The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Near the end of the month, the call came. “Girlfriends’ Getaway” would begin filming in two weeks. That was exactly the amount of advance notice stipulated in the contract, so it was fair enough.

Jenna looked forward to it. She just knew that it would be a fun and exciting project. A good paycheck and a percentage of gross on a successful project—she had a really good feeling about that—were just icing on the cake. Better yet, this might be only the beginning, if she could get signed up with a long-term option.

The deal was too good to worry about why she’d gotten carried away and signed it without any of her usual back-and-forth negotiation. They were giving her enough money, and if she didn’t like the waiver clause all she had to do was not invoke it. The audition had been a bit weird, she admitted, but it wasn’t like she’d actually started making out with another woman. She’d just pretended to make out with another woman to show off her acting chops. It was just a silly little game, like the way some of her college girlfriends used to kiss each other to get the guys all hot and bothered.

She had a big gig coming up, and all was right with the world.

The plane was a half-hour late taking off, and the car rental office took another half hour to find a replacement vehicle after the one reserved for her refused to start. After that, it took Jenna three tries to find the driveway to the resort parking lot; she finally noticed the sign hidden behind a hanging tree branch. After she reached the site, it took a bit of exploration to find the “Welcome Center” where she was supposed to check in.

None of that really dampened her mood. As usual, she’d allowed plenty of extra time just in case, and so she arrived right on schedule.

Merry was waiting, along with another woman who had to be Christine Gwynnis. According to last week’s memo from the “Got Game!” corporate offices, she and Jenna were going to be the costars of the show. The “plot”, what there was of it other than various flimsy excuses to parade around in bikinis, lingerie, and slinky dresses, would be “Odd Couple” type comedy.

Christine was no slob, to be sure. She wore a black leather jacket and matching pants that neatly complemented her trim athletic frame. Her short black hair and olive complexion were flawless. Apparently this “odd couple” dichotomy was going to be “tough” versus “feminine”.

She stepped up to greet her new partner. “Hello, Christine.” Before she could extend a hand, the other woman pulled her into a bear hug. “Hey there, Jenna!” she cried right into her ear.

“Christine is a bit touchy-feely,” Merry said as Jenna finally extricated herself. “You’ll get used to it.”

The three women took their seats. “We’ll be ready to start shooting in two hours,” Merry said. “I realize that you’ll need time to get freshened up and in costume.” It was pretty obvious that the statement applied only to Jenna; Christine looked like she was already settled in. “Does anyone have any questions?”

“Are we going to be working from a script or winging it?” Jenna asked. The memo has strongly implied the latter without quite saying so, with lots of marketing-speak about “free-form creativity” and “actor input” and “experimentation”.

“Winging it, mostly,” Merry admitted. “I’ll be producing and directing, but the ‘directing’ part will be more general guidelines than exact instructions.“

Christine asked the next question. “I heard that the company is planning to make the show pay-per-view. Have you heard anything about that?”

“I was about to mention that myself. The current plan is to broadcast the first few clips on the network, and offer the rest on pay-per-view.”

“Clips? Not episodes?” Based on her experience with TV production, Jenna had been assuming that this two-week shoot was intended to create a two-hour pilot episode.

“You could call them clips or mini-episodes. The plan is to show ‘Girlfriends’ Getaway’ in fifteen-minute blocs, with about ten minutes of show and five minutes of bonus features: additional scenes, bloopers, behind-the-scenes commentary, that sort of thing.”

“So, the show is going to be mostly short pay-per-view items,” Christine said. “That leads to my big question—isn’t this show is going to rise or fall depending on whether or not we agree to work blue?”

It took Jenna a moment to connect the usual comedy-club meaning of the phrase to the present situation. Apparently Christine was in the same situation she was, with a contractual guarantee that she wouldn’t have to do nude or explicitly sexual scenes, but with the option of agreeing to do so in return for more money.

“I’m pretty confident that the show will do OK without that,” Jenna chimed in.

Christine brushed her off. “Thanks, but I’m asking for the official word.”

“The official word is ‘no comment’,” Merry answered. “Personally, I like to have as much artistic freedom as possible, so I’d be happier if you both trust me with a full range of options. That said, of course it’s ultimately your choice.”

Jenna squelched her annoyance. It was a cheap shot to guilt-trip her by suggesting that her refusal to pose naked would doom the project to failure or censor its creative vision.

“Any other questions?” There was a long silence.

“All right, then; let’s get right down to business,” Merry said. “The cabin where the two of you will be staying—”

“Excuse me?” Jenna interjected. She didn’t think the budget-cutting had gone that far. “I thought the company rented the whole place. Why do we have to share one cabin?“

“Your characters didn’t rent the whole complex. They ended up in one cabin because of a booking screwup,” Merry explained. “Having you actually share a cabin will help make the performance more realistic.“

“I hate Method acting,” Jenna groused. She recalled that the contract included “lodging” but didn’t say anything about single occupancy. She’d just assumed that. Oh, well, that was show business. The company was living up to its end, and she would live up to hers.

