Chapter 12

Auditions with the stars was much better than a cattle call. Most were more star character actors, the omnipresent ones in TV shows and movies. But their presence, almost always, was at a much higher level, like between a really good rock show and one done by the tightest and most confident of bands. Rather than being intimidated, Harry very much enjoyed the interactions. Especially the last group, the hot lawyers. Probably the hardest acting he ever did was playing indifference to those beautiful, sexy ladies. The last one, a Latina, who had appeared in several films in the past few years almost always as secondary characters significant to the plots, he got to flirt with after since hers was the final audition. She flirted back, all in inconsequential fun. Though he doubted it, it could possibly become more serious flirting if she were to be hired, but he’d be surprised she’d want to accept such an inconsequential and more than likely not all that well paid role.

His portion of auditioning for his future castmates ended, with Pete being involved with the next phase starting Wednesday. It was early afternoon.

“What do you want to do?” Harry asked Sam when he joined her in her car.

“What do you think I want to do?” she smirked.

“We’d probably be allowed on Frances’s set,” Harry offered.

She laughed. “How was it?”

“Pretty wild actually. Frances was amazing.”

They didn’t head to Frances’s set.

Instead they spent the rest of the day and well into the night in bed, only breaking for dinner, Harry sharing her diet food.

It wasn’t all sex though.

After she went down on him as soon as they entered her bedroom and received his first ejaculations, and then he went down on her, teasing her to two intense orgasms, the fucking commenced and resembled making love much more, with him sliding into her slowly and with lots of kissing and gazing, building to an intense last burst of passion to which their climaxes were near simultaneous.

Showering together after, she sucked him hard again and he shifted her to lean forward in front of him and pushed back into her depths. But that proved frustrating, so they dried quickly and brought things back to the bed, Harry continuing from behind, a slower than usual doggy fuck this time, his hands caressing her hanging boobs. Even with the slower speed she climaxed again and demanded he fuck her as hard as he wanted in order to get his, and three more orgasms of hers occured before that happened.

They finally ate, sitting on their damp towels, still naked. He called Peg then and talked to Chrissy as well.

“You going to play your songs for me?” he asked when the call ended.

“Only if it’s in bed,” she demanded. “I want to stay naked.”

In that way, with her Martin on her lap, she played and sang. The songs were angsty as she warned, but some were amusing too, like Randy Newman in their irony, while others had a Nick Cave edge, her voice clear and midrange and almost matter-of-fact in its simplicity. And as she had said, none were love songs.

Five songs later, she pronounced, “Enough,” and set aside her guitar on the floor and tackled him, kissing down to his growing erection and he urged her into a sixty-nine. Once readied, he shifted to the edge of the bed and she settled into his lap, feeding his cock back in, the most intimate of positions, and they rocked like that, him deep but without a lot of friction.

“Every song was good,” he told her.

“Really?”

“Really. Let me tape you?”

“Maybe when I’m not naked?” she giggled.

In the morning they woke up to Sam’s alarm, showered intimately together and dressed, and Sam dropped Harry at the Hacienda.

“Not far out of the way,” she commented.

Harry had been given the code to the Hacienda gate and let himself in. A different code let him into the side door. In his room he pulled out the urtext for his would be novel which he decided to call Everything You Want, beginning from the first journal, taking notes.

Minutes in he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he said, and a smiling Melly already in her uniform of black slacks and white short sleeve shirt asked, “Hungry?”

“Yes please,” he responded.

“Come on then.”

He followed her to her apartment. “Sissy’s folks don’t like me much and the feeling’s mutual,” she said, gesturing for him to sit. “Her mom’s the cook here, and a good one if bland. Sissy steals portions for me, so feel free to nuke them whenever you want. French toast okay?”

“Sure.”

She poured him coffee in a mug and set out a carton of half and half and a sugar dispenser. Nuking the French toast might not have been the best way to treat them, but they remained edible. Melly sat with him and they ate.

“How free are you for me to utilize your services?” Harry asked.

“You sure don’t sound like an ex-con,” Melly snorted.

“Probably why I was called Doc,” Harry shrugged.

