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Reply-To: jack@jacknormanlibrary.com
From: jack@jacknormanlibrary.com
Subject: {ASSM} New Story - The Audition
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Date: Wed, 24 Jun 2009 10:10:02 -0400
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 This is a first-time posting, so I'm not sure that I've got things right.
 A stage struck young woman is persuaded by a 'friend' to attend a screen 
test...
 Story codes m/f, nc
 Jack Norman
 www.jacknormanlibrary.com

<1st attachment, "The Audition.txt" begin>

 This is either just a give-away short story or, maybe, the start of a
novel...

   A stage-struck young woman is persuaded by a friend to attend an
audition and screen-test.



   "An audition?  Does your mother know you're here?"

   Marina Jackson glowered and tossed her head.  She was nearly nineteen
years old and the security man at the reception desk was obviously being
sarcastic.  He was terse and uncooperative and spoke with a thick foreign
accent she immediately recognised: another member of the Russian Diaspora
in London!  "Yes," Marina said in a deliberately haughty English accent. 
"My mother does know I'm here.  She's a model too, as it happens."

   Despite her outward confidence, it was an unnerving experience.  She
wondered again about the information from Alexandra Agletdinova at the
Russian Orthodox Convent School in Oxford.  It wasn't as if Alexandra was a
close friend...  more of an acquaintance, really, and almost a year younger
than Marina.  They had never really mixed at the boarding school, so it was
nice of Alexandra to give Marina a tip-off about the exclusive auditions at
Hot-Girlz.  Marina clutched the signed business card that Alexandra had
given to her.  As it turned out, the address of the Hot-Girlz Model Agency
was a relatively new, tall building in Soho, of the kind that seem to
spring up overnight amidst the otherwise seedy, neon-lit streets.

   The security guard stared candidly at her bared belly above her
low-slung jeans, and smirked as he spoke.  "So, your mother is a model and
she wants the same for her daughter?" he said with an unpleasant laugh and
his bull neck seemed to ripple over his collar as he moved round the desk
to stand beside Marina.  "Go home and thank her, but say we refused her
offer."

   Marina pouted prettily.  She didn't even know where her mother was in
the world at that moment...  living high on the vine somewhere, no doubt.
In truth, there was little that Marina had to thank her mother for, except,
perhaps, for her stunning good looks.  Female beauty ran in the family
pedigree: tales of the ravishing beauty of Marina's great-grandmother were
legendary in St Petersburg, and her grandmother, still alive in Moscow, was
a strikingly handsome woman despite her age.  There were flaws, too,
though: it was accepted that, besides their good looks, the women of the
line were generally...  well, flighty and capricious.  Marina had certainly
inherited that wild gene too.  Over the past year she had become known for
absconding for extended periods of time from the expensive but very strict
Russian Orthodox boarding school.  Marina, it seemed, could not help but
seek to impress and excite men, flirting outrageously, casting pouting
smiles across a room, 'accidentally' brushing of her body against them as
she passed.  However, it was apparent that her subtle feminine wiles
weren't working on this suspicious Russian oaf of a doorman, and he seemed
about to turn her away.
"Wait a minute..." Marina said, placing the business card on the
reception desk.  "A friend, Alexandra Agletdinova, sent me to this agency.

She told me to give you the card as an introduction?"

   The security guard glanced down at the card which bore Alexandra's bold
signature.  He didn't pick it up but his attitude seemed to change
abruptly. He immediately reached for the telephone and said as he punched
the keypad, "Alexandra...  she's a very clever girl.  Her father is a good
friend of mine."

   Relieved that the man was at last taking her seriously, Marina smiled
triumphantly.  To divert herself from the man's candidly appraising gaze,
she looked around the anonymous reception area: it could have been the
entrance to any office block in any large city, and there was no indication
of the activities there.

   "There's a cunt down here asking for an audition," the thug-like man
said into the phone, speaking in Russian and glancing at Marina's body as
he spoke, as if stripping her with his eyes.  Marina, startled, indignantly
straightened and thrust out her full breasts, which were already
well-revealed by the sexy Versace crop-top she'd chosen to wear for the
occasion.  "A prick-teaser...  Young, slim, big tits, with a mouth made for
sucking cocks."

