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Odette Ch. 00

By: Sellene



Prologue

The Plague. No one knows how it started. The only thing everyone knows that it desolated the world's human population and is continuing to do so. The Plague had wiped out the human races' fertility rates so dramatically there were pregnancy laws. After the Plague had hit and started wiping out the rate of successful births, the Pregnancy Act (PA) was enforced: any woman over the age of 18 was required to get pregnant as fast as possible and as much as possible. The method could be the old fashioned way or by artificial insemination (AI) from a donor with high fertility numbers and successful birth rates. The government known simply as The Order would pay for the AI if needed for a female unable to get pregnant within a 6 month period of time. The Order would also pay for any medical costs, housing, and nutrition for the woman/couple-even if not married or engaged for marriage. There are fertility treatments and testing for all humans that have undergone puberty and started on a fertility plan to increase the chances of fertilization once the female has become of age.

This is the law, the way of life for civilization after the Plague. If you were a female and tried resisting the Pregnancy Act, there were consequences if you were caught. Whether you didn't follow your fertility plan or try to become pregnant after turning 18, that's when you were located and brought in for completing the steps for the fertility plan or AI if no positive pregnancy test hasn't been reported within the 2 month period after your 18th birthday. If you didn't take your vitamins or anything included in your fertility plan by the doctors you were then brought into a boarding situation and/or supervised for your specific fertility plan. This included blood tests to make sure that every human was following the Plan, male and female both. With women and their different cycles they were given the drug called Timer. This drug was specifically engineered to every female's different cycle so that they never had their period on their birthday and instead they always had their peak ovulation time on their birthday and then this time frame was extended to last a week for optimal fertilization chances on their 18th birthday.

Due to the PA everyone has to have tests done for Sexual Diseases and Illnesses, and if you were a Carrier for the Plague then you were watched even closer and subjected to drug trials to see if the Carrier Gene could be wiped out and replaced with a sort of placebo Gene to make the body not pass it to offspring so there would be no chance of the Plague Genes in future generations. If your body did not take to the trial drugs and you had a chance of passing on the Plague Genes then you were given a sterility pill so that you could have no chance of becoming pregnant and reopening the gates for another Plague.

If there is a genetic gene that has a chance in any way to complicate the pregnancy term or the birth or survival rate of the baby, then it will be removed and replaced with a placebo gene. Similar to the way the Plague Genes are genetically altered not to be passed along with the trial drugs.

Part of the PA is that everyone is implanted with a chip that stores your medical information, criminal history, and personal information that can be scanned and also is used as a tracker. These chips are nano-sized and inserted into your bloodstream. They are virtually impossible to remove unless you had a full blood transplant by filtered blood. Even then, if anyone tried to do an unregistered full-blood transplant, and alarm was sent to the nearest police station and you were located, and brought in for supervision.

Each female is to remain a virgin until her 18th birthday so that the fertility plans and treatments work to the maximum level and to reduce the chances of a premature pregnancy occurring and the possible loss of a pregnancy going wrong and the female having complications later on in her future carrying terms/pregnancies.

Depending on funds and the plans for your 18th birthday party, there are special permits granted by the Order: these Pre-Party Permits (PPPs) are set in place for a fee that allowed the client to have an educational experience within the week before their scheduled party date. PPPs are hard to get due to the application fee associated with the application process and the time it took to get processed.

There were programs you could sign up for created by the Order. Some of these programs included: 

Planners: these people specializes in 18th birthday parties for females. The client would be asked about how they would like their first time to go and what their specific fantasies are. The job of the Planner was to make everything run smoothly and perfectly to enhance the frequency of times the female will have sexual interactions during and after the party is over. The Order will have a set amount of funds set aside for each female to use for their party and all the costs. Anything over these funds will have to be provided by the family or by herself or by donations.

Sessions: having high ranking fertile men come to your place of residency at scheduled times. You could choose the looks, the personalities, and how many. These males were tested regularly and put on potency drugs to increase the chances of egg fertilizations. The Order will provide financial assistance depending on the different requests for each female. One male per session is fully paid for by the Order. Each male after the one for the same session, the female will receive a stipend for each additional male as long as it is in the same session. For example, the first male for one session is paid for, each additional male for the same session represents $50 stipend for the female, due to the increased chances of a successful fertilization. And if you are a male, you can submit an application and be put "on-call" so that you can be called in. This application will include what you like and are willing to do, your rate of success with successful births/fertilization rates, your physical description and measurements.

Artificial Insemination (AI): this is for a female who wants to control the certain aspects of the donor such as: physical appearances, specific genes, personality, or if they have not become pregnant by the 6 month term presented to them by the Order, they will be given a mandatory notice to come into a clinic and have AI preformed free of charge.

Private Dens: these business house opportunities for women and men who would love to enhance different situations and cravings for both men and women cliental. They are given their own rooms and allowed to pick their clients of pleasure. Potential employees are required to fill out applications and then upon hire are given a bonus and great birthing/medical benefits for women and medical benefits for men. Potential clients are also required to fill out applications for the employees to choose from. These Dens are required to pay taxes to fund the Order's Pregnancy Act.

This is the Law. The Pregnancy Act is put in place to restore the human population. The goal is to have the human race off the endangered species level 5. Once the Level has decreased to Level 2 then the Pregnancy Act will be amended to go back to the Old Ways. The Ways of Freedom.

Odette Ch. 01



 Part 1 – The set-up




"What happens now?" 

"I kiss him." 

"Where?"

"On the lips."

"No. I mean where does this ... this thing ... take place?"

"In the bedroom."

"You mean ..." I motioned with my head, "... in there?" 

"Yes." 

"But you don't even know the guy!" 

"It's acting, Uncle Merv."

"Acting?" 

"Yes," she said, and started to take off her dress.

We were in the bathroom, the two of us, Odette and I. The bedroom was next door. It had a circular bed. A huge one. The carpet was cream, the drapes coral. The framed prints on the walls were pen and ink studies of couples in positions of ... let's say, affection. There was a mirror on the ceiling over the bed that was as big as the bed itself. Around the room were lights, on stands, three movie cameras, on tripods, two fluffy microphones, on rods, and a tall gaunt guy, called Lens. Lens, last time I looked, was flitting busily from one piece of equipment to another like a moth around a yard lamp: adjusting this, fiddling with that, moving the next thing. 

"Why must the room have a bed?" I asked, as Odette unselfconsciously ran the zipper of her bright yellow dress to her waist then carelessly let gravity take it the rest of the way to the bathroom's marble floor. I'd seen her undressed a thousand times, usually in a bikini, most times round our pool, so should have been used to how good she looked. But I wasn't. Beneath the dress she wore a white half bra and matching thong. Standard practice: I closed my mouth.

I turned away. 

"The room has a bed because the story requires it," she said, as I sensed she was reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

I opened the door, and got the hell out of the bathroom.

It had all started off, mid-afternoon, with a telephone call. 

"It's Odette," said Liz, my secretary, passing me the phone. "She says it's a matter of life or death." 

I am a partner in an accountancy firm. I was in a meeting with clients.

"Hi Odette," I said to the phone. "I'm in a meeting. Can I call you back?" 

"Mom's being unreasonable. She'll ruin my life. You have to help me." The words came tumbling from the phone. "There's a casting agency. A good one. In town. They want to see me. It's my big chance, Uncle Merv. Maybe the only one I'll ever get. In my whole life! And Mom wants to stop me." Her voice climbed an octave, "Can you believe that?" Dropped back. "I've interviewed. Now they want to see me. Tonight. But she won't ..."

"Sweetie ..." I tried to interrupt.

"... let me go," she drove right through my attempted interruption. "They want me to audition. Take a screen test. Maybe a demo reel. It's my big chance Uncle Merv. They leave tomorrow. Miss this and my life will be nothing." 

I sign-languaged clients that this could take a moment, and that they might like some coffee, and that Liz, who was standing at my elbow, would happily arrange it. 

"Can you believe that?" the phone demanded. 

Again.

As Liz headed out to get coffee.

Odette's mother wouldn't let her go unless she went too. 

And that was so NOT going to happen! 

What about Dad? came next. 

No Way! 

Okay, so ... Uncle Merv? 

Meaning me. 

The 'Uncle' part was on account of my being a neighbour, and having a swimming pool in our yard that Odette had used since she was ten. (They'd just moved in, our house had a pool, theirs didn't; we didn't have children of our own, still don't, and Laura my wife doesn't swim; besides, she seemed a nice kid.) 

Odette said she could live with me as her chaperone, so would I?

Please? 

To satisfy Mom. 

Please? 

"Okay," I said, then extricated myself, with difficulty, from an extravagant stream of lavish, and very Odettish, gratitude – just as coffee arrived. 

I put the phone down. 

I had, after all, nothing planned for the evening. My wife, Laura, was overseas. (She is a buyer for a clothing chain, away a lot. The importance of careers, hers in particular, is what guided our decision not to have children.) Besides, I rationalised, it would be a harmless diversion. We got on pretty well, Odette and I, and always had.

I closed the bathroom door behind me. 

I nodded at Lens, who was still doing his impersonation of a moth – around spotlights, flood lights, microphones, and cameras. I was still watching him when Odette came out the bathroom. She had changed into a brief shirt dress she'd been given for the part. 

So who was I looking at? 

Odette first turned up at our pool, long legged and coltish, with a towel tossed casually over her shoulder and a careful smile on a pretty freckled face. She was accepting the invitation, given the previous week-end at a get-to-know-the-neighbours barbecue, that she should use our pool whenever she wished. That first day she was wearing a yellow bikini with 'sweetie' written in large pink letters across her butt. She'd filled out since then. Now she was approaching twenty, tanned and toned and healthy – and shapely as all heck! – from the thousands of hours she had spent in our pool. 

GW entered the bedroom from the other door. 

Odette looked at him, awaiting instructions. 

Lens and I looked too. And yes, I confess, I was nervous. 

I was nervous ... because as we drove over Odette had explained, with the hem of her dress so high on her legs I was having difficulty focussing on driving, that the casting agency were auditioning for a part in a series of erotic classics. (This had not been mentioned on the phone.) After dropping this particular bomb-shell, she had gone on to suggest, "You could drop me off, pick me up later, Mom would never know." 

"You know I can't do that," I said.

"It's an adult part. Could be raunchy." She stuck a playful elbow in my ribs. "You might be shocked."

"I won't be shocked," I said.

What would I have to be shocked about?

"Besides," I went on, "your Mom made me promise I'd be there throughout." 

That was true, she had. 

Should I say more? 

I decided I'd better.

"She is also concerned, as any mother would be, that these people may not be bona fide casting agents, but rather peddlers of porn, out to trap innocent girls."

"What a lie. Mum doesn't know it's erotic. You think I'm so dumb as to tell her?"

I let that go, hoping she would too.

After a couple of blocks, she asked, "Do you still think of me as a girl?"

Deep breath. She'd caught me in one lie, let's not make it two. 

"No, Odette, I don't."

"What about innocent?"

I ducked that, making as if I hadn't heard her; changed lanes, focussed on driving. The length of her leg above her knees reflected the lights from outside the car. I caught a red one, just in time. We came to an enthusiastic stop. 

"Mom doesn't think so," she said, caught by the seat belt. "Nice stop," she purred. Some years ago I might have told her her legs were a distraction, but since they'd become so I'd stopped saying that.

