Friday, June 24, 2016

Succubus (Part 9)

     Two weeks later and I'm tooling along through desert in my Fleetwood with Jeff Greenley of the Imperial County department of Film and Entertainment riding shotgun.  He is giving me a tour of county roads that have the wasteland vibe I want.  I am his only client, so I have his undivided attention.  He was initially surprised by me, but has adapted.  Greenley knew Inana Productions made adult video, and was familiar with (and a fan of) Becky Page's movies.  He was expecting a vaguely sleazy Hollywood type to meet him, not a twenty-three year old punk in a brand new Cadillac.  I immediately won him over by presenting him with a signed Becky Page poster to put up at home.  He assures me that everyone in county government will be cooperative with us while we are working, especially the sheriff's department.

     I stop the car without moving to the shoulder.  There's no point, nothing has moved in either direction for the last five minutes.  Grabbing my AAA map and a highlighter, I mark the road we are on as a winner.  Then I turn around and head back the way we came.  Greenley asks if I want to see another possible location, I refuse.  I've got enough places to shoot now, we've been out here for three hours, and I'm in the mood for some lunch, which I offer to Greenley.  He accepts and we head back into El Centro, pointing towards a diner he recommends.
     As we eat, Greenley tells me, "You know, if it had been any other, uh, adult company, we would have refused.  But Inana is too well-known, and has a good reputation.  While we may not endorse certain aspects of your endeavor in Imperial County, as long as you are discreet we'll be fine."
     "Thanks," I reply.  "Don't worry, we'll be respectful.  It's going to be a difficult shoot, by far the most ambitious thing we've ever taken on, but everyone at the studio is really involved.  Yes, Inana makes triple-X video, but we construct them as full features.  There is no reason why hardcore cannot be genuinely entertaining as a movie."
     "You look young.  How long have you been in this business?"
     I smiled.  "I am young for my position.  I'm twenty-three, and I've worked for Inana for three years, starting off as the still photographer.  I was promoted to Chief Operations Officer, and as C.O.O. I was basically running the place at the age of twenty-one.  I encouraged the owners to start making full features.  The fourth one we released was the now-famous 'Bewitched,' and all of our features since have been critical and commercial successes.  It's strange, Inana has broken the barrier between porn and mainstream entertainment.  People who had never bought pornography in their lives, would have been offended if you'd suggested they would be consumers of porn, are huge fans of ours.  Our features satisfy both the base urge of being witness to sexual activity and and the intellectual craving for decent entertainment."
     "You satisfy on different levels at once," said Greenley.
     "Exactly.  That was never really a goal, either.  I just wanted to make adult features that didn't suck, movies I would actually enjoy watching."
     "Well, you're a winner in my book.  You make really good movies.  And Becky Page, my God, she is one of the most beautiful, sexy, sensual women in the world.  You're really married to her?"
     "Yes I am," I answered.  "And I'll answer your next question right now: it's wonderful.  We are still as much in love now as we were when we first started.  I can't imagine her not being in my life.  Come out to one of our locations, you can meet her.  I'm assuming I'll see you around while we work?"
     Greenley said, "Absolutely.  I'll stick my head in off and on to make sure everything is working well, and if there's any way the county can be of help."
     I dropped off Greenley at his office and headed for Interstate 8, pointing west back towards San Diego and home.  I would stop in Santee to check on the progress of Mitch and Dutch.

     I purposely ignored the long row of cars parked along the inside of Mitch's fence.  I was sure he and Dutch would give me the tour to show me what they'd accomplished so far.  Anchoring the Fleetwood outside the shop, I got out and walked in.
     The both of them were leaned into the engine bay of the Nova.  One glance showed me the supercharger was being installed.  The hood had been removed and a hole cut in it.  Looking down on the nose, I saw the push bar was attached.  I lit a cigarette and patiently waited.
     Dutch straightened up and got behind the wheel of the Nova, firing up the engine.  Mitch called, "Okay, try it."  A moment later the motor gained an urgent sound, the exhaust note became sharper, and there was a whooshing noise.  After several seconds Mitch called, "That's good."  The engine returned to its normal sound.  Dutch got out, walked up to Mitch, and the two high fiived.
     "Hey Lenny," said Mitch.  "We just finished installing your blower.  Except for the interior, this one will be finished tomorrow."
     Dutch said, "I found your second hot rod.  It's a 1970 Mustang fastback that got in a smashup on the freeway.  Driveable but definitely out of sorts.  I pulled all the damaged sheet metal off and used a mallet to flatten it back out again, then put it all back together.  Before it looked like it had been in a wreck, now it just looks mean.  The hatch is being replaced with canvas.  I tracked down stock steel rims for it, they'll look more true to life than if we left the chrome that was there on."
     "How are the other cars coming?" I asked.
