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"Phew. I'm glad that set is over!"
Roy turned off the flood lights and turned to face his nude model
Samantha, who was wiping her forehead, beaded with perspiration from
the
torturously hot lights, and slipping on an embroidered Japanese tea
gown.
"Hey, don't put that on yet, honey. The night's not over with yet."
For a second he regretted that inviting statement, knowing he should
call home if not make it home before Julie got suspicious enough to
come
checking up on him. But she wouldn't do that, he reasoned, dismissing
the
thought as a wave of guilty paranoia. But his job as photographer and
director of this bombasting money-maker had a few fringe benefits, despite
the backaches, and he intended Samantha to be one of them.
He glanced over the top of the camera at her, relieved that the
shooting had gone well and a session such as the one he'd just filmed
saved a couple hundred dollars worth of money out of his own pocket.
That
was truly cause for celebration, wasn't it?
Roy pulled the plug of the extension cord from its complexity of
wires and switches and ambled over to his female model who was tying
the
cord on her robe, as with one deftly practiced motion, born of three
years
of strip-tease dancing, she flung her buttocks-length wavy hair free
of
the collar.
"Hope you don't have to be home in bed too early tonight, Samantha,"
smirked Roy. "We might want to rehearse some scenes for tomorrow's
shooting," he whispered hoarsely into her shell-like ear, weighed
taut
with the burden of her two-inch earring.
Samantha's long red nails teased a claw mark on his five-o'clock
shadow. "It could be arranged, honey, and I won't even tell the
union
about the over-time."
Shelly, the male counterpart in "The Torturous Minutes of Lust"
shot
a knowing smirk in the direction of the playful photographer and his
red-
haired model. They caught his cold accusing eye. Shelly shook a warning
finger at them and slipped his trench coat on. "Have a good time,"
he
called over his shoulder before laughing his way out the door.
* * *
Despite the recent wave of warm spring weather, the night
was cold
with high westerly winds, the kind of weather that brings in fog from
the
ocean in billowing blankets. It crawls over coastal cities, disfiguring
buildings and landscapes . . . and the moods of the people who try to
see
clear through it. Such was the night when Julie crawled behind the wheel
of her Volkswagen and headed for downtown San Francisco, toward the
Mission District where warehouses and industrial plants leave the streets
deserted at night, except for an occasional night guard and his Doberman
Pinscher body guard.
She knew it was crazy to drive down there at that awesome hour, yet
she was convinced that she was doing the right thing. The only thing
to
do under the circumstances was to go and see Roy, go out to dinner,
and
talk to him. She had to see him, otherwise nothing would make sense
at
all. He was the last stronghold of reality in a world that had suddenly
gone crazy.
It was a good twenty minutes drive from Nob Hill to the Mission
District, and a glance at her watch told her that she should make it
in
time before they all left the studio. The last thing in the world she
wanted was to be stuck down there in the complex warren of darkly shadowed
buildings with no sense of direction.
She could visualize how surprised he would be to see her. The denim
jumpsuit she was wearing was one of his favorite outfits and, even though
she'd worn it only yesterday, he never tired of it. And, despite her
tear-stained face, she'd managed to make herself look pretty good.
As she drove, she pushed the memory of Corby Lewis and of Ertha's
lewd suggestion deep into the back of her mind. The fresh air blowing
through the window helped her to forget and to think optimistically
about
the future. It was beginning to look as if her interpretation of
everything that had happened was only an exaggeration. Certainly nothing
could be as bad as she'd thought. A half an hour later, Julie pulled
up
to the intersection of Mission and 16th Streets, and she looked around
for
signs of Roy's VW van. After driving around the block three times, she
finally found it parked in a yellow zone. She parked her car behind
his
van, hoping she wouldn't get a ticket. She was just rolling up the window
and locking the doors when a black man dressed in a security guard's
uniform, a brace of dogs at his side, called out to her, wanting to
know
where she was going. As he walked closer, the guard glanced at her and
then took a second look. Julie was pleased. She needed a little
reassurance and the guard obviously thought she looked good.
