The Grande Futapest Hotel Ch. 04

"If you're in business for yourself, like being a streamer or a Youtuber, then you are an entrepreneur." Selena corrected.

"Well, how do you do this all as one person? How does your million-dollar enterprise and me jacking it on a built-in webcam on my laptop have the same numbers of employees?"

Selena shrugged. "I don't know. I just... spend most of my day working on something. It never really struck me to get an assistant... until I met you, of course."

Layla smiled, but her attention was drawn to someone slowly approached their table, a woman with alternating stripes of pink and white hair cut into a straight bob. She was an average build, had glasses with black frames, and wore a dark colored t-shirt with a pre-faded logo for something neither of them recognized. The Impact font text at the top and bottom of the shirt reminded Layla of an Advice Animal viral picture, but she didn't know what species it was.

"'Scuze me." She said quietly. "Are you Selena Grande?"

Selena stood up. "I am." She answered, matching the woman's volume.

The woman's eyebrows sunk briefly. She reached passed Selena, her hand moving faster than a cobra strike. Layla stood up just in time to watch this woman remove the lid from Selena's large French vanilla iced coffee and slung the entire contents into her face, splashing around her like a water balloon filled with slush. Whipped cream and coffee scattered down her body, a dollop of cream settling between her breasts, her mouth opening and eyes closing in shock.

Layla swooped to move around Selena, shouting, "Hey, what the hell is your--"

Before being stopped by the iron grip of Selena's wet hand. Layla looked at her hand, and then to Selena, who was looking down at the floor rather than at her attacker. She took in a breath, remaining still as the cream dribbled down her body, and as the other customers had all burst into alarmed chatter and bustle.

Selena released Layla's hand and started to walk away, past the woman, not looking at her... but towards a man in a ball cap and sunglasses who was holding his phone sideways. Her face darkened, a frown appearing on her face. If someone had the sense to record horizontally, he was either a videographer by trade, or he was recording before the incident. Others were recording now, but every other phone out was held vertically.

"So... you got anything to say?" Asked the man.

Selena resisted the tension building in her, denying this man the spectacle of even watching her hands close into fists. She left out the front door, under the protests of someone who might have been the manager asking her to stay so they could sort this out, or if they wanted her to call the police.

Layla stayed back for just a second. The man was now recording her. "So who are you, anyway?" The man sneered with a gentle disdain for this unfamiliar woman.

In a move just as fast as the mysterious woman's, Layla swung her hand like a leopard's paw, ripping the phone out of his hands. She stopped the recording and looked at the gallery of pictures and videos. There seemed to be only two videos of her and Selena. She could delete them with a single dismissive swipe downward.

Instead, she went into Settings.

"Hey, give that back!" Said the amateur paparazzi, jumping from his seat and marching towards Layla, shoulders forward and hands balled into fists. He was pushed back to the wall by a fellow who was definitely the manager, pinning him with one arm against the wall. He might have been wearing an apron and nametag, but he was still over six feet tall and in very good shape. If there was a man Layla could be attracted to... he was somewhere in the ballpark.

Layla continued to monkey around in the settings as the technicolor memecoat walked towards them, still wielding the empty plastic cup that she had used. "You get your hands off him!"

"Shut up!" The manager yelled sharply, with the distinct clarity and bark of a man who'd spent at least a few years in the military. Evidently, they missed the sign on the outside that said "Veteran Owned Business." The photographer shrunk under his intense stare.

"Should I call the police?" Asked a bystander.

"No. That's what they want." The manager answered quietly. "I'll deal with both of you in a bit." He snarled at the woman with the tye-died hair. Her lips curled into a fearful grimace.

"There we go." Layla said quietly, tossing the phone back to the photographer with a flick of the wrist that made the phone tumble wildly before he caught it. Layla patted the manager on the chest, feeling the firm, muscular pectoral under it. "Thank you, sir."

She hustled away to catch up with Selena. Just before she got into the vestibule at the front of the coffee shop, she heard the photographer shout, "what did you do?" followed shortly after, more intensely, by "What the fuck did you do?!"

Selena had just reached her car as Layla dashed to catch up, the air moving past her whipping her short skirt up and exposing herself for a moment before she slapped the skirt back down with both hands. Selena unlocked the car and they both sat down.

