The Handjob

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Rebecca felt silly. Exposed.

The dress was beautiful. That was the annoying thing.

Sage green, with a delicate pattern of little ivory flowers, fluttering sleeves and a ribbon tied neatly at her waist. It was exactly the sort of thing she might have picked out for herself.

Except for the neckline.

She'd tried adjusting it three times already, but no matter how she pulled at the fabric, it seemed determined to show rather more of her chest than she was comfortable with. And the skirt, while perfectly respectable when she stood still, had an unfortunate habit of revealing her knees whenever she sat down.

Richard would have a fit.

She looked at herself in the mirror again.

The worst part was that she liked it.

The dress had been waiting for her outside her door, neatly folded in plastic wrap, with a note.

From Mike,

We tried to get something in your style, this was the best I could do.

Shoots at 1pm today. Let me know if you can't make it.

Hope you can.

As she read the note, it felt like the decision had already been made for her. Richard couldn't say no to the money, but could she?

She called Mike, and told him she would be at the shoot. As she bumbled something about talking to James about it on set, and how she might not go through with it, he'd told her it was great and he'd see her there.

Breakfast was hard to swallow. She stuck to her yogurt and granola, washed down with a peppermint tea.

She had to get outside. She had to breathe.

The driver followed her without a word. Every time she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw that he was keeping a respectable distance. His presence was a comfort when she noticed the way that men were looking at her.

This stupid dress, she thought, as she saw two men openly ogling her. This is so silly. I should go home.

But then she thought about Richard. How stressed he had been about money, and how annoyed he'd be if she returned empty handed.

It's just hand stuff.

She didn't entertain the idea of lunch. She had a coffee at noon, then met the driver shortly after to be taken to the shoot. As the car pulled up beside the same house she closed her eyes and took some breaths.

"Just some hand stuff," she whispered to herself. "It's a lot of money."

The car door opened and Mike stood, waiting for her.

"Sweetheart, you look stunning," he said as his eyes devoured her cleavage. "James is excited to see you again."

"He is?" she asked. "Did he say anything?"

"Oh yeah. He thought you were great, said he loved working with you. Now, it's the same deal as yesterday. Happy family, just you two in the house. Sound good?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Better than an audience."

The door loomed ahead of her. Half of her wanted to run far away, the other was desperate to see what was beyond it.

And the first half didn't really have a say in the matter.

She was already here.

James was respectful. She'd have plenty of time inside to change her mind.

She strode past Mike with confidence and straight up to the door, not asking permission to step inside

---

"I just don't understand what kind of TV show this is," she said as she paced the bedroom. "What channel would even show this stuff?"

James sat at the end of the bed, hands clasped. Watching her patiently.

"I know what you mean," he replied. "I had the same thought."

She stopped pacing and looked at him. "So tell me what we have to do again."

"Well, you're supposed to sit here." He patted the seat beside him. "And then, well, have you ever heard of a hand job before?"

"No." She folded her arms over her chest.

James thought a moment. "You know how during sex, the penis goes in and out--"

"Ugh! I can figure it out, James. You don't have to explain it to me like I'm five."

"Sorry." He held a hand up defensively. "So in adult terms, you'd have to pleasure my penis with your hand. Is that better?"

She shrugged her shoulders, arms still folded. "No."

"You don't have to do it."

"I know I don't have to."

Except she wasn't entirely sure that was true.

Fifteen thousand dollars. Richard had reminded her what that would mean for the family. Six months without worrying about the bills. Six months without seeing that disappointed expression on his face whenever she mentioned money.

That was why she'd come.

Wasn't it?

She looked at James. He was watching her patiently, waiting for an answer.

And there was something else, something she didn't particularly want to acknowledge. She'd been thinking about him ever since yesterday. About how kind he'd been. About how different she'd felt when he'd kissed her.

She couldn't honestly say she was here only because of the money.

"But..." She shook her head. "I want to do it. Okay? I want to at least try."

As she said the words, she realized she was being honest.

"So. Do you just get it out, or..."

"Mike wants an establishing shot like last time." He pointed. "You stand there, just in front of me. Looking as pretty as ever."

"Fine."

She moved to stand in position, looking at the same camera as the day before.

Then, she turned to James and gestured for him to move up.

"Make some room," she ordered. "I'm not sitting on your lap."

He laughed and shuffled along, allowing her to sit beside him, where she stared down at her own lap.

"Rebecca?"

She looked up.

