My name is Angeline Currie. You won’t find that name in any history of Hollywood. In all the movies in which I starred from the ’40s to the ’60s, and the character roles I played in movies and on TV in the twilight of my career, I was billed quite differently. Not even my agent knew my real name but, trust me, if you heard my professional name you’d certainly know it.
I arrived in Hollywood in 1938 as a naïve 19-year old from a little dirt town in Nebraska. Like every other pretty girl in town I was there to be, not just an actress, but a star. With my luxuriant red hair, my perky breasts and my long shapely legs, I knew that Errol, Clark, Spence and the rest were just waiting for me to fall into their arms; it was simply a matter of time. I had played starring roles in three Kirk Steiner plays – a big deal in my home county – and Tinsel Town was mine for the taking. Yeah, right, me and every other dumb broad waiting table in every diner on Sunset Strip.
I was luckier than most though. When I arrived MGM were hiring – not talent, just general help – and I found myself gazing from afar at many of my screen idols (some of whom I acted opposite in later years). My job had some high-falutin’ name, but we were known on the lot as gofers, as in go fer this, go fer that…general dogsbody was another name for it. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to live on, with a little left over for my acting classes. So I raced around the Culver City studios, fetching, carrying, and at the beck and call of anybody and everybody. I bumped into Errol Flynn once, literally, as I hurtled around a corner. He gave me his trademark smile and said, “Well, hello there.” Every instinct in my body screamed at me to stay and flirt, but I was carrying an important message to King Vidor, so all I could do was gasp an apology and rush off. I reminded dear Errol about the incident years later, and he claimed not only to remember it, but to have fallen in love with me at that moment, the old dog!
I got a real thrill in early ’39, when I was assigned as an assistant prop mistress to the crew for The Wizard of Oz. There was a tremendous buzz around the studio about that production; public interest was aroused from the moment Metro had announced they were making the movie, and with Judy Garland cast as Dorothy everyone believed it was going to be a huge hit. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the happiest film set I ever experienced. There were injuries to important cast members, changes of director and actors, re-shoots…and of course, the Munchkins.
There were well over a hundred of those little people (as they preferred to be called) on the set. I’d led a relatively sheltered life before flitting to California, and I had seen very few midgets. I’m ashamed now to say that, at first, I felt them a little creepy, those hordes with the bodies of children and the faces of adults. Most of the experienced performers were German circus artists and spoke only their native tongue, whereas most of the English speakers had very little background as performers. They had to be sternly managed the first time they rehearsed one of the movie’s most famous songs: the Germans sang in thick accents, and the Americans could clearly be heard to be singing “Follow the yellow prick road…”
For all their jollity on-screen, off it they seemed a pretty miserable bunch. I had as little to do with them as possible, but rumors of their outrageous behavior swept the lot. Cooped up in the Culver Hotel, they were said to relieve their boredom by constantly drinking and fornicating with complete abandon. Like all such Hollywood stories, this one became more exaggerated with each telling. I have to say that personally I saw few signs of drunkenness among them around the lot, although I knew two male electricians who were offered a good time by female Munchkins, and the female cast and crew were warned to be on our guard against the men. One of the men even propositioned Judy – and her mother!
The first time I actually came face-to-face with the reality of their behavior was one evening when I was putting away some stuff from the set. I was working late, and as I approached the locker where the items belonged I heard what sounded like a groaning noise. I thought maybe someone was hurt, and I was just about to call out when a female voice moaned, “Oh fuck, yes!” It was followed by an earthy male laugh. I guessed what was happening of course, and the proper thing would have been to go back later, or even just to cough and announce my presence. But I didn’t. I don’t know why, but I crept forwards to see who it was doing the wild thing.
