From [email protected] Sun Jul 30 13:49:37 EDT 1995
Article: 72368 of alt.sex.movies
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Date: Sun, 30 Jul 1995 17:14:23 UTC
Subject: Casting Call #13 Review
Lines: 78
Status: RO
CASTING CALL #13 -- A REVIEW
For the uninitiated, the "plot" of the CASTING CALL series of videos has
Max Hardcore playing a producer or casting director who is looking for an
actress to appear in an adult video. There is lots of POV video as Max
works at his desk. Occasionally, he reviews Polaroid photos of aspiring
actresses, which is kind of "inside" and fun. He also takes calls on a
speaker phone from an unseen "Mr. Big," who yells at him to cast the movie
now, or else. Eventually, a young woman appears at the door. Max spends
a few minutes "interviewing" her, then he tells her a "screen test" is
required. Max then proceeds to fuck the living daylights out of the girl.
In Number 13, there are four scenes.
MONIQUE DEMONE: brunette hair past shoulders; pretty face, with hot dark
eyes, big mouth and subtle makeup; creamy skin, natural, medium tits with
average-size nipples; totally shaved pubic hair. Interview and tease in
office set; strip, then right to anal; change to poolside set, with her in
hot bikini; excellent BJ as she kneels in front of a standing Max; back
indoors for an average RC and some anal; finishes with BJ and facial.
Lighting, color and video quality below average indoors; above average
outdoors.
PAISLEY HUNTER: brunette/reddish hair to shoulders; creamy skin; hard,
leggy body; pert small tits with stiff small nipples; wisp pubic hair
trim; plump outer lips; supermodel face with high cheekbones, dark eyes
and good makeup. Total look is young, classy and well-bred. Interview
reveals Huneter's poise and excellent diction. This girl obviously has an
education. She also fixes Max with the hottest gaze you can imagine. She
then takes the top down on her minidress and kneels in front of Max for a
BJ. This is the hottest scene in the video, as she looks straight into
the camera and deep-throats Max. Also, Max is curiously restrained here.
He doesn't grab her hair, call her names, or face-fuck her. In fact, if
you didn't know better, you'd think this was a scene from an upscale
video. Then they do some doggie, some missionary and some RC anal. Only
drag is interior anal cumshot.
CHRISTINA ANGEL: blonde hair past shoulders; med tan with faded tan lines;
round, firm tits widely-spaced; small, stiff nipples; standard pubic hair
trim; gorgeous face; cute smile; tatoo along upper spine. Interview
features her in tight white dress that shows lotsa cleavage. Then there's
a pretty good BJ in Max's office, but she's developed the porno queen
habit of keeping her eyes tightly shut. Max then has her don a bikini and
they adjourn to the pool for some RC anal. She is uncomfortable,
whimpering about how much it hurts. He coaches her to relax. Another
internal anal cumshot.
STACEY KING: teen sleaze look; dirty blonde hair to shoulders; braces and
chewing gum; medium size natural tits with tatoo on left one; slim body;
creamy skin; pretty dark eyes; standard porno trim; pierced tongue.
Interview quickly leads to hiking her miniskirt up and some anal in the
guest chair in front of Max's desk. Then he drills her splayed inner lips
in a hot scene. Next is a rather rough face fuck that recalls the Max of
old, finishing up with a facial.
OVERALL: Lighting, color temparature, and overall video quality is poor,
even by Max's standards. At least twice, he includes video of cold, gray
weather outdoors and laments about it. Obviously, her prefers to shoot out
there because the light's better.
Maybe Max is listening to those who criticize him for being too crude and
rough. With the exception of the last scene, he is quite well behaved
here.
Paisley Hunter absolutely steals the video. She is classy and well-bred
and totally hot all at the same time. As soon as she gets the obligatory
boob job and spends some time in the tanning bed, she'll be ready for the
big leagues.
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169 “I can arrange all that.” Such Apaches as had not gone back on the war-path returned to the States with the troops; but there were five months more of the outrages of Geronimo and his kind. Then in the summer of the year another man, more fortunate and better fitted to deal with it all, perhaps,—with the tangle of lies and deceptions, cross purposes and trickery,—succeeded where Crook had failed and had been relieved of a task that was beyond him. Geronimo was captured, and was hurried off to a Florida prison with his band, as far as they well could be from the reservation they had refused to accept. And with them were sent other Indians, who had been the friends and helpers of the government for years, and who had run great risks to help or to obtain peace. But the memory and gratitude of governments is become a proverb. The southwest settled down to enjoy its safety. The troops rested upon the laurels they had won, the superseded general went on with his work in another field far away to the north. The new general, the saviour of the land, was heaped[Pg 305] with honor and praise, and the path of civilization was laid clear. Parliament met on the 10th of January, 1765. The resentment of the Americans had reached the ears of the Ministry and the king, yet both continued determined to proceed. In the interviews which Franklin and the other agents had with the Ministers, Grenville begged them to point to any other tax that would be more agreeable to the colonists than the stamp-duty; but they without any real legal grounds drew the line between levying custom and imposing an inland tax. Grenville paid no attention to these representations. Fifty-five resolutions, prepared by a committee of ways and means, were laid by him on the table of the House of Commons at an early day of the Session, imposing on America nearly the same stamp-duties as were already in practical operation in England. These resolutions being adopted, were embodied in a bill; and when it was introduced to the House, it was received with an apathy which betrayed on all hands the profoundest ignorance of its importance. Burke, who was a spectator of the debates in both Houses, in a speech some years afterwards, stated that he never heard a more languid debate than that in the Commons. Only two or three persons spoke against the measure and that with great composure. There was but one division in the whole progress of the Bill, and the minority did not reach to more than thirty-nine or forty. In the Lords, he said, there was, to the best of his recollection, neither division nor debate! His cheek paled for an instant as the thought obtruded that the man might resist and he have to really shoot him. "Good, the old man's goin' to take the grub out to 'em himself," thought the Deacon with relief. "He'll be easy to manage. No need o' shootin' him." "Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em already." John Dodd, twenty-seven years old, master, part of the third generation, arranged his chair carefully so that it faced the door of the Commons Room, letting the light from the great window illumine the back of his head. He clasped his hands in his lap in a single, nervous gesture, never noticing that the light gave him a faint saintlike halo about his feathery hair. His companion took another chair, set it at right angles to Dodd's and gave it long and thoughtful consideration, as if the act of sitting down were something new and untried. "Besides," Norma said desperately, "they're only rumors—" "Oh, I've found a way of gitting shut of them rootses—thought of it while I wur working at the trees. I'm going to blast 'em out." During the next ten years the farm went forward by strides. Reuben bought seven more acres of Boarzell in '59, and fourteen in '60. He also bought a horse-rake, and threshed by machinery. He was now a topic in every public-house from Northiam to Rye. His success and the scant trouble he took to conciliate those about him had made him disliked. Unprosperous farmers[Pg 124] spoke windily of "spoiling his liddle game." Ditch and Ginner even suggested to Vennal that they should club together and buy thirty acres or so of the Moor themselves, just to spite him. However, money was too precious to throw away even on such an object, especially as everyone felt sure that Backfield would sooner or later "bust himself" in his dealings with Boarzell. "Let's go home," she said faintly—"it's getting late."