Sunday, April 3, 2016

Celebrity (Part 3)

     On Thursday at six Bekka, Jane and I gathered around the TV to watch the CBS national broadcast.  We were about to get proof of Bekka's national prominence.  Broadcast news didn't lie, not even over at ABC.  We kept hearing about how revolutionary Becky Page was, and we wanted to learn how.  Never  mind that "Becky Page" was my wife, and I knew both her and the dominant party in the mix, Bekka.

     We sat through the usual tales of war and stupidity and economics, when the female talking head said, "And when we return, we'll be taking a look at adult film sensation Becky Page.  Please stay tuned."
     We waited through the commercials, then came this: he same talking head said, "Her name is Becky Page.  She's a self-described 'porn slut,' and she is changing the way people think about both adult entertainment and female sexuality.  Ross McGowan takes a closer look."
     McGowan:  "Becky Page has no agent.  She has no publicist.  What PR work she needs is taken care of through her studio, Inana Productions.  Yet through the strength of several highly popular feature-length videos and a lot of word of mouth, Becky Page has become the modern face of both female sexuality and post-feminist female empowerment."
     Cut to a shot of her and me at Eroticon, being interviewed by the CBS Los Angeles affiliate.  We'd given no thought to it at the time, it seemed like a make-work project for the CBS crew, asking us questions about Bewitched.  Bekka was saying, "The characters I play have to have strength.  I won't play weak women or airheads...."
     Cut again to a scene in Dangerous Desires.  Vince is seated in a chair in Bekka's office.  Bekka is standing behind him, pressing a gun behind his ear and rubbing his chest.  She's saying, "You have two choices.  You can relax, and talk, or you can suffer.  If you want, I'll help you relax.  Which will it be?"
     The shot then cuts to a gaggle of teenage girls in a park.  All have severe makeup and deep red lipstick.  Two are wearing (bootleg) Becky Page t-shirts, a couple have the haircut.  In voice-over, McGowan says, "For someone whose videos are by law restricted to an adult audience, Becky Page has a surprising number of teenage fans, and young women at that.  We talked to these fans in Los Angeles...."
     The interviewer, out of shot, says, "So you're all fans of Becky Page."
     "Oh yeah," all the girls respond.
     "What is her appeal?"
     One girls says, "Becky kicks butt.  She doesn't take any (BEEP), and she's just....  She's sex personified.  She's a female sex god.  She's strong."
     McGowan in voice-over: "We spoke with Ashley Richards, director of Women's Studies at UC Irvine."
     Richards, a woman behind a desk in an office, is saying, "Page is unusual in porn in that all her roles are powerful.  You watch her sex scenes and you realize that not only is she rarely passive, she is often the aggressor.  I can see how that image would have an impact on young women, it shows they can be the ones in charge.  They're allowed to set limits and make demands."
     McGowan: "No one seems more surprised by her popularity than Page herself.  We interviewed her at her home on the beach, just north of San Diego."
     Bekka, sitting on the love seat, is shown saying, "I'm lucky, my private life has stayed private.  Really, other than being recognized on the street and asked for autographs, not much has changed for me....  I don't mind the autograph hounds, that only happens a half dozen times a week...."
     "And how does she feel about the youth of her fans?" asked McGowan in voice-over.
     "I'm surprised but flattered.  In a way it makes sense.  Instead of aping the fashion sense of some rock or pop star that their parents hate, they found a different source of friction, a porno queen named Becky Page.  That should scare their parents.  I am a bit curious as to where these girls get their media from.  But as far as being bothered, no...."
     Cut back to Prof. Richards saying, "I have to admit, if I had a teenage daughter, I would be concerned if she started imitating someone as sexually aggressive as Becky Page."
     "And aggressive she is," says McGowan's voice as a clip from Dangerous Desires spools out.  Edited with blue circles, it shows a smiling Bekka saying, "You're thinking too much.  Drop your pants," to Dale while grabbing his belt with one hand and pulling her blouse open with the other, showing she's not wearing a bra.  It cuts to another heavily-edited shot of her mounting Dale on the floor.
