Holl-y-wood free porn video

"Holl-y-wood" ...Ta-ta-da-ta-da-de-de-da-de-doo! The early 1950's, still in the hey day of the Hollywood studio era. A small group of suits sit in a preview theatre in one of the office and production buildings flanking the rows of stages at this major studio. As the daily's roll a few leather seat cushions creak. As the group looks on a couple lighters click illuminating the faces of the men lighting their cigars. The film, in glorious black and white rolls through the projector gate complete with edit marks, time codes and production slate board notes along with sound cues and the white gaps between clips. There were shots of interiors, exteriors and a review of a few of the locations. The review of certain key scenes was common place as was the review of two dance numbers for this romance comedy. Standard formula fare. The men in attendance took little real notice and it being just after lunch there wasn't much enthusiasm. Finally though, the major bedroom scene begins. As the boudoir comes onscreen a glamorous woman can be seen. She's in a long white satin gown in a large feminine boudoir reclining on a white satin chaise lounge. A man in a tuxedo enters the room and makes his way to the woman. She's platinum blonde, flawless. The men in attendance gather their attention as does the studio head sitting in the center seat. Ted Greyson studies, his head director Lance Rayson sitting directly to his left takes similar rapt attention as the waited for bedroom scene unfolds. Expensive picture, and this was one of the main scenes of interest and also one of the hot dialog points that would pull the whole picture together. The crew had done a great job, as usual. The set dressers, the lighting and camera work was first rate as was the background orchestra score. The man takes a seat on the edge of the chaise lounge, the woman looks at him longingly. The man reaches down and slowly slides the heavy white double satin gown up slightly to expose the five inch heeled, white satin, marabou pump slippers. Another swish of the gown causes the fabric to zip as it slides effortlessly up her long legs, clad in beige, Manhattan heeled seamed nylon stockings that gleam in the light. The woman moves with anticipation towards the man as he continues, she turns to him, her knees together her calves sliding and zipping past one another as we finally see the stocking tops, the welts tightly and elegantly gartered taut to a six strap white garter belt. Most of the men don't take notice but as Lance winces slightly Ted looks on intently, dissatisfied. "Freeze frame that Jimmy!" Ted says after clicking his master button to the projection room. The film clicks to a stop, the nylon clad legs and stiletto heeled slippers freeze on frame. "We're three million into this production, everything is perfect from the camera work to the catering, but, what may I ask is wrong with this picture?" Ted asks turning to Lance. Lance rifles through his work book. "On the screen," Ted says. Lance answers, "She's one of our contract players, this is her eighth film with us, she's very popular. She can dance, sing and of course act," Lance assures. "Why didn't I know about this? You're the director didn't you notice?" Ted retorts. "Save it Jimmy." The projector stops, the room darkens, only to be lit by Ted's console light now. "I think the picture looks fine," Lance adds. "The legs Lance, the legs. The room, the gown, the tuxedo, the actors, all look like a million bucks but those legs! Tooth pick legs with bottle cap knees. Who wants to pay to see that?" Ted resolves. He knows too, he's head of the studio. "Well, I guess we could re-shoot, change angles, use more makeup, maybe some camera filters" Lance whispers a cough with his ideas. "We don't have that much makeup. And shoot her from where, Kansas?" Ted erupts. "No. There's no fixing that," he finishes then sits in thought about what to do with a key leg scene that reveals ugly legs. The whole look of the boudoir scene comes across with all the class of a starched white shirt with a gravy stain and on a big screen that "gravy stain" is the size of a bathtub! "It stands out like a sore thumb, unsatisfactory." He shifts in his seat and under his small lit console he cues the projection room again. "Jimmy!? Run the dance reel. The first scene, the practice reel before the dress rehearsal. A bit of clatter can be heard as Jimmy searches the film cans. Finally, he spools up and the dance reel, first scene hits the screen with the slate marks and sound cue. Ted watches as the six men and six women dancers hit their marks and start dancing. All the dancers are in their practice wear, women in leotards and flutter skirts and the men in t-shirts. All wearing shorts and dance shoes. Ted takes notice as each dancer wheels before the camera. The buck-and-wings, the turns, the struts, the pivots and stops, the high kicks and all. He also takes note of how the women seemed to jiggle. They had larger thighs then the men and he even noticed a trace of cellulite on a couple and all seemed to have that jiggle in their bottoms as they moved away from the camera. Natural evolution of course but Ted seemed to differ with that in