“I am extremely free. Mostly Sissy utilizes me for snooty cocktail parties and appearances. She prefers driving herself as does her folks. I bus the kids to school, which I’ve done, so I’m up early. But mostly I’m a kept woman,” she chuckled.

“Kids?”

“Two before she kicked the jackass out and managed to get a quarter of his funds. He’s a producer with old money and a taste for new pussy. She waived child support because she makes a ton of money herself. She’s got one kid’s graduating high school this year, and the other’s a sophomore. They’re good kids for having good looks and being spoiled. I mostly see them when I’m driving them. You look like you work out.”

“I do.”

“There’s a work out room in the basement, or if you like swimming, there’s a pool in the back.”

“Swimming sounds good.”

“You just want to see me in a swim suit.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he chuckled.

“Let’s work out first to digest the food and then swim.”

“Sounds good.”

“Change when you’re done eating and I’ll meet you at the side entrance.”

“Okay.”

He put on sweatpants over his trunks and a t shirt. She wore spandex shorts and a midriff exposing tight top, her slim, firm belly made obvious.

“Where’s your swimsuit?” she asked.

“Under the pants.”

“There’s a cabin by the pool.”

“Of course.”

He ran a treadmill and then a step machine, the latter while carrying and lifting small weights. She stayed on a weight machine working her entire body.

She put on a red one piece for swimming which formed to her body and exposed her entire ass. It was almost like she could have been naked, though, except for her mound, her genitals, her slit specifically, wasn’t visible. Her nipples jutted most becomingly though once she swam. Any hardness at the sight of her he managed to keep at a minimum perhaps in respect to her and her lesbian nature.

“If I was into men, I think I’d be into you,” she commented.

“Thanks,” he chuckled.

“Men...” she started.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Like I said, Sissy saved me. I was sixteen when I ran to her. I could tell she was interested even with the way I was then, battered and bruised and scared, and she got me tutors so I could speak and read English. Their driver then was gay luckily, so he trained me too, in driving and vehicle maintenance. I married him for my green card, divorced him when I became an American citizen.”

“Sissy...”

“She’s my savior even with her lusting after me. It helped we were compatible.”

“Your mistress making you mistress.”

“I call her Little Miss. She calls me Mel, the more masculine name appropriate. She likes girls, but likes getting fucked.”

“Understood.”

“You may get a visit from her.”

“I wouldn’t mind. Would you?”

“Me scolding her? That’s part of the dynamics.”

“Makes sense.”

“My domination is just for sex. She’s my boss and her own boss.”

“About her visiting me? I may have company.”

“The casting director?”

“Sam? No, she’s got her own place. This one’s from Houston, but she’s got vacation and I thought she could stay here with me.”

“Sissy might be disappointed.”

“Enough to kick her out?”

“Sissy’s not like that. Her visiting you would be occasional. Maybe there could be negotiations.”

“I don’t know if Yolanda is bisexual.”

“I hope not, she’s mine as far as being with women. Frances is an exception because they’re old friends, sort of grandfathered in.”

“I’d be visiting Sam too, so maybe Yolanda would be cool with me being with Sissy. It may not even be a done deal. I should call Yolanda.”

“She waiting on you? You should call her.”

They showered and dried separately. “You should leave your suit here,” Melly chuckled, wearing another outfit, athletic shorts and a tank top, continuing to look sexy.

“All I have is my sweaty workout clothes.”

Melly tossed Harry a robe. “Just strip off,” she said, and noticing Harry’s half hard condition, commented, “Yeah I’d do you,”

“Thanks. And if you don’t mind me saying...”

“No shit,” she laughed.

She followed him to his room, watching him grab his smartphone off its charger and call Yolanda. She looked at his research while he talked.

“Hi, it’s Harry,” he told Yolanda.

“I’m in town,” Yolanda told him.

“That’s great! You at a hotel?”

“Yep.”

“You booked there for some days?”

“Just through tonight.”

“Probably best since it’s probably after check out already. You can stay with me if you want.”

“I want, but we’ll see how it goes.”

“Of course. Which hotel?”

She told him.

“I’ll pick you up as soon as possible.”

“Great! See you then!”

When he ended the call, Melly asked, “You’re a writer, right?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Frances says you draw. Would you draw me?”

“I’d like that.”

“Nude?”

