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This was an opportunity you have been waiting for for a long, long time.
As an actor, it was hard to make a name for yourself in this industry. Sure, you had picked up a few roles every now and then, but none of them were massive hits. They were like jobs to put on your resume and nothing more, hoping to eventually break even and get somewhere, a bigger role that would surely become popular. You just needed a lead role, a star performance in a movie that would be sure to wow people. Heck, maybe you'd even win an award for it, if you were still lucky. But for a while, you thought you just had your head in the clouds hoping.
Until today.
This role - it was almost unbelievable that the opportunity came to you. You'd be sure to be a star with this. It was the lead role in a highly anticipated movie that recently got greenlit. And when you applied, you surely thought that there was no way that you would make it to auditions with your resume. When the letter from the studio arrived, you held your breath and opened it. You braced yourself for a rejection.
But you were accepted.
You. You, of all people, who hasn't even had one major role - you were picked for an audition. You were practically over the moon about it. Once the feeling of being absolutely elated had passed, you admittedly panicked. How were you so sure that you were going to nail the role? You were going to be competing, possibly, against tons of others. You were certain you were going to be the least experienced person there. How can you be so sure that you'll get picked above everyone else?
It was a couple of difficult nights before audition day. It was very, very hard to sleep once the anxiety had consumed you. You had to do something, make a name for yourself, try to look as impressive as you can possibly appear. There has to be some sort of plan here, some way to wow the person who's going to be evaluating you for the role. But in the end…you came up short the day of. You had nothing. Nothing to separate you from the others. When you walked in that building, you were prepared for complete failure.
Your outfit wasn’t terribly expensive, but you still liked to look somewhat impressive. You obsessed over your hair the day of and basically had to rip yourself from the mirror to head over to the studio. Still, you were paranoid about not looking good enough. Just barely missing the role because, what, you had a strand of hair that stuck out or something. Or your shirt wasn't properly tucked in. Something stupid like that. Ugh. You’ve dealt with persnickety directors like that before, so you're not about to put the possibility behind you.
One, final deep breath, and you were in the audition room. A man at the table immediately took notice of you. You recognized him as one of the bigwigs of the network - what, Vincent something? It makes sense why he would be the one evaluating you. Well, that's what you assume he's here for, anyways. The man has dark hair with grey streaks running through it. His age is definitely beginning to show, but it doesn't look bad on him. Not one bit. He's been at this particular company for so many years now - god, probably most of your life?
“Um- hi!” You wave at him nervously. Admittedly, you know very little about the man. You've seen him on TV, of course, he's practically inescapable. But as for his actual personality outside of public appearances, very little is known about him. He seems to be a rather private person. Interesting for someone of his position. You're trying to glean how difficult it'll be to work with him. He flashes a smile and sets down a mug he had with him, walking over to you.
“Welcome! Nice to see you! [Name], right?” The man takes your hand and shakes it anyway before even asking. You notice now on closer inspection that he has two different colored eyes. Huh. “Vincent Whittman. I'll be evaluating your audition.”
“Ah- nice to meet you, sir.” You look self consciously at your hand and let go at your earliest convenience. You would've instinctively wiped your hand on your pants if you didn't know any better. Thankfully, you had enough common sense to process that could possibly be seen as rude. “I'm really grateful to have the opportunity to be here today. I honestly didn't think I'd get this far.”
“Don't even mention it. We love to take in up and coming actors! After all, talent is just flourishing everywhere these days.” This guy's laugh is extremely heartfelt. There's something slightly gruff about it. His glasses reflect some light off from the overhead lighting. “Here, come this way. I'd love to learn more about you.”
Vincent motions to the center of the room where you'll be auditioning for the role. There's a marking on the floor that indicates where you should be standing. You take note of it and stand with your head tall, keeping your posture in check. Vincent sits back down at his desk and takes a sip of whatever is in his mug - probably coffee or water - before speaking to you again. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
“Oh, sure! Well, I started acting 7 years ago…” You think back to the first time you were enraptured by TV. Honestly, the second your parents decided to bring one into the house, you knew you wanted to be one of those glittering show stars. But it was so hard to work your way up the ladder. “I've been in a couple of small roles, mostly in TV shows. One of my better accomplishments was being a side character in a movie. It flopped at the box office, but it's still one of the bigger roles I've gotten. My family wasn't super well off, so it took some time to-”
Vincent smiles and waves a hand at you. “Great, great. That's all good. Now, I'm assuming you've read the script already? It should've come in the mail.”