     Mitch said, "C'mon outside and take a look.  We got all but four right now."
     We went out to the row of cars.  Among others, I spotted a 1981 Toyota Corolla, a 1978 Celica, two Honda CVCCs, a 1986 Prelude, a CRX, a Nissan Maxima, and plenty of other running iron.  Three minivans sat at the end of the row.  And modifications had begun.
     I'll use the two CVCCs as an example.  One had been grey, one had been blue, now both were oxidized to drabness.  Both had three inch body lifts, and were sitting on worn off-road tires.  The front bumpers had been removed and replaced with lengths of heavy five inch steel pipe.  One had a spotlight mounted to the driver's door.  Exhaust pipes jutted through either the hoods or front fenders.  One had a hole cut in the roof centered over the passenger side.  I asked, and they explained, "For gunners.  The front passenger seats are being removed.  A gunner can just stand on the floor and stick out through the roof."  The front fenders had been removed from one.  The other had a scuffed San Diego Chargers helmet stuck up front, like an oversize hood ornament.  When started, both positively growled.  Mitch and Dutch assured me that both drove perfectly fine, and the speedometers were calibrated.  All that was left was the interiors, and much of that was up to the performers, depending on their character's personality.  I'd given the pirates distinct personas, and we were encouraging the girls to create little quirks for their characters.  Gayla had given her pirate (named "Blue") the most psychotic high-pitched giggle, which she would emote randomly.  She also compulsively stroked at a length of chrome chain that hung around her neck.  Tawny's pirate ("Wreck") had no concept of personal space, and would stand nose-to-nose with people, or directly beside them.  The other pirates were used to her, but watching her would make viewers uncomfortable.  Ellen's pirate was somewhat childish in her speech and manner, and would softly sing rambling nonsense songs to herself.  She had a Ken doll, which she would say obscene things to, like a failed attempt at talking dirty: "You're bad, you want to lick my ass, you want me to fuck you but you're too bad to fuck, you're an ugly boy...." and on and on.  Rita ("Lujuria," Spanish for lust) simplified her accent anxiety by translating all her character's lines into Spanish.  Others would speak to her, she would understand perfectly, and respond....  In Spanish, which only the pirate queen understood, and would be called upon to translate.  Donna ("Spine") had been reading the same paperback --- "Zen And The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig --- over and over for as long as she'd been a pirate.  Her explanation was she knew she'd find something she missed before if she read it over enough.  Each pirate would be assigned a vehicle and sent down to Santee to make it their character's own.

     Friday Small Steve and I had worked out our shoot schedule.  On Monday I sat down with the schedule and some paper and worked out who would be where when, so I would know how many motel rooms we would need on any given night and set up reservations.  We would be in Imperial County for twenty-four days, taking Sundays off.  We were getting the action over with first, the stunts and stunt driving taking up the first four days.  Then two days of driving footage.  We would shoot both scenes with the raid victims being robbed (and having the men taken) in one day.  Then all our dialogue scenes, including whatever we would shoot at Gilmore Camp.  The bartering bazaar, to be shot at Slab City, would be a day unto itself.  And our on-location fuck scenes would kick in.
     I'd forgotten about something important: I had no clue where I was going to shoot the final scene in the movie.  It was just a short fuck scene between Roach and Bekka, them laughing and having sex in a mountain meadow.  It was meant to establish the lone scavenger and the pirate queen had succeeded in escaping the wastelands and making it to the Summerlands.  Imperial county had no mountain meadows, using a spot in the Laguna Mountains meant dealing with the Feds, and I couldn't find anyone who owned property like that.
     Lunch, a couple days later.  Roach and Dawn were in my office with looks of anticipation on their faces.  I was loading a bowl and reflecting on how I was the Johnny Appleseed of meth, always spreading it around for free.  That made me thing of other people I'd kept high, which made me think of the folks I'd met on vacation, including the punk rock hillbilly Crystal and her brain-damaged sister....  Who lived in the mountains, knew the area and the people, and could point me towards the terrain I wanted.
     I set the pipe down and dug through my wallet.  Bingo, Crystal and Mojo's number.  I dialed and after six rings a woman's voice yelled, "What the fuck do you want now!?"
     I said, "Uh, Crystal?  This is Lenny, from San Diego...."
     Crystal calmly replied, "Oh, hey, whassup Lenny?"
     "Am I interrupting something?"
     "Oh, sorry, I thought you were my ex.  He's decided he's going to behave like a total dick and not come across with child support."
     I had not seen any sign of children in the three days I had been around her.  "I didn't know you had a kid," I said.
