Succubus (Part 17)

     "I hope I'm not just being fuckin' stupid, but what the fuck is a succubus, anyway?" asked Terry.
     I answered, "A succubus is a female demon who seduces men.  Traditionally, those who have sex with succubi suffer from poor health or even death.  One thing attributed to the succubus is that since demons cannot reproduce, succubi take sperm from men and implant it in human women without their knowledge, meaning the women give birth to devil children.  Sounds like bullshit to me, since the sperm is coming from a normal human male and going into a normal human female.

     "In our movie, Bekka is a live, human succubus.  Sex with her causes men to lose their minds, because it's such an intense experience.  Bekka's character is resigned to her fate.  When she meets and seduces Roach, and the next morning he's okay, she is overjoyed.  In a scene we haven't shot yet, Bekka is lying there in her lair with tears or relief running down her face: she's not cursed.  Of course, the man she wants to be with forever is busy doing his damnedest to escape.  In myth, sex with a succubus was supposed to be the most incredible experience a man could have.  So it is with Bekka's character.  And that's what a succubus is."
     I was explaining this to Terry across the table at Tontino's Restaurant, two days after we had packed up and left Imperial County.  Car carriers were hauling our vehicles to Mitch's place in Santee.  We were leaving behind a string of satisfied merchants.  And except for Bekka and Roach's two fuck scenes in Bekka's lair, everything was in the can.
     The shoot at Slab City went well.  The residents did not have camera fixation, and milled about convincingly.  I handed out the gas cards and let everyone know that we were giving away all the stuff sitting on the tarps, we had no use for it.  In fact, they could take the tarps too.  One of the locals was a stereotype insane street preacher.  I laid a hundred bucks on him, a donation to his "church", in agreement that he would bark and howl out his rambling, nonsensical sermons while we filmed.  He may have been crazy, but he wasn't stupid.  The old bastard winked and said to Small Steve, "Just tell me when to go."  His looney noise made the perfect background soundtrack to our footage at Slab City.
     With only a couple hiccups, shooting our outdoor fuck scenes went well too.  Problem one: while shooting a scene with Jackie and Andy, them going at it doggy style, Jackie looked down and realized there was a scorpion the size of her fist crawling directly below her.  She screamed, shot up, and went sprinting towards the RVs.  Andy was momentarily puzzled....  Then he saw the scorpion, screamed, and ran for the RVs.  He lost his erection so fast you could hear it.  I finally ascertained the cause of the panic.  I unsheathed my Leatherman, folded it out into pliers, grabbed the little bastard by the tail, and flung it fifty feet into the sand.
     After ten minutes, cigarettes, and some comforting talk about scorpions only being malicious with things small enough to eat, Jackie agreed to return to her mark.  Andy took more convincing.  "What if it comes back?" he chattered.
     I said, "I don't think there is such a thing as a homing scorpion.  Don't worry about him."
     He took his mark, Dawn took her position in front of him and went to work.  Nothing.  For ten minutes she sucked and licked and stroked, Andy remained limp as canned spaghetti.  The boy was freaked.  Small Steve and I consulted briefly, and agreed to swap around scenes, Donna and Chip going into action today, instead of in the morning.  Jackie and Andy would just start over.  I noticed after that little event, all the performers were very diligent about keeping their boots on for as long as they could.
     Our other hiccup was the arrival of a Bureau of Land Management officer the morning of our next to last day.  We were shooting on an unmarked track off of Black Mountain Rd. that I'd discovered on our first day out.  I suspected it was rarely used, it seemed to empty into a wash and not come out.  To test this theory, I placed an empty Mountain Dew can in the road, pressing it into the sand so it wouldn't blow over.  Anyone driving down this track would crush the can.  Coming back to check, the can remained whole:  We could just stop on the road and work from there.