You're startled by the sudden change in topic…and vaguely offended, but you try to keep up. “Yeah- I…I've read it.” You've read it dozens of times just to make sure you don't fuck it up.
“Awesome! Alright then. You can start whenever you're ready.” Vincent rests both of his legs on the table rather casually. Well…you can hardly decipher anything about this guy. He's either going to be annoying as fuck to work with or very laid-back.
“Alright,” You say to confirm. “Alright.” The second time it's repeated is in more of a hushed whisper. You take a deep breath, taking a moment to try and immerse yourself in this character. To become the character, beyond yourself. And so you start speaking. There are a couple of mistakes that you wish you could go back and fix, but you eventually make it to the end of the very short segment. Only a minute must've passed, but it felt like an entire lifetime under the limelight. Having people watch you from the comfort of their own home was always different than having directors watch you.
Vincent claps both of his hands together once you're done. “Wooow. Very endearing. What a personality!” Something about the way he speaks feels a little sarcastic. He quickly takes his eyes off you and scribbles something down on paper. For a split second you swear you can catch some… feeling of annoyance from him, but it's probably just anxiety. You slump over. Fuck posture. The hardest part is over.
“Well- uh, how did I do?” You ask with a forced smile. Vincent looks up from his paper as if he just noticed you were there again.
“Well, you'll receive a letter in the mail telling you if you got the role or not. Should be something like a month or two. In business days, of course.”
“Well, I just…I don't want to sound combative, but…” You try to word yourself in a way that sounds polite. Vincent’s smile fades from his face. It's a little startling, to be honest. “I just- you know, wanted to hear some feedback? So I can improve? Rejection letters are so common, but they don't really get into the nitty-gritty…”
Vincent doesn't respond for a couple of seconds before sighing. He's fidgeting with a pen in his hand. “You wanna know what I think?”
“Absolutely.”
“I think,” Vincent glares at you. “You don't have a shot in hell of being the lead in anything.”
Ouch.
That stings.
“Well… uh…why not?” You ask. You have to hold back your rage against this man's bluntness.
“You just don't have it in you yet. Think about it. You're a nobody. No one even knows who you are!” Vincent has this smug grin on his face as he motions to you. “And… there's just nothing remarkable about you. Nothing showy. Nothing new. Nothing unique. That's just how it is, unfortunately.”
Phew. You swear that your face is heating up. You're not going to cry - you've heard harsher words, and in this industry, it only makes you look weak. The more you cry, the less roles you get. So you stand up straight in an attempt to maybe intimidate this man, show him that you're more than a loser who's going to shun away at his criticism. “I appreciate the critique. What do you think I can do better?”
Vincent sighs, a little frustrated. “I don't know, babe. Just seems like something you'll have to figure out on your own.” You pause at him calling you babe. Who the hell does he think he is?? For a moment there's stunned silence, and then, it looks like Vincent realizes something. He grins at you, completely changing his tone. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” You spat at him. It sounds sharper than you intended it to be. Almost angry.
“Oh, I just had a sudden… epiphany. I could help you, if you want me to.” This guy's expression is so smug. You want to rip the grin off his face right now. The way he fidgets with his pen annoys you. He points at you with it. “If you're up for it.”
“I'm up for anything.” You puff out your chest. It probably looks incredibly arrogant, but whatever.
“Anything?” He asks. You do not like the tone in his voice.
“Uh… yes?”
Vincent chuckles under his breath and steps out of his seat, walking towards you. “I think you have some real talent. Truly. With a little guidance, maybe you could have what it takes.” He rests both of his hands on your shoulders. You resist the urge to swat him away. “I just want you to do something for me first.”
“What in question?” You ask nervously.
“Oh, it's quite simple, really,” Vincent gets closer and closer to you. As you get more and more uncomfortable, you try to back away from this man who seems to have no concept of personal space. “I'll help you get the role you want. And all you have to do,” He continues on. Your back hits the table behind you. “...Is let me have you.”
Vincent leans over you as you try your damndest to back away from him. God damn this shitty desk. You can almost feel his breath on your face. Talk about creepy.
“That doesn't mean what I think it means,” You say. Unsure if it's trying to assure yourself of if it's more of a question.
“Oh, it does.”
