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Chapter 7 sample: Gail Hoffman, an eighteen-year-old girl from Renton, just outside Seattle, sipped from her bottle of Evian water while listening to the Assistant Director screaming at someone through the walkie-talkie on her hip. Actually screaming. That nice Englishman. At least he wasn't shouting at her, she thought. To be fair, her first ever job as a Production Assistant, or Runner, was going brilliantly well. She was loving it to death. Everyone had been helpful, the Actors and the Extras proving to be polite and accommodating. Perhaps the only negative was the inclement weather out on location, somewhere in Northern California, so she pulled her Seahawks hat down further and snuggled into her North Face fleece. It was a shame after spending so much time doing her hair and perfecting her clothes for the assignment - light green camo trousers,which said she wasn't afraid to get stuck it, but also that she had a great ass, and a white shirt that exposed her flat abdomen. She was working hard and being very conscientious, but also hoped to find a new boyfriend through this new work. A cameraman or a stuntman, perhaps.
It had been exciting, that morning, to be instructed to collect five male Extras in the VW van, and the handsome guys had all flirted with her, but the rain and cold had dampened their ardour, and a six hour wait had turned them into sullen, shuffling hulks.
She watched them, sheltering in a farmer's barn, near to where the film set had been constructed, all in their coats, and two with their hoods up, some drinking foul catering coffee, one texting his agent with a complaint, no doubt. She checked their names again on her clipboard, just in case any of them were called for individually; Justin, Ryan, Henry (with the full beard), Jake and Tom, all mid-twenties, all picked from their agency for their firm, six-foot physiques, to play soldiers. Gail grinned, looking at their bare lower legs, all fairly camp in Roman sandals. Before the coats were zipped up tight she had seen their Legionnaire tunics and muscular thighs, all self-conscious to be without trousers. It took an hour at the farm before they stopped joking with each other over the "dresses" they were wearing and relaxed into them. Gail had watched the men talk about everything from their girlfriends' problems to their favourite baseball teams, seeing their mannerisms - a subconscious scratch of the balls from one, a spit from another, some bad language, and one taking a pee against a tree. That had been Jake. The lady in the Make-Up department had needed to cover up a set of numbers on his neck, 21-7-2015, which were a tattoo celebrating the birth of his first son. Gail had been fascinated watching that being done in the Winnebago back at base, as well as watching Tom try to get used to his new e-cigarette after recently quitting smoking, and Ryan having a good stretch after getting out of the van. Not forgetting Henry pulling the legs of his Boxer shorts down his thighs to attain comfort.
Her radio crackled. Lost in her lustful reverie, she didn't realise it was for her.
"Gail!"
"Gail here. Go ahead."
"Bring the Roman soldiers onto set, please. ASAP."
"Will do!"
The rain had stopped, but all the men stepped into their Wellington boots to squelch through the mud, following after Gail. They came through a small wood to be met by a bustling film set of lights and cameras, all protected from the weather, and a film crew getting on with things, despite their own misery. The set was a Roman bath house and stable block. Bedraggled slaves lingered about. The main actors for the scene were there, talking to the Director. Gail held her group back. She looked at the track for the camera dolly which circled the set, and she knew that the main actors were arriving after a battle to soak their battered bodies. Clearly, the Director wanted to make best use of the magnificent bath house, intending to pan right around it as the actors arrived on horseback, then follow them inside, where her guys were to already be.
The Assistant Director approached Gail. He looked about twelve, but he seemed extremely competent to her, and came with a good reputation back in his native England. Although he had been the man shouting earlier, he gave her a warm smile. "Gail, it's bloody awful weather. Would you be so kind as to put your people inside? On action, tell them to let the slave girls undress them, and to only get in the water if they don't hear cut. Important, yes, darling? Don't get them all wet unless we are following through on the shot."
"Yes, sir. Got that."
"Good. You're an absolute darling."
Gail turned to her charges. They were nodding, all clear on what was required of them. A brilliant smile appeared through Henry's beard, and Ryan winked at her. In they trudged, leaving their boots out of camera shot. Jake was clapping his hands on his arms.
"At least the water's hot," pointed out Ryan.
"And the slave girls," said Henry.
One of the scantily clad slave girls grinned at them. It was not a porn movie, but was trying to be authentic and explicit.
"First positions!" called somebody.
The actors mounted their horses and rode off out of shot. Then the rain came again, causing a great deal of vile swearing, but the Director needed to get something in the can.
"Let's try for it!" called the Director. He looked at his Cameraman, "Ready, William?" A hooded form sitting beside the camera nodded at him. "Action!!"
