“How're you feeling?” he asked politely.
“Fine.” I answered back warily.
“It’s your big day tomorrow, sweetie, so go get your beauty sleep. I want you in for hair and makeup at 0600 hours and on set by 0800 hours. OK!” It was a statement rather than a question, and I nodded my head submissively.
“But don’t you have to give me a script to follow or a scene to read or something?” I stuttered, not believing that this is how movie scenes were filmed, with absolutely no preparation whatsoever. I mean, come on, there was too much money involved.
“Not when Lionel’s the lead guy,” he said, as he turned and walked off. “Now get some sleep, there’s a good girl!”
Left in a total fluster, I swore again. Christ knows how he thinks I’m going to sleep now!! Somehow, though, I did sleep, and the following day came around all too quickly.
***
I was too nervous to eat breakfast the following morning and turned up for hair and make-up right on the dot, the deep-seated roots of British punctuality not letting me down. I did wonder what they planned to do to me at the hair and make-up department that would take a whole two hours; they obviously thought I was in desperate need of assistance to be allocated so much of their time. The moment I walked through the doors into the powder and paint unit they were onto me like parasites. My hair was washed and re-washed, then blow-dried until it shone silky straight, with not one little kink remaining. Having bitten my nails off through pure nerves during the first stunt scene I'd witnessed, I was put through the torment of having false nails stuck on, bright red ones at that, and dead long. Not the slightest bit practical. How on earth will I be able to do my buttons up?
My toenails were painted the same blood-red colour. Paint was also plastered all over my face, though I’ve got to admit I liked the final result. Very natural. They'd done something wonderful with the eye-liner that made my honey eyes look like huge almonds, and I made a mental note to sweet-talk the lady who did my face make-up into revealing her tricks of the trade.
Hair, face and nails finally done, then came the moment I'd dreaded: the reason I was here.
I was told to strip and step into the tiniest skin-coloured g-string you could possible imagine.
“I don’t think that’s going to cover me very much.” I said, trying to joke my way through the situation, but inside I was panicking like crazy. Christ, this is it.
I’d got my first nude sex scene coming up, and I felt a whole army of butterflies doing back-flips in my belly. I was thankful I hadn’t had breakfast. I could feel the previous year’s worth of food coming up in a monumental attack of nausea.
Starkers, except for the microscopic g-string, I stood in the middle of a brightly-lit cubicle and had fine body-paint sprayed all over me, leaving me evenly tanned and slightly glowing with golden star dust. I was left some ten minutes to fully dry and was then wrapped in a soft towelling bathrobe (very like the one I'd used on Lionel’s yacht just two days earlier), and escorted to the set.
The day’s shoot was to take place in the large barn I'd seen from a distance on my first day on location. It was brightly lit and divided into several sections. I was guided to the far side of the barn amazed that my shaking legs hadn’t packed up on me and that I’d actually made it, so far, on my own two feet. It was eight o’clock on the dot and Lionel was already there, together with the director, Freddy G and several camera crew. My guide, who was the lady who'd done wonders with the eye make-up, stayed with me. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Lionel. I was furious with him for not having warned me, or prepared me for this moment.
It was, in addition, the first time ever that I was immensely relieved that both my parents had passed away. If Mum had been alive, the notion that her daughter was to earn money by doing naked sex scenes – semi-porn if you like – would have been enough to knock her off. And as for my dad, well, he would have just hit the roof!
And honestly, why on earth waste time and money on me to do these scenes, when there were thousands of body extras to choose from who had experience and training? I really did feel very sick and faint with the whole notion of what I had let myself in for. Was it worth it for a million dollars?
I could feel Lionel’s piercing eyes on me as I approached, but still I refused to look at him. Evidently not blind to the fact I was inwardly fuming and utterly flustered at the same time, he called out in his clear confident voice, “Ladies, gentlemen, would you please leave us for a moment?”
