by Saber Vale
I decided to fly out and see how it was working, even though I could have easily managed it with a few phone calls. I thought I could clear my head, stay away from Selma for a little while.
On the set of the other movie, I felt good, like myself again. I like working, like talking to directors, like straightening out problems that aren’t part of my personal life. I kept myself focused on sorting things out on set during the day and went to bed early. I got up early so I could run through some beautiful Icelandic country roads early in the morning, where I could see provincial shepherds taking their sheep out to pasture and people driving carts full of hay pulled by horses.
It was… quaint, I guess.
It calmed me down and made me feel oddly peaceful, and I wondered if that was how Selma’s life had been, quiet and peaceful, before she moved to Los Angeles. I felt another little quiver of something, but I let it go. I knew I should probably go fuck one of the girls working in the movie. I could probably walk into any dressing room on the set and turn the girl inside over her couch and have my way with her, without the promise of a part, without anything but a look, a suggestion. They didn’t just want parts, they wanted me, because of who I was, what I could do, what I represented.
I went to the bar near the set that night and ran into some of of the extras and bit-actors, wh were hanging out. Two of the girls, right away, seemed to attach to me. I let them hang off of me, annoyed, knowing they expected me to take one of them back to the hotel room. I looked them both over. Brunette and blond, slender and small-famed, or curvy with tits like grapefruits, both of them with long, straight hair and worked on faces. Take your pick. I didn’t catch their names because I didn’t care to hear them.
When I left the bar, they followed.
In my hotel room I collapsed into my bed, wishing I hadn’t brought them back.
“I don’t feel like fucking you,” I said with a shrug, “but you can fuck each other while I watch.”
“Uh, ok, Mr. Darke,” the blonde one said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss the dark haired girl, who nervously complied. They kissed for a moment while I watched.
“Uh, dark hair, what’s your name?”
“Suzette,” the dark haired girl said, smiling nervously.
“Suzette, I want you to slap blondie… uh…”
“Erin,” the blond said, “and did you say…”
Just like that the brunette, Suzette, slapped Erin across the face and then kissed her again, pulling her hair to move her close.
“That’s right,” I said, my voice quiet, “make it rough.”
Suzette nodded and slapped Erin again, and then pushed her back in the bed. To my surprise she straddled Erin’s pouty little pink mouth and made her lick her, service her, reaching back to twist the blonde girl’s small pink nipples as I watched. Erin writhed and licked, unsure of herself and nervous as she serviced the shapely blonde that sat on top of her face. I leaned back, turned on, as Suzette bucked her hips and moaned. After she came she knelt between Erin’s knees and fingered her roughly, licking her clit in long strokes while she reached up with her free hand and twisted her nipples.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Erin whined, her whole body shaking, Suzette’s fingers slamming in and out of her, her tongue hard at work. I couldn’t stop myself, I knelt beside Erin and pulled out my cock, stroking it next to her face until I came, a thick load of my seed onto her open, glossy pink lips.
Finally Erin came too, and both girls snuggled up in bed, both of them moving towards me.
“Honestly, ladies,” I said with a sigh, “I have a big day tomorrow, if you could see yourselves out that would be great.”
They were disappointed, but compliant. I was happy to see them leave. I felt nothing. I went to sleep.
I stayed there for a week and a half. Running, working, running, working, sleeping in a sterile scandinavian hotel room where I didn’t understand the language on the TV. I didn’t see the two girls again, or anyone else for that matter, and returned to my normal state of steady, focused numbness.
I knew it was time to return.
I flew back in on a Sunday and got to my house at almost midnight. I was tired, but I wanted to fuck. I hadn’t gotten really, properly laid since the last time I’d been with Selma, for what reason I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like me to ignore the smorgasbord of women on a film set. I flipped through my phone looking at names of girls, I had a special folder of up-and-coming actresses who I’d either fucked or were on my list, and I landed on Ginger Dukes, a redhead with a sloppy drinking problem who had given me head about two minutes after meeting me the first time, on a film set in New York a few months before.
I typed out “are you back in LA?” on my phone, thinking I’d bring her out in an Uber for a quick hookup, but stopped. The truth was I didn’t want to deal with her. I was tired. I had to run in the morning. The thought of fucking her, worst of all, was completely… boring to me.
I set down my phone and turned off my light, staring out at the moon, clear and bright through my window. I thought I’d gotten myself back to normal, but if I was my usual self, wouldn’t I be waiting on some B-list actress to come give herself to me, to cater to my every whim? I sighed. What the fuck was going on with me?
The next day I ran, I answered emails, and then I showed up on the set of Sundown City, where I knew I might run into Selma. I had to talk to Martin about some promotional choices we were making, and a part of me, a part of me I wanted to shake, wanted to see her.
She’d said that I should break her.
