2 comments/ 30179 views/ 2 favorites Go With The Flow Ch. 01 By: Margin Walker 1 I can go... "That's great Rachel. Now look back at me..." ...with the flow. "Toss your hair over so it's covering...exactly. That's beautiful." I can throw it all away. "Now, lean back. Remember. You're ecstatic. You're horny. You're alone..." Nothing I need anymore. "That's it. You're a prisoner to your own desire. Give me those eyes. Oh, that's beautiful." Just shut it down. "You're gorgeous. You're desirable. Every man wants you." Let it all just slip away. "Now slowly lay back and let your legs spread apart..." They're just pictures after all. "...wider. Oh, that's beautiful." It doesn't really matter. "Yeah, just like that. Touch yourself. Slowly. You're enjoying this." Just playing along. "Now, get on the floor and get on your hands and knees." Just flowing through. "Look back at me while you do that, but close your eyes." It's not real. "That's beautiful. You're beautiful." I'm not... "Now open your eyes. Look at me. With lust now." ...here. "Just like that. Oh, baby, you are the best." I can go... "Now, one final look like you're having an orgasm. Make noises if you need to. Get into it." ...with the flow. "That was perfect, Rachel. Perfect. You're perfect." He's walking towards me and I can just shut him out. I know I can. "You're so beautiful. So much more beautiful than the others." Are they lies? Does it matter. He doesn't need to lie. He doesn't need to convince. I'm here. I can go with the flow. "I've never felt like this with any of the others. There's just something about you. I know this isn't professional, but..." The lights are burning my back now. The lights are too bright, but that's needed to give the proper shadows to the female form, to make it more desirable. To make me more desirable. I am the it. "...I just can't help myself. You know? You feel it too don't you, baby? You feel that connection?" He continues to talk, but what's there to say? Nothing. Just do it so I can go home. I need a shower. I need to lie down. "Yeah, me too. I felt it when you came in here, but during the shoot...whew, you just blew me away." His hands are on me. His eyes are looking into my eyes now. But they wander. He can't look me in the eyes. Why is that? No man can. What do they see? What do they not see? "I just...I just want to make love to you." Touching me all over, and it almost feels good. I close my eyes. I want to give in, give in completely. It should feel good. The lights are hot. I hear the camera still clicking. It's on a timer. He wants to capture this moment. That's fine. They are just pictures after all. He's on top of me and he's fumbling between my legs. He's searching, his fingers digging into me roughly and then he finds it and spreads it apart and then he's pushing inside of me and there it is. "Oh yeah, baby." He pushes harder and it slips in further - and shouldn't it feel good? It feels like nothing. A piece of raw meat jabbing inside of me. But I have to play my part. I raise my knees into the air and wrap my arms around his body. He's panting, lying on top of me, panting, and his breath smells like onions and peppers, rancid, and I turn my head away. I look over his thrusting body, his skinny butt flexing between my thighs and I see the camera and it snaps a picture. Was my face right? Did I look happy? I open my mouth and tighten my face into a lustful oh. "Oh, yeah. Oh yeah, baby. You like that, don't you? Tell me you like that." And I tell him I like it. Yes, I like it. I like it just like that. Please don't stop. And I even moan and it sounds real. I almost start to feel good, almost start to believe it. It's sliding in and out of me faster and I lift my hips, trying to pull it in further. Maybe if it would go in deeper, just a bit deeper, maybe it would feel better. "Oh, baby. Yeah, fuck me just like that." I start pumping my hips below him, trying to pull him in further, but he's as deep as he's going to go, and it's not enough. I grab his clenching butt cheeks to pull him against me. He pushes in to his fullest extent and starts jabbing in short stabs. "Yeah, you like that don't you baby?" He spreads his legs, bringing his knees up to my butt, pushing my legs wider, trying to make sure the camera can see everything, see him inside of me. He's moving faster, plunging in and out quickly, and he's moving too fast. He stops. He's breathing harshly, his breath warm and sticky against my neck. "Whoo. Let's, um, change position. All right, baby?" Of course it's all right. He pulls out of me and sits up. The lights blare down on my exposed body, stinging my skin. I roll to my knees, offering my side to the camera. "Yeah, perfect, baby. You're a natural." I almost laugh. A natural? A natural what? Then, he's behind me, pushing my legs wider and pushing down on my butt and pushing inside of me again. It slides into me easily and I feel his hips pressing against my butt and then he pulls out and pushes in again. I look over my shoulder and see him looking down at his cock, looking at it as it penetrates my body, moving in and out of me, his hands clutching my ass, and he's mesmerized by that penetration. His eyes are locked on it, watching as it slips out of me, watching my pussy clasping to him, and then watching as it slides back in, my pussy folding back around him. "Oh, God. You are the hottest." My arms are shaking, tired from the shoot, tired from this, and I bend down to my elbows, leaving my ass pointed in the air towards him and I hear him moan. He grabs my waist and pulls me against him and I squeal and he mistakes it for a sound of pleasure. I turn my head to the camera. I must play the part. I twist my face into that look, that look that men want to see, and I find myself moaning and I don't know where it's coming from. Not from me. I'm not here. "Oh yeah, baby. Oh God, yes." He's moving faster. In the quiet room there is only the sound of slapping flesh, breathing, moans, and the occasional click of the camera. The world is so silent. There is only this. "I'm gonna come, baby." He's moving even faster, driving it in and out of me, sliding inside of me easily, and I push back against him, wanting to feel some of that pleasure, wanting at least a taste. "Here it comes. Get ready, baby." He shoves into me once more, again, harder, jabbing, and then pulls it out. I twist around quickly, my knees digging into the rug, and I grab it. I grab it and start jerking it, pumping my hand up and down. His semen spurts from his cock in a warm jet that lands on my stomach. He's moaning and jerking his hips. I look down at his squirting cock, smiling, actually enjoying this part, his member in my hand, rubbing my thumb underneath it, milking that semen from him, feeling it jerk and writhe, watching it shoot onto my stomach. I move closer to him and hold his cock between our bodies and he's squirming, his body's shivering against my body, and I'm looking into his face, turned up to the ceiling, his eyes closed, and at that moment, I almost love him. I could love him. "Oh God, baby." He drops his head and opens his eyes to look at me. He's moving his cock in my hand slowly as the last of his come dribbles onto my fingers. He slides his hands up and down my arms. "Oh baby. You are gonna go far in this business." 