"Okay," she sighed, resignedly, as we moved off from the lights. "Seeing you insist on being there, we need to agree some ground rules." Okay, I thought, saying nothing. "I am in my second year at college, right?" I nodded. "A fully grown woman." I nodded again. "I chose the college I'm at not because of its teaching faculty, but because of its drama program. I want to be an actor." Fine. She took a deep breath. "You and me, we're buddies, Merv." I could feel her eyes on me. "I love you to death. You're part of me. Part of my life. You've watched me growing up." I had – we both knew that. "I want you to help me as an adult tonight, not the girl you once knew. Whatever happens, there are no 'oughts' or 'shoulds', understand? It is an adult part in an adult production, I want you to be okay with that." 

I kept my mouth shut, and my eyes on the road.

"Okay?" she pressed. 

"Okay," I agreed.

She leaned across and squeezed my leg.

I wish she wouldn't do that. 

... Which is when the sack of shit came into the bedroom. 

The male lead.

I think it was his arrogance that offended me the most. The impression he gave that he was the one doing the favours. Of course I was hardly going to like him, having some sketchy idea of what he was about to do, and who he was about to do it to, but even allowing for that, it was difficult to like the guy ... the way he swaggered towards Odette, nasty calculating eyes running over her like a dog's tongue over cream, as Odette stood still, and let him! 

"Who am I supposed to be?" I asked Odette, on the way to the hotel, figuring she'd have some idea. (Or did they let anyone in?) 

"You could be my agent," she suggested. 

I had no idea how an agent behaved. Besides, weren't they the agents? 

"They are casting agents, you could be my personal agent," said Odette. 

"Would you have one?" 

"Why not?"

Shit ... I didn't know. 

So I would be her personal agent. Fair enough. 

Play it by ear. 

When we entered the hotel, at seven p.m. precisely, (accountants don't like to be late,) heads turned, to watch. Reception were expecting us, which was reassuring, I'd half expected a dodgy peddler of porn, dressed in black silk, with his shirt open to his waist, sporting chest hair and the glimmer of gold medallions and chains, sunk low in a high backed chair. Peering out from behind a newspaper. Going 'psssssst' to attract our attention as we walked by. But that hadn't happened. 

Just a lot of turned heads. 

Tracking Odette. 

"The Honeymoon Suite," announced the smartly-suited man at Reception, glancing approvingly at Odette, binging a bell, hailing a bell boy, and airily instructing him to take us to, 'The Honeymoon Suite'. This got me a bunch of questioning looks from those within earshot: gorgeous chick in vibrant yellow, drab accountant in faded jeans. 

Eat your fucking hearts out! 

Luxurious elevator, thick pile carpet, smart double door to the suite. 

Thrown open. Dramatically. 

"Will you look at this! Princess, babe, hon. Wow! Stunning, sumptuous. Simply divine. Lens, get out here! Will you look at this. Love the dress ... and the legs ... those legs ... Jee-zus, will you look at those legs ... and ... and you ... you ... you must be ..."

"Merv, Merv Kyle." I held out my hand. 

He didn't take it. 

"Have we met?" he asked.

I wasn't sure. I didn't think so. Why was he asking? 

I dropped my hand.

The small, squat, balding, rotund guy at the door was wearing a black silk shirt, open to a chest bedecked with hair, three medals on chains, matching black silk pants, no socks, wine coloured silk slippers with a gold embroidered G on the toe of one, W on the other. 

"Oh, I see," said GW, as if a penny had dropped, "You're the driver?"

"No," I started to say, but he was already pulling her into the suite, threatening to close the door on me. 

"We'll see she gets home," he said, his eyes all over Odette. "Come in, princess, let me introduce ..."

"Er ..." Odette, half turned. "My agent." 

Unconvincing.

But I had my foot in the door. 

"I will be present throughout the shoot," I announced, firmly, in my best accountant voice. Odette's Mom may not have known about the 'erotic' aspects of the audition, but she had threatened that if I didn't stay with her daughter for 'every second' of her time here then she would never speak to me again, and her husband – a mountain of a guy – would probably kill me. 

In we trooped. Classy day room. Pale leather, white walls, shag wool, modern art, baby grand piano finished in white Chinese lacquer, matching bench with a zebra skin seat. Two guys: GW, ten years my senior. Another guy, younger, thin as a rail, gaunt, hefting an impressive looking movie cam, introduced simply as 'Lens'. Two more cameras, one a Nikon SLR – same model I'd promised myself – sat on the bench by the baby grand. 

GW held out a business card. 

To me.

"Where's yours?" he barked, as I accepted a cream textured card with a silver deckle edge on which was embossed, 'G.W. Ginman'. There were two addresses, also black, also embossed, one in New York, the other Hollywood, followed by a flock of telephone numbers and web addresses. 

"Didn't bring mine," I said, head down, reading his card. Could I tell the difference between a porn peddler and a serious casting agent just by looking at the business card, or were the gold medals the giveaway? "Impressive card," I said, looking up, tapping his card with my finger, finding a smile. "So what do I call you?"

"GW." But he'd already swung towards Odette. "What's happening here, princess? An agent without a business card? No way. Who is this guy?"

Odette, looking stumped. 

"Left it in my suit," I improvised. "Didn't want to be late." 

But he wasn't looking at me. "This guy could be anyone." He was speaking to Odette. "You think there aren't spies in this business? You think they don't want our ideas? Wouldn't pay good money to know what we're working on? Who we're working for? What Studios have us on their books ..."

"Hey ... Look ... I'm sorry," I said, interrupting, feeling I had to do something. 

But he was paying no attention to me. He was interested only in Odette. "Could be government. An Agent. Inland Revenue. Undercover cop. Holy shit, could be your Dad, ever thought of that?" I wasn't sure I saw that as a threat, but what did I know? The balding head above the black silk shirt was starting to resemble the colour of his slippers. "Jeezus, baby," shaking his head. "This is not right. This is ... this is ... tell her what it is, Lens."

"It's not right, GW."

"Damn right. My oath. Not right. Not right. Boy, did you get that one right."

At which point I summarised the situation, to myself, in the following terms:

No business card, I didn't stay. 

I didn't stay, Odette had to leave. 

Odette had to leave, she'd never speak to me again! 

(And I really didn't want that to happen.) 

So ... from the wallet in my hip pocket I extracted my accountant's card, gave him that, confessed I was a friend looking out for her interests because hell, as I told him, "We don't know you guys from Adam, do we? You could be peddlers of porn!" Raised eyebrow from Lens, nothing from GW. "I'm not a spy, nor a cop, nor her dad. I'm just a friend, being prudent, that's all. No offense." 

GW looked at Odette as if asking if that was true. Odette wasn't sure what to say, looked at me, looked at him, finally nodded, looked at the floor. GW looked at my card, passed it to Lens, who looked at it too. More assurances from Odette. Agreement from me: I would keep out the way, say nothing. ('Shut the fuck up at all times', as GW put it.) After which GW produced a 'release document' five pages long. 

"Can I glance at that?" I asked, glancing at it. 

"Standard Audition agreement, no comeback as a result of anything done in furtherance of the Auditioning process, rights to all film remain ours, blah blah blah ... you needn't worry. We're professionals, Mr Lyle."

"Kyle," I corrected him.

Whatever ... 

I was shunted off behind the baby grand. 

There followed a bunch of stuff I needn't bore you with: Odette's hopes and aspirations as an actor, film-makers she admired, actors she aspired to be like, why she acted, stuff like that. Background on the series followed this, emphasis on mainstream, realism, erotic nature. Requirement of mainstream: no genitalia, which made it more difficult than porn – pointed glance in my direction – the focus was on facial expression, and bodily movement. Realism counted. Authenticity mattered. Had to look convincing. "That's the hard part," said GW, earnestly, eyes boring into Odette. "That's what we need in a Demo Reel. It's one thing to look hot, it's another to act hot, but it's a whole different ball game when some strange man has his tongue half way down your throat, and his hand in your pants."

"Can he touch her there?" 

I didn't mean to say it, it just came out. 

"I thought it was mainstream?" I added, defensively, as Odette shot me a 'please Uncle Merv' look – me in my bunker behind the piano, she in the line of fire, dead centre of the room.

"Mainstream means no genitalia," GW said to Odette, as if it was she who had asked the question. "A hand in your pants is well within bounds, but for you, regardless of what the viewing audience see, it is still a hand in your pants, possibly moving, probably trying to excite you." He turned to me. "Could you do that?"

"Probably not," I said, though was not entirely sure of the question.

"Exactly." He turned away. "Now can you ask your accountant to shut the fuck up?"

Odette looked at me apologetically. Mouthed the word 'Please'. 

Which is when the sack of shit appeared. The star, the Audition facilitator; the slightly aging male lead to Odette's female following; the seasoned professional to Odette's fumbling amateur; the enabler of the erotic reaction. 

In other words ... the sack of shit. 

He made his entry from the bedroom to the day room as if he thought he was the prow of some millionaire's cruising yacht entering a working fish harbour. As he approached Odette, ignoring everything else in the room, his eyes were all over her like glaze on a bagel. Odette stood still, like a lamb at a stake. Predator circling, licking his lips. Pacing around her, fuelling his probably filthy imaginings, juices pumping, starting to drool ... while Odette simply stood there, letting him undress her with his eyes. 

"You are one hot babe," he simpered, reaching for her hand, lifting it to his lips, about to kiss it when he noticed me, behind the piano.

"Who the fuck's that?" he yelped, dropping the hand, staring at me.

"He's fine. It's nothing. Her accountant," said GW, reaching for her hand and trying to give it back. 

"Accountant! What the fuck for?"

"You'll hardly know I'm here," I said, trying an inoffensive smile.

"That's right," Odette agreed, nodding at me hard.

"GW, we need to talk. NOW," said the sack of shit, turning on his heels and thundering back to his lair in the bedroom, like a coal tug with an overheated engine. 

GW rolled his eyes, and followed. 

Odette shook her head.

Lens scratched his.

I said nothing.

"So here's the deal," said GW, to me, three minutes later, over the top of the baby grand. "For the readings and voice work we do in here, you stay behind the piano. Say nothing, don't even twitch." I started to nod, thought better of it. "For the bed work, you stay in the corner behind the lights, so he can't see you when he's working. He won't do it otherwise. Slightest interruption, he walks."

"Walks?" I repeated, but my mind was on 'bed work', what the hell was that?

"He leaves. He's gone. He's history."

I nodded. I understood.

"And we don't want that." 

I nodded again. 

But he wasn't finished. "YOU don't want that. I don't want that. HE doesn't want that. And your little princess CERTAINLY doesn't want that, because if that happens, she will never get another audition, ever, anywhere, with anyone in the industry that matters, as long as I draw breath. Caprice?"

Heavy stuff!

Caprice?

I nodded – said nothing – sat back – watched.

The part Odette was to play was Margot, to the aging Albinus (aka sack of shit). The young teen mistress to the older man – who would eventually, according to the story, go blind. (Couldn't happen to a nicer sack of shit!). 

"It was written in Russian, published in Paris as Kamera Obscura, 1933." 

Apparently.

"We want you to Audition for Margot. Have you done love scenes?"

Odette said she had. At college. 

I thought about that.

Briefly.

GW spun around as Lens, camera in hand, light meter hanging from a loop around his wrist, produced a book, from somewhere or other, handed it to GW with a flourish, together with a pair of gold framed half spectacles that had been hooked to the front of his collarless shirt. 




