Helê pulled me on top, and we kissed and held each other, and I looked down at her, both of us staring in wonder at the beauty of each other’s bodies. Helê laughed and rolled me as if we were wrestling, me on my back now, her sucking my left breast, Luis not forgotten as I reached out and gripped his penis. I looked to Helê, and there was silent permission granted. She let me go, and then I tasted Luis’s mouth, his kisses urgent and hungry. I moved to take him into my mouth, sucking him hard, Luis kissing his wife above my head. He groaned, and I let him go, not wanting him to come yet, just wanting to take him to the brink. My tongue licked him up along a prominent vein, and he rolled his eyes at Helê, laughing. Then the two of them were playfully pushing me down, gripping my wrists. I felt his cock on my pussy lips, a brush with my clit. He slipped into me so easily, gasping above me as I half embraced Helê.
Him inside me, my arm still around her, kissing her deeply. For a moment I felt wrapped in a blanket of hot flesh, the two of them so close and warm, and it was liberating to be taken like this, feel her left breast pushed against me, the brush of his abs, hair and faces and eyes, my fingertips sliding on two soft backs, tracing their way to buttocks, thighs. I felt Luis filling me, and then blond curls tickled my stomach as her mouth ducked down to completely engulf my clit in her generous lips. My back arched, and I let out a wail of pleasure.
I lifted my legs high and rested my calves on his shoulders, and he was deep inside me, Helê sucking my clit fast in and out now, and I was coming, coming again. Luis held back his own orgasm, sweat polishing his face and chest. We played with patterns, Luis still inside me as Helê switched to 69, her mound in my face, my tongue lapping her, her upping the ante as she cupped his balls, sucking my clit. I thought he’d shoot into me then. But still he held back. I begged them to let me watch them together, to let me give them pleasure in return. And so I sat back and masturbated as he thrust inside her, Helê shutting her eyes tight, her own orgasm building with “Ah, ah, ah,’ up the musical scale. I had a burst of inspiration, an instinct, remembering how they had watched the footage I directed and got turned on. I slithered up the bed close to them, and with no warning, slapped Luis’s small white ass. He made a sudden thrust hard inside Helê, whose eyes widened. My nails dug into his buttock for a second, and then I kissed Helê as my fingers squeezed both her nipples. Luis let out a powerful grunt, and I knew her pussy must have tightened in response on his cock. She rolled him as she had rolled me, on top of him now and demanding I spank her ass as she rode him hard, pinch her nipples from behind.
“Slap meeeee, slap meeee!’
And so I alternated grabbing her tits and my hand swinging with a thunderclap on her bubble-round buttocks. They came together, tears running down Helê‘s cheeks. Breathing heavily, she collapsed onto him and then rolled off.
“Oh, my God!’ She laughed. And the two of them pulled me down to lie between them on the bed.
♦
Minutes passed. I looked up and at last noticed the framed movie posters on the walls.
“So these must be your favorites,’ I said.
“Huh,’ laughed Luis, eyes still closed in afterglow. “They’re supposed to inspire me, keep me motivated. Lately they just mock me.’
“I thought your mainstream thing was documentaries,’ I asked.
Because none of the posters were documentaries. Bertolucci’s 1900 and Last Tango in Paris, Alan Rudolph’s Choose Me and Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle. Each one of the movies here included a lush sensuality and lyricism.
“No, I’m good at documentaries,’ sighed Luis. “But these films… ! They make you want to go out and tell a beautiful story. Not show people fucking but making love, and with a fabulous backdrop behind naked bodies.’ He shook his head and offered an almost embarrassed little smile. “Paint on screen.’
Helê nuzzled my cheek and whispered she loved Rudolph’s films. And like a wife who can finish her man’s sentences and has adopted his tastes, she said brightly, “Jean Renoir.’
“Yes!’ said Luis, energized by the suggestion. He leaned over to kiss her thigh, and they shared a laugh.
“Sorry?’ I asked.
“Jean Renoir was the painter Renoir’s son,’ said Luis. “Didn’t you know? Can you imagine what it must have been like to grow up with an Impressionist painter as your dad? And you become a filmmaker?’