Maybe I would. Maybe if she hated me, I could stop thinking about her. The thought brought me comfort, and finally, imagining I was free of thinking of her, I fell asleep.
Chapter 4
Shooting on the film started, and I was a jumble of nerves. The movie was set in San Francisco during the 1960’s and I was playing a small town girl turned prostitute over the course of the film, which started in the summer of love and ended three years later, with my lover dead and me returning to the small Iowa town I’d come from.
I tried not to think too hard about the irony, and just got into my role, playing opposite Colin, who was playing a hard-up beat poet who was addicted to heroin drawing me into his underworld with charm and a promise of freedom, only to ruin my life. It was supposed to be a vehicle for Colin to win his first oscar, and would launch my career if things went well.
After wrapping up one day, as I left my dressing room, I saw that Keller was on set talking to Melvin. He’d needed to leave the country to work on another movie, and I hadn’t seen him since shooting began. The moment we locked eyes my breath left my body and I felt a complete shock of emotion- desire and fear, namely. He gestured for me to come over.
“So, we’ll catch up tomorrow,” he said, shaking Martin’s hand.
“Sounds good,” said the man who’d been directing me, “and by the way, you couldn’t have picked a better Annie.”
“Oh, Keller said, as though almost surprised, “she’s doing well?”
“The best,” Martin said, “a real pro.”
I blushed.
“Good to hear,” Keller said, like he wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Martin was called away and Keller gestured that I should follow him.
“Do you want to go get a drink?” he asked, “I’ve been having a long day.
“Oh, uh, of course,” I said, smiling brightly.
I was, in spite of myself, thrilled.
We went to a Beverly Hills bar where I ordered a glass of sparkling wine and he ordered a beer. For a few moments we sat in silence.
“Filming is going well?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, it’s great!” I said, smiling, “I’m… honestly so happy.”
“Good, that’s good,” he said, distracted.
“So, I talked about myself a lot last time we went out,” I said cautiously, “and you didn’t tell me anything about yourself.”
“That’s because I asked you
a lot of questions,” Keller said, “and I don’t like talking about myself.”
“Ok, but could you just tell me where you’re from?” I asked, leaning into him. His crisp smelling aftershave was intoxicating.
“I’m from New York,” he said, “I grew up between there and Johannesburg South Africa, where my dad is from.”
“Wow, I guess that explains the accent,” I said, “ but that’s not what I expected.”
“It was fine, I was in boarding school in Switzerland from a pretty early age, so I don’t think of anywhere as home except for L.A.”
I wondered why he was suddenly opening up to me.
“Do you get along with your parents?”
“Well, that would be hard since they’re both dead,” he said with a careless shrug.
“I’m sorry,” I said, sort of shocked at his casualness.
“My mom died at forty six, liver cirrhosis, while I was at boarding school, which wasn’t a surprise considering her drinking, and my dad was in a plane crash while hunting defenseless endangered animals in the Congo.”
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” I said.
Keller laughed.
“You wouldn’t be if you knew them,” he said, “now can we stop talking about dead people I hate and finish our drinks? I want to go back to your place and fuck you until you’re begging for mercy.”
I stared, shocked at him. How could he talk about his dead parents one second and then fucking me the next? It occurred to me how very, very damaged Keller Dark may actually be.
We didn’t speak on the way to my apartment, but I felt a now familiar sense of dread as we drew closer. I hated letting people see my pathetic little studio, and I didn’t want to let him in, but he gave me no choice, saying he didn’t have time to get a room.
“Besides,” he said, “I want to see where you live.”
That was, I realized, exactly what I was afraid of.
As soon as we stepped into my apartment, he had his arms around me, pulling off my clothes and pressing his warm lips against my neck. The lights were off and I was grateful. He pushed me onto my bed, pulled off his shirt, and turned me over onto my belly, pulling my panties down to my ankles and using them to tie them together.
He slid two fingers inside of me and started to push them in and out, making me squirm, making me want him, his cock, everything.
“Keller...” I said, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I felt his thumb press against my clit.
“Shh,” he said, “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, you slut.”
“Mmm,” I moaned, as he covered my mouth with his hands.
He had already made me wet and he knew it. He smiled his sneer-like smile at me, knowing he was in complete control, and fingered me harder, faster, rubbing my clit as I breathed and trembled and collapsed, coming hard.
That was what he’d been waiting for. He dropped his pants and, kneeling behind me, pushed his thick, beautiful cock inside of me.
He fucked me like an animal, like he could care less who I was, that I wanted him, that he’d taken my virginity not very long before. My face was against the bed, my hips lifted up towards him, his hands on me, tight and strong.
“I want to come in your mouth,” he said finally, pulling out so that he could turn me around, grab me by my hair, and force me to open my mouth for him, looking up at him as he stroked a few times and came onto my open lips.
“Good girl,” his breathed into my ear, pulling me close to him.