“If you want.”

“Frances mentioned you drew her and some girl.”

“Chrissy,” Harry nodded.

“Can I see?”

“I gave it to Frances.”

“You didn’t record it?”

“Record it?”

“Take a picture of it with your smartphone or copy it with a copier.”

“I’m essentially illiterate about those things.”

“I noticed you don’t have a laptop.”

“I’m waiting for someone who knows how things work.”

“I can help with that. Let’s pick up your girl and go shopping.”

“Sounds good.”

“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the garage.”

“Yes Mel.”

She snorted a laugh. “You wish!”

She’d put on her uniform. He wore what Sam had recommended, black slkacks and a black short sleeved shirt. “I’d do you,” Melly repeated.

“You keep repeating that.”

“Just teasing you.”

“You sure?”

Melly sighed. “Yes Harry. Not all lesbians want to be saved by a cock despite the fantasy.”

“Sorry. Truth is, my lovers at home are bisexual, my main lover on the lesbian side, so I guess that’s where that comes from. And the fact you’re hot.”

“Apology accepted,” Melly chuckled.

Harry found Yolanda in the lobby of the hotel sitting with her luggage, her lovely grin greeting him.

“I need to shop before we head to where I’m staying,” he told her.

“Couldn’t we go straight there?” she pouted, and leaning into him, whispered, “I’m fucking horny.”

“You still have your room, right?”

She showed him her key card. “Just in case.”

“Give me a minute then.”

“To park your car?”

“To tell my driver. If you don’t mind an audience.”

“Harry, you want some guy joining us?”

“No, sorry. She’s a woman.”

“You want her to join too?”

“She’s lesbian, so no. We’re getting off on the wrong foot. I just didn’t want her waiting outside.”

“She could wait in the lobby.”

“I’ll go talk to her.”

Melly laughed when he told her. “I’m used to waiting,” she said.

He rushed back in. “Let’s go,” he said.

“I’ll have them hold my bags,” Yolanda told him. “Meet me at the elevators.”

She let the first one go when a couple were also waiting for an elevator. The next one they rode up alone. She immediately pulled him into a kiss. “Catch me,” she giggled, and hopped into his arms. He held her firm medium full ass, enjoying the feel of it while pushing her against the wall of the elevator, their genitals crushed together while they French kissed. The chime of the elevator reaching her floor ended it. Her room ended up nearest to the elevator. “Hold this,” she said, handing Harry a condom packet from her purse. She immediately stripped while Harry pulled down the bed covers, Harry witnessing perfection revealed, a sort of Aristotelean perfection in its moderation of size. He even thought her coloring, coffee with creamer, had a kind of perfection.

“Get naked, Harry,” she pouted, bouncing on the bed. She watched when he did, fingers playing at her pussy and nipple. “I knew it,” she crooned when his cock bounced free. “Cover it and fuck me.”

“Nope,” Harry grinned. “Not till I get a taste.”

“If you must,” she giggled.

She was definitely well prepared to get fucked, as wet and hot as Harry had encountered before starting cunnilingus. He didn’t need to bother adding nipples to his efforts since she pulled on the darkest flesh of her light brown body, Harry noticing the pressure on the slim quarter inch thimbles being somewhere between harsh and gentle. Her clit was the largest he’d encountered and sensitive, the first lick making her shiver, so direct attack wouldn’t be the plan. More teasing and the occasional lap.

She squirmed and moaned, some of the moans with words letting him know to continue what he did, and as she climbed to the heights, he added fingers rubbing her g spot soon sending her over, arching and shaking and keening her pleasure, Harry enjoying the extra juices, not a gush, but substantial.

Easing back before beginning again, she murmured, “Please.” He remembered the awaiting Melly and rolled on the condom and moistened the glans with her abundant natural lubricant and pushed in. “Yes!”

Not as tight as Chrissy, but few were, in a way it was the perfect pressure, more perfection, friction without worrying about expanding her too much, and it gave him no qualms about pushing deep in one slow thrust. That she aided it, hands on his ass and legs gripping his thighs confirmed her acceptance.

