything looked like money. I found myself wishing Iād stayed home, or taken an overtime shift at the diner. I felt more out of place than I would have in the goddamn shark tank.
Magnus approached and handed me some champagne just as a breathless but very excited Alex hurried through the glass doors.
āItās like fifteen acres or something,ā she gushed, taking the champagne Magnus proffered. āTennis courts.Huge pool. Itās like a lake. Even some kind of race track. Thereās a bunch of guys going NFS with Ricoās supercar collection. Listen.ā
We listened. Over the pounding music, I heard the faint rev of engines. Magnusās blue eyes lit up.
āI used to drive on the NĆ¼rburgring at college.ā
Alex and I looked at each other as he disappeared through the crowd.
āDonāt ask,ā she sighed, downing her entire flute of champagne. āI never have a clue what heās talking about.ā She took my champagne and sipped it. āHeās nice though.ā She frowned over my shoulder. āWhyās that guy coming over? Dāyou know him?ā
I glanced in the direction she was looking and by then, a man had approached us. I didnāt have time to take in more than the obvious. Tall. Dark eyes. His shirt was open at the collar. A tumbler of what must have been scotch in his hand. He seemed familiar and yet I couldnāt place him.
āHi,ā he said. āIām Neil.ā
He was looking right at me. I blinked.
āUh ā hi. Iām Elle. This is Alex.ā
āHey,ā His voice was warm. āCan I get you a drink?ā
āNeil?ā Alex looked at him carefully. āYouāre Neil Hamilton?ā Her eyes widened. āRicoās brother?ā
āThatās right,ā he said. He didnāt look at her once. He sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving mine.
āIsnāt Nat Swann your girlfriend?ā Alex asked.
Neil ignored her. He finished his drink and a waiter appeared to take his glass.
āDid you come with Nat?ā Alex pressed. āI saw her earlier. Sheās there. At the bar.ā
I looked towards the bar but Neil caught my hand, distracting me.
āYou wanna dance?ā
Heād pulled me through the crowd and across the room before I could protest. The music thumped, easing into me seductively. I hadnāt planned to dance but we were dancing and the brother of an egotistical arms-dealer had his hand on the small of my back. It slid down a little. I reached back and pushed it back up.
āWouldnāt you rather dance with your girlfriend?ā I asked.
He frowned at me, half-smiling.
āNat? Iām avoiding her.ā
It was my turn to frown.
āI broke up with her,ā he clarified.
I eyed him. āYou broke up with Nat Swann? But sheās like ā gorgeous.ā
He gave me another easy smile.
āYouāre more gorgeous.ā
āBut really,ā I could hardly catch my own thoughts he was spinning me around so fast. Every time I turned towards the bar, Iād see Nat eyeing us furiously. It made me very nervous.
āBut really what?ā he asked.
āWhyāre you avoiding her?ā
āāCause I have nothing to say to her. Also, itās a party. I came out to have a good time.ā
āSo you decided to dance with me to make your ex jealous?ā
His smile was so perfect and warming it made me feel weak. I felt like I could look at him forever.
āI decided to dance with you because I wanted to dance with you, Elle. You looked like I felt.ā The way he said my name made me swallow hard. His tongue hit the ālā like he wanted to lick it.
āWhat did I look like?ā I stalled.
He didnāt entertain me with a reply. He smiled again.
āSo whatās your day job, Elle? Lemme guess. Singer slash actress?ā
I narrowed my eyes at him but he only smiled wider.
āActress slash waitress slash bartender actually,ā I corrected. āYou?ā
He smirked.
āWell. Iāve written a screenplay. Actually, one of my characters looks just like you.ā
I laughed. āOh? Do you kill her off? Should I be worried?ā
āNah. You know something, Elle?ā
I looked up at him and wished I hadnāt.
He really was devastatingly handsome.
āWhat?ā I asked.
āYouāre beautiful.ā
āUh ā thanks?ā
He laughed. It made my insides clench.
āFor real,ā he said. āI was standing there watching you and I just had to talk to you. You ever feel alone in a crowd?ā
āI ā I guess.ā
āAnd then I see you and it doesnāt seem fake.ā
I looked at him hard.
āAre you high?ā
Neil laughed and let go of me even though the song hadnāt finished. Then he kissed me. For a second, I felt lost. I didnāt kiss him back. He pulled away and I wiped my mouth.
āWhyād you do that?ā I asked.
He looked at me.
āāCause I wanted to.ā
He kissed me again and somebody bumped into me from behind, pushing me against him. My mouth opened against his and his tongue swept confidently against mine. His fingers sank into my hair. It felt drugging. I kissed him back without consciously deciding to, my body arching up to press against his. He kissed me harder and I reciprocated like we were competing.