As I peeked my head around a corner I saw one of the studio secretaries, a pretty brunette as tall as me, half-laying on a battered chaise longue, her skirt pushed up around her waist. Her long tanned legs were spread wide, her stockings around her ankles, and her panties on the floor beside her feet. Between her legs, gripping her thighs in his hands and grunting as he pumped at her, was a man with wavy blond hair, a bare torso that rippled with muscle, a tight butt, revealed by the pants gathered around his ankles – and standing all of three-feet-nine tall! I watched in silent astonishment. I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the bizarre sight before me. I knew the man concerned was called Randall, one of the American midgets and, from what I’d seen, something of a loudmouth. I think I must have made some sound, because suddenly his face swiveled towards me. Our eyes locked for a moment; then he leered at me and gave me a wink before turning back to his paramour, thrusting at her even more vigorously. I felt my face glowing red, but still I couldn’t pull away. Within moments the woman’s moans of pleasure turned to almost a scream, as she cried, “Oh God Randy, oh sweet Jesus Mary Joseph, yessss!” She lurched at him, then sank back into the chaise, her tongue lolling out. As the little guy reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse I finally turned and fled.
That evening I couldn’t get what I’d seen out of my head. I shared an apartment with three other girls, and the one who was home that evening got furious with me because I was so distracted that I wasn’t listening to her whine about what a crummy day she’d had. Later, in bed, I was still thinking about it. The woman Randall had been fucking had to be fully two feet taller than him. I had only ever seen one adult male penis at that time, but surely such a small man had to be built in proportion, didn’t he? Yet the look of pure pleasure on that woman’s face as he…I realized with a shock of guilt that, as all this passed through my mind, I was stroking a finger along my pussy, sending a warm glow running through me.
The next day I tried hard to put the scene from the night before out of my mind as I walked through the studio gates. I wasn’t allowed to do so for long though. My first job of the day was to load up costumes to go to the laundry. As I was sorting them into bags I heard a polite throat-clearing. I glanced up, and Randall was leaning against the doorframe smiling in my direction. He was wearing a checkered shirt with enough buttons undone to reveal a bulging chest. His sleeves were rolled up, showing his muscular arms too. I scowled at him, but he gave me another wink. “Hi sugar. Enjoy the show last night?”
The comment threw me off balance, and I felt my face blushing again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to watch…I was only there for a moment…”
He waved a small hand at me, batting away my begrudged apology. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It ain’t the first time I’ve performed to an audience.” I stared at him open-mouthed. I’d heard the rumors which swept Los Angeles of wild parties in the Hollywood Hills, fuelled by drink and drugs, where one of the regular entertainments was said to be displays of midget sex. I realized Randall was speaking again. “But I was thinking – if you’d like to star in the second reel…” He laughed at the look of shock on my face. “I know what you’re thinking baby, but believe me, there are guys twice my size who’d wish they had the rocket I got in my pants.” He thrust his groin forwards suggestively. “I promise you, it’d be the best sex you’ve ever had. Er, you have had some sex, haven’t you doll?”
Yet again I blushed. The closest I had come to sex was a night at the back of the Old Town Theatre back home, where I’d sucked Kirk Steiner’s dick to persuade him to make me the star of his new play. I’d just turned 18, and I stole the role right out from under the nose of his wife. After that he cast me on y acting talent alone. I was thinking about the way I’d cheapened myself that night when I half-whispered “No” in answer to Randall’s question. When I saw the leer on his face I shook myself back to some kind of sense. Why the hell had I told the little creep anything? I snapped angrily, “And I won’t be having any until the night I’m wed, thank you very much.” Then I flounced out of the room, nearly knocking him over with two laundry bags. His laughter chased me down the corridor.
That afternoon I was on my break in the commissary when Randall strolled in. I cursed silently, and tried to bury my head in the copy of Variety I was reading, but he’d spotted me and headed straight for me. I continued to ignore him but, adopting a Southern Gentleman accent he announced, “Ma’am, I fear I owe you an apology. You would do me a great honor if you would kindly accept this small token of my sincere remorse.” I glanced over my paper – he was brandishing a bouquet of red roses at me, and smiling shyly.
I would have felt churlish if I’d turned him away at that point so, despite his rather crude attempt at propositioning me earlier, I gave my own finest Southern Belle impression, batting my eyelids at him and lisping, “Why, thank you kindly sir.”
