The Glorious Film Business

It was a garden party, something to do with film; one of those mill–around–and–be–seen–things where you talk to people you don’t know about nothing at all while you wait for somebody important to drift by. I’m something like the second unit’s third cameraman’s focus puller’s assistant, which makes me the one you don’t know. I got tired of hearing about nothing at all, so I drifted around the corner in search of the third unit’s fourth sound recorder’s microphone cleaner or so, hoping she was female and unattached. The woman stepped out from behind the hedge, shoes in one hand, and tall glass in the other. Unsteadiness more from the contents of the glass, or the ones before that, than from walking barefoot – it was a very smooth lawn. –Hi, she said, smiling as if I were somebody. The smile lit up a beautiful face, late thirties, perhaps, framed by wavy red hair. She wore an incredibly tight black dress, bosom to ankles, had bare arms and no jewelry. She didn’t need it. –Marina, she said, extending a hand, keeping the smile. –Jerry, I answered. –I’m the second unit’s – –Never mind, she said. –I’m just somebody’s wife. So much for luck, I thought. –Join me in a drink? –All right. I’ll get you something from the – –No, no. I’ve brought my own. She pulled a flask from a minimal purse, filled her glass and handed it to me. Straight vodka. I regained my breath and gave her the glass back. –Boring place, right? –Up till now. She smiled again. –Old lines die hard. But yeah, you’re the first human–looking creature I’ve met today too. Excuse me while I put my shoes back on. She put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, bent down and slipped her feet into the rather impractical high–heeled strap things. The fabric of her dress stretched; I could swear there was absolutely nothing underneath it. Straightening up, lifting her chest, part of my assumption was confirmed. –Drink again? I accepted, sipping carefully this time. –Are you alone? –Yes, I said. –And your… is he… –He’s probably fucking some catering girl right now, she said with a tilt of the smooth neck. –So my… she waved, –is… wave again. –Well, I said, catching on, –that makes two of us. –Bad line again. You should be the leading man in the next production. –You think our films are really so bad? –Why do they need so much time to get to the fucking, then? This film discussion was beyond anything I was used to hearing. –Beats me, I said. –What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a hedge like this? –I had to remove my tights. I peed myself waiting for the loo. Any stains on the dress? She turned around slowly, rounded buttocks moving freely under the fabric. –No, I said. –Good. But then, stains don’t show up well on black. That’s why I prefer that. Nothing on the front, either? She pushed her hips forward. I saw the small dent of her navel, the curve of her belly, the hipbones, and the shape of her mound under the dress. No stains, and I said so. –It just went down my legs, she informed me, –and I couldn’t help it. My bladder is the size of a peanut, and when I have to go, I really have to go. I was conversing with this bloke, waiting in line, and then I just felt it coming. He was staring dumbly as I walked away, legs rubbing, leaving small drops on the floor. Thank God for dark hallways. Another drink? I shook my head, and she looked grateful. –Anyway, I made it to the hedge, removed my shoes and tights, hitched up my dress and squatted. Then I heard you. –I would have loved to see you, I said. –An attractive woman peeing is a very sensual sight. –It’s a very sensual experience, too, she said. –Baring my butt, sprinkling the grass, wearing nothing under this tight dress. Like it? –Beautiful. –It’s so tight you might even be able to see my body hairs; she smiled. –Fortunately I don’t have any. She touched her mound lightly, shuddering. –Want to fuck? My tie started choking me. –Uh – where? –Tool shed. Come on.
She was right. No body hairs, all smooth lines and curves, a fit body knowing its own desires and gifts. Behind the locked doors she slid out of her dress, removed my clothing with impatient hands, and took control. She purred, cursed, moaned and screamed until we were totally exhausted. With thumping hearts we dressed, checked each other for telltale marks, and left. Outside she clung to me again, I felt her hips against me and stroked her buttocks through the dress. – I want to pee on the grass again, she whispered. We went behind the hedge. She wriggled her dress up over her hips, letting me see her beautiful naked slit where the curves of her thighs met. The smell of sex drifted to my nostrils. She sank to her haunches, spread her legs slightly, and released her stream with a sigh. When the last drops hit the grass she reached for my hand. –Please wipe me.
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