     Vehicles were lined up, cameras were being rigged, and Pill and Stallion were having their makeup applied.  (The guys all got a bit of stage makeup to make them look more sun-beaten.  Laugh lines were accentuated, a bit of extra red on the cheeks and forehead.)  Fortunately, everyone was still clothed.  The BLM officer pulled up and --- in an act of hilarious officiousness --- turned on his gumball lights.  Bekka, Terry, and I wandered over to see what was up.  The BLM dude was walking towards us, I said hello and good morning to him.
     "Are these your vehicles?" he asked.
     I said, "Well, the RVs are rented, but all the others are, yes."  Small Steve, the second cameraman (Calm Steve was back in La Costa shooting a couple loops) and Mickey were slowly edging towards us, unsure if they would help or hinder by joining the conversation.
     "What are you people doing out here?"
     "Making a movie.  Low budget project called 'Succubus,' it'll be going direct to video."
     "Do you have your permits?" asked the officer.
     "Absolutely, officer," I replied.  "Would you like to see them?  Terry, go grab that accordion folder that's in the pantry cabinet of Dewey."  (We'd named the RVs Huey, Dewey, and Louie.)  Terry sprinted off towards the correct RV.
     Mr. BLM continued forward.  He stopped at the haphazard line of raid vehicles.  "Are these vehicles registered?"
     "Of course.  The registrations and pink slips are in the glove boxes.  Would you like to see them?"
     "Where are the license plates?"
     "Sitting under the front seats.  We'll reattach them before we leave.  See, this is a post-apocalyptic adventure we're making, so having license plates with current registration stickers on the vehicles would have looked rather strange, so we take them off."
     Terry ran back up with the accordion folder.  I leafed through and presented the officer with our use permits issued by the county.
     The officer frowned.  "These are from Imperial County," he said.
     "Um, yes?" I responded.  "We're not in Riverside or Yuma, right?"
     "You're on BLM land.  The Bureau of Land Management is responsible for this whole area.  Didn't you file with the BLM?"
     "I didn't know we had to," I answered truthfully.  "I thought the county permits were all we needed."
     "No.  You need to file with the BLM to shoot here.  They didn't tell you that in El Centro?"
     "No sir, they did not."
     Mr. BLM looked disgusted and muttered, "Damn cowboys.  Look, what are you going to be accomplishing here?"
     I paused, so Bekka grabbed the slack.  "Just dialogue scenes, sir," she said.
     "Using any ammunition, live or blank?"
     "No sir."
     I said, "Don't worry, tire tracks is all we'll be leaving behind.  No guns, no fires, no trash, no wrecked vehicles.  You'll never know we're here."
     "How long will you be here?" asked the officer.
     "Just through early afternoon tomorrow, if that's all right with you, officer."
     Mr. BLM gave me a flat look.  He said, "You know, I should be writing you citations for $1000 a day for not having your permits.  Tell you what.  You show me the license plates and registrations for those vehicles, and you promise --- you promise --- that you'll leave things just as your found them, I'll let you slide by.  But next time, you file, okay?"
     "Not a problem, sir," I said.  "I honestly thought having the county permits would take care of the job.  Come on, Terry, let's go pull plates and registrations.  Put them on the hoods of the cars."
     The officer was staring at Bekka.  He said, "You look very familiar.  Where have I seen you?"
     Bekka gave him a very Becky-like smile and said, "Well, I've been in quite a few low budget productions.  I'm sure you've seen me when you're alone in front of your TV at night."
     The officer wrote down plate numbers and expiration dates.  Before taking off, he asked me for a business card, which I provided.  He said, "Tomorrow afternoon, right?  And no messes?"
     "No later than three, and absolutely not, sir.  You have a good morning."
     He spun his Ford Explorer around and headed back onto Black Mountain Rd., continuing southeast.  Terry drifted up next to me and said, "He could have fucked us up, huh?"
     "Just be happy we weren't in the middle of a scene.  Every single one of us would have been getting a summons to federal court.  The only reason he wouldn't arrest us is the inability to haul us all off."
