"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 Dobermans 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.
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 Levi's.
"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."