A Stranger in the Mirror (19 page)

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|felt the rip of his penis pressing against her anus. "Wait!" Ijill said. "Not there! I-- I can't --" | "Scream for me, baby!" and he plunged his organ inside |her, ripping her with a terrible pain. With each scream, he |thrust deeper and harder. She tried frantically to get away, |but he was grabbing her hips, shoving himself in and out, 'holding her fast. She was off balance now. As she reached out 'to get leverage, her fingers touched the buttons of the laugh I'machine, and instantly the room was filled with maniacal [laughter. As Jill squirmed in a burning agony, her hands ^pounded the machine, and a woman tittered and a small crowd guffawed and a girl giggled and a hundred voices cackled and chuckled and roared at some obscene, secret joke. The echoes bounced hysterically around the walls as Jill cried out with pain. Suddenly she felt a series of quick shudders and a moment later the alien piece of flesh inside her was withdrawn, tod slowly the laughter in the room died away. Jill stayed Still, her eyes shut, fighting the pain. When finally she was able to straighten up and turn around, Fred Kapper was zipping up his fly. "You were sensational, sweetheart. That screaming really turns me on." And Jill wondered what kind of an animal he would be when he was nineteen. He saw that she was bleeding. "Get yourself cleaned up and come over to Stage Twelve. You start working this afternoon." After that first experience, the rest was easy. Jill began to work regularly at all the studios: Wamer Brothers, Paramount, MGM, Universal, Columbia, Fox. Everywhere, in fact, except at Disney, where sex did not exist.

i The role that Jill created in bed was a fantasy, and she ; acted it out with skill, preparing herself as though she were i playing a part. She read books on Oriental erotica and bought f philters and stimulants from a sex shop on Santa Monica j Boulevard. She had a lotion that an airline stewardess brought | her from the Orient, with the faintest touch of wintergreen in

it. She learned to massage her lovers slowly and sensuously. "Lie there and think about what I'm doing to your body," she whispered. She rubbed the lotion across the man's chest and down his stomach toward his groin, making gentle, circling motions. "Close your eyes and enjoy it." Her fingers were as light as butterfly wings, moving down his body, caressing him. When he began to have an erection, Jill would take his growing penis in her hand and softly stroke it, moving her tongue down between his legs until he was squirming with pleasure, then continuing down slowly, all the way to his toes. Then Jill would turn him over, and it all began again. When a man's organ was limp, she put the head of it just inside the lips of her vagina, -and slowly drew him inside her, feeling it grow hard and stiff. She taught the men the waterfall, and how to peak and stop just before an orgasm and then build again and peak again, so that when they finally came, it was an ecstatic explosion. They had their pleasure and got dressed and left. No one ever stayed long enough to give her the loveliest five minutes in sex, the quiet holding afterward, the peaceful oasis of a lover's arms. Providing Jill with acting parts was a small price to pay for the pleasure she gave the casting men, the assistant directors, the directors and the producers. She became known around town as a "red-hot piece of ass", and everyone was eager for his share. And Jill gave it. Each time she did, there was that much less self-respect and love in her, and that much more hatred and bitterness. She did not know how, or when, but she knew that one day this town would pay for what it had done to her.

During the next five years, Jill appeared in dozens of movies and television shows and commercials. She was the secretary who said, "Good morning, Mr. Stevens", and the baby-sitter who said, "Don't worry now, you two have a good evening. I'll put the children to bed", and the elevator operator who announced, "Sixth floor next", and the girl in the ski outfit who confided, "All my girlfriends use Dainties". But nothing ever happened. She was a nameless face in the crowd. She was in the Business, and yet she was not, and she

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could not bear the thought of spending the rest of her life like this. In 1969 Jill's mother died and Jill drove to Odessa for the funeral. It was late afternoon and there were fewer than a dozen people at the service, none of them the women her mother had worked for all those years. Some of the churchgoers were there, the doom-saying revivalists. Jill remembered how terrified she had been at those meetings. But her mother had found some sort of solace in them, the exorcising of whatever demons had tormented her. A familiar voice said quietly, "Hello, Josephine." She turned and he was standing'at her side and she looked into his eyes and it was as though they had never been apart, as though they still belonged to each other. The years had stamped a maturity on his face, added a sprinkling of gray to his sideburns. But he had not changed, he was sdll David, her David. Yet they were strangers. He was saying, "I'm very sorry about your mother." And she heard herself replying, "Thank you, David." As though they were reciting lines from a play. "I have to talk to you. Can you meet me tonight?" There was an urgent pleading in his voice. She thought of Ae last time they had been together and of the hunger in him then and the promise and the dreams. She said, "All right, David." "The lake? Do you have a car?" She nodded. "I'll meet you there in an hour."

