Debutante

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Debutante Page 12

by Madeline Moore


  ‘None of your business.’ Luke, taking his cue from Marion, spoke as clearly as he could and as loudly as he dared. ‘What the fuck difference does it make, bitch? I’ve got what you want. Admit it.’

  He pushed harder, jamming her up against the barricade and burying his dick another quarter-inch inside her.

  ‘I want it!’

  She knew who it was. He was sure of it. Luke’s memory was flooded with images of Marion and him fucking each other’s brains out. It’d been so easy. So goddam fucking easy. And so much fucking fun.

  ‘Diddle your clit if you want to come because I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.’

  One of Marion’s hands dropped from the barricade. She wriggled it down between the barricade and her body and slid it under the hem of her skirt. She swayed a little.

  Now that Luke was inside her both his hands were free. He kept one on her shoulder and grabbed the railing of the barricade with the other.

  ‘Christ,’ he hissed.

  ‘What the hell?’ A shocked voice let him know they’d been spotted. No time to waste.

  ‘Hey!’ This voice came from the other side of the barricade. The cops would be on him in a moment. He didn’t care. If they tried to drag him off he’d drag her with him. They’d have to hose the two of them down to separate them now.

  Marion moaned, ‘Oh my God.’

  Luke fucked her hard and fast. It was heaven to be inside her tight, hot little asshole. It was … it was … almost too much …

  ‘Fuck!’ The first spurt of come seemed to be sucked from his whole body, from his firmly planted feet to the top of his head.

  She whimpered. ‘I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Please … I’m coming right fucking now!’

  Her cunt contracted so violently her tunnel squeezed the length of his prick and he spurted again and again and again and again …

  Luke sunk his teeth into the back of her neck, like a mutt claiming its bitch. It was the only way he could keep from howling.

  ‘Po-po,’ muttered a voice behind him. Right. Paul.

  Here came the long arm of the law.

  But it didn’t matter. Luke was done. He pulled out, zipped up and took off. He didn’t know if Paul was behind him or had kept his camera on Marion. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. At the moment, he didn’t even care if Marion was getting lost in the crowd or dragged off to the cop van. He was free and that’s all that really mattered.

  Free.

  Luke didn’t stop running until he was in his own back yard. He threw open the back door and practically fell into the kitchen.

  Emily was exactly where he’d left her, no more than half an hour earlier. She jumped up as he burst through the door. ‘What?’

  ‘Quiet.’ He glanced out the kitchen window. Nobody there. ‘Ha!’ Luke collapsed into a kitchen chair. He was panting like the dog he was. ‘Ha!’

  ‘Luke?’

  He focused on Emily. As usual, her beauty disarmed him. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. It would be easier if he wasn’t looking at her when he spoke.

  ‘Did you … did you guys find Marion?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Did you get the shoot?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Great. That’s terrific, Lukey.’

  ‘You got that right.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Luke, look at me. What’s going on?’

  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  Her soft grey eyes were filled with concern. She looked innocent, as always. She smelled clean.

  Innocent and clean, while he was sordid and dirty. Last night he’d eaten out an older woman and shoved a vibrator up her butt while she rode his buddy’s dick. His first threesome had been forced on him by his own girlfriend. Fifteen minutes ago, he’d fucked his roommate up the ass in full view of his peers and professors, again at Emily’s orders. And there she sat, fresh as a fucking daisy. It made him mad.

  She leaned forwards to touch his knee. ‘Talk to me.’

  ‘Don’t touch me, please,’ he said in an even tone.

  Emily’s hand jerked back as if he’d smacked it. ‘Oh God, what is it? Did someone get arrested? What happened, Luke? Talk to me!’

  ‘Talk to you? OK, Emily, since you asked so nice. I’ll talk to you. Let’s see – I’m very tired. I’d like some alone time now.’

  ‘We are alone, Lukey. Let’s go upstairs.’ Emily stood.

  ‘I mean all alone. I want you to go back to your house and leave me be for a bit.’

