Chosen Ch. 07 (Conclusion)

I'd never flown anywhere first class before, and I can see why people who do it, always do it. The first class seats are actually comfortable. You don't feel like herded cattle.

Steven and Marcia were not in first class. I didn't miss them. Steven had turned into a mother hen, fussing over everything I ate, my exposure to sun, and how long I talked the two times I was recognized from the cover of Jane In Chains, and got asked for an autograph. (That made a total of three times in my life, and I think I was more embarrassed than the people asking for it.)

The flight was long, but overnight, and I found I was able to sleep. We landed five minutes early, just before eight in the morning, near Madrid.

We were met by a limo, and luggage was taken care of as we settled in plush leather seats. (I clung to my carry-on; it had the book in it.)

It was all wonderful, but I felt completely unworthy. It wasn't as if my modelling career was taking off. I was not a celebrity. I was only someone chosen by a book.

But still, here I was in Spain. I was still stunned by it all, as the limo drove off with me, Steven, Marcia and a smiling woman attendant in the back.

The attendant promptly unpacked a large basket, and handed out trays with a light breakfast -- local fruit, pastries, eggs and water. "Welcome to Spain. My name is Suzanne and I will be serving as Miss Smith's personal assistant and concierge for your stay. Travel time to the hotel is four hours and twenty five minutes; but we'll stop midway to stretch. If you need anything at any time, ask!"

"Miss Smith seems to like all this attention, from her blush," Marcia said, grinning at me. She wasn't being catty, but she could be a merciless tease. I treated her to a small embarrassed glare.

"Coffee," Steven said, impassively. "The airline coffee was atrocious."

Stupid asshole, I thought. He was intent on acting like a big time agent, oh-so-used to having a personal assistant at his beck and call. A long running, vague and simmering dislike for him, suddenly flowered into utter disdain. I certainly did not deserve Susanne, but just maybe I deserved better than Steven. If this gig lead to anything better...

"Of course," Suzanne said. "Café con leche is how it's traditionally taken in the morning in Spain, would you like to try it?" she said.

"That's, like, with milk, right? No. Black."

"For one?"

Marcia and I declined. Suzanne smiled and set up a small coffeemaker in her basket of tricks. It plugged in by her seat, and she had it going in no time, burbling quietly in the bottom of the basket. I remembered from my reading that the Spanish liked their coffee roasted dark and nearly espresso-like, and I silently wished Steve luck getting it down. He was known for bitching that Dunkin Donuts coffee was too intense and bitter, and he wouldn't touch Starbucks.

You despise him, Adriana's distinctive internal voice suddenly said to me. Why have you put up with him this long?

He finds work for me, I thought back.

You're weak, she replied, and then fell silent.

+++

We spent time commenting on the scenery -- Spain is gorgeous -- and how people dressed.

"Oh," I said. "I didn't check the weather today."

"In Córdoba it will peak at around 86 Fahrenheit today, around 1pm or 2pm. No rain is expected for the next three days," Suzanne said, immediately.

"People here use Celsius, don't they?"

"Yes. About 30 degrees today. A little wind; it won't be a bad day if you're outside. If you stay into June the temperature will creep up; Córdoba doesn't get too bad; Seville is worse. August can be awful."

"Oh, I don't plan to be here that long. This is just a photoshoot. Though it is very pretty here, I don't know if I'd mind staying..."

"Oh, you'll have more gigs," Steven said. "We'll be keeping you busy."

He's trying to impress the servant, Adriana whispered to me. That's pathetic.

Suzanne is not a servant! I snapped back.

Of course she is. And she seems like a good one. I've never had one; it's kind of nice...

You're being a pig. Go back to sleep.

+++

At the hotel -- a towering fortress of a place -- Suzanne tried to take my carry-on bag. I firmly declined the help. She didn't miss a beat; nothing seemed to faze her.

"Mister Renseman and Miss Debios have rooms on the sixth floor. You are in the suite on the seventh. This is just a place to stay when you want peace and quiet, Miss Smith. It's expected you'll stay in the castle most nights. That's a convenience for the photographers, who will want some early morning and late night shots at the site. This limo is for your use; there will be a second one available for your agent and assistant."

