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I nodded again. “In front of everyone.”
She leaned forward, suspecting there was more I hadn’t yet revealed. “So what did the guy say?”
I smiled, recalling the night and the look on the producer’s face when I had confronted him. “He looked me up and down and grunted. He told me that it was one thing to talk the talk, but if I wanted to be a porn actor I first had to learn how to walk the walk. More than that, he told me a porn actor was expected to perform in front of film crews. He was daring me – challenging me. I could see it in his eyes.”
“So what did you do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “The guy was a famous producer. All I wanted was a chance to prove myself. Then he got up from his chair and stood right in front of me. ‘Can you fuck in front of a crowd, boy?’ he asked me. I nodded. The truth was that I didn’t know. But I wanted a chance so desperately that I told him I could.”
“And he gave you the chance?”
“Yes… but not on a film set. The chance I got was right then, as we were standing in the restaurant.”
Connie frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he stood there and told me he wanted to watch me fuck his wife. He wanted me to bend her over the restaurant table and fuck her in front of the other diners. If I got hard, and if I satisfied his wife, he would give me the chance.”
“You’re kidding!” Connie’s voice sounded scandalized.
I wasn’t. I shook my head.
Connie leaned forward. “What happened?”
I took a long gulp of my drink. “The producer’s wife was a Spanish woman,” I said. “She was about thirty. She had long straight black hair, flawless honey-brown skin, and exotic Mediterranean features. She was wearing one of those Spanish kind of off-the-shoulder blouses,” I made crazy hand signals trying to describe how it had puffy sleeves and held together with elastic. “You know the kind?”
Connie nodded.
“Well when the producer told her to stand up, she turned to me and there was a sly taunting smile on her lips and a flash of something wicked and daring in her eyes. So I tugged her blouse down, and her breasts bounced free.”
“In front of everyone?”
“In front of the whole restaurant,” I confirmed.
“And what did this woman’s husband do?”
“Nothing.”
“What about the woman? What did she do?”
“She stood there. Her eyes never left my face.”
Connie gasped and then asked with slow caution, “Is this story true?”
I nodded. “Every word of it,” I said. “I cupped the woman’s breasts and she arched her back, so I took one of her nipples in my mouth and wrapped my arm around her waist. She was wearing a long skirt, but I couldn’t work out how to unfasten it,” I shook my head ruefully and my smile was embarrassed. “I spent five damn minutes trying to work out how to get her fucking dress off, and all the while I’m sucking on her breasts and she’s moaning and groaning with her fingers tugging at my hair.
“Meanwhile everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and were gathering around like spectators at a boxing match. Finally, I gave up on the damn skirt. I spun the woman around and put my hand in the middle of her back. She folded forward at the waist and gripped the edge of the table. I lifted the skirt up over her waist and fucked her while she stared across the table at her husband.”
“My god,” Connie breathed.
“My god is right!” I said. “I had hold of this sexy woman’s hips, and I was driving my cock into her like there was no tomorrow. You see, I was desperate to make an impression. I wanted to be a porn actor more than anything and I realized this was my one chance not only to start my career but also to spark a legend. So I fucked this woman so furiously that the bottle of red wine they were sharing for dinner overturned on the table and spilled into the producer’s lap.”
“But you got the acting job, right?” Connie asked softly.
“Yeah, I got the job… and two days later I got to fuck the producer’s wife again.”
“What? He made you audition again?”
I shook my head. “No… I just got to fuck his wife again… and again… and again. We ended up having an affair that lasted several months. Hell, I screwed that woman so many times I now know every Spanish swear word.”
Connie had stopped writing. She was just staring up at me while I wandered in circles aimlessly about the room. For some reason, I kept circling back towards the kitchen, and I figured that meant I needed another drink.
“So… at some point you made the leap from just being a well performing actor in other people’s films, to a producer yourself. Tell me how that happened.”
I finished pouring my drink, dropped two cubes of ice into the glass and considered the question. “I got sick,” I said.
