The Movie

by Patti Beckman

“Sure,” he said and stood her on her feet.

  They were waist deep in the water. His arms were still around her. Her dress had become no more than a wet film over her bare skin. Kirk’s arms tightened, pulling her even closer. Her flimsy, wet clothing gave her no protection from the burning contact of their bodies.

  They were on a deserted strip of the beach, alone and secluded here.

  Kirk’s smoldering gaze drained the strength from her. His strong thigh forced its way between her legs, then his legs squeezed her thigh in a tight embrace. His wet mouth came down on hers. The kiss burned from her mouth to the depths of her being. Her eyes were closed. Her mind swam; her senses reeled. When the demanding pressure of his lips eased, she gasped his name thickly.

  Quickly, with practiced skill, his fingers opened zippers, slipped garments from her shoulders. Her dress floated away in the surf. It was followed by his shirt, his trousers.

  Then not even wet clothing separated them. The contact of his naked body against hers was electrifying. Sensations she had not felt in two years exploded within her. Her arms clung to him with desperate hunger. Her legs went around his thighs. Her breath rasped in her throat. They kissed like that, standing in the surf. Then Kirk carried her to the beach at the rim of the water. Gently he laid her on the sand, then stretched out beside her. He tenderly pushed her wet hair back from her eyes and cheeks. His kisses formed a trail of fire down her cheeks to her wet shoulders, to her breasts that had become eager and taut.

  Then he pressed his cheek against hers, stroking her hair, and whispered, “Stay with me tonight, Natalie, for the good times we had.”

  Tears were burning her eyes. No, this was not fair! She felt his need for her, so intense he was trembling. But it had nothing to do with love. He had been dealt a dreadful blow today. His morale was at an all-time low ebb. He needed someone to hold onto, to be close, to help him through the long night. He had touched a very deep, basic part of her that responded to being needed. The heat he was arousing in her was all mixed up with compassion, memories, tenderness.

  And combined with all that, was her own hunger, dormant and repressed for two years, awakened in a furious conflagration that now consumed her.

  They made love on the beach.

  Later, Kirk found their wet garments, washed up by the waves. Then he carried her like a child in his strong arms up to the bed in his cabin where they were drenched in moonlight.

  Once again her breath strained in her throat as his caresses fanned the glowing coals into renewed fires. She felt his weight pressing her against the mattress. She cried out. Their moving bodies, painted silver by the moonlight, strained to be closer, closer. The world spun around her.

  For a while she was in her own universe with Kirk and then brilliant suns exploded around her.

  Long hours after Kirk was sleeping peacefully she lay in his arms, gazing at the sky through the window as stars began fading with the approach of dawn.

  In the cold aftermath of passion, she made an attempt at rational thought, trying to understand Kirk’s motives and her own. Kirk had needed her tonight. She had served a purpose, giving him comfort to keep him from drowning in depression. Getting drunk would probably have served the same purpose, she realized with a wave of angry humiliation and feeling of degradation.

  If she agreed to take the lead part in his production, it would only be a way of him using her again. All he really needed her for was to get studio backing. Kirk was utterly ruthless. As far as he was concerned, love had nothing to do with it.

  Tonight he’d needed her body for escape into lust. Tomorrow he’d need her signature on the film contract so he could get to do his movie.

  Helpless tears trickled down her cheeks. She was the world’s worst patsy where Kirk Trammer was concerned. He didn’t love her. He never had. He was in love with someone he’d lost long ago—Jacqueline Davis. He was in love with this film production. He was in love with his own ego. Where was there room left for her?

  But in spite of all that, she knew with a hopeless feeling of resignation that she was going to accept the part in his film. Perhaps she had known it all along. There was no other way to save the production and to save Kirk’s future. For reasons beyond rational control, she had to do that for Kirk. She was motivated by an emotion stronger than logical thinking.

  Was she still in love with Kirk? She had tried to convince herself otherwise. She had blamed tonight’s surrender on passion. For two years, she had lived a celibate life. Kirk had awakened starved, primitive hungers. She had been vulnerable and he’d known it and had taken advantage of her.