Odette Ch. 01



Chapter One: Pre-Party Planning

I turn 18 in a week. My body has been prepping for my birthday since I started menstruating. For the past month I had been on different vitamins and pills to increase my libido. The doctors would keep me on these until I become pregnant. Due to the fertility treatments I should be able to get pregnant before the 6 months no problem. My boyfriend, Michael, and I have been going steady now for a year and we have talked about my birthday party plans. In this culture, it is customary for women at the 18th birthday party to finally experience and plan their first encounter any way they wanted. Since the libido drugs has been working for the past month, my thoughts, fantasies and dreams have been outrageous. I can't believe they are my own.

I have been working with my Planner, Fawn, for about 3 months now and she is the best. She has helped me with all the decisions, and calming me and my nerves. My parents are planning on going out to a business party for the 3 days of my birthday so that I can have some "Adult Freedom". This is what they have labeled my party. They have added to my birthday funds so that I will have not just one day but two days for my party. My mother has always wanted grandchildren and my parents are wanting me to be successful in getting pregnant as soon as possible. They like my boyfriend a lot and have already started a fund for when we get married. I'm not sure I'm fully ready for all of this but my body sure is.

"And where would you like the first day's party location to be?" Fawn asked me.

"I'm not entirely sure where it should be...somewhere sophisticated and beautiful....with....eghmm... lots of room." I replied with a blush. For some reason I keep blushing about what I have fantasized and would like to do for my Adult Party.

"Very nice, very nice. I'm thinking we can have the party here at your house for your two day event. It has plenty of room in the foyer and the stairs are made of white marble and the railings are made of cast iron dipped in gold, then twisted into glorious swirls. We will have lights and garland along the railings and the chandeliers will be lit up and have crystals dangling down. The sound system in this place is top of the line and we will have some caterers to serve drinks and hors d'oevres. Odette, are you listening?" Fawn asked.

"Yes of course I am. I'm just wondering how do we invite enough suitors, I don't even know a lot of people and let alone have many friends? Also, I'm wanting everything to be a surprise to me Fawn, so don't tell me too much about the decorations and such." I replied to Fawn.

"Don't worry about that I will invite them according to your likes and make sure they are clean. All that we have left for you to do is go and pick out your outfits for the parties. I'm thinking with the budget there should be enough for three. A first appearance dress, the night apparel, and then your present party attire for the day after. I guess we could do the Present Party first and then the Adult Freedom party the next day. After all your parent's gave you three days for the event, it is your choice for what order they are in." Fawn asked with her pen and paper ready to mark down what I was thinking and wanting to do.

"I'm thinking that the Gift Party, Adult Freedom Party, and then the last day will be for whatever I want to do I guess." I replied and I watched her pen scratching the notes down.

"Excellent choice dear. I will arrange for attire shopping for tomorrow. We will start at 8 AM and go until we find the perfect outfits. Then after that we will schedule the spa day and pampering and then you just enjoy the time before your parties." Fawn finished her notes and got up to leave in her grey pinstriped dress suit. 

"Thank you so much Fawn, this will be gorgeous with you designing everything and I can't wait." I told her while escorting her into the foyer of my house. We hugged and she left with a see you tomorrow.

The next day I awoke to my alarm clock and was remembering one of my crazy dreams with a smile. These dreams of mine were giving me more ideas for the third day of my party. But that was enough thinking about those things. I had to get ready for shopping today.

I decided to get dressed in one of my strapless bras that had a deep back and a "v" front for formal dresses. This bra made my size C breasts look fabulous. I decided on a tank top with rhinestones and a swirled blue and while design that was my favorite and most comfortable. I then put on my white lace thong and a pair of cut off shorts that showed off my perfectly sculpted legs. One thing for sure was that the fertility treatment was making me dress a little more skimpy than usual and that was okay, just meant that I'm available for following the duties of PA. I then chose some matching blue and white flip-flops with rhinestone accents and then my purse.

I did a little bit of makeup and then did a messy bun. Trying on clothes was one of the most time consuming fun things a girl like me loved to do. I was ready to go and I see from my bathroom window that Fawn had pulled up in her convertible. I grabbed my sunglasses and ran down the stairs to get in and we were off.

My parents' house was one of the nicest in the neighborhood. After the Plague had wiped out much of the population, you could really choose whatever place you wanted as long as it was vacant. Since my parents work for the Order in the Medical division they are well off and could afford to keep the place up. For me, this meant a lot of "friends". I only had a few true friends but I was popular in school because of the wealth and status that surrounded my parents and I.

Before I knew it we were walking into the mall in the most expensive section for formal wear and lingerie. My funds pulled out all the stops for the party. With trying on the dresses and the lingerie my day was exhausting and also exhilarating. All this stuff was things I would wear frequently until I fulfilled my end of the PA and got pregnant. These were the items to help the men along on many of my journeys for however long this PA was in effect. I am one of the lucky ones. Most women only got one outfit. Here I am getting three!

The last stop of the day was the jewelry store. I got to choose anything to wear for the parties as rental Items that the store was having a special on for 18th birthdays. Then I would get to choose one of these pieces of jewelry to keep after the night was done for the Freedom party. I chose matching accessories for the outfits and I had until the jewelry was due back at the store to choose which one I would like to keep.

After getting home and hugging Fawn before going inside with the packages that the maids had brought in for me, it was time to decide what I was going to have done with my hair and makeup. Waiting inside the foyer was a man who made my jaw drop. He was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my life. 

"Hello, Odette my name is Ryan and I'm here to help you with relaxing after your day out and give you a massage to close out your day and help your muscles relax. Ms. Fawn has instructed me that I should ask you more detailed questions on what exactly you would like to do and learn before your parties." Ryan said with a sexy smile and my god his voice was husky and deep. His jawline was strong and he looked perfectly sculpted under his clothes.

"Ok let me just go have the maids start the bath water. I will have them show you to the library upstairs by my room and I will meet you there." I said with a smile and I couldn't believe that way I was acting so confident. I wanted to jump him right in the foyer and have him take me there and have him make me his. My boyfriend was cute but this man was downright sexy. These pills and treatments made me think of skipping the deadline of having to wait the next couple of days until my birthday.

I went up to my room and got undressed and took a quick bath to scrub off the sweat from trying on dozens of different outfits. I got out of the bath, blotted dry and decided on just wearing my red silk robe with black lace accents I had bought as an extra today in the shopping spree. My god, I looked in the mirror and it accentuated my slender waist and covered my legs to just below my sweet spot and if I bent over forward everything would show. I then decided to put on a pair of lace crotch-less panties, another splurge item from the shopping and decided that I looked damn sexy and felt that way too..

I felt like I was a goddess. My damp black hair was wavy now and I looked ready. My nerves were on end and I made my way to the library. Set up just inside the doors was a privacy screen with ivy leaves trailing down the canvas and I smelt the vanilla candles burning along with a touch of honeysuckle. The big lights were off and there was the glow of candle light coming through the cream colored canvas of the screen. I heard soft music playing in the library accented with the crackling of the fireplace. I took a deep breath and stepped around the privacy screen. Ryan was sitting in one of the chairs reading a book looking handsome it was almost criminal. I just stood there and looked at his gorgeous body, the way the candle light was playing with the contours of his sculpted face and body, his dark black hair perfectly cut in a messy way.

I cleared my throat to let him know I was here and ready for my calming massage and whatever else he was here to teach me or to answer any of my questions. 

"Ah, good, Miss Odette please come take a seat beside me." He gestured towards the chair beside him. I obediently went to sit down and I felt his gaze sweep over my body. The deep v of my silk robe just showed a touch of my round breasts and my nipples were budding out and could be seen against the smooth fabric. He had a sly smile on his face as if he knew what I wanted. He had on a pair of silk pants that are black and a white flowing shirt with a V-neck that showed off tanned skin. His arms were muscled and tan also. 

"So do you have any questions before we start the session?" He asked with his husky voice. 

"How long do we have for the session?" I asked.

"As long as you need to be relaxed. Whenever you have a question just ask and I will be happy to answer it. Please let's begin, it is great that you decided to take a bath first. It will help your muscles relax." He said with a warm smile and his hand gestured to the massage table. Please take off your robe and lay down on your stomach with the towel covering you." He turned around to give me some privacy. I took off the red silk robe and laid down on the table with the towel over my butt and the lace panties.

"Okay, I'm ready." I replied.

He started with rubbing his hands together with oils that smelt like honeysuckle. "Please let me start with seeing how tense your muscles are." His hands started with my shoulders. Nice warm hands that are strong but gentle began to squeeze and move around. A groan left my lips and he started moving down my back and I moaned more with my eyes shut.

"Good, I can feel the tension releasing. Good...relax." Ryan said with his strong hands working the knots out of my shoulders and working his way down my back. "Is there anything you would like to know or have I do?"

"No just do whatever Fawn told you to do." I said in a shy voice. Low in my stomach I felt warm and tingling and was very moist.

"Odette, when you are ready for a more intense deep massage let me know when you are ready." He was breathing heavy whispering into my ear and I could feel his warm breath on my ear and neck. I nodded and he began to kiss my neck and then down my shoulders as he continued rubbing out the knots. I started to moan more and wanted more than kissing.

"Turn over Odette, let me show you what Fawn told me to show you and learn well." Ryan's kissing became more firm and his hands started to turn me over and I helped, eagerly wanting to know what it felt like to make love and also to know what to do for my party. "Fawn has had the Order grant you permission, this permit allows you to experience things before your birthday so you have the best chance at success. Of course, you say the word and we can keep things at just a massage or we can take things further." His pants were bulging and I nodded.

Ryan nodded and with a small grin moved closer to my face and turned my face to kiss my neck more. I moaned and felt him hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants...touching my inner thigh. His arms wrapped around me and I reached to take off his shirt. The white shirt hit the floor and he picked me up and told me to wrap my legs around him. He then took me to the couch and sat me down gently and leaned me back against the leather. His continued kissing me down my neck and to my firm nipples, flicking his tongue against them and I arched up to his mouth, his other hand moving down my body. Teasing my skin near my sweet spot, I tried moving my hips towards his hand but he moved his hand around my hip up to my waist. He continued kissing me...oh it felt like heaven. I wanting him right then and there, my moaning was getting louder and louder his hand disappeared from my skin and I heard the cloth of his pants rustle to the floor. 

He looked into my eyes, "you want to stay here or move to the bed?" he asked with a gruff voice his dark brown eyes looking into my blue eyes.

"I don't see a bed and the doors are locked, don't really want to be seen by the maids either..." my voice trailed off and I see him glance and the Library office doors. With a smile he lifted me with ease and carried me to the doors. He pushes me up against the cold oak doors and starts to kiss me more while grabbing my ass, one hand left to open the door. His weight against me releases and I hear water flowing in a fountain from outside in the garden. A breeze comes through the windows, the red curtains moving in the light breeze of summer. He turns to close the door with his foot and I glance around the room. Everything has been changed. The giant oak desk was removed and in its place was a round bed with red silk sheets, a fur lined blanket was folded over the foot board, and there were lots of pillows propped up against the arched custom carved headboard. Candles were on the tables and nightstands. Fawn outdid herself. I thought with a smile stretching across my face.