     "Yeah, I got a daughter, she's six," said Crystal.  "She's living with my mom and stepdad right now because of some bullshit with the courts.  I got busted holding shit, fuckin' judge said my kid was in unfit living conditions.  I got the house straightened up, went through drug diversion, but I gotta sit out my probation before I get my daughter back.  It's bullshit.  Meanwhile my ex says he won't give me any money since Shannon ain't with me.  Fuckin' asshole, the money is for the kid.  I told him to just mail it to my mom if he thought I was gonna take it.  He starts in on how he knew I'd spend it all on shit.  Asshole, what did I just say?  If my mom has the money, how can I spend it?  He's called, like, five times today bugging me about getting clean, fucking alcoholic hypocrite.  So I thought you were him again.  So what's up?"
     I shook my head to clear it and said, "Well, I'm trying to a mountain meadow I can tape two people having sex in on private land.  I'll pay the land owner for the use, and we'd only be one day.  Can you think of anyone?"
     "Yeah.  My mom and stepdad, they've got thirty-eight acres and they're right here in town.  You want a meadow?  They got a meadow.  You want a waterfall?  They got one of those, it's fuckin' gorgeous.  You want trees, they got plenty of goddamn trees.  So what's up?  You want to make one of your videos up here?"
     "Not exactly.  I just want to shoot one scene up there.  It's only going to be about four minutes long when it's finished.  We'd probably be on location for two hours.  Do you think they'd allow it?"
     "I doubt they'd freak out, unless you guys started a fire or something.  How many people would be here?"
     I said, "Um, Me, both performers, and our director, who will just run the camera himself.  No big crowd or anything, this isn't Hollywood.
     "What are you gonna pay 'em?" asked Crystal.
     "A grand," I replied.
     Crystal stifled a gasp.  "A grand?  Tell you what, let me call them right now and ask what they think.  But I'll bet they're totally cool.  Call me back in ten minutes, okay?"
     "No sweat.  Later."
     I hung up and had that stared-at feeling.  Looking up, I saw Dawn and Roach staring at me with need and anxiety.  The pipe was still sitting, untouched, in front of me.
     I picked it up and grinned, "Help you with something?"
     The response was, "Well....  You know....  Lenny, you said you'd.....  I mean...."
     I melted in the dope and handed the pipe over.  "Here, go for it, you two.  Roach, you may be taking a little vacation in the near future.  Several of us may be headed up to the Sierra Nevada mountains, where you will fuck my wife on camera, in a field.  Drive up the first day, do the shoot the second day, drive back the third day.  Real simple."
     After ten minutes had passed, I called Crystal back.  She answered on the first ring.
     She said, "Yeah, they're cool with it.  When will this be?"
     I answered, "Either in the next six days or not for seven weeks.  We're gearing up for shooting the new feature, and I forgot to budget time for shooting this scene."
     There was a pause, then Crystal asked, "Hey, can you get a hold of more of that shit that you had?"
     "Well, yeah...."
     "How much is an eight-ball?"
     I chuckled into the phone.  I said, "Tell you what, I'll bring you a quarter ounce as a finder's fee for coming up with my location.  Will that work?"
     "That would be fucking awesome," Crystal said.  "You think you'll be up here in just a few days?"
     "I honestly don't know yet.  I'll let you know my plans by tomorrow.  This is damage control,  what I'm doing right now.  We're probably going to be up sooner, because in seven weeks we're gonna be so exhausted it's not funny."
     After the call I collared Small Steve and explained the situation to him.  He whacked himself in the forehead and said, "How could I forget?  It's right in the script."
     I told him, "Hey, I wrote the damn thing.  It should be etched into my brain."
     We decided we'd be gone Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.  The four of us would take the Fleetwood, which would hold all four of us plus a camera and our gear.  I'd do all the driving, unless I started feeling loopy.  Then, Bekka would take the wheel.  This would be a purpose-driven trip, no partying or hanging around in any bars.
     I called ahead and reserved rooms at the Grass Valley Best Western.  Insisting on a six a.m. departure time from Inana meant that most everyone dozed until we hit the Grapevine.  We were in the lot of the motel at 4:30.  Everybody got in their rooms, then Bekka and I took a walk over to the Ralph's for a six-pack.  We had mediocre Mexican food for dinner, went to our rooms, and relaxed.  I called Crystal to let her know we were in Grass Valley and would see her around ten the next morning.
     "Why don't you come up here tonight?" she asked.
     I told her, "Because there is nothing we could get done, it'll be dark soon.  I'll be able to visit with you some tomorrow, but this is a business trip.  Me and my director are stressed about all the crap that we should be getting done while we're on this safari."
     "Well, fuck me.  When are you going to be here tomorrow?"
     "Around ten.  That'll give us time to meet your folks, scout out our location, and set up our one lonely camera."
     I could practically hear Crystal scowling over the phone.  She said, "Okay, tomorrow at ten.  Goodnight, bye," and the phone was whacked down.
     Crystal was upset....  With me?  Why?  What's going on?  Then the realization struck me: she was hoping, actually expecting, to get that quarter-ounce from me as soon as I hit the area.  She was jonesing again.  "Her" drugs were in a state of limbo until mid-morning, and that was misery for her.
