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I kept filming.
I shot long minutes of the two actresses kissing tenderly as Maxine drifted down from the clouds of her ecstasy.
I kept filming.
I videoed the girls embracing, their hands wandering over each other’s soft curves until Hannah rolled onto the hard sun baked pavers and Maxine crawled between her legs.
I kept filming.
I zoomed in tight as Maxine lowered her mouth to Hannah’s thigh and her lips fluttered soft kisses all the way to the core of her lover.
Hannah turned her head to the side, eyes closed, and there was a dream-like smile on her lips until Maxine’s mouth found her clit and Hannah flinched and then bucked with urgent arousal.
“Oh, God. Yes!” the words burbled up from Hannah’s throat. Walter brought his camera close to Hannah’s face and kept it there while I moved to film the touch of Maxine’s tongue on her pussy.
It was great footage – that priceless, genuine moment that was rare in reality, and even rarer on film. Hannah’s body began to ripple, and then the crashing waves of her orgasm dashed against her and left her spent and exhausted.
Maxine turned her face slowly to the camera. She licked her lips with a blissful expression of guilty pleasure.
“Cut,” I murmured softly.
I shut the camera down and handed it to Walter. I turned, and Connie was standing there, right behind me. There was a hectic flush of color on her cheeks and something decadent in her eyes. She glanced passed my shoulder to where the two actresses lay, and then her eyes shifted back to mine.
“Well? What did you think of that?”
Connie shook her head, made a wide-eyed expression. “I honestly don’t know what I think,” she said.
I frowned. “How do you feel?”
She made a mouth like she was gulping for air. She sounded breathless.
“I… I thought it would be like some kind of perverse lecherous scene… like the kind of thing men in dark raincoats would watch through bedroom windows,” Connie said. “I thought it would be like a vulgar voyeuristic thing…” she tried again.
I watched her, bemused.
She shook her head. “But it wasn’t like that at all. I found myself being quite disconnected from the sex,” she confessed. “Even though I didn’t have a camera in my hand, watching what just took place became like a practical exercise – moving around to film from different angles felt more like a function rather than a creepy fantasy.”
I shrugged. “I’ll take that,” I said. “At least you didn’t hate it.”
“I don’t think the finished scene you put in your movie is anything I would ever watch, Mr. Cassidy… I’m not saying that,” Connie insisted primly. “What I am saying is I can understand that in your role as a filmmaker, I now appreciate that making movies like this is not some sleazy way to get cheap thrills – it seems to involve a lot more creative and practical considerations than I had first expected.”
I threw my head back and laughed, and then impulsively slapped her on the shoulder. “Spoken like a fucking politician!” I smiled. “You just said a whole lot, without saying a damn thing at all.”
Connie pursed her lips. Apparently she had decided she had said more than enough.
Chapter 9.
The shade of the living room was a cool relief after filming in the midday sun. I went straight to the kitchen and filled a glass with whiskey. As a compromise to the heat, I dropped in two cubes of ice.
“Would you like something to drink, Connie?”
She nodded. “Anything non-alcoholic, thanks.”
I screwed up my face. “Shit… I don’t know if we have anything that doesn’t contain alcohol.”
Connie smiled thinly. “Water would be fine.”
I carried her drink to her, and we stood close together in an awkward uncomfortable silence like strangers on a blind date. Muted sounds of water running hummed in the background. Connie cocked an ear.
“Shower,” I said. “Everyone will be taking turns, or maybe even sharing the shower.”
Connie nodded and did a thing with her lips that made it clear to me that she didn’t want to know anymore. So I explained…
“After we film a scene everyone showers,” I said, rolling my tongue gloatingly around the next words, “and often the girls get in together and soap up each other’s glistening smooth bodies until they’re covered in creamy bubbles of lather…”
Connie tried to stifle a grimace.
“… and sometimes the guys join in as well. It’s amazing how quickly porn actors can get hard again, even straight after filming a sex scene like the one we just did,” I twisted the knife with merciless delight. “Hell, I’ve known times when the shower after filming turns into some massive orgy of flesh. In fact, I bet if we went into that bathroom right now…”
“I get it!” Connie snapped.
She was angry – my job was done. I finished my drink and went back to the kitchen for a refill. I caught a glimpse of the big clock on the wall. “I have a couple of hours now until I shoot my scene with the young blonde,” I said. “I will need to spend some of that time talking to her and preparing her for filming, but the rest of the time is for you,” I bowed to her in a magnanimous gesture. “Would you like to ask your questions now, or would you prefer to cool down for a while?”
Connie set her glass down on a coffee table. “I’d like to ask my questions now if that’s okay.” I came back into the living room, but I didn’t sit down. Connie settled herself on the sofa and flipped through her notebook until she found a blank page while I wandered around in aimless circles, dodging furniture.
“So how did you end up performing in the porn industry? I can’t believe it was a career choice.”
I smiled. “It was, actually,” I said. “Working in porn was something I aspired to when I was still a teenager.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
Connie made a note of that and looked back up into my eyes. “So tell me.”
“My story?”
“Yes. Tell me how you got your big break – I assume there was one, right?”
I nodded. “There was,” I agreed. “But my introduction to the industry was not conventional… and it’s quite a long story.”
Connie sat back and crossed her legs. The pen in her hand hovered over the blank page. She shrugged. “Well…?”
“The first work I got was actually as a male model,” I said. “I was doing boring stud stuff – photo shoots for clothes… and in my spare time I was approaching local porn film producers. But they didn’t want me. They said I was too handsome. They said I would be better suited to gay films.”
“Because of your looks?”
I nodded. “The whole model thing,” I shrugged. “It pissed me off.”
“So what did you do?”
“I sulked,” I admitted. “I had this dream of being a successful male porn actor, and no one would even let me audition. For a few months, I gave up, and then I decided to change the way I looked.”
Connie was scribbling notes quickly. “Did that affect your modeling work?”
“Yeah,” I said. “The agencies stopped calling.”
“How did you change your look?”
“I got scruffy,” I said. “ I grew a short beard and a moustache. I was nineteen, so it took months. Then one night I went to a restaurant where I knew a big producer was having dinner. I wore ripped old jeans and a t-shirt.”
She held up her hand to cut me off with dreary impatience. “And the producer saw you, realized you were a star in the making, and gave you the lead role in his next skin flick, right?”
“Wrong,” I said. “What happened was more bizarre. When I went to the restaurant, the man I wanted to see was having dinner with his wife. The restaurant was crowded – maybe thirty people enjoying a quiet meal. I walked in, went to his table and stood there, demanding he give me an audition because I wanted to be a porn actor.”
“Just li
ke that?”
I nodded.
“In front of all of those people and his wife?”