"You are gorgeous when you smile, Odette." A blush swept across my face and I looked down at his eyes and went in for another warm sweet kiss. He moaned and walked me over to the bed and laid me down. Everything felt so right, my arms around his toned abdomen and my hands on his sculpted back, his weight pressing me into the silky sheets, cold at the first touch but now warming with the heat of our bodies. His hardness was pressing against me and rubbing against my wetness. I felt like I was throbbing down there, ready, wanting him inside me already. 

His moaning was making me wetter, making my hips grind against him. "Odette, you feel so good and your skin is so soft. You're a natural, I don't think I will need to teach you anything." His mouth crushed into mine as he positioned himself at my opening.

"Thrust into me Ryan, I want you so bad, I'm ready." He groaned and I felt him guide himself into me, stretching me out and going slowly. His dick filling me up and I felt him throbbing inside me pushing deeper and deeper. He is so hard, moving at a steady pace inside me...I start to squeeze him while he is pushing inside me. We are both moaning. He keeps pushing inside me until his full 8 inches are in me. 

"Damn, you're so tight. And that squeezing...ohh...yeah." He held himself inside me for a while and was kissing me as I started to grind against him. His moaning was deep and gruff. Ryan's cock started to slide out and I squeezed his cock again, he felt me squeezing tighter and pushed back into me. His balls slapping against me. Both of us moaning together, we fell into a rhythm. Me squeezing his cock every time he started to pull out of me, and him feeling it and slamming into me. He was groaning with me which made me wetter and I started to tighten up and squeeze his cock more with me getting closer and closer to cumming.

"Oh Ryan, I'm so close, cum inside me. I want to feel your cum. Oh, god I'm cumming!" I shouted out with my muscles rapidly squeezing his dick. He started thrusting into me faster and harder. "Yeah, you want me to cum inside your pussy?" I was clawing at his back as my body kept cumming around his hard dick. "Yes, cum in me, fill me up Ryan." I moaned his name loudly. He pulled his cock almost all the way out of me until the tip of his head was just touching my lips, then he thrust hard into me, "Odette!" he yelled my name out as he threw his head back and started cumming inside me, his dick coating me over and over with each throb of his dick. He laid on top of me for a while. The cum was finishing its' round of spraying, once he was done he pulled out of me and started kissing me from my neck down to my pussy, his hands massaging all over my body.

"That was amazing." I said with a grin on my face I looked down at him and seen how big a grin he had on his face.

"No you were amazing for your first time, you're a natural. You are going to have so much fun." Ryan said while flipping over to lay on his back. He let out a deep sigh and covered us up with the silk sheet and the fur lined blanket. "You can lay your head on me and rest awhile, the maids will make up another bath for you if you would like. It's up to you what we do now."

"I'm okay with just laying here for a while Ryan." I said with the grin still on my face. Our breathing returned to normal. And I got up the courage to ask, "how is it legal for me, I mean us to do this before my birthday in a few days?"

"Well Fawn found a condition within the Pregnancy Act that, depending on how you plan your party and what happens at your party, you can apply for a pre-party training. And since you have decided to go with a high rate of success with the details of your party, they are allowing this for you, in hopes that you get pregnant within the first month." Ryan said with a smile, his face registering that he knew the plans for my party. His cock was beginning to get hard again thinking about the arrangements of my party in three days.

"I think that I need to learn more. At least my body is saying that and so is yours." I replied to the news, happy and a little surprised that I was so willing to go for another round of steamy sex with a complete stranger. It must be the fertility treatment I am on. The fact that I didn't even think of my boyfriend was shocking me a little bit. "Ryan, I need to go clean up a little bit and then I will be back." I had a mix of his cum and mine running down my inner thigh and I thought that I should clean up a little.

"Take your time, but I will be waiting here for your return." Ryan said with a smile his cock under the sheets hard and ready for more. I smiled at him and went into the office's bathroom. After going to the bathroom and cleaning up the small trace of virgin's blood, I looked in the mirror at myself. I had somehow changed. I looked more like an adult, felt more like an adult. Knowing that I just had sex with the sexiest man I had ever seen, and didn't feel bad about it, made me feel bad about myself a little, because I had always thought it would have been with Michael, my boyfriend and probably my future husband.

My black hair was now dry and more in a sultry wave. I fixed it and parted it so my hair looked better. I put my hand on my stomach and knew that by the year's end, I would be pregnant. It was a feeling but somehow I knew in the pit of my stomach, I would be with child by then. After experiencing tonight I don't think I could ever go through with the Artificial Insemination. The real thing felt too damn good. I turned to go back into the room and seen Ryan laying on the bed and I decided I wanted to learn as much as possible before my Freedom Party and he was going to teach me.




Odette Ch. 01



"I'm ready for you to teach me something new. Tell me what to do Ryan, and I hope I don't make a fool of myself or I'm not bad at it." I said with a small smile.

His smile got bigger and he motioned me to come over to him. He said, "Now it's your turn to be on top. Start kissing me and I will help guide you. And Odette, I'm sure you will be great at this too." He was sexy and sweet. Too bad he wasn't my boyfriend. Michael had a way of wanting his way all the time. And being around Ryan made me think of Michael as more childish and Ryan a man.

I went over to the bed laid in his strong arms, pressing into his chest and started kissing him. His arms wrapped around me and moved me so I was laying on top of him. His hands started moving up my back, to my neck and he moved his hands to entangle them in my hair. "Straddle me." Ryan said in his husky voice, I couldn't help myself, I had to obey him. 

I moved my legs to either side of him. My pussy rubbing on his dick. He held my hair in his hands and pushed my face into his kiss harder, while his cock wanted to slide in me. My juices started dripping onto his cock making him want me more. One of his hands moved down do guide himself into me. I felt the tip of his dick at my entrance. I was hovering over him, hesitant, not sure how deep he would go into me this way. He smiled and moved his hands to my waist and pushed me slowly down on him.

I groaned and sat up straighter on him and started rocking my hips and grinding on him with my head thrown back and moaning. "Oh yeah, ride me and my hard cock with you tight pussy Odette, your so fucking tight and feel so good." He was panting with his eye on me, gazing all over my body. His hands on my waist, he started to lift me up and slam me down on his dick. My pussy started to tighten even more at him taking control of my movements and squeezed his dick harder. 

"Mmm, Ryan that feels good. Cum inside me again, make me drip with your cum." I wanted him to cum in me all night, he felt so good. I leaned on his shoulders and started to change the angle of him entering me and I felt him get harder and bigger inside me. He was at his full 8 inches and his cock seems to have gotten thicker too. 

"Yeah, baby, ride me good. Odette, fuck me with that tight pussy. Make me cum inside your cunt." He had his hands on my hips, moving me faster and slamming me down harder and harder. My boobs bouncing like crazy now. Ryan sat up and started sucking on my nipple, making me gasp out and moan louder. He nibbled a little bit and I gasped in surprise, but that didn't stop him he started lifting me up and down on his cock, making a slapping noise as I came down on him. His eyes were searing into mine and I started to play with my boobs and rubbing my nipples. His mouth broke into a huge grin and his dick started throbbing. "Mmm you're a great fuck, Odette. You know what makes me close to cumming. You want me to cum in your pussy?" he asked me with a grin.

"Yes, fuck me until I scream. I want you to fuck me all night Ryan. Make me cum around your dick." I couldn't believe what I was saying but it felt so natural to say and I meant what I said. This was so much better than any of my fantasies or my dreams that I have been having lately. I wanted him to fuck me all night over and over again. His hard cock was all I could think about and also feeling his spunk spraying inside me was enough to make me cum all over him.

Ryan flipped me around and go on top of me. He grabbed my ankles and put them up over his shoulders as he pounded over and over into my dripping pussy. His cock pushed further into me and stretched me out more. I felt so full of his dick that I wanted more. Ryan was pumping into me harder and faster, our panting was in sync and we started to look into each other's' eyes and I could see that he was close.

"Fuck me until you cum Ryan, fill me up, your hard cock is so big and deep in me. Knock me up Ryan, fill me with your cum and make your virgin pregnant." His cock started to throb and I could feel some cum starting to shoot into me and fill me up, my pussy started to close tight around him as I started cumming harder than before feeling the cum shoot deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me and pushed into me as deep as he could go and stayed inside me this time.

"You're the best I have ever done this with. You are a complete natural like I have said before." He smiled and started kissing me again. We stayed like this for a half hour or so, I'm not sure how long we were in this position for. I was so relaxed that I fell asleep. 

The next thing I knew I was waking up with a weight on top of me. For some reason I thought that earlier was one of my dreams, as I looked over to the clock on the nightstand it was 2:00 AM. Someone had come into the room and snuffed out the candles to prevent a fire from starting and instead stoked the fireplace. The crackling of the fire and Ryan still on top of me and breathing deep and regular, assured me that I wasn't dreaming and in fact this was real.

I started to kiss his neck. Smelling his scent, my pussy started to squeeze his cock that was still inside me. His dick started to respond to me and he was waking up. I felt him smile and start grinding into me. His dick started growing inside me. Getting bigger and harder, he started thrusting slow and steady as we kissed and moaned together. We had a perfect rhythm together. He would pull out and as he went back inside me I moved my hips toward him. His hand cradled my head and he sucked on my nipple. The silk sheet slipped away from us and the cool summer night air hit our gleaming skin. The moonlight and the light from the fire falling on my face and the side of his sucking on my nipple made everything perfect. His toned and perfectly tanned body was pressing into mine.

His other hand found my mouth and his thumb went inside.

I took this as my cue to start sucking on it. His cock instantly got harder and longer inside my pussy. His thrusts got faster and harder with him groaning. It didn't take long for us to cum together this time, my cunt overflowing with cum. 

He laid beside me and I laid my head on his chest with his arm around me. His scent on my body felt good. I never knew that I would like sweat on me, his scent smelt good. He brought the covers up over us and started to rub my shoulder with his fingers in small circles and then swirl to my back and then back to my shoulder and down my arm. I was completely aware that this would probably be the last time I would see Ryan. He kissed the top of my head, "Odette?"

I looked up at his face, "Yes?" he brought his mouth to mine and kissed me long and gentle. His mouth opening to mine and his tongue flicking my lips and mouth. I moaned and pushed closer to him. He withdrew and we both smiled. 

"I don't usually stay all night with clients." Ryan stated. My heart sank, not wanting this night to end, not wanting the sun to rise. I would be content with it being dark for another week, just so I could spend it with him in this room. "But, I think I will. I will have to discuss some things with Fawn about your party if you don't mind, that I think you will like."

I smiled at him, "I will also have some things to discuss with Fawn, which I think you will like too. You can stay if you would like we are alone in the house except for the maids." He nodded and then closed his eyes and continued rubbing my skin with his fingers. Ryan breathed in deeply the scent of my hair. I hugged closer to him and closed my eyes in exhaustion. Morning would come all too soon. This night of bliss was the prefect Pre-Party I could have asked for, Fawn did an amazing job. I can't wait for the Freedom Party that she has been planning for me, and I can't wait to tell her what else I want done for the Party also. I just hope that the next three days go by fast.

(Please stay tuned for what Fawn has planned for Odette's Gift Party and Adult Freedom Party)



Odette Ch. 01



"Listen to this," said GW, opening the book at a pre-marked page, trying to sound like Orson Wells, "Her nudity was as natural as though she had been long wont to run along the shore of his dreams." Looked up. "Isn't that something!" Eyes down, back to the book. "There was something slightly acrobatic about her bed manners. And afterwards she would skip out and prance up and down the room, swinging her girlish hips and gnawing a dry roll left over from supper." He closed the book, took off the glasses, handed then backwards to Lens, positioned behind him like a baseball catcher. "Can you do that, be Margot?"