2 "Yeah, I saw your photo spread in last month's issue." I smile at him and take a drink of champagne. The glass is real crystal I think. "Yeah, that was amazing. I wasn't aware that you did that kind of work." I didn't. At least I hadn't intended to. But, it had ended up that way. I could pretend I didn't know those pictures would be published, that I didn't think that magazine printed those types of pictures. But, I knew that they would be published, not in the magazine I thought I was posing for of course, but the publisher owns many magazines and one that does print those types of pictures. I could pretend I didn't know. But, I did. I played the part. They are just pictures after all. "Hey Herb, how you doing?" "Oh, just talking to the lovely Rachel here. Rachel have you met Mr. Lynch?" No, I haven't, but I know him. I know who he is. I expected to bump into him at this party. Did I want to bump into him? "Hello, Rachel." His hand is wet and limp as he takes my hand. His lips are dry as he touches them to the back of my hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I must say I was surprised by your spread." He's still holding my hand, his fingers lightly touching my fingers. "It was really quite good. You definitely have a feel for it. A lot of girls you can tell are just going through the motions, but you...you have that something special." I smile back at him. He smiles at me and I know that smile has won over many women. But doesn't he realize he doesn't need to win me over. I'm here. He already has me. "You have that fire...that look that only the greats have, that look that makes any man want to fall at your feet and kiss them." "They are lovely feet aren't they? I mean I'm not a foot fetishist, but if I was I'd worship her feet." "Definitely. Her toes are perfect, slender, supple. And the foot small and feminine." They are both staring at my feet clad in the high heels with just the two straps wrapped around the foot and over the heel. I wiggle my toes at them. "Oh yes. Perfect. If she weren't already such a beauty she could make a living on just her feet." "Doing those stomping videos. She could wear heels like those and step on insects..." "Or male genitalia." "Of course." "She'd be a star in that field." I had never thought of that before. I picture myself stepping on bugs, fruit, testicles in high heels and I smile. They don't notice since they are still staring at my feet. I could do that work. "But she's much too beautiful to do that." "Much too beautiful." "More than beautiful. She's sexy. She's everyman's dream." "The girl next door." "The girl everyman dream's was next door." "Exactly." "The girl everyman wants to fuck." They look at me now, perhaps realizing that I am there after all, not just a picture in a magazine to be studied and discussed. Perhaps not. "You could go somewhere in this business, Rachel." "Definitely. You definitely could." "If you have a free moment we could discuss it." Of course I have a free moment. All of my moments are free. He holds his arm out like the gallant gentleman and I grasp it like the graceful lady. "We can discuss it somewhere more private." I can go... "My limo is right outside." ...with the flow. "We can have some privacy there." Heavily painted eyes underneath teased and sprayed hair watch with me with envy. I drop my eyes to the ground. I'm not the one to blame. I just go with the flow. "I have some champagne in the limo as well if you would like some." Actually I could use something harder. How about a few shots of vodka? "Here's my limo." "Mr. Lynch, off already?" "Yeah, James. But just drive around a bit. We might be coming back." "As you like, sir." The chauffeur opens the door. "Ma'am?" I slip into the limousine and slide over as Mr. Lynch comes in after me. The door closes. "Ah. I love being in my own car. Always feels like home." Home? I imagine that's nice. I imagine home feels comfortable, a place people can go and be themselves, be accepted. I imagine it anyway. "Here you go. A glass of champagne for you. And one for me. This is good stuff now. A lot better than that dime store crap you were drinking back there." It tastes the same to me, but I smile and nod. "You like some music? I've got...well, let's see...I've got...no, this sucks...no...oh, how about this. You like soul music?" Soul? Sure I do. But it doesn't sound like soul music. It sounds like cheap porn music. "There that's nice." The limo's moving. Through the windows I see the large, beautiful homes give way quickly to low-rent apartments and liquor stores. "Now." His hand settles on my bare knee, my leg crossed over the other leg and sticking out of the long slit in my dress. "I think you know what we're here to discuss." No, I don't. Tell me. Just tell me and I'll agree. "I think you have a bright career ahead of you in adult movies. Now I know you've never done those before. Well, until recently." He chuckles to himself. His hand is moving up and down my leg, pushing the dress to the side as it moves higher up my thigh. "Once I saw that I figured you were ready to make your move. Ready for the big time." His hand stops and grips my thigh firmly. "Hey, nobody's gotten to you yet, have they? You haven't signed with anybody yet?" No. He's the first to talk to me about it. He'll be the last. "Good. Because I don't want this to turn into a bidding war. We don't need that." He loosens his grip on my thigh. "I mean you know who I am. You know the products I make. With me you go first class. You get the best treatment. You're basically your own boss. You do only what you want and nothing else. We can do whatever you want to do." I want to do what you want me to. I can go with the flow. "I've got lots of ideas. Lots of ideas." His fingers slide along my inner thigh. I uncross my legs and spread them wide. His hand works up higher on my thigh. "My mind is always turning. Always thinking. Always thinking about what they want. What does the customer want? What hasn't been done before? What are they waiting for? What can I give them that will just blow their pants off?" He lifts his hand from my leg. He pulls off his coat and loosens his tie. "And when I saw that spread I thought that's what they want. That's what will blow them away. Rachel Wood." He pulls his bowtie off and drops it on the seat. "Rachel Wood." I just want him to shut up. I want him to stop talking. I don't want him to say my name. It doesn't sound right when he says it. Rachel Would. "Yeah, that would be huge, I'm talking about big, and then I saw that spread and I knew it. I knew you'd work for me." I reach down and open his zipper. He unbuttons his pants and leans back in the seat. Just shut my mind down. "And then I saw you at that party and ideas were just exploding in my head." I'm not here. "Hey, be careful with that. Yeah, you got that touch girl." Small and flaccid. "Yeah...Anyway, ideas were just exploding in my head and I saw your name and my name together in a big fucking movie. The biggest." Bending over. Shutting him out. I don't want to hear him. I'm barely able to get the nub of his penis between my lips to suck on it. "Oh yeah girl. Yeah." His hands on the back of my head. My tongue licking the head. "And the biggest fucking movie. We'll blow 'em all away. We'll....oh God. Yeah, just like that, girl." I can just let it all slip away. "Yeah. Ummm. Ohhh. Hey