Wednesday afternoon around three I was at the mansion, getting ready to head back home, when I heard a Harley pull in the driveway. It could only be Jane. She came into my office with a stressed look on her face, dropping her helmet and gloves on the sofa opposite me. She still had her sunglasses on.
"School administration is starting to work my last nerve," she said, and flopped in my lap. "They gave me such grief when I showed up and told them I needed another parking permit. The old bat at the counter is telling me, 'But you already have three on file.' Yeah, and now I have a fourth vehicle I'll be driving to school, okay? I'm not parking anything out on the street."
"They did give you the parking permit though, right?" I asked.
"Grudgingly. They act like it's a big headache." She squirmed in my lap in a manner I was not comfortable with. "We still going shopping today, daddy?" she asked.
"Yes we are, and don't wiggle like that."
"How about like this?" She began overtly grinding her ass into my crotch, then grabbed my head and augured her tongue in my mouth. I pushed her away.
"We've talked about this," I said. "What's up with you? You know I won't have you."
She gave a feral grin and said, "I haven't been alone with Lance for days, and I'm going nuts. Dammit, I need some release. And I don't want a boy, I want a man. Maybe it's 'cos I miss Lance, but you've been on my mind in a big way. Take me upstairs and fuck me. Do any nasty thing you want. Spank me, call me a bitch, come on my face, I don't care. Do me."
I stood up, dumping her on the floor. "No," was all I said.
She smiled up at me. "You're a tough cookie, Lenny."
I helped her to her feet. I said, "Okay, first of all, if I wanted strange pussy, look at where I work. No shortage of it, and all of it willing. Second, I don't fuck little girls. To me, you're still a little girl. And lastly, you're the one who said you'd never fuck a married man. Why are so eager to make an exception for me? Do you know what Bekka would do to you if I told her about this little offer you made? Fucking adjust to it, girl, you can't have me. Get over it."
Jane gave me a sad look. "You really love Bekka, don't you? Even though she spends her days fucking other guys?"
"Damn right I love her. And we've explained to you a hundred times, it's not fucking, it's performance."
"Maybe I love you, and want to show you how much I love you. Bekka too. What better way than fucking?"
"You can't show everyone you love them by fucking them."
"Yes you can," she grinned. But it was a sick grin.
I got a cold feeling down my spine. "Why do you call me daddy?" I asked.
She turned away, but not before I saw the tears run down her face. She wiped her eyes with her palms.
"Answer me," I said.
She looked straight at me. The tears were now pouring. She said, "The first few times he forced himself, but after that I gave it up willingly. How could I say no, he told me how much he loved me. And I loved him. How could I say no, I knew it was sick, but he taught me to want him. He was my daddy, he would never do anything to hurt me.... Right?"
She collapsed on my chest sobbing. I held her and stroked her head, and she cried and cried and cried.
She looked up and said, "That's how I know to show people I like them. I love you and Bekka. Why won't you let me show you how much I love you?"
I said, "Pet, you show us that with your smile. You show it by saying thank you. You don't need to do any more...."
"But y'all so good to me. I mean, I live in a house on the beach, and you helped me get in school, and I have a car to drive, and.... And.... Y'all don't want anything back. It's all I have to offer, why won't you take it?"
"Because we love you for you. You don't owe anything to us, least of all that. Accept that. You're our friend, and you don't need to give up your pussy just to be friends with us. We love Jane for being Jane, and that's all."
She clung to me tightly. "Are you really okay with us not foolin' around? I mean, I think you're sexy, so if you want to...."
I grabbed her chin and pointed it at me. "Shush, little girl. I'm happy hugging Jane, the little gator bait that appeared in my life. Relax, and know that people love you without you needing to give up anything to them."
She cried a little more, then said, "You won't tell Bekka about this, will you?"
I stroked her temple. "I think you should tell Bekka about it yourself. She should know where you're coming from. She's part of this too."
"She won't be pissed?"
"Oh, I'm sure she'll be pissed at first, but once you explain things to her, the way you did to me, she'll relax and understand. What you've told me explains a lot. Don't worry, she won't hurt you."
She looked up at me with glistening eyes. "Let's go shopping, da-- Lenny."
"You good to drive the Sportster?" I asked.
"I think it'll do me good," she responded. "Lenny, do you really love me?"
I pulled her close and ruffled her hair. "I really do. I just don't show it in the way you seem to be used to."
She wrapped her arms around me and said, "Thank you."
I followed her home in the Cadillac. She rode like a model pilot, although she left lights quickly. I was punching the gas to keep up. At home, Bekka said, "I was ready to call the mansion to see where you were. What was the hold-up?"
Peeling off her gloves, Jane said, "Bekka, we need to talk on the way into San Diego. Will you ride in the back seat with me?"
