MARIA I
Maria Laney waved her hand as the cab that devoured her friends sped off with a screech. The red tail lights streaked, much thanks to the alcohol in her blood, and grew dimmer and dimmer. She had insisted to them firmly that this was her last stop when they all rallied to continue barhopping. She didn’t even remember what words or twists of the face she used, just that they tried poking her pride playfully with heckling daggers. A younger form of herself would have struck back swiftly, relighting the torch to lead the way and disprove all naysayers.
Pulling a compact mirror out, the tip of her tongue quickly brushed over her perfect teeth for imaginary things. She batted her eyes three times, and satisfied, her reflection disappeared, returning with a click to her small leather clutch. She double checked to make sure her cell phone was in there too. Yes, she wasn’t that drunk.
Her apartment wasn’t far off and her pace was quick. This night blessed her with a level silence of no crowds, no traffic that competed with her heels. A nice, welcome change of pace. A stray cat or two, but predictably they had nothing they wanted to share with her. Not for free anyway.
She turned the last corner and her focus fell quickly on an elderly woman, wrinkled elbows propped up on an ordinary folding table and sitting posture to match. They met eyes in an instant, but Maria’s broke away first, down to the table where some playing cards were strewn. A fortune teller? A flutter of excitement beat in her heart.
The old woman coughed three steady hacks, as if her throat had been unused for a lengthy period of time. Her hands, however, proved to be better talkers as cracked skin and nimble, skinny fingers quickly brought the cards into an order.
“Hello, my sweet child. Do you believe in fortunes?”
Maria licked her full lips, and a sudden surge of charm and confidence that she painstakingly crafted over the years met the words rising from her chest.
“If I didn’t believe in fortunes, I wouldn’t be an actress.”
It felt silly immediately, but she hid her remorse behind a sweet smile. There was no need to tell a stranger of minor, empty roles and all the struggles that came with them. A smile, half sweet and possibly half bitter, was returned.
“Fortunes,” the woman said, as a swift cut to the deck was made, “are more accurate on nights like these. Quiet nights, the ears howl with unquenchable thirst.” A quick shuffle and another cut. “Clear nights, the eyes wander and grow bolder with greed.” A final cut, then the cards fanned out in an arc. “But together, the whole body yearns and aches for all it has to offer.”
For some reason, Maria was more intrigued than ever and she found herself leaning slightly in as if a great, dark secret was about to be revealed. Her pupils dilated, blackness erasing the surrounding blue. The faded backs of the cards, marked with an optical illusion of sorts, all seemed to quiver before her. Yes, be afraid of Maria Laney, she thought. Without instruction, she picked a card and flipped it.
--
Maria Laney found herself waking up in her apartment, but not in her bed. Her back, upright, was to a corner of the living area, slender legs sprawled out wide. She was still in her minidress from the previous night and giving quite the show to her carpet. She rubbed her eyes of the coals and a fake eyelash died right there in her palm.
Before her train of thought could get back on its track, she heard her cell phone ringing somewhere. Where was her clutch? She brought herself to her feet, mindlessly stumbling in the direction of the sound. The sofa, the usual suspect that always had a large, unapologetic appetite for swallowing objects. She split the cushions with a digging hand and reclaimed what was hers from its belly.
“Hello?” Her throat was unsurprisingly parched.
“This is Virginia Shields from Mount Para Productions. Am I speaking to Ms. Maria Laney?”
“Yes, this is Maria.” She was fully awake now.
“I’m calling to touch base about an upcoming project and would love to go over some things. In person of course.”
“I would be more than happy to.” A break she thought. Work had been scarce for the last month.
“Great, I’ll send you details for later this evening via text. One last, quick thing. Are you familiar with ‘The Spider King’? The one by Charles Hunley.”
All of a sudden, Maria felt like her heart just dropped with a splash into her stomach. Pieces, fragments of the fortune teller rushed back with an overwhelming force. Wrinkled fingers. The flipped card. An intricate illustration, thick, broad outlines that revealed a blocky, two dimensional king of hearts. But it was all wrong. All wrong.
A cool sweat glazed over the back of her neck and forearms. She lost grip of her cell phone and it tumbled to the floor in front of her. It stopped under the coffee table.
“Ms. Laney? You there?” Shields’ voice. “Ms. Laney?”