     Ten the next morning saw me knocking on Crystal and Mojo's door.  I heard running footsteps, then Crystal flung the door open.  Her face was a mask of anxiety.  She said, "Hey Lenny.  Um, did you bring, um, what you said you would?"
     I held out the bag and she snatched it.  She began marching back into the house, muttering over her shoulder, "I've gotta hit this, come on in, just be a minute."
     Oh, great.  I said, "Just chop a line out of it, that'll be faster than how you do it."
     She was in the bathroom, lining up her accoutrements.  She growled, "I'll only be a fuckin' minute!  Snorting it would just piss me off."
     "Right," I said.  "I'll be out front as soon as you're ready.  And don't hit too big, we don't have time for you to drop and flop."
     "Be right out," Crystal muttered as she knocked dope into the water-filled spoon.  I left to let the others know there would be a brief delay, Crystal wasn't ready yet.
     Twelve minutes later she emerged, smiling brightly and full of energy.  She had changed clothes and was now in Chuck Taylors, a black microskirt, an Agnostic Front t-shirt, and seven spike bracelets.  She opened the rear door and sat down next to Bekka....  Then nearly threw herself out of the car again.  Crystal babbled, "Holy fuckin' shit, you're Becky Page, aren't you?"
     "In the flesh," replied Bekka.  This is Steve Stillman, our director, and this is Roach, the person I'll be having sex with today in a meadow.  You are....  Crystal, correct?"
     "That's me.  What are you doing here?  This is too wild."
     "As I alluded to a moment ago, I'm here on business.  We're getting some raw footage and going home first thing in the morning.  You seem surprised by my presence."
     Crystal said, "Well, shit, you'd think Lenny would have told me he was bringing Becky Page along!"
     "I did," I said.  "I'm sure I mentioned that I was bringing my wife."
     "Yeah, well, how am I supposed to know you're married to Becky Page?"
     "While I was on vacation I mentioned it to you several times.  In fact, I remember you displayed a great interest in our sexual proclivities.  You expressed amazement Bekka would have sex with me at all, given how utterly sick of penises she must be.  You hinted my wife only had sex with me out of a sense of duty."
     Bekka faced Crystal head-on and said, "I fuck at work.  At home, Lenny is the man I make love to.  You're aware there's a difference, right?"
     Now Crystal looked confused, while still in awe over the presence of Becky Page.  She simply said, Um, yeah, of course," with a half-smile on her lips.  "Yeah, okay, that's great."
     She directed me to a house a quarter mile away.  We got out and headed for the front door.  Mojo was sitting in a cane rocker on the front porch, intently studying a Cabela's catalog.  She gave her beatific smile at us all, then turned her attention back to the catalog, silent as always.  Crystal told her, "Hey, I got something for you later," then led us into the house.
     A man and a woman looked up at the arrivals.  Crystal said, "These are the people who want to shoot some video.  This is, um, Roach, Steve, Becky, and Lenny.  This is my mom Rose, and my stepdad Arthur.  I'm gonna show them good spots to film.  Hey, has Mojo been here for the past couple nights?"
     Rose answered, "Yes, she has.  Mojo crashed out on the sofa Friday night and stayed there until this morning."
     "I was wondering what had happened to her.  Huh."
     "You need to keep a closer eye on your sister.  You know she....  Gets lost easily."
     Crystal got pissed at this comment.  "Hey, she's the older sibling!  She can grasp reality just fuckin' fine, she just likes having everybody leading her around by the hand, so she doesn't have to be bothered with thinking.  What she needs is an ass-kicking."
     "Oh, Crystal...." said Rose.
     A young girl walked into the room.  Crystal said, "Hello, precious."  I swear the kid sneered at her, making a path straight for the TV.
     Arthur asked Crystal, "So where are you going to have them set up?"
     "I'm going to show them a few good spots and let them choose.  We don't know yet.  Maybe somewhere along the creek."
     "They won't be near the stamp mill, right?"
     Crystal got irritated again.  "No, Arthur, we're not going that direction at all, they want someplace that's actually pretty to film.  All your shit will be safe, Arthur.  Jesus."  She turned to us and said, "C'mon, let's get going.  I'll show you some good locations."
     We went out and got back in the car.  Crystal said, "Arthur runs a still, making moonshine.  He likes to pretend no one knows what he's doing.  Stupid-ass hillbilly.  He ought to just grow weed like everyone else around here, he'd make better money and wouldn't risk a fucking explosion."
     Crystal guided us up the road, then turned me down a dirt track, an old logging trail.  We wound down to a lower elevation and came out on a small meadow bordered by a stream.  "Okay, here's one good spot.  You said you wanted meadow.  We should walk from here, there won't be anyplace to turn your car around past here."