now. Goddamn." It feels hard between my lips but it's still so small, so skinny, and I move faster, tightening my lips around it, licking it with my tongue, trying to pull it out, make it bigger. "Hey girl. You keep doing that and you're gonna end up with a mouthful." I pull my head away and run my fingers up and down it. I look at it, the pitiful little thing, and I almost feel bad for this man, so much to compensate for, and he tries so hard. "I hope that's not all we're gonna do now girl. I like to get the complete idea of what I'm buying before I sign an actress. Why don't you take that dress off?" There is no limo. "Yeah. You're not wearing any underwear. Guess that would have shown with that dress. Now climb on up here and show me what you got." There is no cheesy porno "soul" music. "Just...yeah. Here let me get my pants off first...Yeah...Now, just...Yeah, right there. Watch your head on the...Yeah. Now...Oh..." There is nothing. "Now you put it in. You just...yeah, like that...just show me what you got, girl." Nothing to be ashamed of. "There you go. Oh God that feels good. Damn I can tell you haven't been around much. Oh..." His hands on my tits. My legs spread wide around him. His little penis inside of me. I lift up a bit, not so far that it slips out, and then drop back down. I twist my hips, trying to pull it into me. "Oh, girl...Mmmmm...Yeah." He mumbles and groans and from his face it looks like he's in heaven, like he's never felt anything so good before, pure bliss, completely lost in what I'm doing to him. And I love him then. I cup his face in my hands and he looks at me, his eyes glazed, and I keep pumping my hips, watching him enjoy it, watching his face, listening to his moans, happy that he enjoys it, that he can take such joy in this. His hands slide down from my breasts over my stomach to grab my waist as I pump my hips. His fingers dig into my sides as his body is consumed by the pleasure. His face scrunches up and he's breathing heavily. I smash my butt down onto him and start twisting my hips, rubbing his dick inside of me. I can go... I start grunting with each thrust, trying to imagine his dick deep inside of me, pushing the breath from my lungs as I plunge it into me. ...with the flow. "Oh God, girl. Yes." His teeth are clenched, his face drawn up tight, his entire body tight, his hands gripping my waist, and I start moving faster, jerking my hips faster, making the seat squeak. "I'm about to come. Right...Oh, God...Right...Now." I slide back, his dick slipping out of me. It's already starting to spurt and I grab it with my hand and jerk it up and down while I pump my hips on his thighs. "Oh, yes...Oh, God, yes..." I feel his semen landing on my stomach and in my pubic hair. I wonder how much he let go inside of me. Not that it matters. I've taken care of that. I can always go with the flow. "Oh, girl. You are signed. Consider that your first job. We'll stop by my place and I'll pay you and we can sign the contract." 3 "Hi, Rachel. I'm Steven Bennett, the director for this picture. I realize this is your first hardcore film and Mr. Lynch gave me specific directions for you. I think you'll find this is a bit different than the soft porn stuff you've done before." He laughs. I laugh. I guess that was a joke. "Anyway, hon, if there's anything I can do for you, anything to make you more comfortable just let me know." I'm fine. Just tell me what to do. "Okay. Hey, Ron, come over here. Ron, this is Rachel. Rachel, Ron." "Hi, Rachel, it'll be good working with you today." "We're all very happy to have you here today Rachel. Now, Ron, Mr. Lynch wants us to take it easy on Ms. Wood today. He said just straight up sex. No anal. No rough stuff. Your scene is supposed to be a nice love scene anyway." "Fine, Steve. Whatever you say." "All right. Now, I was thinking that Rachel, you could start off doing oral on Ron on the bed. Then, you both move into 69. Then, intercourse after that. I need three positions and you two can choose." "What do you think, Rachel? Any preferences?" Whatever. "How about since you'll be on top for the 69, you just move down and we start with you fucking me on top." "That'd be good, Ron. Very natural." "Then, we change to doggy." "Perfect." "Then, we'll finish with you on the edge of the bed and when I finish you drop down and let me come on your tits." "That's great, Ron. A nice love scene. Rachel? That all right with you?" I can go with the flow. "Great. Then, if you two are ready? Places everyone. Let's do it." Standing to the side, waiting, letting the director get everyone set, waiting for my entrance. "Um, hello, Ms. Wood?...Hi, I don't know if you remember me, but I worked on one of your films before." I remember very little about my previous films. Go With The Flow Ch. 01 "It was Heart of Desire 3. I was the boom man for most of the film including your, well, your love scenes." Tell him, yes, I remember you. That guy holding the mike above the bed, while what's his name was faking an orgasm on top of me. Of course I remember you. "Yeah, well, it's a pleasure to be working with you again. I'm a big fan of yours. I loved Terminal Passion." I do remember that movie. That was my last part. That was the one. I remember the actor. He was a big star. He was in a movie way below his star power, but wanted to shake things up, probably on his agent's advice, and the movie was a hit, at least for one of my movies, which usually go straight to video. This one was actually on the big screen for several weeks and made good money for a not-rated film since the director refused to cut out the offensive scenes. "That was your best movie ever and not just because of the big love scene, which was about as real as it gets. I mean I've heard the rumors that you were actually, you know, doing it with him, but I've told people that you're just a good actress and it looks real. But besides that you were great." I remember well. I remember that actor, a very handsome man, any woman would have jumped at the chance to be under his thrusting body, even if it was fake. I remember being underneath him, his eyes peering at me, our bodies completely naked, the camera rolling, both of us in the throes of a wild, simulated lust, and I could feel it. I could feel his cock, hard, erect, and it was rubbing against me, and it felt good, and I could tell it felt good to him. We weren't having to act. It was real. And he was moving his hips. We were moaning, our eyes locked on each other. And then it slipped inside of me. I don't know whose fault it was. If it was anybody's fault. But there it was. The head had penetrated and I was wet and it had gone in easily. He kept moving and it went in further and then he stopped. He looked into my eyes and he was searching for an answer. Should he keep going? Should he pull out? What should he do? And I didn't think anyone else around us knew. And he kept searching my eyes, but I gave him nothing. I watched him, wanting to see what he would do, wanting him to do what he wanted, and I could feel him inside, barely inside, and I waited. And he moved. He moved a bit and it slid in further and he kept watching me, looking for a refusal, looking for acceptance, but I gave him nothing. And he moved out a bit and then back in further and his eyes were watching me, and his face was that