Maria tried to pick up for her fallen device, but she felt a heavy weight on her shoulders, as if something perched, nested there. The pressure made her slump downward off the couch, her palms and knees meeting carpet. She was in a pushup position, face lined up with the cell phone. The back of her head scraped once against the underside of the table. She wanted to yell at the phone but her jaws were in the midst of a betrayal. A force had them clenched, her tongue a prisoner writhing about in darkness.
The cell phone had gone silent and Maria’s body gave out in collapse, her eyelids the last defenders. They quickly fell, lost to the black abyss.
--
VICTORIA I
“One last, quick thing,” Victoria Shields asked. “Are you familiar with ‘The Spider King’? The one by Charles Hunley.”
There was no immediate response. She quickly woke up her phone to check the connection, but the call wasn’t broken.
“Ms. Laney? You there?” Still nothing. “Ms. Laney?”
Victoria pushed up her glasses and found herself holding her breath. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds.
“Why yes, I admire Mr. Hunley’s work greatly.” A voice back online. Laney’s voice. Different though?
“That’s wonderful,” Victoria replied. “I’m sure Mr. Hunley will appreciate that. I’ll arrange a car to pick you up in three hours.”
“That’s wonderful. I understand.” The call ended.
Victoria tapped her Redtooth device off, leaned back in her chair fully and closed her eyes. Maria Laney, second daughter to a banker from a small, forgettable town. Mother and father typically wed after being high school sweethearts. Older sister died in a car accident when they were still teenagers. Thus, the rebellious spirit was born, although one could make a safe bet it was to be one way or another. Victoria imagined that Laney would’ve grown up to hate her older sister anyway.
She swiveled around and instinctively opened a desk drawer, a multitude of cheap, disposable pens rattling scared. Up one went, the cap a fresh victim for Victoria’s pearl teeth. Her eyes remained closed.
Maria Laney, sophomore standout in high school as her body finished catching up to her wildness. Tall, lithe build and pedestal legs landed her as a cheerleader easily. The servants of popularity came and worshipped the developing ego, offering more and more sacrifices as time went on. Junior year came the theater club. A sweet smile of shining white, the roar of applause and a spotlight that set the body on fire. Had the brain to really deliver the whole package, but senior year floated on by and all academic effort starved to its death. What a shame.
Victoria heard the Redtooth chirp in her ear. Mr. Hunley? Wait, maybe Mr. Irons? She looked at her phone but no, it was just that weakling she had seen the weekend before.
The night had started off promising, but when they got back to his place he was absolutely lost at sea. Any sense of desire had quickly faded when he failed to rip off her tight clothes and dominate her the way she needed. Where desire once lurked, contempt filled its place. He had almost fallen over while clumsily trying to remove his pants. He would’ve cracked his skull against a radiator. She could still remember his stupid grin as he had tried laughing it off. Calling for an ambulance was not her idea of maintaining arousal. She had left him swiftly to drown by himself.
She swiped and denied the call, and then removed the earpiece entirely. One deep breath, then two eyes closed.
Maria Laney, fresh high school dropout, much to the chagrin of her parents. Fights after fights, the type that flesh and blood can only have. Ran away from home with her miscreant of a boyfriend at the time. The plan had formed over many quiet, clear nights. He would find success with his music while she pursued her acting. His acting, it turned out, to not be shabby either. Heavy drug use were his memorized lines and cheating was his backstage tricks. Laney broke out on her own, luckily avoiding predatory agents that would’ve taken advantage of her situation. She found sparse work from time to time, but the writing on the financial wall read that she might have to face mom and dad soon.
There was a knock on the office door. Victoria opened her eyes and finally gave mercy to the pen. It joined four brothers in the garbage.
“Come in,” Victoria called out. She recognized the face immediately.
“Hello, my sweet child,” the elderly woman said. Two small, slow steps and the threshold was crossed.
Victoria stood up briskly, walked over to her guest and lead her hand in hand to a chair.
“It is always a pleasure to see you again,” Victoria said, leaning down and planting a small, polite kiss on the old woman’s forehead.
The wrinkled corners of the mouth craned upwards and there was a nod in response. Victoria moved over to her office door and resealed the room. A dial on the wall was adjusted as well, cutting the light by a half measure. Finally, she sat back down in her own seat and moved the frames of her glasses up once more.
“I just talked to a certain someone on the phone a few minutes ago,” Victoria continued. “I assume everything went well on your end?”