  ‘No. Not until I get some answers.’ Emily folded her arms.

  The little bitch.

  ‘I’m the one looking for answers, Emily, and you better have them ready for me when I see you again.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She planted her feet. Her face began to turn red.

  ‘Hey!’ His voice was sharp. ‘Don’t even think of pulling one of your tantrums on me, little girl.’

  Emily recoiled instantly. She whispered, ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Luke stood. He folded his arms, imitating her. ‘But here’s what’s going to happen. Listen up because I’m only saying it once. I’m going up to my room. I’m going to get my black belt. The thick one. You know the one I mean?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I’m going to bring that belt right here, to the kitchen. And if you’re still here, Emily, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank your ass until it’s covered in welts. Until you beg me to stop. I don’t care how much noise you make, or who sees us, or how hard you struggle. I’m going to take my belt to your ass and teach you a lesson you won’t forget.’

  Her mouth fell open. She stared at him as if he were a stranger. ‘B-b-b-but –’

  ‘I’m leaving the kitchen now, Em. Going to get my thick black belt. If you think you’d like to sit down sometime this week, you’d better get moving. Otherwise I swear to … to the Gods of Film, I am going to beat your ass black and blue.’

  Luke sauntered out of the kitchen. He climbed the stairs at a leisurely pace. In his room, he opened his closet door and selected the black leather belt from among a few others hanging on hooks on the inside of the door. He doubled it and smacked it hard against his palm. The sound was satisfying. His palm stung. This would do nicely.

  He descended the stairs, again taking his time. He didn’t know if he hoped she’d be there or not. On the one hand, it would be immensely satisfying to punish her for the thoughtless way she’d cheapened their relationship. The way she’d cheapened him. On the other hand, if he beat her the way he’d said he would, the way he fully intended to if she was still in the kitchen, then she’d be cheapened, too. She’d never seem clean to him again and that would be a terrible pity.

  The kitchen was empty.

  Luke shoved the belt through the loops of his jeans and buckled it. From now on, he’d make sure he was wearing it whenever he saw Emily.

  If, that is, he ever saw her again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three days had passed. Emily sat at the desk in her father’s study. It was a place she’d rarely visited since his death, four years ago. When she’d returned from Luke’s house she’d gathered up all her executive producer materials, come in here and started sorting them out. Hopefully, it would help her find the answers Luke was looking for.

  He’d been so angry. And that belt – the one he’d so calmly announced he’d beat her with if she was still in his kitchen when he returned – it was thick black leather. Smooth on the outside but rough, unfinished leather on the inside. Emily shuddered.

  Daddy had never spanked her. Tears filmed her eyes. Here she was, an orphan, practically, just trying to do her best by everyone and she’d fucked up royally. Mama! Was it her birth mother she yearned for, the one she couldn’t remember? Or Bobby, who’d only been trying to do what Daddy had told her to do in his will?

  The first night after ‘the incident’ she’d searched in vain for information about Bobby’s relative
s in Brazil. Emily had never shown any interest in who they were or where they lived. Brazil was a place she’d visit with Bobby, maybe, someday, after she finished school … damn! Maybe that was the answer Luke was looking for? Emily was self-centred? She’d made a note.

  The next day she’d gone through the fact sheets on the Movie Mob. Sure enough, Kara’s stated clearly that she didn’t do girls. Worse, though, were Marion’s preferences. She wanted to work in sound: recording it and marrying it to the finished movie. She wanted to write. She wanted to act and was willing to play with anyone, male or female, except Paul. How long had Emily been operating on ‘instinct’, deciding who should do what, regardless of what they’d stated they wanted to do? Add to that the fact that she’d been shooting and releasing movies all summer without issuing a single contract to her ‘people’. The only contract that mattered, she’d decided early on, was the one she’d signed with Vito. So she’d provided shelter and food for them and ignored their increasingly frequent requests for more than the allowance she’d doled out each week. She’d treated them like children, all the while denouncing Bobby for treating her the same way. But –

  Emily glanced around the room, taking in the Geological diplomas and maps and photos she’d admired all her life. Her vision blurred. Lung cancer had killed her dad and while Bobby blamed ‘those damned devil sticks’, the cigarettes he’d smoked, Emily had always clung to the belief that he’d died of black lung, the miner’s disease, because he was always down in the mines, making sure the mines were safe and the miners were treated well. He’d prided himself on that.

