Debutante (8 page)

Marion tapped Paul on his shoulder.

Camera two moved in for the money shot.

Kara threw her head back. ‘Yes! Yes! Fuck!'

Gary slowed a little more, thrusting at an even, medium pace.

Kara ground her ass against his crotch at the end of each stroke. She pounded the sofa with her fists. Tears flowed. Her mouth hung open, loose and wet, as her shrieks dropped to moans and her moans to little peeps of pleasure.

‘OK, baby?' Gary stroked her back.

Kara nodded.

‘OK, baby!' Gary thrust hard and fast, three times, then gripped her hips with both hands and roared.

Money shot, money shot
…

Gary jerked his cock from Kara's ass and slapped it onto her back where it pulsed, spewing cream with each one.

‘I … I love you, Mrs Bottomsby,' he said.

His cock slid off her back and drooped between his legs. He pressed his chest to her back. He licked the sweat from the right side of her neck.

Kara turned her head. ‘I love you too, Mr Bottomsby,' she said.

They kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed.

‘Cut,' said Luke.

The cameras stopped filming; the sound stopped rolling.

Kara and Gary stopped kissing.

Marion stepped forwards. ‘Kara, are you … are you OK?'

Kara frowned.

‘Yeah,' said Luke. ‘Because you did say you didn't want to do anything too kinky. So, I mean, I know you knew what the script was about but if you weren't comfortable I need you to let me know right now and I'll make sure it never happens again.'

Kara and Gary collapsed on the sullied wedding dress, laughing like idiots.

Kara managed to sputter, ‘Luke, honey, anal sex doesn't count as kinky.' She wiped her face on Gary's chest hair. ‘Gary and I fuck like that all the time!'

Emily remained standing on the bus while Luke and Tony took seats. It wasn't a case of them not offering her a free seat. Em was wearing a white summer power suit made of one hundred per cent linen, a ‘stand-up' suit. She'd sit when they got to the meeting. She glanced down at her platform peep-toe sandals. There was that toe cleavage Luke had taught her about. Her legs were white; she hadn't been willing to risk a fake tan and lounging in the sun was not on the cards for this particular summer. Still, pale though they may be, they were long and her ankles were, or so she'd been told, delicate. A light pink cami, in keeping with the season's mania for pastels, completed her look. She wore very little make-up. It was the paradox of sexy and lovely that she wanted to sell so she'd decided to start making the point the moment she entered the meeting.

Essentially, it was vital that Tony's uncle, Vito Manero, buy their set of six short porn movies. Em could only hope Tony really was on their side and hadn't told his uncle how desperately the fledgling porn company needed money. They could shoot as many sexy little movies as they wanted and it would do them no good without distribution.

It was the last Friday in July. Only Luke remained in school, learning how to shoot sixty-second commercials and sports events during the day and directing NAIL
short porn flicks at night.

A few of the cast and crew had left when the school year ended, but Luke and his roommates had stayed in their big house close to the campus. They always did, since they had to pay rent on their rooms during the summer months anyway, or lose them. This summer, however, most of them worked full-time for NAIL, instead of finding secure jobs. Even those who'd left had been asked to return on 1st August for a blitz of production before the first semester of their final year commenced. So everyone involved with NAIL was making a leap of faith and Emily was fully, achingly aware of the risk.

Emily waitressed at Bailey's
six nights a week. She worked on NAIL six days a week. True to his word, Blaine had handed Emily a shell company his father had given him and Emily had completed the tedious work of turning it into a film production company. Naked And In Love Productions Limited
still needed a proper logo, but the company was established and registered.

On Sundays, she and Luke were supposed to forget about everything and spend the day together, but it was getting more and more difficult to turn it off and she knew Luke felt the same.

Sometimes they simply slept all day and shared a simple dinner. Other times they actually managed to make love. No matter how hard Em laid down the law, her apartment was always a disaster so part of the day had to be spent doing housework, which she, in particular, resented. Bad enough she only had three uniforms for a six night a week gig, making laundry and ironing a must. She didn't think she should have to mop up after her crew like a janitor. However, since most of them were receiving what amounted to an allowance for their constant hard work, none seemed willing to don the janitor's cap, either.