Enveloped by a lushness of color, I supposed. Luis rattled off a list of shots in 1900 he admired, gorgeous cinematography. The son of a fisherman in the Algarve, Luis had been bursting with stories to tell when he got out of film school in Portugal. Then he was grateful just to be working in film at all and had moved to Brazil, thinking the job market would be better there. Then he was just grateful to be working on any film. Now that he had achieved a level of experience and comfort, he was wistful again, seeing what could be done, what could be shot, if one were brave enough to show something besides lust or Hollywood’s insipid crude humor or car explosions.
“Film investment is so notorious in its cowardice,’ he, laughed, idly stroking Helê‘s leg. “They never get it—that if one were brave, one would make something new, and people would come to see it. People are tired of the old shit, even what we do at Silky. Ugh.’
I wanted to say, Look, you’re only in your thirties, you’ve got plenty of time to still make your mark. But he pulled Helê on top of him and said, “Listen to me, practicing to be an old man on a bench.’
“Oh, yes, you’re ancient,’ she replied. “Isn’t he ancient, Teresa?’ She gripped his cock, and it sprang to hard, new life in her small hand. She passed his penis over to me and moved to cup my breast. Luis leaned in to kiss me…
And the party went on above our heads.
♦
We were comfortable afterwards. No awkwardness, no presumption that our being together had to “mean something’ or that it suggested any involvement past friendship. Luis was a bit warmer to me in the office the next week, and when Helê stopped by to pick him up for lunch, she came to my desk and kissed me on the cheek hello. Sometimes I was invited along, other times not.
I know what you’re thinking. If I was so sure Luis was innocent, shouldn’t I have approached him about his own amateur investigation of his director? And if I were working for anyone else, I would have. But I was dealing with Hodd and MI6, and I could imagine the lectures, the self-righteous fury, the veritable shit storm that would result if I blew my cover to the target of this investigation. Hodd struck me as the type to ignore context if I told him Luis had in his possession two of the Ladrão films—he’d say there you are, he’s in on it, now go home, we’ll take it from here.
Got to watch for a little while longer.
I knew there was a development when Luis invited me to have a drink with him and Helê at that old Twickenham landmark, The White Swan (in their choice, these two couldn’t get a more English spot). I sat down and took in the rugby gear in the display cases, and let the boss buy me a Scotch.
Luis sipped his Stella Artois, looking very pensive, and at last said, “Teresa, I think it’s time I took a break, and I’ve always wanted to show Helê other parts of Europe. We’ve been thinking a lot about you.’
“You’ve become a close friend very fast,’ said Helê next to me, giving me an impulsive hug.
I thanked them both, but didn’t have a clue what was going on. Were they about to invite me along on their trip? A ménage à tour? It wouldn’t be the first time I was offered that kind of holiday (last time, I accepted the offer, and maybe one day I’ll get around to telling that juicy story).
“Teresa,’ Luis started again, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Do you think…’
I waited.
“Do you think you could handle Duncan’s job if I asked you to?’
“What?’
“Oh, not right away, not immediately! Don’t worry. But perhaps in a couple of weeks or so. I’d rather not go into it, but Duncan’s become, shall we say…unreliable. I shudder
to think what chaos he could start while we’re on holiday.’
My mind conjured up images of those phone bills in the study. Sounded like Luis had learned what Duncan was up to and who those numbers belonged to. But it was strange the way he spoke. No anger in his voice, no sense of betrayal. He didn’t even sound cheerful at the prospect of going on holiday.
“The business side, it can take care of itself pretty much,’ Luis went on. “Payroll, that sort of thing. I know you won’t go crazy on budget, but I’ll check in from to time to make sure you don’t have any conflicts with the admin people.’
“Where do you plan to go?’ I asked politely. “Italy? France?’
“Italy, I would love Italy!’ chirped Helê, clapping her hands together like a child.