   The man obviously didn't realise that Marina spoke fluent Russian. 
Marina was shocked at his crude words, and she knew that she ought to turn
and leave, immediately, without further ado.  Instead though, she smiled
sweetly and didn't let on that she had understood a single word.  After a
few seconds, the man replaced the handset.  "Follow me," he said, abruptly
turning and striding down the corridor behind his desk.  Marina hurried to
catch up, her high spiked heels clipping along on the new marble floor. 
The man stopped and pressed a button on the wall console, and then he
tightly grasped Marina's upper arm.  She glanced down in surprise at his
fingers, which held her arm in a vice-like grip, but the elevator doors
slid smoothly aside with a hiss and he guided her into the lift.  He
produced a plastic card from his pocket and held it against a sensor as he
pressed a button for the 5th floor.  He then released her arm and stepped
smartly out into the corridor as the lift-doors closed.  Left alone, Marina
studied her appearance in the mirrors that lined the elevator.  She rubbed
her arm, still feeling the imprint of the man's strong grip.  For some
strange reason, though, Marina was somewhat aroused.  The oafish security
man's crude assessment of her had been unnervingly correct.  Marina had
never before thought of herself as a 'prick-teaser', but it accurately
described her.  She'd had many boyfriends, but she was anything but
promiscuous, in the true sense.  She flaunted her body before men but
rarely bestowed its charms upon them.  The lift shuddered to a halt. 
Straightening her shoulders and sucking in her belly, Marina waited, and
when the doors slid aside she stifled a gasp...

   The audition was obviously already in full swing.  Rather than the
expected corridor or office, the lift doors opened onto a large area that
obviously represented the floor-space of the entire fifth storey of the
building.  It was lit by many bright floodlights, and untidily littered
with equipment and sets.  There were men with movie cameras on wheeled
dollies, people milling about, and a cacophony of low noise punctuated with
shouted commands.  Nobody cast a second glance towards Marina as she
stepped uncertainly from the lift.  She looked about her in astonishment, a
half-smile of excitement flickering on her lips.  It was obviously a film
shoot.  Many of the men wore suave dinner jackets that were out of place in
the heat generated by the lights, and a few of the women wore sumptuous
evening gowns.  Other women, perhaps a dozen of them, wore ankle-length
white hooded diaphonous robes that were slit to the armpit on either side
and they walked in a group to the rear of the room, disappearing behind
some scenery.

   A male voice yelled a command, and the actors hurried to their marks. 
The men and women in evening gowns took their places, sitting at elegant
dining tables placed on either side of a raised catwalk.  Another man, clad
in a white dinner jacket and presumably one of the leads, stood at a small
lectern at the entrance to the small stage.  The director called for action
and a sudden hush fell on the entire space as the camera's turned and the
actors at the tables picked up wine glasses.

   "And go!" the director yelled.

   The man in the white dinner jacket rapped the lectern loudly, and spoke
in deep, cultured tones: "May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,
as we are about to commence proceedings.  To remind you of our terms, all
bids are taken in US dollars, and sales are for a 12 month exclusive
contract unless otherwise stated, during which subsequent revenues are at
your own discretion.  We do, however, insist on a deposit of fifty per cent
of the sales value, refundable on the satisfactory return of the property
at the end of the contract.  Is that clear?"

   The people at the tables gave a general murmur of consent, as one of the
white-robed woman stepped onto the catwalk.

   "Our first lot is the lovely Larna, 21 years old, from Kiev."

   The woman, framed in a harsh spotlight, lifted her hood away from her
head, taking care not to spoil her hair.  She paused, smiled prettily into
the cameras, and then slowly sashayed along the entire length of the
walkway, her hips swaying extravagantly, causing the gauze robe to part and
to reveal glimpses of her bare breasts and flanks as she moved.  At the end
of the catwalk, she turned theatrically, the white gauze wafting about her,
and returned to stand beside the lectern.

   Marina stood watching, wide-eyed and fascinated as the man rapped the
lectern again with his gavel to halt the low buzz of conversation that had
erupted.

   "There is no reserve on this very special lot, ladies and gentleman, and
she comes with an absolute guarantee of satisfaction.  As you will see,
Larna has an exquisite body..."

   As the auctioneer spoke, the woman unfastened the robe at the neck and
shrugged it from her shoulders.  The filmy material fell to her waist,
revealing sweetly shaped breasts, and then it slithered over her hips to
pool at her ankles, leaving her naked.  She stood well, with her right hip
turned and toe pointed, prominent sex lips well revealed by the shaven
vulva.