  Pride. Emily had made another note. She’d planned to throw a big party, once she had the money to pay everyone’s tuition increase. She’d imagined doling out cheques to the grateful employees of NAIL when in fact they didn’t work for NAIL, they were NAIL.

  She’d paid the graphic artist his asking price, after haggling with him all summer, for the gorgeous NAIL Productions Limited logo he’d created. She’d paid the bands Marion had chosen from the demo discs Eric had provided. She’d paid the huge amount NAIL owed the clinic where cast and crew received their monthly PCR/DNA tests.

  Next, Emily had fished Vito’s sample contract from the pile of paperwork she’d ignored all summer. It had been easy enough to draw up contracts and issue cheques to the people living in her house, but she hadn’t seen anyone who lived in the house on campus except Richard. He’d tried to sneak in and drop off the first short of the ‘Strangers’ series – Marion at the student demonstration – without being caught. But Emily had cornered him.

  Now, she almost laughed at the way he’d stuttered and stumbled his way through his explanation of exactly how he and Luke had found their cougar. Fuck. He kept reminding her that she’d told Luke to do whatever he had to do to get an older woman for their shoot. She’d squeezed the truth out of him, trapping him with questions that expressed concern for everyone’s wellbeing. Did this … this Gloria woman have papers that proved she was free of STIs? ‘Oh yeah, we made sure of it. She takes the same test we do, every month. I felt perfectly safe.’ And Luke? Had he felt safe, too? Richard had rushed to reassure her. ‘Absolutely. Luke was just as comfortable as me.’ Only then had Richard realised what he’d done.

  Emily’s hands balled into fists. Gloria was supposed to arrive this afternoon for the cougar shoot and when she walked through the door Emily would pound her to – Her own words came back to haunt her: ‘Go get a cougar … I don’t care what it takes.’

  She made a series of notes in increasingly large, illegible print. Idiot. Power hungry. Fucking rude. Thoughtless. Careless. Bad.

  After Richard had left she’d watched the short. Luke, her Luke, shoving his way through the crowd to the barrier at the front. Barking his ‘lines’ at Marion while he unzipped his pants and stuck his raging hard-on up that red-headed slut’s ass. On the one hand, it was porno gold. On the other hand, it was heartbreaking. ‘Go. Just go!’ she’d ordered Luke and Paul. But Marion didn’t do Paul. Luke … well, obviously the size queen anal whore had no qualms about doing him.

  It was a good thing she’d finished the contracts by then because she’d run straight up the stairs to her room, getting there just in time to puke her guts out in her bathroom. She’d thrown herself on her bed and covered her head with a pillow to muffle her screams.

  Kara and Jillian let themselves in, though she’d yelled at them to stay away. She’d confessed all. She’d begged Kara to send Gary to get Luke and Kara had done so, while Jillian stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulders and gently washed her face.

  Finally, she’d sobbed herself to sleep, sure that when she awoke Luke would be there to hold her. To forgive her. Fuck, to beat her with his belt if that’s what it would take to get him back.

  But it hadn’t turned out that way at all.

  Now, she heard the unmistakable sound of Paul’s old car pulling up to the house. Thank God! They were shooting that fucking cougar this afternoon and she’d held on to the hope that professionalism would force them to show up. Richard and Paul got out of the car, each loaded with equipment. She waited, though it was obvious the car was now empty. No Luke. No Marion, either.

  Jillian knocked at the door of the study and opened it. ‘Honey, I’ve got to dress the set.’