slack bliss of pleasure, his mouth open, while he watched me, waiting for me to do something, to move with him, to urge him on, or to push him off of me, but still I laid there, letting him do as he pleased, and he was confused. I could see the thoughts across his face, his mind churning, and I could only watch. And then he stopped, he laid on top of me, staring at me, feeling me around him, and his face, for an instant, changed into a sneer, a quick wisp of anger as he made his choice and hated me for it. He pulled it out. He sat up. The director called cut and we took a break before trying again. I laid on the bed as he walked off. He was laughing now, being pleasant, saying he needed to take a break, it was a lot of work, a lot different from what he was use to, he'd be in his trailer, and be back in a bit. I imagine he jerked off in his trailer, or probably found some assistant to gratify his desire. "So, you can imagine I was surprised when I heard you'd be doing this movie. I mean I never thought you'd be doing this." I fade back to this voice talking to me now. "By the way I'm Scott, if you don't remember my name, from...um...Hearts of Desire." "Scott! Quit bothering Ms. Wood and get that boom mike over here. We're ready to start." "Okay, Mr. Bennett. I'll see you out there Ms. Wood." He turns to leave and stops. He turns back, his eyebrows furled, about to ask me a question. He shakes his head and turns back around. "All right, everyone, let's get this on the first shot. We only got this one day so let's get it right. On my mark. Action!" I stand to the side, watching the actor in the scene, trying to act. It looks as if the young woman is supposed to be a mistress he is breaking up with, but I can't tell. The words are muffled, the acting poor, and I don't care about the plot. I watch the director, waiting for my signal to enter. I take a last look in the mirror hanging on the fake scenery wall beside me. I stop. I stare. That's me. I force a smile and it looks fake. I close my eyes. I force the smile. I open my eyes. Still fake. The smile fades and that looks real. "Rachel! Enter now!" I turn from the mirror and walk into the scene. The actor says something to me. I reply. We act. The lines mean nothing to me. They're like an encrypted code and I can make no sense of them. I have them memorized and they spill out, trying to place some emphasis or emotion where it seems appropriate, but unsure if I'm correct. I keep seeing myself in that mirror and imagine I'm still there, still in that mirror, waiting for me to return from this scene. I'm waiting in that mirror, watching myself fumble through this scene, and I start to feel lighter, cooler, and I wonder if I missed a line, but I'm still speaking. The actor is still speaking. Cut has not been called. So, I keep listening. I keep waiting. My body is reacting, moving on its own, my arms rising for emphasis with a line, turning my head with what I think is disgust. Why would I be disgusted? I don't know, but it feels right. And I can see myself from that mirror and I can feel it all around me, flowing through me, and I let go. We're on the bed and I don't know how or when, but I'm on top of him and we're kissing and his hands are on me and his hands are hot, scalding my skin, but it feels like nothing, no different than his wet mouth, his tongue. Then, I'm moving down his body because it seems like the thing to do and I'm just going with it and I have his pants opened, pulled down low, and his cock is huge and I move over it, bending down, holding it, feeling so smooth, alive, and I wrap my lips around it. It grows in my mouth and I can't put it all into my mouth. I slide my lips down it, licking it, sucking on it, but I can't take it all in. It hits the back of my throat and I can't. But I see myself, staring out of the mirror, and I push it further, and it slides in and I can do it. I pull my body over him to plunge it into my throat, to see if I can, knowing I can, and my hands are gripping the base of it. My lips touch my fingers and I slide my hands down, my lips still touching my fingers until my hand is flat against his groin, mashing his pubic hair into my palms, and it's into my throat. I move my mouth up, feeling the pressure in my throat relax, and I slide my hands up behind my mouth, slipping along the shaft, slippery with my saliva. He moans and he grabs the back of my head and I remember that he's there and I see myself again from that mirror, crouched over this man's legs, his cock in my mouth, his hands gripping the back of my head, and then I see the crew, the mike hovering above me, a camera filming from the front, a cameraman beside me focused tightly in on my face, my mouth. "Yeah, baby. I love you so much. I'll never do that again. I swear baby." Are those lines in the script? Am I supposed to say anything back? How can I with a mouth full of cock? Now he's moving his dick in and out of my mouth, my head held tightly in his hands, and he's fucking my mouth, and he pushes it in deep, into my throat, and I moan. I moan like yes, yes, fuck my mouth, baby, it feels so good. But it doesn't feel like anything. It's just motions, with no effect, nothing. But my body reacts anyway like a wind-up toy - insert penis and watch me move. "Sixty-nine now." He releases my head and I slide my mouth up his cock, sucking the tip with a lick, and I look up at him and smile. "Turn around here baby. I can give as well as I receive." I pull the tight dress over my head and drop it on the ground. I'm completely naked and I notice my nipples are hard. I bend down and kiss him. I don't know why. I wanted to kiss him. And he kisses me back, his hands stroking my back, his tongue in my mouth, and my hand is sliding up and down his cock. I break the kiss, kiss his chest, his stomach, down, and turn my body around, lift a leg over his head, and wrap my lips around his cock as I settle my body down on him. His hands grab my butt and he pushes my hips down and then his tongue is sliding up my pussy and my lips are sliding along his cock and I see the camera in front of me and a cameraman beside me and he's focusing on my pussy now as the tongue licks up and down, pushing my lips to the side, and then delves inside of me. I moan, the noise vibrating around the cock, because it seems right, it flows well. Then, I start bobbing my head quickly, sliding my lips up and down that cock, the entire length of it, pushing it into my throat, and his tongue stops. He groans and I feel his body tighten. I slide my hands down his thighs, feeling the muscles flexing. His feet are pointed to the ceiling and he's holding on. Then, he sucks my clit into his mouth and starts rubbing it with his tongue, flicking it. And I moan again, pushing my body back against him, urging him on, but still sucking on his cock, still moving quickly, my hands encircling his thighs, digging into the muscles, and his hands are gripping my butt, and his tongue is moving faster. I lift my head and tell him how good it feels, oh baby, just like that, yeah, I want your cock inside me now and I pull his clothes off of him and then I'm straddling his waist and pushing it inside of me and I'm stretched wide and it almost hurts and I hold on to that, yes please just to feel something, but it finally slides in, and I push myself down onto