Friday, August 5, 2016

Angels (Part 1)

     Despite the fact that we're in San Diego, Roach is wearing two jackets.  He has on his leather, and on top of that a denim vest.  Roach is damn proud of that vest.  Over the left breast is a white patch with blue lettering that reads "Fucker."  On the back is a largish patch.  The image is a skull, or death's head, with long ornate wings coming off of it.  Curving above it are the words "Hells Angels," and below, "San Diego." 
Roach removes both jackets as one piece and puts them on a hanger in the sound stage.  The patches are new, and he does not want them to get creased or wrinkled.  That's how proud he is of that vest.  Stripping down, he leaves the rest of his clothes in a pile on the floor.

     "How you doing, pint size," he said to a tiny bleached blonde girl sitting in an office chair reading a book.  "Sorry I missed lunch, I was doing some wrenching down in National City."
     The blonde replied, "Hey honey.  No big deal, I hit Carl's Jr. with Eddie and Elspeth.  So you're working with Rio and Donna today, huh?"
     "Yeah, I saw 'em downstairs, they were putting their clothes in their lockers.  I'll wait until they're up here before you prep me."  Roach bent down and gave the girl, whose name was Dawn, a warm kiss.  Then he leaned against the wall, stark naked, stroking the girl's hair.
     Roach was a bit of an enigma, a study in contrasts.  A punk rocker (hence the leather), he was also a second generation outlaw biker.  Only nineteen, he was a male performer for a pornographic video studio named Inana Productions.  Despite the machismo associated with his Hell's Angels membership, he truly loved women, preferring their company over that of guys.  He was probably one of the toughest bastards I'd ever known, yet had the genteel good manners one would expect from a prep student on Parents' Day.  He had not sought out the Angels, they had drafted him, taking him as he was, mohawk and all.  He rode his red soft tail Harley, an outlaw custom with lots of chrome, everywhere he went, unless he was grocery shopping.  Dawn, his roommate and girlfriend, would watch him fuck different porn stars, but feel no traces of jealousy or resentment.  Since Dawn was a fluff girl for the studio and enjoyed her work, she couldn't be a hypocrite.
     Calm Steve the director came in, saw Roach naked, and said, "You're jumping the gun.  We've got about ninety seconds of setup dialogue before you get your dick out.  Here's the script, you've only got a few lines."
     Roach read over the two sheets of paper he'd been handed.  They were shooting a loop, what would be a twenty to thirty minute short with the barest of plots established at the beginning, then just wall to wall suck and fuck.  The "plot" of today's loop was that Roach had helped move Rio and Sue into their new apartment.  They decided to show their appreciation.  He read it over a few times, muttering his lines as he did.  Roach was a talented actor, and nobody would care if his lines weren't word for word accurate, so long as the gist was clear and it seemed natural.  He pulled his jeans, t-shirt, socks and boots back on and waited.
     Donna and Rio came in the sound stage, wearing skimpy clothing.  They were six and nine years older than Roach, respectively.  This had bothered them a little at first, they felt like cradle-robbers.  However, Roach's professional approach to the job and his charm and manners had warmed them up to him.  He gave them each a hug in greeting, as always.  That was another difference with Roach: he was very solicitous of the women he worked with, unlike the other studs.  To be a male performer in porn requires huge amounts of self-confidence and a very healthy ego.  This often drifted into aloofness and narcissism.  Roach demonstrated none of that, he was warm and friendly on set, chatting and cracking jokes with the woman or women.  All the girls at Inana liked working with him due to his courteous behavior.
     "And how is my favorite outlaw?" asked Rio in her Brazilian accent, punching Roach in the arm.
     Roach said, "Same old shit.  Strip cars in the morning, sex with beautiful women in the afternoon.  At least I have a routine down."
     Donna asked, "Are you still willing to tune up my little sister's car this weekend?"
     "Sure.  Is it running funny or anything?"
     "It runs rough, and it gets pretty crappy mileage, considering its size.  I've offered to loan her the money to get something a little better, but she doesn't want to owe people any money while she's going to school full time and not working.  I just hope nothing serious breaks on it."
     "Let's see...." Roach paused.  "Volkswagen Sirocco, five speed, fuel injected....  1986?"
     "An '87," Donna corrected.  "When it's running right, it's damn fun to drive."