“Also, most of the cabins in the complex are being treated with wood preservative. The habitable ones are barely adequate for the crew and extra, and most of them have four or five people each. You two actually have it better than I do; I’m sharing a cabin with the chief electrician and the sound engineer, and both of them snore.” She shook her head ruefully.

Getting back on track, she repeated the comment she’d begun before the interruption. “The cabin where the two of you will be staying is set up for shooting the ‘introduction’ scene. The dressing rooms are through there.” Merry pointed. “As soon as Jenna has time to get freshened up, change, and get her makeup done, we can begin.”

The hot pink t-shirt with the reddish-pink heart wasn’t quite as embarrassing as the propeller beanie had been, but it was close. At least the temporary tattoo heart they’d insisted on applying to the back of her neck wasn’t visible. She still didn’t see why they’d bothered, when her new swept-back hairstyle with reddish streaks covered and camouflaged the design.

She’d asked; Merry had said that she’d find out later. It was probably a setup for some plot point or joke that would be sprung on her unawares to get “a more authentic reaction”. Directors loved to use that trick.

She rolled her eyes, which only served to remind her that the bright green contacts hadn’t quite settled into place. She blinked a couple times, then put her key in the slot and opened the door.

Christine was emptying her suitcase onto the double bed. “Not bad! I’m not even done unpacking and the girl’s here. Now that’s what I call customer service!” She began tossing clothes to the floor. “Just give me a minute to clear off the bed....”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Knocked out of character for the moment, she asked it a genuine question.

Christine looked puzzled. “Are you in the wrong room?” Enlightenment seemed to dawn in her expression. “Yeah, you must be in the wrong room. I specifically requested a girl with a nice big rack.”

“There’s nothing wrong with—” She stopped short, then tried to put things back on track. “This is my cabin! Get out!“

“I’ve got a receipt here that says different.” Christine took a sheet of paper off the TV table and thrust it at her.

This was more like the scene Jenna was prepared for. “Well, I’ve got a receipt that says it’s mine!“

“I got my receipt first.”

“That means mine is more up-to-date.”

“That means you could have sneaked a peek at mine and forged one with your name.”

“How do I know yours isn’t forged? If you forged it, you could have back-dated it.“

The two stared at each other, and reached a silent agreement that the joke was played out. They stomped toward the door to end the scene.

“Wait!” Christine cried as Jenna started to open the door. She reached out and flipped the back of Jenna’s hair aside. “A heart tattoo? Awwww, that’s so cute!“

Jenna threw the door open and stepped through. Christine followed. She called out “I’ve got an idea! You could get our names embroidered on the shirt and added to the tattoo!".

As soon as she was sure she was out of camera range, Jenna shut off her microphone and turned on Christine. “What the hell were you doing? You were making it sound like I was some kind of lesbian call girl!” she protested. “That wasn’t funny!”

“That was hilarious! You should have seen the look on your face,” Christine replied. “There’s nothing wrong with my rack!” she whined in a prissy parody of Jenna’s voice. She grinned. “OK, I admit that was mean. Your rack is just fine.”

“Stop that!”

“Maybe I will; maybe I won’t.”

Jenna shot her a dirty look.

“I’m just doing my job,” Christine explained. “If our lord and mistress Meredith Tritschler says it’s not funny, I’ll stop it and sincerely apologize. If she says it is funny, then I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth. We’ll leave it up to her; she’s the boss. Fair enough?“

Jenna gritted her teeth. She had to admit that Christine was right. This show was going to rely heavily on performer ad-libs and the director’s after-the-fact judgment thereof. She’d have to work with the results, whatever they were. That was show biz. If fulfilling her end of the contract meant putting up with Christine’s warped sense of humor, she’d deal with it.

Much to Jenna’s dismay, Merry not only thought Christine’s lecherous-lesbian act was funny, she encouraged her to make it into a running gag. Worse, she told Jenna to respond like a hapless straight—in the comedic sense—girl. The one glimmer of hope was that she agreed with Jenna’s objection that the joke would get worn out fairly quickly. She said that she had ideas for phasing it out in favor of something different, which she would explain in due course.

The set decorators had modified their cabin into what Christine called “Two-Face’s hideout”. One side of the room was decorated in a nauseatingly cute girly-girl style, with stuffed animals and pictures of kittens, puppies, and unicorns. The other side featured a girl-power motif, with posters of leather-clad biker chicks and female rock stars. It didn’t make any sense that two people would make such an effort to redecorate a space they were temporarily occupying, but comedy won out over logic. At least they didn’t paint the walls two different colors or sew two disjoint bedspread halves together to complete the look. Jenna wondered whether that had been dictated by budget issues or a belated attack of common sense.