The barn emptied and I was left alone with Lionel. We stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Lionel took my hand and gently guided me over towards a bed, which in my earlier state of panic I hadn’t noticed but which I now took in with alarm. It was a huge king-sized bed covered in white silk, and a mosquito net hung amorously around it.
“I realise you're angry at me,” he hushed smoothly.
That was a slight understatement. I was livid.
“And I’m aware I should have warned you yesterday, or the day before when we were together, that today we were starting the filming of these scenes,” he continued. “But I didn’t want to risk ruining the magic we had out there on the yacht. I've never felt that peaceful and happy in years, perhaps ever, so please don’t be angry with me despite my selfishness at not wanting to break that harmony. And, believe me, shooting bedroom scenes isn’t all that bad. But if you really can’t bear the thought of going ahead with it, tell me now and I’ll understand.”
He tenderly reached out and lifted my chin in order to raise my eyes to meet his. I gazed into his deep emerald eyes at a loss for words. Lionel sweet-talking me didn’t make things any easier. In fact his penetrating gaze and soft affectionate words left me in an even greater shambles.
“Do you trust me?”
I was aware that he'd asked this of me before, prior to leading me blindfolded into the Pacific, prior to spending the best two days I'd ever known, and was I aware that this was the main reason for my hesitation.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I just didn’t fancy having my heart broken and stampeded over.
***
After I’d finally agreed to remain on set, Lionel disappeared, and I was left alone perched on the edge of the king-sized bed. The illumination dimmed slightly and the make-up lady who had escorted me over re-appeared.
“How’re you feeling, honey?” she asked me as she moved over.
“Nervous,” I replied honestly.
“You’ll be fine. Lionel knows what he’s doing. Just follow his lead, OK. Lionel’s told the director that he wants this scene as natural as possible, so just follow your instinct.”
I nodded meekly. Could that instinct include walking off the set?
“The sooner we start, the sooner we finish. So just step out of your robe, sugar, and I’ll position you on the bed.”
Trying to keep my shaking hands under control I untied the bathrobe, and my ally, the make-up lady, slipped it from me. I then lay face down on the bed, under her instructions, and she pulled the silk sheet partly over me, leaving most of my behind uncovered. She then spread my hair out along the feathered pillow and positioned my arms, one alongside me, the other stretched out. By the time she'd finished I had, amazingly, stopped shaking, and just before she walked off she said comfortingly, “Just pretend you’re fast asleep, honey. And if you need anything just call me. I’m Hannah, by the way.”
The lights dimmed even more and I closed my eyes. I could hear slight shuffling coming from somewhere nearby, but, all in all, it was almost possible to imagine I was alone.
I remained motionless for some time before I was faintly aware that someone had sat on the bed, as the mattress gave slightly. I knew it was Lionel. I could smell his cologne just as I could the day he'd blindfolded me to take me out to sea. I sensed him lean towards me as he gently shifted his body weight. He paused slightly before he tenderly brushed my cheek with his hand. I remained still, eyes closed, acutely aware of Lionel wh
o then ran his hand gently through my long hair and caressed my back in sensual butterfly strokes. By this point he was lying beside me and casually, almost as if without meaning to, he ran his hand down my side, which was closest to him. He repeated the caress but this time his hand lingered on the curve of my breast.
Blimey... A girl’s got her limits, and at this rate I wasn’t sure I could remain still for much longer. Hand still teasing my breast he leaned forward and kissed me gently at first on the lips. He playfully nipped my lower lip as he firmly turned me over. He continued to kiss me, passionately, his tongue teasing open my mouth, and I felt a wave of dizziness come over me. Instinctively, I ran my hands through his hair, holding him to me as he continued his exploration down my neck with quick teasing nips. Just as he got level with my breasts the director called:
“CUT!”
Lionel let out a faint groan of irritation. At least I imagined it was him; it could equally well have been me, having been brought down to earth with a bump on hearing the director interrupt us. In fact, he continued to call out instructions, and it was a while before I focused on what he was saying.