They ground together for a while and kissed, tongues playing in his mouth. When he finally began the long strokes, adding more grinding at each impact, that broke the kiss, letting her pant and express her pleasure, curses and yeses. His mouth free, he finally got to taste her nipples, both his hands aiding the effort there. Her breasts, on the small side, less than a handful but by not all that much, didn’t have the resilience of Chrissy’s or even Peg’s in her fullness, on the squishy side, but that had it’s own uniqueness which Harry enjoyed. And he could tell she took great pleasure in his sucking, nipping and pulling on her nipples, sensitive but able to take some pressure.

It didn’t take long for her to cum again, intensely, and her pulling him into her kept him still, enabling his cock to feel the milking ripples caused by her orgasm which ended up being successful milking him of his semen, and feeling all of it, from the pressure in his balls signaling its arrival, to the throbbing release alleviating that pressure, all those millions of spermatozoa rushing forth through his cock, created an orgasm easily matching hers.

“Fuck,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

He extracted his dwindling cock and she followed him into the bathroom, watching him flush the condom down the toilet while she turned on the shower. They washed off their sweat and her sexual fluids with the occasional kiss, but not dallying.

“So far so good,” she grinned.

The Bentley awaited them at the drop off/pick up circle, probably permitted to stay by the valets checking it out, one at Melly’s window probably trying to chat her up. He moved aside and watched her ass when she opened the back doors for Harry and Yolanda and placed Yolanda’s bags in the boot.

“Ready to shop?” Melly asked once Harry and Yolanda settled in.

“Now I am,” Yolanda giggled. “Sign of the Times?”

“Yep.”

Harry noticed Yolanda never asked permission for what she played, but she didn’t choose her preferred punk either and she kept the volume down.

She drove into LA traffic while they chatted amiably.

“A beautiful car,” Yolanda commented.

“My mistress has beautiful taste,” Melly purred.

“Mistress?”

“She’s...” Harry started.

“Let it be a surprise, Harry,” Melly interrupted. “Stewardesses are prone to gossip.”

“Not me,” Yolanda muttered. “I hate that shit. I admit I could be as bad as the others until I realized it was about me. I used to room with some bitches who I finally found out were fucking my man and were like giggling at me. My only real friend finally told me, and I got my own place. Believe me, I can keep things to myself.”

“Even your friend need not know.”

“Promise. She knows about my impetuous move on Harry, and was surprised but supportive. She knows how...”

“Horny you can be?” Melly filled in.

“Yeah. Early on I’d pull that move that I did with Harry, to only infrequent satisfaction, but it had been years. I’ve managed to have a series of boyfriends and even fuck buddies in between. Circumstances, and Harry actually, made me want some...”

“Fresh cock?”

“Yep,” Yolanda laughed.

“Like I keep telling Harry, I don’t blame you.”

“She does,” Harry chuckled.

“Purely teasing because I’m exclusively lesbian. You bi at all?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“She’s exclusive with her mistress,” Harry explained.

“The secret,” Melly emphasized.

“Promise.”

“It’ll still be a surprise, mostly because I need to discuss it with my mistress. It’s possible we might keep it a secret.”

“I understand.”

“Good. She likes being careful.”

“Shit,” Harry thought, unfortunately speaking it too.

“What?” Yolanda asked.

“I should call Tom,” Harry lied, instead realizing his sister might feel the same way as Sissy, in fact it was likely she would.

“Whalen?” Yolanda asked.

“It can wait.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re here to get to know each other.”

“Sounds good,” said Melly. “You’re accent?”

“New Orleans,” and Melly and Harry encouraged Yolanda to talk.

Melly parked beside a warehouse in an old warehouse area across from the slab of concrete that is the Los Angeles River.

“Will the Bentley be safe here?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Melly pointed at a camera. She buzzed and the door opened. She entered a door on the left and Harry and Yolanda followed. It was a retail electronics place, but as casual as any Harry could imagine. A couple kids, less than ten, were sitting on a long cushion playing a video game. A rack of servers sat beside a rack of mini computers. Glass display cases held jeweled smartphones, tablets and laptops as if they were valued gems.

A darkly complexioned thick Hispanic woman with an unkempt Afro and a flowery muumuu moved from behind the case and embraced Melly. They spoke rapid Spanish, Melly gesturing at Harry. “Harry, meet Bea,” the two shaking hands.

