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From: "Aquillae" <aquillae@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} _THM_ B-Movie Baby  2.0 (PART 1/7)(by Aquillae) (MF, MF, FMMMM, FFM, fm, FM, FMMMF, Interracial, Orgy, Oral, Anal, Light Restraint, Uniforms, Oversized Body Parts, Sci-Fi)
Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 08:10:04 -0400
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B-MOVIE BABY 2.0
Written by
Aquillae
Copyright 2001

Adapted from the screenplay `B-Movie Baby'
Written by Aquillae 
Copyright 1994


This is my entry into the Theme Writing game that was started by
Hecate and meant to celebrate the fifth anniversary of ASSM.  My
theme was `making a film'.

As the original script that the story is adapted from was 96
pages long, I have decided to break the posting of this story
version up into seven separate posts.  Hopefully this will better
suit those who like to read smaller posts.  I will be posting
another scene every few days to allow you, the readers, time to
read the current post.  At the end of the posting I will make a
single post, which will contain the entire story.

With the posting of the entire story, I will be adding a list of
celebrities I would like to see playing the various parts in the
story.  If anyone feels inclined to also do this, please direct
the emails to either Aquillae@excite.com or ASSD.   

If anyone is interested in reading the original script, please
email your request to me at Aquillae@excite.com or post it to
ASSD.

The codes for the full story are as fallows: (MF, MF, FMMMM, FFM,
fm, FM, FMMMF, Interracial, Orgy, Oral, Anal, Light Restraint,
Uniforms, Oversized Body Parts, Sci-Fi)

The only codes used in this first part of the story are: (MF,
oral)

Okay, nuff bullshit.  Here's the story!






B Movie Baby Version 2.0 (Part I)

Out into the darkness of the vast soundstage George Lipton pushed
the piece of scenery.  The harsh scraping sound that the large
wooden rectangle made was of little inconvenience to George; he
was too busy listening to his bootlegged copy of Britney Spires'
`Best of the Early Years' CD.  George wore a set of earphones as
he worked and sang.  Unfortunately for his fellow coworkers, no
one else wore earphones.  In no time at all he reached the mark
for the scenery that was indicated by the white tape on the dingy
floor.  Now needing just a nudge to get the large piece of wood
into its final spot, George turned to face the front cameras, and
in tempo with the song he was `singing', he swung his hip out and
knocked the heavy frame over on to its spot.  Satisfied with the
positioning, he gave a little wiggle of his lower body, then spun
neatly on his heel, and danced back toward the makeup tables.

As George gathered up four folding chairs the exit door was
opened.  A shaft of early morning light spread across the expanse
of the soundstage.  And in the light, elongated human shadows
moved.

"Everything ready, George?" a figure, darkened to a mere
silhouette by the strong backlighting, asked as it and three
other silhouettes walked toward Gorge.  There was no reply from
George expect for the occasional song lyric which he loudly
belted out.

The silhouetted figures walked toward the makeup table.  Pulling
the earphone form George's ear, Paul McGowan shouted into the
older man's ear.  "Everything ready, George?" 

"Nearly ready, sir," George replied with a nod as he held up the
chairs in his hands.  "Just putting out the finishing touches, as
it were."

Paul and his three companions took their seats in the chairs that
George had strategically placed several feet in front of the
large wooden rectangle.  Seated to Paul's right was Mr. Richard
Ricardo, a businessman, dressed in a pinstriped business suit,
who took very seriously the financial stability of his fellow
associate's investments.  Seated to Paul's left was Marcy
Simmons, his right and left hand girl, who had on several
occasions saved his fledgling production company from the
pinstriped sharks with her imaginative solutions to unexpected
and untimely problems.  Seated behind and in-between Paul and
Marcy sat Tony, a creature of limited verbal skills, unlimited
sex drive, and god-awful taste in jewelry.

George walked off the sound stage with a smile and an encouraging
thumbs-up to Mr. McGowan.  Paul cautiously returned the gesture
as Marcy handed out the copies of the script for the upcoming
scene.

Very abruptly the light from a spotlight burst into the darkness.
 Bathed in the sharp white light was Rob, standing on the far
left of the stage, dressed as a mid-thirties businessman.

