Heart of Change

by Roxy Harte

  The shower room is steamy as I take one last look in the mirror. I toss my still-damp hair, drop my towel and shake my boobs. I can barely see myself through the fogged surface, so I swipe my hand across the glass, taking inventory, and find that on a purely physical level I’m not bad for forty-four.

  At least I’ll be going out on a high note and not a low note. Before my trip to Cabo, I feared retirement. And since? I can see a life beyond the cameras. I look in the mirror and try to see myself as a mother, not a porn star. The thought makes me smile and laugh. Blowing myself a kiss, I rewrap in my towel, ready for makeup. Ready for my final performance!

  “Whoa, beautiful, not so fast!”

  His voice startles me and I pivot to face the man behind the deep, heavily accented voice, breaking into a huge smile when I see that it is Hans, dressed as a janitor, complete with coveralls and an embroidered name patch that reads, “Joe”.

  I gasp, seeing the cameraman standing behind him, realizing immediately that the production company is going to make good on their promise that I will go out in style. He is already filming, no script. Let’s do this. Today is the twentieth anniversary of my very first shoot. I was twenty-four, and Hans was my very first co-star, and in that scene, he played the janitor and I was the startled young co-ed.

  He looks good, as good as the last time I saw him. He’s incredibly sexy and his charisma is bar none, although there was nothing besides our sex scenes between us. He was a kind and patient teacher, and his being extremely hot hadn’t made the job of getting naked with him any harder.

  I bite my lip, remembering the hard, six-pack abs he used to boast and wonder if he is still as fit and toned as he was twenty years ago.

  “The showers are closed for cleaning, Miss.”

  Without a script, we’re all just ad-libbing, but by now I know how the game is played. I feign shock and fear for the camera. “Oh! I’m finished. I just need to grab my clothes.”

  He takes the three steps forward to caress my face, “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

  He takes me by surprise, grabbing the towel and jerking it off my body. The original scene wasn’t played roughly, but then porn has entered a new age. He grabs me in an arm lock, forcing me over the counter. From his pocket, he pulls out a rubber bit and shoves it between my teeth, fastening it behind my head. Then, with quick hands, he ties my upper arms, wrapping a length of rope above and below my boobs. I whimper with conviction.

  “Turn around and let me see those tits.”

  He slaps my breasts then chuckles. “Still firm after all these years. Nice. Very nice. It’s good to see you again, Simone. Miss me?”

  I nod, unable to speak around the bit.

  “I don’t think you have…all these years and not a single phone call. I’m crushed.”

  He sighs, flicking my nipple. “I think I need to teach you a little respect.”

  And just like that the scene is set. He now has a reason to punish me that the viewers will be able to identify with. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of shiny alligator nipple clamps, which have a mean bite when he attaches them to my nipples. I make noise around my bit, protesting as I try to back away, but my resistance is all for the rolling camera. In truth, I have been hot and horny since I turned and saw him standing there.

  Okay, bisexual, not a lesbian…

  I like sex.

  I like all sex…

  I don’t think Geri would want to hear me say that though.

  Sometimes, little surprises like this one, the adrenaline rush that sets my blood pounding, remind me why I stayed in this business as long as I did. Every day is different. Different scene, different partner. Some better than others. Hans was always the best in my mind. We had a chemistry that was like electricity sizzling between us and if I had doubts about my new career path before Hans, after I had no more doubts. I would have revenge and fun.

  But to my disappointment, not all scenes were as wonderful as that first. Believe it or not, the sex, the bondage, the filming…it can all get a little monotonous. I might even say that there were days I was bored by it all. Right now, this moment, I’m anything but bored. My blood is boiling and I can’t wait to see what he has up his sleeve.