The woman produced a single playing card, held between two aged fingers, from seemingly nowhere. Perhaps a hidden pocket in one of the sleeves. Victoria could never tell. Her guest had always appeared more rags than human, and always chose the dramatic when the opportunity presented itself. At times, Victoria thought the old woman had more spunk than she did.
Victoria accepted the card and kept full eye contact. It was her turn to nod in response this time.
“Mr. Hunley and I both admire your work greatly.”
--
MARIA II
The luxury sedan came promptly as Ms. Shields said it would. And after a whirlwind of washing up, dressing and makeup activity, Maria Laney had somehow found herself in the car without a single, concise memory of how it all happened.
Maria stole a glance here and there at her riding companion. Shields was impeccably dressed, donned in sharp business attire anchored by a form fitting skirt. Cream colored pantyhose desperately held back fleshy thighs, and the cut of the blouse displayed a neckline that many a woman would murder to obtain.
“Ms. Laney.”
Shields broke the silence and passed over a medium sized, canvas tote bag. “When we arrive you will have time to change before meeting with Mr. Hunley. He’s.. rather eccentric with some particulars and prefers to choose his actors and actresses with a certain vision in mind. Please don't take offense. What you're wearing is fine, but orders are orders.”
Maria peered down at the bag she was given. She had her fair share of meetings with casting executives and directors, and found the most common trait amongst them to be eyes for specifics and details. Still though, there was always that uneasy feeling somewhere in her body that screamed at her about casting decisions that came packaged with seedy undertones. The industry was never short on hushed, ugly rumors of the gods of power and sleaze coming together and demanding their tribute on the ‘couch’ altar.
A gentle grip formed on Maria’s forearm. She looked up from the bag. Shields flashed a perfect, reassuring smile. Was Maria just imagining things or did her new companion detect something? It couldn’t be.
“You’ll find it’s a simple outfit, designed for comfort,” Shields continued. “When it comes to clothes and costuming, you’ll find no other studio that spins it better than ours. Although please, take care to keep it clean.”
Maria nodded, the muscles in her face instantly relaxing into an easy smile.
“It’s not well known, but Mr. Hunley actually comes from a long lineage of American tailors,” Shields shared freely. “In fact, the current project has been in progress for quite some time as well, and happens to be centered around fashion in more ways than one.”
Work. Maria sat up slightly in the car seat and resolved herself to absorb any and all information.
“Oh? Fashion is something that interests me greatly,” she replied.
“It seems most important to him to get this one right, more so than any of his other works,” Shields pressed on. “Supposedly it’s based on bits and pieces of an old, family story. You know, the ones passed down from generation to generation. It seems every other family has got one. Although I’m sure the years have come and gone to alter some truths and weave in their own untruths. It’s only inevitable.”
“It’s only inevitable,” Maria echoed.
“Regardless, everyone still loves a good fairy tale, and not even Mr. Hunley, power and position aside, could escape its magical clutches.” Shields released Maria’s arm.
“That’s wonderful,” Maria enthused.
Shields brought up two fingers. A playing card. No, it couldn't be.
Maria locked up, recognizing the mesmerizing design of the back instantly. Her insides turned to water, waves of dread and nausea growing bigger and bigger. The car wasn't overly speeding but Maria felt like her body was being propelled and out of control.
The card. The king of hearts on the other side, though transformed. Eight, wiry arms sprouted from the drawn monarch’s back, the four middle ones clutching a voluptuous maiden in front of its body. Nudity was modestly masked by silk strands.
“‘The Spider King’ tale,” Shields said in a cool voice, not seeming to have noticed Maria’s new disposition. “A long time ago, there was a small village cursed and haunted by a monster blacker than the night itself. It wove its traps in the woods surrounding the village, feeding on those foolhardy enough to wander carelessly.”
Maria was having trouble with simple breathing, her hands finding the sides of her face. The face. The king didn’t sport its usual, universal poker face. Multiple, beady, blood red eyes and fierce pincers came together to hold up a heavy crown adorned with jewels. The face.
“Years went by like this, but one night the most beautiful girl in the village, of merely six and ten years, had a dream under a rare, red moon. No one knows what she dreamed, but she set out into the woods alone.”
The sedan rocked to a sudden stop. Maria looked out and up the near window, her blue eyes tracking the length of the tallest, most recognizable structure in the city, the Parker Building. She had never been inside. She turned her head back to Shields’ direction but the gap between their seats was already closed.