     Cut to a shot of Angel sitting behind his desk in his home office.  He is saying, "Becky is an absolute dream to work with.  She has true acting talent, and if you ask me, she is by far the smartest person in the entire industry."  A bar at the bottom of the screen identifies him as Angel Morelli, owner, Inana Productions.
     Back to McGowan, shown standing in front of a shop window in which a PG Becky Page poster hangs.  He says, "All stardom can be fleeting.  Becky Page has been in the industry for eight years, and shows no signs of moving on or fading away.  It will be interesting to see what awaits her.  Back to you."
     The female talking head closed things off by saying, "Viewers may remember Ms. Page was involved in a shooting incident at her studio this past summer, in which she and her husband subdued a gunman using their own weapons.  Her husband, Lenny Schneider, was shot five times in the altercation but recovered completely.  Over to you, Lawrence...."
     I hit Mute, then leaned over and rested my hand on the phone sitting on the coffee table.  "Five.... Four.... Three.... Two.... One...." I said.
     The phone rang, and I picked it up.  "Hello?"
     It was Angel, and he was pumped.  "Lenny!  Did you just see that?"
     "Of course.  I was wondering how they were going to play it.  They didn't mention the studio much, but I think we came off looking well.  This should boost sales overall, we'll move a lot of catalog merchandise if nothing else.  Did you want to talk to Bekka?"
     "Yes, absolutely.  Put her on."
     I handed the phone over.  She said, "Hello, Angel?....  Thank you.  I could never have done it without you, you know that....  What?....  No, of course not.  I've got Lenny for that....  We'll see how things play out.  We're going to head to dinner right now, that should be a good test....  Okay, bye."
     Bekka hung up the phone and said, "Angel wants me to have a bodyguard.  Like, someone always with me.  He'd get some brick of meat connected with the family to stay with us and always be at my side.  No way.  I'd rather take the risk and keep my privacy.  No sense in lying to Angel, what shall we do for dinner?"
     "How about Cantina Acapulco down in Old Town?" I suggested.  "That sound good to you, Jane?"
     Jane said, "That sounds great.  I could go for their shrimp kebabs.  Hey Bekka, how'd you like to meet me at school tomorrow on your putt?  It would really fuck with people, and we could go for a ride up to Julian or something."
     Bekka smirked and said, "Sure.  You could reintroduce me to your teachers and administrators.  They'd understand who the bad influence is in your life.  In the meantime, pull your shoes on.  Let's head for Old Town and get in line for a table."
     We hopped in the Fleetwood and headed for San Diego's Old Town neighborhood, a tourist area with about nine hundred curio shops and a selection of decent restaurants.  The theme was Old Mexico.  We parked in one of the public lots and walked the four blocks to the cantina.  Not surprisingly, there was a wait for a table, so we waited in the bar.  We already knew from past experience that Jane would be served.
     The bar was about two-thirds full.  We were seated on stools: Bekka on the left, me on the right, Jane in the middle.  I was getting that stared-at feeling, so I took a look around.  I realized the bar TV was tuned to Channel Eight.  CBS.  Shit.  And we were definitely getting looks, Bekka was anyway.  There was certainly no mistaking who she was: with her unique hairstyle and severe makeup, there wouldn't be a lot of women in the world who would match her appearance.
     A businessman type approached Bekka.  "E-excuse me, are you really Becky Page?" he asked.
     "That would be me," she said, breaking out one of her demure smiles.
     "Wow," he said.  "I'm a fan.  I've got a couple of your videos.  My wife doesn't like them, and she'd like that I'm gonna ask for your autograph even less.  Could I please have your autograph?"
     Bekka said, "No problem, honey, what would you like me to sign?"  She reached in her purse and pulled out her Sharpie.