She escorted me to my room and swiped us in. "If you require anything, it's quicker to deal with me than deal with the hotel staff." She handed me a small device. "This is my call button. Tap it and I'll come running. The number on the tag is my cell phone number, if you don't need my personal presence. I'm on call twenty four seven. Elena and Alexandro, the limo drivers, are my backups. Never hesitate. Now, if you're dining in, this is the electronic menu for room service. Just tap on what you want, anything from a quick snack to a meal for the three of you. No need to call the order down. If you have questions about the services of the hotel itself, channel 1 on the screen there explains it all. You have a private wifi connection, which is unlimited use and the hotel staff can't read it, so feel free to carry on those wild relationships with the boys back home," she said, with an impassive face; but mischief glittering in her eyes.

A bellboy rolled my luggage in. Once he settled the bags, I reached for my wallet, but Suzanne smoothly stepped in and tipped him. As soon as he departed, she turned to me. "At no time do you touch money, Miss Smith. My employer would take it as a personal insult. The only exception is gifts you buy for friends. Anything for you or your staff, I pay."

She left me with three room key cards, and departed with Steve and Marcia to get them settled.

I looked out the window.

"I'm in your lands, Lucio. You probably saw these hills on your way to Seville. I'm sure the buildings look very different, but the hills and rivers won't have changed much. I'm in your lands and very much in your hands. The boys back home? I don't think I'll be needing them..."

I took a bath in the Jacuzzi; it thoughtfully had a phone built into it, so I arranged for a late lunch with Marcia. I decided Steve could be busy elsewhere, arranging my meeting with my employer.

+++

I met that employer the next day. I've decided not to name him, as this was a private shoot, but he made a fortune in Japan on robotics and has a fascination with producing and patronizing art -- especially art involving women. He'd rented a castle near Córdoba for his time here, which gives you some idea how he rolls. Suzanne was in his permanent employ; I got curious and asked her about her work. She made over seven times what I had in my last steady employment, and she spoke six languages fluently. He had two others just like her, one here and one in Japan.

I'd been afraid the introduction would be sleezy, but he met me in a suit and tie, in a temporary office he'd set up in a tower, with Steven, Suzanne and another assistant present. He complimented me on my beauty exactly once, and then launched into his vision for the shoot. Steve tried to insert himself into the discussion, but my host merely looked at him, and that solved that problem. There was a difference, I'd learned, between real authority and Steven's blustering.

My employer smiled at me. "I am looking for overtly sexy, miss Smith, but not trashy. I want to capture the heart of a proud woman being forced to face her own need to submit to masculinity. I have tried this with a few Asian women, and frankly, if I can be allowed a stereotype, they unerstood the submissive aspect but missed the proud one. After a few tries my advisors suggested I look to American or Spanish women. What I need comes closer to acting than modelling, but when I saw your portfolio I was struck by your expressive face, in addition to the other things you bring to the table. Your book cover work was very evocative."

"Thank you. I look forward to realizing your vision."

He smiled. "Do you? You haven't done nude work before. You have no reservations about it?"

Wait, said Adriana's voice in my head. You're posing nude for this... person?

Shut up, Adriana, I thought back. Not now.

Naked? For a man you do not know and will never love? For money? You're a whore?

It's modelling! It's my profession!

In my day if a man wanted a woman's beauty, he married her for it! She was promised a lifetime of companionship and care! What are you getting instead?

It's not like that! You don't understand my world! You were raised by nuns!

And you were raised by whores?

Something in me bridled, the wonder and awe of having a voice in my head completely obscured by fury.

Listen to me right now, Adriana. This is my life and you're here because of who knows what magic, but that doesn't give you any right to judge me. Lucio told me to take this job, and I took it because it was the only way I knew how to follow along on this crazy ride I'm on. I don't know what this is about. I don't understand you or a single thing that's happened. I am doing the best I can to keep up with something no one in my lifetime would ever understand, out of a loyalty I feel for someone I don't even know! But the choices are mine to make, and if there's a purpose to you being here, it's to help me. So you'll help me or you'll stay silent! No other options.

She paused. So. Maybe you're not so weak after all. That is something, because you'll need all the strength a woman ever had to manage a life with Lucio. Very well. I will let you make your choices, but if you sleep with anyone here I'll make you puke lizards on them!