And Jane told all as we drove to Berlin Wall. Bekka was angry at first, then sad, then angry again. I ignored their conversation, this had to be between the two of them, two women talking. I sat up front piloting the Fleetwood, trying to work out the psychology of a man who would do that to his own daughter. I couldn't. There was just anger, and the urge to head to Gainesville and teach a lesson to Mr. Osborne. The tears flowed freely in the back seat.
By the time we reached Berlin Wall there was reconciliation, and understanding, and a lot of hugging. The girls were correcting their makeup while I parked. We went in, Bekka and Jane heading for the clothes racks to see what was new. I told the goth girl at the front counter, "We need to buy three leather jackets, ones that fit. We're that rare breed of customer that buys motorcycle jackets with the purpose of motorcycling in mind."
She grabbed her tape measure and sized the three of us up, then went in back and emerged with three leathers. "You're lucky, we stock smaller sizes, we actually have one that will fit blue girl, here."
The salesgirl was disturbed when I took off my denim, revealing my shoulder holster. "You a cop?" she asked.
"Farthest thing from it," I said. "It's a long story."
The salesgirl said, "The mafia, huh? Whatever."
There were plenty of zippered pockets on the jacket. I slipped it on and zipped it up. The bulge from my Beretta was barely noticeable. To the distress of the salesgirl I pulled out my pistol and dropped the clip out of it. The clip fit well inside an inner pocket.
"Hey Bekka," I called, "I can start carrying a spare clip."
"Getting to my Colt wearing this is gonna be a bitch," she called back. "I may swap out my baby Beretta into my waist holster, and keep the Colt in my purse."
"Well, you got the pockets for spare clips for both now. How does it feel?"
"Invincible. I like it."
Jane was overjoyed with hers. "I always wanted a leather, but could never find one my size. Are you going to decorate yours?"
"Probably. Do they sell leather paints here?"
"We do," the salesgirl spoke. "We also sell loose studs and spikes. We've also got a guy who will do the work for you, just tell him what design you want."
I shrugged. "Nah, that's half the fun. I can paint the Subhumans logo on by myself, and since these jackets are actually going to be used for riding a motorcycle, I don't know if I want too many sharp things sticking off of them. We just bought our first Harley-Davidson, see, and we're sharing it while we learn. I want everyone safe, so helmets and leathers are the rule of the day. Oh, and the girls want steel toed engineers in their size. Got 'em?"
"I'll have to check," our goth clerk said warily. "You're going to carry a gun when you ride?"
"It goes on first thing in the morning, and comes off last thing at night. Me and my wife have the unfortunate habit of being shot at, so we both carry concealed. It's just how life is."
"What about blue girl?"
"She wants one, but she's too young to carry. No way could she have one at school."
"Huh." The clerk called Bekka and Jane over to the shoe section, grabbed one of those size measuring thingys, and got their foot sizes. She disappeared into the back and came out bearing two boxes containing engineer boots. They fit well.
"Stiff," commented Bekka.
"They'll loosen up as you get them broken in," the goth girl said. "Try to wear them every day, and they'll be much better in about a week and a half. Same with the jackets, they get more comfortable the longer you wear them."
The clerk rang us up for the jackets and boots. As I signed the receipt, she said, "I've gotta say, even without the guns, I wouldn't want to fuck with any of you, the way you look."
I smiled and said, "We're just a nice family from North County. If only our lives weren't so strange. Say, you like Ecstasy?"
She gave me a wary look and said, "Um, sure. Why?"
I called Bekka over and asked for the Ecstasy. Bekka handed me the Tic Tac container she used for storing the pills. I shook two out and placed them on the counter. "One for you, one for the special someone in your life. One of those and you'll be in love with the world."
She still looked wary. "How do I know I won't get sick or something?"
Bekka reached in her purse again and pulled out a generic Inana Productions business card, and wrote "Becky Page and Lenny" across the back. "There, now we're not strangers," she said.
The goth clerk picked up the card and stared at it. Then she said, "Hey, wait, you do porn, don't you?"
"That's me," said Bekka. "Becky Page, in the flesh."
"My boyfriend is all hung up on you. Could I get your autograph? I'm gonna make him sick with jealousy when he finds out I met you. But who are you?" she asked me.
"I run the studio. Lemme guess, your boyfriend really likes the movie Bewitched, right? Next time you watch it, or any of the other features Becky here is in, check the credit roll at the beginning. You'll see the name Leonard Schneider come up as the producer. That's me. I'm never in front of the cameras. I leave that to the professionals."
"Too crazy," said the clerk. "So what's it like?"
"It's harder work than people think," said Bekka. "We always explain to people that it's not just fucking in front of a camera. It's performance."
Jane came up with a handful of band pins to buy. "You guys talking about work?" she asked.
"Yeah. By the way, this is Jane. She's our teenage ward."