it, to mash it in deep, to feel it pushing inside, and it's there and I know it's there, but it's nothing, and I moan loudly, please yes fuck me hard, and his hands are on my hips and he's pushing up and into me, but it's not enough and I grab my tits in my hands and I push myself up his length and slide back down, but it's nothing, and I move faster, wanting to feel, please let me feel it, and he's moaning, his head pushed back into the pillow, his body straining, and I'm squealing, oh God yes, it's so good having you inside of me baby, and his hands are digging into my sides, and it hurts, yes that feels good yes, and then he's sitting up, pulling it out of me, and I fall to my hands and knees, and he's inside of me again, and he's moving quickly, skin smacking against skin, the camera focused tight on my face, and I close my eyes, yes, and my mouth opens, yes, I love you, yes, and my hands grip the covers, yes, and his hands are holding my hips, yes, holding me against him, yes, and it's so deep, baby yes, and then it's gone, no, and he's pulling me to the side of the bed, and I fall to my back, and there it is, yes, and I look into his face, yes, and he's looking down, watching it, enthralled by it, yes, and I massage my tits in my hands, yes, it feels so good, fuck me, yes, and the camera is over me, beside me, yes, focused on my tits, my face, my pussy, fucking me, yes, and his hands are gripping my thighs, yes, pushing in so deep, yes, and he yells I'm coming, yes, and open my mouth, scream, yes, fuck me, yes, I'm coming, yes, and it's pulled out, and I drop to my knees, and it's squirting, spurting, shooting onto my tits, and I hold them out in my hands, letting it fall onto my tits, and I coo, and I moan, yes, baby, on my tits, the way you like it baby, and he's moaning, his hand jerking his dick, and still, still there's nothing. 4 Rubbing a towel over my naked body. Stretching my arm behind me in an attempt to wipe the semen from my back. I just need to take a shower. Eyes watching me, crew members remembering the scene I just shot, wanting to do the same, shoot their come on my back. "Hey, Rachel." Scott, the light and sound tech. "That was great. I think each movie you've done gets better and better." His eyes wander from my face to my chest to my crotch to the floor to my face, and stops, staring at my face. I look back. What does he want? "Something wrong?" Nothing except I feel gross, hot, sticky. I need a shower. I feel the weight of a dozen pair of eyes on me and I just want to get away. "Here." He grabs the towel from me. "Turn around." He wipes the semen from my back. The towel feels good rubbing against my skin. "Ich. It's like getting a high protein mud bath, huh?" He laughs. I laugh. "Well, maybe not exactly." I smile. The smile fades. What does he want? He throws the towel on the floor. I do feel a bit better. I need a shower though. "You're welcome." He's looking at his hands, holding them out in front of him, and looking around for something to wipe them on. He can use the dressing room. "Okay." I open the door to my dressing room. Well, not necessarily just mine, but nobody else is using it right now. I'm the only female in this film. He steps to the sink and runs water over his hands. I turn on the shower and get in, immediately relieved as the scalding hot water hits my stomach. I close my eyes and let the water hit my face, feeling like it's peeling the skin off, and it feels so good. I turn around letting it soak my hair, the water trailing down my back, over my butt, and down my legs. It feels so good. This should be way more sinful than sex. "Um, thanks, Ms. Wood." Rachel. You can call me Rachel. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to wash the come out. "Um, thanks, Rachel. I appreciate it." I stand in the shower, the door open, my eyes closed, head back, letting him watch me, letting him think he's stealing a moment. "I should get back. Help break down the set." I turn my head to look at him and feel the water hitting my back. My back feels so sticky, disgusting. I grab the bar of soap. It'd be so much easier if someone would wash my back for me. "Um..." He looks to the door. Wanting to escape? Then, he turns back to me. "Okay." He walks to the shower. I hand him the bar of soap and turn my back to him. I turn my head, look over my shoulder, and see him staring at my back, biting lightly on his lower lip. He lifts the bar of soap and touches it to my back. He starts sliding it along my skin, high up near my shoulders. I turn my head back around and close my eyes. The soap moves slowly across my back and I can feel my skin washing clean like an eraser across a chalkboard. The soap trails down my spine, over to my sides, slowly moving down to my lower back and to the top of my butt and I can feel it all being washed off, slithering down my legs and into the drain, washed away, clean. "Um...There you go, Ms., uh, Rachel." I turn around and take the bar of soap from him. He looks at me, his face innocent, so shy, questioning, searching. What is he looking for? Does he think I have it? I smile at him and his lips spread in a grin. I turn the front of my body into the spray. "I should...um...get back, I guess." He turns, looking around the room. He grabs a towel hanging by the sink and dries his hands. I lift my leg up and start washing my thigh, running my hands down slowly. He glances over at me and then glances away. "Um, I'll see you later." The door closes softly behind him. 5 "And the winner is..." An expectant pause. Then, a laugh. "Of course. She's won three awards tonight all ready and the winner of the Best Actress for this year's Adult Film Awards is...Rachel Wood." Applause. 6 Lying on top of him, my legs drawn up, and his cock is moving in and out of me at a slow pace, and then he stops, waiting. I press my breasts against his chest, staring into his face, while he looks past me, over me, at the shape hovering above me. And I see the shadow on the floor beside me. I turn my head to see the shadow, watch it as it shrinks, bending down. I...hovering over me...can...body heat, sweat....go...butt cheeks spread wide...with...pressing against...the...inside of me...flow. Rocking back and forth, my whole body tight, and the two cocks struggle against each other, each trying to push into me, and there's no space, and they push, they moan, and I push my body back, yes, I can feel it. A pair of hands digging into my arms. I don't know whose. Just a tangle of limbs and cocks and they're pushing deeper and I scream and it makes them push faster and they're going deeper and yes I can feel it, the pain biting into my bowels, hot inside of me, burning, and I grit my teeth trying to hold onto it. A mass of bodies pumping, grunting, sweating, straining, my whole body tense, moaning, and yes, I want this, yes, I do, I love them both, faster, harder, teeth clenched, and yes there it is, keep pushing, but...and yes, keep, but...dying, cooling down, and I smash my body back against them, forcing them into me, my body stretching, and no it's going away and they push faster, grunting louder, four hands clawing my skin, and it's gone, and I thrash my body between them in frustration, and they can't hold on. Two cocks are pulled from my body and now I'm empty. 