If a voice in your head can flounce off in a huff, hers did.

I pulled myself together. My employer was waiting for an answer.

"I have reservations, of course I do. But the contract I signed had strict limits on what was filmed and where those recordings can go. I believe I can do what I promised to do."

"Very well. Let's meet the cast."

+++

I was filming with two men, and if you like them muscled, mustached and macho, these were your guys. They were strutting around the set bare-chested, and I have to admit they were both serious hunks. I was suddenly intimidated. I was going to be naked. They were going to be naked. I knew from talking to other models that a lot of nude work is really partial nudity and careful camera angles. But not this time.

I was introduced to them, and that put me at ease. The taller one was clearly gay, and somehow in this context that was somewhere between comic and calming. The other one was Spanish, with limited English; he ogled me freely, but the smile and handshake were ok. I decided I liked them both, and would continue to like them just fine until those jeans shorts came off... and then I'd just close my eyes and hope I didn't make a wet mark when I sat down.

"K, bitch," the gay one said, winking. "Let's try to do everything single take, because I got a date this evening. Local bodybuilder."

+++

Acting -- setwork in general -- is hard. I don't know how actual actors do it, especially erotic work. The constant interruptions, set changes, intrusive camera work -- it's a complete buzzkill, and the constant attention to everything going on is emotionally draining. Maybe that's why so much porn sucks.

My acting had been limited to a few commercials. I was getting a rapid education. But I'm not going to describe all that. Only one thing happened that mattered in the shoots.

"Chains scene," the director called. "Adrienne, these are real metal chains, so we're going to wrap your wrists in flesh-colored leather for protection. If it hurts, say something. The guys will be pulling you around and you'll be struggling. The guys have asked that you keep your nails to yourself, but they can take slaps and punches. In the end you are restrained and dragged into a very sensual scene." He handed me the updated script. He lowered his voice. "Sweetheart, this part is porn and porn is hard work. We're going to try to capture a specific mood, and you're not a trained actress. So we're going to try to do it in one take. I don't know how good you are at faking responses, but look over the script carefully. This scene is the erotic centerpiece. You haven't been asked to fake orgasms, but we want it obvious you're struggling not to have one. Take a few minutes to get your headspace right."

Marcia was all over me, doing that magic thing she did where she put a lot of makeup on me, and to the camera, it didn't look like there was any on when she was done. Suzanne hovered, with bottled water, a bottle of wine, fans -- it was hot today -- and keeping the other crew off of me.

"Alright, sweetheart," Marcia said. "This is the part where the robe comes off. Just step behind this screen."

She applied makeup in places I didn't usually apply makeup to. "That Ramon," she whispered. "The straight one. Sweetheart, he can't take his eyes off you."

"I... know." I said. "He's been impeccably polite, but I felt naked even with the robe on. I don't know how I'm going to step out from behind this screen."

"As if it's natural," she said. "Don't for a moment show shame or coyness. Head up, eyes forward, attentive and calm. This is a career building moment. It's interesting that the guy paying for this isn't around. But I bet he's watching. Turn around... yeah, those workouts have really done it for you. I'm actually going to have to blend out some of the muscle tone to get a more feminine look... "

"I look plenty feminine," I said, archly.

"Yes you do, honey, but cameras exaggerate. They aren't shooting soft filter."

Marcia's claim to fame was that she was fast. Steven liked that because it saved money, but for once I wished she'd dawdle.

"Perfect," she said. "Show time."

+++

"We won't rough you," Ramon said. "We make it look rough, ok? But no so much really. The grip on your arms will be tight, though. You can be rough back, you need to make it real. No claws. Open hand to the face only, my face is too pretty for bruises. Si?"

I nodded.

"Places.... Action," called the director.

They two guys chased me, cornered me, and then Ramon caught my wrist. I pulled free, but he gripped again. And now the script just said "struggle".

I'm not sure what happened. But I was suddenly aware of Adriana, and the Victoria Secret workout I'd been living by had been punches and kicks. My limbs moved without me thinking about it...

Ramon went down from a fist in the solar plexus, and Henry got a chop to the balls.

"Cut!"

"Shit I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that!"