"Certainly," gushed Odette, bubbling with enthusiasm. 

(While I glared angrily at Albinus.)

The audition followed: she the innocent Margot, he the lecherous Albinus. So convincing was she while reading her lines that at times I no longer saw Odette, I saw Margot. Odette was not yet twenty, and I have no idea how old Margot was supposed to be, but when she was reading the lines and playing the part, she was no longer the Odette I'd watched growing up. Instead she became this vibrant, savvy, sexual muse called Margot. But as soon as she stopped, the Odette I knew flowed back, into the sassy yellow dress. 

Then it was time for 'bed work', whatever the hell that was! 

After our brief exchange in the bathroom – Odette changing, me escaping to the bedroom before she took off too much – I found myself a position in a corner of the bedroom, out the way. I started to consider my position. 

Whose interests was I protecting here? 

Was I on the side of the parents, whose concerns were the reason I was here? Or was I on the side of their daughter, who had explained her position, and wanted me to act on her behalf while I was here? 

Did I remember what THEY wore when they first used my pool? 

(Had they ever used it, other than at barbecues?) 

If I acted against Odette's interests, she would know it: she was here. I would suffer, so would she. If, on the other hand, I failed to comply to the letter with her parents wishes ... who would tell them? 

Odette?

Hardly likely!

Odette, having changed into her 'chic Parisienne shirt dress' – as GW had described it – glanced at me briefly as she came from the bathroom. She was noting where I was: unspoken message: Okay, remember our agreement, remember that I love you ... or something along these lines. 

Her dress was pale cream with a pink pin stripe, open collar, short sleeves, grey buttons down the front. It was loose around her waist but tight across the hips and breasts – as if it was something she had worn when younger, but now had grown out of. The tightness of the fit and the lightness of the cotton announced, none too quietly, that she'd taken off her bra. She stood still as Lens prowled round her with his light meter. GW entered the room. Then the Albinus sack of shit, looking smug. GW briefed them, It was Paris in the 1930s. She and Albinus would come into the bedroom after an intimate dinner. He was smitten by her, desperate to get her into bed. She was happy to encourage his attentions, knowing the potential if all went well: impoverished youngster to spoiled mistress of a man of means; deprivation to a life of luxury for her, loneliness to ecstasy for him. 

Out they trooped, the two of them. 

The door closed. Three of us left in the bedroom – me, Lens, GW.

"Not a sound, understand?" said GW, to me.

"I understand," I said, but found the prospect harrowing.

"Lights."

And up they came.

"ACTION!" he called loudly, so they could hear beyond the door. 

Odette entered first, her expression one of urgency, gaiety, appearing out of breath as if they had run up the stairs to get here as quickly as they could. He too seemed out of breath. The hair of both was roughed, as if they had done something outside the door. I wondered what. Had he pawed her? Had they kissed? Had the hands of each been in the hair of the other, angling heads so their mouths could meet? Quick try out – test run sort of thing, to see if they liked it? 

A necessary start to a shoot such as this? 

She was pulling him into the room. Once through the door she turned and pushed him hard against it, slamming it shut, pushing herself against him. Closing her mouth on his as her hands reached high and flattening on the door either side of his head. His hands went quickly round her. One closing over a buttock, the other on the small of her back, pulling her close. Then the room was filled with the sounds of laboured breath, saliva meshing with lips, her little grunts and groans, the rasp of skin against her dress as she moved, and his hands moved over her. 

I could make out the moving bulge in her cheek, like a mouse within, where his tongue was exploring her mouth. Then the transfer of movement, from her cheek to his, as she did the same, to him. How could she do that? She'd never even met him before? He wasn't even pleasant. Torsos pressed hard into each other. Each with a thigh between their own, pressing hard, starting to grind as the heat of the kiss was ratcheted up. 

Where had she learned to kiss like that? 

She'd kissed me on the lips, but never like this. 

The first time we'd kissed, at one of her birthdays – thirteen, fourteen, somewhere there – and after that, quite often. She had the most kissable lips: sweetly shaped and plump, in the shape of a heart. She was always the initiator. I was usually off guard, doing something else. She did it, I sometimes thought, to show her independence. Or maybe to tease or embarrass me, for it usually did both. But these had been light, chaste, quick, fun. Brief punctuations on her way someplace else: to the pool to swim, or from the pool, off home. But here, against the door with this stranger ... this was different. Totally different. This was raunchy, urgent, hungry, hot. 

Had I ever imagined my Odette would kiss like this? 

"Turn her round, we want to see her front," GW barked. 

Lens was adjusting a camera, three of which seemed to be running. 

The instruction was greeted by the couple with minimal change. As if the kiss was important, the instruction less so. Odette's thighs, I noticed, had closed round one of his, and his knee had climbed. The top of his thigh was between her legs, pressed hard against her pudenda. From the tightening and curling of her buttock it appeared she was riding the curve of his leg, as if arousing herself a final few times before co-operating, by turning around, so that the camera, and all of us, could 'see her front'. 

We'd already seen her front. Without the bra, and with the tightness of the bodice of her dress: we knew her front was fine. Just fine. Her breasts were as plump and assertive in her chest, as her lips were impressive in her face. 

As Odette turned in the circle of his arms she kept the break of kiss 'til last. As if he was her lover. As if she disliked the idea of bringing the kiss to an end, or letting his thigh from between her legs; surrendering the pressure that was bringing her arousal and delight. 

The final parting of lips, the sad breaking of the link between their eyes, the trailing of her fingers down his cheek, reluctantly turning away, still in the circle of his arms, and finally, once round and facing the room, leaning her back against his chest. Her hands reached for his and guided them to parts of her she felt he might enjoy. 

There was a wantonness in her dreamy, yet eager expression. The way she deliberately placed his hands on herself and encouraged him to feel what they were put against. As if she wanted to project a desire: a desire to be wanted, coveted, used. The fact that it was Odette projecting this desire had the uncomfortable effect of releasing, in me, what I can only describe as a dammed up torrent of confused and suppressed emotions. I suddenly wanted to be him, doing that, to her. 

Excruciatingly arousing, yet so damnably forbidden. 

I should look away, I knew, but somehow wasn't able to. 

I had to watch. 

I had to watch, as she moved his upper hand onto her breast, naked within her dress, and pressed it against herself. Flattening the breast within, parting her lips, letting out a throaty groan as she arched her back and raised her knee and lifted her foot off the carpet. Her knee climbed high and her thighs came tightly together. 

I felt I was there, in his shoes. The feel of her imagined breast in my hand. Making her react, as he was. Making her excited, as she was becoming. To conclude that it was anything other than genuine arousal she was feeling, was impossible. She was too good, too convincing. 

I turned away. 

When she was in her mid-teens, she was already painfully attractive. So much so that on week-ends, when we were together at the pool, and my awareness of her became too much to bear, I would take myself off to the far reaches of the garden and find something useful to do. In the early years I think she thought of me as a rather boring old accountant, always happy to see her, but who disappeared a lot, late afternoon, to clip the hedge, or trim a border, mow some grass. 

Had she known what was going through my mind now, in that room, turned away as I was from what was taking place against the door, how it would have changed her good opinion of me!

"Feel her, explore her, enjoy her. Princess, this is great. Lens, get the Hand Cam, move closer. Say whatever you want to each other, we'll put the sound in later."

"Get hot, you little fucker," whispered the man with the girl in his arms.

I could feel the simmering arousal by the door. One of the spots was turned up, a fading of floods. I turned. His hands were on her breasts, delighting in their size and shape; the way they filled his hands, the way they moved and felt, the way she gasped and squirmed as if her breasts controlled her mood, her excitement, how aroused she became. He fondled them roughly, then warmly, then softly. His mouth was on her neck, his tongue against her skin, licking her, as he squeezed her, and she arched her back and thrust her rear into his groin. 

How hard he must be, by now, I thought. The movement of her backside against him like that. Hard then soft against his groin. Tensed then arched, then curled then stretched, as she responded to his touch like a cat that adored to be petted, would eagerly respond to the touch of her mistress. An inexhaustible appetite of wanting more, appreciating every slightest touch, gasping with excitement at the faintest caress, moaning with arousal at his kiss. Animal, lewd, so obviously vulgar – yet the animal body, but angelic face, of the Odette I'd known for all these years, seemed the perfect vehicle to convey the transformation: purest angel to lustful vixen, all from the touch of a man. 

"Magic, Magic, Magical," chirped GW, happily, bouncing lightly up and down on the soles of his feet. "Now open her dress. Slowly, like a strip tease. Expose her to the cameras. Feel her. Make US feel her. Princess, this is hot. Hot. Hot!" 

As if praise was itself an aphrodisiac, she stretched her neck and arched her back and thrust her chest into the hands that were around her ... prompting her responses, causing her distress ... spirited arousal, animal groans. 

I watched the first grey button loosed. The pull of the material across her breasts widening and deepened the V at her neck, driving it closer to her waist, opening an arrowhead of skin, headed south. A second button loosed, and then a third. The arrowhead a growing band of flesh. Fourth and fifth buttons released and now the arrow of skin was from chin to the neat little navel I had seen, so often, round my pool. His hand moved into the gap, fingers inside, angling upwards, moving, then finding, then closing around the breast within. It caused her eyes to roll, her head to angle upwards, as from her opening mouth a guttural, animal, groan escaped.

"Great. Really great. Lets see that look, princess." GW's voice had leapt an octave. "Desire. Arousal. Animal lust. You have a man who is so hot for you it's agony for him. But you know what he wants. He wants you. And you are going to give him what he craves. You're going to give him you ... your body, inside and out. To do with as he pleases! And this arouses you, excites you, is driving you mad! SHOW US, SHOW US NOW, WHAT YOU FEEL!" 

The briefest hesitation – during which she seemed to regather herself – then her hands stole back to his. His left she moved lower on herself, fingertips over the bulge of her pubis inside her dress. Keeping her hand on top of his she moved his hand against herself, a circular pressure that drove it lower, fingers between her legs, pelvis curling backwards, out of reach. Out of reach to what her actions were enabling, as if she wanted to feel the touch of his fingers in her intimate parts, but other parts of her were less convinced. 

His other hand worked warmly on her breast, inside her dress, against the skin. Hers, outside the dress, bore down on his. And as she used her hands on his to arouse, excite herself, so her body moved against the motion of the hands. Mouth nervously open, eyes carefully closed, her expression sometimes ecstatic, at others filled with surprise, as if in awe of what was happening to herself. Creating sudden thrusts, pulsing spasms, groans and whimpers, gasps and sighs. 

"Open her dress, let the camera see what you're doing," GW prompted.

But nothing changed. The Odette I knew, it seemed, had left. And the animal Odette was busy. 

How much of this was acting?

"Albinus. For God sake, open her dress!" GW growled. But the animal Odette was running things. It was she who moved and pulsed and groaned and made it real. Odette the excited queen, Albinus the boring bishop's pawn. "Feel me!" she groaned. "Take off my dress," she urged. "Kiss my ears," she begged, as her youthful body moved against him like a landed trout against an oilskin on the bottom of a boat. 