     We walked along the stream and came upon a sylvan glen.  We had been in conifers, this area had oak and willow, with a lot of grass and fern.  We continued on.  I was suddenly aware of the sound of loudly rushing water.  We came around a tall clump of bushes and found ourselves looking at a 150 foot cascading waterfall.  In the foreground the stream had a wide grassy bank to it.  A few willows sheltered the opposite bank.  It was beautiful.
     Small Steve said, "Wow, this place gets my vote.  What a backdrop."
     Bekka slipped off a creeper and stuck a toe in the water, which she immediately removed.  "Whoa, we won't be playing in the water, that stuff is frigid."
     "This is incredible," commented Roach.
     "Okay, let's go get the stuff," I said.  "So Steve, what are we looking at, ninety minutes of raw footage?  The scene is only supposed to play out for four minutes.  Hell, is there gonna be a money shot?"
     Steve said, "Between seventy-five and ninety.minutes should be plenty.  I want to make it a sampling of positions interspersed with shots of the two showing affection.  Looking into each other's eyes, holding each other close, kissing, like that.  Really show they've fallen in love, and are now in paradise.  Hey Bekka, Roach, c'mere.  You think we should have a money shot?  More specifically, do you two think you could make a money shot actually look romantic?
     Roach said, "Well....  Bekka would have to do all the work.  Nothing romantic about watching a guy making himself shoot a load."
     "Roach, whip it out, lemme get it hard," said Bekka.  I want to try something, you guys can tell me if it works.  I think I can have the process of making him come look romantic, like an act of sharing, not just me taking a load, although I'm going to.  Roach doesn't have to do much, it'll mostly be on me to convey a sense of feeling out of this.  Okay, check it."
     While she'd been talking, Bekka had been manipulating Roach's dick with her hands, getting him hard.  Now she dropped to her knees and began sucking and stroking him, but keeping her head back so she could give soulful looks up at Roach with her big dark eyes.  Then she took it out of her mouth, but licked at it while beaming a wide joyful smile up at Roach.
     Bekka said, "So I take his load, but I'm looking up at him and smiling the whole time.  When he's finished, I wrap my arms around him and give him a tight hug around the waist."
     Roach added, "When she does that, I sort of crouch down so I can hug her, pulling her into my chest.  We stay like that, holding each other close, not letting go.  Fade to black."
     Bekka held a hand up at Roach.  He helped lift her off the ground, then somehow managed to tuck his dick back in his Dickies and pull the zipper.  Bekka said, "So how did I do?"
     Small Steve stood there with his eyebrows raised.  He said, "Damn Bekka, you got it.  You looked like Roach was the most beautiful man in the world, and you conveyed with your eyes that it was an act of love, not just sex.  If it looks half as good on tape as it did just now, you''ll be breaking hearts all over the place."
     Laughing, Roach said, "Bekka, those looks you were giving me were making my heart skip a beat.  I'm glad Lenny isn't a jealous man, because the look in your eyes made me wonder if you were going to ask me to run away with you."
     I said, "Actually, I can be a jealous man.  Bekka darling, after today, if I ever see you giving those looks to a man who's not me while you're sucking a dick, we'll be talking through our lawyers, get me?  You could convert Billy Graham to Satanism by giving him that look, he'd do anything you said."
     Crystal had been standing a couple feet to the side, but had seen everything and heard every word.  She looked shell-shocked.  She said, "Oh my god, oh my fucking god.  So in your business, are dicks just treated like props?  Something you can just borrow and use?  The contact you two just had doesn't mean anything?"
     "It really doesn't mean anything," said Roach.  "It can't.  Bekka and I aren't dating, we aren't lovers.  We're co-workers.  I like to think we're also friends, but that is neither here nor there in what you just saw.  We were a small group of people trying to solve a problem.  You asked if dicks are props, and, well, yeah.  It's equipment, it's literally a tool.  Bekka needed to borrow my equipment in order to try an experiment, to test her acting abilities.  It's not that big a deal.  Now, on my own time, when I'm not working, my dick is something different.  It's something I've immensely enjoyed since I was twelve.  It is the source, and butt, of a lot of jokes.  And it's something I use to show my girlfriend I love her.
     "In a little while, Bekka and I take off our clothes and do our best to convince viewers that we are two people having the most incredible sexual experiences of our lives.  We're not.  It's acting.  I know Bekka is a very talented actress.  She must be, she can convince people that she has great emotional attachment to pizza-faced suburban punk.  As I said before, Bekka and I are friends.  But when we're working together, neither of us care if the other one comes.  That's not why we're here.  We are entertainers.  And ultimately, the only difference between a juggler and a porn star is which parts of their bodies they use to entertain.  That, and the juggler probably doesn't shower three times a day, unlike the porn star."