"Sorry. I fell behind." Layla panted, buckling her seat belt. Selena's hand trembled as it put the key in the ignition. Rather than turn it, she let it go and grabbed the steering wheel. The color left Selena's knuckles and a few tendons appeared through the skin.

"Selena...?" Layla turned to her. Selena's hair was wet and matted, her formal clothing was stained... and the whole car smelled like coffee.

She held back as long as she could. Why couldn't this have happened when she was alone so she could cry in her car like a normal person? She let out one struggling sniff, like the first drop appearing in the crack of the dam.

Layla leaned over, and immediately got caught in her seat belt. She released the buckle and grabbed Selena around the shoulders, holding her. Selena released the wheel and embraced Layla. She breathed in deep with her nose, her arms shaking. Layla turned her head inward and kissed Selena on the lips.

Suddenly, the tremble was gone. The thumping heartbeat was still there, and the hot breath as they passed their tongues across each other's lips.

A few minutes later, Layla reluctantly released her. In her mind, Layla kept hearing words to say, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. They stared into each other's eyes, Selena's anger extinguished for now.

"Let's go to my place." Layla offered. "We can clean up there."

"OK." Selena turned on the car and drove off.

A few minutes of quiet, Layla asked "Has that ever happened before?"

"No." Selena said. "Never."

"What was her deal?"

"I don't know. I'm not going to give it much thought." Selena's frown deepened. "But... I understand, as a porn star, my job is to help people live out fantasies. I fulfill those fantasies. But I also can represent whatever negative feelings people have about futa, about porn, about sexuality itself."

A deep breath from Selena. "Remember what I said on the drive in, about how we have less friends in the LGBT community than you'd think, as futas who work in porn? Yeah, this is what I was talking about. And the real problem is... there's no futa sisterhood. It's not like black people, who obviously can't hide their skin color, and they come together to support each other from prejudice. It's not even like the transgendered community, where there's support, but also the option to live in stealth. Nobody uses the term 'stealth' to mean a futa who pretends she's not a futa, because most just don't care. There's still a lot of futa who keep their bodies secret, which means those of us who know about it seem like a much smaller minority than we really are. Maybe she didn't even have a problem with me and was just trying to get a rise out of me and put the video on Facebook or whatever."

There was a pause. Layla didn't know what to say.

"What did you do to that guy's phone, anyway?"

Layla was surprised Selena had seen that.

"I hope you didn't smash it." Selena said. "That sort of reaction was probably part of what they were hoping for."

"I factory-reset it." Layla said.

"What? How?"

"It was a Google phone, like mine. It's easy."

"Don't you need his password to reset it?"

"I guessed it."

"How?"

They reached a stoplight. Layla took out her phone and pulled up the pattern lock screen on her phone and showed it to Selena. Layla drew an S in the nine dots. Her phone wisely rejected it. "It's the most common lock pattern on a phone like this. It used to be mine, until I heard that."

"What is your lock pattern now?"

Layla drew on the nine dots with her fingertip, connecting all the dots into the shape of a G.

Selena let out a short laugh. "S. G.... is that for me?"

"Of course."

Even though she was still cold and soaked in coffee and cream, that made Selena smile.

---

At Layla's apartment, Selena stripped and hopped in the shower. Layla changed into some fresh street clothing and washed her formal clothing as well, having been gently spattered with coffee at the point of the assault and making secondhand contact with it while they were making out.

When Layla came back up, Selena was still in the shower, so she waited in her bedroom, browsing the Internet on her phone, checking her email... it's time like this she'd be browsing something on her laptop... probably looking at some sort of porn.

Just as she puffed out a sigh of boredom, her bedroom door clicked as it opened, and Selena Grande walked in wearing a towel around her hair like a turban, and one around her body, low enough to show her cleavage and tight enough to enhance it, but barely not long enough to keep the tip of her cock hidden.

Selena sat on the bed, taking the towel off her hair and rubbing it to dry it. "I feel so much better." She said. Layla just stared as she tossed her hair about with the towel. "That two-in-one isn't really my favorite, but... it smells nice. Do you have some lotion?"

Layla reached into her nightstand and pulled out a large bottle of body lotion. "May I?" She pointed the spout towards her, other hand cupped beneath it, anticipating.