“You want something simple,” Bea spoke mellifluously. “A word processor. A scanner. You are an actor, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you wish to record yourself like a mirror, for a show, a movie, an audition or maybe even with another actor. Practice, yes?”

“What about recording a musical performance?” Harry got into the spirit of things, remembering Sam. “Something like a video demo I guess.”

“This is more complicated, editing sounds. Horst can give you the rudiments, and you can get on his channel for tutorials.”

“Channel?”

“Like in YouTube?” Melly said.

“They have channels like television?” Harry asked.

“YouTube like your television?”

“Clever.”

“He’s been in limbo,” Melly explained.

“You customize computers,” Harry guessed.

“And peripherals,” Bea nodded. “And software of course. Mel said you’re an artist?”

“I draw.”

“Sketchbook?”

“Yes. 11 by 14.”

“And just pencil.”

“Yes.”

“Give me a minute.” She stepped back and disappeared.

“What is this place?” Harry asked, moving so he could discover Bea’s trick, and noticing one of the black walls recessed.

“Queen Bea is a genius at tech design, hardware to Horst’s genius at software. Of course being a black woman...”

“Of course.”

“Horst’s family does metal stamping, the detailed kind, with microscopic specs. Horst was sent to America from Austria to find companies who could utilize the family business, but Horst only cares about software and was nearly disowned until he met Bea in a nerd shop, the fixers of computers? They fell in love with each other and their ideas. That she’s black didn’t help him with his family, but her ideas won them over.

“What they do is customize for their clients, which means anything from cheap and efficient for poor kids to rich and exotic for famous rappers and notorious gangsters.”

“The bling,” Harry nodded, gesturing to the cabinets.

“Yes. Since you’re neither, and I mentioned you’re somewhat itinerant, or at least that you travelled here, I think she’ll fix you up with slim and easily transportable.”

And as if on cue, Bea appeared carrying a remarkably slim black laptop atop a slightly thicker and much longer and wider black scanner.

“Unless you want something in color. We have pink, green, blue and metallic,” Bea offered.

“Black is fine,” Harry responded.

“I figured. The cool type. Grab the scanner for me?”

He moved behind the counter and lifted the scanner. It had some weight to it, but was actually lighter than he thought it would be. He followed her through the dark passage to a room full of gadgets, mostly of the recording type, like cameras and mics and multiple track recording desks. She set the laptop down on a long table. “Just set it here,” she said, tapping the surface next to her.

Lifting the widescreen top to the laptop, a sumptuous view of an island beach appeared, along with a prompt for a login name. “What would you like to call yourself?” Bea asked.

“Pegasus,” Harry decided.

She typed it in. “Stand here,” she said, and when he did, a flash happened and his lower face and chest emerged as an image.

Bea chuckled. “You best lower yourself,” she said.

He did and the flash happened again showing his face.

“Press your right thumb on that pad,” she pointed to a space beside a flat area.

When he did, a desktop appeared with a few icons. “This is our own operating system, QB 3. It’s similar to Microsoft and Apple, only safer. Completely compatible. There’s a backdoor only Horst can access. You’ll have the best protection available done by a group of hackers in Hungary. It’s installed with Microsoft office which we’ll register to you. Internet through a proprietary operating system, and this black dot,” she pointed. “The proverbial dark web, access to all kinds of nasty things, and interesting research or paranoia depending how you take it. Normally the NSA would light up if you access much of it, but like I said, you’re protected. When Horst is free, he’ll set you up, add any software programs needed like access to the scanner, and any peripherals like a better camera and microphone than the laptop has, though it’s not bad. I’ll just need your card and your license.”

Harry handed her what she asked from his wallet. She disappeared up front. She came back. “You need to put in your PIN number.” Fortunately Peg had advised him of that already and he had one, the first four of his prisoner number, a number he’d never forget. He returned to the back area.

“How about if me and Yolanda get us lunch?” Melly asked.

“Okay,” said Harry, a bit stunned.

“It’s okay Harry,” Melly chuckled, patting his shoulder. “You can trust her. Gangsters do, and they don’t trust anyone.”

“Okay.”

Harry pulled out his smartphone intending to call Tom, but got no signal.