     Crystal stared wide-eyed at Roach.  "Dude, how old are you?" she asked.
     "I'm nineteen," said Roach.  "I'm a white trash suburban punk who was blessed with a large penis and excellent stamina, and had the blind luck to sleep with the girl who lives with Lenny and Bekka.  Lenny learned of my gifts and offered me a job, which apparently I do well, because he has yet to tell me to get lost.  I get paid to have sex with the most beautiful women in the world, so if you think I'm some kind of smug bastard, that's probably the reason.  Today I'll be having sex with Lenny's wife, who is certainly the sexiest woman alive.  To sum up, I am happy.  Are you?"
     "Right now I'm weirded out.  Is this how porn is made?"
     I replied, "In our case, this is how good porn is made.  I doubt other studios do what we just did, but the other studios aren't trying to evoke emotion from their viewers, they're just trying to help lonely men get themselves off.  Inana does a lot of things differently, a lot of which I've already told you about.  What you'll watch today will show the basic mechanics of how porn is made.  We're missing a lot of crew, and we're only shooting one short scene, so there are differences.  But you'll at least have a grasp of how things in this industry go.  Enough gabbing, let's grab the stuff."
     We hiked back to the Fleetwood and got in the trunk.  Out came a video camera, tripod, battery pack, recording deck, a single size blanket, a cooler holding bottled water and sodas, and a duffel bag containing towels, a bottle of Astroglide, sunblock, and eight Snickers bars.  Before we went back to the waterfall, Bekka, Roach, and myself opted to sit in the car and pass the glass pipe around a few times.  Crystal stood outside and smirked at us: she considered anything but intravenous use of dope to be primitive and ineffective.
     When we arrived back at the location, I realized there were now six of us.  Mojo had appeared from somewhere, and was watching with fascination as Small Steve set up his tripod and camera.  (There was no dialogue, so we were just relying on the built-in microphone on the camera to pick up sound.)  Crystal saw Mojo, walked over, and asked in an aggravated manner, "Mojo, what are you doing here?  Why are you here?"
     Mojo answered, "Mom said you took your friends to the pretty places so they could make a video.  I know where the pretty places are, so I came to see."
     "Look Mojo, they're gonna be making porn.  They're filming people having sex.  Do you want to watch people having sex?"
     Mojo nodded like she was trying to shake water out of her ear.
     "You sure about that?" continued Crystal.  "They were, uh, rehearsing a little while ago, and actually seeing it happening is very strange and weird.  You might get freaked out, and if you do, don't run to me, run home.  Mom and Arthur can deal with your bullshit."
     Mojo said, "I've seen porn.  I want to learn how porn works."
     I said to Crystal, "Let her stay.  Both of you are new to this.  Mojo, all we ask is that you keep very quiet and stay back with me and Crystal, okay?  If you're bothered, wait until a cut and then you can go sit in my Cadillac.  Okay?"
     Mojo smiled widely and vigorously nodded her head again.
     Bekka called, "Hey Steve, I don't think we'll need the blanket.  The grass is thick, short, and soft.  We should be fine working on the ground."
     "You're sure it's not muddy?" I asked.  "What about bugs?"
     "The grass is thick enough that if the soil is wet, we won't get muddy from it.  And I''m not seeing bugs.  We'll be good, and it'll look better.  More natural, like we're in Eden."
     We went through our order of action: makeout (standing), blowjob, doggy style, reverse cowgirl, missionary, scissors, back to doggy style, blow and stroke, money shot.  Bekka and Roach began to strip down.  As they did, Bekka teased Roach, "Miss your favorite fluffer?"
     Roach chuckled.  "Yeah, I really do.  But it didn't make any sense to bring her along for this.  They shouldn't be paying for her to prep one guy for one scene."
     "Don't worry, I'll prep you when we're at our marks.  Actually, I just had an evil thought....  Hey Crystal!"
     "What's up?" Crystal called back.
     With an evil smile, Bekka said, "How'd you like to be very useful?"
     "Doing what?"
     "Suck Roach's dick.  Suck him until he's hard, and then stop.  He needs prepping."
     There was a pause.  Then Crystal asked, "What do I get paid?"
     "$250 and dinner," answered Bekka.
     Crystal silently walked over to Roach, dropped to her knees, and stuffed his flaccid penis in her mouth.  Bekka pulled Crystal off, saying, "No sense in doing it now, they're not ready yet.  You'd just have to do it again.  You don't have to if you don't want to."
     Crystal said, "I can take the chrome off a bumper, and I can be objective with a dick too.  Cash, right?"
     "I'm sure Lenny has it."
     Just then Small Steve said for the two co-stars to take their marks.  Crystal followed.  She dropped down in front of Roach and went to work.  The longer she worked, the larger Roach got, and the more distressed she looked.  Roach finally stroked Crystal's head, signalling that he was good.  Crystal leaned back and considered the size of what she'd wrought.  "Mary fuckin' almighty," she commented.
