Giran licks his lips as he scrutinises your placement on the small monitor before staring back at you, sitting so perfectly upright on the couch, waiting for instructions. It sends a shiver right to his cock, so he sits back down again, adjusting his length, only half discreetly, before reaching for another cigarette to light up.

"Why don't you give us a few emotions; sad, angry, shocked." he drawls, taking a deep drag, keeping his eyes intently on your face. You nod, eyes glancing from his then back to the camera. He gets goosebumps from how your stare pierces through the screen, emotions twisting on your pretty little face, but there's one thing you haven't done yet,

"How about a smile?" he suggests, and when you instantly lift the corners of your lips, 'how subservient', he rasps, "good girl."

The way his voice drops an octave, a smokers rasp, makes both a chill and tingle travel up your spine. Still, you stay. Maybe you're naive, this is how Hollywood works after all.

"There's a script on the table beside you, have a read through it and when you're ready, we'll film you running through those lines a couple of times," he drags his words, making you feel as though he has all the time in the world for you, and only you.

After the week of castings with dozens of other women in the room who look exactly like you, all vying for the highly coveted role of 'featured extra', the undivided attention feels like a warm bubble bath, even if the bathtub himself is a little grimy, rough around the edges. As you read through and mark any tricky lines, you chew on the tip of your pen without thinking, as you always do. However, this time, you feel a change in the air and out of the corner of your eye, you notice him bring a loose fist to his lap. Is he turned on? Feeling smug, you play with the pen a little more, running it over your plump, glossy lips and drawing the tip into your mouth, savouring the feeling of finally being watched.

In the smoothest, most unassuming voice you can muster, you tell him, "I'm ready, Giran."

"Good girl," he grins, I bet you are. The next five minutes are spent running through the script, drawing out every bit of emotion you can from the incredibly dry lines. Back home, you would have been a shoo-in for all the best roles. The role of 'vampire waitress' is a far cry, but hey, a job is a job.

"Not bad," he raises his eyebrow when you finally lower the script to your lap, giving him once-again unobstructed view of your chest. "I have another role I'm casting for, and I think you've got what it takes to get the part. It's bigger, but far more risqué," he drawls, and the glint in his eye tells you all you need to know.  "It's a horror film, sexy, gory,  a little filthy, made by a guy they're calling 'Young Tarantino'. It could make you a star. What d'y say, sweetheart?"

"How risqué is it?" you muse, leaning forward attentively, your shirt dropping slightly to reveal the edges of a lace bra. He licks his lips.

"Quite, you will have to try out for the part, make sure you're up to it, after all." A long inhale of his almost burnt out cigarette gives you a chance to mull over his words, to give the stranger propositioning you a once over. He's not too bad looking, has had better days but the ravenous look in his eyes makes you want to be swallowed whole, to taste the smoke on his breath. "The director is also very... particular about the bodies of his actresses." he continues, letting tendrils of smoke billow from between his lips. His tone is suggestive, his eyes fucking you from his seated position.

Without missing a beat, you slip off the shoulder straps of your shirt, letting the fabric fall around your waist to show your bra. The fact that the camera is still recording crosses your mind and sends a rush of blood to your groin as your nipples pebble, scratching the fabric.

Then, you stand, script fluttering to the floor haphazardly. You unzip your skirt, letting all your clothing drop into a circle around your feet. The matching underwear set perfectly compliments your body and skin tone and you're grateful for it. Giran lets out a grunt, openly palming his cock and your eyes drift to the edge of his desk where you can see his forearm moving. He must be large for so much movement.

"Do a twirl for me, sweetheart." he demands, voice husky.

You comply, turning slowly and when you face the back, bend over at the waist to show him how the skin of your ass pulls tight, thong nestled between your cheeks already wet, before you snap back up and complete the circle. Giran stubs his cigarette, his palm that was rubbing his cock moving to run through his hair, a grunt of approval echoing in the silent room. Your eyes wide and feigning innocence. He stands, moving slowly to the front of the desk and leans against it, erection noticeably straining beneath the zipper.

"You've definitely got the body for the job," he says, fingers unbuckling his belt before moving to the button of his slacks. "But do you have the talent?"

Your eyes drift down to the tent in his now tight pants, and you lick your lips as you feel your mouth start to water. Anything for a part, you think to convince yourself even though you've already made your decision, the slick between your legs spurring you on. You kneel, feeling the script crinkle beneath your skin, and open your mouth.

"Why don't you come find out?" you dare him, but he's already pushed off the wood, standing so he's sideways and in the frame of the video to record the lewd actions you are about to exhibit.