You have no idea how to respond to this. As this man, who is probably almost 2 decades older than you, towers over your short frame, the only thought you have is that this has got to be an HR violation or something. Not like HR ever gives a fuck.
“M-Mr. Whittman, I don't think-”
He rests one of his hands on your face. “Hey, sweetheart, just call me Vincent. Don't worry about it.”
“...Vincent,” You repeat yourself. “I think this is highly unprofessional.”
“Well, you said you would do anything, wouldn't you? This would guarantee your role. You can trust me on that.”
You think about it for a moment. It's absolutely insane. It's crazy, and creepy, at that. But you haven't been successful in your acting career at all, and you're approaching a decade of stagnation. At worst you're going to have to go back to working dead end jobs just to make ends meet, and maybe even give up on your dream. God. You would give anything not to go back to that life. Truly anything. You let out a shaky breath.
“Okay,” You mumble. Vincent's smile widens at your reluctant response.
“Good answer.”
His voice has audibly lowered. It sounds… intimidating. A whole shiver goes down your body, and you flinch when he brings his face down to your neck. You noticed that he had some semblance of fangs before, but now that he's digging his teeth into the flesh of your neck, you realize how sharp they actually are. You squirm as he sucks at the wound he created, probably leaving a bruise for everyone to see in a very visible spot.
The panic actually begins to settle in when he unbuttons your shirt. He looks down at your fully exposed chest, rising and falling. He must've noticed your discomfort, because he grabs you by the shoulders and leans in. “Don't worry. It'll be great. Not a lot of people get this…opportunity,” He says before nipping at your ear. So this is some kind of power fantasy for him or something. Ugh. You roll your eyes in self-assurance. Surely this isn't going to be that bad.
You keep saying that. That it'll be over soon. And yet, as his hands trail over your bare skin, why does it vaguely feel nice? The way he caresses you makes you feel like he's trying to calm you down in some way. It's hard to be calm when his arms are wrapped around you, and you're also trapped against his desk. Vincent breathes in the scent on your clothing. You might've used a tiny bit of perfume this morning. “It's like you were expecting this,” He comments. “Mmm.”
Gross. Yuck. Euuugh.
…It should be.
So why isn't it?
Finally, he separates from you. He puts both of his hands on his hips and cocks an eyebrow when you don't move from your spot. “Well? Sit,” He says and points to the floor. Only then do you realize how truly fucked you are. Literally. Hesitating, you get on both knees in front of him. “Much better,” He replies and fiddles with the belt around his waist. His slacks fall to the floor. You look down at them for a brief moment, noticing his boxers.
Is that…?
Are those fucking shark themed boxers??
Oh my god.
A smile appears on your face. It's clear that you're trying not to burst into laughter. Vincent, unlike you, doesn't find this as humorous. You flinch when the man violently grabs your hair and causes you to look up. “Hey,” He says sharply. “Don't get distracted.”
The laughter bubbling up in your throat pretty much dies instantly. Your eyes finally meet with the long, slender cock in front of you. It's mostly shaven, with some remnants of a stubble growing back. You have to wonder how often he does things like this. You're far from inexperienced, but his size is a little intimidating. You inspect it for a couple of seconds before Vincent tugs on your hair again. Impatient. The tip of his cock slides into your mouth as you slowly try and take on more of his length.
You've gotten about halfway before deciding this is as comfortable as it's going to get. You stroke the remaining half of his length with your hand, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. Vincent is awfully silent. When you look up at him, he almost appears bored with you. You can only catch a quick glimpse of his expression before he grabs your hair again.
“You can do better than that,” He chides before shoving your entire head down onto him. You choke from the suddenness of it, the weird feeling in the back of your throat. If your mouth wasn't completely full, you might've vomited. Your hands fall to your sides as you try to keep yourself steady. He jerks your head around this way and that, having a tight grip on the back of your hair. A satisfied moan escapes him. Tears well up in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation and the pain searing along your scalp. It's difficult to breathe.
“Fuuuck,” He sighs. “See? Just like I told you. All you need is a little help-” Vincent's breath hitches. “And you can do anything perfectly.”
Just when you're absolutely sure you're going to throw up, your head gets jerked back again. His cock pops out of your mouth with a string of spit connected. Your lips are completely red. Immediately after, you take in a massive breath, relieved to finally be able to get oxygen again. Vincent stares at you with self satisfaction. He leans down and basically grabs you, trying to pick you up. You squirm in his grasp.