     I'd heard a staccato hissing sound behind me.  I turned around to see Mojo holding a hand over her mouth and turning red, while gesturing with her other hand.  I realized she was pointing and laughing at her sister.  I grabbed her shoulders and pivoted her away from the scene.  I said, "Hey, hey, hey.  If you think watching this is going to make you laugh, you've gotta go, full stop.  Or were you laughing because it was Crystal?"
     "Yes.  Oh yes," replied Mojo.
     "Okay, quiet, we're starting."
     Crystal walked up to where we were standing, and Mojo nearly busted up again at the sight of her, having to turn away.  Crystal responded with, "Hey, you stupid fry-brained hippie cunt, try to tell me you don't make stupid faces when you suck a dick.  Airhead, you don't even have the guts to suck on something that big, so fuck off and die."  She moodily lit a cigarette.
    Steve called for action, and Bekka and Roach started.  They went through their moves, Steve calling cuts so he could get different angles of the footage.  An hour in I realized both sisters were much more fascinated with the proceedings than they would ever admit to being.  Crystal had her hand up her skirt, and Mojo was grinding her thighs together.
     Steve called cut, and Roach said, "Hey Steve, can we take five for a smoke and water?  I'm parched."
     "Me too," said Bekka."
     Steve gave his approval and the two broke apart, heading to the boulder was where they'd left their clothes.  They retrieved and lit cigarettes, then headed for the cooler for water.  Roach was saying to Bekka, "If I'm going too deep during doggy style, slap the ground and I'll back off.  No sense having you uncomfortable through that one."
     Roach was still quite hard when he approached the cooler, which was where the sisters were standing, supping on free Pepsi.  Both had their eyes locked on his phallus as he walked up, not breaking their gaze even when he said good afternoon to them.  I wondered if it was lust, amazement, or terror.  Bekka came over for her own water and said, "So what do you think of my work day so far?"
     Crystal snapped out of her penis-induced reverie and said, "You guys just keep going, and going, and going.  My hips and legs hurt just from watching you."  She turned to Roach and said, "Dude, don't you ever come?"
     Roach replied, "I come when I'm supposed to come.  Like I said before, I've got good stamina, good control.  I can come in three minutes, three hours, or not at all.  I don't know why I can do that, but I can, and it helps a lot on this job."
     "But you've gotta be blueballed right now, though...."
     "No, that never happens to me, which is good, considering my career."
     Small Steve said, "Finish your cigarettes and take your marks, please.  You both look great, you're doing fantastic.  If the money shot works well, we could just put out this footage as a full loop.  You're both hot."
     They finished their smokes.  Bekka tapped Crystal and said with a smile, "Your work day isn't over.  Time to get Roach hard again."
     Crystal turned to move towards where Roach was standing.  However, Mojo had other ideas of her own.  Upon hearing Bekka, she practically threw herself at Roach's crotch and began working on him with her mouth.  Roach stepped backwards and said, "What the fuck?  What are you doing, lady?"  Mojo followed him on her hands and knees.  Crystal grabbed Mojo by the throat and threw her backwards, yelling, "You dizzy-ass hippie cunt!  You don't get to steal my job!"
     I got in the space between Mojo and Roach, grabbing Mojo by her shoulders.  I said, "Mojo, you can't do that.  What were you thinking?  We don't need or allow freelancers."
     Mojo said, "I want him.  I want him.  He can have me how he wants, I just want him."
     "Okay.  You're a little too worked up.  You can't have him.  Right now he's at work, what he's doing doesn't mean anything.  It's just a job.  And I also know he has a girlfriend he is very much in love with, so you wouldn't be able to talk him into spending the night with you.  You've got too much of a head of steam built up right now, I think you need to take a walk.  Go up to your mom's house, we'll be coming back there before we leave.  You wanna have steaks at the bar tonight?  That's where we're going.  Does that sound good?  We'll come and get you at your mom's, and we'll have some dinner."
     Mojo looked at me with wet eyes and said, "He is not a man.  He is an angel, a greater being.  I love angels.  I want to know him, and to be with him."
     "Honey, he's a nineteen year old punk from a shitty neighborhood in San Diego.  He's a nice guy, but he is no angel.  You can talk to him at dinner, you'll see he is just a man."
     She stared at me blankly for a moment, then frowned.  She said, "Now I have proof that I am better than my sister.  She sucks dick for money."
     I responded, "Technically, so does my wife.  That doesn't work for a litmus, not for me anyway.  Your sister provided a needed service."
     Mojo's Coriolis Effect eyes landed and locked on Bekka.  She squeaked and slapped my arm, pointing.  "The woman," she said.
     "Yes, that's my wife Bekka.  What about her?"