“Welcome home, my sweet child.” Shields’ palms embraced Maria’s cheeks, where her own hands had been just moments ago. A delicate kiss was planted on Maria’s raised brow.
--
Maria Laney was escorted into the Parker Building and straight into an elevator that stood separate from the others. The towering construction had been erected and named by the Parkers, one of the oldest and most influential families that supposedly existed back to the founding of the city itself.
Boasting more than one hundred floors, the first thirty held various boutique shops and name brand chains for the elite to consume. The next thirty floors housed all sorts of firms, ranging from law, accounting, insurance and brokers. The remaining floors lived their lives in secret, not open to the general public, and certainly not to unemployed actresses that were seemingly going out of their minds.
But that’s where Maria found herself being lead, flanked by two younger, new women. Shields had remained behind in the car. The electricity of the elevator hummed to itself in quiet pleasure, and all Maria could do was hold the canvas tote she was given with both hands.
“It is always a pleasure to see you again,” cheerfully piped the one that stood on Maria’s right.
Maria turned her head both ways with a look of surprise, never having met either. Their features could be opposites to her own. They were shorter, at most by three inches, having straight, jet black hair that’s natural to most of Asian descent. Unnatural, however, the eye coloring. Maria looked into globes of amethyst for the one who had spoken, while the silent one claimed two dull, citrine irises. In fact, despite the difference in eyes, it just dawned on her that she was in the company of identical twins.
A broad smile assaulted Maria, the one on the right again. “Mr. Hunley will be most pleased. Yes, most pleased. I’m sure you can’t just wait to get started, Ms. Laney.”
The second difference. To her left stood the one who flinched not even the least, wearing an expressionless stare. More doll than living human.
Maria’s voice finally found a sliver of power again. “I’m afraid I don’t know what this is all about.” An understatement to be sure. “There must be some sort of mistake.”
“Oh ho, no mistake,” chimed the cheery one. “Didn’t Ms. Shields leave her mark? You didn’t feel it? The mark?”
Now that it was mentioned, Maria recalled feeling a sting upon her arrival to the Parker Building. The kiss, it had to be. Slowly, very slowly, a creeping warmth enveloped her from head to toe. All things uncertain like dread and fear, dissipated and were replaced with soft vibrations of comfort. She could feel it, it felt so alive. The glowing warmth.
“That’s wonderful,” squawked the joyful one, who plainly saw Maria’s shift. “We’ll get you changed and in your proper place before you know it.”
Maria, no longer finding her situation strange for some reason, smiled back. She even shot a playful grin at the colder twin.
“I understand. I would be more than happy to.”
--
VICTORIA II
Victoria Shields watched as the Parker Building swallowed Ms. Laney whole. She bit her lip once, then twice, reflecting on her miscalculations. The car ride was much shorter than anticipated and there hadn’t been enough time to finish the fairy tale. She waited a good five extra minutes before stepping out of the car herself.
She would flagellate herself for the mistake later. For now, she decided to seek consolation and drop by to annoy her favorite peer at Mount Para Productions. Just the thought of it lifted her spirits. She stepped boldly into the elevator designated just for her, and up the iron and steel giant she climbed.
The elevator hummed. Victoria hummed along with it. Was today the day? Her thoughts always wandered like this on the ride up. Maybe, today he will look up. Maybe, today he will look at me.
She muttered a curse to herself. She should have worn something with a lower cut. Always be prepared, even if it is a long shot. She looked down at her pantyhose. I’ll rip you if I have to, she thought. If today is the day and you have to be ripped, I’ll give you the medal of bravery.
Victoria found her target floor and navigated her way, as she had done so many times in the past, to finally stand before her desired door. She smoothed out her tight skirt and over corrected her pose so that her chest barely contained itself to her body. A perfectly manicured finger traced over ‘Kenneth Irons, Director of Cinematography’, the nameplate that sported the stunning, cursive lettering which never failed to get her excited.
Mischievously, she didn’t knock. She couldn’t remember the last time she did. The door gasped opened slightly and instantly the sounds of moaning and sucking carried straight to Victoria’s ears.
--
MARIA III
Maria Laney found a particular, newfound admiration for her previous encounter with Ms. Shields. The woman did not lie, the selected outfit was comfortable. Clingy, silk pants that flared out at the bottoms paired with an elegant, sleeveless cashmere turtleneck. Even more a shock, she had traded her stiletto heels for simple ballerina flats.