Selena set the towel down, her hair dry enough for now. "Sure." She stripped off the other towel, revealing her shiny wet flesh. Layla panted gently. It really didn't matter how many times she'd seen it before. Selena Grande was naked in her bedroom.

Layla filled her hand with a generous dollop of lotion, passing part of it to her right hand as she tossed the bottle to the bed. Layla went to her knees in front of Selena and rubber her calves, spreading the lotion out as much as she could, her face inches from Selena's hanging member.

"Should I do your feet, or are you ticklish?"

"I'll do my own feet." Selena answered. "Unless you want to."

"I would, but..." Layla made the sound that some spelled as 'ech.' "Why dance around it? No, I don't have a foot fetish."

"Me, neither." Selena said. "I've done a handful of foot scenes in movies, and boy, is it silly to me. I just don't get it."

"I have too many fetishes to judge anyone for theirs." Layla said, advancing upwards to Selena's thighs, taking them each one at a time, her hot breath tickling Selena's cock as she worked the lotion into her skin.

"Yeah." Selena said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not repulsed by it, I just don't understand it. It's like smoking fetish stuff. I'm like... what do you find erotic about this? It's like finding a car erotic. They tried to get me to do smoking fetish stuff once. I refused. I was scared of getting hooked. That's why in Ms. Private Dick, the noir porn parody I did, that's why I never actually smoke. I always hold the lighter in front of the cigarette and something interrupts me, like the phone rings, or someone busts in the door or my assistant gives me fellatio. That wasn't in the script. I just refused to hold a real lit cigarette."

"Is that really why they did that?" Layla asked. "Because that was hilarious."

"You've seen Ms. Private Dick? That didn't do that well on DVD."

"Well, I pirated it."

"Naughty. I'll spank you later." Layla's hands had worked upwards to Selena's breasts, which she also took one at a time. She worked from the underside and rubbed upward, allowing each breast to bound and deform with her touch.

Stone Phillips helped her realize that she wasn't especially attracted to men... but Layla didn't remember a time where she didn't love breasts. Even if she weren't a futa, she would still certainly be a lesbian, whatever that word meant in the post-Comet world. Layla swallowed hard and tried not to grind her teeth as she rubbed her the huge pliant orb of warm titty flesh.

All the while, Selena watched, leaning back on her arms, allowing Layla to paw at her flesh and rub the lotion in until nothing was left behind but a pleasant sheen. Of course, Layla couldn't leave one breast shiny and moist-looking and leave the other dry, so she went to work on the other. A dark stain at the tip of Layla's cock restrained in her gray yoga pants continued to grow larger.

Selena brought herself on her stomach, and Layla rubbed a bit of lotion into her buttocks. Perhaps the least appreciated part of Selena, it was always Layla's favorite. Well, second-favorite after the cock, which was literally everyone's favorite. Really, her favorite part of Selena was whatever she was touching.

As she massaged them, she thought about how firm, yet gently yielding the flesh was. It wasn't fatty like a breast, but had a small layer of pillowy fat around it that made it perfect for grabbing and spanking. Layla rolled the cheeks apart and saw, between Selena's legs, her pussy, so small and neat, a tiny slit, curving against her undercarriage like a single parenthesis. Holding the cheeks apart, the two sides of her pussy barely separated, revealing a tiny sliver of pink... and a clear drop of moisture from within that no number of towels could hope to dry.

And above that... between the cheeks... normally hidden....

How dirty she felt to be staring at it, the tiny bulls-eye guarded by the luscious muscular mounds. An aperture seemingly too small to fit her littlest finger in, much less something larger... Layla was so hard, she swore she felt it buzzing as it strained against her yoga pants.

"You get lost back there?" Selena turned her head to look Layla over her shoulder. Layla had dreamed of having Selena in this compromising position a thousand times. She moved forward and pointed the tip of her cock against the opening, not removing it from her yoga pants.

"Hey." Selena chuckled. "You're going in dry? That's not very romantic."

Layla reached to the bottle of body lotion on the bed.

Selena's demeanor changed from bemused vixen to patient teacher, turning more fully on her side and pulling herself away from Layla's tip. "No, using that as lubricant is a very bad idea. Everything that makes that great for skin makes it bad for... internal use. The fragrance, the... just trust me. It's bad. I'd rather you go in dry."