“The hell are you doing?”
“Just helping you get up,” he assures. Once you've gotten back up on your feet, he leans you over the table, lying you down. There's barely any time to think or protest about the position before he drags your pants down. They fall around your ankles. This studio suddenly feels a lot colder than it was before, having the air hit your bare skin like this. He leans over you and shoves the full length of himself inside without any further preparation. You squirm, trying to ground yourself by clenching nothing beneath you. You almost don't trust this desk not to fall apart like this.
“Fuck yes…so tight,” He mumbles to himself before running a hand through his hair, brushing back a stray strand of hair out of his face. You have to admit that he is extremely attractive. Both of his hands wrap around your waist as he thrusts into you, making you whimper. Every little noise you make seems to amuse him. You lose yourself in the feeling of his calloused hands roaming your stomach, the fullness inside of you. You jerk with every thrust, like a wave of electricity shocking you every time.
“You are so fucking attractive,” Vincent praises you as his hands trail back up to your chest. “Maybe not talented, but at least you've got a pretty face.”
The compliment goes straight to your head. You moan when he praises you, throwing your head back against the table beneath you. If there was one good thing about being an actor, it was the compliments. Even if he did call you talentless. He definitely took notice of your delighted reaction. “You like that, babe?”
“Y-yes,” You reply through heavy breathing. He leans down to plant kisses along your neck and chest. A small amount of drool sticks to your skin.
“Such a good job you're doing. You just love this, don't you?”
He mumbles more curses under his breath as he grips your hips with more force, shoving himself in you as deep as possible. You whine and squirm underneath him, feeling like your brain is going to melt every time he says something good about you. “Look at you! Whoring yourself out to me,” He laughs at the concept of having full control over you. “And to think you're all mine.”
“Please,” You whimper, grabbing him and tugging at his suit jacket. You find yourself wanting more of him. Even if this situation is so wrong, the gap in power between you is so wide, all you want is more. More.
Vincent grabs you by both of your shoulders. “Tell me just how good I make you feel.”
You cry out when he hits just the right spot within you. “Vincent-! Fuck! Please…please- just like that,” You whine a string of incoherent words, babbling as coherent thought starts to slip away. You find yourself repeatedly calling out his name, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your fingers into his clothes. He groans every time you praise him, every time you beg for more.
“As long as I get to fuck you like this, you can have whatever role you want,” He breathes out. “Shit.”
The sensation pooling in your stomach is getting stronger and stronger. The only thing you can think about is chasing your release. “I'm going to-!”
“Do it, babe. Cum for me,” Vincent growls and grabs your hips more tightly. All it takes is a couple more thrusts, and you're squirming below him. Your legs shake violently as you hit the peak of your orgasm. Vincent doesn't stop as you drown in pleasure, moaning all the while. The sense of bliss you feel is overwhelming. After you've passed your high, Vincent pulls out and jerks himself off a couple of times before cumming on your stomach. The low groan he emits before doing so is like music to your ears.
There are a couple seconds where you stare at one another. Vincent looks at you through his glasses, studying you with his multicolored eyes. Strands of hair fall in his face. What was previously a very well-kept haircut is now falling apart. He adjusts his composure and runs his hands through his hair again, trying to fix it to look a little more presentable. The post-nut clarity hits you quickly when you become aware of the sticky liquid on your abdomen.
“You could've done it anywhere but on me,” You scoff. “Do you have tissues or something?”
“Not my job to clean up after you,” Vincent pulls up his slacks. You get a glimpse of the shark briefs one more time. God. This is the man you just slept with to get a role.
“I can see you're not one for chivalry,” You comment and wipe the liquid off, rubbing it on your pants instead. You can throw them in the wash later.
Vincent smirks. Now he's gone back to being nothing but a smug asshole. “Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, sweetheart.”
You just roll your eyes at him. You will pretend. Because this was a professional exchange and nothing more. “Go to hell,” You comment sarcastically. The man laughs.
“I'm sure I will! But hey,” He leans in again. “The role you wanted? Consider it done. You can always trust me.” He shakes your hand again, just like he did at the beginning of the meeting. “Welcome to the team, [Name].”
Vincent leaves the room, not even being bothered to help you as you remain half naked on his desk. You sigh and button your shirt back up, trying to get your things together.
What have you gotten yourself into?