“Faraday cage,” said a small very white man with a heavy German accent emerging from a room behind him. His short spiked blond hair, nearly white, reminded him of Billy Idol in his hit days. He did a series of moves with a much bigger black man, wearing black like Harry, but much more fitted. Horst, Harry presumed, wore a t shirt advertising a band Harry didn’t know and blue jeans. The black man headed towards the back and through a heavy door.

“I’m Horst,” Horst said.

“Harry,” Harry replied.

Horst nodded and didn’t accept Harry’s handshake. Bea came back and handed Horst Harry’s cards and some flash drives and returned up front.

“Let’s get you registered and hooked up,” Horst said.

“I’m computer retarded I’m afraid,” Harry admitted.

“That’s why I’m here,” Horst chuckled.

It took a while for Horst to patiently get Harry somewhat computer literate, interrupted by lunch and for some calls Horst took pressing some button on a small device attached to his ear.

“I thought you said this is a Faraday cage,” Harry asked after the first call.

“I have a proprietary signal, really an internal signal that accesses something outside the Faraday. I imagine you can understand my caution.”

“Your previous client.”

“Yes.”

By the end, Harry had bought a microphone and a small klieg light for recording Sam. He thought the camera in the laptop did fine for what they needed. Working on sound editing would take more time, and Harry subscribed to Horst’s channel. All in all, Harry spent a considerable amount of money, nearly two and a half thousand, but for what he got, including the tutelage, he thought it worth it. Best of all he had more than enough not to worry about the expense.

“Do you have the original packaging for the scanner?” Harry asked at the conclusion. “I don’t imagine bringing it to the airport.”

“I have something even better,” Horst grinned and exited through double doors at the back, Harry glancing through and finding a fairly large warehouse space. Horst returned with what looked like a small blow up mattress. “Self-contained bubble wrap,” Horst explained. “The outer surface is a lot tougher than cardboard.”

“Thanks.”

“You just slip the address in here,” Horst showed Harry the transparent rectangle with an opening. “You can use Word to create the address.”

“Great.”

“Isn’t she? Bea’s design.”

“What’s the name of the company?” Harry asked.

“Queen Bea Enterprises of course,” Horst handed Harry a card. “My number if you have any questions. A dark web address. We do have what you might call a legitimate address, so that inner city schools and community organizations can have access to affordable computers.”

“Very cool.”

“Yes she is.”

Harry looked at the logo, a chubby bee with an Afro.

When Harry finally emerged from the back, he saw Melly and Yolanda playing a video game coached by the kids.

“Ready?” he asked, burdened by packages.

“Just ... Damnit,” Melly moaned.

“I win again!” Yolanda crowded, high fiving the younger kid.

“Oh, sorry, let me help with that,” said Melly in driver mode. She took the smaller items. Kissing Bea’s cheek while Bea held the door, Melly slid past as did Yolanda who held open the outer door.

“Thanks Bea,” said Harry.

“Don’t mention it. Literally.”

“Got it.”

“But anything else you need ... Horst gave you his card.”

“He did.”

Bea nodded and smiled.

The boot filled up with Harry’s new stuff.

Once settled in, Harry offered, “How about a fancy meal, I’m buying, for being patient and for your amazing recommendation, Melly, and for your company, Yolanda.”

“I know somewhere better than fancy,” said Melly.

“You’ve done well so far,” Harry chuckled. “So how did you meet Bea?”

“At the nerd shop where she still worked, though recommending clients away from the place that didn’t last much longer. I brought in Mistress’s crap computer to be fixed. She recommended junking it instead and asked about the limit of my finances and I told her none. She wrote me a receipt for just salvaging the hard drive and told me to come back at closing. I think we bonded just in our characters jiving, but speaking Spanish probably helped. Her wink told me to trust her, that it would be to my or my mistress’s benefit to trust her. Mistress had a top of the line Mercedes then, the Bentley, an upgrade, came a couple years later. I drove her to the warehouse, Bea telling me she preferred the luxury to her beat up Chevy truck. I bought Mistress a smaller and much better computer and a better monitor and me a practical laptop and a blinged out phone which since has been upgraded a few times. I guess all of them have. Did you notice she’s pregnant again?”

“How many kids?”