She was in a large room now by herself, the Twins having been gone already for a good ten minutes.
They had been most helpful with the preparations, the peppier one reassuring and encouraging Maria onward and forward. The quiet probably just wanted to kill them both.
“Don’t spend too much time dawdling, Ms. Laney,” the talkative one advised. “Mr. Hunley won’t come in until you’re in your position and ready to work. And there is much work to be done. And don’t ever move from your position unless Mr. Hunley says otherwise.”
Maria couldn’t help it and took in as much of the quarters as possible. An intricate, crystal chandelier lit the room features well. Large bookcases with impressive, old fashioned bound books to one side. Multiple sewing machines and even an ornate, hand driven loom dwelled at the opposite end.
“Position? How will I know where I should be?” Maria had inquired.
“Oh ho, you’ll know, my sweet child.”
Her guide was right, there was no mistaking her place. The centerpiece of the room, a grand and majestic, mahogany desk. Maria thought it looked as old as time itself, yet it had such a fresh sheen over its polished surface that the age was impossible for her to determine. Resting on top was an equally well kept, mechanical typewriter. She noted the two large stacks of white paper residing on each side of the black, steel toothed beast.
Maria’s eyes dropped downward. The desk had sizeable gap that would make the legs of the one who sat down in its accompanying chair, very visible. Furthermore, the pattern design right in the same gap, centrally located under the desktop, was different from the rest of the carpeting that spread across the room.
Yes, she knew exactly where to be. Maria got down on all fours and calmly crawled her way underneath. The pattern was the matching black swirls as the playing card back, the mark of ‘The Spider King’. She waited with abated breath. Would the room flip upside down, revealing the horrific, eight armed king of hearts? Would haunting eyes and fangs rip her soul from her very body?
She heard the door open, then close. The footsteps of Mr. Charles Hunley.
--
VICTORIA III
Victoria Shields closed the door quietly, her eyes never straying from where Kenneth Irons sat. From his reclining chair, he was slightly off center from the desk in front of him, but he was still staring at one, or possibly all three of his computer monitors.
She found it quite amusing, the way that only the bridge of his nose to the top of his head would be visible behind the screens, if you looked at a certain angle. He was typing something too, the clack clack from a keyboard, amidst other, certain distinguishable sounds.
“Why, hello Mr. Kenneth Irons, Director of Cinematography for Mount Para Productions,” Victoria cooed. Any normal person, upon hearing their name and full title over and over, day in and day out would go crazy. Kenneth wasn’t normal.
He didn’t budge or look from his monitor. “Ms. Shields.”
Victoria was well used to the indifference and wore it like a badge of honor. She sauntered over to his desk, over exaggerating the swivel of hips on purpose because she knew he wasn’t even looking. One day, he would look, and she would catch his eyeballs when they popped out. She had to take her small victories when she could. She had to.
“Ms. Maria Laney should be well on her way to fulfilling her role to Mr. Hunley,” Victoria announced. Her palm rested on the surface before her, and with a flex and semi tippytoe, she looked for Kenneth’s assistant.
“Hmm,” was the reply he gave her.
Victoria spotted her immediately. The red hair flared vibrantly as the young girl’s head bobbed back and forth rhythmically before Kenneth’s crotch. Anything more was obscured from view, but the motion told the whole story.
“Oh, a ginger this time, Kenneth?” She opted for cleverness over bitterness. “Watch out, they are known to bite.”
“Hmm,” Kenneth responded as he pushed up his glasses with a single finger. Victoria loved that quirk of his. It’s why she started doing it in the first place too. Imitation being the best kind of flattery and all that. What would he do if she pushed up his glasses for him?
The sucking sound grew louder.
She knew that Kenneth, although hard for any man to imagine and believe, despised and loathed this particular aspect of the job. He was a serious man, a ‘work first, play never’ type that seemed from out of this planet. But she also knew that he respected Charles Hunley adamantly, and orders only held significance and merit if they were followed.
Mr. Hunley brought them into the folds of his world at the same time. It was shocking at first, but repeated and deliberate explanations made it clear. True artists and visionaries made the best creations, not within the confines of relaxation and serenity, but only when the work was forged against the anvil of distress and turmoil. Or something like that. And apparently, there was no purer distress and turmoil than sex. According to Mr. Hunley, if you could get things done despite the huge distractions of your animal instincts, you had a gift.