7 Sitting in the dressing room, waiting, reading, rereading my favorite book, digging into the pages to find that misery between the lines. Knocking on the door. "It's me, Scott." Just come in. Like everybody around here hasn't seen me naked and penetrated and covered in come. What's left to hide. "Hey." His head peeks in through the partially opened door. "Just to let you know. You're on in five minutes." I lay the book down on the vanity and stand up to get dressed. I need help tying the knots on the corset. Scott walks into the room behind me and laces up the back for me. I turn my head to watch him in the mirror, his tongue protruding out of the corner of his mouth, his fingers moving clumsily. I smile. "There you go. I think I got it." I slip on the pair of underwear, watching him standing uncomfortably, looking around him, his hands tapping on his thighs. He looks down at the vanity and his eyes settle on the book. "Hey. Is this...Yeah." He reaches down and picks up the book from the vanity. A smile pushes itself across me face. This is a joke I love to play on these people. "Of Human Bondage." I start to laugh to myself. I know what type of book he's going to think it is, what I thought it was when I first picked it up, but I was wrong. "I've read this. Well shit, several times." I turn to look at him. He's read that? "Yeah. Well, of course I didn't know what it was when I started reading it. I thought, you know, it'd be some porno bondage book, maybe some old French trash, but I got into it." He opens the book and starts flipping through the pages. "Where is it? There was a line I liked a lot. It went, um...Let's see. It went...Something about happiness." His fingers paging through the book, his eyes searching. "Oh yeah, it's in the back. It's in the end. A weird ending I thought, but...Yeah here it is." He turns towards me, holding the book in front of him and he reads from the book like he's reading to an audience. "'Always his course had been swayed by what he thought he should do and never by what he wanted with his whole soul to do...It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories.'" He looks up at me, a big smile on his face that would be goofy if it wasn't so boyish. "I like that. It makes sense, you know?" He looks down at the book again, the smile seeping from his face. "I remember reading that and thinking that makes sense. It's pretty simple when you think about it." The corner of his mouth turns up, thinking, accepting. Go With The Flow Ch. 01 I think about my favorite parts from that book. The ending I've always ignored. It always seemed trite, easy, too fictional, but the rest of the book was real. 'Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem.' 'The rain fell alike upon the just and upon the unjust, and for nothing was there a why and a wherefore.' And of course, 'Man seek but one thing in life - their pleasure.' But those are all just lines, quotes, that by themselves try to be prophetic and grand. It's the whole that I've enjoyed, the whole concept tied into that book, and then to carry that idea, that reality, into this reality, worlds colliding and nobody the wiser. Until now. "I didn't know you were a reader." I'm not. Who has time, right? "I try to read when I get a chance, but a lot of it goes over my head." He scratches his head to emphasize his dullness. I smile anyway. "But it's something to do. And seems better than sitting around watching t.v. or doing nothing. Makes you feel like you accomplished something when you finish a book." He looks at me bashfully. I pull a pair of stockings up my legs, sitting on the chair, watching him, noticing that he barely even looks at me. "Well, I'll let you finish getting dressed." He turns away and starts to the door. "Um," he starts and turns back to me as he's about to walk out. "Have a good, uh, scene today. Okay?" He closes the door softly behind him. 8 "Thanks for having dinner with me Rachel." Scott stares at me, his eyes probing my face. "I couldn't believe you said yes. I mean...well, you're Rachel Wood and I'm just a tech..." He takes a sip from his drink, a margarita, and licks some of the salt from the glass. "It's been great working with you the past couple of years. I mean, you're incredible. You're really something else. And you've always been really nice to me. Which is different in the business." I look at my fingers, grasping the stem of the wineglass. "You're, well, uh...I'm sorry. I don't mean to go on like that. I just talk when I'm nervous." He laughs uneasily and then pulls at the neck of his shirt. He takes another drink. He clears his throat and sets his hands on the table, straightening his back. I smile at him. It would almost be cute, if it wasn't so pitiful. The salads arrive, his drenched in Ranch dressing and mine plain. "Listen, Rachel." He chews through his mouthful of salad. "I've been wanting to ask you something." He swallows. "I hope you don't take it the wrong way." He's looking down at the table. "I was just wondering why you'd want to do these movies. I mean...I know I don't know you that well, but...I don't know...You're just not like the other girls. You're nice. You're..." He glances up at me sheepishly and then looks back down at the table. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business." He stabs another leaf of lettuce and shoves it into his mouth. Why. It's a hideous word. Why? The answers are endless and none make more sense than another. I could say anything to why and still not really know why. Why do anything? Why do these movies? Why eat this salad? Why go on a date with this man? Why wake up in the morning? Why. So many whys and few answers. So the answers to why do these movies. There are so many answers. How about my mother and father died when I was two? How about I was raised in a house with an uncle who treated me like an object for his perverse amusement? How about I'm a nymphomaniac? How about because I think that's what I'm good at? How about that's all I know? How about because I can go with the flow? He drops his fork into the bowl as he takes his last bite. "It's just...you seem too good to be in the business. I mean you're...and please don't take this as a come on or a line...but, you're smart, you're pretty, you're talented. I mean you could be doing legit movies. You know?" He lifts his napkin from his lap, pats his mouth, fidgeting in his seat. Why did you ask me out? Why can you look me in the eyes? Why are you just a tech? "Look, I'm sorry. You're probably wondering why I'm asking this stuff. I'm probably just trying to get in your pants, right? But, seeing you again, working with you, has made me think some." He's looking at me now, his eyes almost confident. "I've been thinking about why you would do what you do and that makes me think about why I do what I do. If that makes any sense. Why does anybody do what they do? And the truth is..." "Who had the prime rib?" "Oh, that's me." "And for you ma'am." The waitress sets down my chicken primavera. "Will there be anything else?" "Rachel? No. We're good. Thanks." He looks at his plate and then back up at me, searching for a response, looking for confirmation to continue. So I do it. He smiles. "The truth is...everybody is looking for something, right? Looking for something that makes them happy. No, something that does more than that. Something great. Something worth