     Small Steve said, "So, we're kosher?  We can work?"
     I said, "Yeah.  He's letting us off.  Terry, I'm gonna give you a real dull job.  I want you to back Louie up about a quarter mile, and keep one eye peeled on your mirrors.  If the BLM guy starts heading this direction again, like comes up behind you, lay on the horn.  That'll be the signal for whoever is performing to dive into an RV and pull their costumes on.  When you hear our horn, that means we're clear and you can come back.  But I don't want to find out what happens to the producer of a fuck film when he's caught working on federal land."
     "I doubt directors get off easy, either," said Small Steve.

     We got through the last day with no hassles.  We were back at the motel by 3:30.  Except for the barest necessities, bags were packed in anticipation of leaving in the morning.  I would be leaving last, or almost last, needing to write checks to two motels and a diner.  Terry would be later than me, as she was getting the windshield installed in the Nova that morning.
     Two more meals in El Centro, then home.  Bekka and I had dinner at the Mexican place, then breakfast at the diner.  I told the manager I would be in to settle with him after I was sure everyone had eaten.  The motels would be paid off first.  They'd taken Angel's American Express Silver card number as a guarantee, but the bill would actually be paid with Inana's money.  The money we had spent in Imperial County had gone primarily towards gasoline, food, and lodging, but in a place like Imperial County, every little bit helped.  They'd get a thanks in the credits, too.
     I believe everyone got home, opened a few windows, and collapsed for a long while, like until the next day.  I stopped at La Mesa RV Center to check that the three RVs had been returned in good order and to pay them off.  Then it was up the 5 into Encinitas and home.  Bekka had arrived an hour ahead of me and debriefed Jane on how things had gone in our absence.  She was a good girl: she had only eaten ten of the thirty hits of Ecstasy we'd left with her.  No evidence of parties.  She admitted to being tempted, but she said we put so much trust in her on a regular basis, she wanted to prove we were justified in showing that trust.  I walked in the living room, Jane gave me a hug and a kiss, and said, "Lenny, you look like hell."  I smiled and said I didn't doubt that I did.
     The dinner at Tontino's was a very relaxed event.  Angel, Vinny, and Reina were down for it.  Anticipating the amount of wine and spirits that would be flowing, Angel had booked three rooms at the Marriott.  I counted: Reina had a total of six glasses of wine over the course of the evening, and felt it, even on a stomach full of Tuscan food.  We talked a bit.  She told me (around glass five) that she still suspected that I was crazy, but it seemed to work for me.  She also said her friends had been bugging her constantly about what sort of a person Becky Page was really like.  "I told them not being in Hollywood seemed to make a difference, that Becky Page was one of the friendliest people I'd ever met.  Probably the sweetest porno queen ever put on earth."
     I corrected her.  "No, that award goes to Skye Tyler, Inana's resident farm girl.  Don't forget, Bekka is Sicilian, and has the temper to prove it.  It usually gets unleashed at me, but then again, I'm usually the one who deserves it the most."
     Terry amazed me.  She showed up in a slinky green dress and wearing makeup.  "Clean up nice, don't I?" she said.  We sneaked into the parking lot to take a few quick hits off the pipe in the Nova.  She confessed her crush on me while we were out there, and asked if there was any way she could share me with Bekka.
     "Not as much as you'd like, or to the degree you want," I told her.  "I think you're wonderful, but I am devoted to Bekka.  I don't see that changing."
     "Well....  Rat fuck," was her response.  "Do you think she'd mind if I still borrowed you every now and then?  So I could have a little of you?"
     "I doubt she'd have a problem with that.  She's generous with her friends."
     I presented Angel with the Mexican bootleg of "Dangerous Desires."  He asked me what I thought we should do about it.
     I considered briefly and said, "Hire him."
     "What?" squawked Angel.
