Heller’s Decision (10 page)

As
Seductively Sextravagant
was being held at the city’s enormous conference
centre, parking wasn’t an issue for us. Bick guided the 4WD into
one of the priority parking spots reserved for VIPs. An
enthusiastic, and slightly sleazy, event publicist rushed forward
gushing on spotting us arrive, his beady eyes firmly fixed on
Barb’s unnatural assets.

“
Such an honour to have you join us, Mr
Harder and Ms Biggen. Such an honour!” he effused, introducing
himself as Garrett, proclaiming himself to be their ‘number one
fan’. They took his extravagant brown-nosing with good humour,
responding to him nicely. In return he appeared pleasantly
surprised to not have a couple of tempestuous and demanding prima
donnas on his hands.

Ushering us inside, he gave us a quick
rundown of their program. They had two shows daily. In the morning
they’d give a narrated presentation of their hand-picked favourite
scenes from their numerous XXX-rated movies. In the afternoon
they’d host a general Q&A about the attributes of a successful
adult entertainment star and the perils and benefits of being
married in that particular industry. The rest of the day they would
spend in their own booth, flogging subscriptions to their website
or their HUMP Productions DVDs, every copy sold being personally
autographed by them. I noticed Bick, wallet out, furtively counting
his cash.

I’d never been to a
Seductively Sextravagant
before and was wide-eyed with
interest as we strode through the conference centre to the HUMP
Productions booth. The doors had opened fifteen minutes previously
while Garrett explained the program and the expo was in full swing,
the crowd unexpectedly immense. There were hundreds of booths set
up in the great hall, selling or advertising everything remotely
related to sex – lingerie, DVDs, sex toys, sex aids, sex
therapists, legal brothels, gentlemen’s clubs, porn websites. The
local chapter of the Biggen Harder action group, HUMP, had a booth,
as did the Department of Health and several community groups
devoted to the counselling of, or advocating for the rights of, sex
workers.

A battalion of
‘hostesses’ milled around, giving directions and
offering general assistance, ample boobs and bums showcased in the
skimpy black lingerie they wore. Acres of flesh and makeup were on
display and I felt simultaneously overdressed and underdressed in
my casual jeans, buttoned shirt, jacket and boots. Not even in my
direst financial situation, when I was down to my last dollar
before I started working for Heller, would I have contemplated a
job as a hostess at
Seductively Sextravagant
. Although to be honest, the workload didn’t look too
onerous, though perhaps a little chilly. It was probably an easy
way to earn a day’s pay.

Bick,
like most men would be in the same circumstances (and were,
I judged from a quick glance around), was in seventh heaven
surrounded by such lovelies. His eyes darted here and there,
overwhelmed by all the stimulation and letting himself be
distracted from his job of protecting his clients.

I nudged him in the side as we
strolled
. “Mind back on
the job, Bick,” I reminded him, instantly distracted myself by a
booth we strolled past displaying gigantic, every-coloured dildos.
I wanted to stop to have a closer look as some of them appeared
incredibly huge from where I was standing, bigger than Heller even.
I was particularly interested in an enormous dark purple one that
disturbingly looked as though it had been slowly throttled to
death.

Bick flushed
at my gentle reminder and applied himself to his
duty again, probably hoping I wouldn’t go running after hours to
Heller, telling tales. Though it still upset me when the men
thought that, I’d virtually given up trying to defend myself over
those types of assumptions. None of the men seemed willing to
listen or acknowledge that, as the person who received the bulk of
Heller’s admonishments for my work, I’d be the last person to
snitch on anyone else.

As we approached the HUMP Productions
booth, we struck the fans and groupies and soon Roger and Barb were
swamped by a mob of well-wishers and those wanting to check out
their favourite stars’ bodies in person. Despite the fact I wasn’t
there for security purposes, my training kicked in and I draped my
arm loosely around Barb to keep her from anyone too
over-enthusiastic. Bick looked after Roger, trying to balance
giving the pair time to sign some autographs and say a few kind
words to keep their fans happy, and ushering them safely inside the
private booth.

Unlike
most of the other booths, theirs was a rather large tent,
fully enclosed. Visitors to the expo were expected to queue
patiently outside for their turn to enter the booth and wander past
the merchandise for sale to where Barb and Roger would sit in a
corner, ready to sign more autographs. A staff member employed by
the centre was on hand at a makeshift counter to accept cold hard
cash – or credit – for newly purchased DVDs, and to process
subscriptions to their website.

A
couple of thick-necked uniformed dudes stood at the front
of the booth – security hired specifically by the organisers for
crowd control. Their eyes lingered on Bick’s
Heller’s
uniform with ill-concealed jealousy. A lot
of security staff would love to work at
Heller’s
as he had a reputation across the city for being a
hard, but fair, boss with his men, and the working conditions he
offered were generally considered to be more generous than other
security firms. As he offered top-level security services, he only
employed top-level staff and was rather picky in recruitment.
Consequently, he didn’t have the regular churn of staff that the
other security businesses did. Knowing all that made me marvel
again that I’d ever landed a job with him in the first
place.
Not
that I’d managed to keep it
, I reminded myself wryly. When he’d interviewed me, I’d no
obvious talents, except for two, which Heller adamantly insisted
were not the reason he’d employed me, though I had my doubts as he
seemed to find them an endless source of pleasure.

We made it inside the booth tent with no
incident, all of us exhaling in relief. Bick stayed near the entry,
deterring people from gatecrashing by his sheer size alone. With
the help of the conference centre staff member, the cash register
was speedily set up, the merchandise displayed, a looping DVD
presentation started on the big screen TV, and the booth was open
for business.