“True, fiery passion. This is what we seek to make, to mold, to hold with our mortal hands,” Hunley had lectured. “And what more could be expected as the end result? Nothing less than perfection, when a man creates it while fighting against his basest desires. The raw, natural need to have the opposite, feminine creature known as a woman, to worship him as a god.”
Thinking back to it, Victoria had hoped that she was to be that woman for Kenneth. His wanton, desperate muse. Her mouth was ready and willing to open for him at anytime. The slit between her slender legs ready and willing to be used as he so pleased.
The brief, singular event when they had met and waited in the conference room. Whenever Victoria recalled that moment, and she often did as it was one of the easiest and quickest ways to achieve orgasm, she never felt more alive and fulfilled.
She broke out of her reverie. The sucking sound continued, the clack clack of the keyboard had not stopped either. Victoria’s panties were already soaked through. The scent would soon turn into a heavy musk, a creation of her own in a sort of way. She remained motionless, but every inch and fiber of her being was resisting the urge to bash the red headed slut out her way, claiming her rightful spot between Kenneth’s knees.
She would make him come like no other woman, the mouth greedily devouring the object of her affection. In her mind’s eye, Victoria’s lips would seal the bulbous head of his member at precisely the right moment, when his hips thrusted uncontrollably. Not a drop would be wasted. Hot, creamy essence would flood her world and it would feel like heaven. Sometimes when she dreamed she could taste it.
His brow signaled the growing pressure he must have been facing, as sweat started to pool. The time between the clack and next clack elongated ever so slightly, more and more. His body was betraying him, the fingers slowing down and giving up on their task.
The slut must have felt it too, her hands grasping Kenneth’s thighs. Victoria frowned. The echo of sucking transformed into slurping.
Finally, Kenneth gave way, his hands abandoning the keyboard and gripping the edge of the desk with a violent shake. All three of the monitors trembled from the disturbance. Victoria grabbed on to one that actually almost fell over.
The slut lasted for only the first two spurts, then reeled back with gags as he continued to shoot his seed in a high arc.
Victoria’s eyes dilated, fixated on the ropes of cum that streamed out of his throbbing cock. She wouldn’t have wasted so much. Disdain arose quickly inside of her. She would make sure the ginger was punished accordingly.
With his last grunt subsiding, Kenneth let out an audible, exhalation of breath. He pushed up his glasses.
“Ms. Shields,” Irons said, his voice returning to steadiness. “While I appreciate your company, I have a large task before me. This first draft of storyboards is incredibly convoluted and is simply a disaster. It looks like I’ll be occupied all night.”
“I understand,” Victoria solemnly replied. She turned and went for the door. Her hand gripped the knob. One day, she thought, she would be the one to occupy him all night.
--
MARIA IV
Maria Laney’s body rekindled with the same feeling as she had experienced in the elevator with the Twins. The warmth danced with the urges and it almost seemed as if the universe itself was pouring into her. The mark. Just what had happened to me?
Hunley was seated, the mechanical typewriter obeying his commands and whims. Ding. Clack clack.
Maria recalled the moment back in her apartment, the notion that some force had driven her off the sofa and to the floor. The position. Hands and knees. Her head underneath the coffee table. It all made sense now. Her core being had seen into the future, practicing for this exact moment. The real thing was always better than practice.
Her tongue slid slowly, first on the underside of Hunley’s shaft, back and forth. When she found herself at the tip, the lips formed with a slight pout, enveloping his head. She wanted to close her eyes and reach a higher level of the experience, but his length and girth demanded their attention. He was impressive to behold.
Inch by inch, Maria swallowed Hunley’s cock. The task required her to brace her hands against the undersides of the desk as she hit the deepest point. When she retreated, her throat couldn’t help but let loose a whimper.
How much time had lapsed since she started her endeavors? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Maria didn’t know anymore, nor did she care. An actress never wanted to hold back. She remembered the days of high school and the theater club. Every lead role was defined by her natural brilliance, but more importantly, her determination. There were only a few times when she took a minor role to appear more humble to her peers. Acting outside of acting. Meticulous planning.
A sudden thought invaded her mind as she continued her ministrations. Meticulous planning. Was he supposed to come in her mouth? Did he want her to pull back so it would splash all over her face? If the latter, certainly he would ruin her turtleneck, and possibly the important segment of carpet.