"Hi," said Jane. "I'm too young to work for them, but as soon as I turn eighteen, look out!"
Bekka frowned at her. "That's what you think. We told you we'd discuss that when the time comes. And you have time to wait."
"Humph. You know they won't even let me watch them work?"
The goth clerk said, "Maybe that's for the best. The movies would lose a lot of their magic if you watched them being made."
"That, and it's illegal for you to be on a set at your age," I told Jane. "Your eighteenth birthday you get to sit in on a shoot."
The clerk asked, "Are you guys hiring?"
"I'll always interview," I told her. "You want to make porn?"
"It's crossed my mind. I think it'd be a good way to pick up some extra money. And I already shave my pussy."
"That's nice. Can you work from a script? Can you take stage direction? Can you handle sex with a guy you met ten minutes earlier?"
"You mentioned a boyfriend," said Bekka. "What will his opinion be of this little expansion of your work life? And can you handle having sex for two or three hours at a time, even if you're not in the mood for it? You don't have to convince one guy you're enjoying it, you have to convince a whole audience, all of whom have seen and heard it before."
The goth clerk had a confident gleam in her eye. She said, "I think I can handle it. And so far as my boyfriend goes, he'll probably get off on being able to say he's dating a porn star."
"Stardom takes a little while. I've been in the industry seven years or so, and I just made Penthouse in June, I was that month's Pet. I've also been in Hustler, Fox, and Gallery. It took me a long time to get there though. Hundreds of hours of fucking under hot lights with guys I thought were idiots."
I cut off Bekka. "I didn't know I was matching you up with idiots."
"Vince is an idiot. Eddie is an idiot. Chip is an idiot. Dale is an idiot."
"Okay, Vince is an idiot, I'll give you that. But Chip and Dale are both just kinda simple, they're nice guys. And Eddie is a clown, and a great performer. It helps that he's got that nine inch dick."
Bekka turned to the clerk and said, "That's another thing. I hope your cervix isn't set too low, because you'll be dealing with guys who are pretty big, if you get me. Good control of your gag reflex is important, too."
The clerk smirked and said, "I could take a garden hose down my throat. Does that help?"
"That's a plus," I said. "Do you do anal?"
"I have. Not my favorite, but I can take it with no complaints."
"This is the important one. Have you ever done any acting?"
"Well.... I was in drama club in high school. Does that help?"
"It does," Bekka beamed. "We like to move people up from doing loops into appearing in full features. You need to act in both, but what people expect out of a performer in a loop is different than what's asked of you in a feature. Loops never go away though, they pay the rent."
Jane butted in. "See, I can do all this, but they won't let me perform. It sucks."
I grabbed Jane by the ear. "Hello! You're underage! I'm not going to prison for you!"
She moved my hand. "I know. It still sucks though. I wish we were in Europe, where the age of consent is lower."
Bekka laughed at this and said, "I like being in a country with reliable plumbing."
The clerk looked at me and asked, "So what should I do?"
I said, "You've got our business card right there. Call and schedule an interview. It will be the first of a few. The first one is to get to know you better and see if you can work from a script. Don't worry, you work through that first one with your clothes on. The second one we ask you to come in with no makeup and no product in your hair, because our hair and makeup genius is going to shape you. You'll also spend plenty of time with your legs spread, because we're going to take pictures of you while giving you stage direction. The third interview is you, a video camera, a director, and a porn stud. You're fucking on film. I've had girls get through that final interview and still not be put on the list to work. Oh, and between the second and third interview you'll be sent for a blood test. We test weekly where I am, and there are no exceptions. You don't test, or your test comes back positive for anything, you don't work. No exceptions. Got all that?"
She smiled and said, "Expect a call from me on Monday. Sure you guys can handle a goth girl around?"
Bekka smile back. "They've dealt with my hipster ass for over seven years now. You've not lived until you filmed a three-on-three fuck scene with Big Black playing in the background."
Jane groused, "And see, if I played Big Black while I was fucking my boyfriend, I'd just scare him. It's not fair."
I said, "Easy, Gator Bait. Your turn will come."
The clerk asked, "You're really using those to ride motorcycles?"
She shrugged. "I'm just used to selling them to punk rock boys who want to look cool."
I said, "This punk rock boy always wore denim. C'mon, we're in San Diego, it doesn't get cold enough to justify owning a leather, unless you ride a bike. If we hadn't just bought a Harley, I would find no justifications for owning them. Screw style. By the way, what's your name?"
"Just call me Sue."
"Okay. Well Sue, I hope to hear from you on Monday. Remember, you have to be able to act as well as fuck. If you're not up to it, don't waste our time. Dig it?"
"Got it. By the way, do you do scenes with girls together?"
"Yes we do. Is that a problem?"