  Emily nodded. She gathered her papers together carefully, but before she tucked them into her soft-sided briefcase she added one more word to her list: Hopeless.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A dozen cables snaked up the staircase and into Emily’s bedroom. Emily crept up, planting her feet carefully. They were supposed to be shooting the Sleepover sequence in her bedroom but it didn’t sound like it.

  Half the room was still pink and white and frilly, kept by Bobby like a shrine ever since Emily had left. The other half was cluttered with lights and filters and reflectors; sound equipment, apple boxes, gels and their two cameras, one static, on a tripod, the other mounted on a rubber-wheeled dolly. The crew, Richard, Tony and Gary, was standing around, idle. Luke was sitting in his director’s chair, shuffling papers on a bar stool he was using as an improvised desk. He did not look happy. He was wearing his heavy leather belt.

  The sight of it made Emily tremble.

  She’d texted her list of personal failings to him and asked him to come to direct the Sleepover piece. His reply, also by text, had been a simple ‘OK’. She hadn’t been quite sure if that meant she was forgiven but the mere knowledge that she’d see him the next day had been enough to raise her spirits.

  She’d slept in Bobby’s room last night so her room could be dressed for the shoot. To her chagrin, she’d been so relieved she’d slept like the dead, missing Luke’s arrival and the prep for the shoot by several hours. A call to her cell from Vito had finally roused her. People were clamouring for more NAIL movies. He wondered when she’d be delivering new product.

  Emily wondered the same thing.

  There’d been no time to waste primping for what she hoped would be her reunion with Luke. Instead, she’d simply set the rest of the Movie Mob to work, preparing the main floor for the first scene of the long awaited Pool Party shoot and then headed up the stairs to check on the progress of Sleepover.

  Emily didn’t want to greet Luke like the wacky E.P. of NAIL; she wanted to greet him like a contrite girlfriend. So she waited patiently until he finally decided to acknowledge her arrival by glancing in her direction.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Emily,’ he replied.

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Aileen phoned from Vancouver. She has the flu. Can’t make it. That leaves us with two girls for our threesome. We’re ready. Everything is set up. All we’re missing is one more female body.’

  ‘Fu– for crying out loud. We don’t have another girl!’

  ‘Nope.’ He threw a fistful of papers down. ‘Our two girls, Marion and Jillian, are pretty flexible about who they�
�d do but that doesn’t help now, does it! Jillian’s first choice was Marion.’

  ‘How about Marion’s first choice? I don’t remember …’

  ‘Why does that not surprise me?’

  Em shrugged. She’d worked hard over the last few days. In fact she had a contract and cheque for Luke in her briefcase and the same for Marion and Jillian. They were the last members of NAIL left to be paid, except for herself. Unfortunately, Em wouldn’t be paid a penny because NAIL had no more money.

  If Luke wanted to keep punishing her for not paying attention to the details of cast and crew there was nothing more she could do about it. She started to toss her head but stopped herself in time. No pride, Emily. Not now. It was fucking impossible to be a contrite girlfriend and a professional E.P. at the same time. But she was damn well gonna keep trying!

  ‘Marion wrote a name in, but not that of one of the talent,’ he said.

  ‘Who then?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Me?’ That was a stunner.

  ‘Remember now? Or are you still in denial about your deep dark desire to make out with chicks?’

  ‘Oh, Luke! Stop it.’ Emily fished his contract and cheque out of her briefcase. That’d give him something to do while she figured out what she should do next.

  He barely looked at the paperwork. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Everyone’s being paid today,’ she said.

  ‘Great. So? Time’s a-wasting.’

  ‘Just give me a moment to think,’ she muttered.

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ Luke reminded her.

  ‘I know, Luke.’

  ‘By the way, I’m sorry about Gloria. She didn’t seem like a drunk the night she and Richard and I … met.’

  ‘She showed up hammered at two in the afternoon. We had to send her away in a cab.’

  ‘What did she have to say about that?’

  ‘She said, quite distinctly for someone so smashed, “We are not amused.”’

  Luke laughed. ‘Crazy English bitch. Anyway, I imagine NAIL needs this girlie shoot?’

 

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