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Even celebrities used bathrooms. As hard as it was to imagine it was true. They were people just like anybody else. They got hot, they got tired, they performed bodily functions. Sooner or later the toilets would be used. They were clean, impeccably so, white floors shining , polished mirrors reflecting. There were three cubicles, two open, one closed. Inside the closed cubicle sat Helen Hunt, or the woman who used to be Helen Hunt. Or perhaps she was more Helen Hunt than ever. She'd changed. Not totally, almost imperceptibly in fact but she'd changed.
The darkest parts of her mind had been unleashed. Passions burned like hellfire within her, waiting to consume. She sat in silence, thinking, plotting, dreaming. The door opened then closed. Shoes stepped over the white tiled floor. A soft step, but a confident one. Helen closed her eyes and felt her mind wander. They snapped open again.
It was her. She was washing her face.
Helen stood, flushed the toilet to make it look like she'd not been waiting, and stepped over to a basin, washing her hands. She was calm, nonchalant. The woman beside her looked over and did a double take, red bob of hair bouncing like a spring, blue eyes staring in surprise.
"Helen Hunt?" the red head asked thought the question was pretty pointless.
"Gillian Anderson." Helen smiled coyly back at her fellow celebrity.
"What." Gillian ignored her wet hands for a second. "What are you doing here?"
"Well it's a toilet Gillian. What do you think?" Helen wasn't being bitchy just funny. Gillian could tell that but it still didn't explain anything.
"I mean why here in the studio?"
"Oh just wandering. Might be shooting a film here some time."
"Another Oscar winner?"
"Hopefully."
"Well," Gillian dried her face. "I have to go. It's a quarter hour break and I feel like food."
"No you don't." Helen smiled coyly.
"What?" Gillian looked back at the blonde.
"You're not hungry."
"I.. what?" Gillian felt doubt creeping into her mind. Was she hungry?
"You're full." Helen gazed intently at her.
"I..."
"You're full."
"Yeah. I am full. But I still have to go." she turned her back on Helen.
"No you don't!" Helens voice was still soft but somehow it made her stop and turn back.
"Stay here Gillian. Listen to me. Listen to my voice." Helen smooth voice washed over Gillian. She didn't know why but the actress was capturing her undivided attention.
"What are you doing tonight Gillian?"
"Nothing really. Why?"
"Come over to my place for dinner."
"I don't really think..."
"Come to dinner Gillian."
Gillians mouth drooped for a second as she gasped involuntarily.
"I.. I.."
"I'll see you at eight." Helen slipped a card into the top of Gillians suit, just deep enough to touch her bra.
"Eight it is." Gillian shook her head, slipping out of the bathroom with the feeling she'd been conned. As she left another woman walked in, fairly plain looking, wearing a technical tee-shirt.
"Hey! You're Helen Hunt."
"Yes." Helen smiled. "Sit down."
"What?"
"Sit Down!"
The girl felt like a hammer had hit her and she staggered into a cubicle, sitting on the already down seat. Helen entered and closed the door behind her, sitting on the girls lap and cupping her hands over her breasts. she watched the blonde star, feeling her chest massaged unable to move or think rationally. Helen kissed her. Then she was lost.
"Is that all Miss Hunt?" the cook asked, setting the table.
"Yes that will do Jackie."
"I can go home then?"
"Yes. Go home and masturbate."
"I beg your pardon?" she was clearly offended.
"You heard me. Go home and masturbate."
"Miss Hunt I never do such things."
"Go. Home. And Wank!" Helen commanded watching the cook quiver in shock.
"Yes Miss Hunt." shaking slightly she walked out of the door.
Gillian arrived ten minutes later. She was wearing a simple grey sweat shirt and track pants as well as sunglasses and a cap. Obvious media dodging outfit. It seemed to have worked too.
Helen herself wore a light blue silk blouse, tight enough to show that she had no bra on underneath. Her tight track pants suited the outfit too.