Albinus the oil skin.

"Cut! Cut! Cut! Christ all-fucking-mighty. CUT!"

GW's slippered footsteps across the carpet sounded like approaching thunder. Odette was hauled roughly from his grasp. Twirled around so Albinus and she were face to face, GW behind. His arms shot roughly round her. One hand cleared the dress from her chest and brutally grabbed her naked breast. The other lifted the hem and went to work between her legs, so hard it looked to hurt. "She's hot," he growled at Albinus. "You want her. She's going to be your mistress. Cost you a fortune. You are going to lose everything because of your lust for this woman. So show me LUST!" He harshly pushed her back at him. Odette, looking startled, one hand beneath her dress, readjusting her thong. The other closing her dress. 

He had been pretty rough.

I took a step towards her, "You want to leave?" I whispered.

The hurt on her face, became shock. "You're joking, right?"

I hadn't been. 

But ... 

Whatever.

"Tell him!" shouted BW, back in the gloom, out of the shot. 

I had no idea who he was talking to, or about, but Odette seemed to. She turned to Albinus – the star, the leader, the seasoned pro, (the useless, lousy, sack of shit) – and said to him, as if speaking to a child, "You know you want to touch me. So I'm letting you. I'm saying its okay." Her hand gently stroked his cheek. "I want you to touch me. Understand. You can do whatever you want to me. I'm telling you it's fine. I'm saying I like it." She gave an encouraging smile, leaned forward, kissed him softly on the lips, then cupped the front of his trousers with her hand, and gave it a squeeze, then turned away from him. Faced back into the room.

She would say that, of course.

Without being told, she again leaned back against him, reached for his hands and drew them round herself, bared her left breast and place his right hand over it. His other hand, this time, she guided beneath her dress and placed it there, ensuring his fingers were curled between her legs. She kept her hands on top of his, encouraged him to feel her. The lights, switched off during GW's demonstration, had not yet come back on. The filming not yet restarted.

"Get used to the feel of her," said GW.

"Do whatever you want to me," said Odette, pressing her hands over his, making them move over her.

"Are we ready?" GW enquired, sarcastically, as if it was all a stretching routine before some strenuous sport, and the stretching was taking too long.

"Just a sec," said Odette, and twirled around to face him, placed her right hand over his trousers, gripped the length of what was there, leaned into him and whispered in his ear as she caressed what was in his trousers, then closed her teeth around his ear lobe, and bit. He jerked, and his mouth opened – perhaps to voice objection – but no sooner had, than her mouth closed over his. She kissed him deeply. When she was done, she gave the erection in his trousers a final squeeze, patted his cheek with her other hand, turned around, and replaced his hands on her. 

"Right," she said, "we're ready

The lights came on. 

"Action," snapped GW.

I found it impossible to rid my mind of the image of Odette calmly grasping the front of his trousers. I had difficulty reconciling the gentle image I had of the lovely girl, happily growing up, cleverly becoming a woman, displaying the skills she learned, each day. 

Where had she learned to do that? 



Odette Ch. 02



 Part 2 – The up-set



As the cause of GW's outburst – the feckless Albinus – did his best to up his game, and Odette did her better best to help him, so the shift dress lost its button hold down the front and slipped down her arm. Her other breast came into view. I had seen them bared before, now and then, although never deliberately – at least I don't think it was deliberate – so I knew how pleasing they were on the eye. Large enough, and soft enough, and inviting enough to want to fill the hand, yet firm enough to always keep their shape. In the outer, lower quadrant of each a bikini's small triangle of paler cream against the healthy glow of gold that covered the rest of her body. The nipples, neat and round and coloured rose, positioned high atop the pear shaped pull where the bulk of breast became the tantalising lower curve. Her health and youthfulness giving the whole the assertive build of mound. She was fourteen when she needed a bra, fifteen when they filled out her top, sixteen when they couldn't be missed ... and forced me away to clip hedgerows, or cut grass, in the garden's distant reaches.

"Better," growled GW, approvingly. 

Lens, with hand-held, edged professionally closer.

I stood in my corner, sweating. 

How could any man fail to consider, even if only fleetingly, what it would be like to hold her like that? Feel her like that? Kiss her neck and shoulders like that? Lick her skin, nibble her, bite her. Feel how hot and moist her juices were between her legs. The hot engorged bulk of her breasts. The hard aroused nub of her nipples. Knowing, all the while, that she was willingly permitting it. Knowing that when you fondled and stroked, her response was excitement, arousal at what you were doing. Her excitement fuelled by a growing anticipation that soon you would do more.

To her. 

And that she wanted, yearned for, you to do more. 

To her. 

How should I feel about this ... as a friend? 

The hoary crust of forbidden fruit, cracked open, passion rushing free.

"Take off her dress," barked GW.

I watched as she let herself be moved. Allowed the dress to be smoothed over elbows, off wrists, hands, tossed to the carpet, left in a pile. No sooner away than the slender golden length of her took centre stage again. The shapely bulk of breasts, the sylphlike tiny waist, the lithe midriff flowing seamlessly to the womanly curve of her hips; the snowy white strip of her thong, slung low; the long and shapely length of legs, neat ankles, bare footed on the carpet. 

How could one not wish to do that, to her? What he was doing, to her? Lusting over the lovely girl like a salivating stag over Bambi. I watched his hand between her legs. Her knees as they came together. Her torso drop as both knees bent and her backbone curled. The anguished groan squeezed out of her, bent over with emotion. The curl and stretch, like an opening bloom, as she corkscrewed around to face him, curl her arms around his neck, and lock her mouth on his. 

"I need to see her face," said GW, softly, as if aware they were kissing not for him, any more, but for themselves, some self indulgent passion to explore. The message filtered through ... eventually. He broke their kiss. Reluctantly. Turned her around, her eyes no longer sharp, acute, more dreamy, slightly lost. Opened a hand on her stomach, the other lower, over the front of her thong. His fingertips over her pubis, a neatly trimmed patch of hair apparent within. She leaned against him, trustingly, head against his shoulder, back against his chest. 

"Put your hand inside her thong but keep it on, we need it in the shot," said GW, matter-of-factly, as if it were a cooking demonstration. 

I watched as he carefully pressed his hand against the skin of her stomach, fingers straight and pointed down. I watched them move. The tips approached the waistband of her thong, mid way between navel and pubis. The pressure transferred, palm to finger tips. The give of skin beneath. The soapy slip of fingers under waistband, progress now inside her thong. 

Imagining ... the copse of silky pubic hair. The changing terrain from muscle of tummy to pubis and bone. Over pubis. Under that as fingers curl. Then in at last between her legs. The soft engorgement, pulsing heat, the slick and honeyed thickness of arousal. 

She gasped aloud. 

Her knees came hard together, legs gave, back arched, buttocks drove backwards into him. The movement of his fingers, moving her. A tiny stroke from him: an anguished curl and gasp from her. 

His fingers started worming further in, the fingers moving faster, quicker, hungrier. Her pelvis backed first one way, then the other, then whipped right, then pulsed forward, urgently, into the attack. 

"Keep it up, don't let it slip!" GW shouted, sounding concerned. 

A problem with the thong, it seemed. 

He'd pushed it so far down his hand could now be seen between her legs. Genitalia as well. Glistening with her lavish lubrication. 

Verbotten, forbidden, not allowed. 

The complicated nature of the moment ... BW's agenda, to produce a film, to present to clients, to promote Odette, to earn a fee ... solid and important, like a venerable bridge. Film Censorship Rules – what they could and could not show – floating overhead like a cloud. While beneath the bridge's gloomy arches, an intimate assignation, between two lusting animals. 

Sub plots, if you will.

"Ngaaar!" she groaned, back arching hard. 

I closed my eyes.

When Odette was fifteen she decided she had changed to such a degree that perhaps when the two of us were alone, together, around the pool – which we often were, Laura having taken over International Procurement for her company by now – then perhaps she didn't need to address me as 'uncle' any more. I had no problem with that. But she felt she should explain. 

"You don't consider me a girl any more, do you?" she asked. I shrugged, surprised, confused, and lost for words. She was wearing a black and white checkerboard bikini, with red trim, and the trim containing not the largest triangles of material I had ever set eyes on. "If you see me as decorative," she went on, "and think of me as a man thinks of a woman," (I said nothing,) "Then perhaps I can simply call you 'Merv', or 'You' (as she sometimes did)." I said fine, then headed for the garden's far reaches. 

As I was walking away, wondering where the hedge clippers were, she called after me, with mischief in her tone. "Now you can look at me without feeling guilty!" 

I took her at her word, and she noticed that I did. 

But it never went further than that. 

Now she used 'uncle' only when she wanted something. 

Or to tease me.

I opened my eyes.

"Ngaaargh," she keened, back arched, shoulders curled around her ears. His hand was imprisoned between her thighs, that were clamped tight around it. Thighs rock solid, knees seemed weak. Dropping to the floor, taking him with her, spooned around her back as he was like a glove around a baseball. She suddenly broke, and turned, energised, aggressive. Her hand reached for the buckle of his pants, the other cupped what was inside. Belt open, zip down, before it was apparent what was happening.

"No!" GW shouted. "Mainstream. Blow job's out!"

Is that was she was going to do?

"Get to the bed," he barked.

She broke away, reached for Albinus, dragged him, backing towards the bed. 

But his hand got entangled in her thong, and his pants came down, he tripped. 

Face down on the carpet, hand in her thong, thong around her knees.

"Shit!" GW's angry voice. "Cut! Cut! Cut!" 

A lecture followed. The sack of shit bristled. GW pounded the bed. Lens turned down the lights. Odette worked at getting her breath back, and her thong back to where it belonged. I turned to the corner and looked at the wall. 

From the sweet adorable kitten I had grown to love, into this ... this what? ... smouldering panther! I wasn't sure how to handle it. In some ways it was a revelation, in others, I wondered how I'd missed it all these years. How could anyone look like she did, and not be hit on by boys – what was I talking about, hit on by pretty near everyone, priests and professors included! Wouldn't that turn her head? Wouldn't that get her thinking? Wouldn't that get her into bed? 

At least with some of them.

I turned back into the room. She looked hot and flushed, was breathing heavily, chest and breasts rising and falling rhythmically, practically naked, glistening with beads of sweat, wearing a thong so brief it was more like a garnish to entice than a garment to protect her soft modesty. The effect of her curves, the invitation of her skin, the sensual magnetism that rose from her, like heat, the shape so delightfully sculpted, all so temptingly visible.

How could anyone look that good, that appetising.

And not, by now, have been keenly introduced to raging sex?

"Okay?" queried GW, to Albinus, his lecture now completed.

"OKAY!" Albinus barked back, bristling still. 

Odette was by the bed, hands clasped before her, breasts looking luscious, toes turned in, tiny frown of concentration on her face. 

How much more of this could I take?

"The film 'The Lover', you remember that? On the Bed. Camera overhead. Your back, her face. Rest, up to you. Know what I mean?" The question, from GW, was aimed at Albinus who sullenly nodded his head – not a happy camper – but yes, he understood. 

Odette looked on ... seeming to quivering, just slightly. 

If she knew what the reference to 'The Lover' was, she hid it well. Me, I hadn't a clue. Something special happen? 

GW turned to Odette. "Okay?"

"Okay, I'm hot to go," said Odette, in a throaty, sexy, voice.