     "She...." Mojo took a deep breath.  "She is not a woman, and she is not an angel.  She is an energy, she is love, purely, distilled.  Your wife is pure love.  She is a force, she transcends all."
     I gave a friendly smile and said, "Yeah, I've often said the same thing myself.  You know, you're still worked up, you need to take a walk.  Go up to your mom's place and kick back there, we'll be there in a little while, as soon as we're done working.  Get going, child."
     Mojo smiled, ran her hand through my hair, then began jogging down the trace of a path that ran along the edge of the stream.  From her backview, I could see damp stains at her crotch.  The day's events had certainly taken their toll on that girl.  With her brain as fried as it was, I wondered if she could conceive of lust, of the primal mating urge.  Her intellect might be confused by it, and shut the idea of being horny out.  But you can never shut the body down.  Her body saw something it liked, and went into overdrive.  For better or worse, it couldn't bring the mind with it.
     Crystal was on her knees in front of Roach, but hadn't started yet.  Like everyone else, she was watching Mojo leave.  She said, "Look, I'm really sorry about that.  Fuckin' dimwit...."
     Roach said, "Um....  Is she okay?"
     "No.  She's proof that LSD can fuck you up permanently.  She was a Deadhead, and when she came home she was a goddamn space cadet.  Always talking about how we're surrounded by angels, when she talks at all.  She can go for days without speaking unless you prompt her.  And my fuckin' mom wants me to be her babysitter.  What she needs is a few punches to the head to roll her brains back into place."
     We all stood around looking uncomfortable.  Roach said, "That seems kind of hostile."
     Crystal said, "Maybe it is.  Look, I barely take care of myself and my daughter, I can't be hand-holding for a mental cripple, even if she is my older sister.  I do what I can, and if that's not enough, well, fuck me."
     Small Steve quietly said, "Let's do this, people."
     Roach glared down at Crystal and growled, "Get me hard.  I've got work to do."
     Crystal went to work.  Roach's facial expression was one of annoyance and boredom, as though he regretted not having brought a magazine.  He responded physically, and that was all.
     The rest of the shoot went smoothly.  It probably helped --- a lot --- that Roach was working with Bekka, Becky Page, the subject of many fantasies.  Roach still had a crush on my wife.  I would not deny that to him, as he was one of millions of men hung up on her.  He got to fulfill his fantasies, to an extent; I wondered what he would do if simply told to follow the muse, do what he liked with her.  My hunch was it would make for lousy porn.  The impression I got from her male fans was that Becky Page would not be a conquest, but a partner and confessor.  Men (and women) wanted to hold Becky Page tightly and tell her that she was beautiful, that alone they were fearful but being with Becky gave them courage, they could be partners and conquer all.  With Becky at their side, the sources of fear and anxiety in their lives would evaporate.
     I didn't watch the money shot, or the stroke and blow leading up to it.  Bekka's talents were too good, I didn't want to see my wife making love to another man.  Intellectually, I knew it was only performance.  But seeing it being done was hard to witness, Bekka was too skilled an actress.  She conveyed feeling and emotion like they were real.  Crystal and I walked down around a bend in the stream and smoked my cigarettes, waiting for them to finish.
     In a little while, Small Steve came trotting up and said, "We're all done.  You okay, Lenny?  It's never bugged you to see that before."
     I said, "That one was hard.  That wasn't a normal money shot, you know?"
     "I know....  Hey man, Bekka is just a skilled actress, right?  She knew what we wanted to convey, and did a good job of it, that's all.  You know it wasn't real."
     "Yeah....  Well, I'm sure they both work better without a husband standing out of shot glaring at them, you know?  Best to let them work in peace."
     Bekka and Roach had washed up using the stream, and were pulling their clothes on.  Bekka saw me coming, beamed a bright smile, and gave me a hug.  "I'm pretty sure that worked out good," she said.  She stepped back and put her hand on my neck.  "Hey.  Lenny.  Quit glaring at Roach like that.  This was a job, nothing more.  Don't tell me you're having a jealous fit after all these years of me performing, especially over a kid like Roach."
     I shook my head.  "Maybe you're a little too talented sometimes."
     Bekka's eyes got wet.  She said, "It was just acting, it meant nothing.  I love you.  It's over with, it's all done, and it didn't matter.  You know what I was thinking about?  How hungry I was.  That's how much I cared about what we were doing.  We always tell it to other people, and I'm telling it to you: it's only performance.  Okay?"
     I stepped over and grabbed a couple Snickers bars and handed them to Bekka.  She ripped into one, took a bite, and chewed.  "There, you just satisfied me and made me happier than Roach did.  And when we get back to our room tonight, I'll show you how much I love you.  And what I'll be doing will mean something."
     I sighed.  "All right.  I love you."
     "I love you too."  She kissed my cheek.  "Let me wolf these down, and we'll get stuff back in the car."

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