Gail watched through a window from a distance as her men started to undress, with nubile slave girls assisting with their uniforms. But the actors didn't move, the Director's instructions lost in the downpour. Runners had to wave frantically to let the actors know it was time to go.
"Cut!" screamed the Director. "Let's go again. Harrison, get closer to the horses and watch me." A minion trotted off into position.
On the second Action the actors spurred their horses into shot, but Gail's men had missed the call and were still re-dressing and flirting with the slaves. The Director swore foully. The Assistant Director rushed to Gail's side.
"Gail," he shouted inside the hood of her coat. "Get inside there, out of sight. I'll double-click the walkie-talkie and you say action to your people."
"Yes, sir!"
Gail ran into the bath house, to be greeted with cheers by the men.
"Hush, you guys," she said, squatting down out of sight. The rain hammered on the plywood roof. It was hot in there with the steaming bath. Her men were oozing sex appeal in the tight space. Gail was quite overawed. "Listen to me for the action signal. Okay?"
Justin was trying to get a slave girl's number. Jake had wiped off the make-up on his neck and was explaining the significance of the tattoo to another girl. Gail sulked a little, jealous of the raven-haired models flirting with her men. She threw off her hood, tossed her hair a little. Then she reminded herself enough to concentrate, to listen to the radio.
The two clicks came suddenly and she gave the instruction to start. Then, from her position on the floor, Gail watched as all the soldiers were slowly undressed. Gentle female hands assisted with the removal of garments. Everyone was trying not to grin. The "dresses" came down, revealing firm buttocks, hard rib cages and strong manly legs. Only Henry let the side down by having to quickly drop his illicit Boxer shorts, but he was at the back and she was relieved not to be in trouble for that. Her eyes were like saucers. She was all agog. Five naked hunks in front of her. Ryan decided to take his sandals off, so sat right next to her, his solid, slightly hairy, abdomen folding at his hip as he bent forward, his wispy pubes at her eye level, the start of his massive cock going down to be hidden by his thigh. The other men were going into the water with their footwear on. It was Jake who happened to turn sideways first, allowing Gail a full eye-level view of his magnificent manhood. It was so thick, and his balls were hairless. Gail didn't blink. She seemed to have been forgotten down there. She was squatting amid an orgy of testosterone. Good God, she thought, as Henry cupped his scrotum protectively before stepping down into the hot bath, giggling at the temperature.
Then the actors entered the scene, talking and demonstrating sword movements to each other, as other slave girls rushed to deal with them. Ryan stood, with his ass so close to Gail's face that she could see goosebumps on his bare skin. She gasped. Justin went into the water with a splash. Then a nude Tom spotted her down there. He winked, grinned, and took his impossible six-pack into the water. Gail thought, if she worked in film and television for forty years, it would never get any better than her first job.
It had been exciting, that morning, to be instructed to collect five male Extras in the VW van, and the handsome guys had all flirted with her, but the rain and cold had dampened their ardour, and a six hour wait had turned them into sullen, shuffling hulks.
She watched them, sheltering in a farmer's barn, near to where the film set had been constructed, all in their coats, and two with their hoods up, some drinking foul catering coffee, one texting his agent with a complaint, no doubt. She checked their names again on her clipboard, just in case any of them were called for individually; Justin, Ryan, Henry (with the full beard), Jake and Tom, all mid-twenties, all picked from their agency for their firm, six-foot physiques, to play soldiers. Gail grinned, looking at their bare lower legs, all fairly camp in Roman sandals. Before the coats were zipped up tight she had seen their Legionnaire tunics and muscular thighs, all self-conscious to be without trousers. It took an hour at the farm before they stopped joking with each other over the "dresses" they were wearing and relaxed into them. Gail had watched the men talk about everything from their girlfriends' problems to their favourite baseball teams, seeing their mannerisms - a subconscious scratch of the balls from one, a spit from another, some bad language, and one taking a pee against a tree. That had been Jake. The lady in the Make-Up department had needed to cover up a set of numbers on his neck, 21-7-2015, which were a tattoo celebrating the birth of his first son. Gail had been fascinated watching that being done in the Winnebago back at base, as well as watching Tom try to get used to his new e-cigarette after recently quitting smoking, and Ryan having a good stretch after getting out of the van. Not forgetting Henry pulling the legs of his Boxer shorts down his thighs to attain comfort.
Her radio crackled. Lost in her lustful reverie, she didn't realise it was for her.
"Gail!"
"Gail here. Go ahead."
"Bring the Roman soldiers onto set, please. ASAP."
"Will do!"