"No. In fact I think your wife is kinda hot."
I laughed. "Keep reaching for that brass ring. Talk to you on Monday."
The three of us went out and down to the Fleetwood. I said, "Look, it's about dinnertime, you wanna get something to eat down here?"
Bekka said, "Yeah. We've all got our brand new leathers and engineer boots on, let's hit one of those tourist places in the Gaslamp District."
We stashed our old jackets and shoes in the trunk. We considered things and decided to leave the Fleetwood in its legal spot and walk, the girls breaking in their new boots. Five minutes brisk walking brought us into the Gaslamp.
"Where to eat?" I asked, unzipping my new leather. It was warm.
"Someplace with good burgers," suggested Jane. "I'd kill for meat right about now."
We located a TGI Friday's and went in, taking a table near the bar. I asked for double Johnnie Walkers over ice all around, which were brought to the table without question. Jane still had her "I'm over twenty-one" mojo working.
We got a basket of fried objects to snack on while we perused the menus. An Angus burger sounded fine to me. The girls were leaning towards steaks. As we sat there sipping scotch we were accosted by a drunk businessman type, beer in his hand.
"Y'know, you folks don't fit in here," he said.
"We don't fit in much of anyplace," Jane told him.
"So what brings you on by?" he asked.
"Believe it or not, dinner," said Bekka. "And you?"
"Oh, I'm a regular. They're good people here. Are you in some kinda gang?"
Bekka laughed. "No."
"We are criminals, though," I said.
The businessman laughed. "You all look like criminals, dressed the way you are! So what sorta crimes do you do?"
"Well, we make porn, but that's not illegal. However, we are indirectly responsible for the flood of Ecstasy hitting the state. 25,000 hits per week, not counting what gets given away."
He noticed my Beretta poking out underneath my jacket. "Are you wearing a gun?" he asked.
I flashed him a grin. "I am, so is she," I said, pointing in Bekka's direction. Bekka obliged him by unzipping her leather all the way, parting her blouse, and pulling out her Colt, which she set on the table. He stared, bug-eyed.
"Are you cops or criminals?" he asked.
"Criminals," Bekka assured him. "We're in the mafia. So what do you do for a living?"
"Umm.... I'm in real estate law."
"So, mister real estate lawyer, you wanna get high tonight? Here...." Bekka reached into her purse and extracted the Tic Tac container, and knocked a pill free. She reached out to hand it to our new friend.
I said, "The worst it can do is kill you, the best it can do is make you love the world. It's kind of up to you as to what happens. And if you're that afraid, we're gonna be sitting here for a while. We're ordering dinner, gonna have a few more drinks all around. You feel funny, you can come talk to us."
The drunk lawyer stared at the pill in his hand. "Aw, what the hell," he said, and knocked back the pill with a swallow of his beer.
Jane looked up at him and said, "In an hour we'll just be finishing our meals. Stop by and let us know how you feel. Does that work?"
"Yeah, no problem," he said. "Saaay, I recognize you. Where do I know you from?" he asked Bekka.
"It depends," she responded. "Do you read Penthouse? Or Gallery? Or Hustler?"
"Hey," he said, "You were a Penthouse Pet just a few months ago! Oh wow, what are you doing here?"
"Having dinner with my husband and a friend. Even Pets need to eat."
"You were hot! Wait a minute, your husband...?"
"How you doing," I muttered, signalling the waitress for a fresh round and to place our orders.
"B-but the profile said you were single," moaned our real estate lawyer.
Bekka said, "They also said I was twenty-two. I'm twenty-eight. They print what sounds good. Never believe the press."
"And you're sitting here...."
".... Wearing a gun, in the company of criminals who are also wearing guns, and waiting to order dinner. Why is your mind so blown?"
He seized up on us. "Tell you what, I'll do what you said, I'll wait until you've finished your meals, then I'll come back. What's that pill gonna do to me?"
"It will make you very happy," said Jane.
An hour later I was mopping french fries through ketchup and pondering dessert when our friend returned. He was missing his tie and had unbuttoned his shirt halfway down. He looked manic. If I saw the same face on someone in a dark street, I'd have already had my Beretta in my hand.
"You guys didn't lie, the world really is an okay place!" he announced. "I can see so much right now, I don't know how I missed it all this time, I hadn't realized what a cool place we live in is! Thank you!" He bent over and kissed Bekka on the forehead, then Jane, then me. He yelled "Thank you!" one more time, then headed for the exit.
"Good Ecstasy can catch some people unaware," commented Bekka.
"I hope I wasn't like that my first time," said Jane.
"You weren't manic, you were just horny," I said, finishing my fries.
Bekka said, "He's going to have a lot to answer for at work over the next few days. His decision-making synapses are shot."
"Just so long as we're not reading about him in the paper," I muttered. "That's all I ask."