  She found a kind of safety in believing that was what happened. It was frightening to think that her feelings went much deeper, that she was actually still in love with Kirk. She had done her best to harden her heart against Kirk, to build a wall around her feelings and to shut him out. But could she be lying to herself? She couldn’t bear the thought of Kirk’s disappointment. She was willing to make almost any sacrifice to give him his big chance to produce this film that meant so much to him. She must still care for him a great deal to feel this way.

  Yes, she was going to call Sam Kasserman tomorrow and tell him she changed her mind and would take the part. But she made herself a fervent vow. There were going to be no more reruns of what had happened here tonight. From now on until the film was completed, their relationship was going to be strictly professional and impersonal.

  To make certain of that...to be sure she would not again let physical desire for Kirk’s lovemaking gain the upper hand and to insure herself against this continuing aftermath of heartbreak, she was going to be strong and end this farce of a marriage once and for all.

  Tomorrow she was going to instruct her lawyer to begin divorce proceedings.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Natalie braced herself for a stormy session when she revealed her plans to her agent.

  Ira Bevan’s reaction ran the gamut from tearful dismay to near apoplectic fury. “I knew it!” the wizened old agent stormed, pacing in agitated circles. “I knew Kirk Trammer and that bunch of USC friends of yours were going to suck you into this thing. I warned you, didn’t I? Tell me if I didn’t warn you!”

  “Yes, you did, Ira.” Natalie sighed patiently. She knew from experience there was no point in discussing the matter in rational terms until Ira had finished exploding.

  For the next several minutes, Bevans carried on a heated monologue that ranged from disastrous predictions about Natalie’s Hollywood career to black threats on the life of Kirk Trammer. Finally spent, he gulped a glass of fizzing antacid and collapsed into his desk chair, mopping his glistening forehead.

  “Ira, you shouldn’t get so worked up,” Natalie said gently. “One of these days you’re going to have a stroke.”

  “Sure, sure. Better I should be dead than see you in this kind of mess,” he grumbled.

  “It isn’t a mess, Ira. The Last Encounter is a strong story and Sam Kasserman at Continental Films is willing to back the production if I take the leading female role.”

  “Sure, Kasserman wants it,” Ira muttered. “With Natalie Brooks in it, he could sell it to an audience of penguins. Is he going to let Kirk direct?”

  “That’s part of the deal.”

  Ira shook his head. “That I want to see. Kasserman hates Kirk Trammer. Do you know Kirk threw Sam off the set when he was filming The Two of Us? I mean literally. It was on a barge tied up in the Hudson River. Sam came nosing around, making suggestions how to handle a scene. Kirk threw him overboard. Sam had to swim to shore. Everybody was laughing. Sam’s never forgiven Kirk for that.”

  “I’ve heard the story.” Natalie nodded.

  Ira went on. “The parent corporation in New York hates Kirk even more because of all the money he cost the company. More to the point, David Clawson, head executive of the corporation, hates Sam Kasserman and wants his head—which he’ll get if this turns out to be another Kirk Trammer bomb.”

  “Well, Sam Kasserma
n must think it will go or he wouldn’t take the chance. He didn’t get to be the head of the Continental studios by being dumb, Ira.”

  “Can’t you see, Natalie, it hinges on you? Your latest film, the one they just released, Never Tomorrow, is going to make the studio a pile of money. Right now your name is on the top of the list over at Continental. Sam knows it. David Clawson knows it. Most of all, Kirk Trammer knows it.”

  Ira’s verbal sword hit the spot that hurt the most, deep in Natalie’s heart. She was all too aware that Kirk’s sole interest in her was the door she could open for his production. Blinking back tears, she thought it was cruel of Ira to hit below the belt like that.

  “Ira, that’s between Kirk and me,” she said through stiff lips. “Anyway, I’ve got more than that at stake. We’re setting up a production company. Bill and Sally Dentmen will write the script. Ginny Wells is going to handle special effects. Linda Towers will edit. Kirk will produce and direct. I want you to have our lawyers draw up the necessary papers.”