“When it comes to clothes and costuming, you’ll find no other studio that spins it better than ours,” Shields had said in the car. “Although please, take care to keep it clean.”
It was decided then, she would keep him in her mouth to the very end. For the sake of the cashmere at least. Her silk pants were already lost, the trickle coming from her wet, lower lips and staining through her crotch. If things continued and escalated more, she would not be able to make any promises about the carpet either.
Maria kept coating and worshiping Hunley’s erection. A few times, to her pleasant surprise, she could sense that his pelvis was trying to push into her face. A twitch of lust. Evidence of being wanted, to be invaded and filled.
The typewriter kept up its pace of dings and clacks. But then a different sound, the door again.
“Mr. Hunley, is there anything you need?”
Make no mistake, that’s Ms. Shields’ voice, thought Maria.
“For myself? No. I am very pleased at the progress I’ve made thus far.”
Come to think of it, that was the first time Maria heard his voice. He didn’t say one word when he had entered and sat before her.
“Ms. Laney perhaps needs, no, deserves something. A reward for all her efforts,” Hunley continued.
More footsteps. Then nails dug into her backside, the sound of ripped silk. Hunley thrust forward into her mouth again, then back. Maria could taste the new deposit of salty precum that pooled on her tongue.
Maria began to feel the flicking of Shields’ tongue around the folds of her vagina. A tinge of embarrassment came. She remembered how they sat, side by side, on the ride to the Parker Building. Maria, refined actress. Shields, elegant producer. It was all wrong. They were whores.
--
Day by day would pass, and Maria Laney took her work more seriously than the previous session. The first week had Hunley coming in her mouth so much that she could taste him long after the deed was done. The texture was thick and milky, and she didn’t mind that he obviously enjoyed alcohol and cigarettes. She welcomed the bitterness, the slight, sharp edge that it had.
Week by week would pass, and Maria Laney became bolder in her methods. She was addicted to his cum and considered it to be the most revitalizing part of her diet. For her meals, she began bringing them underneath that desk of his to eat. She especially enjoyed noodle dishes like pasta. The slurps all started to sound alike and her mouth seemingly always had something in it. When alone, she laughed to herself. The typewriter ding could double as a microwave.
Hunley didn’t seem to disapprove either. The first time she did this practice, it took a mere five minutes to shower her face with a glaze while she savored what she was chewing.
Day by day would pass, and Maria Laney would become greedier. His cum was most welcome as it had been so far, but she wanted to feel his length inside of her. To have the walls of her vagina stretched, taking the very shape and form of his cock after multiple uses. But she had to remain under the desk. So, her hands and knees position reversed, and she had pressed her cheek down on the floor in order to arch her rear high enough. Anticipation took on its own life, and during the first time she orgasmed right away when his tip penetrated her.
Maria pleaded with Ms. Shields to get Mr. Hunley a chair that would sit him slightly lower, and possibly with wheels. The angle didn’t allow for all degrees of thrusting. Wait, why did she even have to stay under? The typewriter wasn’t that clunky and there was plenty of room on that large surface. Shields had swatted her on the head, a playful reprimand.
Week by week would pass, and Maria Laney found herself pregnant. It was only logical with the sheer amount of his seed she had received. Even when it was just blowjobs, she would scoop some of the cum with her fingers and plunge them inside of herself. She went through dozens of pregnancy tests. At some point, when she hit triple digits, a prized test revealed the wonderful news.
--
The rest of the world churned on and on, oblivious to the going-ons in the top floors of the Parker Building.
There were rumors of course, but only pertaining to the supposed upcoming film from the notorious Mount Para Production company. The celebrity press wanted desperately a clue to the actor or actress cast for the main lead. The mainstream press wanted any tidbits on the genre and style. The business associated press wanted spoilers, as competing movie companies didn’t like it when the juggernaut of film kept its cards close.
Mount Para Productions had only been in existence for about twenty years. It didn’t produce a film every year, but it never had to. When one was released, everyone knew that all the accolades and awards would be snatched up. With its top notch translation and foreign market division, the films always were financial successes internationally as well.
Finally, one day, two years exactly to the date that a certain fortune was told by a ragged old woman, the company publicly released information about its new film.
‘The Spider King’, by Charles Hunley. Starring Maria Laney.
--
VICTORIA IV
“Years went by like this, but one night the most beautiful girl in the village, of merely six and ten years, had a dream under a rare, red moon,” Victoria Shields said.