     "Okay.  I'll get plugs, points, a rotor, new wires, filters, and an injector cleaning kit.  If that doesn't improve things, I'll poke around, see what I can learn."
     Donna kissed his cheek.  "You're a doll.  Save receipts on parts and bill me whatever you think is fair for your labor.  Hup, Sally and Mickey are here.  You better get prepped."
     Calm Steve gave a two minute warning.  Roach stepped in front of Dawn and pulled his dick out of his fly.  She immediately began sucking on it, getting him hard.  When he was all the way up, Roach managed to wrangle it back into his pants and button up.  Calm Steve said, "Okay, places.  Camera, sound, and action."
     The three performers started their dialogue.  Roach played it a bit shy, the girls making we're-so-naughty faces.  They both began rubbing his crotch.  The scripted dialogue was over, now it was up to the three of them to ad-lib sounds of sexual pleasure.  Dawn settled into her book, she probably wouldn't have another thing to do for a while.  Once hard, Roach would stay hard, so unless there was an equipment failure, he would be fine through the short cuts called by Calm Steve to move around cameras and lights.
     After ninety minutes, Calm Steve called to take ten so the performers could smoke and drink some water.  Roach grabbed his smokes out of his jacket, the girls went to their lockers.  Once armed, they went out by the pool to smoke, still naked.  Rio leaned on Roach and asked, "So, you take me for another ride on your motorcycle, eh?"
     Roach rolled his eyes.  "Me doing that gives Dawn the jealous fits.  If you really want to go for a ride so bad, I'm sure there are plenty of guys in the club who would be happy to double-pack you.  Come on down to the bar some night, I'll introduce you around."
     Rio made a face of comic shock.  She said, "You would introduce me to Hell's Angels?  They are bad men, scary men.  How do I know I would be safe around them?"
     "Because I'd tell them you're a friend of mine, and to treat you like a lady.  As long as they knew you were hanging out with Dawn and me, you'd be left alone.  But if you get yourself in trouble by flirting the way you do, I can't help you."
     "There are Hell's Angels in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo.  They are considered very dangerous.  It is assumed they are criminals, for they have those motorcycles yet live in the favelas.  Are you now a criminal, Roach?"
     Roach chuckled.  "Actually, less of one than I used to be.  I quit slinging dope.  And the other guys might be in some sort of racket, but that's their own business.  Nothing to do with the club."
     Donna said, "What was the appeal of joining?  Why the Hell's Angels, of all people?"
     "Really, it's a social thing.  I was raised an outlaw.  I won't follow in my parents' footsteps, because they're idiots, but I'm still an outlaw, just instinctively.  It's the culture I understand.  Really, we're just a bunch of guys who are into motorcycles, that's all.  Yeah, we're tough, but that's the result of other people fucking with us.  I didn't pledge, I was recruited, which was flattering.  I knew I'd end up holding a patch with some club, but I wasn't expecting it to be with the Angels.  I'm proud the Angels picked me, it means they think I've got a lot on the ball.  And when people see you're flying the colors, they give you some respect.  People see the colors, they call me 'sir.'  They know I'm part of an elite, and that I won't put up with taking any shit."
     "So you're a tough guy, and you hang around with other tough guys."
     Snickering, Roach said, "I can take care of myself, and I'll get the backs of my friends and my fellow Angels.  I'm a lover.  But I've had to face people down, with no backup, my whole life.  My dad used to beat the crap out of me.  I've never felt better than on the day when I was fifteen I finally put him on the ground.  When I was a little kid, I'd try to run from him.  Then I tried fighting back.  It took a while, but I finally was able to best him, make it clear he couldn't treat me that way.  He tried a few more times, and each time I flattened him.
     "My dad is a scumbag and an asshole.  Neither him nor mom gave a shit about me.  I had to take care of myself.  My dad would get all drunk and tweaked and yell at me about how I owed him.  For what?  Being the fucking sperm donor that brought me into this world?  Shit, right now he owes me, to the tune of $400, for dope.  He always wanted me to be an adult.  Now I am one, and I'm acting like one, and one of the ways I am is by collecting what is owed to me.  All those tools in the garage?  Those are his.  I'm holding them as collateral for the money he owes me.  He says he can't believe that I'd do that to him, and I'm afraid he's right, he really can't believe it.  He doesn't realize that I'm treating him with exactly as much respect as he deserves.