  I don’t have to wait long. He pushes me over the vanity and spanks me twenty times, one for each year, then he pulls me up and tells me to crawl behind him as he leads me to one of the main stages. Crawling makes me angry. I don’t know how anyone sees this as fun…

  I also know the camera loves my distaste, my irritation, the rebellion it catches in my angry stare. I crawl because this is my job. I crawl, realizing that this is the last time I will ever do this, making something come loose in my chest…emotion. Not freedom, not joy, and not sadness or fear about what comes next in my life, but definitely melancholy. This is my last film day.

  On my hands and knees, I follow, my brain replaying scene after scene, co-star after co-star, it is almost like my life is flashing before my eyes, but before I can lose it completely, I find twenty men lined up and waiting.

  I’m beginning to sense a theme here, a theme that makes me laugh, even though a single tear does manage to escape, running down my cheek.

  As I watch Hans, I notice one of the cameras following him as well. He turns to pick up something off a rough-hewn table then turns back around and walks toward me, carrying a heavy-duty vibrator. I feel my pussy do a little happy dance on the inside and immediately become aware of the wetness between my thighs.

  God, I’ve loved this job…

  What does that say about me? I’ve blamed Simon, all along, displacing any shame or guilt…but the truth is…I’ve loved this.

  Is that why panic is building in my chest?

  Is that why I feel like crying?

  Hans doesn’t come through the lobby. I waited, wanting to thank him for joining me on my final shoot and apologize for not finishing. Instead, I find Joey, our producer, and ask him where Hans disappeared to. “Oh, I talked him into another scene.” He laughs again before saying, “Allison.”

  So that’s the way it’s going down…my replacement.

  I nod, having seen her before. I agree that she will do well. Cute, young, double-D on top, thin and lithe everywhere else it’s important. She has a gymnast’s body and finds contortions easy. I imagine Hans has her tied in a classic hog-tie as a warm-up.

  “You can watch. Stage three.”

  “Nah, that’s all right. I need to get going.”

  “Really, I want you to. Simon is tying the new scene to the end of your retirement video. You know, a theme deal.”

  “What theme? Out with the old, in with the new?”

  “Something like that.” He laughs. I don’t find it amusing. “Really, just go in, give him a peck on the cheek and tell Allison good luck. We’ll get the whole thing on film.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Go, go!” He rushes me down the hall. “You look hot in that dress,” he comments. “I cannot believe you’re leaving us. I swear you have five more good years.”

  “Five? Really?” I ask sarcastically, widening my eyes as if I’m shocked that I could have that many. I catch sight of Hans. I put on my stage smile and get ready to enter stage left. The sooner I get this scene over with, the sooner I’m out of here.

  He has her bent over a gymnast horse, fucking her hard. She is blindfolded and has a ball gag in her mouth, but she is making all the appropriate noises that mean she’s enjoying Hans’ skill.

  Joey pushes me forward and I am just about to say my line I just came by to say goodbye, when Hans starts screaming and falls against the girl’s backside, twitching, obviously in pain. I rush to his side. “Are you all right?”

  “My back!” he grits out.

  Joey and two cameramen race in to try to help him. “Don’t touch me!” he screams in agony. The naked girl is making hysterical noises because she has no idea what is happening.

  “What on earth just happened?” Joey demands. A cameram
an answers smartly, “The old guy’s back just went out, dude.”

  I see a very short career for our cameraman in his future.

  I lean over Allison, touching her gently on the shoulder to calm her down. “Don’t move, sweetie. Hans is having a bit of a problem.” I squat in front of her face and lift the blindfold so that we have eye contact. There’s nothing worse than being tied up, blindfolded, and not knowing what in the hell is going on around you. “Do you want me to release the bit?” I ask. “It might be a moment before the scene can start again.”

  She nods and I release the gag. “What the fuck?” are the first words out of her mouth and I wish I’d left her gagged.

  It takes four men to help Hans dismount and back away from the naked girl.

  A cameraman moves in, his heavy equipment balanced on his shoulder. Unbelievable, it’s all being filmed. In my head I see the leaked video footage sprouting up on YouTube and blogs across the Net within hours. Simon appears on set just as medical assistance arrives for Hans. It is a painful moment for all of us, just watching them strap him to a backboard.

