Claire held Justin’s head to her breasts, wallowing in disappointment. “Oh, shit”, she exclaimed, highly upset that her big chance was disappearing.
She stroked Justin’s greasy head as he nuzzled between her snug boobs.
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Justin?” she asked despairingly.
He looked up into Claire’s lucid green eyes. “Well, I have been working on a new script for a modern version of The Taming of the Shrew. It’s called The Really Slutty Slut and it’s set in the sordid and fascinating world of the pornographic film industry. The heroines are two up-and-coming porn star sisters, Bianca, a sweet hard-working big-titted peachy-arsed long-legged green-eyed redhead who’s willing to do anything to anyone in any way, and Katie, a tempestuous blonde prima donna who’s overly fussy about who puts what inside her; it’s all about how the two of them are wooed by various competing male porn actors. It’s rather explicit so it might not be one for Southbury but, in recognition of the fact that I see such potential in you, I want you to play the role of Katie.”
Claire clapped her hands girlishly. “Oh, Justin, thank you so much. I’m so excited,” she said kissing him on his thick lips in gratitude and allowing him to squeeze her breasts in return.
Justin continued. “And, even better, I’m willing to continue our private lessons at no charge. We can practise scenes from the new play repeatedly when my wife is out. I’ll even bring in some other actors with whom you can rehearse if I can find any willing to give it a go. Perhaps we could even film some of the scenes, just to give you some useful feedback and learning material.
Claire hugged Justin. “Oh, Justin, how ever can I think you? You’re so kind to me!”
“There’s no need. What I do, I do for my art. Why don’t we try one of the earlier scenes out right away. Now, as I recall, Bianca is trying to persuade a casting agent to give her the lead in Gobjob Frenzy 3 and spends er…” he paused to check his watch before continuing, “… a good thirty-five minutes using her mouth and breasts to land the role.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly to get into the character of licentious amoral whore. “OK. I’m ready. But before we start, I just want to let you know that I really am so grateful for all of your help.”
“That’s all right, my dear. And remember,” he said as he loosened his trousers to release his already erect penis, “in the unpredictable and capricious world of acting, you must never give up hope.”
Claire’s eyes shined at this uplifting thought. “I won’t,” she said as he pushed her head down into his lap, “I won’t!”
The Shop Assistant
Claire swayed precariously at the top of the step ladder as she stacked a handful of Agatha Christie books on the highest shelf in the store.
“It’s OK, Claire,” Mr. Sharma said from below her as held the ladder, “I’ve got it.”
Claire smiled down at him. “Thanks, Mr. Sharma.” He was so sweet. This was her first day in the RSPHNFFP charity shop and Mr. Sharma had looked after her really well.
Her only minor concern was that she was certain that, if he were to look, Mr. Sharma would be able to see the tops of her green hold-up stockings and her perfectly shaped milky smooth bottom as well as the bulge of her beautifully presented pussy through her miniscule matching thong, all under a petite white micro skirt.
Luckily, Claire thought, Mr. Sharma was an old man, well past the age when a young woman, even one as gloriously attractive and fat-breasted as herself, would hold any sort of interest for him.
She bent down to pick up the last of the books and paused in concern at the unusual growl emanating from Mr. Sharma.
“Oh, are you OK, Mr. Sharma?” she asked.
He swallowed and nodded. Claire considered whether he had been distracted by her considerable cleavage as she leant over him but dismissed the thought before putting the books onto the shelf.
“Right,” she said breezily. “That’s done. What’s next?” she said as she took the hand Mr. Sharma gallantly offered to help her down.
Claire had decided to volunteer for the Royal Society for the Prevention of Hurt and Nastiness to Fluffy and Furry Pets in their charity shop after her training as an actress had come to a premature end.
She had been training under the talented yet obese director of the Southbury Players, Justin Maltravers-Fosteringhall, comprehensively rehearsing the part of a fledgling porn star in Justin’s new play.
Justin had kindly played the male parts whilst practising allowing her throw herself into practising the long involved sex scenes in particular.
Unfortunately she had been licking clean Justin’s filthy erection after he had just vigorously arse-fucked her, when he’d had a heart attack. She had called an ambulance but the still-conscious Justin had exhorted her to leave before it arrived and Claire had reluctantly assented.
Between gasps of breath, Justin had explained that he didn’t want his wife to find out he’d gone into cardiac arrest while his dirty cock was in the hot sticky mouth of a beautiful young woman, even if all they were actually doing was rehearsing a scene. Claire had been a little worried but she’d had to admit that it wouldn’t have been easy to explain to Danny, her boyfriend, either.
She had tentatively texted Justin a few worried days later and he had confirmed that he was all right but that he’d had to have triple bypass operation and so their mutual dream of a blockbusting West End sex-industry themed theatre production would have to be put on ice indefinitely.
Cursing her luck, Claire had kicked her heels for a couple of weeks while she had thought about her next move. In rapid succession she had lost her careers as receptionist, saleswoman, teaching assistant and actress and she was feeling more than a little disheartened.
She wanted a job that was within her capabilities and allowed her to meet people but also one of which Danny would approve. He was always expressing his unfounded and overprotective concern that she was easily exploited and a touch naive which was of course complete nonsense but as the love of her life he had to be humoured.
When she had seen a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the shabby window of the RSPHNFFP shop, she had just known that this was her calling. The shop itself was very old-fashioned and dim but what worthier cause was there than the protection of cute fluffy animals?
Danny had also agreed that working in a charity shop where the average age of the other volunteers was in the sixties would not only be safe but also worthy and straightforward.
She had been perfunctorily interviewed by a sweet old lady, Elsie, and told to come in the next day where she would be running the shop with the help of an experienced colleague.
And that was how she had found herself up a ladder helping a tiny wrinkled old Indian man put excess crime thrillers onto the top shelf of the book section.