The lights came on.

"ACTION," shouted GW, as if it were the set of a Hollywood Blockbuster.

Did she just say, 'hot to go'?

I suppose what happened next was so unexpected, that in itself explains why I didn't do something. Take action, object, call Stop, or Cut, or whatever they call. But I didn't. I didn't do anything. I just stood there, watching, wondering if this was okay. 

Weren't there rules against this? 

The two of them, quickly, effectively, and surprisingly efficiently – while locked in amorous clinches, or otherwise wrapped round each other – stripped off Albinus's clothes – and I mean all of them – leaving them in a dishevelled trail across the carpet. The last, boxer shorts that looked a size too small, pink hearts on a lime green background, got caught on the edge of the bed, where they hung, limply, like a flag on a staff on a calm day, until their owner climbed onto the bed, and started shaking it. The now naked Albinus, and the practically naked Odette, were all over each other like battling ferrets, either trying to kill the other, or rut – difficult to tell. 

What got to me most, was the calm way Odette, while engaged in a heated French kiss, reached between their bodies for his partially engorged penis – rudely available even if, being between them, not in view – and started to bring it to life. 

Where had she learned to do that? 

GW cautioned her – but in what was almost an approving tone – to keep doing what she was doing, but keep it between them; conceal it from the camera, in other words. Albinus was groaning. Odette's legs were trembling. "Fellatio's out," GW reminding her, as she started to slither down him.

"Gorgeous little rear, we could focus on that," suggested Lens, kneeling by the side of the bed, large camera hoisted on his shoulder. 

GW agreed, reconsidered his earlier admonishment, and said she could go ahead. 

I tried not to take it personally – or any other way – as Odette went down on the guy, and Lens had a field day with the light, and the angles, on her pert derrière, which by now was sticking up and twitching in the air. He reached forward, at one point, to adjust the lie of the crotch of her thong between her legs. There was an extravagant damp patch in the centre, stained by her juices. After he'd adjusted the thong he gave the area a soft caress, perhaps feeling the constituency of the damp, or perhaps feeling her, but whatever he was doing, Odette groaned, rolled her hips, and thrust herself back into the touch. This tempted a further try, which he did. Her reaction was the same. 

I looked at my watch. 

It was after nine. 

I looked at my shoes, on the carpet. I wondered where Laura was now. Shanghai? Or had she moved on to Manila? What was the date? I recalled it. She'd be in Manila by now. She seemed to like it there. Last time she went she bought me a formal shirt. Huge collar. And cuffs. Embroidery down the front.

Once I felt I had my emotions in check, and was confident I wasn't going to shout, or yell, or throw a fit and ruin Odette's chances, I lifted my eyes and looked at the bed. GW had warned Lens off. Odette was under Albinus, her knees spread wide, his butt between them. Albinus's back was under scrutiny from the lens. Tight thrusting from his buttocks as if he was really inside her. The camera stayed on his back, the ripple and tensing of muscles. It was not a great back, I thought. Mine was as good. And my muscles were better ... I think, I thought ... but what the hell did I know? Then something went horribly wrong. 

Whether it was Lens, playing with Odette, annoying GW – or Odette had said something, or done something, that Albinus didn't like – or GW didn't like – or it was some private thing, between Albinus and Lens – or for that matter, Odette and Lens – I had no idea, but one minute everything was focussed, and heavy, and hot, and the next, it had blown apart. Where there had been a couple, on the bed, getting it on, and three around them, watching, one with lots to do, one with nothing to do, one ready to shout at the drop of a hat – or a thong – now there was nothing but the same five people, gesticulating, shouting, arguing – all except Odette, and me. We stayed where we were, said nothing, did nothing, just watched.

"And fuck you too!" said GW, to the back of an agitated Albinus who was rounding up his clothes from the carpet, snatching them into his chest, making for the door, turning when he reached it, letting out a torrent of abuse, like a fishwife in a market, on a bender. 

What the hell was that all about? 

Odette was on her back, on the bed, glistening with sweat, chest and breasts heaving, eyes focussed vaguely on the mirror overhead. 

What was she thinking? 

No way of knowing.

"Remind me never to work with that asshole again!" said GW, as the door slammed shut.

"Right GW," said Lens with the camera on his shoulder as his eyes wandered over Odette on the bed.

"What have you got?"

"Missing her face. Didn't do his ass," said Lens.

"The final bars, you mean?" said GW, sounding like Mozart.

"Maybe," said Lens, who appeared to be thinking, eyes still on Odette, "Maybe we could get the final bits. Fit it together later."

"Whatdya mean?"

Odette closed her eyes. Her arms were thrown out to either side. Legs spread wide, one straight the other bent. Her hair like a halo round her face. 

An angel, sleeping.

"I could get the reaction ... you could run the camera," suggested Lens.

"In your dreams," said GW, dismissively.

"Okay," said Lens, petulant, eyes going from Odette, on the bed, to GW, staring at the closed door. "YOU get the reaction, I run the camera. Whichever way we do it we gotta do something. Otherwise we got zilch."

GW, eyes on the girl. Thinking. "We'll ask the princess."

Lens, his eyes there too. "Okay."

Me, I'd had enough of this. 

I went into the bathroom, threw water on my face, had a piss, straightened my hair, looked at my reflection in the mirror, wondered why I felt so frigging hot. Must be the camera lights. Wondered about my erection, still there despite the piss. Could lights do that as well? Back out. Two faces. Looking right at me. 

GW: "She wants you to help."

"Help ..." I spluttered, "what do you mean, help?"

Odette had rolled over onto her front, head in her arms, eyes still closed. 

Her butt was like a baby's. 

You wanted to reach out and feel it, or squeeze it, or throw your arms around it and draw it to your face. I could never get enough of looking at it. It had sent me to the hedge at the bottom of our garden more times than I could count.

"We need a backside shot," said GW, "you're not dissimilar to him."

"Him?" They'd lost me.

"And we need her face."

Her face? They had a billion miles of footage of her face. Lens had been there through it all, sometimes inches close.

"You've got her face," I said.

"Not the final bars."

Mozart again. What was he talking about?

Lens, "We need the final shots to show ... what do you call it, GW?"

"Consummation of the act."

Oh ... 

I looked at Odette, lying there like a sleeping angel, practically naked, that cute baby bottom of hers: two luscious mounds poking up in the air. 

"Let me get this straight," I said, starting to do so in my mind. "The story in your ..." What did they call it?

"Demo Reel."

"Thank you ... Demo Reel. The story in your demo reel has to start with them entering the bedroom, and finish with ..."

"Consummation of the act."

"Right, consummation. And you have everything but his ass, and her face, for the final ..."

"Few bars. That's correct."

"And you want me to ..."

"Help, that's right."

Lens, "If you don't we've got zilch. And your friend's got the same."

"And her chances of getting the part are nil," added GW, unnecessarily.

I stared at the bed. "What would I need to do?" I asked, putting the points in some sort of order.

"Nothing at all," said Lens.

"Get your gear off, lie on her, look as if you're screwing her ..."

"Until we tell you to stop."

"Meaning, until the little lady has a mind blowing orgasm."

"Or appears to."

"And we have a shot of your clenched butt as if you are having the same."

"What's 'The Lover'." I asked, getting the picture.

"Just a movie."

"No," I said, it wasn't just a movie. "What happened in it. Why is it relevant. Why did you mention it to the guy who just left?"

Odette rolled over onto her side, her head cradled in her arms, watching us, listening to what we were saying. 

GW, "The love scenes in the movie were so lifelike, especially the position and rhythm of the guy's clenching butt, and the facial expressions of the girl, that a lot of people thought they were actually having sex when they were filming."

I took a deep breath.

Oh.

"Any more questions?" said GW, patient as Job.

I looked at Odette. "I can't do this," I said to her.

"Yes, you can," said GW.

"Piece of cake," said Lens.

"Please," whispered Odette, her eyes on mine as big as they could be.

"I need a minute," I said, determined to think this through.

"You're making the princess cool off."

"She can't keep up the tempo, starting and stopping like this."

"So ..." I looked from one to the other.

"Strip off, go to her, we'll give you time to get into character, then screw her. Christ, who wouldn't like to do that."

How do we get ourselves into these situations? 

"This okay," I asked, down to my boxer shorts.

"Can't see your butt. We need to see it clenched, fit to burst."

I looked at the bed. Odette on one elbow, watching.

"Look away," I said to her, half jokingly.

"I want to see," she said.

"Can't we take it off a later," I suggested, right now so all-fired nervous my little guy was very, very small. "We can take them off once we're 'in character'," I said, at least having picked that up.

"Sure, off camera, why not," said GW, agreeing. Figuring, perhaps, that Odette would get rid of the cause of my reluctance. "You two get it on. Lens will come around you, checking skin, reflection, lighting, but don't worry about him. Just get comfortable with the girl. And once you're both ready, we'll take it from when you enter her."




Odette Ch. 02



Enter her?

He turned away. 

Lens went into his box of tricks, rummaged around.

I looked at Odette. Mouthed, "What do I do?"

She sat up in the middle of the huge bed, grey satin sheets, scattered pillows. Her breasts changed shape as she rose, swaying as her torso came upright. She opened her arms to me. An invitation so unambiguous, so natural, so innocent it belied the seismic shift that my acceptance would surely have on our relationship. As if what she suggested was an everyday affair, rather than something that would turn how we thought about each other, upside down. I was already walking towards the bed, as if it was important not to seem weak, even if I didn't know what I would do when I got there. 

There were alternatives. 

"Go to her, get comfortable," said GW, encouragingly, almost kindly.

"I could be doing that," muttered Lens.

"Shut the fuck up," said GW.

"Come," whispered Odette with a sweet smile on her face. A smile I knew so well. How many times had I bathed in its effect, often still there long after she'd gone. 

My right knee lifted gingerly onto the bed: her feet, a foot ahead. I reached my left hand forward, flat on the cover, just by her foot. She leaned slowly backwards as I advanced, as if away from my approach, but her eyes stayed on mine, invitation deep within, arms still reaching out to me, encouraging me on. When her back touched the sheets, and her head sank into a pillow, she raised her knees and parted her legs, and invited me onto her length. 

My right hand moved beyond my left, by her foot, to a place on the sheets between her knees. My left knee followed. On all fours on the bed, crawling up to her like a stalking predator. Right hand, left knee. Left hand, right knee. My route between her legs, my eyes on hers. My right hand to one side, beyond her legs, placed on the sheets just next to her hip. The leading knee replaced the hand between her knees. The other hand, the other side, placed flat on the sheets beside her ribs. The forward knee between her legs, high up, the tip against her crotch. The feel of her response, a closing of her knees around my legs, the gentle pulse of her, as if surprised. My weight now on my knees and arms spread wide. Flat of hand on either side of the adorable face I knew so well. So innocently trusting. Yet with it too, a hint of curiosity. 

I carefully lowered myself over her to discover that what had been the cause of my resistance to taking off my briefs – a manly bit so shrunk as to be practically absent – was now rock hard, and ludicrously prominent. It stabbed her lower tummy, a stab of pain for me. She raised an eyebrow, smiled, then put a hand over her mouth. I adjusted my position, lowering my groin, reached under my hip and repositioned what was now an encumbrance, in the gap between her legs. The interlude broke the ice. We both smiled. She with pleasure, I think, at causing the effect. Me with embarrassment, and a sense of clumsiness. 