reference to his film--this was Hollywood after all. Then he began looking at the six male dancers. He spotted a young man in his early twenties. Five feet nine, one hundred twenty pounds or so, the legs lean and not overly muscular, the thighs tight and slimmer than most of the women and no jiggle! "Who's the guy on the left, dark polo shirt, light brown hair." Lance looks to the screen then over his records under Ted's small table light. "His name is Tim, ahhh Benson, Tim Benson, extra. Done a few bits and pieces here and there, had a year of classical dance in college so we picked him up for the picture. Seems like a good kid, Midwest, honest, shows up for work, you know. Whats the interest?" "Did you notice those legs? Long and willowy, no flab and no jiggle? What about we re-shoot that boudoir scene, just the legs bit, and we'll use him as a body-double," Ted wondered. "We'd have to shave his legs, get him into nylons and heels and that gown," Lance cautioned. "beside the boudoir scene she's only in a long gown for the dances right?" Ted wondered. "She's in a knee length dress at the airport meeting, otherwise it's long outfits and slacks everywhere else," Lance said rifling through his wardrobe notes. "Well, re-shoot the airport bit to. Have her come of the plane in slacks when she meets the guy waiting for her then we won't have to look at her knees. That'll do it," Ted resolved. "Yeah but I don't know..." Lance returned perplexed. "Body doubles get actors pay right. More then extra pay?" Ted reasoned. "They're uncredited usually, but Yeah, sure," Lance added. "Find the kid, give him two days work. He want's to be an actor? Well, here's his chance. Get him signed then send him to wardrobe first thing in the morning. Woman's wardrobe. Set it up." Ted finished with Lance then clicks his switch on his console. "That's all for the day Jimmy. Thanks!" The meeting ends as Lance folds his books and follows Ted out of the room, followed by the other suits. Tim walks from stage five towards stage three with a small box and a folded paper in hand, past the hub-bub of actors in various costumes heading to their shoots and stage workers rolling backdrop scenes and props while others roll lights and camera gear to where they're needed. Tim enters a large stage door that's open, no red light so no shooting. He moves into the darkness past the cords and lights and props and set workings toward a stage that's still lit, it's a 20's bar scene, part of a gangster film in progress. Tim sees his friend Rick dressed in bartender attire moving around behind the bar. Tim back in his civvies takes a chair. He drops the small box on the bar. "You order lunch?" Tim asks in a friendly tone. Rick reaches under the bar and retrieves two bottles of beer, he pops the caps and sets them on the bar. Tim takes a pull from his as Rick opens the white box to reveal two pieces of chicken and a slice of apple pie. "You eat better than us. All we got today was cold craft service," Rick mumbles past the bite of chicken breast that's still a bit warm, he swoons at the good taste. "Better movie, better budget. You have the free beer though," Tim chuckles. He then opens the paper he holds, an order from Director Lance. Rick grabs it. "You picked up two more days?" Rick explodes. "That dance deal really saved us. And now another bit. Good thing because all I have left is one more day here. But this doesn't say what for." "Some pick-ups and extra shoot around stuff, that's all I know," Tim says. "You're to report to wardrobe seven a.m. tomorrow, women's wardrobe?" Rick asks about what seems to be a misprint. "I'll figure it out, either way we can pay next months rent now," Tim assures as he lifts his beer for another gulp. "I'm taking a cab home tonight, then after a dip in the pool I'm taking a nap. Catch you later." "yeah, yeah sure," Rick replies. Seven am. Sharp. Tim enters wardrobe looking for the head costumer. "I don't have an order for any Tim Benson," the man with a short cigar says as he looks over the paper. "Hey, this is a pink sheet, you're scheduled for women's wardrobe," he adds. "That's next stage over" he says with his thumb. "You'll need to find a Mrs. Granger." And with that Tim turns out of the room headed for the other costume shop. Mrs. Granger has Tim on a pedestal in front of a three way floor mirror, she holds a cloth tape. "Shoe size?" "unngh, nine regular I guess," Tim replies as he is turned to-and-fro. "You're going to need some work, a sauna and a good waxing to start. Gotta do something with what little hair you have on your legs, can't have that. And you'll need a pedicure, says here midnight gloss red," She said as she continued moving Tim around and pointing him to yet more costume worker women in attendance. "Hey, what do you mean pedicure and what's wrong with my leg hair?" Tim gasped as he returned. "You're shooting on 'Romance In New York' right? You're scheduled for part of a re-shoot, a pick up. Didn't they go over this with you? We need to get you into costume too. Can you walk in high heels dear?" Ms. Granger asked without batting an eyelid. "I don't know but..." Tim gasped. "Get Mr. Reyson on the phone and have him come down here to explain the situation. I