The rain had stopped, but all the men stepped into their Wellington boots to squelch through the mud, following after Gail. They came through a small wood to be met by a bustling film set of lights and cameras, all protected from the weather, and a film crew getting on with things, despite their own misery. The set was a Roman bath house and stable block. Bedraggled slaves lingered about. The main actors for the scene were there, talking to the Director. Gail held her group back. She looked at the track for the camera dolly which circled the set, and she knew that the main actors were arriving after a battle to soak their battered bodies. Clearly, the Director wanted to make best use of the magnificent bath house, intending to pan right around it as the actors arrived on horseback, then follow them inside, where her guys were to already be.
The Assistant Director approached Gail. He looked about twelve, but he seemed extremely competent to her, and came with a good reputation back in his native England. Although he had been the man shouting earlier, he gave her a warm smile. "Gail, it's bloody awful weather. Would you be so kind as to put your people inside? On action, tell them to let the slave girls undress them, and to only get in the water if they don't hear cut. Important, yes, darling? Don't get them all wet unless we are following through on the shot."
"Yes, sir. Got that."
"Good. You're an absolute darling."
Gail turned to her charges. They were nodding, all clear on what was required of them. A brilliant smile appeared through Henry's beard, and Ryan winked at her. In they trudged, leaving their boots out of camera shot. Jake was clapping his hands on his arms.
"At least the water's hot," pointed out Ryan.
"And the slave girls," said Henry.
One of the scantily clad slave girls grinned at them. It was not a porn movie, but was trying to be authentic and explicit.
"First positions!" called somebody.
The actors mounted their horses and rode off out of shot. Then the rain came again, causing a great deal of vile swearing, but the Director needed to get something in the can.
"Let's try for it!" called the Director. He looked at his Cameraman, "Ready, William?" A hooded form sitting beside the camera nodded at him. "Action!!"
Gail watched through a window from a distance as her men started to undress, with nubile slave girls assisting with their uniforms. But the actors didn't move, the Director's instructions lost in the downpour. Runners had to wave frantically to let the actors know it was time to go.
"Cut!" screamed the Director. "Let's go again. Harrison, get closer to the horses and watch me." A minion trotted off into position.
On the second Action the actors spurred their horses into shot, but Gail's men had missed the call and were still re-dressing and flirting with the slaves. The Director swore foully. The Assistant Director rushed to Gail's side.
"Gail," he shouted inside the hood of her coat. "Get inside there, out of sight. I'll double-click the walkie-talkie and you say action to your people."
"Yes, sir!"
Gail ran into the bath house, to be greeted with cheers by the men.
"Hush, you guys," she said, squatting down out of sight. The rain hammered on the plywood roof. It was hot in there with the steaming bath. Her men were oozing sex appeal in the tight space. Gail was quite overawed. "Listen to me for the action signal. Okay?"
Justin was trying to get a slave girl's number. Jake had wiped off the make-up on his neck and was explaining the significance of the tattoo to another girl. Gail sulked a little, jealous of the raven-haired models flirting with her men. She threw off her hood, tossed her hair a little. Then she reminded herself enough to concentrate, to listen to the radio.
The two clicks came suddenly and she gave the instruction to start. Then, from her position on the floor, Gail watched as all the soldiers were slowly undressed. Gentle female hands assisted with the removal of garments. Everyone was trying not to grin. The "dresses" came down, revealing firm buttocks, hard rib cages and strong manly legs. Only Henry let the side down by having to quickly drop his illicit Boxer shorts, but he was at the back and she was relieved not to be in trouble for that. Her eyes were like saucers. She was all agog. Five naked hunks in front of her. Ryan decided to take his sandals off, so sat right next to her, his solid, slightly hairy, abdomen folding at his hip as he bent forward, his wispy pubes at her eye level, the start of his massive cock going down to be hidden by his thigh. The other men were going into the water with their footwear on. It was Jake who happened to turn sideways first, allowing Gail a full eye-level view of his magnificent manhood. It was so thick, and his balls were hairless. Gail didn't blink. She seemed to have been forgotten down there. She was squatting amid an orgy of testosterone. Good God, she thought, as Henry cupped his scrotum protectively before stepping down into the hot bath, giggling at the temperature.
Then the actors entered the scene, talking and demonstrating sword movements to each other, as other slave girls rushed to deal with them. Ryan stood, with his ass so close to Gail's face that she could see goosebumps on his bare skin. She gasped. Justin went into the water with a splash. Then a nude Tom spotted her down there. He winked, grinned, and took his impossible six-pack into the water. Gail thought, if she worked in film and television for forty years, it would never get any better than her first job.
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