     "Umm....  Here."  He grabbed a clean cardboard beer coaster from the business side of the bar and handed it to her.
     Bekka considered its size and said, "I can't give you much of a message.  How about just 'Kisses, Becky Page'?"
     As Bekka wrote, a voice from a table several feet away cried out, "I think it's disgusting!"
     I looked to where the voice had come from.  It was a heavyset woman in a caftan who was glaring in our direction in a slightly unsteady manner.  Ignoring common sense, I rose to the bait and said, "What's disgusting, ma'am?"
     "She is!" came the reply.  "I teach high school, and I got girls who try to look just like her in my classes, with the see-through clothes and gobs of makeup.  I asked a few of them about it, because they distract my male students.  They tole me who she is.  Now she's just been on the damn national news.  You make dirty movies, and you've got teenage girls idolizing you.  That's disgusting!"
     Bekka handed the coaster to her fan and calmly said, "I make adult video.  I was surprised as anyone to learn I have so many young fans.  They're not legally old enough to watch my stuff, which means they're watching the videos their parents bought.  Why they've latched onto me is anyone's guess."
     The heavyset woman continued, "All I know is that I got children in my classes who idolize some woman who makes porn!  The boys are just as bad, they have pictures of you taped up in their lockers.  We have to make them pull them down.  But it's the girls who are the worst, dying their hair black and cutting it like yours, putting on all that makeup, showing off their colored bras.  Disgusting."
     I said, "So I take it you wouldn't like to have dinner with us?  Get to know us better?"
     "I don't eat dinner with whores," the woman sneered.
     Jane pivoted on her stool and jumped down, five foot five of righteous anger.  "Bitch, don't you call my friend a whore.  She's a performer."  She knocked back the rest of her Wild Turkey and stood there seething.
     "And who are you, another damn porn star?" the woman asked.
     "Ah'm a friend of the woman you're insultin'," Jane said.  "And Ah'll take it kindly if you cease and desist."  Jane's Southern accent was creeping out.  It did when she was either buzzed or upset, and she'd only had two Wild Turkeys.
     Bekka said, "Ma'am, you're stirring up a hornet's nest.  You don't like me, I get it.  Why don't you go back to your drinking and leave us in peace."
     The woman considered Jane, who was still standing there with her talons out, and muttered, "Shouldn't be allowed around respectable people."  She pointedly turned her shoulder towards us and took a swig off the gargantuan Margarita she was drinking.  Jane hopped back on her stool and waved at the barmaid for another Wild Turkey.
     The barmaid came over and served us.  She said quietly to Bekka, "Don't worry, I don't mind you being here.  I saw your article in People.  So what's it like?"
     "What's what like?" asked Bekka, even though she knew perfectly well what she meant.
     "You know, doing what you do for a living."
     "Harder work than anyone ever imagines," Bekka smiled.  "It's not just fucking in front of a camera, you actually have to be able to act to perform at my studio.  Lenny here is selective about who he brings on.  Why, are you considering a career change?"
     The barmaid gave a shy smile.  "I've thought about it.  I guess the money is pretty good, and I think I could pull it off.  But nah, it would freak out my husband."
     "Hey, I'm married," Bekka said.  "This is my husband sitting right here.  It's just performance, it doesn't mean anything."
     I pointed out, "Yeah, but that's what you were doing when we first met.  I was the still photographer, I've never known you to do anything else.  We're in kind of a unique situation."
     Jane added in, "You two are the closest couple I've ever seen.  What Bekka does hasn't affected how you two get along."
     "But I also run the damn studio.  I get to eye-fuck every woman in the place, not to mention the thing that Sue and I have going on.  I'm quite the exception.  As far as making porn and being a married couple go, me and Bekka go against the grain.  I'm sure there are other married couples in the industry, but they're few and far between."
     The barmaid broke off to serve a couple of yuppies who had come in.  By their behavior, this wasn't their first bar of the night.  The barmaid got them their margaritas and rejoined us.
