The Audition
"She's the producer. They're the actors. The role requires 'chemistry'—and she tests every candidate personally. Five men audition today. Only one gets the part. But she might keep them all anyway."
Welcome to my office.
I'm Veronica St. James, executive producer of Passionflix Studios. Fifty-three years old, three hundred and ten pounds, and the most powerful woman in adult entertainment.
Every actor in this industry wants to work with me. Every director wants my budget. Every studio wants my distribution network.
And today, five men want my lead role.
The part calls for "intense chemistry with a mature, full-figured female lead." That lead, of course, is me.
Chemistry can't be faked.
It has to be tested.
The waiting room holds five.
Each one is handsome in his own way. Young—twenties to early thirties. Fit. Experienced enough to have a reel, hungry enough to audition for anything.
My assistant brings them in one at a time.
"The audition," I tell each one, "is simple. You'll perform a scene with me. I'll grade you on technique, stamina, and enthusiasm. Highest score gets the role."
"What kind of scene, ma'am?"
I smile.
"The kind you can't rehearse."
Candidate One: Marcus, 28
He's nervous. They all are at first.
I'm sitting on the casting couch—an actual casting couch, yes, I'm aware of the irony—and he's standing in front of me, script in hand.
"Put that down." I gesture to the paper. "This isn't a dialogue test."
"Then what—"
"Take off your clothes."
Marcus strips quickly.
Eager to please. His body is good—defined, muscular, clearly maintained for camera work. His cock is average length, above-average thickness.
"Kneel," I tell him.
He kneels.
"Between my legs."
He looks up at me. I'm wearing a skirt—easy access. I spread my thighs.
"The character in this film worships his co-star," I explain. "He's devoted to her pleasure. Show me how you'd play that."
He understands.
Marcus is... adequate.
Enthusiastic but sloppy. Too much saliva, not enough precision. He goes for the clit too quickly, doesn't build anticipation. I come eventually—it's hard not to with a mouth on you—but it takes longer than it should.
"Five out of ten," I tell him when he pulls back, face glistening.
"Only five?"
"Your oral skills need work." I make a note. "You rushed. You didn't read my body language. You were performing instead of responding."
"I can do better—"
"Next candidate is waiting." I gesture to the door. "We'll be in touch."
Candidate Two: James, 25
James is different.
Confident without being arrogant. He kneels without being told, looks up at me with eyes that say I know what I'm doing.
"I watched Marcus leave," he says. "He looked disappointed."
"He should be." I spread my legs. "Show me why you're better."
James takes his time.
Kisses up my thighs first. Makes me wait, makes me want. When he finally reaches my cunt, he starts at the edges—teasing, exploring, learning what makes me gasp.
"There," I breathe when his tongue finds the right spot.
He locks in. Doesn't lose it.
I come in under five minutes.
"Seven out of ten," I tell him. "Much better. But your stamina hasn't been tested yet."
"I'm ready when you are."
I look down at him. He's hard. Very hard.
"Get on the couch."
James's stamina is impressive.
I ride him for fifteen minutes before he shows any sign of struggling. He holds my hips, matches my rhythm, doesn't try to take control. When I finally let him come, he groans like he's been waiting his whole life.
"Eight out of ten," I update. "Strong performance."
"What would get me a ten?"
"We'll see." I kiss his cheek. "Send in the next one."
Candidates Three and Four: David (31) and Kyle (27)
They audition together.
"The film has a scene," I explain, "where my character is with two men. I need to know you can share."
They can share.
One mouth between my legs while the other sucks my nipples. One cock inside me while the other is in my mouth. They rotate, coordinate, work together like they've done this before.
"Nine out of ten," I gasp, coming for the third time in an hour. "Excellent chemistry. Both of you."
"Do we both get the part?"
"We'll discuss." I catch my breath. "Send in the last candidate."
Candidate Five: Julian, 30
Julian is the most experienced.
He's done mainstream work, knows how to carry a scene. He also looks at me differently than the others—not like a test to pass, but like a woman he wants.
"I've seen your early films," he says. "Before you were a producer. You were the best performer in the industry."
"Flattery won't help your score."
"It's not flattery." He kneels. "It's motivation. I want to be good enough for you."
Julian is a ten.
Everything—his mouth, his hands, his cock—is exactly what I need. He reads my body like a script, anticipates what I want before I ask for it. I come four times before he's even inside me.
When he finally enters me, it's perfect.
"Fuck." I'm clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist. "Where did you learn—"
"From watching you." He thrusts deep. "Years of watching your films, studying your reactions. I know what you like."
"God—"
"Come for me, Veronica." His voice is commanding but reverent. "Show me what five years of watching taught me."
I come so hard I black out.
The Decision
All five candidates wait in my office.
They're dressed again, nervous again. Each one hoping for the role. Each one knowing they were tested more thoroughly than they expected.
"I've made my decision," I announce.
They lean forward.
"The lead role goes to Julian." He exhales with relief. "His performance was... memorable."
"And the rest of us?" David asks.
I smile.
"The film has multiple supporting roles. Intimate scenes with the lead that require chemistry." I look at each of them. "I'm offering you all contracts. Different roles, different rates—but work nonetheless."
"All of us?"
"All of you." I stand up. "But there's one more test."
"All of you. Together. With me."
The silence is deafening.
"This film has an ensemble scene in Act Three," I continue. "All male leads, one female lead. I need to know it works."
"Right now?"
"Is there a problem?"
They look at each other. Some kind of understanding passes between them.
"No, ma'am." Julian steps forward. "No problem at all."
The final audition
Five men.
One woman.
The next three hours are a masterclass in collaboration.
Julian takes the lead—fitting, since he has the lead role. He directs the others, positions them, creates a choreography that puts me at the center of everything. One cock in my mouth while another is in my cunt. Hands everywhere—stroking, squeezing, worshipping.
I lose track of who's doing what. It doesn't matter.
I come more times than I can count.
And when they've all finished—all five of them, inside me and on me and around me—I lie in the middle of them, exhausted, satisfied, surrounded.
"You're all hired," I manage.
"We gathered." Julian kisses my forehead. "When do we start filming?"
"Monday." I close my eyes. "But this? This can continue. If you want."
"Want what?"
"This." I gesture to the pile of bodies. "Off camera. Between shoots. Whenever I need... testing."
They don't hesitate.
"Yes, ma'am."
Epilogue: Wrap party
The film is a success.
Critical acclaim, record sales, industry awards. Everyone praises the chemistry between leads—how real it looks, how genuine the passion seems.
They don't know the half of it.
After the wrap party, my five leading men come to my hotel suite. We celebrate privately. Thoroughly.
"Same time next film?" Julian asks, lying beside me while the others recover.
"Same time." I pull him closer. "Every film from now on."
"That's a lot of auditions."
"I'm a demanding producer." I smile. "I only accept the best."
"And are we the best?"
I kiss him. Then each of the others in turn.
"You're getting there."