  Ira shook his head gloomily. “I hate to think where all this is going to lead. You’re getting yourself in quicksand, Natalie. You’re an actress. Why not stick to what you do so well? Motion picture production is a crapshoot. What if this turns out to be another dud like The Two of Us? You could spend a year in preproduction, shooting and editing the thing and then Continental decides not to release it? A year of your career gone down the drain....”

  A lot more than that, she thought sadly, considering the price she was going to pay in heartache.

  But not to do it meant dashing Kirk’s hope to make a comeback and she couldn’t bear that, either.

  She rose. “Well, I’ve given it all a lot of thought, Ira, and I’ve made my decision. Please start to work on the necessary agreements and contracts.”

  “All right,” the agent said with an expression of morose resignation. “But I want to go on record that I warned you against this.”

  Before the actual preproduction work could begin, there had to be numerous conferences, meetings and legal fencing. There was a period of wrangling between lawyers, agents and studio executives, for a motion picture today is first of all a business deal.

  Natalie was well aware of the fact that back in the days when the big studios had total control of the motion picture industry, pictures were turned out in a kind of assembly-line production. Everything was done within the closed circle of the studio complex. Actors and writers were under long-term contract to the studios. The production crews, sound stages, special effects, back lots were all part of the production line from beginning to end. The studio acquired movie rights to a book or an original screenplay, turned it over to its writers, selected a cast from the actors it had under contract or borrowed from another studio, and oversaw the production to its completion. When the films were done, they were distributed to movie-house chains owned by the studios.

  The industry began to change in the 1940s when courts ruled against the monopolistic arrangement and divested the studios of their chains of movie houses. Then along came television in the 1950s and Hollywood was never again the same. The studios could no longer afford to keep highly paid stars under long-term contracts. Large back lots became a financial liability. Films were shot more and more on. location. Special effects, which had once been one of the studios’ departments, were now often handled by independent specialists.

  For the most part, picture making had evolved into a one-shot deal. Each motion picture production was an individual project between the studio and producer, director and actors.

  In spite of the changes, the major studios were still the main factor in the making of motion pictures. When a deal was struck with a producer the studio might furnish most of the financing. The producer and his crew moved in and used some of the studio’s facilities, the sound stages and equipment during the filming of the motion picture. And when it had been edited and was ready for release, it would be the studios who handled distribution. In that area, the studios remained as powerful as ever.

  Before real work on the production could begin, the story synopsis had to be expanded into a complete script. “Give us six weeks,” Bill Dentmen promised. “We’ll burn a lot of midnight oil.”

  Natalie fled to the East Coast during that time to avoid Kirk. She returned to Hollywood when she got a call from her cousin, Ginny, that the Dentmens had completed the script and a conference to cast the principals had been scheduled.

  The meeting was held in Sam Kasserman’s office at the Continental studios. When Natalie entered the room that morning she came face-to-face with Kirk for the first time since that night she had slept with him in the Malibu beach house.

  The room was filled. The Dentmens were there as were Ginny Wells and Linda Towers; Natalie’s agent, Ira Bevans; and, seated at his throne, the vast mahogany desk, flanked by vice-presidents and lawyers, Sam Kasserman.

  Seeing Kirk again was an unnerving experience for Natalie. He moved to her side, his intense, hazel-eyed gaze moving over her with an intimate look that had all of her nerve ends tingling.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he said in a low, angry voice.

  “I’ve been out of town,” she replied nervously.

  “So I gathered.” His gaze burned into her like a deadly laser. “Were you in hiding?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “You pulled a pretty good disappearing act. I called your agent, all of your friends. Nobody would tell me where you were.”

  She shrugged. “I flew East for a few days.”

  His voice was harsh. “I assumed that. I tried a few calls in that direction with no luck. When you go into seclusion you do a good job of it.”

  “Why were you trying to reach me?”