“OK,” the director continued. “That’s good. Lionel, this is when you hear an explosion from outside and you both dive to the ground. But Crystal can do that, we’ll just wrap the sheet around her to hide her fat backside. Darling," (turning to me) "you were great. We’ll just shoot some more angles of you lying face down on the bed and a couple of the two of you just before you turn her around, Lionel. OK?”
Hannah hustled over to re-position me as I tried to slow my thundering heart. But Lionel seemed as in control as ever, and I realised that he, used to doing this type of scene, wasn’t affected in the slightest. I lay as still as I could on the soft feathered bed while the cameraman took close-ups of my behind from every angle possible. Firstly by myself, and then with Lionel lying by me gently fingering my hair and back. It was like undergoing torture, and it was music to my ears when the director finally called, “CUT! That’s great folks. We’ll call that a wrap.”
Hannah was by my side in a shot, like a maiden chaperone, with my bathrobe. Just as I was safely into it, the director approached me with an approving smile.
“Wonderful. Same time tomorrow, kid.”
With that he gave me a pert pat on my backside and I hurried off the set, Hannah at my heels. I wasn’t going to allow Lionel the chance to detain me, even had it been his intention.
My mind was going a thousand to one as I hurried to the make-up department with Hannah shadowing me. Despite her reassuring words as to how good I'd been, I was in a turmoil. I found it quite perversely amusing that I was congratulated on how “natural” I'd acted. Of course I'd acted natural. It was natural. I couldn’t have been more turned on in my life.
Inwardly though, I was fuming. I realised then that Lionel had had it all under control. The whole yacht number had been part of his plot to woo me, to captivate me so much that by the time it came around to do the nude bit I was gagging for it, whereas he, the trained and talented actor, just breezed through the scene as if he was going for a Sunday morning stroll. I realised that Lionel had no feelings for me whatsoever other than using me to get his film shot. What's more, I still had the following day to get through, and God knows how many more scenes after that, until I was free to return home.
Well, for the following day, and the other days, I’d be ready for him. We’ll see who out-performs whom!
***
The next morning I was on the set at eight o’clock on the dot, head held high as I walked over to where Lionel and the director were standing. I looked Lionel straight in the eye and flashed him a curt smile before turning to the director for the basic instructions on the breakdown of the scene. Directions understood, I positioned myself and waited for the magic words.
“ACTION!” the director called. I was ready.
With my back to the camera I seductively let slip to the floor the towel I had around me and with a slight sway of my hips moved to a shower and let the water run, bending over slightly as I tested its warmth. As I stepped into the shower cubicle I pulled the see-through shower curtain across and let the water cascade over me in warm rivulets. I lifted my face towards the showerhead and lifted my arms to push my damp hair back from my moist forehead. I remained poised, facing upwards, for some time before I sensed rather than heard Lionel step into the shower with me.
His arms came around my waist as he tenderly kissed my neck. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against him. His hands slowly wandered down and I felt him playfully tug at the virtually non-existent panties I'd been given to put on (not that you would wear panties in the shower, transparent as they were to the camera lens, they were used as a sort of optional prop for decency which Lionel wasn't respecting). If he pulls any harder, I thought, he’ll snap the delicate material. I also thought that if his hand wandered any lower I was quite within my rights to turn around and slap him. Or knee him in the balls, which would have been my preferred option.
As if reading my mind, he let go of my insubstantial slip and slowly trailed a line upwards until he cupped both of my breasts in his hands. Tantalizingly he traced his fingers in light circles around my nipples until they hardened, whilst he continued to playfully tease my earlobe with his soft tongue. Battling to keep my emotions in check, I was aware that I was tingling all over. Not even the barely lukewarm water was doing any good at cooling me off. He ran a trail of quivering butterfly kisses across my cheek until he lingered on my lips, gently at first he pressed his lips to mine and then as if unable to hold back any longer he turned me roughly so that we faced each other under the tumbling water and he kissed me passionately as if his life depended on it.