Most Sundays, if they had time, Luke and Em went for a walk and talked business. It couldn't be helped. Their future and the futures of their friends weighed heavily on them both.

Tony stood. Emily picked up her soft leather briefcase and she and Luke followed him off the bus. They walked in silence. It was a newly developed area, mainly industrial strip plazas, monotonous red brick. The one they wanted was mainly two storey, with five-storey ‘one tenant' buildings at each corner. Manero Triple X Adult Film
Distribution was one of them. Five floors in a new plaza? Business had to be good.

They entered, single file, Emily and her briefcase, which contained six half-hour NAIL Productions Ltd films of varying degrees of quality, in the middle.

Why did she feel like a criminal? There was nothing illegal going on here. Even the revolting pseudo-rape anal sex tape was a performance by consenting adults.

She dredged up the memory of an interview Sir Laurence Olivier had done. He and the series he'd done the interview for were old but his words rang as true as ever. In answer to a complicated question by the understandably nervous young interviewer, Sir Larry had leaned back and replied, in that marvellous drawl he often employed for emphasis, ‘It's called
acting
, dear boy.'

They were greeted by a receptionist with a Brooklyn accent. Right. Tony had mentioned her. Naturally, Manero had an office in New York and where he went his executive assistant went with him.

‘Welcome to Manero Triple X Adult Film Distribution,' said the woman, largely through her perfect nose.
Nose job
. Christ. Emily was driving herself insane. She'd had a nose job, too. Although hers was, at least in part, because of a deviated septum …

The shit stops here.

With Olivier's words ringing in her ears, she tilted up her chin, squared her shoulders, and became Ms Emily Forrester, Executive Producer of NAIL.

‘Good afternoon –' she glanced at the name plate on the woman's desk, although Tony had already told her what it was ‘– Melody. We're from NAIL Productions Limited. Emily Forrester and Luke Rayellton. I think you already know –'

‘Tony, my baby!' Melody leaped to her feet. Her bosom was magnificent, but not overtly displayed. Emily decided not to hold it against her. As far as she could tell, those tits were the real thing. Melody tottered in stilettos and a pencil skirt around her desk to capture Tony in an effusive embrace that made Bobby's Brazilian greeting seem standoffish in comparison.

Tony grinned at Emily and Luke over Melody's shoulder. His eyebrows lifted as if to say,
What can I do but accept it?

After what seemed an appropriate amount of time had passed, Emily cleared her throat. ‘We have an appointment with Mr Manero for three o'clock?'

‘Right. Right!' Melody released Tony. He straightened himself and took a deep breath, with the grin of a village idiot plastered on his face.

‘Walk this way,' said Melody. She opened a door and minced through it.

Tony did the same, right down to the mince.

Luke grinned.

‘Don't think I don't know what your doin', Tony,' said Melody. ‘You're not so big I can't put you over my knee.'

‘Promises, promises.' Tony sighed.

Luke laughed.

Emily was already looking past them, at the man behind the desk; the man who held all of their futures in his hands.

Make this happen.

She kept her eyes locked on Vito Manero while Melody presented him with his nephew and ‘friends'.

Manero gave Tony a hug and Luke a handshake but his eyes were locked on Emily's, too.

‘Emily Forrester, Executive Producer of Naked And In Love Productions Limited.'

‘Vito Manero of Manero Triple X Adult Film Distribution. Everybody, take a seat!'

They did, with Emily furthest to the right, putting her as close to the man in the power seat as possible. She flipped open the top of her case and crossed her ankles. Mr Manero was nothing like she'd expected. She tried to avoid stereotyping but, in his case, she'd failed. He sold porn, for goodness' sake! He had no business having freshly coifed iron-grey hair, aquiline features and a broad-shouldered trim body. He wasn't even wearing pastel polyester, as she'd imagined. His Armani suit was charcoal barathea and his Sulka tie matched, but with narrow stripes of dove grey.