"Before we start, there's something I want you to understand."

"What?"

"If you want to stop, just tell me. You don't have to explain yourself."

She considered him for a moment.

"Even if we're halfway through filming?"

"Even then."

"And you won't be angry?"

He looked surprised.

"Of course not."

She nodded, feeling a little foolish for having asked.

"Alright, then."

She looked down at her hands.

"Let's get on with it before I lose my nerve."

The smell of his cologne was already filling her nostrils and wiping her mind. She could taste his lips again, could feel his...

"Let's just do it," she said at last. Looking to meet his eyes. "If I don't like it, we can stop at any moment."

"That's right."

James's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her closer.

"Are you not going to, you know. Get it out?" she asked, shyly. Eyes glued back to her lap.

"Mike said it would be better if you did it," he said quietly. "Take your time."

She slowly allowed her eyes to glide across to his lap, to the bulge in his trousers.

God, he's so well dressed, she thought. And he smells so good.

She reached and began to undo the front of his trousers. As she struggled to peel them down, he sat up slightly, allowing her to pull them down to his knees. He helped her with his boxers, pulling them slowly down -- finally, his waxed, flaccid cock bounced free from them.

"Oh my," she said. "I've never..."

"Never seen one other than your husbands?"

She laughed nervously. "Honestly... I haven't really seen my husbands. When we have sex..."

"I remember. In bed, he'll roll you over and have his way with you." She could see him smile in her peripheral. "Well, what do you think?"

"What do I have to do?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"You just wrap your fingers around it and gently stroke, up and down."

She closed her eyes and reached a hand out, and she did just that. Grasping his thick warmth, and gently moving her hand. It didn't feel as strange as she imagined, and when she felt it harden, a familiar feeling arrived in her chest, and between her legs.

"That's good. You're doing well."

His encouragement felt oddly arousing. Her heart fluttered, and soon, he was getting hard in her hands.

"Do I just keep doing it like this?" she asked.

"You can try other things. Like.."

With his spare hand he grabbed his testicles and gently squeezed them. "Play with them, just like that."

"Like this?" she asked.

"That's it. You got it."

As he hardened it became easier to stroke him, and as it became easier to stroke him, she grew in confidence. To her surprise, it just kept going, and going, until finally she found her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open.

"It's huge," she whispered.

"Don't worry about how long it is, Becky. You just keep doing what you're doing."

"How long do I have to do this for?"

"Getting bored already?"

She looked into his eyes, then back down at his member.

She shook her head.

"Just try to enjoy the moment. If you want to kiss again, you can."

She looked at him again, and for a moment she wanted to. His hard member throbbed in her hand, her own sex throbbed -- but she couldn't do that. Could she?

"Will you warn me if you're going to finish?" she asked. Worried about ruining his nice suit.

"Oh, Becky." He laughed. "There's no risk of that."

"What do you mean?" She was surprised. Her husband normally put it in her, then after a few thrusts he was done. "Does it not feel as good as sex?"

"Exactly, it doesn't feel anywhere near as good as sex. Plus, it normally takes a lot for me to cum."

She nodded, fully believing him. Her eyes trailed down to his member, and she felt transfixed by it. If she had to estimate, it was almost twice as thick as her husband's, and definitely twice as long.

"I'm surprised you can think with all the blood down here."

"I am finding it hard to think, honestly."

She looked into his face again, and he gazed into her eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

She simply nodded in response.

The kiss was just like the day before. It started slow, a brief peck, and quickly turned into something more. Her chest pressed into his, and his mouth began to open. She matched him, open-mouthed kissing and even exchanging tongues as she tried to concentrate on stroking him.

"Fuck," he whispered into her mouth. He rutted slightly, cock sliding faster in her hand.

"Are you going to cum?" she asked, a word she had never spoken before, a sentence she never had to even think.

"No." He kissed her lips once more. "It just felt really good. I like kissing you, Becky."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because it's cute, and you're cute."

Her hand was still around his member, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade.

"Can I stop now?"

"Of course."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Have we got enough footage?"

"Oh." James glanced away for a moment, as though remembering something. "Yeah. Mike said we had enough before we started kissing."

She blinked. "Before?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me?"

He looked genuinely embarrassed.

"Rebecca, I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

"Carried away?"

"I was enjoying myself. I wasn't really thinking about the cameras."

She stared at him.

He was enjoying himself?

That hadn't occurred to her.

She'd assumed he was simply being nice because it was his job.

to be continued...

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