don't have the time." Ms. Greyson said to one of her aids. "A leg model!?" Tim gasped. "Yeah that's it. Mr. Greyson wants to see how you test on a mock-up set. It's just a leg piece, a showoff for the film, a bit of exciting flash, you know," Lance said still looking over his papers. "You'll shoot the pick-ups, we'll edit and everything will be fine. Should be able to shoot it in one day and we'll pay you for two. That's okay right? Just let the ladies do their thing, you head for the set and we'll shoot it, no dialog just a few moves and some camera work. You just supply the look and we'll be done in no time." "But you want me with shaved legs and in a white satin gown!?" Tim said looking over the papers. "Yeah. Nobody'll know, it's just a shoot-over for a leg shot we had that didn't work. A pick-up you know? We'll shoot it, edit it into the film and that's it. No problem. Understand?" Lance added. "Yeah but..." Tim blushed. "The pay is good and more film credit for you. Not a bad deal once you look it over." Lance smiles. "Hey, this is Hollywood right? You just do as you're told and we'll see you on set this afternoon, right." As he leaves Ms, Granger and company move back in. Lance looks over the reconstructed set, not the whole set used in the film, just enough material to manage the close ups. A smaller version of the luxurious white carpet section has been laid down, the white chaise lounge is set in place, the false windows covered with white satin draperies and a white bedroom wall section with bookcase and a small table near the chaise readied to go. The gaffers help arc the lights into place and the camera crew dolly in and swing an angle for the close up shot. An extra wearing the same tuxedo as the man in the original scene waits off to the side shooting his cuffs. Tim, nervous and discombooberated makes his entrance with a woman from woman's wardrobe. Lance sees him and he goes over to explain. Tim wears a floor length bath robe and flat woman's slippers, the woman with him carries a pair of stiletto heeled white satin marabou slippers. Tim flustered to see he is now the subject of attention as he looks around, the lookie-lews are hustled from the set, the doors are shut the red shooting light activated. Tim unties the sash at the front of his robe, he takes it off and hands it to the wardrobe woman. Lance has him take his seat on the chaise lounge then moves him into position to match the position of the original actress. Tim's hair is the same as it was, he wears no makeup but he does have on the white satin gown. From the waist down he has been convincingly feminized. The woman slides off his slippers then fits the white high heeled satin pumps onto his feet. She then swishes the hem of the gown up to reveal Tim's smooth nylon clad legs, complete with the midnight gloss red color added to his fresh pedicure. The white garter straps appear from under the white lace trim of the white satin tap pants. His waist has been tightly cinched into a white satin corset, a matching girdle briefer out of sight under the white tap pants has pulled his male anatomy into what appears to be a woman's vaginal slit. The tap pants gleam in the light as the garters hold the beige stocking welts taut, the light makes everything shine and gleam with the slightest movement. They stage Tim's look to be exact with the existing footage. The lights angle in and the camera frames the tight shot. The camera crew mumbles to each other. "Damn. I never seen legs that nice on many women, and this is a guy?" The focus puller says to the camera man. "It's only a paper moon, and only in Hollywood huh? Lets set the focus and shoot this sucker," the photography director adds after setting his shot and Lance readies for a take. The wardrobe lady pulls the bottom of Tim's white satin gown fully down and fluffs the material to match the original shot from the staff photographer. The extra in the tuxedo moves in. A bell rings twice. Lance starts directing as the assistant sets it up. "Okay, Quiet! Quiet on the set! Pickup extras shot, boudoir scene, take one! The slate claps loudly. Lance stands by the camera. "Wild sound only. Okay, speed... and... Action!" Just like in the original scene now. The man in the tuxedo leans in, we see the hand reach for the woman's knee, he takes the gown gently in hand and slides it up the shapely nylon clad legs as Tim appears to swoon, the knees together at an angle the calves sliding against one another. The white satin slippers shine, the heavy satin gown whistles, the seamed beige nylon garter stockings zip and shine in the light for a moment as the cameras turn until-- "Cut!" Lance yells with satisfaction as he hops off his chair and heads to Tim still on the chaise. Tim nervously swirls the long white gown back down as the wardrobe woman returns and the extra in the tuxedo moves back to the side. It's too intense for Tim's mind to be sitting there with shaved legs, and painted toes and cinched up like a woman and in opera length garter hose. His head spins at the thought of being all dressed like this and on a stage and and surrounded by all the lights and cameras. The crew resets and checks things over as Lance sits on the edge of