"Hungry Gillian?"
"Yes actually. I feel like a haven't eaten since this morning. I didn't feel at all hungry at lunch though."
Helen giggled slightly. Gillian guessed it was a private joke.
Dinner went well. The women talked about T.V, stars and Hollywood. The disadvantages of being a celebrity, the advantages of dating super hunks. Afterwards Gillian sat on the couch and turned on the massive T.V. She felt good. Somehow it was easy to unwind around Helen, to get away from the celebrity curse of stress. Even just sitting was good. It was a sitcom, one of the numerous that polluted the channels now.
"Now that Seinfelds gone," Helen sat on the couch, "I think that Mad about you and Friends are the only original sitcoms around."
"Probably." Gillian laughed.
Gillian jerked nervously as a buzzer went off behind her.
"Relax Gill. It's just the dish washer starting."
Gillian relaxed slightly.
"Here. Sit in front of me."
"What?"
"Just do it."
Gillian, now in just a black tee-shirt and track pants ( as a stroke of irony it was an X-files shirt), sat in front of Helen and felt the confident fingers rubbing into her shoulders. Almost immediately she felt her tension being rubbed away. Helen slowly massaged her neck and shoulders, relaxing her deeper and deeper.
"Shall I put on a relaxation program?"
Gillian nodded silently, feeling to mushy to argue.
Helen clicked the remote and the screen changed from an office to a constantly changing spiral of light. Gillians eyes went wider, trying to focus on the transforming shape.
"Just watch the screen Gillian. Watch the screen. Relax. Relax."
Helen could feel the red heads breath slowing, her pulse dropping. She was slowly melting into the screen.
"Shall we use my massage table Gill?"
When there was no reply Helen pulled out a table in the middle of the room and helped the dazed star over to it. Gillian sat on it, glazed eyes looking into Helens. Softly Helen slipped her hands around Gillians waist, hooking her fingers under the tee-shirt and then lifting it to reveal a black cup bra. Helen dropped the shirt to the floor and then unclasped the bra, lifting it off carefully and exposing Gillians pale breasts. They were firm, well formed, pink nipples the only bumps on a smooth surface. Helen helped Gillian lie on the bed, free bosom to the table, face supported to face the massive screen, now all encompassing to her vision. Helen returned to massaging Gillians back, slipping a set of headphones over the redheads ears.
"Just relax Gill." Helens voice came through the phones even more seductive, backed by soothing musical whirls.
Gillian was certainly relaxed. Her eyes were wide, face expressionless, mouth drooping open. She was drooling slightly. Helen smiled. Her change had come in many ways. There was the subtle, telepathic control the subliminal voice commands, the hypnotic gaze and the fascinating ability with machines. All her fantasies had manifested themselves disregarding all practical knowledge. She, Helen Hunt was massaging a half naked Gillian Anderson, in her living room while she visually and aurally brainwashed her. She smiled. Already she could feel her desire rising.
"Roll over Gill." Helen commanded softly.
Gillian shuffled dreamily, turning onto her back as if she was half asleep which essentially she was. Helen lifted herself onto the table, straddling the lying womans hips. Gillians glazed eyes looked up at the blonde, past the breasts pressing through the blouse, past the hair on her shoulder. Up to the eyes. The piercing eyes. Eyes which Gillian felt herself slipping into deeper than the spiralling screen. These eyes had soul, a soul which was entwining her own.
Helen reached out her palms and slowly rubbed Gillians abdomen, sliding her fingers up, slipping between her cleavage and digging into her shoulders before sliding down the sides of her ribs. She kept rubbing, watching Gillian relax more and more as she did so, gazing deeply into the helpless stars eyes. Slowly Helen shifted her hands, tracing the inside and outside of the soft breasts. Then her fingers started to run over it, tracing around the pink nipples which soon came to life with her attentions.
