He made a short, circular motion with his index finger. Keep rolling. They hadn’t had a lot of time for rehearsal but he was one hundred per cent certain his leading lady was not in real distress.
Gary gave Kara a sharp smack on each cheek of her bum. ‘Spread ’em baby, or I’ll spread ’em for you.’
Make that ninety per cent.
Kara sniffled and knelt up nicely, her elbows on the brushed fake suede of the sofa, her knees and thighs surrounded by netting and crepe. The look she gave Gary, over her shoulder, was wide-eyed and reproachful.
‘Please, husband … don’t hurt me.’
Gary grinned. He licked his lips. He parted the cheeks of her ass with his hands, exposing Kara’s pink asshole. He sat back, as if admiring it, giving camera two ample time to zoom in and hold on a tight close-up of her tight hole.
Luke nodded, Marion tapped, and camera two zoomed in.
‘Aww, baby, you know you can trust me,’ said Gary. He leaned in, teasing her hole with the tip of his tongue. ‘Doesn’t that feel just like a … like a rose petal, caressing your pretty little virgin hole, all soft and sweet?’
‘Ye– yes.’
‘Mm … gorgeous … every inch of you is so fucking gorgeous I feel … one minute I feel like I could … mm … I could lavish you with little kisses all day …’
Kara arched her back a little, presenting her bottom as Mrs Vixen might present hers to Mr Fox. Her head tilted back, as if his low, cooing praise was, like his tongue, imparting such a delicate sense that she needed to lean in a little to catch it.
‘… and the next –’ Gary fisted another dollop of lube onto his dick ‘– the next I want to roar with pride!’ He rolled back onto his heels, lifted an inch and jammed his cock to its hilt up Kara’s ass.
Kara screamed.
Gary roared.
Luke stepped back. Hadn’t Kara agreed to star in a porn shoot as long as it wasn’t ‘too kinky’? This stuff was so not in the script. He pointed at his ear. Marion tapped the soundman on his back. He nodded. She nodded.
Gary pulled almost all the way out.
Tears rolled down Kara’s cheeks. ‘Honey, it hurts, it hurts.’
‘Only for a minute, sweetcheeks,’ Gary said. ‘Trust me, baby.’
‘I do.’
‘There’s my girl. I do. Remember what you promised, now. I promise to love.’ He buried his cock in her ass in another smooth, hard stroke. This time his body dropped forwards, too, so that his chest was against her back and his arms and hands on either side of hers, keeping her in place.
‘Honour.’
Kara’s head dropped a little.
His mouth pressed up close to her ear.
‘And obey.’
Her head shuddered in three little nods. Her tears dripped straight down onto the brushed suede, staining it.
Luke motioned to Marion to let Paul, on camera two, know it was time to pull back a little, staying tight on the couple. It was nuts to shoot like this, one long take, but he was goddamned if he’d call ‘Cut.’ Camera one was getting the full picture. They could get all the pick-ups and cutaways they’d need, later, if Kara was really OK but if that poor chick was being forced by her boyfriend to take it up the ass for the cameras, he’d never get these shots unless he got them now. Which was one of the worst things he’d ever thought in his life, but he couldn’t dwell on that now.
Kara’s ass began to rotate.
Gary whispered, ‘You’re so brave.’
She mewled. Her hips rolled in tight little circles.
Gary leaned hard on his left arm and raised his right hand to tuck her damp hair behind her ear. ‘My brave, beautiful woman.’
Camera two was right there to shoot her wet face and messed up make-up and her pendant breasts, heaving with each shuddering breath she took.
‘Uh-huh,’ Kara muttered.
Camera one swivelled to capture Gary’s ass as his pace increased. His balls slapped Kara’s inner thighs with each stroke. Gary was humping her now. The fingers of his right hand pinched each of her nipples, hard, before dropping to her splayed lower lips to find and torture her clit.
Kara’s mutterings and mewlings grew in volume until they matched Gary’s roar in volume and intent.
‘Fuck my ass, then, if it’s so fucking important to you. Fuck me till you kill me, I don’t care. You’re my fucking husband, you pervert, you fucking animal!’
That’s it! Exactly what Emily and Luke wanted. Lovers, fucking like dogs. Christ!