A look of stricken horror suddenly washed over Connie’s face. Her hand clamped across her mouth. “My god, you haven’t got HIV… have you?”
I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I got bronchitis.”
“Bronchitis? That’s all?”
I nodded. “That’s right – but I was ill for several months, and I lost a lot of my physical condition and some weight. I also lost some of my passion for performing. That’s when I decided that I needed a new level of performance creativity – I need new challenges.”
Connie made some notes and then glanced up again. “And so you started producing your own films?”
“No. I started making it a condition that when I performed in other people’s films, I got the chance to direct some of the scenes. I knew that if I was going to ever become a film producer I had to learn about lighting and camera angles and sound – and the things I had picked up from performing on set weren’t enough. I needed practical experience, so I started shooting scenes and becoming more involved in mapping out the way a scene was going to unfold. I didn’t make the leap to movie producer until just a few years ago,” I said.
Connie thought for a moment. “And that’s when you built the facilities in Europe.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I wanted the whole process under one roof – the sets and the post production facilities, so I bought several acres of land in the Czech republic and spent half of all the money I had earned in building a massive house, gardens and a tennis court. A year later I had a large warehouse built that houses all the production equipment upstairs and has several interior sets on the ground level.” I swallowed my drink in one gulp and Connie gave me a quizzical eye.
“Is that when you developed a drinking problem?” she looked at me pointedly.
I shook my head. “Connie, I don’t have a problem drinking. It’s when I stop drinking I have a problem.”
She didn’t smile. The woman had no sense of humor.
“Anyhow… the land I bought has a river running through it and there was some grassy marshland that I had excavated and turned into a shallow water pond. It means now that I have twenty different locations I can use for filming, all within a few miles of my production facilities… and that means I can produce quality films in an endless variety of locations and with the cost savings that come with that kind of convenience. Make sense?”
Connie nodded a grudging agreement. “Yes…” she said, “it does actually. It sounds to me like you have just taken the Hollywood model for film making and creating something similar – on a smaller scale – in Europe.”
I winked. “That’s exactly what I did, and Hollywood was my inspiration. The big difference is that my films don’t cost a hundred million dollars to produce.”
Connie bowed her head over her notebook and wrote furiously for the next few minutes. I screwed the lid tight on the whiskey bottle and filled my glass with water. I took a sip. The stuff tasted like shit – but at least it gave me a moment where I felt puffed up with virtue.
I waite
d until Connie finished writing before draining the rest of my drink.
(I wanted her to see me).
She looked disapproving. “Vodka is no different to whiskey,” she said.
“That was water,” I said. I felt cheated.
“Of course it was,” she said dryly. “Now can you tell me about the health risks involved in the industry? Surely having unprotected sex with so many women is like playing Russian roulette with your life.”
I smiled, and slowly unscrewed the cap off the bottle of whiskey again…
“This is a constant criticism,” I said, “and to someone outside of the industry, I can understand the fear. You are right – on the surface the idea of having unprotected sex with literally thousands of partners would seem like suicidal madness,” I agreed. “But… the industry isn’t like that, Connie. I have regular health checks – and I never miss one. And I insist that every single actress I work with and every single actor who performs in my films produce a current medical certificate before they walk on set. I’m very strict about that – it is one of my cardinal rules that I will not break for anyone, for any reason. If an actress appears on set for filming and she cannot produce a current certificate, then she simply doesn’t work. Regular health checks are mandatory in the established porn industry.”
“And everyone plays by these rules, Rick?”
I shook my head. “I can’t vouch for every film maker out there – I can only tell you my rules for my films. But I can tell you that every other established producer that I know has the same rule.” I suddenly became animated. I waved my arms in the air like I was being attacked by a swarm of bees. “Porn actors and actresses aren’t idiots, Connie. They – more than most people – understand the importance of staying healthy and being checked regularly. No actress I know would willingly take the risk of performing in a film with other actors who didn’t have a clean bill of health.”
“What about the age of the girls, Rick?”
Discreetly, I poured a half glass of whiskey…