     "So being in H.A. gives me a feeling of family and community I've never had before, like I really belong.  I sort of did in the punk scene, but we were all kids.  I know I can depend on the Angels to lend a hand if I need one.  I've got people I can respect and trust.  I never have to worry about another Angel fucking me over, because you don't do that to a fellow Angel.  We can all depend on each other.
     "What's hilarious is that I'm looking forward to seeing my old man tomorrow.  He's gonna shit.  As near as I know, he's never held a patch with any club, and his head is gonna explode when he sees me flying the colors.  Yeah dad, I am worth something.  H.A. decided I was good enough to roll with them, which is more than you can say.  And you know enough to not talk shit to anyone flying the colors."
     "A sense of family, of belonging," echoed Donna, wide-eyed.  "Their dangerous reputation doesn't bother you?"
     "Angels are good people," said Roach.  "We're only dangerous when we're fucked with.  Like I said, I'm a lover.  I don't look for trouble.  But I won't run away from it, either.  And being an Angel means you garner respect.  I never got any respect growing up.  Now people see me flying the colors and call me 'sir.'  And I'll respect them back, it works both ways.  To a lot of people being in H.A. means you're a scumbag, a criminal.  Maybe, maybe not.  But we'll only be dealt with on our own terms."
The three of them began heading back into the mansion.  Donna asked, "So would I be safe, being around the Angels?"
     "What do you mean?" asked Roach.
     "Well, I've heard they attack women."
     Roach chuckled again.  "Okay, there are some guys who are pretty crude in their approach to women.  Ignore them, or get next to an Angel who isn't being crude.  You're safer around the Angels than you would be around a bunch of drunken frat-boys.  Me, I love women, and I'd never do anything to hurt one."
     "For why do you have the word 'Fucker' on the front of your vest?" asked Rio.
     "Aw man," laughed Roach.  "That's my name in the club.  They know how I make a living, and are amazed by it, to be frank.  How do I earn a living?  What do I do?  I fuck.  Thus, I'm a fucker.  So that's what they call me.  I still go by Roach around non-Angels, and most of the guys randomly call me by either name.  But yeah, I got named Fucker when they drafted me."
     They stepped back into the sound stage.  Roach stepped in front of Dawn, bent down, and gave her a kiss.  "Hey babe, how ya doing?" he asked.
     "Bored, like usual," was Dawn's answer.  "We going down to the bar again tonight?"
     "I'd like to.  Tell you what, we'll have dinner downtown.  We'll go the the Old Spaghetti Factory, I know you like that place."
     "That would be nice," smiled Dawn.  "We're going to visit your folks tomorrow, huh?"
     Roach said, "Yeah.  I doubt it'll be a terribly long visit.  I'll hector my dad for the money he owes me, he'll yell at me for confiscating his tools, I'll show him my patch, his head will explode.  Real simple.  Then I'll pry the bottle of Royal Gate away from my mom's face long enough to give her a hug, and we're outta there.  No bar tomorrow, promise.  We'll go home and make dinner, just kick back."
     Calm Steve said, "Roach, get prepped.  Let's get rolling."
     Straightening up, Roach breathed in and out slowly.  Dawn got his dick in her mouth, working him hard.  When he was ready, he said, "Thank you," and gave Dawn another kiss.  He joined Donna and Rio, taking their marks again.  Calm Steve called for action, and the three began sucking and fucking again.  And so the work day continued.
     An hour or so later, they finished.  Rio took the money shot.  They got off the floor and couch, stretching.  Roach gave them both hugs, then went downstairs to grab towels for the three of them.  They hit the showers, Roach loudly singing "Steak Knife" by the Angry Samoans as he washed up.  He toweled off and got dressed.  He and Dawn went downstairs for an after-work smoke and soda.  Sitting out on the patio, Dawn made a confession.
     "I haven't said anything, but I'm worried about you being in H.A.  I'm afraid I'll end up having to visit you in prison, and I'd hate that."
     Roach said, "Don't worry.  I'm cleaner now than I used to be, I'm not dealing.  The most I could get busted for would be a straight possession charge, and since my record is clean, I'd just go through the drug diversion program.  I wouldn't even have probation."
     "It just seems like the Angels are real prone to prison time," sighed Dawn.
     "Yeah, but not for being Angels.  They got caught out doing something dirty.  I'm gonna stay clean.  If anybody offers me any business opportunities, I'll just smile and say no thanks.  We're doing okay for ourselves, we don't need the extra income."