“You can stay,” I said weakly, knowing he wouldn’t.
Keller flipped on the light beside my bed.
He looked around my apartment for the first time, and suddenly I felt extremely embarrassed. It was so small and pathetic, tiny bed, hardly any other furniture or decorations. I didn’t even have a closet, just a little clothing rack.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing why I was apologizing.
“It’s fine, you gotta start somewhere,” he said, but I knew he was thinking something about it. I thought of how he’d always been rich. Was he, I wondered, disgusted with me? Did he really think that I was some poor girl he could use and throw away?
“Anyway, no, I can’t stay the night,” he said, getting up, “your place is fine, don’t be embarrassed. When the money from the movie comes in, you’ll be able to move out.”
I thought about the farm, how my first paycheck would go straight to my parents. They would protest, but I wouldn’t give them a choice. I would be staying in the tiny apartment for the foreseeable future.
Keller got up to go, but there was an awkwardness, like he wanted to kiss me, but he didn’t know if he should.
“When will I see you again,” I asked, trying to break the tension.
“This week, I’ll be on set,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.
It was obvious that he was distracted by something, bothered even.,
“Good,” I said, “I like seeing you, Keller.”
Keller sighed and looked at me pityingly, then left without another word.
I opened my window to let in some night air, and listened to traffic and people and dogs barking. Los Angeles was such a big city, and I knew there were so many people filled with desperate hopes and dreams, so many beautiful women who would do anything for fame. I saw the lights of his Audi in the street, pulling away into the darkness, back into his elevated, more beautiful world, where nobody lived in small, charmless apartments. I wondered how someone like me could ever be special to someone like Keller, someone who, in L.A. at least, seemed to rule the world.
Darke
What the fuck was I doing?
I drove for a long time, longer than I needed to, up Mulholland drive, into the hills. I didn’t like the apartment Selma was staying in. For one thing, it was in a dangerous neighborhood, which I wasn’t even sure she realized. For another, it really was depressing. She’d made it as cute as possible, with little framed pictures of her parents on the cracking stucco walls, and a few wild flowers in a recycled glass jar next to the bed. I knew she was broke, but I hadn’t realized she was as broke as she clearly was.
Back at my house I was disturbed by how much I was thinking of her. I needed, I realized, to start fucking someone else, to move on before I got anymore stuck than I already was. I don’t like worrying about people, I never do.
I decide if someone is useful to me, and I use them or I don’t.
In show business, usually, it’s a mutually understood arrangement. Sometimes someone loses, feels used, but that’s not my problem. It only means they miscalculated their value to me.
Part of me wasn’t sure that Selma was calculating. Part of me thought she actually cared about me, had feelings, and the thought made my skin crawl. I resented her for it, and thought about what I could do to destroy her innocence, to make her see me for who I really was.
She needed money, and I could give her money. I’d given her the job. She needed a better place to stay, so I could get her that too. What I couldn’t, wouldn’t give her, was any part of myself. The sooner she learned that, the better.
I finally got home and my house, for the first time, seemed cold and dark. I walked in and wished for a horrible moment I was still with Selma, in her shitty full-sized bed in that tiny apartment where you could easily hear the traffic outside.
I shuddered at the thought.
No, I reminded myself, I was Keller Darke, and I belonged here, alone, in a mansion overlooking the Hollywood hills. I hated the thought of worrying about Selma, about anyone. When I left for college at UCLA, I made my escape from my deranged father and the hazy memory of my drunk, always crying or passed out mother. I knew then that I’d never let anyone make me vulnerable ever again. I’d escaped more than just a shitty family. I’d escaped feelings, love, and all of the pain that goes along with them. I wasn’t ever going back.
The next day, tired from staying up so late and getting up so early for my run, I found myself almost furious. Furious w
ith myself for letting things get out of control. Furious at Selma for walking into my office. I knew I couldn’t let things go any further. I’d really start to push her, to hurt her. I had to follow through and show her exactly how little I cared.
I had to break her down.
Chapter 5
Filming for the movie went on, and Colin, the other star, found his way into my dressing room more and more often. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was put on edge by the attentions of a handsome movie star, but it made me worried to have Collin flirt with me. We had great chemistry on set and when we were filming, but after the camera stopped rolling I was really trying to keep to myself, keep my head down, not mess up this chance I was getting at success.
We had a sex scene to film, and of course Keller came on set for that.
All actors say how awkward sex scenes are- the flesh colored panties, the nudity in a cold studio, having thirty people, gaffers and camera people, prop managers makeup artist and costume people, all looking at you.
I felt only Keller’s eyes, though, as Collin kissed me and ran his hands over my body. Collin’s touch was unsure and soft, almost tedious, compared to Keller’s firm, steady hand. Of course we were filming a movie, but I couldn’t help but long for Keller’s touch, a touch I’d missed for almost a week, as he seemed busy night after night.