āYou wanna get out of here?ā
His mouth dragged down to my neck, warm and damp against my skin. His hands slipped down to my ass and he groped it as though he didnāt care who saw.
āWhat do you mean?ā I asked breathlessly.
āLetās go to a real party. Somewhere more fun.ā
I frowned even as he bit and sucked on my neck. More fun? Iād never seen so much of what I assumed to be fun in my entire life. Celebrities were flirting, getting drunk on champagne and racing Lamborghinis. How much more fun could a party be? Everyone was dancing and laughing and beautiful. Everyone except Nat Swann. I inadvertently caught her eye across the room and felt eternally grateful for the fact that looks couldnāt kill.
āOkay,ā I said. āLetās go.ā
***
The Bentley swept through the iconic gates onto Bel Air road, the tree flanked street dark and moody. Neil walked his fingers from my knee up to the hem of my dress and then walked them back down. He kept doing it. I donāt know if he realised or if he was lost in thought. But I felt so aware of it.
My mind flicked back to lazy summer high school days back in Nevada. Iād had a boyfriend. A distant memory now, someone young, warm and easy to get along with. Weād sit on theĀ hood of his car, silver paintwork warm against the backs of my legs as we made out. It ended the way a heat wave does; sudden but natural. Almost overnight. I went to LA to work deadend jobs. He went to college to study computer science.
The thought of him hurt a little, as I sat in the back of a chauffer-driven car with an offensively rich manās hand under my skirt. Why is it that we let ourselves fall for appearances? The little I knew about Neil didnāt bode well but one involuntary smile and I felt like Iād do anything for him.
He reached under the seat unexpectedly and handed me something.
āYou should put this on,ā
Tentatively, I examined what appeared to be an intricately crafted black mask.
āA mask?ā
I looked at his shadowed face.
He shifted. āItās kind ofā a masquerade.ā
He had a mask too, with some kind of ridiculous beak on it. I guessed it was Venetian-style. Still, he wore it well.
āWeāre here,ā he said a short while later, and we were. The car eased through a huge pair of gates. In the distance, a palatial house loomed. A circus of supercars had been abandoned on the sweeping drive and were being whisked away by identical-looking valets.
āLeave your purse here,ā Neil murmured. āNo phones.ā
I frowned. āWhat? Why not?ā
āNo cameras,ā he said, as though it was obvious. āHey, put your mask on.ā
No cameras? I fumbled with the mask as he slipped out of the car and came around to open my door. He held out his hand and I took it unthinkingly as we walked up towards the French limestone mansion.
No phones? Masks? I looked back towards the car but it had disappeared. Neilās hand felt reassuringly warm but unease filtered through me.
A guy in a tux and a woman in a cocktail dress worked the door. Neil seemed to know them and we walked in unhindered. The swell of music welcomed us. My mask wasnāt sitting right and I had half a mind to take it off but as I reached up to touch it, my hand froze. Immediately in front of me, two girls wearing bunny ears and nothing else were making out and fingering one another urgently.
āWhat the fuck?ā
I seemed to be the only one shocked by the display. People watched interestedly.My eyes darted around the room. Almost everyone had a mask on and the level of nudity was shocking. Women wandered around in lingerie.I felt thoroughly overdressed. Everyone was indecently attractive.
Everything suddenly made sense. More fun. Masks. No phones.
We were at a sex party.
I elbowed Neil hard.
āWhy the hell would you bring me here?ā
He looked down at me, one side of his mouth lifting.
āJust ā relax. Nobody knows who we are. You donāt have to do anything you donāt want.ā
It seemed like a trap of some sort. Iād always thought thereād be an underlying seediness to sex parties; something off-putting and a little too barefaced to be pretty. But there wasnāt. It seemed classy. People who werenāt fucking were drinking champagne and watching other people like they were at an art exhibition.
I could have walked out but wandering around L.A. in the dark didnāt seem intelligent, especially since my purse was still in the back of Neilās elusive Bentley.
A girl with a waterfall of glitter-strewn black hair approached us. She wore an elaborate mask studded with diamantes. Two realistic catās ears sat atop her head and a fluffy black tail hung behind her.
āI like your mask,ā she purred.
I adjusted it self-consciously.
āWell ā thanks, I guess.ā
Green eyes studied me.
āFirst time, huh?ā
I nodded awkwardly, unable to stop looking at her tits. How could someone with such a tiny waist have such huge tits? It did not make sense. She laughed and wandered off, leaving me staring at her swaying tail. Again, it did not make any sense. Neil was still holding my hand and even though he was the one whoād brought me into the lionās den, I felt like he was a safety net. A portal back to reality.
āCāmon,ā he said, āLetās get a drink.ā
We walked past what I thought was two guys having anal sex but then realised the guy taking it was also giving it to a third guy who was then giving it to a fourth. The synchronisation was admirable and might have seemed rehearsed if it wasnāt for the obvious grunts of pleasure. The guy at the front was being sucked off by a girl with vibrant flamingo feathers in her hair.