the chaise lounge. The first shot was simply a camera run through but Lance was pleased. He confers with the wardrobe woman on and the man in the tuxedo on fluffing the long satin gown and then having Tim move his legs in a more feminine manner. The set looks good and matches the original footage so all that is needed is a more glamorous movement from Tim. "Just relax, it's an acting job. We'll shoot another couple of takes, maybe check a couple different angles then shoot a couple safeties and that should do it." Lance says with a smile as he returns to the camera and the the "Quiet on the set!" comes from the assistant and we hear the two ringing bells again. It took a few more takes but Lance finally gets his coverage. Tim was given his "wrap" and sent shuffling away in his long bath robe and floppy flat woman's slippers with the woman from woman's wardrobe as the crew finalizes the paperwork. Lance, satisfied, smiles, issues his final orders. "We didn't shoot much. Print all those passes, send the reel to editing and we'll cut it and get a work print shot. I'll take it to Grayson tomorrow. Just another day in Tinseltown." Two days later, Tim, back in his apartment searches the trades for more film work, he scratches his leg under his pants as he feels the itch from the hair growing back. His toenails are now back to their original color. Rick sits across the table eating some toast, looking for work too. "Well at least I got the rent paid for another month." Tim sighs. "I don't know if this is all worth it though. What do you think?" "I'm not sure yet. You can make a lot of money quick if you're in the right place at the right time but we sure ain't getting picked up for anything regular. Tough business. Even tried to get in to watch your shoot the other day but the set was restricted. You must have done a good job to finish so soon," Rick added. "What was it all about anyway?" "Just another day on the payroll. No big deal," Tim returned with a gasp trying to forget the whole ordeal as he returned to perusing his paper. Back at the studio Lance carries the reel from editing into the projection room. He has Jimmy load it up and he takes his clipboard into the little theatre where Ted Grayson is already waiting. "Roll it when you're ready Jimmy," Ted says as Lance finds his seat. Soon the edited roll of the completed boudoir scene begins. It starts like they'd seen before but then the new edited shots appear. The man in the tuxedo moves to the woman on the chaise lounge, he sits beside her, then we cut to the close up. The white satin gown swishes to reveal the white satin stiletto slippers and the shiny, beige Manhattan heeled opera hose. The legs look long, lean and flawless, the feminine movement on full display. No knobby knees this time. The satin swishes and the nylons zip with each move as they shine in the light teasingly, the tight white tap pants gleam, the lace trim invites. Ted immediately sees the difference. The shot returns to some critical dialog about the romance in New York and finally the man in the tuxedo grabs the woman by her trim waist and pulls her close. They smile romantically then hug. The scene ends and Ted is impressed. "You added a bit of time to that take, but it works, works great! Let me know when you nave the final cut then we'll roll it out for a test audience," he says as he turns to Lance. It was a productive meeting, nobody lost their job. Lance heads off once again, clipboard in hand. The days passed and Ted often thought of his great idea about using a man's longer, more slender legs in that closeup shot. He then remembered those shiny glamorous legs and the white stiletto slippers. How would those legs look in black patent heels, black nylons. How about in a nice dress? Ted tried to bypass the thought but it kept coming back. He activated his intercom. "Jennie. See what you can find on a Tim Benson in our files and bring it in would ya?" Ted asked. "Right away Mr. Greyson," Jennie quickly replies. Ted is soon looking over his job application and his work review. Tim and Rick don't have a phone so Ted has Jennie arrange to send a messenger to his apartment. There are no current openings for film work but Ted has an idea for a "special project." "Oh and Jennie, get a hold of a Mrs. Granger in wardrobe and send her over right away will you?" He jots down a note to give to the personal messenger about the job offer. The man arrives, takes the note and drives over to Tim and Rick's place. It's a bit out of place seeing the luxury limousine pull up in front of Tim's apartment. The man in a suit and tie and hat arrives at Tim's door, he notices the dingy pool in the courtyard filled with kiddy toys and an empty cigarette pack floating in the greenish water and the empty beer cans on the nearby tables and wonders just how much urine is in that pool. Tim opens the door, the driver hands Tim the message. Tim sees it's an official order for work and it's signed by Ted Greyson himself! The driver man in the suit looks unimpressed as he looks around. "looks like you're coming up in the business, you ought to get a phone. Wardrobe department, tomorrow, eight am, sharp. Have a nice day." The guy nods then heads back to his studio