Paul glanced over to Marcy, his expression demanding an
explanation to what his eyes were seeing.  Marcy mouthed a silent
reply to the question.  Unfortunately for Paul, he was never very
good at reading lips.  The smacking sound of Tony popping a
bubble from his bubblegum warned the two that their silent
conversation was being watched.  The two quickly turned their
attention back to the stage area.

Rob, who was now standing in front of the large wooden rectangle
and facing it, poked a brightly painted button on the left side
of the front face of the rectangle with the tip of his umbrella.
He waited.  As he waited, he began to hum a little tune.

Mr. Ricardo made a display of shifting in his seat and pulling
out his pocket watch.  Paul, unable to speed up the actors once
the scene had started, sat powerless and nervously watched his
investor's representative fidget in his seat during the opening
scene.

The sound of a bell echoed through the sound stage.

With the sounding of that simple bell, the large wooden box came
to life.  The front of the rectangle spilt open at the center. 
Quickly, as if the rectangle sensed the growing impatience of its
audience, the split increased as the two front halves were pulled
away from each other.  As the opening reached its widest, Rob
walked casually into the rectangle.  Turning to face the
audience, he once again used the tip of his umbrella to press a
button concealed on the inside of the rectangle.  The two halves
began to close again.

 From somewhere off in the darkness of stage right, a female
voice cried out, "Wait!  Hold the elevator!"

Mr. Ricardo stopped his fidgeting.  Tony eyes sparkled, a deviant
sexual delight racing through his simple thoughts, as he heard
the familiar sexy feminine voice of his favorite starlet.

Reacting quickly, Rob poked his briefcase between the closing
doors.  With a vicious jolt the doors hit against his case,
shook, and then slowly reopened.  Squeezing herself into the
rectangle between the doors was Susan, the reigning queen of
adult cinema, wearing a scintillatingly seductive little blue
business outfit that beautifully accentuated and displayed for
her lusting public her perfectly proportioned body.
  
The doors closed completely.  Then, after a brief pause, they
opened once more, and stayed open, revealing to the audience the
two perfectly proportioned actors.

"Thank you," Susan spoke in that breathless whisper of a voice
that her lusting fans had cherished from the first moment they
beheld her.

"No problem," Rob replied.  "What floor do you want?"

"Oh, fifty-third please."

In a casual manner, Rob displayed for her his skill with his
umbrella by using it to press the button for her floor number.

"That's a lovely tie."

"Thanks."  Rob unconsciously straightened his tie.  Then
realizing that he was selfishly focusing only on her compliment
of his dress, he quickly replied with a compliment of his own.
"That's a pretty outfit you've got on."  He cringed inside,
telling himself just how stupid and repetitive the compliment
sounded after her own compliment about his dress.

"Really?  You like it?"

"Yeah, I do," Rob replied with a bit too much eagerness in the
hope of making up for his unoriginal compliment.

Susan, taken back by the eagerness of the attractive stranger's
compliment, self-consciously brushed her hair with her hand.  "I
must look a fright after running for the elevator."

"No.  You, you look really beautiful."  Rob cringed.  The stutter
had been embarrassing.  But the way he said the word beautiful
made him sound like a schoolboy trying to deal with his first
crush.

Susan's cheeks flushed with color as she smiled sweetly back at
him for the compliment.  "Why, thank you."

As Susan pulled out her compact and comb and fixed her hair, Rob
turned his attention back to the elevator doors.  Putting her
comb away, Susan fished out the lipstick.  Glancing over at her
elevator companion, Susan smiled when their eyes meet.  Although
she knew she was acting like a silly, boy crazy, schoolgirl, she
applied the lipstick in a sexy, playfully seductive style.

Catching a glimpse of her teasing play, Rob was hooked into
watching her glide the lipstick across her tempting, kissable
lips.

Susan glanced at him, her clear blue eyes sparkling with girlish
naughtiness.  "Do you like this shade?"  She blew him a kiss. 
"Or do you think something a little darker?"

"The lighter shade is definitely more attractive," Rob replied,
struggling to hold his voice level.