     "So if I was going to give porn a try, how would I go about it?" she asked.
     "A couple ways," I said.  "Hell, you could just show up at one of the studios in LA and tell them you want to work.  They'd talk to you for ten minutes and get you into action.  If you wanted to work for my studio, you've got to go through three auditions and a blood test.  First is a script read-through, fully clothed.  That's to make sure you're literate and can work with a script.  Plenty of girls don't make it past that point.  Next is a nude photo shoot.  That's to see how confident you are being naked in front of strangers, and to check that you can follow stage direction.  Then comes a blood test, to check for HIV/AIDS and any STDs.  It's nothing personal, everybody gets a blood test weekly, myself included, and I'm not even a performer.  We'd want tests from your husband to, just to keep us happy.  The final test is a full shoot, working with one of our male performers.  It's possible to get through that and still be told no.  We pay you for the day, give you the tape we made, and wish you luck.  Inana, my studio, demands genuine performance and talent.  It's why we've done so well for ourselves.  Have you seen any of our movies?"
     "I think so," the barmaid said.  "You're the ones who make 'Bewitched,' right?  And that punk rock movie?  My husband rented those for us to watch.  I was impressed.  I guess now that I think about it, you really do insist that the people in your porn are able to act, huh?"  She turned to Jane.  "Do you work with Becky?  I don't recognize you from the video I've seen."
     "No, I'm just a friend," said Jane.
     I realized the two yuppies were leaning forward, their heads turned so they could stare at Bekka.  A couple more autograph hounds, I thought.  One slid off his stool and approached.
     "Hey, you're Becky Page, the porn star, right?" he asked.
     "That would be me," Bekka replied.
     "Far out," said the yuppie.  "Here, I've got a hell of a deal for you.  I'll give you five hundred bucks cash if you fuck me."
     "Five hundred bucks.  We go get a motel room, I'll pay for it, and we fuck for an hour or so.  That should work, right?"
     Bekka regarded him coldly.  "You seem to have mistaken me for a prostitute," she said.
     "What she does is performance," Jane threw in.
     The yuppie said, "C'mon, bitch, you fuck for money, right?  Well I got money, so let's go fuck."
     "Sir, return to your seat," said the barmaid.
     "Don't worry, I'll take care of this," I said.  I got the rest of the way off my stool and stepped up to the yuppie.  Spun him around so he was facing me.  I stomped down on one foot with an engineer boot, then bent him over backwards into the bar, one hand on his throat and the other holding his skull like a bowling ball, using his right eye as the thumb hole.  He looked shocked at my presence.
     I said, "Sir, you're really out of line.  You should watch how you talk to other men's wives."  Then I crushed my knee into his crotch.  His eyes got huge and he gasped for air.  I pulled him forward and wrapped my right arm around his neck and began dragging him back to where he'd been sitting.
     As I was dragging him, the hostess appeared in the doorway of the bar and called for Schneider, table for three.  "Be right there," I called.  I dumped him on the floor at the feet of his terrified-looking friend.  I said to the friend, "Me and my wife and friend are gonna go eat dinner now.  He doesn't leave this bar until we're done eating.  I don't care if he pisses himself, he doesn't leave.  If he comes into the dining room, I'm gonna pull his fucking head off and shit down his neck.  Got that, white boy?"
     The yuppie nodded mutely, looking every bit as green as his ball-crunched partner.  I walked over to where the girls waited and said, "Ladies, shall we go dine now?"
     I tipped off the barmaid well and handed her an Inana Productions business card.  "If you think you're up for it, give me a call," I told her.  Then the three of us followed the hostess into the dining room.  We were seated and presented with menus.
     All three of us ordered the shrimp kebabs with sides, plus a basket of hot hand-made tortillas to share.  We were about halfway through our meals when a nebbish in a tie and an apron appeared above our table.  He looked as tense as a guitar string.