  He raised an eyebrow, giving her a searching look that made her knees quiver. “I’ve been advised by your attorney that you’ve filed for divorce.”

  She swallowed hard. She had been dreading this moment. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

  Kirk’s frown was a dark thundercloud. “Were you that disappointed with our lovemaking on the beach?”

  “Kirk, be quiet. Somebody is going to hear you.”

  “Hear what? That I made love to my own wife?” He smiled bitterly. “Maybe that would create a scandal in today’s society. Anyway, I cannot understand why you would file for divorce and pull a disappearing act after that night. It was like a regular second honeymoon, don’t you agree?”

  Her face was burning. His words awoke the memory of that night of passion, sending a flash of heat through her body. She suddenly became aware of the fabric of her dress brushing her thighs, the tightening of her nipples against a bra that suddenly seemed too small. She swallowed hard, trying to quiet the hurried tempo of her pulse. When she replied, her voice was thick, betraying the churning emotions he had aroused in her. “Kirk, shut up. This is a business meeting.”

  She turned away from him abruptly, walking over to greet her friends and her agent.

  Then Kasserman took control of the meeting, saying, “All right, let’s see if we can put this thing together.”

  By now the Dentmens had delivered the completed script. Numerous photocopies had been made, bound, and sent around to various departments. Department heads were breaking the pages down into sets and props and travel costs. It was obvious that the studio intended to keep extremely close tabs on this production.

  Now it was time for the creative people to find actors for the principal roles in the cast. It was firmly established and agreed by all concerned that Natalie would play the part of Rebecca Abrahms, the Israeli news correspondent.

  The other two major roles, Clay Winters, the space scientist hero-protagonist and Nichole Nikova, the beautiful Russian agent, had to be selected. Also an actor had to be chosen to play the role of Komen Assarat, the villain, the story menace who had taken control of an oil rich Mideastern country and developed the capability of destroying the protective space station. Another important role was th
at of Clay Winters’s boss and mentor, the head scientist of the space program, a dignified older man named Jerome Ambers.

  Kirk, with his customary, brash self-assurance immediately took the floor. “Since I’ve been carrying this story around in my mind for months, I can see the part of Clay Winters clearly. I want Jerry Rhodes in the part.”

  “Rhodes?” Kasserman exclaimed incredulously. “I hope you’re not serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious!” Kirk said, bristling. “I know my own story. Rhodes would be terrific in the role.”

  “What do you mean, terrific? The guy is a nobody. Whoever heard of him except a few avant-garde movie buffs? Listen, this is an expensive picture. I can’t put a nobody in the lead role.”

  The meeting had just begun and already Kirk and Kasserman were close to yelling at each other.

  Natalie gazed at the two men. The air fairly crackled with the electrified clash of two powerful personalities.

  Behind his desk, Kasserman was the image of imperious self-assurance. His mane of wavy silver hair was a contrast to the deep country club tan, his costly grooming, tailored gray suit, imported shoes, heavy gold bracelet. It all gave him a regal air, the look of an executive who wielded tremendous power.

  Natalie thought that Kasserman’s blood red silk necktie probably cost more than Kirk’s entire wardrobe. As usual, Kirk wore scuffed Western boots, a sport shirt, a rumpled leather jacket. His mop of bushy, dark hair looked uncombed. But he had a lanky, rangy physical strength like a coiled lariat that had a primitive energy force equal in every respect to Kasserman.

  For her part, seeing Kirk in action awakened an inner heat like coals being fanned. She couldn’t drag her gaze from him. The blazing intensity in his eyes sent an electric charge down her spine.

  Against her will, Natalie responded to the power of his dynamic personality as much as to his physical appeal. She was aware of the quickened rush of blood through her temples. Everyone in the Continental studios complex from vice-presidents down to janitors were intimidated and awed by the all-powerful studio head, Sam Kasserman. Not so Kirk Trammer. If anything, there was an element of disdain in Kirk’s attitude as if, being totally confident of his own artistic and creative ability, he held the studio head somewhat in contempt.