Rob's eyes followed her movements as Susan put her lipstick and
compact back into her purse.  Eagerly, he watched, and waited to
see what the gorgeous beauty would pull out of her purse next and
how she would use it to tease him.

Susan, seeing where Rob's eyes were focused, decided to have a
bit more fun with him.

Removing her hand from her purse, Susan slowly used it to
unbutton her blue blazer.  As her hand moved seductively up the
front of her white blouse, Rob's lustful eyes eagerly followed in
hot pursuit.  Reaching a button between her ample bosom, Susan
toyed with the button in her fingertips.  Rob watched, hoping
beyond all rational hope, that the button would slip open and
reveal to him the precious payload that was lovingly held within
the lace and silk cups of her bra.

Into his adolescent fantasies, a finger waved.

Rob shook his head and noticed the trim finger with the French
manicured nail waving in front of his face.  He glanced up. 
Susan stood smiling and waving her finger at him in that playful
way a pet owner would when reprimanding a wayward puppy.  Rob
smiled back, shrugged his shoulders, and to his great
embarrassment, discovered that he was actually leaning forward
with his face only a few inches from her breasts.

Eager to find some new line of conversation that would help pull
his mind away from the vividly graphic visions of her standing
naked before him, Rob asked, "What do you do here?"

"Me?  Oh, I don't work here."

"No?"  Rob tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"No.  I'm a consultant for Microtec Industries.  I'm just here on
loan to help get their new system up and running."

"Oh."

"What do you do here?"

"I don't work here either.  I'm an ad rep here for a meeting that
starts in..." Rob glanced at his watch, "about ten minutes.

"Cutting it a little close aren't you?"

Rob smiled the confident smile of a man who was in his own
element, and the master of that element.  "I always push
deadlines to the last possible moment.  It adds a little
excitement to the job."

"I'll bet your boss doesn't like that."

"Pisses him off.  But I've never missed a deadline, yet."

At that moment the elevator bell rang, startling the two ofthem.

In an exaggerated display of gratuitous sex, Susan leaned forward
in front of Rob, bending slightly at the waist, and displaying
for him the delicious curve of her shapely ass. She pressed the
button to close the elevator doors.

"I thought you said you wanted the fifty-third floor?" Rob
replied, his eyes still transfixed on the snug-fitting fabric of
her miniskirt as it struggled to cover the erotic shape of her
raised ass.

"I did."  Susan stood, neglecting to pull her miniskirt back down
to a ladylike length.  She took a step closer to Rob.  "But I
don't have to be there until eleven o'clock."  Keeping her blue
eyes fixed on his, she reached out and pressed for the emergency
stop button.  "That gives me one whole hour to play."

Rob held his briefcase up between their bodies.  "But my meeting
starts in less than ten minutes."

Pushing the briefcase down and to the side, Susan stepped closer
until her body pressed against his.

"Who would you rather disappoint?" Susan asked, slowly walking
her fingers up the front of Rob's shirt.  "Your boss?  Or me?" 
Reaching his chin, she lightly pressed down with her fingertips,
causing him to open his mouth.  Hungrily, Susan kissed him, her
tongue darting quickly into his mouth.

Lost in the exhilarating wave of sensations that were rushing
through his body, Rob tossed the briefcase aside and gripping the
shapely curves of her buttocks, pulled her body tight against his
own as they continued to kiss.

Susan broke off the kiss.  Rob, now aroused and desperately
horny, tried to resume the kiss.  But Susan held back, placing a
trim, manicured finger on his lips.  With a lustfully wicked
sparkle in her blue eyes, Susan shushed him like a child, and
then slowly began her lustful decent to the floor of the
elevator, slithering provocatively against his body as she
descended.

With a pull and a tug the belt was undone.  With the ease of a
seasoned professional, she quickly had the button and zipper
undone.  And then, with the building desire of a woman burning
with lust, Susan tore down the pants and underwear that concealed
the one treasure she was after.

Released from its concealing clothing, Rob's manhood rocketed
upward in length.  Kneeling before the precious, perfect penis,
Susan marveled at its ideal form, with its slight upward curve
that would perfectly fit into and fill her deepest desires. 
Taking the phenomenal phalanx in her hands, she lovingly caressed
it, stroked it, and adored it.