"Oh, I'm going to meet my boy friend. He's rented a place down
here
to do some shooting . . . pictures, that is," she added with a
nervous
giggle. "And I've come to meet him."
"What's the address?" he wanted to know.
"Oh, it's Mission--2299 Mission. Can you help me find it?"
It was
said not out of flirtation, and the man complied out of more than
sympathy.
"You're a pretty brave girl running around these streets at night."
One of the Doberman's gave a conceding yap. Julie kept a safe three
foot
distance between her nippable legs and the dogs. As they made the corner,
the hopeful blonde walked with her head just a touch higher as she turned
away from the man, the building now in sight. She knew his eyes were
on
her, watching the sway of her hips as she made her way to the side
entrance of the warehouse.
"Should be an elevator inside, lady. Want me to wait?"
"Oh, that's okay," assured Julie. "I'm sure that something
happens,
you'll hear a scream. Besides, Roy is expecting me," she lied.
"Please . . . this isn't my territory, and somebody'll have my
ass if
they catch me off the block, but please, I can't let a pretty lady like
you go into this building alone . . . just as far as the elevator."
His
dark eyes twinkled with fatherly concern.
"Okay, thank you, thank you," Julie was delighted. The guard
opened
the old-fashioned gate and pressed the button for her. She waved through
the webbed-glass window at him, exuberant that in minutes she would
be
with Roy. There was apprehension, too, for she'd never been involved
in
his work to the degree of feeling comfortable around his models,
especially the nude ones, and for an ominous moment, she felt as if
she
were prying into his private life.
Julie got off at the third floor and pushed open the creaking iron
gate of the elevator and stepped out into a long hallway with several
closed doors lining the walls. Tip-toeing down the hallway, she peered
at
the doors that had no numbers, now totally confused and wishing that
she'd
let the guard help her find her way. At the L in the hallway, She craned
her neck to the side, waiting to hear a whisper or music, anything to
tell
her people were still in the building: certain she'd detected a faint
giggle behind the door directly to her left, she stopped and felt her
body
collide into something hard and yielding.
"Ohhh," Julie sucked in her breath and looked startle eyed
into the
face of Shelly. "My God, you scared me."
"To say nothing of what you did to me," answered the suave
actor, a
salacious smirk on his face. "Can I help you . . . are you looking
for
someone?"
Julie let her upheld fingers drop from her mouth and answered, "Yes,
I'm looking for Roy. Do you know where I might find him?"
"Roy . . . sure, I know Roy. He's back there," he returned
with a
half-laugh that set Julie on edge. "Just go to the door at the
end and
walk right in. It's not locked. There's a waiting room that doubles
as a
dressing area. Just have a seat and Roy will be right with you,"
he
sadistically added in retribution for Roy stepping on his territory
with
Samantha tonight. "It might be a while, but he'll find you."
Julie thanked her benefactor and confidently strolled down the
hallway to the door and opening it, slipped in unheard and made herself
comfortable in the dressing room where a sofa and easy chair were the
only
furniture. And those were tattered.
An unexpected chill coursed down her spine as she sat cross-legged on
the sofa, her purse at her side; she stared at the sequined bikinis
hanging from crude hooks on the walls, the feather headresses and see-
through nighties, and tried to imagine herself feeling at case in such
a
seductive costume. Julie couldn't. A cautious afterthought piqued her
confidence; maybe she shouldn't have come here. Maybe this was too
private a place to talk to Roy. But she was here now, and no way was
she
going to walk back to her car unattended.
She picked up a magazine, last week's Time and read an article on how
Pornography was sweeping the country from the West coast to the East,
and
that soothed her abhorrence of Roy's involvement in it. If everybody
was
doing it for money, she reasoned after scanning the article, then
certainly he could, too. Perhaps she had been too clutching with him.
A
nag?
When the article was read and the magazine thrown carelessly to the
floor, Julie glanced at her watch and then at the door that separated
the
dressing room from the shooting area. At first she thought her eyes
were
tired from reading without her glasses, but she soon recognized it as
fatigue. Yes, it had been a rather grueling day, hadn't it?