A
steady stream of customers flowed in throughout the
morning, all of them well-behaved, loyal fans who goggled at the
thought of being so close to two people who’d given them so much
entertainment, inspiration and . . . er, relief.

I plonked myself on
a chair near them and took out my
notebook, jotting down dotpoints of what I’d observed and been told
so far, particularly my impressions of the customers. Trent always
appreciated lots of background on his interview subjects so he
could pick interesting, or even controversial, questions to ask. It
was an easy morning’s work, Bick standing inside the booth to keep
an eye on things in there, while the thick-necks did a good job
keeping trouble-makers at bay and the queue orderly. Barb
remembered to thank them both very prettily at the end of the
signing session. The two men puffed up with
self-importance.

“
No problem, Miss Biggen. That’s our job,”
the shorter and uglier of the two stuttered. “I’m a huge fan. Seen
everything you’ve made.”

“
Oh, how sweet,” Barb purred. I was amazed
at how she was able to turn her erotic persona on and off at will.
“Remind me to sign something for you later.”

“
I will! I will. Thank you, Miss Biggen.
Thank you,” he splutte
red, grinning from ear to ear. I smiled to myself. I’d seen
it happen a few times now with different celebrities, including
Trent, but I thought again about how special they can make a fan
feel just by taking the effort to spend a few minutes with them and
spare a couple of niceties.

The
thick-heads also proved to be efficient when closing down
the queue, letting the disappointed people still in line know that
Barb and Roger would be back later in the day for more signings.
Right now though, they were due at the auditorium for their
presentation of their favourite scenes from their own back
collection. Remembering the trauma Daniel and I’d suffered from the
door-to-door survey lady movie, I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy this
session or not, though Bick carried a barely suppressed air of
excitement giving every indication he certainly would be making the
most of it.

It wasn’t too bad in the end though,
because Barb and Roger brought a lot of humour to their
explanations of why they’d chosen those particular scenes. They
even good-naturedly showed a few embarrassing bloopers at the end,
bringing the crowd, including Bick and me, to tears of laughter at
their forgotten lines and mistimed ‘releases’. I still found it
rather disconcerting however to be watching them perform very
intimate acts on each other and others on a giant screen, watched
enthusiastically by a crowd. But they didn’t seem bothered at all
when they flashed up on the screen in the buff, larger than
life.

As time quickly ran out, they declined to
answer any questions, instead nicely reminding people about their
afternoon Q&A session. Bick rushed them back to the booth for a
refreshment break, including a hurried lunch, before re-opening to
more eager fans for another couple of hours of signing. I trailed
after the trio when Bick escorted them back to the auditorium for
their open Q&A session, another free event. There were some
very personal questions thrown up by the audience, which Roger and
Barb answered as honestly as they could. They admitted that, yes,
it could sometimes be difficult watching your spouse screwing
another person, and that filming vigorous sex scenes all day could
definitely spoil a romantic mood at home.

“
But it all comes down to trust,” said
Roger, throwing a loving glance at Barb and clasping her hand. She
returned an equally loving glance. “She trusts me and I trust her,
even when we’re not working together. We don’t consider each other
to be unfaithful when we have sex with other people for a movie.
It’s our job, after all. We try to maintain our professionalism
about it at all times. In any case, a couple’s marriage is always
about more than just the sex. Sure, we have sex with other people
as part of our job, but the caring, love, romance and companionship
we share as part of our marriage, remains ours alone.” And that
should have come out as soppy, but it was said in such a heartfelt
and affectionate way that every woman in the audience, and there
were a surprising number of them, melted, including me.

After a
few more questions, mostly about Roger’s legendary
staying power, which he hotly insisted was a natural talent not a
drug-enhanced one, Bick escorted them back to the booth for the
final session of autographing for the day. We patiently waited out
the rest of the afternoon, Barb and Roger not showing any signs of
fading or losing their enthusiasm for greeting their fans and
signing autographs. I guess the sound of the cash register busy at
the other end boosted their spirits.

Eventually though, closing time
encroached, booths started shutting down for the day and visitors
drifted away. I shut down my electronic tablet, where I’d been
checking my emails, following up a few other stories for Trent and
giving him a progress update. Although it was Saturday, I knew he’d
spend at least some time online working while dashing between
celebrity functions, a new woman on his arm each time. I didn’t
want him to think I was slacking off on duty.

With
the booth secured for the night, we briskly walked through
the rapidly emptying convention centre, all the customers finally
shooed out by security and the booth owners packed up for the
night. As we neared the entrance, a trio of menacing, dark-suited
men, looking for all the world like cheap movie gangsters, stood
with intimidating postures in front of another booth located in a
prime position near the door. A very flashy sign announced the
booth as belonging to PRON Productions. Tension crackled as soon as
the men set eyes on Roger and Barb and they eyeballed us coldly as
we walked past, dark mutterings distinctly audible, but not
distinguishable.

Roger
stopped, his nostrils flaring with temper. He took a step
towards the men before Bick pushed him back with a gentle arm,
stepping in front of him as a shield.

“
Do you have a problem, gentlemen?” he
enquired politely of the lounging group.

“
Not with you, pretty boy,” sneered their
biggest man. “Just with the company you’re keeping.”

“
Maybe you should keep your opinions to
yourself,” Bick suggested, still impeccably polite. One of the
first things anyone learnt as a security officer was how important
their own tone was to the potential defusing of a situation. If
security went in aggressively from the start, it would often do
nothing but inflame matters and make a peaceful resolution less
likely.

“Everyone’s entitled to an opinion,” said the
big man tonelessly.