   "Do I hear an opening bid for Larna, ladies and gentlemen?" the
auctioneer enquired, as the nude woman set off down the catwalk once more,
turning this way and that, well-exhibiting her body for the cameras. 
"Fifteen thousand, thank you, sir.  And sixteen over here...  Eighteen
thousand dollars on the telephone.  Nineteen...  thank you, madam.  Twenty
on the internet site, and twenty-two...  My, my, Larna is in demand.  "

   The woman walked slowly down the catwalk, twirling and posing at
intervals, her practised smile remaining fixed, as if painted upon her
features.

   "Twenty-two on the phones, thank you.  Twenty-three from the client on
the net..."

   Marina was suddenly aware of a hand on her arm.  She turned and saw a
grey-haired man whose neck was heavily-swathed in expensive gold chain, and
his mouth was so near to her ear that she could feel his breath..  "What
the fuck are you doing, slut?" he whispered urgently in Russian.

   Marina was about to answer but thought better of it.  "I'm sorry?" she
said in hushed tones, in her best English crystal-glass accent.

   "British?"

   "Yes."

   "Going once," Marina heard the actor calling, "going twice...  Do I hear
more, ladies and gentlemen?  Surely, for this beautiful lot...  The bid
stands at twenty-eight thousand to the client on the internet."

   The man beside Marina raised his grey, bushy eyebrows in vague surprise,
and he glanced appraisingly at her body as he gripped her arm in much the
same proprietary manner as the security guard had done.  Then he said, "Why
are you still dressed?"

   Marina blinked.  "I came for the audition," she said lamely.

   The man hesitated.  "An audition, yes," he said.

   The gavel rapped sharply on the lectern, and the auctioneer called
emphatically, "Sold for twenty-eight thousand dollars.  Thank you, Larna."

   Marina turned to see the naked woman stoop to pick up her discarded robe
and walk from the stage, disappearing behind the film-set.

   "Lot number two is Maxine from the Ukraine.  Maxine is twenty-five but
this is her first contract with us, ladies and gentlemen."

   "Get your arse behind the set, ready for your turn," the man hissed,
squeezing Marina's arm in emphasis, and waving to another younger man who
stood nearby bearing a clipboard to which a sheaf of papers was untidily
clipped.

   Marina looked at the set again, as Maxine removed the hood of her robe
and a mass of curly red tresses tumbled about her shoulders before she
began her slow promenade, walking with assured grace.

   "I already have an advance bid of twenty-thousand dollars for this
wonderful piece of merchandise, ladies and gentleman.  Do I hear
twenty-one? Thank you, sir.  Twenty-two...  Twenty-three from the advance
bid..."

   The man had moved quietly over to where Marina stood.  He glanced at her
appraisingly, one hand posed on his hip.

   "She arrived late," the older man explained, releasing Marina's arm.

   "Twenty-four...  ah, thank you, Madam.  Maxine is a delight, isn't she?"


   "Were you exhibited?" The effete newcomer asked Marina in Russian,
glancing at his clipboard and flipping over the sheets of paper.

   Maxine, the young woman on the catwalk of the film-set, had removed her
robe and was posed stark naked under the harsh lights, revealing a
beautiful creamy-white skin with pert honey-tipped breasts.

   The auctioneer was well into his swing now: "Twenty-five...  And I bid
twenty-six on behalf of my advance bidder.  Ah, and twenty-seven thousand
on the internet, thank you.  The advance bidder is done.  Do I hear
twenty-eight?"

   "I came for an audition," Marina said again.

   "What's your name?" the young man demanded in Russian.

   "She's English," the older man said in explanation.  Then, he said to
Marina in English, "Your name?

   "My name is Marina Jackson."

   "Marina.  A good Russian name, uh?"

   The younger man, puzzled, consulted his clipboard again.

   The older man smiled and stroked Marina's blonde hair as he gestured
towards the set, where Maxine was parading her nude charms.  "Well, Marina,
you will need to dress for the audition.  Go with Nikolai..."

   "She's not on my list," Nikolai said in an urgent whisper, glancing over
his shoulder at the stage.

   "Do I care about your fucking list?" the older man said, reverting to
Russian and giving Marina a little push towards the man.