I returned his desire. I leaned against the shower wall and hooked my leg around him, clasping him close. One of his hands remained pinching my inflamed nipple whilst his other hand moved down the hollow of my back. Lionel lingered on the delicate slip I had on before he slipped his hand below, down between my two firm, rounded bum cheeks. I continued to kiss him back passionately, not wanting him to stop, aware, under a surge of giddiness, that I was not the only one fully aroused. I could feel his member hard against my thigh as he pressed himself to me.
I could faintly hear someone calling out, but under the falling water and my intense fervour, it was some time before I realised that the director was yelling:
“CUT!!”
Glad that I was the one to hear the order first, I firmly pushed Lionel away. As if totally under control, I said, “Sunshine, cut’s been called.” And, with that, I casually stepped out of the shower and into the bathrobe loyal Hannah had ready for me.
“That was great, guys,” continued the director. “There’s no need for a re-take.”
I was inwardly disappointed at this, as, surprisingly, I was getting quite into the swing of doing these steamy sex scenes. More importantly, I felt I'd got even with Lionel this time around. I left him to cool off in the shower whilst I nonchalantly walked off.
“Honey, you’re a star,” continued the director, taking me to one side. “You’ve got a couple more scenes next week, and then it’ll all be done and dusted. You’re a natural, babe,” he added, with his familiar pat on my bum. So I’ve been told, I thought, quick to move off the set, well aware that I wasn’t ready to face Lionel so soon after so much ardour. The passion was still playing havoc with my insides and I didn’t want to give myself away. I might be told I’m a natural actress, but I knew that Lionel could read between the lines.
When I arrived back at the caravan later I gave strict instructions to Sandy not to let anyone in to disturb me, unless, of course, it was the director. I had a feeling Lionel would pop over, and I had no intention of letting him smooth-talk me, especially as he did it so well. My intuition was spot on as later that evening there was a firm rap on the entrance to the caravan. I quickly moved into the bedroom as Sandy turned to open the door. I could hear Lionel’s familiar tone and my heart star
ting pounding nervously. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to check my emotions, Lionel had an uncontrollable pull on me, which seemed to get stronger with each passing day.
His voice faded, and the caravan door shut once again. A moment later Sandy peeped into the bedroom, where I was sitting on my bed casually trying to skim through a copy of Vogue.
“I told him you were out,” she said, as she sat beside me. She gently patted my knee as if I was a small child in need of comfort. Which, in a way, was how I felt.
“He looked kinda concerned,” Sandy added. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve worked with Lionel before and I’ve known him for years. And, well, he’s OK you know. He’s a genuine guy who doesn’t fool around, and I think he really cares for you.”
I remained silent, surprised at her observation and also privately thrilled by it. Sandy paused a while longer before adding, “Anyway, as I said, it’s none of my business, but I just thought you’d feel a bit better if I told you.”
A weak smile curved my lips and Sandy playfully knocked me with her shoulder. “That’s it girl, you’re so much prettier when you smile.”
“Thanks Sandy,” I said back. “You know, you’re OK too.” I rolled my shoulder and bumped her back.
***
The following days passed in a whirl. Each morning I joined the crew on the daily location and enjoyed watching the proceedings of each take. The shooting of the movie was coming to an end, and the cast seemed to pick up somewhat knowing that soon they would be back in California.
Lionel, meanwhile, kept his distance and avoided being alone with me at all costs. I realised it was what I'd wanted, but was conscious, too, how much I missed his company. The abrupt cooling between Lionel and me was for the best, I convinced myself, and as soon as I returned to LA I planned to take some time off before the next project Freddy G had lined up for me, and recover from all the movie mayhem by going back home to London. I really missed Tammy, and the idea that she was dating Robbie was no longer a concern.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 9