Where was Roy anyway? she thought as she stretched out on the sofa
and, substituting her marshmallow soft handbag for a pillow, found it
welcomingly comfortable. Julie just couldn't stay awake any longer,
so
she turned over on her side, crossed her arms over her chest for warmth
and let her eyes close. She tried to stay awake as long as she could,
thinking Roy would be coming through that door any second, but after
a few
minutes, she was sound asleep, dreaming of a happy reunion with her
boy
friend.
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* * *
Behind that door Samantha and Roy were giggling softly, talking
over
the day's shooting. Man, everything had gone well. Shelly got it up
and
kept it there, for a change . . . something that's not easy for any
man
with a line of lights beating down on his head and people directing
him to
'move the right leg left and wrap his arm around her waist . . . now,
lower . . . lower, so we can get a look at those tits of hers . . ."
God,
no, porno films were not so easily done. Now, all the equipment was
unplugged and waiting for tomorrow's shoot.
They were lying on the bed now, the scene of today's shooting, still
hot and damp with sweat and cum. Roy cupped Samantha's soft undulating
buttocks in his hands, pinching the soft flesh between his fingers.
"You are a hell of an actress, you know that?" he asked, getting
up
from the bed to grab the half-empty wine bottle from the floor near
the
ladder. She took the chance to make a dash for her cigarettes before
they
got too involved to want to move.
Bottle of wine in hand, he pulled the giggling Samantha over to the
bed, collapsing heavily himself and then bringing the girt down onto
his
knees. His hand slipped quickly under her robe, rising rapidly to the
soft nylon covered mound of pubic hair between her legs.
"Mmmmmmmmm!" he murmured into her ear. "You're gonna
get it tonight.
Flinging those ass cheeks in front of my face all day," he teased.
"Or
maybe you would rather I let Shelly have you for the night . . ."
"Oh, come on! Shelly's not such a hot lay. He's big, but he doesn't
know how to use it." She pulled an extra-long cigarette from the
pack and
let it dangle from her lips, greasy with lipstick, waiting for a light.
"Come on, light my cigarette. What do you think I am? Liberated?"
She
giggled, wiggling her hips so that her bottom came in contact with the
hard upstanding head of Roy's cock, barely contained by the stretched
cotton of his Levies.
"Oh, Roy . . . damn!"
"Yeah . . . like that?" His hand slipped under the leg band
of her
scanty rhinestone-studded panties and making wet, teasing contact with
the
soft red pussy that already started to moisten at his touch.
As he started a slow teasing rhythm in the narrow smooth fleshed
slit, Roy could feel the heat of the girl's thighs pressing tightly
together against his hand and arm. The wet, sensitive flesh throbbed
gently beneath his moving fingers, the softness of her pubic curls
tickling sensuously against his flattened palm.
"Ohhhhh!" she moaned. "God, but you've got experienced
fingers!
Sure you've been a photographer all your life?"
"Hey, baby. You want it just as bad as I do, don't you. Come on
. .
. I really turn you on, don't I?" Roy breathed hoarsely.
A sigh was her only answer, but quiet: adequate. He could feel the
tense cords in her thighs pressing nervously against his hand, indicating
a hidden strength that he longed to experience wrapped hotly around
his
driving hips.
His other hand fumbled about At her breasts until he found their
firm, full mounds being smashed suddenly against his face. God, she
was
crawling all over him! It was all he could do to keep his hand worming
high up in her cunt as she began to moan and thrash.
"Oh, Roy, Oh God, Roy. Take me, fuck me! Quick!" She was
alternately pulling at his clothes and at her own, and Roy realized
that
he'd better act quick before they were both in rags.
"Okay, baby." he pulled his fingers away from the heat of
Samantha's
pussy, and gathering up his strength, laid her down on her back on the
bed.
She squealed as he pulled off her rhinestone-studded bikinis and
tossed them over the end of the bed.
"Oh, come on Roy, don't tease me, okay? Fuck me, damnit, fuck me
now!" she was saying. "NOW!"