Luke glanced at his crew. Oh Gods of Film, please let them be getting all this.
‘Yeah?’ Gary pounded into her. His left hand gripped the back of the sofa while his right continued torturing her clit. ‘You like it like this, baby?’
His hips drew back, slammed forwards. Again. Again.
‘Answer me, you slut, or I’ll stop right now.’
‘Don’t stop! Please! Don’t stop.’
‘I told you I wasn’t going to make you do something you don’t want, sweetheart. So, you want it?’
Again Kara’s head shuddered in a miniature nod.
Gary slowed. He withdrew his cock until all but the tip was free of her. ‘I can’t hear you, sweetheart.’
‘I fucking love it! I love it when you fuck me up the ass. OK?’
‘OK!’
Gary pummelled Kara’s stretched asshole until her moans, protests and demands fused into one long, loud, unintelligible groan.
‘So –’ Gary panted between words ‘– close.’
His pace slowed.
Fuck. Don’t let him run out of steam now. Luke shot Marion a helpless look. Was he as red-faced as she was? He nodded.
Marion tapped Paul on his shoulder.
Camera two moved in for the money shot.
Kara threw her head back. ‘Yes! Yes! Fuck!’
Gary slowed a little more, thrusting at an even, medium pace.
Kara ground her ass against his crotch at the end of each stroke. She pounded the sofa with her fists. Tears flowed. Her mouth hung open, loose and wet, as her shrieks dropped to moans and her moans to little peeps of pleasure.
‘OK, baby?’ Gary stroked her back.
Kara nodded.
‘OK, baby!’ Gary thrust hard and fast, three times, then gripped her hips with both hands and roared.
Money shot, money shot …
Gary jerked his cock from Kara’s ass and slapped it onto her back where it pulsed, spewing cream with each one.
‘I … I love you, Mrs Bottomsby,’ he said.
His cock slid off her back and drooped between his legs. He pressed his chest to her back. He licked the sweat from the right side of her neck.
Kara turned her head. ‘I love you too, Mr Bottomsby,’ she said.
They kissed.
And kissed.
And kissed.
‘Cut,’ said Luke.
The cameras stopped filming; the sound stopped rolling.
Kara and Gary stopped kissing.
Marion stepped forwards. ‘Kara, are you … are you OK?’
Kara frowned.
‘Yeah,’ said Luke. ‘Because you did say you didn’t want to do anything too kinky. So, I mean, I know you knew what the script was about but if you weren’t comfortable I need you to let me know right now and I’ll make sure it never happens again.’
Kara and Gary collapsed on the sullied wedding dress, laughing like idiots.
Kara managed to sputter, ‘Luke, honey, anal sex doesn’t count as kinky.’ She wiped her face on Gary’s chest hair. ‘Gary and I fuck like that all the time!’
Chapter Ten
Emily remained standing on the bus while Luke and Tony took seats. It wasn’t a case of them not offering her a free seat. Em was wearing a white summer power suit made of one hundred per cent linen, a ‘stand-up’ suit. She’d sit when they got to the meeting. She glanced down at her platform peep-toe sandals. There was that toe cleavage Luke had taught her about. Her legs were white; she hadn�
��t been willing to risk a fake tan and lounging in the sun was not on the cards for this particular summer. Still, pale though they may be, they were long and her ankles were, or so she’d been told, delicate. A light pink cami, in keeping with the season’s mania for pastels, completed her look. She wore very little make-up. It was the paradox of sexy and lovely that she wanted to sell so she’d decided to start making the point the moment she entered the meeting.
Essentially, it was vital that Tony’s uncle, Vito Manero, buy their set of six short porn movies. Em could only hope Tony really was on their side and hadn’t told his uncle how desperately the fledgling porn company needed money. They could shoot as many sexy little movies as they wanted and it would do them no good without distribution.
It was the last Friday in July. Only Luke remained in school, learning how to shoot sixty-second commercials and sports events during the day and directing NAIL short porn flicks at night.