Helen slowed then stopped, unbuttoning her own blouse slowly, making sure that Gillian watched every little motion. Gradually her cleavage was exposed then her nipples, standing erect, then finally her entire impressive bosom. She dropped the blouse to the floor casually at returned to massaging the red heads breasts.
"Look at my tits Gill. Look at them."
Gillians eyes shifted to the organs which swayed back and forth, bouncing slightly as Helen moved back and forth, rocking on Gillian as she felt her. Helen smiled to herself. A swinging watch or pendant was okay, a screen was even better but there was nothing more hypnotic than a good pair of tits. There was little doubt that hers fitted firmly (quite firmly) into this category.
"Keep looking at them Gill. Keep looking. Aren't they lovely?
Aren't they beautiful. Back and forth, back and forth. Lovely tits, lovely tits. Say it with me Gill."
"Lovely tits." Gillian spoke mindlessly. "Lovely tits."
"Yes Gillian. Lovely tits."
Helen droned on and on, the transfixed woman chanting with her, eye fixed firmly on the swaying subjects of her speech. Helen could feel Gillians breasts responding to her touch too. They were swelling, nipples rising up to meet the magical fingers which touched them. Helen had no doubt that the rest of Gillians body would be responding in kind. She casually slipped her hand past the waist of Gillians track pant and pulled her hand out damp. Her lovely tits were certainly having the desired effect.
Helen gently slipped Gillians pants down and dropped them to the floor, following them with her own. Helen was wearing white panties and Gillian was wearing black. Helen pulled Gillian up into a kneel, the table large enough for both of them to sit so. Gillian offered no resistance though the head phones were pulled of as she rose. Moving her like a doll Helen hugged Gillian tight, resting Gillians left leg between Helens and her right leg on the outside.
She wrapped one arm around Gillians back, pressing their bosoms together and bringing their faces within inches. If there had been any resistance in Gillian before it was gone now, Helens hypnotic gaze too close to ignore. Helens free hand moved to Gillians butt, pulling and forcing Gillian to rub up Helens leg. Then Helen relaxed, then pulled again, forcing Gillians crotch to grind against her thigh. Helen knew she was doing it right, Gillian letting out a moan of contentment. Helen pulled harder and faster, rubbing her helpless partner back and forth. The four breasts and nipples, so closely packed jostled and bounced against each other, sweat beginning to form. Helens lips pursed, now and then planting soft kisses on the panting mouth of the red head. Despite her initial inertia Gillian was starting to move too, grinding her hips back and forth in time with the motion. Helen slipped her hand under the panties, finger caressing the smooth flesh of Gillians butt. Faster and faster they moved, each pulse bringing Gillian closer to climax. Helen dug deep into the unprotected mind of her prey, cutting of the release that was coming. Gillian would not climax, no matter how hard and fast she rubbed herself, until Helen made her. Gillian was wild with desire now, with the need for release. Her arms were tight around Helen crushing their torsos together. Her frantic motions almost tore the soaked black panties off as they blurred back and forth. Sweat streamed from both of the, dripping down the table, pooling here their bodies were most tightly pressed. Gillian tried kissing Helen and found lips eager to respond. There was no hint of her fighting it, she was lost to the pleasure entirely.
Finally Helen let her come.
Gillian shook and screamed aloud. Had Helen not been holding her so tight she would have tumbled off the table in a quivering mass of ecstasy. Helen felt fingernails dig into her back, the electric pulse of the climax as it blasted through the red head. She heard the ragged gasps for air, felt the warm exhalations on her wet blonde hair. She watched the beads of sweat shake their way down Gillians wet face, running over the pursed and trembling lips. From their closely held bosoms she felt Gillians heart beating wildly, trying to pump enough blood to keep up with the pleasure of it all. It went on and on, well past it's naturally cycle, Helen stretching it within Gillians mind.