With a lustful hunger, she licked the sensitive skin, coating it
with her saliva the way a gourmet chief would baste a piece of
mouthwatering meat.  

"Do you like this?" She asked, looking up into his eyes, the tip
of his cock just touching her lips.

"Yes," he replied weakly, his knees beginning to shake and
tremble.

As she licked her lips, the tip of her tongue brushed back and
forth across the head of his cock, sending wonderfully powerful
sensations rushing through his body.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes."

Susan leaned forward and brought the head of his cock just within
her mouth.  Rob's entire body shuddered from the warm, wet feel
of her mouth surrounding his sensitive flesh.  Speaking into the
head of his cock as if it were a microphone, Susan chided him,
saying, "You forgot to say please."

Rob cried out, "Oh, god, please!" and grabbing Susan's hair,
pulled her head to him, impaling his phenomenal phalanx deep
within her warm, moist mouth.

As Susan displayed her unnaturally gifted talent for deep throat,
Mr. Ricardo sifted in his seat and casually flipped through the
pages of the script.  Nervously, Paul watched, as the frontman
for his investors seemed more interested in the written dialogue
of the coming scenes then in Susan's amazing sexual techniques. 
From the second row, Tony leaned forward between Paul and Marcy.
He snapped the bubble he was blowing with a loud pop.

"How `bout you and me doin' a little rehearsing of our own,
tonight, babycakes?"

Marcy popped the bubble that he had started to blow.  

A low, mechanical, grinding sound started to rise from the sound
stage area where Rob and Susan were performing their sex act. 
Paul's heart froze in terror.  He knew the cause of the sound and
had dreaded the possibility of it happening during the scene. 
With the release of more money to finish the film riding on Mr.
Ricardo's opinion of the scene, Paul was visibly worried that he
would have to cut the scene short to save his equipment.

The grinding sound quickly rose in pitch.

Marcy turned to Paul.  He angrily ignored her, and her concerned
looks.

"Cut!" Marcy cried out, gaining the attention of even Mr.
Ricardo.  "Cut the scene, George!"

Instantly, the two actors froze in mid motion, Susan kneeling
perfectly still with Rob's cock completely buried within her
mouth.

The unthinkable having been spoken, Paul was forced to speak up,
if only to demonstrate to Mr. Ricardo his position of authority
within the production crew.  "Okay guys, get out there, clean
them up, and get them ready for the next scene."

 From out of the darkness, four young men dressed in black came
on stage and, disengaging Rob and Susan, carried the two actors
off stage.

"George!" Paul called out into the darkness.  "You can bring up
the lights.  We're done with the first scene."

 From somewhere in the distance, a voice replied, "Right away,
Mr. McGowan."

Quickly the lights in the sound stage became brighter.

Turning to the one man who held the fate of his cinematic vision
in his hands, Paul tried to hide the worry in his voice.  "Well,
Mr. Ricardo, what did you think?"

For a long while Mr. Ricardo stood silent, casually flipping
through the pages of the script.  "Interesting.  I liked the
playfulness in the scene, but...Tony, what did you think of it?"

"I don't know.  To me it seemed a bit...boring."

Marcy exploded.  "Boring?"

"Yeah.  I mean sex in an elevator.  Right.  Like how many times
have we seen that already?"

"I suppose next time you'd rather see them turning cartwheels
while their fucking?"

"Hey," Tony made his way to the front row, "now if you can
program them to do that, I'd buy a ticket to the show."

"And just how are we supposed to get Rob to his office meeting
late," Marcy defended the script, ignoring Tony's vulgar and
rather lewd come-ons, "and make it an interesting if we don't use
the elevator scene?" 

"Maybe he decides to take the day off?"

"Then he'll never meet Susan," Marcy cried in exacerbation.  "The
whole story revolves around the two of them meeting, and then Rob
trying to get her."
  
Paul watched nervously as Mr. Ricardo was now reading the opening
scene carefully.

"From what we just saw, it looks like he gets her in the first
few minutes."

"But then he tries to get her again," Marcy said, clearly showing
the frustration she was having in trying to reason with a man
like Tony.

