CHAPTER 1
Louise felt on top of the world, and
looked it. She wore a tight low cut,
little black dress, to emphasise and show off her gorgeous 36-24-36 figure. Ash
blonde hair framed her doll-like face and fell to caress her smooth bare
shoulders. She and the other actresses
starring in the forthcoming film had all been asked to dress in tune with the
1940s so that any publicity shots taken during the pre-filming meal would
reflect the period. OK, so her dress
might have been a little short for that era but still passable – and it did
show off her endless toned thighs to best advantage. Her underwear, a tiny red bra and pants set,
was also definitely not quite from the 1940s – a girl must have her home
comforts - and who tonight would ever know or see, she decided. As a concession, however, she was unusually
wearing seamed dark silk stockings and suspender belt.
Now, though, she was enjoying cuddling
up to her handsome husband, Henry, on the hotel dance-floor. They were enjoying their last night of luxury
before he flew home and the filming and necessary privations began on this
Pacific Island. It made her flush a bit
as they danced to feel his strong hands holding the flexing cheeks of her
bottom over the sleek dress, his favourite grope, but many in the room were
just stage technicians and extras. Why
not let them drool a bit over their star, she thought.
Dreamily she lifted her lips to
receive his kiss, pressing herself a bit tighter against him, grinding her hips
slightly and pushing her boobs against him a little. She shivered as she felt his desire pressing
against her belly, teasingly easing herself just a little bit tighter against
him as she opened her mouth over his. It would give those in the room a bit of
a thrill as they watched her, a famous personality and soon to be famous star,
getting loved and touched up. Maybe pictures would find their way into
magazines – that could only help the film and her career. And that would be
good, especially as she had previously been a bit haughty and ‘leading-lady-ish’ she accepted, with some of the extras and staff. And as gossip travelled, that wasn’t
good. She was determined not to let her
nerves get to her as they settled into the hotel to get used to the hot sun on
this island. It was the pressure of the forthcoming film to be shot here on the
island, with so much at stake for her career. Normally she was by nature rather
sweet and demure.
Mind you, she thought with an inner
grin, she hadn’t been so sweet and demure an hour or so previously in her hotel
room with Henry – thank goodness her fans hadn’t seen her then. On leaving the
bath she had returned to the bedroom to find Henry dozing on the bed. It may have been the cocktail she had sipped
in the bath but crazy thoughts had darted through her. Loosening her robe, she padded over to her
husband and gently eased her soft pink body full length onto him, kissing the
slight stubble on his cheek, her robe hanging down like a flap over them both.
He had stirred, a smile creasing his
handsome face and his erection rising to meet her as she ground the warmth of
her loins against him. She loved it when he kissed and sucked her nipples,
making them tingle deliciously and she pressed them harder against his lips as
his hands squeezed her bottom. Her lips and fingers had been busy on his broad
chest. He had suddenly grown so
hard. His hand impatiently flicked back
her robe and with a sly feminine wiggle and lift she had allowed him to brush
it from their hot and eager bodies. With another feminine wiggle she had arched
and lifted her hips to impale him deep within her waiting warmth, filling her
so wonderfully.
Her sensuous lips had closed over his
mouth, her tongue darting with his; oh it had been so good; she wanted to savour
his masculine essence. But she felt him
quicken and throb inside her, his pace increasing. His hands tightened on her bottom just as
hers gripped the rippling hardness of his, holding his buttocks which always
reminded her of two huge hard boiled eggs.
Arching her hips wantonly, she pulled him deliciously deeper into her as
he drove and pumped. Within a minute it had all been over such was their
impromptu lust as they panted and strained together, hips jerking wildly. Afterwards she had to return to the large
bath and Henry joined her as they sensuously soaked together, giving them a
nice appetite for the meal tonight.
No, it was as well that people could
now only see the glamorous yet demure Louise as they sipped wine before taking
their seats at the large table. It was just that she was keen for everything to
go right. At twenty seven, her career in
a girl band was past, and although her modelling jobs and celebrity interviews
gave her fame, she really needed to make it further into films to ensure her
proper lifestyle and status. She had a really good feeling about this film,
which should put her previous supporting roles in the shade. It was a work of pure fiction, set near the
end of the World War 2. In it the
Japanese intelligence knew about the impending dropping of more Atom bombs and,
using commandos and secret agents, took a group of Western women as
hostages. They would endure the rigours
of a harsh discipline in a secret camp and be forced to plead for their lives
to the newsreels, their fate being linked to whether the bomb was dropped.
Then, naturally the American marines storm in to rescue them before anyone is
killed.
She shivered a little in Henry’s arms
at the thought of the tough time ahead of her with filming. When reading the script properly and fully
whilst on her lounger in the hotel this last week she guessed that it wouldn’t
be easy doing some of the shots. Yet it
was a real opportunity for her. She still found it difficult to believe that
the famous Japanese director, Santana, had wanted her for the lead role. OK she had sometimes felt a bit in awe of him
during the screen tests but she had slowly come to admire and respect him as a
person rather than just a powerful icon.
There would apparently be plenty of nudity and violence – but what else
sold films? She trusted Santana’s
judgement and anyway, she shrugged, she had insisted on using body doubles for
many such scenes.
***
Bang,bang, bang!
Louise jumped in Henry’s arms,
screaming and going rigid as the first shots rang out in the hotel lobby, the
abrupt and frightening noise shaking and tinkling lampshades. She saw figures dressed in green fatigues and
carrying guns surging through the foyer towards them. They looked like soldiers and, using her
scant knowledge from reading the script, they seemed to be in the uniform of
Japanese World War Two soldiers. Her heart was racing but she guessed it was
some kind of publicity stunt for the film.