     "Promise you'll stay clean?"
     "Of course," answered Roach.  "Look, when you hear about a Hell's Angel going to prison, it's the individual's problem.  The club itself is clean.  You can't be arrested just for being a Hell's Angel."
     They rode on the soft tail into downtown San Diego, Roach anchoring at the curb and dropping change into the meter.  Dawn stood up on the passenger foot pegs --- one of the rare occasions her feet were in contact with them --- and swung off the bike, unzipping her leather.  She was happy Bekka had pointed her at the hipster shop that carried a wide variety of sizes of leathers.  They strolled into the Old Spaghetti Factory and waited for a table.
     While they stood and waited, an average suburban tourist family came in.  They had been all chattering at each other in a crabby way, four people who had been stuck in the same car together for too long.  They suddenly became silent.  Mom, Dad, Sis and Bud were all staring at Roach when he turned around.  He grinned and nodded.  Dad nodded back, averting his eyes.  Mom requested a table and they all sat down on an empty bench.  To pass the time, Roach began talking with Dawn.  "So, I'm working with Bekka tomorrow, a one on one...."
     Dawn tittered at this.  "Your favorite girl.  Have you lived out all your fantasies yet?"
     "What do you mean?"
     "Oh please, Roach," Dawn tittered some more.  "Try to convince me that you're the only straight nineteen year old male in the country who's never had a hang-up for Becky Page."
     Roach got a bit pink and said, "Oh.  Yeah.  Well....  Of course I thought she was hot, who wouldn't?  And yes, I've done things with Bekka that I'd fantasized about.  But I try to be a professional when I work with her, just like I do with all the other girls.  I'm not about to fanboy out on her.  The crush is dead, now Becky Page is just a coworker.  Don't start making jealous noises over her."
     "I wouldn't dare.  I'd hardly blame you for looking down while she's sucking your dick and thinking, 'I'm doing something that every other guy my age wishes he was doing.'"
     Roach rubbed Dawn's shoulder and said, "I got over that my second week on the job.  Besides, you should be proud to know you suck better dick than Becky Page."
     He heard a sharp intake of breath from the bench.  Turning, he saw Mom looking scandalized and Sis going somewhat red and stifling a giggle.  Sis looked about sixteen or seventeen.  She screwed up her courage and said, "Are you talking about Becky Page?"
     "We are," answered Roach.  "Why do you ask?"
     "Um, just wondering.  Becky Page is really cool."
     Mom reached over and slapped Sis's leg, saying, "I still can't believe your aunt let you watch those movies.  It's terrible.  You're obsessed with a woman no better than a prostitute, she's disgusting."
     Roach frowned at Mom.  He said, "I will take some umbrage at you saying that, ma'am.  How did you draw that conclusion about Becky Page?"
     Dad was looking panic-stricken.  Mom forged ahead, saying, "Look what she does for a living!  How can any woman with self respect do what she does?"
     "I take it you've seen some of her movies?"
     Mom sniffed, "Absolutely not, I would never watch such trash.  And my own sister allowed my daughter to watch several of them!  She's seventeen, underage!  Now my daughter thinks that Becky Page is the greatest thing since sliced bread."
     Dawn said, "You don't have a leg to stand on.  You criticize media you have never seen, and you vilify a woman you have never met.  I can tell you from personal experience that Becky Page is warm, caring, kind, generous...."
     Roach picked it up.  ".... Moral, open-minded, open-hearted, and intelligent.  She is a wonderful person."  To Sis he asked, "So you like Becky's movies?"
     Sis said, "Yeah.  Yeah, they're porn, but they're really good movies, and they, you know, show everything, but it's not gross.  And Becky never gets pushed around or bullied or made to do things she doesn't want to.  Becky Page is....  Well, she's really sexy, you know?"
     Dawn and Roach both laughed.  "Oh, we know, we know...."
     Looking peeved, Mom said, "You speak as though you know this woman."
     Roach said, "We do.  She is a friend and coworker.  We work at the same studio with her, I've worked with her directly on several occasions.  Tell me, why do you call her a prostitute?  You said you haven't seen her movies, so you can't judge her on-screen behavior.  Is it just because of what she does in front of the cameras?"
     Mom said, "Yes!  How could anyone have sex in a roomful of people, and film and distribute it for the whole world to see?"
