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Chapter Three

The sight of the movie set scared the hell out of her. Kelly had never been into any studio complex, let alone an X-rated one. As she arrived on the set she was so overwhelmed by panic, the only thing she could hear was the sound of her pounding heartbeat. Kelly trudged to a chair and sank into it, feeling numb.
I can’t do this. This is crazy. Nicolla is right. I’m sexually retarded. I’m horrible in bed, so what makes me think I can do this in front of the camera
?

“Miss Evers.”

Kelly jumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman apologised. She was small, black-haired and dressed in a conservative manner. She looked almost too young to be working in a porn factory. Her nametag declared she was the assistant director and she was called Fitch. “Mr Strickland wanted to see you on the set.”

“Who’s Strickland?”

Fitch looked at her with wonder.

“You know, the darnedest thing is”—Kelly mimicked Nicolla’s accent and hand gestures—“I had a wild party last night and this morning I woke up and can’t remember s-shit.” The curse word left a bad taste in her mouth. Kelly disliked profanities. Not because she’d been raised as a proper woman, but because she personally believed cursing was also demeaning to the person she was speaking to.

Fitch seemed take no offence. “Mr Strickland is your manager, miss. Our boss. He owns this studio.”

“Right,” Kelly slurred, pretending she was drunk. “And what movie am I supposed to shoot this afternoon?”

“
Fashionista
. It’s a feature film, our biggest budgeted project this year.”

“Right. What does Strickland want with me?”

Fitch shoved a stack of hard copies in her hands. “This is your script. All printed on paper, just the way you like them. Mr Strickland wanted to make sure you remember your lines. We’re far behind our schedule because you kept forgetting your dialogue yesterday.”

Kelly skimmed the script. “Geez. They require a script just to make a stupid X-rated movie?”

Fitch gave her a funny look again. She probably thought Kelly was completely out of her mind. “Of course. It’s a feature film.”

“So you’re saying there are unscripted ones?”

“It’s called gonzo. You starred in seventy-five gonzos before you made your first feature. How could you forget that?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not. You really need to see a doctor about your…amnesia problem, Miss Evers. It seems to be getting worse.”

Kelly blinked. If Fitch was her assistant at the firm, she would fire her on the spot for making such a remark, but then again, maybe Nicolla Evers was so screwy that someone like Fitch had to point out the obvious. She resisted an urge to counter her smarminess, and instead, she followed Fitch to Strickland’s office through a labyrinth of individual movie sets. People bustled around them, men with cables and props, and actresses being primped by makeup artists.

Fitch herded her away from the cacophonous chaos into a private, enclosed set. It looked like an office with tasteful furniture and neutral colour coordinates. The crews were busy with the lighting when Kelly got in. Everybody paused what they were doing, looking in her direction. She froze in her tracks. Cold panic seized her.
God, I really can’t do this
.

“Nicolla.” A middle-aged man with a stern face and a curt voice snapped her out of her frozen fear. Fitch addressed him as Mr Strickland. He was an elegant man, dressed in a designer suit and expensive jewellery, reflecting his taste in high fashion. He wasn’t the man Kelly had expected him to be. And both Fitch and Strickland were Normies, surprising her, since most people who worked in District One were usually Misfits.

“How are you this morning?” Strickland enquired with a casual tone. “Are you fit for work?”

Kelly shrugged. “Kind of.”

Strickland’s eyes cut to the sheaf of scripts in Kelly’s hand. “Did you memorise your lines?”

“This?” Hell, she’d just got it a minute ago. Kelly shook her head. “Not really. I was busy.”

“Busy partying?”

“Kind of.” Kelly tried imitating Nicolla’s body language.

Strickland jabbed a finger at her shoulder, his voice lowering to a growl, but the message was clear—he was pissed off. “When I come back from Newport, we’re going to have a long talk about your spoilt behaviour, Nicolla. This has been going on long enough. Your shenanigans cost me money.” He snapped his fingers at a tall man in a red flannel shirt. The man dropped what he was doing and came by. It turned out he was the director of the movie. “Our Nicky here has her usual problem this morning. Skip scene four and go straight to the insertion shot today.” Strickland turned to Fitch. “After the shoot, escort her home and make sure she stays sober to work tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” both Fitch and the director said at the same time.

Strickland leant forward, close enough that Kelly could smell the nauseating stench of cigars. “I’m very disappointed in you, Nicolla.”

Kelly blinked. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Should she act scared? Defiant? What would the real Nicolla do? Maybe she should give her a call later today to synch up a lot of matters.

Strickland threw her another displeased look and stalked away. Judging from the way people around him cowered, Kelly had a pretty good idea she should be careful with Strickland. She wasn’t afraid of him. She’d seen his type enough during her career. She could handle them, both professionally and personally.

The director stared at her, deadpan. “Well, you’ve outdone yourself today, Miss Evers. Are you ready to work now?”

“What’s an insertion shot?”

The director turned to Fitch. He looked pissed off too. “She’s fucking kidding me, right?”