Layla looked like she was stuck, unable to tune out her desire to continue the massage. Selena took the initiative and grabbed Layla and threw her back down to the bed, reversing their positions. Selena grabbed Layla's shirt and ripped it off over her head, freeing Layla's breasts with a single gentle bounce. Selena pulled down on Layla's yoga pants, the tip caught in the waistband until it came almost perpendicular to her body before finally slipping free and snapping back against her body.

Selena took Layla's head and kissed her rapturously. One hand held each other's head, as if it was necessary to keep it from escaping, the other held their partner's balls, the heat coming off them like the overworked engine of a muscle car. Selena had forgotten she had been in a bad mood earlier, or that she'd ever been in a bad mood in her whole life.

In time, they slowed down, coming to rest in a slightly sweaty heap, both breathing hard. Selena moved her head next to Layla's ear.

"So... you want to take a nap?" Selena whispered to Layla. "Or you want me to fill you with my babies?"

Layla moaned, her hands going over her groin. She shivered, moving out from under Selena.

"Did THAT make you come?"

"Nooooo..." Layla whimpered. "Not yet."

"Hold back." Selena continued whispering. "You can do it. I believe in you."

"The whispering isn't helping! Talk about something not sexy!"

Five seconds of silence as Layla huffed through her teeth, trying to hold back as she was teetering very close 'to the edge,' as it were.

"Can you really not think of ANYthing not sexy?!"

"Ceiling fans?"

"You just looked up at the ceiling!"

"It's not like there's actually a ceiling fan up there! At least I got that far!"

Layla took in a few cleansing breaths. "OK, I think I'm out of immediate danger."

"I told you. Ceiling fans."

They stayed there for a while, Layla's heart slowing down just in time to be startled when her phone alarm went off, telling her to move the laundry.

---

Selena and Layla relaxed. Layla didn't sleep, though Selena did. Once again, sleeping with Selena was more exciting than sleeping with her. Layla let Selena take this nap, unsure how often she got the chance in her hectic routine.

After all, now she could tell all her friends that Selena Grande had slept in her bed. They wouldn't believe her, but it would be true.

Layla did wake Selena up when the laundry was done. Selena looked at her formal clothes, flipping them around and sniffing them.

"I can't believe they aren't stained." Selena said.

"You know how many times I've gotten coffee stains on my clothing at work?" Layla asked. "I got very good at getting it out."

Selena lowered the blazer into her lap, then set it to her side and embraced Layla suddenly, kissing her on the mouth like never before. It was one long, slow, deep kiss.

"Thank you." Selena said softly, as she released her.

"It's no problem at all." Layla said. "Thank you."

Selena thought about getting dressed, but decided against it. She was entirely comfortable here. Instead, she asked, "Layla, do you have a pregnancy fetish?"

Layla started to blush. "Yeah, kinda."

Selena smiled on one side of her face. "What was the video that got you into it?"

"Excuse me?"

"In the modern era, everyone has the video that got them into a certain thing. I'm responsible for lots of people learning they like futa. What video got you into pregnant chicks?"

She pulled out her phone. "I'll look for it."

And that's how Layla and Selena wound up rubbing their cocks, watching a video on Layla's phone of an at-least-eight-month pregnant woman in her bed, playing with her clit and staring at the camera like it was the most desirous person in the world.

This time, Layla knew that person was watching.

"So..." Selena began. "it doesn't bother you that... to get that way, she had to have sex with a man?"

Layla turned to Selena. "You've had sex with men. And that doesn't bother me."

Selena's eyebrows moved gently. "I guess I can't argue with that."

They kept watching.

"I'll be real with you." Selena continued. "I'm glad we can't get pregnant. Not just because pregnancy seems rough or because I don't really want children. That's not it. It's just because... have you seen what happens to some of their nipples? She doesn't have it, but lots of pregnant pornos... the women have really big areolas. I guess it grows during the pregnancy. I wouldn't want that."

A small pause, and Layla's hand stopped. "I think those women just have those areolas to start with. I mean... when you're trying to make pregnant porn, you can't be too picky with who you cast. There's only so many women who are pregnant and willing to make a porn at any given time."