     "Yeah.  With a name like Brian Salinas, I'll bet anything he's got dual citizenship, an American dad and a Mexican mom.  Why shouldn't we have foreign language versions of our features?  We lean on this clown, give him three choices: get sued, get hospitalized, or get busy working for us.  We'd make it worth his while.  Have him arrange dubbed versions of our features, in Spanish, French, and German.  He arranges the translations, and hires the voice actors.  Good ones.  We provide a decent recording studio and the master video for the job.  Bang, our European and South American sales go way up.  No sweat."
     Angel stared at me.  "How did you learn to think like that?" he asked.
     I grinned.  "Well, you know, I hang around these wops who have taught me to find a way to profit in any situation.  They're smart guys, I listen to 'em.  That, and following my own instincts.  Between the two I've become rather successful, dare I say rich."
     "You gotta watch them wops.  Some of them might be connected to organized crime."
     "Ah, that's just a stereotype.  That's all bullshit."

     Two weeks later Adult Video News arrived in my mailbox, and the major porn magazines hit the newsstands.
     We rang the bell again.
      Adult Video News:  (Five stars)  "Inana will not let up.  'Bewitched II: Stroke of Luck' marks the eighth full feature released by the studio under Lenny Schneider and Steve Stillman, and they just keep getting better.  As a sequel, many might have expected them to take the easy way out, but no: if anything, 'Stroke of Luck' is even better than the original.
     "Once again, superstar Becky Page plays Ursula the witch.  This time, she is paired up with Eddie Steinberg as a burned-out nightclub magician named Chrysler.  Ursula gets back up to her old tricks, with Chrysler first acting as her foil, then as her opposition.  Meanwhile, both are being pursued by the members of Ursula's old coven.  The plot twists and turns, with plenty of Stillman's fantastic and ardent sex scenes throughout.
     "To tell more, we would be giving away bits of the plot, and we don't want to do that.  You must see this one for yourself.  Also of note are newcomers Gayla Goode, Susan Black, and Rita Visón, three sexy and talented recent arrivals at Inana Productions....  But this being Inana, 'sexy' and 'talented' are a given for any of their performers.  All three have turns in front of the cameras that will leave you breathless.
     "This is another long feature from Inana, weighing in at 113 minutes.  You will enjoy it all.  'Stroke of Luck' will be flying off shelves, so pre-order your copy as soon as you can.  Gripping, dramatic, and highly erotic, this is another solid gold winner."
     Hustler:  (Fully Erect)  "People may wonder why us fuck film reviewers keep kissing the ass of Inana Productions.  If you're wondering why, that means you haven't seen any of their features, and that's your loss.
     "'Bewitched II: Stroke of Luck' is another solid gold bombshell from Inana.  With sex goddess Becky Page in the lead (and showing more flesh this time around) this movie thrills on multiple levels.  Like all of Inana's releases, it will get you rock hard, thanks to the copius sucking and fucking, all captured expertly by director Steve Stillman.  And this is intelligent filmmaking, too.  The story and pacing guarantee you'll never be bored, no matter what is happening on the screen.  Even the music works, evincing passion when it needs to, or suspense, or action.
     "To encapsulate, Ursula the witch (Page) is teamed up with stud Eddie Steinberg, playing a magician who hates his job.  Ursula gets up to her old tricks, at first assisted by Steinberg, then the two of them battling each other.  Ursula's old coven, meanwhile, are hunting them both down.  Ursula's powers seem to have grown, given the havoc she is now capable or wreaking: there is one scene showing no less than fifteen couples going at it in the middle of a suburban street.  (Just as a piece of movie making, this scene is breathtaking, and possibly one of the sexiest things we've seen in a decade.)
     "Put your dick away, zip your fly, and get to your nearest porn shop to pre-order your copy of 'Bewitched II.'  You don't want to rent this, you want to own it.  It really is that good."
     Club:  (Five stars)  "They're at it again.  Inana Productions has released another film so fun to watch you'll almost forget to cum.  Almost.