He grinned and, uninvited, pulled himself up onto the seat next to mine. He adopted a solemn look and said, “I really am sorry, honey. I’m honestly not usually quite so crass. I guess I was just a little embarrassed at you catching me with Crystal yesterday. You know, I’ve seen all the work you do on the set. You rush around all day, keeping everybody happy, always that sunny smile on your face, and you don’t get the credit you deserve.” I gave him a skeptical look. “I mean it, cutie. You girls, you get taken for granted by all the big bananas on the lot, you never see your names up in lights in the movies, yet without you this town would grind to a halt in an hour. Am I right, or am I right?”
I knew deep down that it was just a line he was giving me, but he was right. I was one of the nameless thousands who were the oil that kept the Hollywood machine running (a fact I never forgot once I moved to the other side of the camera). I favored him with one of my sunny smiles. “Thanks Randall, that’s nice of you to say.”
He smiled back. “Hey sweetie, my friends call me Randy. Look, I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start. I’m really ashamed of the way I acted. By way of an apology, I wanted to invite you over to my place for dinner tonight.” My face must have reflected my horror at the idea of entering the den of debauchery that the Culver Hotel was rumored to be. Randy picked up on it, and said, “It’s okay, I’m not at the hotel. I ain’t stayin’ with that crowd of miserable krauts and Gotham City morons. Nah, I got my own place off the Boulevard. I’m a pretty good cook, if I say it myself, and I’ll have a couple of good friends there. Ladies. It’d be real swell if you’d join us, show me you’ve forgiven me for my earlier rudeness.”
I thought about it. Randy really did seem contrite, and it was sweet of him to invite me. He also had a natural charm which, in common with many women, no doubt, I found appealing. It seemed safe enough; after all, although he was clearly strong I was a lot bigger than him, and working on my dad’s farm and around the lot had built up my strength too. Anyway, Randy hardly seemed likely to jump me, especially with two other females present. I also had a slight twinge of guilt about the prejudice I’d at first felt against the little people in the movie. And, I guess, I was a teensy bit curious about how a midget lived. At that moment I felt a soft hand descend on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Billie Burke, such a sweet lady, standing over me. She was in full costume as Glinda, the good witch from Oz. She glanced warily at Randy, then smiled at me and said, “Are you all right, dear?”
I returned her smile, and replied, “Yes, I’m fine Miss Burke, but thank you so much for asking.” She smiled again, glanced suspiciously at Randy again, then wafted away. I turned my smile to Randy, and told him, “It’s very nice of you to invite me to your home and, yes, I’d be happy to accept.”
He gave me details of how to find his place, then glanced at the commissary clock. “That’s great, sugar. Oops, gotta run, I’m due on set.” I couldn’t help smiling as he weaved through the busy room towards the door, singing softly in a silly voice, “Follow the yellow prick road”. Then I realized I was due back on set too, and spilled the last of my coffee in my hurry to slurp it down.
That evening I rushed home, bathed, changed into my best party dress and fresh stockings. Then I treated myself to a taxi cab over to Hollywood Boulevard. Randy’s place was way off the Boulevard, in a rather shady area with several panhandlers dotted about the streets. I felt distinctly nervous as I hurried along, profoundly wishing I’d asked the cab to drop me a little closer. Randy lived in what would now be an incredibly fashionable loft above a warehouse converted into a stylish restaurant. He greeted me at the door with a big smile, and waved me into his home. Then he introduced me to his other guests, also both midgets.
I recognized Mamie from among the hordes of Munchkins on the movie set. She had red hair not unlike my own. I guessed she was somewhere in the mid-30s, but I found it difficult to be sure. The other girl I didn’t know. She was tiny, only an inch or so above three feet, and African American, as we’d say now. Her name was Rachel and she had the most incredibly beautiful face, with big, shining eyes, a cute little nose, pouting lips and a dimpled chin. She was 20, the same age as me. Whereas Mamie had the slightly pinched face I had associated in my mind with midgets, Rachel, like Randy, had pretty regular features.