   The young man fluttered his lashes and glowered.  With a toss of his
head he ostentatiously clamped his hand about Marina's arm.  It was
obviously a mannerism with these people, but Marina found it vaguely
degrading to be handled thus.  Yet she meekly allowed him to lead her
through the tangle of cables and round a jumble of equipment to the rear of
the set.  Here, several white robed women sat waiting silently on a long
wooden bench.

   "Going for thirty thousand dollars..." the auctioneer was calling. 
"Thirty for the lovely Maxine...  Are you all done?  Sold!  Thank you."

   "Quickly, a robe, somebody..." Nikolai said in Russian, clicking his
fingers.



   At that moment, Maxine stepped from the front stage, naked and carrying
her discarded robe.  Nikolai snatched the garment from the woman and thrust
it, bunched, into Marina's stomach.  Marina grasped it and shook it out. 
The man wrote something on his clipboard and stood, looking impatiently at
Marina.  She sighed.  It was apparent that there wasn't to be the privacy
of changing room here and, indeed, it seemed superfluous given the
abundance of exposed female flesh there.



   "Next, Lot 3 is the delicious Galina", the auctioneer was saying, and a
young blonde woman rose to her feet and made her way to the entrance to the
stage.



   "Hurry," the man said to Marina.

   Marina watched the blonde woman visibly straighten her shoulders and
step forward onto the set.

   "Galina is 21 years old, and this is her first contract," the auctioneer
was saying.  "Reluctant at first, she is now one of our prime properties
and eager to serve in any way you desire.  Let me hear an opening bid,
ladies and gentlemen."

   Nikolai slapped his clipboard against Marina's buttocks.  "Hurry," he
said in a hushed tones.  "You will go as Lot 6."

   She hesitated and then gave a resigned smile, saying, "What the hell..."
Then, with an unfamiliar rush of intense excitement, Marina dropped the
robe onto the bench and quickly pulled the Versace top over her head.  She
glanced around for somewhere to hang the expensive garment, but then just
threw it carelessly alongside the robe.  Her jeans followed and then,
glancing round apprehensively, she removed her bra and allowed her breasts
to fall free.

   The auctioneer's tones seemed to blur in the ether in the background as
Marina contemplated the magnitude of her actions.  She hadn't anticipated
things happening so quickly, or in such a public way.  Rather, she had
expected a private trial photo-shoot with still cameras and carefully
contrived cheesy poses.  Instead, she now stood dressed only in a black
thong before a young man who gazed dispassionately at her exposed body. 
She quickly scooped up the robe and pulled it over her head, allowing the
light material to fall softly over her body.  She realised though, that to
all intents and purposes, the robe left her virtually naked and she could
clearly see the halos of her nipples through the gauze.  Nikolai was
staring intently at the thong, which was also highly-visible through the
diaphanous robe.  Reluctantly, Marina removed her thong and tossed it on
the heap with the rest of her clothes.  Nikolai nodded, made another note
on his clipboard, and minced away.

   Marina sat on the bench along with the other women, decorously arranging
the loose white gauze fabric around her limbs as best she may.  The young
woman sitting alongside her said, in Russian, "It's hopeless to try cover
yourself, these damned gowns don't even hide our tits and, besides, you'll
soon be parading bare-arsed."

   Marina recognised a marked Lithuanian peasant accent, complete with the
earthy way of speaking, but she resisted the temptation to answer in
Russian.  "I'm English," she said, apologetically.

   Galina returned, naked and flushed, her white robe draped over her right
shoulder, and another women leapt to her feet and hurried to stand at the
entrance to the stage.

   "English?" the girl said, her eyes widening in obvious surprise.  She
crossed her legs and carelessly revealed a long lissom limb as her robe
fell aside.  "They are taking English women too?  I thought we'd all been
brought here from Eastern Europe."

   The auctioneer's voice wafted over the set again: "Lot Number Four is
Elena, from Moldova, ladies and gentlemen.  A dark haired, olive skinned
beauty, as you will soon see."

   "Lot Number Four?" Marina said with a small squeal.  "My God, I'm number
six..."

   "I'm next...  Number Five.  They've put you with the first-timers, like
me.  The others who remain have all been here before.  How did you come to
be here?"

   "I'm wondering the same thing now," Marina admitted with a wan smile.