     "In 'Bewitched II: Stroke of Luck' porn goddess Becky Page reprises her role as Ursula the witch, out to turn the world into one big fuck-fest.  This time she plays opposite Edward Steinberg as an asshole stage magician, acting as her love/hate interest.  (Steinberg is one talented bastard.  According to a note in the credits, he performs all his magic live, no camera tricks.)  Ursula's old coven is out to get the both of them.  Once again, very sexy hi-jinks ensue.
     Of special note is a borderline orgy scene containing (at our count) fifteen couples, shot in the middle of a suburban street.  The makers of 'Caligula' only wished they'd captured this level of decadence.  There is plenty of other hot action, featuring new arrivals Rita Visón, Gayla Goode, and Susan Black, plus our other favorite girls from Inana, including blonde bombshell Skye Tyler ('Temporary Pleasures').  We continue to be amazed at the genuine acting talent the Inana girls show, they live their roles like no other porn stars ever have.
     "This one is fun and hot, hot hot.  The line for rentals will always be a mile long, so bite the bullet and buy a copy.  This is another classic, you won't be disappointed."
     Gallery:  (Five stars)  "Okay, there's this small porn studio down in San Diego called Inana Productions.  And they keep on releasing the most incredible fuck films anyone could ever hope to see.  They have a stable of the sexiest, most talented studs and sluts you can imagine.  And they've given the world another one.
     "The offering this time is 'Bewitched II: Stroke of Luck,' the sequel to the groundbreaking 'Bewitched.'  Becky Page, the true queen of porn, returns to her role as Ursula the witch.  Opposite her is Edward Steinberg, playing a self-loathing nightclub magician.  Ursula is still trying to bring love into the world, but only ends up with lots of hot fucking.  Steinberg first abets, then opposes the witch.  And both are being chased by Ursula's coven, who get up to plenty of sexy shenanigans on their own.
     "Three relative newcomers --- they've done some loops for Inana, but that's it --- keep things lively.  Susan Black, Rita Visón, and Gayla Goode help to burn up the screen here, we can't wait to see more of them.  Skye Tyler fans will also rejoice, as she has two sexy turns in front of the cameras.  And an amazing mid-street orgy sequence must be seen to be believed.
     "The porn power duo of Steve Stillman (director) and Lenny Schneider (producer) have made another feature which will both captivate and get you horny.  These two, with their crew of skilled performers, are responsible for bringing hardcore out of the closet and into the forefront of popular entertainment.  Inana gave every other studio something to reach for, and they keep knocking the bar higher.  And have we mentioned that Schneider is only twenty-three years old, and Stillman is twenty-eight?  If they're accomplishing this at their ages, we're almost afraid to see what they'll do when they're in their thirties.
     "This is a classic, a must-see.  Like 'Temporary Pleasures,' the wait to rent will always be a month long, so just buy the damn thing.  You'll want to watch it over and over, so you won't regret it."
     Fox:  (Five stars)  "Becky Page fans, jump for joy: Ursula the witch is back.  Inana Productions has released the sequel to 'Bewitched,' entitled 'Bewitched II: Stroke of Luck.'  And it is arguably even better than the first one.
     "Page's Ursula befriends and battles a stage magician named Chrysler, played by Edward Steinberg ('Dangerous Desires,' 'Temporary Pleasures').  Her old coven is out to stop the both of them, as Ursula continues her quest to turn everyday life into an orgy.  She has some success, as proven by an outdoor suburban group sex scene that is amazing to witness.  The coven witches see plenty of action, too, being led by America's tastiest blonde, Skye Tyler.  We also have three debutantes, in the forms of Susan Black, Rita Visón, and Gayla Goode.  All three are smoking....  But we expect nothing less from Inana.