     "Sir?" he warbled.  "Were you involved in an altercation in the bar earlier?"
     I chuckled and said, "Describe the altercation."  The girls smirked up at him.
     "You got into a fight with a fellow patron of the bar, the gentleman standing over there."  He gestured to the archway leading into the dining area, where my new friend was standing.  He looked as though his balls were only beginning to descend back into their normal position..
     "Hey!" I called to him.  "Didn't your friend give you the message?  After all, it's your neck that gets shit down."
     The nervous man said, "What exactly occurred?"
     I said, "Oh!  It wasn't a fight.  I assaulted him.  He mistook my wife for a prostitute, and a sleazy one at that, and offered her money for sex.  He was corrected, but instead of apologizing he called my wife a bitch.  So I thumbed him in the eye and kneed him in the balls and threw him to the ground where he'd been sitting.  Quite simple, really.  Why did you want to know?"
     Now he looked really nervous.  "Sir, we can't allow these sort of incidents to happen in our restaurant, even if your wife was insulted.  I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."
     I patted his arm.  "Just as soon as we're done eating, compadre," I said.
     "No sir, now.  You will of course not see a bill."
     "In the middle of our meals?" asked Bekka.
     I gestured at Bekka and Jane and said, "Look, they didn't start any ruckus.  Let them finish their meals, I'll walk down to the damn Taco Bell and finish eating.  You sure you want to play it that way?  After all, I could just hang around outside and wait for that dipshit so I can finish the job."
     Nervous man said, "We've already dissuaded the gentleman from calling the police."  He sighed.  "All right, they can finish their meals so long as you leave and do not hang around out front.  Is that fair?"
     "Well, I'm not happy, but that will do.  Jane, Bekka, meet me in the bar of Nuevo's in about forty-five minutes.  I'll hit up Taco Bell for some food and walk around some."  I elbowed Nervous man and pointed.  "Get rid of laughing boy over there or I'll follow through on my offer to him."
     "Which was?"
     "To rip his head off and shit down his neck.  Get him back in the bar where I can't see him, or I won't be held accountable for my own actions."
     Nervous man went and ushered away the yuppie, then came and got me.  "I hope you understand our position here," he said.
     "Not really," I replied.  "A man can walk around and insult other men's wives without fear of reprisal?  What's the world coming to?  Believe me, I could have done a lot of damage to him if I'd wanted.  I cooled him down, that's all."
     "I understand your feelings, sir.  However, we cannot allow physical confrontation to happen anywhere in the restaurant, particularly in the bar, no matter the circumstances."
     I asked, "Hey, do you guys still do a Sunday brunch?  I liked that.  Me and the girls will come early, so we can avoid any drunks."
     He gulped.  "Yes, we still serve brunch on Sundays.  However, if there is another incident like this I would have to permanently bar you from our establishment."
     "Don't worry about it," I shrugged.  "So long as there aren't any drunk fools mistaking my wife for a hooker, we won't have any problems.  Now I'm gonna go get a couple Enchiritos.  Good night."
     I went and got a bit of food from Taco Bell --- I'd already eaten half a meal --- and sat on a wall a half block away from Cantina Acapulco eating.  I was shielded by some shrubs, but couldn't be seen at that distance.  I had no intention of stalking the yuppie bastard, and I wouldn't follow him, but if he came my direction I wouldn't mind taking advantage of the situation.  I half-watched, not caring too much.
     About a half hour later I was relaxing with a smoke when I heard a shriek.  I glanced towards the entry of the cantina, then heard a girl's Southern-inflected voice yell, "Fuck you, yuppie man!"  The yuppie came charging out onto the sidewalk, followed by Bekka and Jane.  The yuppie was holding a hand to one side of his face.  I decided it was time to get alert.