Qssy was standing in front of a mirror, naked, getting ready to dress for a dinner party when David arrived home. He walked into her bedroom and stood there watching her. He could judge his wife with complete dispassion, for he felt no emotion whatsoever toward her. She was beautiful. Cissy had taken care of her body, keeping it in shape with diet and exercise. It was her primary asset and David had reason to believe that she was liberal in sharing it with others, her golf coach, her ski teacher, her flight instructor. But David could

not blame her. It had been a long time since he had gone to bed with Cissy. In the beginning, he had really believed that she would give him a divorce when Mama Kenyon died. But David's mother was still alive and flourishing. David had no way of knowing whether he had been tricked or whether a miracle had taken place. A year after their marriage, David had said to Cissy, "I think it's time we talked about that divorce." Qssy had said, "What divorce?" And when she saw the astonished, look on his face she laughed. "I like being Mrs. David Kenyon, darling. Did you really think I was going to give you up for that little Polish whore?" He had slapped her. The following day he had gone to see his attorney. When David was finished talking, the attorney said, "I can get you the divorce. But if Qssy is set on hanging on to you, David, it's going to be bloody expensive." "Get it." When Cissy had been served the divorce papers, she had locked herself in David's bathroom and had swallowed an overdose of sleeping pills. It had taken David and two servants to smash the heavy door. Cissy had hovered on the brink of death for two days. David had visited her in the private hospital where she had been taken. "I'm sorry, David," she had said. "I don't want to live without you. It's as simple as that." The following morning, he had dropped the divorce suit.

That had been almost ten years ago, and David's marriage had become an uneasy truce. He had completely taken over the Kenyon empire and he devoted all of his energies to running it. He found physical solace in the strings of girls he kept in the various dties around the world to which his business carried him. But he had never forgotten Josephine. David had no idea how she felt about him. He wanted to know, and yet he was afraid to find out. She had every reason to hate him. When he had heard the news about Josephine's mother, David had gone to the funeral parlor just to look at Josephine. The moment he saw her, he knew that nothing had

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changed. Not for him. The years had been swept away in an instant, and he was as much in love with her as ever. / have to talk to you... meet me tonight. All right, David.... The lake.

Cissy turned around as she saw David watching her in die pier glass. "You'd better hurry and change, David. We'll be late." "I'm going to meet Josephine. If she'll have me, I'm going to marry her. I think it's time this farce ended, don't you?" She stood there, staring at David, her naked image reflected in the mirror. "Let me get dressed," she said. David nodded and left the room. He walked into the large drawing room, pacing up and down, preparing for the confrontation. Surely after all these years. Cissy would not want to hang onto a marriage that was a hollow shell. He would give her anything she -- He heard the sound of Cissy's car starting and then the scream of ores as it careened down the driveway. David raced to the front door and looked out. Cissy's Maserati was racing toward the highway. Quickly, David got into his car, started the engine and gunned down the driveway after Cissy. As he reached the highway, her car was just disappearing in the distance. He stepped down hard on the accelerator. The Maserari was a faster car than David's Rolls. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal: 70 ... 80... 90. Her car was no longer in sight. xoo... no ... still no sign of her. I He reached the top of a small rise, and there he saw the (car, like a distant toy, careening around a curve. The torque was pulling the car to one side, the tires fighting to hold their traction on the road. The Maserati swayed back and forth, yawing across the highway. Then it leveled off and made it Ethe curve. And suddenly the car hit tfae shoulder of the and shot into the air like a catapult and rolled over and across the fields. David pulled Cissy's unconscious body out of the car moments before the ruptured gas tank exploded. It was six o'clock the next morning before the chief surgeon came out of the operating room and said to David, "She's going to live."