  As many times as Hans has left me screaming, I don’t think I ever sounded like that.

  I watch them take him off stage. A camera moves in to tape a close-up of my face. I try to not react or change facial expressions, which is harder to do than I ever thought it would be. I let my gaze wander to where Hans is being treated and find Simon there as well. I watch Hans, he watches me, and the camera tapes it all. I can imagine the Howard Stern jokes and Saturday Night Live spoofs about geriatric porn stars in my head.

  “Stop filming!” I demand. “Christ, can we have some respect? Hans is hurting.”

  Simon joins me and gestures with his hand to wrap it up.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem. It’s becoming quite a circus event around here. I think I’m in dire need of a vacation.”

  “I just don’t want Hans to be this week’s spoof.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he promises. “I’ll clean up the whole thing and make you and Hans both look wonderful. There won’t be a single reason for anyone to spoof anything.”

  “You better watch it, mister, or I might start thinking you aren’t such a horrible guy after all these years convincing me otherwise,” I tease.

  “Oh, I’m horrible. That’s why I can’t keep a woman for very long. No stamina.”

  “The man I remember had stamina to spare.” I say. “He was just impossible to get along with.”

  He grimaces and shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a dick.”

  I don’t argue with him. I do nod in agreement and laugh. It seems like an easy moment between us, especially after the worry I’ve put into this last day of filming. We hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, but then, over the years, we’ve had many angry partings and our friendship, if that’s the right sentiment for whatever it is we are to each other, has survived.

  I can feel myself starting to tear up, nostalgia, I guess. Or that’s what I tell myself. It isn’t because I’m afraid I’ll never see Simon again. It’s change. Everyone fears change…but not me, not today.

  It’s a relief. After so much worry about growing too old, I’m fine, ready to walk away from it, ready to start my new life.

  “I guess this is it,” I say and give him a small wave, keeping distance between us. But he doesn’t allow it. He grabs me and pulls me into a hug. “We’re good, right? Still friends?”

  I look at him hard but assure him, “We’re good.”

  “Great, so we’re on for Tokyo?”

  “We’re back to Tokyo? Seriously? Did your financial backers fall through?”

  He clutches his chest. “You hurt me.”

  “You honestly don’t think I’m going…especially not as a consultant or a companion…because I was under the impression you were no longer interested in being partners.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Fifty-fifty. Me and you.”

  “Seventy-thirty, I run the show, you stay in Seattle.” I wink.

  He sighs. “At seventy-thirty, it’s your baby. You’ll need to leave in two weeks for prelims.”

  What? Really? I try my best to hide my shock while simultaneously doing the in-vitro math in my head. Vitamins for six weeks, birth control for four weeks, hormones for two weeks, ovulation and egg harvesting, minus two weeks down in the countdown because I’ve already been taking the vitamins and hormones for almost two weeks. Subtract two weeks before I leave, the two weeks in Tokyo…it will be fine. It will be close, but fine. His eyes narrow with concern, “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no, I assure him. Two weeks in Tokyo for scouting and test screenings, right?”

  “Three. Give or take.”

  “What do you mean three?” I panic. Three is not fine. Three weeks will mess everything up. “I’m in for two, Simon. So we need to get the pre-launch wrapped up quick.”

  “That will be up to you. I’m not going to be there. Remember?”

  I have a moment’s pause, it suddenly seems too much. What exactly did I just bargain for? He answers my unspoken question with a factor I hadn’t planned into my baby-making calendar.

  “After you get back, we’ll run the numbers, but I’d say you better start making preparations to relocate to Tokyo.”

  Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. I wasn’t born yesterday and I know exactly what Simon is up to. Distraction and manipulation. Does he really think that he can keep me so busy I won’t even think about having a baby? What’s it to him anyway?

  Did I really used to be that easy to manipulate?

  Yes.