     The yuppie came my direction, down my side of the street.  He had no clue I was there, so I stuck a leg out and tripped him.  He hit the sidewalk at speed, still holding his face.  When he looked up at me I realized he had blood running down his face, from under where he had his hand.  He saw me standing there and barked in terror, then scrambled to his feet and continued tearing down the block.  He was halfheartedly pursued by Bekka and Jane.  I flagged them down.  Bekka said, "We should probably head for the car."
     "What happened?" I asked.
     Bekka said, "We were up front paying for our meals and asking about getting a catering menu when Romeo approached us again.  This time he decided that Jane was the one he wanted.  When I went to put my change in my purse, I pulled out my butterfly knife and spun it open, and told him to go back in the bar.  He followed us out onto the walkway, still talking shit, so I swung on him with the knife."
     "Yeah, I saw his face was bleeding," I said.
     "Actually, that was Jane," said Bekka.  "I swung at his belly.  At the same time, Jane launched herself at his face with her claws out, and raked down the side of one cheek.  He screamed and started trotting out.  Jane cussed at him and we decided to pursue.  At this point it's probably a good idea to get the fuck out of this neighborhood and onto the freeway back home, before he finds a pay phone and rings Johnny Law."
     "Point well taken," I said.  "Let's double-time it back to the car."
     We hustled back to the public lot where the Fleetwood sat.  When we got there I let us all in, quickly fired up, and rolled us towards Moore St. and the freeway on-ramp.  We were lucky: the Fleetwood, even with its black paint and chrome, would be about the last vehicle anyone would look for two punks and a porn star in.  I asked if the girls had eaten any dessert.
     "We didn't want to leave you alone for any longer than possible," said Jane.  "We finished our meals, had one last belt each, and got out."
     "Sundaes sound good?" I suggested.  "We can go to Farrel's in Mission Valley."  This sounded like a brilliant idea to the both of them.
     Farrel's is supposed to be a slice of turn-of-the-century Americana.  They have a burger-heavy lunch and dinner menu, but are famous for their sundaes and candy counter.  Despite being something of an ice cream addict, I didn't eat there too often, as I disagreed with their policy of making their servers pool tips.  I felt this only guaranteed mediocre service all the way around: why bust your ass for the customers if it wouldn't pay off?
     We stared at our menus, considered our options, and ordered what we wanted.  Our server, a girl of about nineteen, had a modified Becky Page haircut: she's clipped the sides fairly close, then buzzed a couple sweeping lines down to her scalp.  She kept staring at Bekka wide-eyed, but said nothing.
     "Think she's gonna ask who you are?" I asked Bekka.
     Bekka said, "The poor thing looks like she's gonna burst with curiosity.  I have no doubt she'll ask."
     Sure enough, when our server came back with our sundaes, she said, "Um, I hate to be a bother, and I'm not trying to be rude, but....  Is your name Becky Page?"
     Bekka replied, "That's my stage name, yes.  I am Becky Page.  Pleased to meet you....  Gwen," she said, squinting at the girl's name tag.
     "Oh my god, oh my god," said Gwen.  "You have no idea how important you've been in my life.  It's because of you I was able to admit my own bisexuality to myself and people around me.  You are just so cool I can't even describe it.  Now I'm polyamorous, I've got a boyfriend and a girlfriend.  I'd have never worked up the nerve to do that if it weren't for you.  Oh my god, I can't believe I'm even talking to you right now, this is so cool."
     "Let me ask you a question I like to ask my female fans.  How did you become familiar with me?   What was your source of media, as it were?"
     "I'm a student at SDSU, and this last semester I was taking a Woman's Studies course.  One of the topics early on was sexual empowerment, and they used you as an example.  We watched 'Bewitched,' 'Bad Babysitter,' and 'Lust Instructor.'  Watching you was the first time I ever consciously admitted to myself that yeah, I am attracted to women.  I saw 'Rocker Girls' and 'Dangerous Desires' as they came out, on my own.  Now I've got your posters up in my dorm room, much to my prig of a roommate's disgust.  Do you know there's a computer BBS dedicated to you locally?"