So she didn’t know. Yes, maybe he wanted to surprise her, but he didn’t pick up on her joy in this moment at all. He didn’t tease her or say “maybe’ or give any clue to their itinerary. The corners of his mouth flickered in a tight smile, and I knew I was about to get a brush-off answer.
“Hey, this is a vacation. No one in the office will be able to reach me.’
Or anyone else, I thought. People disappear when they’re guilty of something. I wondered if maybe I’d been fooled all this time.
“No one able to reach you. What, you going to be on a boat?’
He looked at me with a small silent gasp, and I added, “You have a framed photo in your office of you crewing in a yacht race. Kind of a giveaway. You don’t want people to guess where you’re going, maybe you should take that down.’
He nodded pensively and said, “You’re very good at noticing details.’
“Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I wasn’t,’ I said. “Directing. Editing.’
“ Uh-huh.’
“When exactly do you plan to leave?’ I asked. “I mean, I ought to know, because that’s how long I have to prepare— to take over from Duncan, I mean.’
“Like I said, a couple of weeks or so, but you’ll do fine,’ said Luis. “I trust you.’
“You can, you know. You can trust me.’
Luis sipped his beer, leaned back and took Helê‘s hand. “I do. I do, because you’re loyal, Teresa. I can tell. And I think you have a good heart. But you are like my wife here. You think a good heart will always win. Believe me, you have to show your teeth now and then. It’s fight or flight.’ Another sip, and he said quickly, “I’m talking about the business world. See? I do need a vacation. I’m getting cynical.’
I’ll bet.
♦
The next evening I was working late at the studio. Soon I’d be a director, but until shooting started, I was pulling double duty. I had to finish editing a couple of features while hammering out the logistics for my first film. When I was done for the night, I planned to boot up a few of my colleagues’ computers and see what else I could learn.
Especially Duncan’s. I had spotted him earlier that afternoon swiping a whole collection of plastic sheets from the storage room to stack in the trunk of his car. It was a dead giveaway. Those plastic sheets were precut to be folded and assembled into DVD sleeves, only slightly better than the cheap, crunchy, cling-film-type sleeves most DVD pirate sellers in the high street use. I had been told that we used those plastic sleeves occasionally when we needed to dump stock—you could have remainders in porn just as with regular books and CDs. I helped put the sleeves together for a remainder shipment one afternoon, and the work was mind-numbingly repetitive and dull.
Well, well, Duncan. Aren’t you an industrious boy.
Now if the plastic sleeves were for the nasty Ladrão features being sold across the UK, there was only one reason he’d swipe them: because Luis wasn’t in on the deal. Maybe that was the point. What better way for this Ladrão Films to use Silky Pictures as a respectable (well, relatively respectable) front than to keep its managing director out of the loop? Maybe that was why Luis had argued with those strangers. They spoke Portuguese in Brazil, and maybe Ladrão Films was based there. It would explain the sunny backgrounds and Duncan’s phone calls to Rio.
When I finished my edits, I was on my way to checking Duncan’s computer. But I never got my chance.
I wasn’t the only one working late that evening. A girl named Nicole in Accounting had a desk close to the front entrance, and I strolled down the hall, shouting, “I’m ordering Chinese—want anything?’
No reply.
What she wanted was help. I found her lying on the floor near her desk, unconscious but breathing. Holy shit. What was going on? It looked like someone had hit her hard enough to perhaps give her a concussion. As I reached for the phone, I heard angry swearing from the opposite side of the office, then a rattle. Like something—or someone—had collided with a filing cabinet.
I did a hundred-yard sprint down the hall, only to stop myself at the last second before I catapulted into two men intimidating Duncan.
Duncan was fairly tall, but these guys were heavier, fiercer, and clearly in an ugly mood, and they had him backed up against a wall now, boxed in by the filing cabinet. One was in his twenties, with a prominent nose and bad skin. The other was the heavyset bearded guy who had visited Luis the other day. The young one pulled out a gun tucked into his belt and aimed it at me—
And that’s not what freaked me out.
No, seriously.