     "The creative team of Lenny Schneider and Steve Stillman are once again at the top of their game, putting out hardcore smut that is also fun to watch as a movie, a combination almost unheard of.  'Cafe Flesh' is the only thing that ever comes close, and not even that was capable of captivating viewers like the films Inana releases.
     "Even if you've been living under a rock and never saw the original 'Bewitched,' get to your local porn shop and reserve your copy of 'Stroke of Luck.'  You'll be thrilled in so many ways it isn't funny."

     Bekka tossed the last magazine on the coffee table.  Jane had read all the reviews and was now poring over the copy of Hustler.  I was thumbing through AVN, looking to see if anyone at all had received five stars that month.  So far, no.  A few four and a half ratings, and a decent smattering of fours, but no other five star ratings.  Jesus.  Once again, the arbiter of the industry was declaring I'd done something perfect.
     "You did it again, babe," said Bekka.  "You made yet another brilliant fuck flick."
     I said, "No, you did.  I just wrote shit down and provided some guidance, you breathed life into the central character, made Ursula come alive."
     "But you created Ursula, and brought her to life with your guidance.  I just followed a script and followed instructions.  It was you that---"
     "Guys, don't start this shit," Jane said in a voice filled with warning.  "I don't want to hear it.  You're both fucking geniuses, leave it at that."
     "So how high do you think this one will go?" I asked.  "There are currently about twenty-three million copies of 'Bewitched' in the world.  'Dangerous Desires' is hovering around eighteen million.  'Rocker Girls' is right about sixteen million.  And 'Temporary Pleasures' is at the rear with nine million, but it's only been out four months, so it ain't doing too bad.  Is there a limit to how well porn can sell?  Not everyone with a VCR will watch porn, and there are a finite number of VCRs in the world, so there has to be a limit.  But it seems to be damn high.  It's a little overwhelming to think about."
     Bekka chuckled and sipped her Anchor Steam.  She said, "I fucked with my own head, thinking about the number of self-induced orgasms I was personally responsible for.  I've made more men come than every hooker in France put together.  Then I take into account just how devoted my fans of both genders are, it's really kind of scary.  I'm glad I have Becky living in my head, she can handle this shit better."
     Jane said, "It would be hard to get the mainstream media to admit it, but you are one of the most loved, most popular women in the world.  You're, like, Mother Teresa and Jackie Onassis rolled into one.  And Nicky was right about one thing.  With your fans, it's not just adoration, it adulation.  They more or less worship you.  Hell, invent your own religion, or put a twist on an old one.  That'd be a good hobby."
     "That's a little too cynical, pet.  If I was going to exploit my fame that way, I'd just run for office.  Run for mayor or something."
     "Nah, that wouldn't work," I pointed out.  "San Diego is still too socially conservative to elect a porn star to office.  To pull that off, we'd need to move to the Bay Area.  Berkeley would elect you mayor in a heartbeat, or San Francisco, or Oakland.  Besides, why think locally?  Why not go for a state office?  Run for assembly?"
     "Same problem with running for mayor, it's a local election," said Jane.  "Shit, think big.  Why not run for attorney general?  That way you could campaign the whole state, lock down the horn-dog vote from Eureka to Calexico."
     "And you've got a built-in campaign slogan.  You just say that as a porn star, you'd make the best attorney general anyone has ever come across."
     Jane snorted with laughter at this idea, then said, "Yeah, or point out that politicians all suck, so why not elect one who at least does it well, and has proof?"
     Bekka said, "Shit.  Mayor of Encinitas is a part time job.  I'll run for mayor of this burg.  I'm a local girl, I know this town.  And I'd run a campaign so psycho that even if I lost, the other candidates would never recover from the trauma."
     "Would you run as Bekka Schneider or Becky Page?" I asked.
     "Oh, definitely Becky Page.  Becky would spend a lot of time at the forefront in my head, she's cut out for a Hunter Thompson-style mayoral campaign.  Becky is much bigger on self-promotion than me."
     "So what would be some of your agenda items?" asked Jane.
