Let’s check on that audition you did

“You said you auditioned for a part a couple of weeks ago, so why don’t we find out how that went? Maybe I can move it along in the process.”

Tess looks at me with disbelief. “Seriously? You would do that?”

“Why not? We reward quick thinking around here. Besides, I have reason to believe in your talent,” I say, checking myself in the mirror. Between Tess and Dedra, I’ve had two different sets of lips on my shaft in the past 30 minutes. If this is what being the boss is like, I’m so glad I decided to go in the family business!

“And as long as we’re doing that, why don’t we check on Sally, as well? She’s still waiting for her big break, isn’t she? It looks like we owe her, too, for taking you in hand the way she has.”

Tess is beaming. “Oh, that’s wonderful! She will be so thrilled!”

I ask Tess to come with me to the Personnel Office, where I ask her to have a seat while I speak with the person in charge of auditioning new talent. His name is Virgil Gearman. He looks up Tess’s name on the computer and reads her file.

“Here it is,” he says. “I didn’t actually conduct that audition, myself. I was recovering from throwing my back out after auditions for the film about the college women’s wrestling team. It looks like one of my assistants auditioned her and said she definitely fits the profile in terms of looks, body shape, and flexibility, but apparently she’s quite shy.”

Shy? That hardly describes my experience with Tess! If she were any less shy, she wouldn’t have waited for Cayden to leave the room before gobbling my crank.

Virgil senses my confusion. “‘Shy’ just means that she seems too aware of the camera and too tense. There’s a copy of her audition here if you want to see for yourself.”

I pull up the audition on a television screen and see a casting couch. Tess is sitting there, looking a bit nervous. I hear a male voice asking her questions, trying to get information and attempting to relax her.

The notes in the file are accurate. This isn’t the Tess I met less than an hour ago, who was so at ease with blowing me on our first meeting that I barely had time to think about it before she had my pants around my ankles.

The interviewer steps from behind the camera and stands next to Tess. He says, “Why don’t we see what you can do, huh?” When Tess doesn’t respond, he begins undoing his pants and then gently turns Tess’s face from the camera toward his crotch. Mechanically, Tess reaches into his underwear and withdraws his penis and begins pumping it, but her facial expression is one of panic, and she cannot take her eyes off the camera.

“OK, I’ve seen enough,” I say. “So she has camera fright. Any way we can get her over that?”

Virgil thinks for a moment and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, she’s not alone in that respect. Almost all of them have to get over it, and most are never able to — particularly guys. We get all these guys who want to be in our films, thinking they will get to nail the most beautiful women in the industry, but they simply can’t get it up when the lights and camera are on. There’s some conditioning that helps, but we don’t spend a lot of time dealing with that because there are plenty more to choose from. It’s a shame, though, about her,” he says, motioning to the screen where the video has been paused, showing Tess looking awkwardly straight at the camera, while holding a penis. It almost looks like she has touched one for the first time and is having a panic attack. “She’s definitely hot, and she could go far, but it would take a lot of work with her to get her to look comfortable.”

I ponder the irony that this woman spends her day giving expert blowjobs to actors on a set, keeping them hard, despite all the distractions, but she herself gets too distracted by the camera.

As I consider this, my eyes take in the office. I see several framed posters of Cum On Productions films — all of which are autographed by stars of that film. Virgil follows my gaze and smiles proudly. “These are all my discoveries,” he proclaims. Each of these stars got started right on the couch where you are sitting!”

I glance down uncomfortably to the couch. Virgil laughs and says, “Don’t worry; it’s stain resistant, and it gets cleaned every evening.”

I get up and take a closer look at the posters. I am familiar with almost all of the films, having had access to pre-release versions for a number of years. The autographed names read like a Who’s Who of the adult entertainment world. Linda Lovecum, Caprice Vixen, Chantelle de la Voom.... Names, faces, and bodies that are so well known to me that it’s hard to imagine that once they were each scared, aspiring women, auditioning in this room.

I see Xavier Porcumax’s autograph and look quizzically at Virgil. He follows my thinking and says, “No, I just audition the women. We have others who do the guys — I’m just a big fan of Xavier, so I had him sign.”

Some of the productions are quite well known, and some went on to receive awards. There are others, however, that are less known to me. I look at the poster for “Really Big Brother.” It has Cymba Channing’s autograph, and while I definitely know about her, I’m not familiar with that film.

“That one didn’t make us a lot of money,” Virgil explains, “but it more than paid for itself, and it was really several years ahead of its time. It was ‘reality tv’ before such a thing was common. We put a bunch of young people — strangers to each other — in a house for a month and recorded everything they did. We edited together all the sex scenes and made it look like it was a nonstop sexual adventure. That’s where we discovered Cymba. She was just going to do this one project for us to make some money for college, but she was a natural, and we ended up signing her to a long-term contract.”

A light bulb comes on over my head. “So you recorded it all, but the cameras were on automatic?”

“Yeah... most of the time they didn’t even know whether the camera was on or not. Pretty soon they just forgot about them altogether. It was a lot of long, boring work, scanning through hours or tedious stuff, just to find a few seconds of someone undressing, showering, or — after a few days — fucking, but in the end we had a production that I was pretty proud of. And I’m certainly proud of discovering Cymba.”

“Maybe that’s the answer for Tess,” I say. “We could set up a house like that again, and this time, cameras are so small that we can have them all over the place and no one would even know it is there. If Tess gets camera shy, let’s make the camera invisible!”

Virgil is on his feet, rifling through some papers on his desk. “You know, that might work. I got this memo just the other day to be on the lookout for some high-libido amateurs to be in a college party scene. I don’t think they’ve gone too far down the road in developing that yet, so you might talk to Ideas and see what they can do.”

I thank Virgil and start to the door, when I remember something. I stop and ask, “Do you know a fluffer here by the name of Sally?”

Virgil types something on his computer and pulls up a name. “You must mean Sally Baxter. Yes, she’s worked here for a number of years. Look like she has auditioned more than once, too. Let me pull up her picture.”

A few more clicks of the button and I am looking at that face I last saw at the Christmas party at our house. I mainly saw the top of her head, because she was hard at work, trying to convince the bosses’ son that she had talent.

“Yes, that’s her. What’s the holdup on her audition?”

“I remember her,” says Virgil. “Yes, she’s another one who looks promising, but is way too shy.”

Again, the term throws me off. This ‘shy’ girl had enough guts to pull my 16-year-old self away from my parents’ party and give me one of the best blowjobs of my young life right behind the Christmas tree.

“So we have another case of the camera being the problem,” I conclude. “I’ve got some ideas I’m going to follow up on. Thanks for your help.”

I leave Virgil and return to the Personnel Office waiting area. I see Tess, deeply engaged in a conversation with a nervous man who is attempting to fill out an application while Tess has her hand on his knee and is describing what, exactly, a fluffer does all day.

She sees me and looks up expectantly. I am excited about the possibilities, but I don’t want to get her hopes up unfairly. Maybe I should wait to tell her my ideas until I know whether I can pull it off.