You pull the hair from your face, and transition it to the shoulder away from the camera to give an unobstructed view of your jaw and sultry lips. You pout, gazing up at Giran with your best ‘bedroom eyes’. You like to be watched, why else would you decide to become a star in Hollywood? He's the perfect height, zipper right in front of your lips. You peer at him, and he nods, the back of his hand stroking your cheek. You feel his rings, cold against your flushed skin.

He pulls the zip all the way down, letting the pants droop slightly as he eases his dick out from behind his underwear waistband. It springs free, almost smacking you on the nose. You flinch, let out a squeak and pull back in shock. He chuckles, deep and throaty, fingers going to your hair to pull you back towards his cock, beading with precum.

"Are you ready, dollface?" it's not really a question but you still nod, mouth opening in anticipation, lips quivering.

Your palm wrap around the base of his cock, his girth just right for your fingertips to touch. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe from the base to the tip, stopping just shy of his slit. His cock twitches in anticipation, hips rutting forward slightly, but you pull back, staring up at him with your eyes. His are blown wide with lust, carnal, and he lets out a growl, not liking the game of dominance you're toying at.

"You better watch yourself, sweetheart." he warns, the fingers in your hair tightening. Your eyes dart to the video recorder and you smirk, always an actress, before watching his face when you wrap your lips around the very tip of his cock, sucking on the satin flesh, tasting how salty and sour his precum is.

You fake your moan, pretending that it's the most delicious meal as you inch your lips down his length, feeling the head bump the back of your throat and keeping it there, letting your eyes water as it tickles your gag reflex, not enough to fully activate it, yet. You pull back, pushing your tongue up and sucking hard. Giran lets out a moan, loud, and you are slightly worried that the receptionist outside would hear, but the grip in his hair tightens once more to pull you back from your thoughts.

You begin to bob, hand fisting along with your movements and he starts to pant. Even his breath's are husky from the years of smoking. His hips rock along with your movements, knocking the back of your throat and you do gag this time. The sound is filthy as tears leak from your lower lashes. He wipes a tear away with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to taste.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart, let’s hear a moan," he grunts and you follow his instructions, the vibrations making him jolt forward.

You cup his balls, the soft skin pliable, and it twitches and bounces between your caressing fingers. You hollow your cheeks, pull back, swirl your tongue around his tip before diving down to swallow him all. Your swollen lips look so delectable around his length, Giran resists the urge to use your mouth for his own fucking pleasure. But you look so sinful. His hand on your head gets more forceful. He no longer rocks. He’s thrusting, deeper, harder, faster, until you're choking around his cock. It’s no longer sexy but straight up obscene as the tears track down your cheeks and the saliva expels from your mouth to drip down your chin and onto your chest. It glistens, cools, but you’re hot. Too hot.

Who ever said heat rises had never gotten their throat fucked. You feel a pooling in your sex, a fire blazing between your thighs that you so desperately press together for friction. You remember the rolling camera, how this footage can be used against you, and probably how you look like nothing but a fleshlight. It all turns you on explicably, but it won’t do. Oh no. You tighten your grip on his testes, feeling them shrink up as he nears his release. With the next push back, you wrench your head free from his palm, sinking right back down to the hilt, pubes tickling your nose and you don’t breathe in. You suck, feeling your tongue flatten and swell at once. Your free hand is on his thigh, the pants saggy beneath your grip that fists the fabric.

“Oh, oh, oh fuck, fu--” he rasps, eyes not leaving your face. He’d never seen someone suck a cock, a stranger’s cock, with so much vigour. He’d had his fair share of ‘casting calls’ with young hopefuls, but none of them took to the challenge like you have.

“I’m going to cum,” the warning comes mere seconds before his release, and you decide to put on the final show.

As the warm, thick liquid expels, you begin to lean back, letting the stream gather on your tongue, around your lips, until the last spurts drip down your cheeks and jaw. You’re filthy covered in his cum. His breath hitches and the most guttural moan erupts from his throat at the sight. You keep your mouth open from him to see the semen, your face stays aroused, alluring, as though it doesn’t taste like cigarettes. 

It makes him fall to his knees in front of you. Without hesitation, you find the knot of his tie, tugging it into you harshly so that your lips collide and you swish all his cum into his panting mouth. He lets out a surprised yelp, but his lips soon melt, fingers sliding over your painted cheek as he sweeps along your jaw. When you pull away and stare at him with the widest eyes you can muster, you ask the dazed casting director a very simple question,

“Do I get the part?”