Maria Laney smiled back at her. It was only fitting that they shared each other’s company in a limo that was speeding toward the opening night premiere. No canvas totes this time, they were both dressed to the nines in gorgeous, sleek gowns.
“No one knows what she dreamed, but she set out into the woods alone. Soon enough, she was ensnared by one the creature’s silk traps. But unlike all previous victims, she didn’t struggle or try to fight her bonds. The Spider King was deeply puzzled, for what prey acts like this when caught?”
Laney had popped open one of the champagne bottles and poured a glass for both of them. The bubbles danced with delight to the top.
“The girl had a plan though. She gyrated her body ever so, slight squirms here and there and warped the very silk itself. The creature realized that his trap had turned into wonderful clothing for the girl. Soft, delicate strands crissed and crossed over her body. She became more beautiful than ever. A silk dress on a figure so enchanting that the Spider King fell in love right then and there. His urge to terrorize the village faded away and the desire to create more and more pretty things for his love took him over.”
Their limo honked twice violently. The traffic came to a slow crawl. The city was alive with everyone trying to amass in one location, for one purpose, the new film from Mount Para Productions. Anyone who was anyone, and even then, anyone who thought they were anyone, was going to be there.
“The village prospered, the curse was lifted. Years passed and the Spider King wanted more. The last step. The creature shed away his immortality and became man. They made love for the first time, under a night which had a rare, red moon. The man dreamt that night, a powerful dream. But no one knows what he dreamed of.”
Laney had already finished her first glass. Her smile was ever present, and she locked on Victoria’s eyes with her own.
“The girl, now a woman grown, killed him the morning after. A blade through his heart. She returned to the village she had left so long ago, with the secrets to weave and spin the most beautiful clothes in all the land.”
--
KENNETH I
Kenneth Irons stood in the VIP section of the red carpet. His eyes scanned the street before him, but what he wanted wasn’t there to be found. He fiddled with a box inside his tuxedo pants pocket.
Three months ago, with the project pretty much wrapped up, he had made his intentions clear to Charles. He had his apprehensions of course, but courage, greatly spurred on by celebratory drinking, helped immensely.
“We’ve had a wonderful run, Charles. Everything you said, fire, passion, true art and creation. It all paid off. Now I’d like the enjoy it.”
The revenue and profit that the company had accumulated over the years was astronomical. Six months from now an entire new skyscraper would be built, in a different section of the city. Hunley Tower was set to be the highest, most technologically modern structure to date. The press release mentioned a grand total of one hundred and twenty-three floors. And not only taking a cue from the Parker Building with stores and businesses, several floors were already locked up for university and education purposes. The top floors, however, well, shouldn't be a surprise.
Mount Para Productions was ready to move out of the Parker Building for good. The budget for the moving transition was enormous, as if a whole country was mobilizing for war. Ms. Shields had laughed hysterically when the budget portion dedicated to cleaning the office carpets was revealed.
Charles surprised him a bit. He had thought that this would put stress on a long standing friendship and business relationship, but there was no such thing. There was nothing but blessings and best wishes.
“So, who will take the other’s name?” Charles inquired.
Kenneth didn’t understand, pushing up his glasses. “What are you..”
“Victoria Shields Irons sounds awkward. Really awkward, like a home improvement product. But Kenneth Irons Shields.. sounds like a home improvement show.”
It was perhaps the only time Kenneth heard Charles make a joke.
--
CHARLES I
Charles Hunley was going to miss the debut, but he didn’t care. He was in his office, the place where he was most comfortable and had worked so hard over the years.
He walked over to the bookshelves, removing an entire row to reveal a small safe affixed into the wall. Quick turns of the dial and it cracked open.
First he took out a photo. Maria holding their child, moments after the birth at the hospital. Sadly he couldn't have been there. He would've been recognized and the press would have a field day regarding the head of Mount Para Productions and a strange, unknown woman and newborn.
He took out a second photo, this one dusty and tattered. Black and white, it pictured a group of five people, old fashioned and obviously from some time long ago. At the bottom, the names, and even occupations, were listed according to position, from left to right.
‘Victor Shields - Blacksmith’
‘Kevin Irons - Blacksmith’
‘Matthew Laney - Banker’
‘Christopher Hunley - Tailor’
For the final name, all was smudged and unreadable except for ‘- Fortune Teller’.
--
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