   "What can we do?" the girl asked with a shrug.

   "We could just get dressed and leave," Marina suggested.

   "Leave?" the girl said, obviously astounded.  "Are you crazy?"

   "Well," a male voice suddenly said in clear English, "are you crazy?"

   Marina looked up and she saw a suave man looking down at her with the
coldest grey eyes she had ever seen.  She gulped.  The man was probably in
his early fifties, with silver hair swept back from his face.  He wore
linen trousers and a pristine white open necked shirt that was open at the
collar to reveal a gold chain the thickness of her small finger.

   "I'm sorry?" Marina said, blanching under his steady gaze.

   Nikolai rushed over, clutching the clipboard to his chest.  He spoke in
Russian, quickly, apologetic and fawning.  "Mr Gadalski, sir, you are
welcome here.  How can I help you?"

   Gadalski turned and demanded, "You know of this girl?"

   "Her name is Marina, sir.  She's English but Costa said to put her in
the line."

   Gadalski pursed his lips but he simply waved the minion away.  He turned
to Marina again, and asked in English, "Why are you here, Marina?"

   At that point, the Lithuanian girl rose quickly and scurried to the
entrance of the stage set.  In the general hubbub, Marina had almost
blanked out the voice of the actor who was calling the auction on stage. 
She glanced across as the girl stepped onto the set.

   "Lot Number Five, ladies and gentleman...  Niele..."

   Marina looked back to the man and said, "I came for an audition.  I'm
next, I think."

   He looked at her steadily for a while, for perhaps half a minute. 
Eventually, he smiled and said, "Stand up, let me see you." Marina
self-consciously rose to her feet.  He twirled his finger in the air and
she understood, turning awkwardly until she faced away from him.  To her
shock she felt him lift the rear of the robe and pull it aside, fully
revealing her bottom.  "Alexandra Agletdinova sent you, I'm told," she
heard him say.

   Marina gasped as she felt his hand on her buttocks, squeezing the firm
flesh.  "Yes, Alexandra, a friend at the school," she said with a stammer.
"She told me that you were holding auditions."

   "A friend, you say?  Alexandra is proving to be a very capable
talent-spotter." Gadalski took Marina's hand and turned her to face him
once more and, quite unexpectedly, he raised her knuckles to his lips and
placed a gentle, courtly kiss there.  "Welcome to my agency," he said with
a disarming smile.  "I must remember to send Alexandra her commission for
introducing you.  As you say, you are next, my dear.  Walk well, and
remember to smile."

   ***

   A couple of days later Gadalski received a busty young blond woman in
his office.  She wore an olive-green school blazer but the matching gymslip
tunic exposed an expanse of tanned lithe thigh and her full bosom strained
at her white blouse.

   "You did very well again, Alexandra Agletdinova," Gadalski said, handing
her a bulky white envelope.



   "These sluts are very stupid," Alexandra said with a sniff as she opened
the envelope and checked the wad of banknotes it contained.  "Marina was so
keen to be a model or an actress...  She gave you no trouble?"

   "No.  She didn't even realise it was a real live auction until it was
over.  She paraded naked up and down the catwalk, smiling winsomely for the
cameras.  Your friend brought an excellent price on the internet." Gadalski
paused and smiled as he watched Alexandra counting the banknotes.  "It's
all there, I assure you," he said.

   "It's best not to trust anyone," Alexandra said with a swish of her
pony-tail, continuing to count the money.  "Marina Jackson is well away
from here by now, I hope?"

   "Drugged, crated and flown off to Thailand, of all places...  a wealthy
patron who likes white slaves.  She won't get away from there, I assure
you. Will she be missed at the school?"



   Alexandra shrugged and put the banknotes in the inside breast pocket of
her school blazer.  "Marina was always disappearing for weeks on end... 
Besides, she's eighteen years old and was due to leave the school this
month.  I plan to send you two or three more girls from the same class, as
a matter of fact.  Do you have any more sluts to sell soon?"

   "As it happens, your father has arranged for a consignment of girls to
be sent from Moldova next week."

   "My new girls will probably be ready for an audition in about three
weeks time."

   Gadalski laughed.  "The time will be perfect.  I'll set up another
filmed auction session especially for them.  Your father must be very proud
of the way you're progressing in the family business, Alexandra
Agletdinova."
   

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