     "Hmm....  All beaches would be clothing optional, that's one.  Police badges would have not just the name, but the phone number of the officer.  Add to the public coffers by legalizing and taxing marijuana sales.  Vehicles with out-of-state plates parked in the beach lots for longer than ninety minutes would be subject to towing."
     I said, "Remember those assholes last year who liked to get drunk and then beat up the homeless?  Anyone caught doing that would be fed fifteen hits of LSD, stripped naked, then turned loose at the end of the jetty during a rainstorm."
     Jane said, "Oh!  To cut down on noise pollution, police sirens are replaced with cheery calliope music."
     Bekka said, "Drunk drivers receive no jail time or points on their record, but must paint their cars Day Glo orange at their own expense."
     "Put in a skate park.  Seriously.  With bleachers, so the skater boys are easily observed...."
     "A Scandinavian style of sex education, where it starts with the basic sperm-and-ovum stuff in the third grade.  That way, by the time the kids hit puberty, they're so sick of the subject they wouldn't dream of having unprotected sex."
     "De-fund high school football, and put the money into art and drama programs.  Let the jocks hold a bake sale for once."
     "Oh, I'll take a tip from Jello Biafra.  Put up a statue of Tom Metzger in the park, and the city can sell eggs to throw at it."
     "Who's Tom Metzger?" asked Jane.
     "A Klansman from Vista who ran for Congress, and actually got the Democratic nomination.  He got stomped in the main election, but still."
     Bekka had a satisfied look on her face.  She said, "There, now I have a hobby until November of 1992.  I'm set."
     "What if you win?" I asked.
     "Oh please," Bekka scoffed.  "A drug-addicted porn slut who recommends humiliating the police, legalizing drugs, and harassing the tourists?  I won't get vote one."
     "That's what Jello Biafra thought, and he placed fourth in the run for mayor of San Francisco.  Never discount the inner subversive in us all."
     "On election night I'm wearing a shirt that says, 'If I reach 1,000 votes I'll get a mohawk.'"
     "Kinky," said Jane.  "I'll bring clippers."
     I stood up.  "Ms. Osborne, Ms. Page, it's time to go to dinner.  I vote for Love's in Mission Valley."
     The girls were amenable to beef ribs the size of one's forearm, so off we went.  On the way there, Bekka broached the subject of "Stroke of Luck" again.
     "Do you really think it's gonna bust loose, be another mega-hit?  You don't think the public is tired of me yet?"
     I said, "The public is enamored of you.  Look how frightening the numbers are.  It took 'Bewitched eleven weeks to move one million.  'Temporary Pleasures' moved two million copies in four weeks.  Think of all the hype that 'Stroke of Luck' has had.  People are expecting this movie, waiting with bated breath.  And with our great reviews, well, it's gonna move.  You're only going to get more famous, and we're both only going to get more rich.  To hell with being mayor of Encinitas, just buy the damn town and rule it like a shah."
     "I'm buying a cabin in the Sierras," pouted Bekka.  "Someplace where the locals don't know who I am, right on a lake.  I'll fish for trout and walk in the woods and only have books for entertainment.  No phone, either.  And to keep my husband to myself, no damn computer.  I will be anonymous, and peaceful."
     We went in and were seated.  The waitress told us what an honor this was for her, serving Becky Page.  Ms. Page, I don't mean to be rude, but could I ask for your autograph?  You've had such an impact on my life, it would mean so much to me.
     Bekka's eyes closed, her face shifted, and Bekka became Becky.   She said, "No problem sweetie.  Bring me something to write on.  What's your name?"
     The waitress disappeared.  I looked over and the couple to one side of us were looking at Bekka/Becky with the shock of recognition.  They stared and murmured, and the husband stood and approached, saying, "Um, Ms. Page...?"
     And Bekka/Becky smiled up at him and said, "Hi!  What's on your mind, cutie?"
     And away we went.