After brief conversation we sat down to dinner. It was roast chicken, and I had to admit Randy really had done a fine job as it melted in my mouth. We washed it down with some heavenly champagne which our host said he’d been keeping for a special occasion. I wasn’t much of a drinker in those days, and I rather foolishly had rather too much, as one or the other of my companions kept filling my glass. But hey, it was a fun evening. Randy told me he was 33, and had spent more than half his life touring the country with circuses. He had a kind of comedy strongman act, under the name of The Pocket Hercules. Through careful saving and some wise investment he had managed to buy his loft. He told us some very amusing stories about life under the big top, and by the time we finished our meal I was laughing uproariously.
The two ladies cleared the dishes away, refusing to allow me to help, then Randy passed round a silver cigarette box. As I pulled on my cig, I noticed it had an unusual flavor, unlike any tobacco I’d sampled before. I mentioned it, and Randy nodded, and said, “Yeah, they’re Turkish. Imported especially by a friend of mine.” As I drew on the strange cigarette, with its slightly earthy, somehow oily, taste, the combination of that and the champagne made my head swim. I noticed that my three companions seemed to be watching me closely. Strangely, they also seemed to have rainbow haloes of light around them. In fact everything in the room seemed so much brighter and more colorful than it had when I arrived. I giggled, thinking about the transition in the movie from sepia to brilliant color as Dorothy arrives in Oz. I took another deep lungful of smoke, then shook my head. “Whew, I think I’ve had too much champagne, I’d better get home. Thanks Randy, it’s been a lovely evening.”
Randy moved closer to me and smiled. “You don’t want to go home yet, honey. We’re having a good time. Let’s all move to the couch and talk.” Randy was still a couple of feet away from me, but I heard his voice so distinctly, as if he’d spoken loudly with his lips pressed to my ear. I really felt that I should get home; yet I meekly allowed Randy to draw me to my feet, and he and Mamie each took one of my arms. My skin tingled where they touched me.
They guided me to the couch, where I sat down with a thump. Randy sat close to me on my right, Mamie on my left. Little Rachel curled herself up at my feet, on the floor. I shuddered as Mamie began to stroke my hair. At the same moment Randy leaned in and kissed my ear, then stroked his tongue around its contours. It felt as if he’d applied a hot compress to my ear, as a warmth radiated from it and through my head. I became aware of Rachel removing my pumps, then she began to stroke my stockinged feet and ankles. I knew I shouldn’t be allowing this to happen; but I somehow couldn’t remember why not, and I couldn’t find any energy to stand and move away from the three of them.
Randy was now nibbling my earlobe, stroking my neck with a hand. Mamie’s lips were attached to my throat, and one of her little hands was stroking the bare flesh of my upper chest, as with the other she began to unbutton my dress. Rachel’s hands had moved up to my calves, kneading them as she kissed and licked the back of my knees, through my stockings. I felt every touch, every kiss and caress, more intensely than I’d ever felt anything before; they seemed to be sending rivers of electricity coursing through my body, to meet up in my belly, and flow down from there to my heated pussy.
Mamie had unbuttoned my dress all the way to my waist, and she and Randy eased me forwards on the couch and slipped it off my shoulders, down my arms and off. They slid the straps of my underslip down my arms too. Then I felt fumbling behind me, and my heavy breasts dropped slightly as my bra catch was released. At the same time, I was vaguely aware of Rachel’s hands on my thighs, then her small fingers unclipping my stockings from my suspender belt, and rolling them down my legs. Suddenly my boobies felt as if they had caught fire as two little mouths closed over them, Randy chewing on my right nipple, Mamie flicking the left with her tongue. At the same time she tickled her fingertips across my belly, making me shudder. I heard a load moan, right inside my head, in a voice that sounded a little like my own.
I felt Rachel lifting my legs onto the couch, then she pulled at my panties. Wanting to be polite and help her, I raised my tush to allow her to slide them off me. My dress and slip followed. A warm, soft tongue began to lick my inner thighs, inches from my smoldering pussy. My breasts were still alight from the mouths feasting on them. The moaning inside my head turned to something like a desperate wail. A moment later I felt the most incredible sensation I had experienced in my entire life up to that point: Rachel’s tongue traced the length of my slit, then wriggled inside me. I felt a wild explosion in my pussy, and began to writhe and groan constantly as I panted for breath. I was vaguely aware that my breasts were no longer being sucked. A moment later, I felt warm, chubby thighs rub against my cheeks, and from above me Mamie’s voice husked, “I’d like some of what you’re getting too, sugar.”
