It was the third day of a long session, and I could hear the fatigue in her voice. It mirrored my own on the other side of the glass. My ears hurt from more than twenty hours under the cans, and my back was sore, regardless of how comfortable the chair under my ass had been when we started. The lady on the other side of the glass had a sultry voice. Despite the long hours, I could listen to it forever. She was not eye candy by anyone’s definition, but I thought she could hold her own. She had some beautiful curves and a pretty face, although the mic and some baffles partially obscured it at the moment. When her voice hitched, I had been staring off into space, looking at the script but not seeing it. She stopped and looked at me. I hit pause on the recording, then flipped the switch.
“Start again at the paragraph?” I asked as I backed up the virtual head and made a mark.
“Yes, please,” she said.
She settled herself, and I opened the line between us as I rested my fingers on the control switch.
I pushed record on the two count, and she took a breath on the quiet one count and started again. I watched her as she read from the teleprompter. When she recorded, she tended to stand straight, her hands relaxed at her sides and slightly away from her body. She had worn jeans and a t-shirt for the first couple of days. Today, she had no desire to dress up any more than needed. She had tossed the jeans for yoga pants, and the t-shirt was considerably looser than previous days. It obscured her curves, yet highlighted them as well. At first, I was not sure what I was witnessing. Her hand moved up and seemed to trace the inner curve of her breast. She did this a couple of times, and I heard her breath hitch. I smiled slightly as I hit the pause again.
“Want to do that again?” I asked over the speaker.
“Yes,” she said.
I counted down, and she began again. Again, she started to caress her breast. Her hand moved outward, and her nail passed over where I estimated her nipple was. There was no hiding the hitch in her voice this time as she dropped her hand. I looked up to her eyes, and they smiled back at me.
“From the top?” I asked over the intercom.
“Sure. Give me a five count?” she asked.
“Just a second.”
I fiddled a couple of settings and moved my finger over the trigger.
“And five, four….”
At four, her hands grasped the hem of her shirt. At three, she pulled it up and over in a practiced move. She had my full attention as I hit the trigger at one. The shirt floated to the ground, and she started reading again, but her hands were not idle. She brought both of them up to her breasts where they hid behind a white cotton bra. Her nipples poked out through the material, and she quickly raked them with her nails. She moved from scraping them to flicking them. Her voice faltered and was replaced promptly by heavy breathing, gasps, and moans. She rolled her nipples between her fingers. Her eyes fluttered, and any pretense of recording the script in front of her was gone. She gasped again and moved her hands to cup and squeeze her breasts. Her eyes opened, and she looked at me, where I looked at her. She smiled, then winked. I stopped the recording.
“That was a take,” I said with a smile.
“I think I can do better,” she said.
“You’re the talent,” I said with a shrug and a smile.
“Five count again, please,” she asked.
“Coming up. In five….”
At four, her hands slipped behind her back, and at three, her bra came loose. At two, it fell to the floor, and by one, there was no pretense of recording her lines as she squeezed her breasts and pulled on her nipples. Her breasts were lovely to look at, and her nipples sat on her puffy areola. Her moans echoed through my headphones as she pleasured herself. A rosy glow spread across her chest and moved up towards her neck, a sign of how much she was enjoying this session. Her head fell back as she sighed long and deep. Her hands moved back to squeeze her breasts as she looked at me again through the glass.
“I liked that,” she said.
I pushed pause on the recording.
“Worked for me, too,” I said with a smile.
“Can I try something different?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Have you been recording all of this?”
“Except our conversations, yes.”
“Good. Five count again, please?”
“Here we go.”
I gave the five. At three, she slid a hand down her body, and by one, her hand was inside her pants. From where I sat, I watched her hand slip between her legs, and I could imagine her fingers slid over her lips and clit. Her breath came in short gasps and alternated with moans of pleasure as she focused on her pussy. Her nipples seemed to swell as she did this. She pinched her nipple, and her cry was a long gasp that put the needles into the red for a minute. She gasped as she pulled her hand out of her pants and looked at me. She licked her finger, seductively.
“You want to do that again?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Give me a second?”
“Take your time.”
She nodded, then took her headphones off. She looked around the room before she walked over to the stool in the corner. She pulled it over to her mark, then bend down and pulled her shoes off. She had my complete attention as I watch her. She slipped her socks off and put them on her shoes.
“How sensitive is this mic?” she asked.
“It’s focused around your voice. When you scratch your neck, I can hear it, but much below that is lost to it.”
She squared herself to my view and made sure I was watching. She put her hands in the waistband of her pant and then pushed them down, slowly. She had nice hips. Her pussy hair was trimmed, and there was a faint tan line where her bathing suit may have rested at one point. Her skin overall was pale but had been tanned at least once in the past. Her pants slid over her knees, and she pushed them off her feet. She brushed off the top of the stool before she shimmied her ass up onto it. She put the headphones back on, hooked one foot around one of the legs, and rested another on one of the cross rungs. She was as naked as the day she was born. She settled herself, so she knew I had a perfect view of her body. I could see the moisture on her lips.
“Ready?” she asked.
I swallowed, then stood up before I undid my pants and pushed them down to my knees. My cock stood up and out.
“Yes, you certainly are,” she said. “Five count, please?”
By one, she had her hands on her breasts again. I moved my hand from the board to my cock as I watched her. She squeezed her breasts again before she moved her hand to her pussy. I watched as she slid a finger along her legs before she slipped it over her pussy lips. I listened, watched, and stroked as she circled her clit, panted, and moaned. Her clit turned rosy under her ministrations. The head of my cock purpled. She squeezed her nipple, and my cock oozed with desire. She slipped a finger inside her before she slid two fingers over her clit. She mauled it as her breath came in ragged gasps. She cried out, sending the levels into the red. She panted and cried out.
“Now, now, now,” she cried.
That was all I needed, and cum poured out of the head of my cock. I managed to keep it from hitting the board, but only just as my knees gave out and I slumped back into the chair.
“How was that,” she asked between gulps of air.
“I need a smoke,” I said with a laugh.”
She laughed too as she looked at me.
“I think I am done for the day,” she said.
“Shall we do this again tomorrow?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“You may need to wire another microphone in here though. We want to make sure we get all the ambient noises.”
“I will make sure it is properly placed before you get here.”
“If you wait, you won’t have to guess.”
“Then, I will see you tomorrow. I would hate to get it wrong.”
As we talked, she pulled her clothes back on. I cleaned up the room and made sure the recordings were locked away safely until I could get them parsed out safely.
“Have a great evening,” she said as she picked up her bag.
The Talent has their entrance. She slipped out the door, and it closed quietly behind her as I cleaned up the debris from the day and let myself out of the studio. I was already thinking about what tomorrow might bring as I caught a cab and headed uptown.