limo for his ride back to fancier climes. Tim reads the order "wardrobe department." No picture title, no job assignment and this wasn't any call-sheet he'd ever seen either. He took the assignment because his checks were on time and never bounced, he need another one. Bright and early, eight am, wardrobe. The man looks over Tim's papers same as before, the man chews a short cigar and sees the pink paper, the thumb comes up and motions again. "Women's wardrobe. That's next stage over." "Next stage over," Tim mumbles and shakes his head and moves once again towards the other department. "We'll start with the sauna then the waxing and I'll get you into hair and makeup while we put together an outfit for you. Thank goodness I still have your measurements. Still a size nine shoe?" Mrs. Granger said the minute she saw Tim's paperwork. After all she'd already been at the meeting with Ted Greyson, the orders were clear. "Hey look lady, Mrs. Granger. I've been in Hollywood a couple years now and I've worked for three different studios. This isn't a call sheet, what's going on? Where am I to report to, what time, and for what? There's no directions, do I have pages?? What''s going on!?" Tim gasped his head spinning now at all the activity going on around him. "It all pays the same sweetie," Mrs. Granger assured with a smile. Her only job was to get Tim ready as per the studio head's orders. She was head of the woman's department and had been for a long time, but, when the boss is looking at you specifically for a job you get your ducks in order quick. She quickly hustled Tim into the inner workings of the woman's department! "We're to get you ready and then you'll have to meet with a driver just after lunch, he'll take you to your assignment. There's so much work to do you'll have to get by with a sandwich and coffee though. "A location shoot? Where are we going! What's the picture, what's my part!" Tim said as he was hustled away by several woman as Mrs. Granger shuddered at the amount of work ahead. "Who's that guy who worked with Max Factor last year, he's with us now right? Get him over here and schedule the big corner of the salon. Get hair styling on the phone and tell them we have a rush job, we'll need extensions on this one. And get me costume, that fancy stuff from the late 40's," Mrs. Granger flustered to several other women as she herself moved into the vast department. The Hollywood dream machine was now in full tilt! Tim was now at the center of a whirling dervish! He was given a sauna, covered in hair remover and finished in a too hot bubble bath filled with lilac scented oil. After drying him off he was smooth and pink skin then dusted down with a scented powder. Grasping a pink bath towel he was put into a floor length terrycloth robe and shuffled into the women's floppy slippers. He was then quickly and unceremoniously dumped into a large salon seat in a mirrored area. One of the ladies quickly trimmed his brows thin with shaver she then added wax and after Tim yelped loudly his eyebrows were shaped into high and feminine arches! 'Ouch! What the heck!? What kind of studio is this!? He gasped trying to push the busy salon women away while another was trying to fit him for ladies heels. Being given a job he knew nothing about and then having to go to an unknown location, and he knew nothing about the job, and he had no direction, no papers, no acting comments. Suddenly, Mrs. Granger reappeared and looked him over as he squirmed in the large seat. "This came for you, from the front office," she said handing him a manila envelope then waited for him to open it. "Finally!" Tim gasped as he grabbed it and opened the envelope and reached inside. Nothing was there except a pay sheet and a studio pay check in the amount of $1,000 dollars signed by Mr. Theodore Greyson! "Looks like some sort of consultant pay. Not bad for a day's work," Mrs. Granger surmised. Tim's hair was washed and combed out and then the stylist began gluing on similar light brown hair to greatly lengthen Tim's natural hair. He choked a dry swallow to see the rows of curlers on the table and the large dryer on wheels over to the side as the attendant began to comb him out. Lingerie carts were wheeled in as were racks of wardrobe, dresses, coats, hats, gloves and the like. Mrs. Greyson started making the specific selections she'd been informed about during her previous meeting. In another couple of hours if all went well Tim would be on his way in a limousine to his appointed destination, and the job, her job would be done. A couple hours later the older man next door who ran the men's wardrobe stood outside looking over the color of several suits on a rack with some helpers to pick the right color in natural sunlight. He chewed his short cigar then heard some women's voices then the unmistakable click, the staccato click of high heels. He turned towards the main sliding door of women's costume to see a limo already waiting, the driver in suit and hat, the same driver who'd been the messenger for Tim's message waiting, holding the back door of the long black car open. The man noticed the woman mincing, wiggling on the heels, slightly taller than average, dressed in a classic woman's