  And I suppose he’ll show up once a month for a long weekend to make sure that he keeps my attention. Well, I’ve got news for him. The sex wasn’t that great. But that little, mean voice in the back of my head reminds me that it was great enough to keep me at his beck and call for fifteen years. It’s only been the last five that I broke the Simon addiction, and the first sign of emotional angst and I was all over him. Dear God, I’m a sick individual.

  I sigh with a heavy heart.

  I really shouldn’t go to Tokyo, not if I really am that disturbed.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I nod. “Everything’s fine.” I give him my big, fake, on-camera smile. “Just working out the details in my head.” I’m only in for two weeks and then I’m home for hormones. I can fly back and forth if need be until after the in-vitro. And after? Babies are born in Tokyo every day. I can raise a child there as well as in the United States. Right? I will not let Simon mess this up for me.

  An angry voice in my head silences the rest. Where does Geri fit in?

  Chapter Eleven

  Stopping at a stoplight opens a floodgate of emotion. I don’t know why, I just know that I’m sobbing when horns start honking behind me and when I look up I see that the light has changed to green. What the fuck?

  I pull over to the side of the road, obviously I should have looked before I put the car in park, because if I had been paying attention, I would have noticed that I’d just pulled up beside an elementary school. The shrill squeals of small children actually make me look up and then I am watching them play. I release the steering wheel only when it becomes too painful to keep gripping it. My knuckles are white. I force myself to let go and look at my hands. My manicure was freshened this morning, as it is before every shoot. I have pampered porn star hands. I try to imagine what my hands will look like after I am a mother.

  A mother. I look back at the children playing, trying to imagine that one of them is mine. The image doesn’t form because Simon is already in my head, screaming, “A child is definitely a deal breaker.”

  Geri’s face pops into my head, a memory I’d forgotten, right after the birth of her nephew and the pride that gleamed through her eyes as she showed off her brag book, page after page of drooling baby. I’d been repulsed. Maybe that’s the problem, I don’t really like babies…

  Am I making a mistake?

/>   If I really thought that, would the idea of going to Tokyo leave me filled with desperation that this trip may end any hope I have of ever having a baby? Why does every decision seem so dire?

  I watch as a little girl goes down a slide and two little boys fight over a swing. I smile. Yes, the life I know has come to an end. I’m not a porn star anymore…and maybe that was the impetus for seeing the fertility specialist. But now, I am headed to Tokyo in a matter of days, which if successful will necessitate my relocation there. And still, in my mind, I see my stomach swelling with my child. I want a baby. I can make this work. I can.

  Where does Geri fit in?

  I cover my face with my hands and start crying, again, because I really don’t have the answer to that question. A minute later, an hour later? The playground is silent and yellow school buses line an opposite curb. I decide I have to talk to her. I have to come clean about everything—my retirement, the final shoot today, Simon’s offer to make me his partner in Tokyo and what that means, and my plans to have a child, through in-vitro or by adoption.

  My knees quake all the way home. I’m terrified of having this conversation, but then I arrive to find her Jeep not in the driveway. Well, hell, a reprieve isn’t the answer I was looking for. I want to get this conversation over and done. I want to know what she thinks, I need to see her reaction.

  Inside, I find a note from her in the middle of the kitchen table. My heart sinks. I don’t even want to read the note. I’m pissed off and crying when I finally dare to peek, certain that she found out I was shooting today and she left mad.

  S,

  I have to go out of town. Work. Sorry. I’d like to see you again when I get home. That is, if you’d like that too.

  -G

  Well, duh! Of course I want to see you! Damn it, Geri. Why didn’t you wait for me to get home? Or call my cell? I guess I’ll have to ask her that, when she calls. Forget that. I’ll call her.

  I grab my cell from my purse and see that she did call, but because it was turned off during filming and I forgot to turn it back on, I missed her call…thirteen times. I sigh, frustrated with myself. I dial her number, but the voice that answers isn’t Geri, it’s an automated responder. “The number you are trying to reach is out of the calling area. Please—” I hang up, more frustrated than ever.