She was completely naked, and lowered her ginger twat to my mouth. Obediently I extended my tongue and licked her, then pressed it into her. She gave a long hiss and wiggled her hips to push herself more firmly onto my tongue. She had a slightly bitter taste, but I lapped at her like a kitty cat with a bowl of milk, and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure. Randy was naked too. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and saw he was standing watching the three of us, stroking his cock. To me, at that moment, it looked magnificent, like a great pink-brown sorcerer’s staff. I reached out a hand to touch it; Randy grabbed me, wrapped my fingers around his tool, and began pumping them rhythmically up and down it. It felt beautiful, warm and soft to the touch, but with a rod of solid steel buried within.
Down below Rachel was driving me wild with her fingers and tongue. She had begun to slide her fingers, in fact her entire hand, in and out of me, while her tongue and sharp little teeth played with my clitoris. Wave after wave of heat throbbed through me. I tried to give Mamie the same joy, licking hard at her, and reaching up to stroke her ass with my free hand. I heard Randy groan, and a moment later a hot, sticky liquid cascaded onto my arm. I don’t know if that’s what did it, but suddenly it felt as if a bomb had gone off in my loins. I positively screamed into Mamie’s pussy, my hips jerking wildly and stars exploding in my head as I experienced my first real orgasm. As Randy slumped back I used both my hands to pull Mamie hard down on my face and licked her with renewed vigor, then slipped one thumb into her pussy and found her own tiny clit. She gave a huge groan and ground herself against my face as she released, then fell forwards, her head resting on my belly and her hands lazily grasping my tits.
The champagne corks had barely stopped popping in my head from Rachel’s attention before I felt several hands easing me onto the floor, on my hands and knees. Randy moved behind me, and I felt his cock rubbing against my ass cheeks. For a moment I thought he was going to sodomize me, but then he pushed my knees wider apart with his feet and I felt a pressure on my pussy, before he slid his length inside me. He gripped my hips and began thrusting at me, with such power that it momentarily drove the breath from my lungs. As I began to heat up from my first fuck, Rachel moved in front of me, very close. She placed her hands on my head and pushed me down towards her pussy, covered in a mat of closely cropped black hair. She was so small she had to stand on tippytoe for me to reach, but after the pleasure she’d already given me I was determined to return the favor, and I eagerly dipped my tongue into her hole. Mamie sat on the couch watching, her fingers buried in her own snatch.
I could pretend now that I was still acting under the influence of the champagne and that funny cigarette at that point; but the truth is that I knew exactly what I was doing. A tiny part of my mind was horrified at the way I was debauching myself, but every other bit of me loved every second of it. As Randy pumped at me my loins began to boil, and I gasped into Rachel’s pussy as I licked her. She tasted much sweeter than Mamie, and I wanted to bury my tongue deep inside her. Resting my weight on an elbow I stretched my other hand around Rachel, grasping one of her butt cheeks. As I did, my middle finger slipped into her anal passage. I hadn’t intended it, but she wiggled more firmly onto my finger and, in her childlike voice, groaned, “Oh shit, baby, yeah!” Realizing how much she enjoyed that contact I drove my finger deep into her, right up to the third knuckle. She squealed in delight and ground her pussy harder against my face.
At that moment I felt my own pussy explode, and a kaleidoscope filled my eyes as I came on Randy’s prick. He kept right on humping me for a few seconds until, with one final great push and a deep grunt, he shot his load in me. As Randy withdrew from me I pulled Rachel to the floor, and really went to town on her pussy with my tongue. I screwed my finger around in her ass, and kneaded one of her baby breasts with my other hand. She came much more wetly than Mamie, and I felt a gush of liquid flood into her pussy, and into my mouth, as she squealed with release.