skirt suit, and in high black patent stiletto heels and seamed nylon stockings. Her hair was flawless, a hat was pinned to her head and an abbreviated net veil that swept slightly from the top added to the mystique. She clutched a brown mink stole over her shoulders with a white gloved hand as she held her purse in the other. Being fully glamorized like only Hollywood can do she looked stunning and had the attention of every man in the vicinity. She moved a bit clumsily though, and even stumbled in an unladylike fashion in getting into the back of the car. And then it dawned on the man. That was the kid! Tim, who'd stopped by earlier, he'd sent him to wardrobe, women's wardrobe! He watched the driver close the back door of the limo then get in and drive away as several of the wardrobe women watched then turned to go back to work. The short cigar fell to the street as the older man gasped. Only in Hollywood. Just another day as the man stubbed out the fallen cigar and he continued looking through the suits in the sunlight making his decisions. He did continue to wonder but realized that it wasn't any of his concern as the long black limo rolled away. The back of the limo was opulent, and quiet, there was a small bar situated to the side, a radio and an intercom was also visible. The seats were soft leather and spongy like a large sofa and the carpet was a burgundy pile smooth and about a half inch thick. There was a clear glass separating Tim from the driver's compartment. Tim could hear his nylons zipping as he moved in his seat and slid off the expensive mink stole, the slippery nylon lining also zipping as he let it slide off his shoulders. This was Los Angeles where it basically never gets cold, this mink was purely for show. His now hairless skin still tingled from his going over, he could feel his foundation garments and being cinched tight, he could smell the hairspray and the powder floating in the air and he could taste the lipstick he was now wearing! But this was Hollywood, sure was! He noticed the true size of the studio as they rolled past it, all those sound stages in a mid-beige paint with the trimmed palm trees and shrubs lined up at attention in long manicured rows and the fountains spurting water and then the high beige walls that contained the kingdom. And then the traffic in the streets, and then just before they turned off the busy street he noticed clear as day the "Hollywood" sign right there on the distant hill. It got quieter now, more trees, less traffic and better asphalt. He was about to ask the driver but since he couldn't lower the window nor run the intercom he'd just have to wait. Finally, the car turned into a gated drive. It took another minute to make it to the front of the house, where another brimming fountain stood at the center of the concrete drive burbling away. The driver pulled up, stopped the car then opened the back door. Tim felt the cool air as he gathered his mink stole. "I don't see any lights or cameras, there's nobody here. What's going on? Look, maybe you should just take me back huh?" Tim gasped as he choked a dry swallow. "This is the personal estate of Mr. Theodore Grayson," the driver said. Tim remembered the name on the check, the check and envelope now in the purse he was holding with the black patent straps now over his right forearm. "Mr. Greyson has taken the afternoon off. He decided it would be easier to meet you here. And a bit more private," the driver added. "Meet me for what!" Tim gasped. "You're scheduled for a meeting with Mr. Greyson. It could be a part, a position or a deal of some kind, I don't have any idea. Let's just say that as his driver I can only count on one hand how many people have ever visited here for business. My advice? Might be worth looking into." "You sure?" Tim asked as he choked a dry swallow. "Lets' just say that at this level, chances like this don't come long very often," the driver finished. He grasped Tim's gloved hand and helped him out of the car like a woman. Tim wobbled slightly on the high stiletto heels then found himself standing about thirty feet from the front door as the driver drove away, dissappearing out the front gate that quickly closed behind him. Well, a thousand bucks, for a meeting? Tim still couldn't wrap his mind around the situation. However he was more than glad that he wasn't lurching about the studio in this get up. He straightened up, grasped his mink stole and minced to the front door, the heels clicking, the nylon stockings zipping against the slips and the rayon lining of the dress. He gathered the large round door knocker and clapped it three times then waited. A pleasant grey haired butler in a suit and vest opened the door. "I...I guess I have a meeting with a Mr. Greyson?" Tim stammered still clutching the stole. "Very good," the butler said with a smile as he swung the door to the house open. Tim entered, the butler closed the door. "Mr. Greyson is upstairs changing at the moment. I'll direct you to the study. Please follow me," he said. Tim followed the man through the huge house, with his high heels clicking like a metronome through the tiled foyer and past the large curved staircase. They then entered a carpeted area then