     "Not a surprise," I said.  "Tell me, is there one specifically for the movie 'Bewitched'?"
     "I haven't looked, but probably," Gwen said.  "Why?"
     "I'm the guy that wrote it, and I know its fans like to debate the minutiae of the damn thing.  Are you a fan?"
     I said, "Okay, a couple of things.  First of all, yes, Ursula was insane.  Second, the ending is ambiguous on purpose.  And third --- and you can't share this --- yes, there will be a sequel, probably in about six months.  This one will have a lot of legitimate magic in it.  Ursula will have a male counterpart to play off against.  We've still got another feature to knock out first though."
     "A sequel to 'Bewitched'?" Gwen exclaimed.  "Too cool.  You sure I can't share the news about the sequel?  That would make so many people happy."
     "I'm afraid it would make a few too many people a little too happy.  We want to be able to work in peace."
     "Okay," Gwen pouted.  "Hey, what are you guys doing down here?  I thought you were in LA."
     "No, we're in Encinitas," I said.  "The studio is in La Costa.  Near as I know, we're the only legitimate studio operating in the San Diego area.  No surprise, given the city's blue laws.  We're on county land, so we get left alone."
     Bekka said, "I must ask, what about those movies screamed 'empowerment' to your instructor?  I don't understand that."
     Gwen said, "It wasn't the overall movies, it was you in particular.  Your actions in all your movies give an impression of, like, showing that women can make sex-positive decisions and still be in control.  We don't have to wait for men to manipulate us into sexual activity.  And we can make those decisions without being slutty, you know?  That's the thing, you never come across as a slut in your movies."
     "So you sit around all day watching porn, then debate what is and isn't slutty behavior?" said Jane.  "Shit, now I really can't wait to get into college."
     "I'm glad you're happy with what I do," said Bekka.  "It's nice to know I'm making people happy besides men sitting alone in their living rooms with their pants around their knees, know what I mean?"
     "Actually, that's something a few girls wondered about," said Gwen.  "They felt your movies are all too heteronormative.  They want to know why you've never made an all-lesbian feature."
     Bekka laughed at this.  "You can tell them if they feel like producing one for me to appear in, fine with me.  I'm not under contract to Inana Productions, I'm just very loyal, and Inana produces features and loops for a straight audience.  If these girls, deep down, just want to see Becky Page getting busy with another girl and that's it, let them know Inana is releasing a compilation video of me in a bunch of girl/girl scenes.  Like, six twenty minute segments, a few from movies, a few from loops from when I was younger.  That's the best concession I can offer my lesbian fans at the moment: two hours of Becky Page naked, no plot.  Like I said, there's nothing to prevent me from appearing in a all-lesbian video, so long as it didn't interfere with me working at Inana."
     "Why are you so loyal to Inana?" asked Gwen.
     Smiling, Bekka said, "Because they have made me rich, they have treated me extremely well, and because my husband, this man here, runs the place.  I've been with them for eight years, and except for a few loops I appeared in up in LA, they're the only studio I've ever worked with.  Everyone at Inana is treated with respect, and that's hard to find consistently in this industry.  For such a small studio, Inana spends a lot of time kicking ass, you know?  'Bewitched' is the most popular adult feature ever, and 'Dangerous Desires' is looking to come in at number two.  We're doing something right around there."
     "Wow.  You know, you should really come and give a lecture at my Women's Studies class.  That would be too awesome."
     "Except that these are just roles I'm playing.  No, you want the man who wrote those roles, that created that strength to appear on the screen.  I'm glad you like the quality of my performances, and I will freely admit to refusing to play spineless women or airheads, but I'm still just an actress who fucks on camera.  Talk to him, he created the roles and wrote the dialogue."