"Let's try again," I whispered.

"Let's," she whispered back, her smile still there.

Our eyes stayed on each other's, but our expressions had evolved ... from her early invitation and my nervous reluctance ... the humour shared at my erection ... the dawning realisation of what would happen next ... the advancing proximity ... the shared apprehension ... anticipation of imminent contact ... growing sense of wonder ... then our expressions began to melt, as contact came, then grew. 

One moment all I touched was the sheets on which she lay, but now our bodies were about to touch. I felt the heat from her skin before contact was made. The tip of my erection came into contact with the sheet between her legs, burrowed upwards, came to rest against the warm crotch of her thong: sticky, slick like syrup. The smooth skin of her thighs and hips came soft against my own. The softer meet of stomachs, rolling upwards. Contact climbing from hip, to middle, to upper part of stomach, lower chest, the upper roll of breasts. The scratch of nipples, assertively erect, as they traced a tiny path across my chest. The enveloping warmth against my own, as they sank into the cushion of her breasts, then flattened, spread. 

What we intended for our heads when they came together seemed an irrelevance as her sweet, soft, warm, plump lips came softly and naturally against my own. As if someone else was in charge. Some ethereal, heavenly, stage manager. God of hormones, working overtime. 

Every kiss I had ever received from Odette had been unimaginably soft, and feather light, and (agonisingly) fleeting. But the memory of every detail had stayed in my mind, stored away, to be re-savoured when I chose. Each stolen kiss had some little twist, or difference, that allowed me to categorise, remember, file away. A precious mental casket of secret delights. It was the tiny subtle differences of each, that made them memorable. But the very fact that she had ever felt the urge to kiss me at all, and had gone ahead and done so, was the greatest treasure of all.

Our kiss on the bed started out as all our kisses in the past had started out. Affection the driver, respect the constraint. The touch of her lips was as soft as goose down, as gentle as a butterfly, as innocent as a baby. My lips were equally light on hers. My hands on her cheeks held her carefully, like a priceless vase. Her arms snaked round my neck and gripped with firm assurance. Her lips moved gently under mine. 

The contact shared, the movement savoured, trust enjoyed ... but looming in the background, and sensed I think by both of us, the growing realisation – like a developing thundercloud, flashes and fire in its innards – that this was not to be our normal kiss. It would not to end with a light hearted, "Hi!" or, "Goodbye" from her; would not finish with her dancing off with a wave and a smile. This was a different animal. An animal, deep in the cloud, that had intimate places to explore, bowers to examine, emotions to stir ...

Desire to tempt, and drive, and tame. 

The first signs of the cloud closing in – our unaccustomed animal flexing its muscle, stretching its loins – was a marginal opening of her heart shape lips against my own. And then, a gentle thrust. In normal times, by this stage in our kiss, she'd have gone. Been half way back home, her happy farewell drifting off on the evening airs. But this was not a normal time. And she was not going home, this time. And this was not a normal kiss – not when I was naked, on a bed, and she was underneath me wearing nothing but a brief cotton thong.

I returned the kiss, cautiously. Taking care to keep the level of pressure equal to hers; the parting of lips, no more than hers. It seemed to set the rules, the way we should progress. She would lead, and I would follow. And that was only right, as I was twice her age, for me to force the pace would not be right. Her lips opened further under mine. Carefully, tentatively, like a sea anemone, testing the water with cautious fronds advanced, her lips the cautious fronds. I let my own respond. The water's fine, my lips declared, nothing to fear. With that, a growing spread of lips, the increased trust declared, caution backing off. The softer, moister, touch of inner lips. The quiet outpouring of blossoming desire. The enhanced arousal by widening lips yet further still on mine. And then I felt a cat like tip of tongue against my own.

Our mouths were open, lips spread wide against the other's lips, the taste of each now shared. As soon as our lips first pressed together, and hers had opened under mine, the immediate, almost uncontrollable urge had been to plunge my tongue roughly and forcefully into her mouth. To occupy, cause havoc, run amuck. But I had not. I had controlled myself, resisted, to see what she would do. It was for her to take the lead, we had agreed, it was our understanding. But would she use her tongue with me? Would she permit me to use mine with her? 

With my predecessor, she had, I was aware, but would she with me? 

I wasn't sure. 

But then she did. 

The tip alone, at first, slipped inquisitive into my mouth, touched mine, and stopped. I didn't move. The point of her tongue was neat, held pointed, tasted fresh. It started to feel the tip of mine like the delicate snout of a baby shrew, against another, a mother perhaps, in the dark, deep underground. It slipped around my tongue. Circled, fattened, probed. Then further in ... then slowly out. Then in again, its length against my own. A pause, and then it thickened, thrust, and with a groan her lips spread wide and her arms around my neck gripped tight and pulled me hard against her. 

What had started as a gentle exploration, expanded – exploded! – into something entirely different. Had I ever imagined I would have her tongue in my mouth, doing this? Answer, Never. Or that her arms would be wrapped so tightly round my neck that she was practically strangling me? Again, No. Or that I would feel the touch, on my naked backside, of her heels, tight around my hips, drawing me hungrily against her pubis. The answer still, was No!

"Her face, I want her face," I heard the muted tones: GW to Lens.

The lights were on, the cameras rolling. Had I missed the 'Action!' call?

Or had they said it quietly, not wanting us to stop?

Odette didn't seem to notice. All she showed interest in was drawing me ever closer into the circle of her arms and legs, meld my front with hers, flatten and roll her breasts against my chest. Her hands were in my hair, her mouth on mine. Her breasts were pancake flat against my chest. One of her legs was between mine, her groin grinding hungrily into my thigh, her other wantonly astride me. All bodily parts that she could bring to bear against me, legs and arms and torso, breasts and lips and mouth, were thrusting now, against my own. Savouring all that was there. 

Such sweet urgency. 

I revelling in the touch of eager skin against my own, the movement of muscles honed to health by swimming lengths, the drive that forced her search for what she wanted out of me. Driven by her body's needs, following its cravings. Enthusiastic urgency, the innocence of youth, the drive of raw abandon. It acted as a catalyst, pumping arousal, fuelling passion, encouraging lust. 

If this was acting, she was unimaginably good!

Odette, my little growing friend, who over the years had given meaning to bikinis that their creators could never have dreamt of. This unconscionably appetising girl, in the delightful oasis of her prime, lively and vibrant and healthy, delicately sculpted, exquisitely toned, who at this very moment was pressed hard against me, on this absurd round bed, with this ludicrous mirror overhead, giving a thoroughly convincing impression of wanting to be pressed, practically naked, against me. 

As the heat of abandonment drove the two of us ever further from the point of the exercise – as interpreted by others, mostly out of shot – it caused them to step in, now and then, and correct things. But such was our involvement with each other that these small interruptions hardly seemed to matter any more. They became mere opportunities to catch our breath, adjust positions, plan next steps. 

"No no no no. Cut cut!" 

Time out.

Odette had slipped down my body. She had settled between my legs, pulled my briefs down, reached for my erection, and put it in her mouth.

"That's out, we can't hide it," said GW, not pleased. "We've focussed on your butt, we don't need more of that." 

But she kept me in her mouth, fingers round the base like a baseball bat, eyes large and innocent, looking up at him. 

I doubt if I had ever been this hard, nor ever (let us face it) been this proud at being this hard. 

"Mainstream. No blow job!" GW repeated.

She moved her lips around the bulb of my erection, then sucked me further in.

"Don't blow him. He'll come. No good," GW pleaded, concerned.

She moved her head up, then down. Her hand on the shaft moved too. She kept her eyes on the rules referee, as if throwing down the gauntlet. She ran her tongue around the tip of the part of me under debate. He was shaking his head. She lowered her own. The warmth of her mouth, and the touch of her lips, slipped down my erection. 

Not a good idea. 

I froze, and reached for her head. 

I was about to spoil things, royally. 

"Okay, Okay," I said, pushing her away, easing me out of the warm moist heaven that was threatening my resolve. 

She let me go. Reluctantly.

"Put this on," said GW, to Odette.

Put what on?

Odette, I discover – why was I surprised, after all that had happened? – was as accomplished at unrolling a condom over my erection as she had been at getting my pants off. And taking me into her mouth. And exciting the bejeezus out of me! 

"Mainstream?" I found myself asking, vaguely, watching them dress the little fellow.

"Stop you messing the sheets, but keep it between you," he said, eyes on Odette as she stroked the finished product with affection. 

He arranged us as he wanted on the bed. She beneath me, me on top, rubber and genitalia well out of sight. Missionaries involved, though I didn't catch where. Or how. Once I was on top of her she squirmed and moved beneath me, slipping off her thong ... me, the modesty screen

"Up to you," said GW, in answer to a question from Odette I missed.

"They did it in The Lover," said Odette, to him.

"Up to you." He was now out of sight. 

The lights came on. I had no idea what they were talking about. Could have been a book, could have been a movie, could have been a cooking class. I was too busy settling into the other-worldly feel of having a practically naked Odette, feeling every bit as good as I had often imagined she might be, between me and the expensive sheets. Then I felt her hands snake between us, lower down, and then ... 

My mouth shot open as my eyes snapped shut. 

She was guided me into herself.

"Action!"

Odette's pelvis curled and thrust and her arms reached up. My head was dragged to her open mouth and keening groan and my erection thrust like a piston into the hot lovely creature I'd been of dreaming of forever. 

"Go for it," encouraged GW.

A Hand Cam was stuck in my face, but I hardly noticed. The emotional universe of self that one enters when taking possession of someone as precious, to me, as Odette was, in the way I was taking possession of her – while she, no doubt, and perhaps with more accuracy, considering who was in whom, might feel it was she who was taking possession of me – was a universe usually closed. 

Like a locked cinema. 

But once unlocked, and opened, and the magic was permitted to flow, it became a wonderland. A cocktail of arousal that swamped the senses and hijacked the brain. It softened here, and there, yet also tightened focus other places. With encouraging force it thrusts with lust, then softens ... becomes such sweet surrender ... then back atop the steed, to drive on hard and fast. 

At some stage in the midst of the conflict, engaged between we two – the older owner of the swimming pool and the younger user of the same – either her awareness of the need for centre stage – the action, after all, was all for her – or an urge to manage matters more suited to her wants, she lifted me off with a careless flip of her pelvis, moved around me, and ended up astride me, she on top. To see her there, towering over me, back arched, expression one of pained amazement, mouth agape, with guttural sounds emanating like hot lava from a volcano. 

The movement of stomach like the slow motion of a belly dancer. The expression on her lovely face, of seeming pain, concern, and hints of hidden rapture. The movement of her torso, riding me as she was. The pulsing of the sheath that held me tight. The urgency apparent in her face. The beads of sweat the glistened on her skin. The power of shoulders, bulk of breasts, the swaying luscious rhythm they portrayed. 

She started to scream as I lifted her up with a thrust of my pelvis, and her own angled back, and she sucked me inside her as far as I could go. Her pulsing powered, then peaked. Her fingers on my chest clawed hard as I started to pump and fill the small plastic sack at the end of the condom she'd carefully affixed. Her yelps came fast and loud and evolved into cries as she arched her back and opened her pelvis and thrust her hips. In the mirror overhead it looked as if I had grown a female-shaped penis, of rare and wondrous beauty.

"Fucking brilliant," said Lens.

"Fucking A!" agreed GW.