     "Ma'am, it's only performance.  It is a unique form of acting, a type of acting which few people are capable of.  I'm a performer myself, and while it may look like sex, it isn't.  It doesn't count.  The psychological and emotional elements that make sex real are missing.  Only in it's most physical form does it count as sex.  Becky is not having sex with random men, she actually isn't having sex at all.  It's a measure of her acting abilities that people think she is.  But physical interaction does not equate to sex, unless you have no soul.  And Becky Page has a shitload of soul."
     "But why does she do it at all?"
     Dawn said, "This may come as a shock to you, but sex is a very popular spectator sport for our species.  Becky does it for a few reasons: she is a skilled actress, she enjoys performing, she believes sharing herself in such a way helps make the world a brighter place, and it's made her quite rich.  Your sister appreciates the spectacle of sex, so does your daughter.  We take enjoyment out of it on a very visceral, gut level.  I can find no logical reasons why people shouldn't enjoy porn, and I certainly have no moral objections.  After all, him and I help make it."
     "So you work with Becky Page?  That's so awesome," said Sis.  Mom slapped her leg again.
     "Just what is it you do?" asked Mom.
     Both Roach and Dawn started laughing.  Roach said, "Ma'am, I can guarantee you would be offended if we described what we do for a living.  Suffice it to say that we are very directly involved with the production of pornography.  To oversimplify, we make money with our bodies.  How much detail do you want?"
     "I....  See.  Never mind.  So you claim that Becky Page is a good and moral person, despite what she does for a living.  How would I get to know Becky Page better?"
     "That's easy.  Borrow those movies from your sister.  I'll guess you've seen porn from the Seventies and Eighties, total garbage, exploitative crap.  Becky's movies are nothing like that.  Like your daughter pointed out, they're good movies.  Truly, they are.  Her films are intellectually stimulating entertainment.  She is a gifted actress.  And while her sex scenes are hardcore, they are tasteful.  Watching one of Becky's sex scenes, you feel as though you are watching people making love, not just going through the mechanics of intercourse.  Becky imparts an emotional vibe, like she is sharing herself with the other person, and also with the audience.  Her sex scenes impact the emotions as well as the libido.  It's an amazing feeling."
     Dawn said, "Not to put too fine a point on it, but most porn exists so that lonely men have something to jerk off to.  Becky Page movies are different.  They satisfy the intellect, the desire for entertainment, and the libido, all at once.  Her movies are incredibly rich pieces of media."
     Roach followed up with, "And if your daughter is going to learn about sex from mass media --- and I know she is, since you're not Amish --- she is far, far better off learning it from Becky Page, rather than Madonna, or Lil' Kim, or the Fox Network.  Not only will she understand the physical aspects of sex, she'll learn that she doesn't have to meekly submit, and she doesn't have to be cajoled or bullied into things.  She can be in charge of her own destiny, as it were.  I would call Becky Page a positive sexual role model."
     Mom scowled but remained silent.  Sis was smiling, happy with the argument that had been put forth.  Dad was chewing his thumb and eyeing Roach as though he was going to pull a gun at any moment.  And Bud, about fourteen, was taking all this in in a slightly awed, slack-jawed manner.
     Dad interjected with, "Are you really a Hell's Angel?"
     Roach replied, "I wouldn't wear the colors if I wasn't.  Why?"
     "I just, um, I was curious."
     Roach grinned and said, "Even outlaws like spaghetti, sir."
     Dad frowned and asked, "Why do you have that word on the front of your jacket?"
     "Well, your wife was asking what I did for a living.  That word sums it up.  It's also my club name."
     "Are you saying people call you that?"
     "Yes, and I respond.  It's a literal description of what I am."
     "My god."
     A voice from behind called, "Um....  Roach, party of two.  Roach, party of two."
     Roach said, "That's us.  Listen ma'am, borrow those movies from your sister and watch them, and keep your mind open when you do.  You will understand why Becky Page has become a celebrity, and why your sister would be watching porn to begin with.  And that it's not going to hurt your daughter to see them.  Later."
     Roach and Dawn followed the hostess through the restaurant to a table.  They sat and perused the menu.  Dawn said, "You think she'll do it?"
     "And risk angering a Hell's Angel?" said Roach.  "Damn right she will."

No comments:

Post a Comment