     I said, "Hey, don't look at me.  My only goal ever has been to write smut that's actually intelligent.  I've never strove for anything else, I have no great motives.  Besides, the first person to bring up Catharine MacKinnon around me would send me diving through the nearest window.  I consider myself to be accepting and open-minded, but I won't claim to be the world's most progressive guy, either.  You know how a radical feminist can impress me?  She can write her name in the sand, if you get what I'm saying.  Ultimately, all that anger is only so much pissing in the wind, forgetting we're all human beings."
     Gwen said, "You'd like my instructor.  She's a post-feminist.  Would we be watching porn, and straight porn at that, if she was stuck in that '70s man-hating mindset?"
     "Well...." I said.  "Look, there's plenty of porn out there that objectifies.  The main reason none of my movies are like that is because it's really boring to write.  Fleshing out solid characters is a lot more fun.  But I could see a radical feminist using some porn as an example of how men are trained to have their control issues or whatever.  I just don't think they can use mine.  I play to heterosexual male fantasies without insulting the other half of the species.  I'm no crusader, I just hate being bored when I write, and creating characters that are just objects is boring."
     "Oh, you should definitely come and do a keynote," said Gwen.  "We could watch your last four or so movies all the way through on Monday through Thursday, then you could come and give a talk on Friday.  The both of you, that would be awesome."
     "How about a Q & A?" suggested Bekka.  The class could lob questions, and we could bat them around.  That way nobody has preconceived notions over what to expect to come out of our mouths."
     "That could work.  How would I get a hold of you, though?"
     Bekka reached in her purse and produced an Inana business card.  "Call that number during normal business hours. Tuesday through Friday.  If Lenny here doesn't answer, you can always leave a message."
     Gwen said, "Cool, um....  I have a couple of favors to ask of you.  One is easy, the other is hard.  Should I start with the easy one first?"
     "Go right ahead," said Bekka.
     "I'd like your autograph."
     "No problem."  Bekka grabbed a paper place mat and wrote across it, "Hey Gwen, you're a cutie, thanks for being a fan!  XXX  Kisses, Becky Page"
     "What was the other favor?" asked Bekka.
     Gwen looked a bit red.  "Um....  I would really like to kiss you.  And I mean really kiss you, too."
     "You mean kiss me deep?  Go at it like lovers do?"
     Bekka looked at me.  "Your call, babe," she said.
     I sighed and said, "It's amazing how much time my wife spends with other women's tongues in her mouth.  Go for it.  At least this one isn't plotting my downfall, like Dolly was."
     Gwen bent down and kissed Bekka, tentatively at first, then with more aggression.  The two wrapped their arms around each others' necks, as my wife spent about thirty seconds making out with our waitress.  Jane watched this with an expression of unbridled joy.
     After they broke off, Bekka said, "Honey, what about work?  You've been here at our table for quite a while now."
     Getting red again, Gwen said, "I'm off the clock.  I was hoping I could talk to you a little bit, so I took my lunch break.  I hope you don't mind I distracted you all through your dessert."
     Bekka said, "Always glad to talk to an intelligent fan.  Much better than getting squealed at by a teenage girl, or being propositioned by a man."
     "I'd better get this stuff in my locker before it gets sticky," said Gwen, holding up the autograph and the business card.  "Then I'll punch back in and bring you your check, okay?  And Bekka?  You kiss really nice."
     "I think so too," I said.
     "Me too," Jane added.
     Gwen stopped short and looked at Jane.  "So do you two, you know...."
     "Sometimes," Jane said.  "When we're both in the mood for it."
     "And sometimes it's the three of us," said Bekka.  "Polyamory is nothing new.  We didn't seek it out, It just happened to work that way."
     "Speak for yourself," giggled Jane.  "I wanted you both, but bad.  Since you haven't smothered me in my sleep yet must mean I'm doing something right."
     "Quiet, fuck toy," I said.
     "Yes, master."
     Gwen said, "Wow.  You people are libertines, totally awesome."
     "No, just horny," Bekka replied.

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