A few of the cast and crew had left when the school year ended, but Luke and his roommates had stayed in their big house close to the campus. They always did, since they had to pay rent on their rooms during the summer months anyway, or lose them. This summer, however, most of them worked full-time for NAIL, instead of finding secure jobs. Even those who’d left had been asked to return on 1st August for a blitz of production before the first semester of their final year commenced. So everyone involved with NAIL was making a leap of faith and Emily was fully, achingly aware of the risk.
Emily waitressed at Bailey’s six nights a week. She worked on NAIL six days a week. True to his word, Blaine had handed Emily a shell company his father had given him and Emily had completed the tedious work of turning it into a film production company. Naked And In Love Productions Limited still needed a proper logo, but the company was established and registered.
On Sundays, she and Luke were supposed to forget about everything and spend the day together, but it was getting more and more difficult to turn it off and she knew Luke felt the same.
Sometimes they simply slept all day and shared a simple dinner. Other times they actually managed to make love. No matter how hard Em laid down the law, her apartment was always a disaster so part of the day had to be spent doing housework, which she, in particular, resented. Bad enough she only had three uniforms for a six night a week gig, making laundry and ironing a must. She didn’t think she should have to mop up after her crew like a janitor. However, since most of them were receiving what amounted to an allowance for their constant hard work, none seemed willing to don the janitor’s cap, either.
Most Sundays, if they had time, Luke and Em went for a walk and talked business. It couldn’t be helped. Their future and the futures of their friends weighed heavily on them both.
Tony stood. Emily picked up her soft leather briefcase and she and Luke followed him off the bus. They walked in silence. It was a newly developed area, mainly industrial strip plazas, monotonous red brick. The one they wanted was mainly two storey, with five-storey ‘one tenant’ buildings at each corner. Manero Triple X Adult Film Distribution was one of them. Five floors in a new plaza? Business had to be good.
They entered, single file, Emily and her briefcase, which contained six half-hour NAIL Productions Ltd films of varying degrees of quality, in the middle.
Why did she feel like a criminal? There was nothing illegal going on here. Even the revolting pseudo-rape anal sex tape was a performance by consenting adults.
She dredged up the memory of an interview Sir Laurence Olivier had done. He and the series he’d done the interview for were old but his words rang as true as ever. In answer to a complicated question by the understandably nervous young interviewer, Sir Larry had leaned back and replied, in that marvellous drawl he often employed for emphasis, ‘It’s called acting, dear boy.’
They were greeted by a receptionist with a Brooklyn accent. Right. Tony had mentioned her. Naturally, Manero had an office in New York and where he went his executive assistant went with him.
‘Welcome to Manero Triple X Adult Film Distribution,’ said the woman, largely through her perfect nose. Nose job. Christ. Emily was driving herself insane. She’d had a nose job, too. Although hers was, at least in part, because of a deviated septum …
The shit stops here.
With Olivier’s words ringing in her ears, she tilted up her chin, squared her shoulders, and became Ms Emily Forrester, Executive Producer of NAIL.
‘Good afternoon –’ she glanced at the name plate on the woman’s desk, although Tony had already told her what it was ‘– Melody. We’re from NAIL Productions Limited. Emily Forrester and Luke Rayellton. I think you already know –’
‘Tony, my baby!’ Melody leaped to her feet. Her bosom was magnificent, but not overtly displayed. Emily decided not to hold it against her. As far as she could tell, those tits were the real thing. Melody tottered in stilettos and a pencil skirt around her desk to capture Tony in an effusive embrace that made Bobby’s Brazilian greeting seem standoffish in comparison.
Tony grinned at Emily and Luke over Melody’s shoulder. His eyebrows lifted as if to say, What can I do but accept it?
After what seemed an appropriate amount of time had passed, Emily cleared her throat. ‘We have an appointment with Mr Manero for three o’clock?’
‘Right. Right!’ Melody released Tony. He straightened himself and took a deep breath, with the grin of a village idiot plastered on his face.
‘Walk this way,’ said Melody. She opened a door and minced through it.
Tony did the same, right down to the mince.
Luke grinned.
‘Don’t think I don’t know what your doin’, Tony,’ said Melody. ‘You’re not so big I can’t put you over my knee.’
‘Promises, promises.’ Tony sighed.
Luke laughed.