āDo you come here often?ā I asked. Weād reached the bar and its immaculate cleanliness comforted me a little.
Neil blew out a sigh.
āWould it disgust you if I said yes?ā
He looked at me. I looked at him.
āI donāt know,ā I said, and I didnāt.
Neil ordered whisky. I had rum and coke which I drank too fast. Not that it mattered since my glass had barely touched the bar before it was refilled. I sipped the second slowly, not wanting to lose myself in such sketchy surroundings.
We watched as a ridiculously hot blonde woman in black lingerie and stiletto boots walked past. In one hand she held a flogger. In the other she had a leash which was attached to the silver collar of a man who hurried after her on all fours.
āFuck,ā Neil muttered.
āDoes she turn you on?ā I asked, wide-eyed.
āShe looks like a total bitch,ā he quipped, and we laughed.
A bunch of girls who looked about my age were parading down a catwalk in the middle of the room. They wore nothing but identical leather collars.
āSlave auction,ā Neil explained. āItās boring. Cāmon.ā
It didnāt seem boring to me. A lithe redhead got auctioned off for $4,000 and seemed very excited. I hoped she got to keep the money. The guy who won her seemed nice enough but he wore a goddamn horse mask. I trailed Neil across the room and up a flight of stairs occupied by more than one amorous couple.
Upstairs, a sweeping corridor led to numerous open bedrooms. We paused at the first one and peered inside.
On the king-sized bed, a trio of girls were having oral sex in a triangle. They each had varying shades of blonde hair. One was still wearing a lacy bra. I wondered hazily about rumpled sheets, maids and laundry bills. On the far side of the bed, a straight couple were 69ing while a guy watched. His pants were unzipped and he stroked himself furiously before ejaculating on the womanās ass. She seemed remarkably unperturbed; not even looking up from her partnerās cock.
āYou think thatās hot?ā Neil murmured. His hand was on my ass. It couldnāt have been more welcome.
āNo!ā I tried to laugh. āOf course not!ā
But I was shamefully turned on. I couldnāt look away. Noises from the other bedrooms echoed and spilled. It felt decadently lewd. The combined smells of sex, sweat and smoke seeped into me. Everything, everyone was buzzing. It felt surreal, wandering voyeuristically around with a stranger but I didnāt want to leave.
We went from bedroom to bedroom like we were browsing porn videos. People were spanking one another, fucking, licking, biting, pegging, fisting and it was utterly obscene but not a soul complained. I felt like I was witnessing the depths of depravity and yet every inch of me pulsed with need. My palms were damp with sweat and when Neil stopped to kiss me, I kissed him back so hungrily that I bit his lip.
He pushed his mask up for better access and we fell through the door of another bedroom.Thankfully, the only occupant was one young woman who lay on the floor talking to herself, clearly high. The words pretty whore were written on her forehead.
Neilās mouth found mine again, his tongue darting in as his hand slipped under my skirt. I swallowed hard and he must have felt it because he pulled back and looked at me. Heād bumped up against the bed and he sat down, his eyes never leaving mine.
āYou wanna fuck? Here?ā
Oh. My. God. Over his shoulder, I could see a couple already in the doorway watching us with interest. I knew the kind of person I was. I knew the morals I had, the things I did and didnāt do. And yet, Neilās fingers were pushing past my lacy underwear and it was all I could do not to moan. Our eyes connected. My mouth was hanging open. His was smiling.
āCāmon, Elle. Donāt you wanna play with me?ā
I clenched a little desperately as his finger eased inside me. All I could follow was the progress of his fingertip as it slid out and went to push against my clit.
āI donāt ā I donāt do things like this,ā I gasped, holding onto his shoulders.
āI can see that. Thatās what makes it so much dirtier.ā
I wondered if anyone could hear us. I hoped not. There was something so very personal about talking to him while he fingered me. His eyes were still holding mine. How long had it been since Iād just let go? Every day had become a blur of menial service jobs interspersed by failed auditions. Life was nothing but work. Iād been chasing dreams so long thatmy legs had almost given out. Did it matter? Did anything matter when a guy like Neil wanted to fuck me?
A man in a tux walked in and started sketching the girl on the floor. He gave her instructions on how to arrange herself. I hoped sheād tell him to fuck off but she complied placidly, happy that someone was listening to her monologue on unicorns and Skittles.
My hands pressed against the bulge in Neilās pants. I could feel the heat even through all the layers of clothing. My fingers fumbled urgently with his belt. It didnāt take long to free his cock and I touched it without caution, making his breath catch.
Our eyes met.