They filmed another short scene, in which the “manager” apologetically but firmly stuck to his can’t-do attitude: no, he didn’t have another cabin available, no, nobody else within fifty miles had any vacancies either, no, he didn’t have twin beds to replace the double, no, he couldn’t get them a couch, a cot, or even a sleeping bag. The one thing he could do, apparently, was warn them that it was highly inadvisable to sleep on the floor because of “floor bugs” in the fine crevasses of the hardwood.

Of course, Jenna was the one pressing him to come up with something. Christine, after spending most of the scene watching with a big grin on her face, concluded matters by thanking the manager for “clarifying the situation” and handing him a small wad of bills while Jenna’s back was turned.

It was clearly a bundle of transparent excuses to explain why their characters would continue sharing the cabin as tensions flared between them. The last was a particularly ridiculous rationalization for having them share the bed as well. The “floor bugs” story was absurd, but Jenna had been directed to act as if she believed it completely and found it horrifically creepy.

The real problem was Merry’s insistence that they actually share quarters, whether or not the cameras were rolling, for the sake of verisimilitude. Jenna hoped she didn’t extend that idea to the bed.

The forced exposition and flimsy setup for the thin plot were now complete. It was time to start filming the show the audience wanted to see.

After a brief break for lunch and a costume change, the two women stood by the pool in silk robes. Slowly, they took them off to reveal their bikini-clad bodies.

Jenna was surprised to see that Christine was actually fairly curvaceous—not voluptuous, but certainly much more feminine than her previous butch-leather outfit had suggested. Christine noticed Jenna noticing her, and winked. Jenna turned around and pointedly ignored her.

They spent a while going through various poses designed to present their curves to the cameras. Jenna mostly stuck with classic glamor-girl modeling technique. Christina’s expressions and body language were edgier, projecting the image of a woman who could make you cry with pain or moan with pleasure at her whim.

Finally, the two women headed for the diving tower to being the next scene. Cameras followed their wiggling behinds from below as they ascended, and then captured a few establishing shots of the pair standing on the high platform. After Merry signaled that they were finished with that part, they climbed back down to film the actual scene on the more camera-accessible kiddie diving board just above the water level.

Jenna stood at the end of the board trying to look nervous. The premise for this scene was that she was chickening out and trying to climb back down instead of doing the high dive, but Christine wouldn’t let her.

She felt ridiculous. She often did high dives without the slightest hesitation. It would be humiliating enough to wimp out on the actual twenty-foot platform; doing it on the kiddie board was positively surreal.

She took a step back toward the “ladder”, trying to look just as embarrassed as she felt.

Christine stood between her and the line of retreat, arms folded. “No escape for you,” she declared. “Like it or not, you’re going to have to take the plunge.”

She unwrapped the little towel draped over her shoulders. A stagehand swapped it out for a somewhat larger one of the same color. If Christine had been carrying that one the whole time, it would have obscured the view of her boobs, a much more important consideration than consistent continuity.

She started snapping the towel. “You might as well jump and get it over with. I’ve got a towel and I know how to use it.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I never bluff.”

“What are you gonna do if I don’t—give me the Mark of Zorro?”

Christine stretched the towel between her hands. “Oh, I have a better idea. I know a technique to give you a red spot that looks exactly like a hickey. You get your ass off the end of this board in five seconds, or I’ll give you the Mark of Sappho!“

Weirdly, the first thought that went through Jenna’s head was to wonder what percentage of the audience would have to look that up.

“Four...”

“I’ll jump! Just give me a little more time to get over my nerves!” she pleaded.

Christine wasn’t having any. “Three...”

Jenna backed away, but froze as her feet reached the end of the board.

“Two...”

“C’mon? Just one more minute....”

“One...” Christine brandished the towel and took a step forward. “There may be a slight biting sensation....”

Jenna stepped back and dropped into the pool. She hoped they’d be able to frame the shot to leave out the splash of water that was supposedly twenty feet below, so that the final footage didn’t make her look as stupid as she felt.

Christine was at the side of the pool when she swam to the edge. She reached out a hand to help her climb up. “That’s my brave girl!” The next thing Jenna knew, Christine was planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Very funny, Christine,” she deadpanned. Putting up with these increasingly brazen lesbian come-ons was part of the show, but so was her display of irritation and disinterest. It was a good thing she felt such a strong sense of commitment to this project. Another actress might have walked out if—or, more likely, when—Christine finally pushed her too far. For her, it was out of the question.

A young woman in a bikini slightly more respectable than theirs walked up with a big basket of floating wind-up pool toys. Their next scene was going to be a competition to catch them and score them. Scoring them required placing—not tossing—them into a basket. Each contestant’s basket was positioned at just the right height to require standing on tiptoe, and of course each one was surrounded by cameras optimally positioned to capture the resulting shapely displays.

“The next scene is almost ready to start.” Talking to Christine in a strictly-business context helped take the edge off her exasperation.

“I know. There’s something I want to do first.” Christine waved to catch the attention of the director and a couple of camera operators.

She opened the clasp at the front of her bikini top, and slowly began pulling the cups apart.

“I dare to go bare!” she declared as her nipples came into view.