"What the fuck, actress is fighter?" Ramon wheezed.

"No! No! I just... panicked... I'm so sorry!"

Henry was ok -- he was wearing a cup and I'd only startled him. But it took Ramon two minutes to breathe normally.

"Check out this shit," one of the camera guys said, bringing a laptop over. "Pivot and punch, elbow strike, low roundhouse chop, step away... it's not real cinematic, but what fucking realism."

Adriana, I hissed. You did that!

I've been grabbed by enough men in my life. Lucio taught me to fight back. Oh that felt good!

Stop it! Stop it now! This isn't real!

I know. They weren't expecting it. That made it fun.

I couldn't control my blush. "I'm sooo sorry! I...uh, had a self defense class in junior high. I had no idea any of it stuck! It won't happen again."

We'll see about that, Adriana murmured.

+++

I have to explain that Adriana wasn't... coherent. She was just a memory, a way of thinking and feeling... she'd react to things I experienced, but she didn't always remember previous conversations or situations with me. If I sent her "away", she'd stay quiet until something else triggered her. But she could appear very suddenly. Very, very suddenly.

Ramon and Henry pushed me back against a wall and wrapped chains around my wrist.

Adriana was back, and I shrieked in rage and pulled on the chains with a fury I'd never known. This time it was Henry that got hurt, his finger caught awkwardly by the whipping chain. But now they were used to the crazy actress, and Ramon put me back against the wall with a vehemence that took some of my breath out of me, and got the chain across my throat to settle me down.

Adriana whiplashed to a different emotion. Oh, Lucio... she moaned in my head.

Too much information, I snapped back at her, but she didn't hear me. She was with Lucio again, as far as she knew, and a fire that I've never felt anything like, raged up. Next thing I knew I was passionately kissing Ramon -- and this time there was no dismissing Adriana. Shaking, I sank into what was happening, thoughts blurring. I was dimly aware at the shocked silence on the set, the frantic but quiet movement of cameramen scrambling to catch action that had gone dramatically off script. Ramon shifted to this unexpected scene change by ripping my blouse off, and Adriana eagerly pressed my breast into his hand, then my thighs around one of his. I was sinuous, writhing, hot, wet...

Adriana, stop! He's just an actor! Stop!

She suddenly vanished, leaving my body still hotly aroused and squirming, but back under my control. I did the only possibly thing I could think of, given the part of the script we were supposed to be doing -- I suddenly pushed Ramon off me and gave him my best mocking, cold smile, as if I'd only been toying with him.

"Cut!"

The crew gathered around monitors, staring avidly at what they'd captured. I heard torrents of Japanese and English.

My employer's voice suddenly echoed from speakers. "Miss Smith, is the script not to your liking?"

I was so screwed.

"No, it's fine!" Think, Adrienne, think! "I'm just... remember I'm not an actress. I'm trying to figure out this character I'm playing. You wanted proud."

I heard some Japanese over the speakers, and then English again.

"My script writer and I agree you've taken this is a better direction than we'd come up with. I should have anticipated this. I'd fired actresses for not being proud enough, for just slavishly yielding. I should have known that someone able to play the kind of will and fire I was hoping to see in character, would have the kind of will and fire to experiment with the script as well. We're going to take a break to let the grips deal with the new camera angles this scene will need. My writer and I will be down shortly to discuss these new ideas with you."

Suzanne was at my side instantly, with a new blouse and a sponge for my head. "You impressed him," she said, "That doesn't happen often. He's put you on his writing team. That means your pay scale just changed. His writer may feel threatened by that, so don't bring up a pay raise, just be pleasantly surprised when you see the paycheck. I can't promise this, but think you just netted another three thousand dollars American per day, or at least that's what will happen if he continues to like your ideas. This is just about unprecedented, Miss Smith. He's a man who gets what he wants when he wants it, and no one who works for him would consider trying to improve on his commands."

Adriana, I thought, desperately. I'm going to need your help.

No. I made a mistake. That's not Lucio. And anyway figure it out on your own. That actor is no Lucio, but he's not so bad either. Are you that cold a woman that you can't be passionate? Where's your fire, your anger? You're a woman. Blaze like the sun, don't drizzle like a cloud.