through a set of double doors the butler opened, a large living room came into view. It was everything Tim had ever heard of, or even seen in the fancy magazines. He continued to follow the butler across the room to another large door which was opened to reveal a lavish man's home office and library. The butler didn't really enter but stood by the door then added "Please make yourself comfortable. Mr. Greyson will be down shortly." And just like that Tim was alone again! The house was huge, like it had been part of an entire golf course at one time as immaculate as the grounds were. The place was walled and gated, trees fifty to sixty feet high lined the entire property while various bushes and shrubs doted the landscaped property and included several prominent well trimmed palm trees who's leaves wafted lazily in the Southern California sunshine. The entire yard looked like a golf green, and past the large French doors and windows was the huge pool complete with diving board and a whirlpool spa complete with sunning area, tables and a complete patio. No empty cigarette packs or kids toys in this inviting, tranquil pale blue water, and no gum on the sidewalk either. The burled wood of the study was darker than the brightly lit living room, a man's enclave. The shelves held rows of books most done up in real leather, rows of produced scripts also bound in leather were suitably bound and placed behind the large desk. This place was an oasis for the well-to-do, no doubt. No pesky neighbors or kids running around without supervision, no cooking smells from someone burning a meal somewhere, no blaring radios, no garbage bins in site. This place was on a level that Tim had never experienced. His thoughts returned to what he was wearing. Totally dolled up like a Hollywood starlet his stomach tightened as quickly as his mind swirled. Then the large dark wood door to the study suddenly opened and Ted Greyson entered. He spotted Tim right away and approached with a hand shake and a satisfied smile! "Tim, isn't it, Tim Benson?" he asked. "Yeah. Yes, yes sir," Tim returned still unsure what was going on. Ted moved to a wet bar and poured a whiskey then added some ice. "How about a drink?" "Sure! Maybe a beer, if you got one handy," Tim replied. Ted smiled and found a frosty bottle in a small refrigerator under the bar. He popped the top and brought it over with a napkin. Tim took a sip and then a quick gulp not knowing he was so dry. "I gotta tell you. That shoot you did the other day, the pickups with Lance Reyson?" Ted started. Tim nodded. "I saw the first rush edit. Fantastic! Totally saved the scene. Our actress is great of course, competent, but aside from that Marilyn Monroe face of hers and those errant shaving nicks, her legs aren't much to look at. She's got knobby knees and there's no cure for bobby knees. But the audience loves her so what do you do," Ted finished as he walked Tim past the wide bank of windows near the French doors before turning back to take a seat behind his huge desk. "You seem to handle those heels pretty well. Go ahead and set your stole on the couch, and unbutton your suit coat. I'm sure it's too warm for all that. I just wanted to see the full look," he said as Tim set his beer on the napkin then on an end table then began to set the things aside. He had a bit of trouble taking the hat pins off but soon managed to remove the hat with the tiny attached veil and set that aside too. Ted motioned for Tim to take a seat at one of the two large chairs facing the large desk. Tim moved to the seat in front of the desk. The bow tie blouse was done in shiny chocolate brown satin, long sleeved, with four satin buttons at each of the wide cuffs. The waist was nipped in full Dior fashion, a dark grayish weaved skirt lined in black rayon buttoned at the waist designed in step-away fashion. The heels were black patent leather with narrow five inch stiletto heels, the stockings were smooth beige with seams that went down to the fully fashioned, outlined Manhattan heel. Tim minced over, took his seat and after crossing his legs with a nylon zip he smoothed his skirt tightly down, a bit nervously. The smooth rayon lining of the skirt hissed slightly. Ted noticed the perfume in the air, and, he also liked what he had seen! "Not that many men can look that good in a dress. You're in shape, dancing keeps you lean and the weight off. You know those guys with the weights and the suntans down at the beach with all those muscles never understand. I've seen a man, dancer, move on stage then lift a one- hundred-twenty pound woman up and over his head and give her a spin with one arm. That's as impressive as the guys handling those weights," Ted mused. "Hey, ungh, look Mr. Greyson. I'm not really sure why I'm here. Don't get me wrong, I love this visit and my treatment and of course that check. But, is this a test for a role in a movie or something or am I just modeling here?" Tim asked putting a point to the conversation. "To the point. I can do that too," he said as he reached into his desk and pulled out a folder. He opened it to reveal several papers and a couple pictures, one was of Tim on a stage in a dress and heels and nylons. Of course there were