I’ve faced guns before. Not fun, I don’t recommend it. But what was strange was the heavyset guy touched his mate’s arm and muttered something low in Portuguese. I heard the word nêga and then another stream of Portuguese, and popping out of that was “Knight’—not “Lane,’ my cover identity. And not night, because you’d use your own word in the language for that. He said my proper surname.
They knew me.
I wasn’t to be shot. The young hoodlum tucked the gun back in his trousers, so now he was only happy to see me.
That was when I kicked him.
Hey, I could figure things out later. I had two creeps who had just knocked out the poor girl at her desk near the foyer, and as much as Duncan was a misogynistic jackass, they looked ready to murder him. Gun Happy went “Ooomph!’ and flew back into a desk. The heavyset one picked up a three-hole punch and hurled it at me.
Ow. Big ow. Those things are large and heavy and made of metal, and I did something between a duck and a block with my forearm, and neither worked because the damn clunky thing hit me in both the wrist and the head. And Heavyset Guy wasn’t done.
“A little help here!’ I shouted.
But Duncan hightailed it out of there. Nice. Thanks a lot.
Gun Happy shouted something in Portuguese to Heavyset, who let me sock him once in the chest and fell back. I was glad he felt the blow—the paper-punch thing hurt. I don’t know whether Gun Happy was saying it’s not worth it, let’s get out of here, but I thought I better encourage that line of thought.
“That girl you hit near the door,’ I said, betting they could speak English. “She’s hurting, but she’s up—and she’s called the police.’
They both watched me. Maybe they knew it was a bluff, maybe they couldn’t take the chance. The two of them backed up a couple of steps, preparing to go, and for a moment, my heart stopped because Heavyset reached into his jacket pocket… a change of mind about using his gun?
No, he pulled out his cell phone. Heavyset was turning his back on me, walking away, Gun Happy walking backwards, guarding their escape. Both of them were heading for the foyer. Nicole—
I followed them as they broke into a jog, but they weren’t concerned with hurting the poor girl from Accounting anymore. They only wanted to leave. Just as they ran out the door, I saw Nicole stagger to her feet from behind her desk. She had thrown up, nausea brought on by fear or the blow to her head or both, and she wiped her mouth with a couple of tissues.
“Are you okay?’
She nodded weakly. “I was going through files when somebody bashed my head in!’
“They’re gone now. Call the police. Th
ey were after Duncan—I’ve got to go check on him.’
“No, no, I can’t,’ said Nicole, stopping me in my tracks.
“What do you mean you can’t?’
“Luis told me a week ago we might get burgled. He said he noticed a car parked in a funny place outside our lot, two guys who didn’t look like they belonged—nothing he could pin down as definite trouble, but I guess he was concerned. He said just tell him what was taken and leave the police out of it. He said cops are worthless everywhere.’
I couldn’t believe my ears. I’ll bet she would have felt differently if she’d seen those two thugs coming.
“Nicole, are you mad? I’m sure Luis wouldn’t say that if he knew what happened to you! Pick up the phone and dial.’ And I went running down the hall, searching for Duncan.
I found him back at his desk, loading up a set of DVDs and tossing a few keepsakes into a box. Wherever he’d once hidden the nasty videos, he’d found a good spot, but he didn’t need it anymore. He must have listened for the pair leaving, and now he was in a hurry to make his own exit.
“That was some courageous running away back there. Now what the hell did they want from you?’
He went on packing. I was still an annoyance to him, not his rescuer. “They think we pay the girls cash for the shoots, so they expected to find a big deposit and thought I knew where it was.’
“Bullshit.’
“I don’t give a toss what you think, baby doll—’
I pushed the box off the desk, spilling its contents all over the floor.
“Hey! You fucking bitch, what did you go and—’
“Shut—up!’ I yelled. “Ladrão Films.’
The name drop was like an anvil. He was all bark. He was also too stupid to lose the mask even after I’d witnessed him running away. The only thing I reckoned would work would be to hit him with the truth.
“Listen, you sleaze, I know all about these videos. Do you make them?’
“No!’ He sounded like a snotty rebellious kid as he said it. “They’re shot in Brazil. And I don’t need to explain myself to some skank editor who’s—’
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