"Paul," Mr. Ricardo spoke, and Paul's stomach tensed,
anticipating the worst.  "I don't seem to be able to find any
reference to the opening scene ending in an oral shot.  Do you
Tony?"

"No, Mr. Ricardo.  It's supposed to be a simple pop shot on
Susan's but after an anal scene."

"Why did you change the shot Paul?" Mr. Ricardo asked.

"It was a last minute decision," Paul replied with the truth.  It
actually had been a last second decision on his part to change
the scene to an oral one in the hopes of avoiding a more
disastrous outcome to the scene then the one they had just
witnessed.  "We had no choice."  He lied.

"No choice?"

"The male had some internal valve problems," Paul reluctantly
admitted.  "The only way we could fix them and get the shot was
by switching to an oral position and hoping that Susan's sucking
would pop the valve open."

Tony laughed.  "That must have been one stuck valve if a blowjob
form good ol' Susie couldn't pop it open."

"Even without the pop shot, I think the scene is worth keeping,"
Marcy declared, feeling the need to defend the story she had
pushed so hard for to be produced.

"Paul," Mr. Ricardo spoke softly, which Paul knew was always a
bad sign, "the reason my associates agreed to finance this
production is because we knew you were one of the best at what
you do.  I like the way you handled the scene."

"But?" Paul asked.

"But I have to agree with Tony.  As the scene stands now, its
okay.  But we're not paying you for okay.  I want fire!  I want
the screen packed with intensity.  I want something that even
Tony would be embarrassed to take his mother to see.  Do we
understand each other?"

"Yes, Mr. Ricardo," Paul quietly replied.

"Good," Mr. Ricardo handed the script back to Marcy.  "I'll
expect to see a finished version of the new scene by Friday
morning."

"Friday morning!" Marcy dropped the scripts.  "That's only one
day to rework the whole scene."

"If you don't think you're people can handle it Paul, I can give
the project to Tom?"

"There's no problem with Friday morning sir," Paul replied.

"Good," Mr. Ricardo slapped him on the shoulder.  Checking his
pocket watch, he nodded to himself and then called to Tony. 
"Come on, Tony.  Let's go see what Tom has for us."

"Right away, Mr. Ricardo!" Tony exclaimed, remembering his visit
to Tom's last production.  As a farewell gesture, Tony grabbed
Marcy's ass as he was leaving with Mr. Ricardo.  Marcy returned
the gesture by making a gesture of her own - her middle finger.

"Every time we try to do something, he's got to stick his two
cents in."  Marcy threw down the scripts.  "Oh, sex in an
elevator.  I think that's boring.  As if anyone would bother
fucking that little weasel in the first place."

"Marcy."

"One of these days I'm going to fix that little ass-kissing toad.
 Boring!  Did you hear what he called it?  Boring!"

"Your revenge is going to have to wait I'm afraid."

"What?"

"You're going to be working on the opening scene all night."

"And what are you going to be doing?" Marcy placed her hands on
her hips.

"Getting a well-deserved rest."

"What?" Marcy threw her hands up, "I'm getting suck with doing
the whole job myself!"

"Listen," Paul shouted back, "it's your fault the scene got
screwed up."

"Me?"

"Yes you.  You're the one who kept insisting we use that damned
unit."

"You agreed to use him."

"Only because you assured me that Alice had removed all the bugs
from his operating system."

Marcy folded her arms over her breasts in a defiant gesture.  Not
trying to conceal her injured pride, she asked, "So, it's all my
fault?"

"Yes."

"It's my fault I stuck you with a broken down unit?"

"Yes."

"It's my fault the scene has to be reworked and re-shot?"

"Yes."

"It's my fault you can't get laid?"

"Yes," Paul automatically answered, then grabbing his jacket from
the seat, he added, "just make sure you have the scene done by
Friday morning with a new Rob."  Walking away toward the exit, he
shouted back over his shoulder, "and junk that old one!"

Marcy waved goodbye to Paul's back with one finger.

(End of Part 1.)


Any comments, and or suggestions are welcome at 
Aquillae@excite.com

Or at in the newsgroup ASSD.





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