Fitch massaged her temples, choosing not to answer.

* * * *

Kelly found out about the mystery behind the insertion shot about half an hour later, after the man who was responsible for her makeup had released her from his scrutiny. Fitch herded her onto the set. Kelly guessed that she had to perform the sex act on the office desk.

She saw Tyler in there with his twin brother, Gunnar. Both were naked and their magnificent erections jutted from their crotches. For a moment, she couldn’t distinguish between the two until one of them kissed her on the lips and whispered, “Love.” He was Tyler—she recognised his voice.

Gunnar was stroking his cock, working himself up into a turgid state. He gave her a secret smile and a wink. Kelly cringed, feeling uncomfortable. They were naked and about to perform the most sacred form of human intimacy, and yet people around them seemed to treat it like it was no big problem. Especially the still nameless director.

He clapped, demanding people’s attention. “For this shot, Miss Evers should lie supine on the desk, you—Tyler—take one of her legs up and penetrate her from this angle. After we get that nicely going, Gunnar, give her a rim job and fuck her ass. Spread it around about five to ten minutes, and let’s see how we’re doing. If we’re lucky, we only need one take, and we’ll able to finish three scenes ahead today. Any questions?”

Kelly wanted to crawl under the table and die. This was so embarrassing. How could someone do this job for a living? She counted about eleven people staring at them with their cameras, microphones and lighting, attending to the director’s orientation. Her knees weakened again, and she would have fallen if she wasn’t leaning against the desk and holding on to the ledge.

“Honey, are you okay?” Gunnar looked worried. His voice was deeper than his brother’s, throatier. Her excited inner cat purred at the presence of another Bengal. “You look pale.”

“Our Nicky has been unusually quiet since last night,” Tyler answered.

Our Nicky
? Kelly wondered. What exactly was the relationship between Nicolla and these two studs? Did she date them both? At the same time? Outrageous!

The director took one good look at her and dismissed her as only being cranky. “Miss Evers looks fine to me. We should start. Now.”

The crew moved, taking their positions. Fitch wanted Kelly to take off her robe. She obeyed half-heartedly. She was mortified being naked in front of so many people. “Don’t worry, love,” Tyler comforted her. He had a bottle of lubricant in his hand. “We’ll make it fun.”

“Super extra fun until you’ve creamed,” Gunnar added.

“I’ve what?” Alarmed, Kelly stared at them both.

Gunnar exchanged a glance with Tyler. “Why is she still playing her amnesia game?”

“She’s just unwell. Give her a break.” Tyler lifted her off the floor and spread her on the desk. The lighting person and the cameraman stepped closer.

“You got a good woody there, Ty?” the director wanted to know.

Tyler stroked his cock several times. “Yeah.”

“We’ll start in two.”

Kelly’s heart hammered inside her rib cage. She wanted to take back what she’d said to Nicolla earlier. She couldn’t do her job. Her face was boiling with shame as Tyler pushed her legs apart and squeezed lubricant on her pussy. Cool gel trailed on her sex. The lighting person had moved even closer and shone his apparatus so the cameraman could get nice, clear footage of her genitals. She shut her eyes. No, she couldn’t do this. All her life, she’d always felt insecure about her own sexuality. She rarely inspected how her pussy looked, and now she was being proffered like a piece of perverted offering so everyone could see her deepest, most intimate secret out in the open. No. This wasn’t right. She wouldn’t do this, ever.

Kelly wrenched free from Tyler’s grip, scrambling down. “I can’t do it.”

“What the fuck are you up to now, Miss Evers?” the director yelled from his chair.

“I can’t work today. I need to go home.” Kelly dashed into the dressing room. Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t see straight. The makeup artist was startled to see her storm in, but he didn’t dare squeak a word. Kelly grabbed her clothes to get dressed when Tyler and Gunnar followed her in.

“Nick, what’s wrong?” Tyler asked.

Kelly quickly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m not feeling well. That’s all.”

Gunnar grabbed a towel to cover his nakedness, studying her as if he’d just realised something. “You’re not feeling well. I think there’s something off about you.” He turned to his brother. “Noticed anything? I haven’t heard her swearing today.”

Kelly was alarmed. She had to get out of this place now. If both Tyler and Gunnar were Nicolla’s lovers, they might suspect something. She couldn’t play this charade too long. “I’m just…feeling crappy lately, okay? Leave me alone.”

The director stormed in. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going home.” Kelly slipped on her dress and grabbed her shoes.

“We have a movie to shoot.”

“Not today. I’m out of here.”

The director fumed. “Mr Strickland will hear about this!”

“I’m scared,” she replied in a bland tone. “Very, very scared.”

He stormed out, slamming the door with vehemence. Gunnar shook his head at her. “That’s not good, babe.”

“Should I worry?”

“You should.”

Kelly sighed. “I’m leaving.”

Tyler caught her arm. “Wait, kitten. Give me five minutes. Let me get dressed and I’ll drive you home.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Five minutes, and that’s final.”