other men dressed up too, a bit like the old Harvard "Hasty Pudding" review. But Tim was a stand out. He slid the picture over to Tim. "That was college, a play during one of my acting classes," he returned. "You had a couple roommates, and one day when you were packing up for Christmas break somebody noticed a stash of women's things, not much really, some hose, a bit of lingerie, a dress and wig and a pair of high heels that for some reason were in your size." Ted dropped the information not for malice but simply as matter of fact. "Nobody knows. And that was some time ago now. Most of your friends have moved off and are onto other things. They mostly laughed when you decided to come out here too didn't they? So I'd suspect that you didn't have a lot of friends in school." Ted paused as Tim's angered memories started coming back. "Those fuckers! That was part of a Halloween get-up and a couple of them spread it around. They laughed and I took it for months afterwards. And when I decided to come out here they all laughed again," Tim simmered angrily. "Why don't we cut to the chase. I saw your rushes on the latest edit of "Romance In New York" and I liked it. I wanted to see more. I didn't invite you out here to hurt you or cause you any problems or to fire you. I just thought we could have an interesting afternoon that's all," Ted insisted. "What about the money?" Tim asked. "It''s all yours. Payment for an afternoons work. We'll call it a 'wardrobe study' if you like. Perfectly legal and above board," Ted said. "And since that's the case, how about standing up for me, in front of the couch over there where there's some room." Tim felt his head spin slightly but he got up and moved to the center of the room. Ted looked on. He noticed the seams of the nylons and heard the zip as Tim minced and noticed the sheen of the blouse and the jiggle of the large breast forms that Mrs. Granger had so kindly added, as well as the waist cinched for that Dior look and the hip pads to round things out. Tim was a Hollywood marvel now. Ted came around the desk. With the door to the study closed nobody would bother them and as quiet as the place was there seemed to be nobody else around. Ted looked Tim over then he reached to Tim's waist and undid the large and sturdy black button that held the skirt to the waist. It swished and then came away with a loud rayon zip leaving Tim standing in a white, lace trimmed nylon half slip! "Step out of the slip too would you please. Then we can get a better look at those legs huh?" Ted said as he looked Tim over like a starlet actress trying for a part. Another swish and the half slip came away. Ted set it on top of the skirt that was on the couch along with the suit coat and mink stole. "There we go," Ted swooned as he returned and marveled at the look. "don't worry, we're the only ones here, and the butler, well, he won't bother us," Ted assured. And for the next several moments he took it all in, just like the scene on the big screen only now this was live! He had Tim lift the hem of the chocolate satin blouse and the underlying white lace trimmed nylon camisole up to the small part of his cinched waist and hold it there. He had Tim turn to-and-fro in the room light, the bright sunlight coming in from the side windows gleaming off the nylon stockings and lingerie as Tim turned side to side. "Okay, give me one of those model-starlet poses. Smile, chest out." Tim leaned back and struck the best model's pose he could. Chest out, back arched and hands on hips like the woman dancers he'd seen at work he turned once again, side to side. His perfume hung in the air, the nylon fabric sipped and whistled lightly as the bright sunlight gleamed off the stainless steel garter clips, the white lace at the bottom of the tap pants crisp and fully visible, the white satin tap panties pulled and smoothed fully tight. Tim tucked and girdled now, the crotch of the white tap pants now resembling a woman's tight "V" shaped camel-toe slit! The long opera Manhattan heeled stockings pulled taught at the welts to the tight white garters kept the fabric totally smooth as the light gleamed from them as Tim turned back on forth while he teetered on the black patent leather heels. That was it! And then he had Tim walk, doing a mincing walk he seemed to fully take to the heels. After having him shorten his stride Ted began to notice the classic woman's wiggle in the walk. "Go ahead, over to the windows then turn and come back would you please?" He said as if it was all business he'd done before and Tim was sure Ted knew a bit about everything that went on at the studio. After all he was the head of the studio. Yeah, there was no cellulite here, no jiggle just lean, long trim and very shapely legs. The nylons shined and their zip echoed through the room. The tap pants continued to shine too, the tight under girdle forming Tims' bottom into the classic woman's teardrop shape. There was no doubt, Tim had possibilities, but Ted noticed Tim was getting uncomfortable. "Go ahead and get dressed again. I'll freshen the drinks then show you around the place," Ted said with a smile. A few minutes later Tim was sipping another beer while surveying he spacious living room.