āSuck it.ā
I was too far gone to refuse. My knees sank automatically to the floor and I leaned forward, taking him eagerly into my mouth. He was unbelievably hard and his hands fisted in my hair, clutching at it desperately. I tightened my lips and went further, my tongue dancing along the underside of his erection.
āItās like a ā dirty kind of beautiful,ā he growled and he pushed hard into my mouth, forcing in more inches.
He didnāt go easy and I didnāt care. I was hazily aware of more people entering the room. Two women fell onto the bed, moaning. The pretty whore girl was getting collared by the artist. But it still felt like only the two of us were in our moment. That is, until I felt my dress being pushed up.
I tried to look over my shoulder but Neil didnāt loosen his grip on my hair. Our eyes met. He held my gaze almost challengingly as someone elseās hand went between my legs and groped extravagantly. I moaned around Neilās cock and ground back. It felt too good. Far too good. My panties were dragged down and then it was skin on skin, rough fingers massaging my snatch and dragging back over my asshole.
My legs were indecently wide apart. Whoever it was could see everything. The thought made my stomach clench and my snatch surge with fresh warmth. My heart thumped. A finger teased the entrance to my asshole. I tried to look over my shoulder again but Neil held fast to my hair.
I looked up at him, my eyes watering.
āI know you want it. Let him.ā
I pulled back, breathing hard.
āWhat?ā
āYou want him to fuck your ass, donāt you?ā He looked at me like he knew every secret I had. āWant him to shove his nasty cock in there while everyone watches? You wanna take it while you gag on my cock?ā
āYouāre sick,ā I whispered, like Iād only just realised. āFucking sick.ā
He smiled and touched my cheek, his thumb pushing into my mouth.
āMaybe. But youāre not saying no. Maybe weāre both sick.ā
And maybe we were, at least for that night. I felt the spill of some kind of lube against my lower back, the cool trickle as it slipped down over my exposed asshole. I didnāt even know what the guy looked like; all I knew was his rigid cock as it pushed against my resistant hole before gaining entry. My mouth fell open and Neilās cock pushed inside again.
I got it then. Understood. Everything felt glaringly filthy but there was something addictive about the attention. The desire. About the spectators. I didnāt know them, couldnāt even look at anyone but they looked at me and it made me push back against the stranger behind me.
Everything was heat. My eyes watered and dripped as Neilās cock hit the back of my throat. He held it there, his face contorted. The stranger nudged deeper into my ass. I didnāt know how much I could take but he pushed until I could feel his balls against my snatch. Connection. The heat throbbed between us as he began to pull back. The three of us were moaning. I felt eternally grateful for the lube. It eased the friction, made the hurt ebb away until the slick slide was all I wanted.
Hands grasped my hips and dug in hard enough to leave bruises. Neilās fingers were in my hair again,controlling my movements and making me take him deeper as saliva ran down my chin. Wet. Dirty. Nasty. My hand moved unconsciously, delving beneath my dress and finding my throbbing clit.
āFucking feel it,ā Neil growled. āFeel it all, Elle.ā
Our eyes met again and I winced as the guy behind me pulled almost all the way out before pushing in hard.
āYou gonna come?ā Neilās voice taunted. āWith his cock in your ass and mine down your pretty little throat?ā
He gripped my hair and plundered in and out of my mouth. My fingers slicked against my dripping snatch. Pushing my fingers inside my entrance, I could feel the surreal slide of the strangerās cock in my ass. He mustāve felt my touch because I heard him groan and then he went harder, fucking me without restraint.
Neil came first, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he jerked deep in my mouth. I swallowed instinctively but he jerked again and by that time, Iād gone too far and was coming too hard to pay attention. His spunk dripped copiously out of my mouth and as I clenched ecstatically, the stranger cried out and jerked deep inside my ass.
I never found out what he looked like.
***
I woke at eleven the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, hurting my eyes. I blinked and looked down to discover I was still wearing my party dress. Everything hurt. Rolling over, I groaned into the pillow.
Enough.
My business exam was in under twenty-four hours. I had to nail it. It was time to move on from dreams, time to do something safe and substantial. I sat up and looked for my textbook. My purse lay on the bedside table, atop a large white envelope. Frowning, I examined it. Neil had brought me home. I could vaguely remember the ride back in his car.
Flipping over the heavy envelope, I tore it open, sliding out a sheaf of papers.
DESSICATED COCONUT
by Neil Hamilton
It was a screenplay. Neilās screenplay. A note was scribbled on the top corner of the title page.
Auditions. Monday 11a.m. 31B Lloyd Park Centre.
It was only then that I realised why Neil had seemed familiar when weād met.
Iād seen him before.
Not in real life, but as a fleeting figure in my dream.
The dream where Iād won an Oscar for a film.
A film with the same title as the screenplay in my hands.
I blinked and looked across the room at my abandoned textbook.
Heart thumping, I turned the first page of the script and began to read.
Ā