After declining coffee and tea and accepting bottled water, the three representatives of the neophyte film company received a short, solid education in the business of porn production.

When he stressed ‘legality', Emily placed the NAIL Productions Ltd information on his desk. When he stressed ‘clean and adult' actors she placed the sheaf of head shots and accompanying information of her cast beside the paperwork on NAIL.

So far, so good.

Once Melody delivered the bottled water and the three students had cracked them open (with only Tony spilling onto his cords) Manero put his hands on his desk, palms up, and said, ‘So, what can we do for each other, business-wise?'

Emily began with their most romantic short, the third and last in the series starring Tony and Aileen. She flipped through the discs in her briefcase until she found
Young Love, III
. In it, Tony, now an accomplished lover, brings his demanding but unfaithful girlfriend, Aileen, to a climax so stupendous that she declares her fidelity for evermore.

She rose, smoothing her linen skirt, and walked to the DVD player. If there was a wiggle to her walk that wasn't always there, well, her business shoes had platform heels and Manero's floors were polished to a gloss. She could hardly afford to fall on her face now, could she?

She bent, turned on the TV and DVD player, inserted the disc, and returned to her seat with the remote in hand. She tossed it into Luke's lap and leaned forwards, palms flat, onto Manero's desk. She and Manero were face to face.

‘Let's see,' she cooed. She jerked her head at Luke. He hit the remote.

Emily took a slug of water from her bottle and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
Too much?

Manero seemed mesmerised.

Em took her seat and turned her eyes to the monitor. She'd made the wrong choice, obviously, but it was too late to change her mind. The
Young Love
trilogy
was so damned romantic
,
a celebration of Eros. This man's mind had to be saturated with porn. He'd hate it, for sure, because it was so ‘vanilla'. She should have started with something powerful, like the honeymoon anal-fuck film.

Vito was intent on the screen, deadpan. Being polite, of course. Watching the entire movie because his nephew was involved.

She crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. As she watched, she licked her lips from time to time and tilted her water bottle to her mouth, wriggled in her seat and in general gave Manero such a show she'd be damned if he wasn't as hard as the stupid miniature cannon that squatted on his desk.
Ready, set, fire, Manero.
As the piece grew to a close, with the couple declaring their love all over again, at a feverish pitch, she allowed a tear to slide down the side of her cheek. As if embarrassed, she swiped it away, making sure Manero caught all of it.

Whore.

Emily gave him her most angelic smile. Her grey eyes were misted with emotion. She tucked a flyaway strand of honey-coloured hair behind her ear. ‘Well, sir, what do you think of romance and X-rated sex now?'

‘You're good,' he said. ‘Fuck.' Manero wiped his face from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin. ‘Fuck me.

‘Your timing is perfect,' he told them. ‘You know, the readership of sex books used to be seventy per cent male, thirty per cent female. Then the internet happened. Guys like me, we churned out every sort of erotic movie a man could dream of and men, being more visual than women, stopped reading and started watching. Now, the per cents are reversed when it comes to reading porn. It's seventy per cent female, thirty per cent male. Fewer women watch porn movies, though they love sexy-romantic ones. They like “happily ever after” to mean more than a money shot.'

Luke and Emily exchanged glances. They'd pretty much worked all this out for themselves but they sure weren't going to interrupt Vito's lecture.

‘I've been thinking for some time, thirty per cent of our potential market isn't being serviced. I wondered how we could combine good raw sex with romance and make it work for both male and female audiences. You'd think it'd be easy, but no one has done it before. You know why?'

All three shook their heads.

‘One, most porn isn't written by writers. It's made up as it's shot. Two, in the main, porn stars can't act. They can't even deliver dialogue, and I don't mean just when their mouths are full of cock.'

Emily grinned to show that she wasn't offended by his language. If they were going to do business, in this business, cocks and pussies were merchandise that would be discussed.