Roy looked at the sensitive throbbing vee of Samantha's cunt, the
same hole he'd been staring and focusing in on every day for the past
three. Man, but she knew how to spread it; it gave his cock a teasing
jerk. Was he ever going to enjoy fucking her! He reached down and
released his cock from his pants, letting it jump out before him. Its
hard red tip glistened dully in the light of the room and large veins
throbbed along the full length of its shaft. He was proud of it. Man,
he'd seen a lot of male cocks lately since working on this film, and
his
stood up to them all!
"Get ready, Baby . . . Daddy's coming to get you!"
Roy crushed down onto Samantha's pulsating body, small beads of sweat
already forming on his brow from the surging excitement he felt. Samantha
clutched Roy tightly to her as though she were trying to squeeze the
last
bit of breath out of him. Roy pushed his hand underneath her already
churning buttocks and raising tier ass up so that her relaxed and waiting
pussy was in direct line of fire for his cock. She seemed to be getting
wetter and wetter as his cock parted the soft, tickling pubic hair and
slipped lewdly between the folds of her trembling pussy.
Finally it found the tight aperture of her cunt pushing heavily
against its temporary barricade. Samantha's behind began to screw itself
up in a more and more desperate motion while she implored him with tiny
grunts and groans to be quick.
"Aaaahhhhh . . ." she groaned as the bulk of Roy's cock slithered
into the sensitive depths between her burning thighs.
"Oh, God, you feel good! . . ." Roy cried as he felt his cock
strike
bottom and Samantha's ass jerked up under him at the swift thudding
impact. Her pelvis ground hard against his back, pulling him even further
into the hot cavern between her legs.
The grasping mouth of her pussy wrapped snugly around his straining
member, the strong vaginal muscles rippling along the hardness of it.
Roy cursed under his breath from the sheer ache of it as his rigid
cock was gently but firmly massaged by the velvet sheath of the red
head's
cunt. It felt so good that he knew he was going to have to have more
of
the sweet, fucking bitch. He ground deeply into the squirming pelvis
that
writhed beneath him, feeling her arching up to meet him as the bed
squeaked in uneven rhythms to the movements of their lovemaking.
* * *
Julie's deep sleep was punctuated by bad dreams. She was still
exhausted from the nervous tension and even though the dreams were
disturbing, she slept on for a while.
Roy was making love to her . . . the way he used to, giving to her
what she was giving to him. Yet, she wasn't naked. Instead she was
wearing a see-through nightgown with rhinestones on the bodice and he
was
taking pictures of her as she teasingly stripped. . . then they were
back
on the bed again with Roy thrusting his huge cock in and out of her
stretched cunt as loud groans of lust filled the room. She could hear
herself crying with pleasure and fear, as the big penis stretched her
pussy wide, sinking far deeper into stretched pussy.
She found herself mouthing obscenities . . . words that were not part
of her vocabulary.
"Your cock is wonderful! Your cock . . . aarrgg . . . fuck me .
. .
fuck me . . . make it hurt!"
Julie tossed on the sofa, in the grips of a very sexual torment,
until a loud piercing scream broke her dream to bits.
She woke suddenly, startled and frightened half out of her mind. At
first, she didn't know where she was, but she remembered quickly enough
and jumped off of the sofa. A light shone from under the door of the
shooting room and through the door the wet flesh smacking against flesh
sounds of lovemaking assaulted her ears.
"Yes, hurt me . . . harder . . . harder!"
Julie rubbed her eyes and rose to her feet shakily and, edged toward
the door separating her from something she was afraid to see. Gently,
she
pushed open the infamous door and squinted in the dim light.. There,
bathed in the warm glow of the lamp was her boyfriend, ridiculously
postured, humping over the flaming red head, thrusting his cock with
tremendous force into the jiggling wide-spread slit of another woman's
cunt. Her eyes rolling uncontrollably in her head as her legs alternately
kicked out and clamped back upon Roy's back.
"I'm cummming . . ." the woman coughed out. "I'm cumming!
The obscene words entered Julie's ears like tiny explosive shock
waves as the lewd sight greeted her unbelieving eyes.
"Yeah . . . oh, Baby . . . yeah!" Roy replied half crazy with
excitement. "Give it to me . . ." He grabbed Samantha's legs
and spread
them far out on either side of his plunging torso, cramping one of them
into the bed. But neither of them was feeling any pain as the spasmodic
twinges of orgasm rose up to envelope them.