dying for. Something that makes it wonderful to live." His eyes are boring through my head, looking for a spark of recognition. "And few people find it. They stumble around, not realizing that that's what they're looking for and they never find it." He looks away from me again, lifts his fork, and lightly touches his food. "And I know I'm not gonna find it where I am. I just want to know." He looks up at me, his eyes solid, wide, childish. "Have you?" 9 "And the winner of this year's Adult Film Award for Best Actress is..." A chuckle. "Wow. I know I'd like to work with this lady. Last year's and this year's winner...Rachel Wood!" Applause. Have I? 10 Staring at the ceiling, wishing the room was dark, but the lights on the street pierce through the blinds and curtains and I don't want to get up to close them. The body beside me stirs and lies still again. I look over at it, agitated, wishing it were gone, wanting to push it onto the floor, but I don't. I let it lie there, keeping me awake, irritating me. At least it's something. I stare at the ceiling, listening to voices in the house, a few slurred conversations, the hardcore partiers who refuse to sleep until dawn, pushing their bodies to keep moving, keep partying, trying to feel alive. They seem foolish. I wish I could sleep, without the use of drugs. I'd do anything for a good night's sleep, no nightmares, no terrors, just a sound sleep, waking up to see the sun shining brightly, feeling refreshed, yawning, stretching, wanting to lie there longer, enjoying the cool sheets, but having to get moving, having to get things done. I reach over to the nightstand and grab the roach lying in the ashtray. The lighter flame stings my eyes and lips as I suck on the roach pinched between my fingers. The smoke is harsh, hot, stinging my throat and lungs, but it feels good. I smoke it down until it burns my fingers and then smoke a bit more. I drop the tiny bit of paper left onto the floor. Lying back on the pillow, letting the drug work into my mind, I force the thoughts out of my head, just drifting. I close my eyes and let the drug spread through my limbs, feeling my muscles relax. I imagine I'm lying on a raft in a calm ocean, the waves rocking my body softly, the breeze blowing across my naked body, getting pulled where the current wants to take me, deeper into the ocean, to land, wherever, as long as I can relax. And I feel my body soften into the bed, wanting to stay like this forever, never move again, just lie here, drifting. I hear the squeak of the door opening, trying to disturb me from my rest, but I block it out, wanting to be still, to be alone. The steps across the creaking wood floor slip through my ears, strange noises with no source. But, I can feel a person standing beside the bed and I don't care. I wash it from my mind, pretending it's not there, imagining the ocean still swaying beneath me, shutting the world out. I just want to be alone. My body shifts slightly as a weight pushes into the bed at my legs, only the waves tilting the raft on the side, only that. Hands grasping my thighs, pushing them apart. The weight moves between my legs, the bed squeaking once, and I just flow along, wishing I could drift to sleep, into my dream, just leave it behind. Fumbling between my legs, fingers digging into me, the weight shifts, and then pressure on my hips as it pushes into me. And I don't want to feel it there so I don't. I imagine the sky so blue above me, white clouds drifting by and I float up to the clouds, feeling the air blowing across my body, enveloping me entirely, and it's pushed into me forcefully and I almost fall back down, but I will myself up higher and the jabbing inside of me resides to a dull throb and I float higher and higher, the sun baking my skin, but it feels good, warm and inviting, and the grunting, my body being pushed into the mattress, the tired springs squealing are nothing, and then I'm there, entangled in the clouds, the cool moist air tingling my skin, cooling me from the hot sun, and goose bumps break out across my skin as it moves in and out of me faster, and I wrap my body into the clouds, letting them hold me, protect me from the harsh wind, and a deep stab into me and I collapse as the liquid spurts into me, jerking furiously, and I know there are no clouds, no sky, no raft. There is only this. 11 Standing, waiting, looking around the set. I don't see Scott. People are milling around, getting the scene ready. Somebody else came to tell me they were ready. Where is he? I fold my arms across my chest. Male eyes keep glancing towards me. I should be use to it, but today it bothers me. The short plaid skirt barely covers my ass and reveals a long line of naked thigh down to the white stockings. The white button down shirt is tight and my breasts, clad in a black bra, are pushing out of it. I adjust the fake glasses on my face and pat down my hair, feeling the two long ponytails. I shuffle my feet, the high heels clacking on the cement floor. Eyes watching me, hungry. I feel stupid. Where is Scott? "Hey, Rachel, we're just about ready. You want to go over your lines real quick?" Lines? When do I ever need that? I turn to look at the director. Where is Scott? "Scott? Oh, yeah, the, uh, tech guy. He took off. Called in this weekend and quit. He's gone. We got that guy over there." He points to an older man who's been spending more time looking at me than working. "I can't remember his name. What the hell, huh? They're all the same. Anyway, you look great. You'll be working with Carl today. He's over there if you want to go over your lines with him real quick." He leans in closer to me. "And I'd appreciate it if you would. He's not too bright. You know what I mean. Thanks, doll." He pats me on the butt and walks off. I look around me, at the dumb muscle-bound oaf who can't remember his lines, but will have his cock in me shortly, at the director running around, getting nods from everyone, but spurring no one to action, at the new tech, who looks at me and smiles, a big toothy grin that makes me cringe, and I don't see Scott. I'm stunned to realize that I'm even looking for him, that I probably always looked for him, expecting he'd be there, but had hardly ever talked to him, hardly ever noticed him. "Okay, everybody, let's shoot this. Action!" 