Jill arrived at the lake just before sunset. She drove to the edge of the water. Turning off the motor, she gave herself up to the sounds of the wind and the air. / don't know when I've ever been so happy, she thought. And then she corrected herself. Yes, I do. Here. With David. And she remembered how his body had felt on hers and she grew faint with wanting. Whatever had spoiled their happiness was over. She had felt it the moment she had seen David. He was still in love with her. She knew it. She watched the blood-red sun slowly drown, in the distant water, and darkness fell. She wished that David would hurry. An hour passed, then two, and the air became chilled. She sat in the car, still and quiet. She watched the huge dead-white moon float into the sky. She listened to the night sounds all around her and she said to herself, David is coming. Jill sat there all night and, in the morning, when the sun began to stain the horizon, she started the car and drove home to Hollywood.

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Jill sat in front of her dressing table and studied her face in the mirror. She saw a barely perceptible wrinkle at the corner of her eye and frowned. It's unfair, she thought. A man can completely let himself go. He can have gray hair, a potbelly and a face like a road map, and no one thinks anything of it. But let a woman get one tiny wrinkle... She began to apply her makeup. Bob Schiffer, Hollywood's top makeup artist, had taught her some of his techniques. Jill put on a pan-stick base instead of the powder base that she had once used. Powder dried the skin, while the pan-stick kept it moist. Next, she concentrated on her eyes, the makeup under her lower lids three or four shades lighter than her other makeup, so that the shadows were softened. She rubbed in a small amount of eye shadow to give her eyes more color, then carefully applied false eyelashes over her own lashes, tilting them at the outer edges at 'a forty-five-degree angle. She brushed some Duo adhesive on her own outer lashes and joined them with the false lashes, making the eyes look larger. To give the lashes a fuller look, she drew fine dots on her lower eyelid beneath her own lashes. After that, Jill applied her lipstick, then powdered her lips before applying a second coat of lipj stick. She applied a blusher to her cheeks and dusted her face [with powder, avoiding the areas around the eyes where the [! powder would accentuate the faint wrinkles. Jill sat back in her chair and studied the effect in the mirror. She looked beautiful. Someday, she would have to resort to the tape trick, but thank God that was still years away. Jill knew of older actresses who used the trick. They fastened tiny pieces of Scotch tape to their skin just below the hairline. Attached to these tapes were threads which they tied around their heads and concealed beneath their hair. The result was to pull the slackened skin of their faces taut, giving the effect of a face lift without the expense and pain of surgery. A variation was also used to disguise their sagging breasts. A piece of tape attached to the breast on one end and to the firmer flesh higher on the chest on the other provided a simple temporary solution to the problem. Jill's breasts were still firm. She finished combing her soft, black hair, took one final look in the mirror, glanced at her watch and realized that she would have to hurry. She had an interview for "The Toby Temple Show".

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Eddie Berrigan, the casting director for Toby's show, was a married man. He had made arrangements to use a friend's apartment three afternoons a week. One of the afteroons was reserved for Berrigan's mistress and the other two afternoons were reserved for what he called "old talent" and "new talent". Jill Castle was new talent. Several buddies had told Eddie that Jill gave a fantastic "trip around the world" and wonderful head. Eddie had been eager to try her. Now, a part in a sketch had come up that was right for her. All the character had to do was look sexy, say a few lines and exit. Jill read for Eddie and he was satisfied. She was no Kate Hepbum, but the role didn't call for one. "You're in," he said. "Thank you, Eddie." "Here's your script. Rehearsal starts tomorrow morning, ten o'clock sharp. Be on time, and know your lines." "Of course." She waited. "Er -- how about meeting me this afternoon for a cup of coffee?" | Jfflnodded. | "A friend of mine has an apartment at ninety-five thirteen ; Argyle. The Allerton." "I know where it is," Jill said. : "Apartment Six D. Three o'clock." show. That week's talent included a spectacular dance team from Argentina, a popular rock and roll group, a magician who made everything in sight disappear and a top vocalist. The only one missing was Toby Temple. Jill asked Eddie Berrigan about Toby's absence. "Is he sick?" Eddie snorted. "He's sick like a fox. The peasants rehearse while old Toby has himself a ball. He'll show up Saturday to tape the show, and then split."