Emily was already looking past them, at the man behind the desk; the man who held all of their futures in his hands.
Make this happen.
She kept her eyes locked on Vito Manero while Melody presented him with his nephew and ‘friends’.
Manero gave Tony a hug and Luke a handshake but his eyes were locked on Emily’s, too.
‘Emily Forrester, Executive Producer of Naked And In Love Productions Limited.’
‘Vito Manero of Manero Triple X Adult Film Distribution. Everybody, take a seat!’
They did, with Emily furthest to the right, putting her as close to the man in the power seat as possible. She flipped open the top of her case and crossed her ankles. Mr Manero was nothing like she’d expected. She tried to avoid stereotyping but, in his case, she’d failed. He sold porn, for goodness’ sake! He had no business having freshly coifed iron-grey hair, aquiline features and a broad-shouldered trim body. He wasn’t even wearing pastel polyester, as she’d imagined. His Armani suit was charcoal barathea and his Sulka tie matched, but with narrow stripes of dove grey.
After declining coffee and tea and accepting bottled water, the three representatives of the neophyte film company received a short, solid education in the business of porn production.
When he stressed ‘legality’, Emily placed the NAIL Productions Ltd information on his desk. When he stressed ‘clean and adult’ actors she placed the sheaf of head shots and accompanying information of her cast beside the paperwork on NAIL.
So far, so good.
Once Melody delivered the bottled water and the three students had cracked them open (with only Tony spilling onto his cords) Manero put his hands on his desk, palms up, and said, ‘So, what can we do for each other, business-wise?’
Emily began with their most romantic short, the third and last in the series starring Tony and Aileen. She flipped through the discs in her briefcase until she found Young Love, III. In it, Tony, now an accomplished lover, brings his demanding but unfaithful girlfriend, Aileen, to a climax so stupendous that she declares her fidelity for evermore.
She rose, smoothing her linen skirt, and walked to the DVD player. If there was a wig
gle to her walk that wasn’t always there, well, her business shoes had platform heels and Manero’s floors were polished to a gloss. She could hardly afford to fall on her face now, could she?
She bent, turned on the TV and DVD player, inserted the disc, and returned to her seat with the remote in hand. She tossed it into Luke’s lap and leaned forwards, palms flat, onto Manero’s desk. She and Manero were face to face.
‘Let’s see,’ she cooed. She jerked her head at Luke. He hit the remote.
Emily took a slug of water from her bottle and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Too much?
Manero seemed mesmerised.
Em took her seat and turned her eyes to the monitor. She’d made the wrong choice, obviously, but it was too late to change her mind. The Young Love trilogy was so damned romantic, a celebration of Eros. This man’s mind had to be saturated with porn. He’d hate it, for sure, because it was so ‘vanilla’. She should have started with something powerful, like the honeymoon anal-fuck film.
Vito was intent on the screen, deadpan. Being polite, of course. Watching the entire movie because his nephew was involved.
She crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. As she watched, she licked her lips from time to time and tilted her water bottle to her mouth, wriggled in her seat and in general gave Manero such a show she’d be damned if he wasn’t as hard as the stupid miniature cannon that squatted on his desk. Ready, set, fire, Manero. As the piece grew to a close, with the couple declaring their love all over again, at a feverish pitch, she allowed a tear to slide down the side of her cheek. As if embarrassed, she swiped it away, making sure Manero caught all of it.
Whore.
Emily gave him her most angelic smile. Her grey eyes were misted with emotion. She tucked a flyaway strand of honey-coloured hair behind her ear. ‘Well, sir, what do you think of romance and X-rated sex now?’
‘You’re good,’ he said. ‘Fuck.’ Manero wiped his face from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin. ‘Fuck me.
‘Your timing is perfect,’ he told them. ‘You know, the readership of sex books used to be seventy per cent male, thirty per cent female. Then the internet happened. Guys like me, we churned out every sort of erotic movie a man could dream of and men, being more visual than women, stopped reading and started watching. Now, the per cents are reversed when it comes to reading porn. It’s seventy per cent female, thirty per cent male. Fewer women watch porn movies, though they love sexy-romantic ones. They like “happily ever after” to mean more than a money shot.’
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