Having convinced herself that was what it was about she relaxed a little
but she would still have a go at the public relations people for not letting
her know – she was after all the star. The ‘soldiers’ approached, pushing
people aside. It was very realistic and
she was unable to prevent herself shivering in dread as her husband’s arms
tightened protectively about her.
“Well done guys, that looks like a
good stunt,” one of the extras, himself a stuntmen, a muscled lad with cropped
brown hair, confirmed Louise’s belief of it being staged as he turned to the
armed uniformed men. “But maybe you shouldn’t be shooting real guns in here;
someone could get hurt.”
“Like you, f--ker,”
one of the burly men turned to him, swinging his gun round.
Bang! Bang!
“You- you’ve... shot... me...” the
voice of the extra trailed off weakly as he watched with wide unbelieving eyes
the blood dripping from his mouth whilst he clutched the spreading red stain
over his chest. Slowly he sank to his knees and rolled over amidst the screams
and gasps of several of the dancers.
“Shut f--k up, now!” The armed man
fired his gun into the ceiling to stir up the lightshades again. “That what happen to any f—ker who no do as told.” The man turned round slowly in the
centre of the now hushed room, brandishing his smoking weapon.
Cordite sharply tickled her nose and
Louise felt sick with fear as she stood silent and transfixed. She looked around in the hope of seeing the
Director, Santana, who by custom was usually in charge of everything around
him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Yet
as the star, the famous personality here, she felt a duty to say something in
his absence. Breaking away from Henry she faced the man, who seemed to be in
charge, feeling quite brave – hopefully the subsequent interviews would credit
her with that.
“Please, no one has to get hurt if you
just...” she raised her arms... “Haaah,” she gasped
as the man brutally jabbed the butt of his sub-machine gun into her belly,
making her collapse to her knees. It was
so painful, so unexpected and so frightening that someone could treat her like
this. Her tummy ached as she desperately
gasped, trying to suck in breath, thoroughly winded, feeling sick with pain and
fear.
“You bastards... arghhhh,”
beside her she heard and saw through her red mist of agony Harry similarly
crumple as he tried to intervene. Frantically she held up her hand to him to
try to show that she was OK and avoid him getting hurt further.
“No one move or talk, you all now our
prisoners,” the sing-song Japanese voice echoed in the silent room. “All stand,
immediately,” he snapped and Louise gasped as a soldier’s rough hand in her
hair pulled her upright. She still
struggled for breath, her stomach one big ache as Harry supported her despite
his own obvious pain. “It better if everyone obey, if not, more get punished,”
the soldier nodded at the extra lying in the spreading red pool. “Men in line
over there, women here, space out three feet apart!” He pointed to opposite
sides of the large room.
“Please...” a soft voice whispered.
The girl, someone Louise recognised as one of the extras, hastily complied
after a gun was pointed at her. With a
terrified and lingering look at her husband, Louise took her place in the line
of frightened women, seeing Henry looking just as miserable across the
room.
“No use mobile phones; all handbags at
feet and all pockets to be emptied on floor.
If anything found on you when body searched, you get punish,” a squat
brutish looking Japanese soldier shouted.
Louise felt so lost and cut off when
she obediently placed her handbag at her feet.
It contained her life, in effect.
Without her purse and credit cards, mobile I-phone and such expensive
paraphernalia she was virtually nothing – they defined her as woman, as a
star. She ground her teeth in rage as
one of the soldiers walked down their line, stuffing their bags into a sack and
the same with the contents of the men’s pockets. She looked around desperately, hoping to see
the director. Maybe, a forlorn hope
gripped her, he had escaped these thugs, or had heard what was happening and
was even now calling for help?
“Now all to be body searched. Hands to head, legs apart – do it now!” The
guard fired another shot into the ceiling so that everyone jumped and did as
they were told.
This was all so demeaning. Louise was practically in tears as she obeyed
the shameful command, feeling now just like a real prisoner of war.
“Look, buster I’m an American citizen,
you can’t just... aaarghhhhh,” the lovely Negress
actress, Salina Troy, doubled up in pain after a guard’s rifle butt jabbed her
painfully in the stomach when she wriggled away from the searching hands of
another guard.
“On feet, f—king cow,” the soldier
snarled as he hauled her upright with a hand in her black hair.
Louise had, in truth, since their
arrival on the island been a bit in awe of Salina, a feisty black girl also in
her mid twenties, and also trying to claw her way up
in films. But now she felt nothing but
sorrow for her as the Negress was forced to stand straight again and allow the
evil hands to roam over her, roughly tugging out her shirt as they felt and
patted her all over.
All Louise could do was somehow switch
off her mind as she stood rigid with fury and tension as the guard finally
reached her. The bastard, now grinning,
had hot sweaty hands and he didn’t care where they went. She ground her teeth
as they lovingly patted down her supple body, disgustingly slowly, squeezing
her boobs over the dress so obviously concealing nothing before crouching and
patting down her thighs and up on their inside.
“Hah,” she wriggled as his coarse
fingers pushed upwards into the warm apex of her thighs, scrunching up her
dress. It was so intimate and horrible.
“I like when you wriggle for me,” the
brute grinned, again patting her thigh.
In the background she could see Henry’s white and sweating face,
watching as the swine mauled her.
“I trust everyone now know dangerous
position they in? But I can maybe help?”
It was a young and melodious, almost friendly voice with something familiar
about it - and it wasn’t interrupted or shouted down by their captors – so a
good sign. Whoever it was had the
confidence of these brutes, Louise hoped.