We were all a little breathless after that; we sprawled on the floor passing a can of beer between us, kissing and caressing pretty much indiscriminately. Despite his height Randy had a genuinely impressive physique, and I stroked his biceps and pecs with true admiration. I guess every girl has a soft focus image in her head of how she hopes to surrender her virginity. Mine certainly didn’t involve three midgets, two of them female; but I realized instinctively that I was experiencing one of the wildest nights of sex I would ever know, and I was determined not to feel any regrets.
When Randy began to ease me to my feet I kind of figured we were heading for the bedroom. In fact, he made me sit on the couch and pulled me forwards until I was supporting myself on my tailbone – the same position in which I’d seen him screwing the studio secretary. Sure enough, he stepped between my legs and, grinning up into my face, pushed his cock back inside me. Behind him I saw Rachel and Mamie going down on each other, each of them with her face between the other woman’s thighs, rocking and groaning together in mutual pleasure. As Randy fucked me this time, with no other immediate distractions, I appreciated his skill rather more than the first time, and began to moan as I felt another orgasm building inside me. I wrapped my legs tightly around him, pulling him into me. He muttered, “Oh yeah sugar, that’s it,” and began to thrust harder into me. I screamed as I came, and once again he outlasted me, continuing to screw me to a second orgasm before he finally filled my hole with his jizz again
We did all go to bed after that, supposedly to sleep. We did some sleeping; but we did a lot more besides. At one point we had the most incredible scene: as Randy fucked me from behind, I licked Rachel’s pussy and she in turn licked Mamie’s. Some time later I was awoken by the first rays of the morning sun shafting through the window. The other three slept on – Mamie with her head nestled between my thighs, Randy with his cock resting in the crack of my ass, and Rachel with her head on Mamie’s belly. I went home shortly afterwards, my pussy sore and throbbing and my tongue feeling as if something had died on it. I called in sick and spent the rest of the day in my own bed, catching up on my sleep and allowing my head to straighten itself out. I worried for a few days afterwards that Randy may have made me pregnant, but thankfully my period arrived right on schedule.
I never saw Randy or Mamie again. That day I called in sick was the last on the lot for the little people, and I didn’t exactly go searching out Randy’s loft. I saw Rachel again though. Two weeks after our orgy, the buzzer of my apartment sounded. By coincidence all my roomies were out at the time. When I opened the door, glanced down and saw Rachel standing there, I wondered for a moment how she’d found out where I lived, and what the hell she was doing there. Then her soulful eyes met mine, and we both knew. Without a word passing between us, I took her hand in mine, led her to my bedroom, and started removing my clothes.
We continued to see each other for two years. By that time I’d been ‘discovered’ – no casting couch involved – and had played my first big role, best friend to the female lead. It wasn’t much, yet, but my contract enabled me to afford my own little apartment in West Hollywood. I loved dipping my tongue into Rachel’s hot, tight pussy, and her hand was so small that he could easily fit it right inside me, deep-fisting me to some of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my entire life. I used to lick her all over, from her tiny black toes to her hairline. We both enjoyed rimming, and I would pull her butt hard to me, my tongue massaging her puckered anus, loving her sobs of pleasure, then she did the same for me. I don’t know if what we had between us was love. I was dating guys through that period too, but they were just hors d’ouevres compared to the banquet of Rachel. All I know is that, with all the other men and women I’ve slept with down the years, none has ever made me feel quite the way Rachel could.
Then one day she just didn’t show up at my apartment when she was supposed to. At first I was irritated, then I got mad. Then I started to worry. I often feared for Rachel: due both to her race and her size, she was such an obvious target for the wrong kind of crowd. I called her lodging house. There, a tearful lady told me that Rachel had been hospitalized with pneumonia. It had come on suddenly, and she hadn’t lasted the night. I cried for the next two days as I have never cried for any other living soul.
Even today, as I see out my final days, I can’t watch The Wizard of Oz without singing “Follow the yellow prick road”. My grandchildren used to love it when their naughty gramma did that. Now, they’re scandalized when I do in front of their own kids. If only they knew the true nature of their famous, beloved grandmother, boy, would they be in for a shock!