Finally, inevitably it ended.Gillian collapsed in exhaustion her head drooping over Helens shoulder. Helen kept hugging her, running her hand through the wet red curls, whispering gentle words into her ear the way a mother might to a tired baby. Gillian was like a baby after all, helpless and new to this. Helen smiled inwardly. She would give Gillian care like no other could.
They kept going for hours, on the table in bed in the hot tub. Helen was perfect, working Gillian in exactly the way she wanted it. Orgasm after orgasm washed over the red head and always the blonde was there to soak in the joy of it. There were differences between them however. Gillian was never in control, only Helen. If Gillian ever tried to dominate, to touch Helen too much, then she would clamp down mental control, forcing Gillian away, enforcing her own attentions on the helpless actress. Helen was indefatigable. She panted and sweated and groaned in delight but she never became tired. Her mind was in full control, her fantasies a reality. She never tired, no matter how long they went.
Gillian was not. She was exhausted. She was exhausted long before Helen stopped attending her. She rubbed at Gillians breasts and thighs even while the actress lay panting on the soaked sheets, too tired to move. Helen didn't mind. I just meant she was to tired to fight the orgasms. Gillians howls of delight became softer and softer moans, finally little more than pleasured whispers. Other than her laboured breathing, rapid pulse and regular climaxes Gillian was motionless. It was Helen that moved, doing what she'd only dreamed, using part of her body for things never intended.
Helens nipples was rock hard, so was Gillians clitoris. Their meeting seemed logical in the fit of passion, even if Helen really had to hug tight. It had to end. Time didn't last forever, even Helen couldn't change that. Gillian had to forget the night. Helen could probably keep her as a slave but that wouldn't be fair. If she ever wanted another night of passion she'd be able to get it easily. Breaking Gillian a second time would be a cinch. So it was better to make her forget, to replace the evenings wild delight with a calmer massage then falling asleep. Her body would bear no real signs of their passions, Helen had been careful of that.
Gillian lay on her back, splayed out on the bed, sweat still on her body, covering her rising and falling bosom, her slick thighs. Helen put on the Cones. Her fantasy had been a physical possibility in a world where her fantasies had been given reality. They held practical purposes too. Helen slipped the silvery helmet over Gillian wet brow, strapping it tight. The other pair of cones sucked onto her breasts, accommodating them perfectly.
"Enjoy the Cones Gillian." Helen whispered into her ear.
She clicked on her laptop screen. The icon labelled 'erase'.
Gillian began to tremble.
It wasn't pain. Far from it. It felt good. But it felt like it was violating her. Her breasts, her mind. Sucking at her. At her tits? At her will. Will she what? She was slipping. The light. So pretty. It felt so good. She liked the sucking. It felt nice, it tickled her mind. Gillian wanted the sucking. She wanted it to suck more and more. But it didn't. It only took what it wanted. What they wanted. The light. So nice. So soft. Like a marshmallow orgasm. Swallowing up. Sucking in deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper, deeper........
Gillian blinked and rolled over. Gradually she came too. She was on a couch. In a living room. Wearing her tee shirt and underpants. She remembered...
"You fell asleep during the massage. I thought I'd let you sleep it off." Helen smiled from the kitchen where breakfast was cooking.
"Er.. okay.."
"Hungry?"
"I don't know."
"Hungry!"
"Yeah." Gillian shook a soft fuzz from her head. She pulled her track pants off the floor and put them on.
"Sorry about the pants. I know what it's like to sleep in those things so I took them off for you."
"I.. thanks.." Gillian sat down at the table to pancakes and maples syrup all cooked exactly the way she liked them.
"When do you have to be in at the studios?" Helen asked as she ate her food.
"Eight o'clock."
"I can give you a lift in if you want."
"You're heading in there?"
"Oh yeah." Helen smiled half to Gillian, half to herself.
"You never know when you might bang someone famous."
"You mean bang into someone." Gillian corrected her.
"Of course." Helen smiled. "Of course."
THE END??
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