12 "Hi Rachel. Thanks for coming by." Mr. Lynch leans in and kisses me on one cheek and then the other. He leads me further into his mansion, my high heels clicking on the polished wood floors, and into a living room with red carpet, wood paneled walls, and a piano. A fat man in an expensive suit is sitting on the large couch, sipping from a glass of wine. He turns to look at me, his piggish eyes set back in his head. "Ted, this is Rachel Wood. Rachel, this is Ted Orwell." He stands up from the couch with an obvious effort and offers his hand to me. The skin on his hand is pulled tight like the lining of a sausage and a large gold ring with a green emerald appears to be permanently stuck on his ring finger. I take his hand and he pumps it once. "Nice to meet you, Rachel." His eyes peer at me, sharp, seeming to pierce through the thin fabric of my dress. I resist the urge to shudder. "Have a seat." He sits back down on the couch and pats the cushion beside him. Not thinking, I sit beside him. I cross my legs away from him and cross my arms, wanting to shrink away from him. Mr. Lynch sits on a chair opposite the coffee table. "Ted here is a fan of yours. Isn't that right, Ted?" "Yeah." He turns to look at me. "I've seen all of your films. Shit. Who am I bullshitting? I've jerked off to all of your films." He starts laughing and Mr. Lynch joins in. I giggle, trying to join in on the joke and shut out the images of this morbidly obese man sitting naked in front of a television, playing with his dick while I screw some guy on the screen. A man in a tuxedo, the butler, appears and places a glass of wine on the table. I lift it and take a sip. It feels warm and bitter, thick and deep red like blood. "Anyway, Ted and I have been discussing some business recently and he told me about his fondness for your movies." "That's one of the reasons I approached you in the first place, Dale." Dale? I had never heard his first name before. Mr. Lynch looks at him with his eyebrows furled. "Well, for whatever the reason he came to me. We were discussing some important business and he said he wanted to meet you." Ted starts laughing. "I don't think I exactly said 'meet', Dale." I glance beside me at Ted and see that he's looking at me, his eyes moving up and down my body over the long slit in the dress that leaves my entire leg up to my butt exposed and to the large opening at my chest. I suddenly wish I had worn something more concealing but I don't own anything more concealing. "Whatever was said. We decided that we'd bring you in before we went any further with our business proposals." I feel his hand on my knee and he moves his bulk closer to me. I force myself to sit still, to relax, to go with the flow. "You see, Rachel." Mr. Lynch leans forward, his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped. "Ted and I have ideas, but we need each other to make those ideas into reality." "I think we know who needs who here, Dale," Ted mumbles. I'm sure Mr. Lynch could hear him, but he ignores it. "You may have never heard of him, but Ted is a big player in the world of multimedia entertainment." The hand slides over to my inner thigh, cold and clammy, and my body automatically tenses up. I can feel his breath, hot and pungent, across my neck and face. His body heat presses against me and I feel like I'm sweltering in my dress. "We think we can take our two businesses and merge them into...into...well, into a multimedia adult entertainment colossus." The other hand slides behind my neck and the beefy arm wraps around my shoulders. His breathing has become fast and harsh, whistling in and of his nose and mouth. "We'll use my stars..." "Mainly you." "Mainly you and present your talents in whole new ways." His hand pries between my crossed legs. I resist, not wanting to let that hand between my thighs. "We're talking about interactive DVDs, shot from first person perspectives, where the user gets to direct the action like they're interacting with the star." "Fucking her." "Yeah, like I said, and devices molded to the anatomy of the star that the user puts on to actually feel like they are with the star." The hand pushes between my legs and I feel the fingers probing my crotch. I try to relax. I try to let go. "And games. I mean all of these kids playing games are growing up and want to get laid. So we make games, action games, first person shooters, where the user works his way through a tight action plot, interacting with our movie stars in hardcore sex scenes along the way." The fingers are digging around my underwear, trying to pull them to the side. I try to go with the flow. "And internet sites where the user can pay to direct the action and not just direct it, but feel it, be a part of it, from the comfort of their own home." The fingers touch my pussy and I shiver. "And we want you to be the star in all of this. We want you to be our...adult multimedia queen." He sits back in his chair, a smile stretched across his face, content. The arm across my shoulders pulls me closer, pressing me against the soft fat, the fingers digging into me, searching, his breath rattling in his throat. "I just need a little persuading from you." Mr. Lynch looks away quickly and then back at me. "You understand. Right, Rachel? It's just business." The fingers are close, pushing down, almost into me. I feel closed in, too close, everything pushing down, around, onto me, and I want to scream. I want to run. I can. I can go. I... "No!" The fingers go still. Mr. Lynch looks at me, shocked. I grab the hand and pull it from between my legs. I push against the massive, flabby chest and stand up. "Um, Rachel," Mr. Lynch starts to mumble. "No!" I yell at him. "Hey, now, Dale, you better make this little whore understand," Ted says, looking up at me, his tiny eyes slit with anger. "Rachel," Mr. Lynch says and stands up. "We need to discuss this. This is a business matter and I don't want you to take this personally." He's walking towards me, his arms out like he's going to hug me. I step away from him. "No, Mr. Lynch ...Dale." "Rachel," he yells, his voice getting loud, echoing inside the paneled room. "Calm down. There will be a cut in this for you too, of course. This is your big chance. You'll be rich." "Fuck you," I say and turn to walk to the front door. "Dale, you stop her or our deal is through. I'll go to Edwards," Ted yells from his seat on the couch, his face bright red. I stomp out of the room, my heels clacking loudly on the floor, striding towards the door. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I brush it off, still walking away. "Damn it, Rachel," Mr. Lynch yells directly behind me. "You're fucking this all up. Get the fuck back here." He grabs me again. I turn and yank away from him. I run towards the door. I grab the knob, twist it, and throw the door open. Then, I'm pulled back and I stumble as a hand grabs the back of my dress. "Get back here!" I pull away from him and hear the dress tear. He falls to the ground, pulling a long rip down the back of the dress. I run to the door and grab the dress straps to stop it from falling off of me. "You're through, Rachel! Don't even bother coming to work again!" I stop on the porch, holding my dress up, breathing heavy, feeling the warm breeze blow through the large rip. "Good! Now get back in here so we can talk about it." I hear him getting to his feet and now walking towards me. I turn around to look at him, his face twisted with anger, not the charming, handsome face I'm use to. "Come on." He stands by the door, holding it open, waiting. I stare at him, the night quiet and still, and there is only this, this here and now. There is nothing else. I look inside the house, brightly lit, almost comforting, but not really. I know what waits that way. I look behind me into the night, dark, lonely - the unknown. I turn away from him and start walking away. "Rachel! Where the fuck are you going? Get back here!" I walk down the steps to the driveway. "Rachel! Goddammit! Get your ass back here!" I walk down the driveway, around the limousine that brought me here, out towards the street. "Where are you going? You little whore!" I shut him out as I start walking down the sidewalk, looking for a cab, and as I continue walking his shouts die out and I guess he gave up. I expect his limousine to drive up beside me, but it never does.