A low scream formed deep in Samantha's throat as she felt the first
convulsion overtaking her and Roy groaned out his answer.
"Oh, sweet cunt . . . oh, sweet fucking cunt!"
An additional sound was added to the final gurgling of the frenzied
couple on the bed as Julie, without even realizing that she was uttering
a
sound, screamed twice, the blood-curdling sound pouring forth from her
lips in a steady hysterical scream of absolute horror.
* * *
"No more . . . no more . . . I can't take any more .
. ." The words
kept resounding in Julie's mind as she drove back home. Some red lights
she mistook for green, and at the green ones she stopped, but Julie
paid
little heed to the trivia of driving. Her boy friend had cheated on
her .
. . that was important. Too sad to cry, her body ached for relief from
the throbbing pain lodged in her throat, as if she needed to scream
but
couldn't, as in a bad dream where one is left helpless and easy prey.
And
easy prey she'd been for two years to a man she loved and sacrificed
for.
The imprint of the two of them . . . her boy friend and that . . .
that girl, entangled together on the bed . . . her own image standing
at
the door like a prying nun . . . Oh, God! What a fool I am! What a
stupid fool!
She could still see Roy's horrified face turning to look at her as
she stood screaming in the doorway, watching him scramble up off the
girl,
his big cock dangling lewdly in front of him. She had turned and run
out
the door and there at the elevator, just as the gate was protectively
sliding shut and the heavy door after it, she'd seen Roy's transgressed
face staring at her through the webbed glass. How long Roy pounded on
that elevator door, she didn't know. Still screaming and crying, she
ran
for her car. Now she felt nothing but a cold numbness in her body. Pain
would have been easier, but the choice wasn't hers.
Pure instinct guided her back home, but once she arrived there, she
knew that she could not bear to spend the night. She didn't know which
would be worse, the possibility that Roy might be there, or that he
wouldn't come home.
With a loud stripping of the gears, she made an illegal U-turn on
Hyde Street's cable car line, and headed for North Beach where she knew
Ertha would give her a spare blanket for the night. Anything would do
. .
. as long as she wasn't alone.
Ertha answered the strident ringing of the doorbell as quickly as she
could, despite the fact that she was in the middle of giving her late
date
an oil massage. When she opened the door she was expecting to see one
of
her boy friends, drunk and horny, but instead she hid the slight
disappointment when she saw Julie's weeping figure collapsed against
her
doorway.
"Julie . . . for Godsakes. Now what?" She pulled her inside
and sat
her down in the living room. "Good God, what's . . . what's wrong?"
Ertha rubbed the excess oil on her terry cloth robe before stroking
Julie's hair back from her face. "What happened?"
Julie haltingly began to tell the saga she had just been through,
still unable to believe it herself.
Halfway through, with the guts of the story out, and the emotional
epilogue yet to come, Ertha excused herself and headed toward the back
of
the apartment to call to her date to come join them. His name was Joshua
and he was the emotional sort. Maybe he could help get Julie out of
her
blues with a little affection.
The three of them sat in the living room sipping wine, all attention
on Julie who kept repeating, "I should have known better . . .
it had to
happen sooner or later . . ."
Joshua and Ertha watched as Julie became more inebriated.
"Go ahead, Baby. It'll make you feel better," urged Joshua,
who sat
between the two females, wishing one of them would get back to the rubbing
and forget the sad storytelling. Julie felt somehow relieved by the
stranger's soft voice and mannerisms.
"Here, have some more wine, Julie . . .
Finally, Julie collapsed against the edge of the sofa arm, so tired
and drunk by this time that it didn't matter if it wasn't a bed . .
. or
home. Ertha put a quilt over the girl and gently lifted her head to
slip
a pillow under her head so she wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.
"Poor baby," she whispered to Joshua. "She's gotta loosen
up and
learn to live or she's gonna be miserable for the rest of her life."
Joshua pulled Ertha close, his half-erection giving an ominous jerk.
He cradled her head in his hands and, looking her in the eye, whispered,
"You're just the woman to do that. And you know
it.
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