Come On, Sweet Thing Ch. 01

I'm not 6'4" or a top notch horseman and I started fifteen or twenty years too late to double for Wayne, Gable, Heston, Mitchum, Peck and Lancaster like Chuck Roberson. I am small, so I lied about my age to fall off Buttermilk dressed as Dale in the late fifties. A dozen years later, I remember the director saying "I don't care if he survives, make him look like Burt or Jan-Michael, then get that rocket car moving." Six years after that, I even remember one asshole screaming at makeup, "Shave his chest, we'll shoot him from the neck down. And fluff up his cock so his loin cloth will bulge and he'll look more like Lambert before the cliff dive."

You don't know my name but I've worked steady for over forty years and Hollywood has been good to me. I am smarter than doctors; they say there are 206 bones in the adult human body. Hell, I've broken more than that. My job has been to do fun and stupid things for fifteen minutes and then heal for six months. Then work for another fifteen minutes, falling off horses, crashing motorcycles, jumping off buildings, being blown-up, shot, dragged and beaten. It's a great job. How else could an average Joe get the girls, except as a stuntman in the movies?

Here I am today, in a hospital bed, busted up a little and waiting for Audrey. I'm fifty-seven now. She is not the brightest bulb in the box but she is a gorgeous, sweet, caring, twenty-year-old, who thinks I am some kind of a god and a path to her first screen break. I haven't told her that. She just wants to believe. Her hot, wet, willing body is too special for me to force her to listen to my truth.

"I'm so glad to see you today; come here, Sweet Thing. I've missed you."

Her eyes were full of sympathy for my broken left clavicle, cracked ribs and bruised face. This hardly made the grade of a reason to in the hospital. Things have changed so much. I praised Xylocaine before the fictional Sonny Hooper did. In the old days, we got our ribs taped and then did retakes to preserve our job.

Audrey fussed over me and I told her how to make me feel better. My son guarded the door while she pulled the sheet down and happily bobbed and sucked to administer the miracle that she was so good at. I slipped my right hand under her short dress and slid two fingers into her always wet cunt. She could thrust her hips without moving any other part of her body. There should be stunt women for porn stars.

Audrey was very neat. When I came, she continued to suck and lick until I was spotless and she could cover my softening cock with the sheet and no nurse would notice that anything had happened, except for my heart monitor's record.

"No, don't pull off my fingers. Let me watch you. Thrust your hips so I can hear them squish into you and watch your beautiful eyes and lovely face." She was perfect. She could cum on cue. Her breathing became shallow gasps; her thrusts were long; her face twisted and her eyes, almost shut. Her lovely pussy sucked at my fingers and she came so innocently for a woman who had already had ten lovers this year. She could be acting. I couldn't think much about that. So was I.

"I'm too weak, Audrey, please feed your wetness to me." First she pulled my hand from under her skirt and guided my own fingers into my mouth. When I complained, "You taste so much better when your wetness is on you," she put three of her own fingers inside her and then brought them to my face to paint my lips and tease her scent under my nose.

I was honest, "I can't wait to get home, so you can sit on my face and I can lick you while you suck me."

"I can't wait for that either. It has been so long. I miss you and I want you to drive into me and make me cum and cum."

It had been an entire three days. How could she endure such hardship?

__________________

With a name like Ike Jones, I had to be a stunt man. At one hundred and forty-five pounds, I was invincible and my testosterone level was so high, I knew why Audrey found me irresistible. Still my shoulder needed an operation to be pinned and she was gone from my small horse ranch outside Culver City when I got home in six more days. She had invited two of her female friends to stay and keep her company while I was not home. They were still there and willing to cater to me for room and board. It had always been that way, as long as I had a track record and connections into the movies. It did not matter when I told them that my contacts were outside the casting mainstream. Still, I was the best possible inroad they had for now. These two would be gone, just like Aubrey, when a better contact came along.

Russ "Stinky" Carroll has been my best friend since he got his nickname thirty years ago. He hates it. All those years ago, early in the day on a short shoot, he was drug through a large pile of manure and we all had to work with him through several more retakes. He definitely was ripe by noon. For the last few years, Russ has been making "How To" films for various types of horse events. I had met a soft-porn producer from a cable network and he had asked me, if I knew someone who could make some films for him. It was against my better judgment to make the call but I did.

"Stinky, Ike, did you meet Dave Dormer at the roach coach buffet, when we did the Cimarron remake?"

"I have no idea, who he is."

"You're running out of work and he's looking for a soft porn honcho for a series of "halfs" for a cable channel - could be a good six months of work, even if you're not picked up."

"At this point, I'll try anything."

"What's the problem? We haven't talked since the "Maverick" homecoming."

"Another split with another live-in who thinks, I'm made of money. Luckily, I didn't marry this one or adopt her kids."

"What did I tell you twenty years ago? You are finally learning, and after only six tries."

"Piss off."

"Here is the number. Call me if you need a stunt man. I'm too old to try porn. If a woman spends a night with me, I'm happy to be out of pain and get it up."

"I'll call him tomorrow. I don't ever want to see another woman."

"Tell me that next month."

"For a friend you are not very supportive. Did I tell you to, "Fuck Off?""

"No, but I bet that is what got you into trouble with this split too."

"I need a new friend; you are starting to know too much about me."

About a week later, at the ungodly hour of six a.m. on a non-shooting day, my phone went nuts.

"Hello, Pancake House."

"Ike, I need some help finding girls."

"I don't pimp at six in the morning."

"No, really, the lead you gave me was good. The first story will be used as a pilot and it actually has sort of a plot - seems this beautiful girl wants a real job but cums so easily that she keeps screwing up and getting fired."

"Yea, where does it go from there?"

"That is all there is for now. I know you write some porn and always have some young girls around. I thought you could help."

"Damn, didn't you listen, I don't pimp before noon. Meet me at Marna's in North Hollywood at one. You make the reservations and pick up the tab. I'll have you in trouble before three."

When I arrived at Marna's, Russ handed me a tea glass full of Beam and water -- well Beam and ice anyway. I handed him a roughed out ten-page script for a woman who starts as a helper training Dressage horses, then tries a photo shoot on a Harley and then is supposed to model beautiful lingerie from an exclusive local shop. I know you are ahead of me. The horse's trainer puts her onto a worn saddle and the horse's unique gate has her eyes rolled back and her wetting the saddle in minutes. The vibrating Harley has her humping it instead of showing off the chrome. And of course the dyke who helps dress her in revealing outfits gets her to stain each one and they get rich selling the results on the Internet along with a short film showing the exact undies getting wet.

Russ was wild with enthusiasm, until he let his excitement dropped with the words, "We don't have a casting budget."

"So what's new? I expect you to use my ranch for scenes one and two and pay me for it. I'll talk to the two women Audrey left behind. Maybe I can even find her. She is the poster child for the pilot. Girls for soft porn are not the problem in this town."

"Damn, Ike, this could turn into something. I really owe you for the contact, the script ideas and...."

"Just keep your dick in your pants until half the first year's commitment is done. Every other week, do something with horses. Let that be your trademark this year. You have all the contacts you need there. I'll help you with the scripts for scale and 10% of what you pay any girls, I send to you. If you are picked up, I expect you to do something nice for me in the contract."

"Ike, I cannot thank you enough. I've been really depressed and not doing much for six months. The timing could be perfect. Everything for the split has already been settled. This could put me back on my feet."

"If you had stayed on your feet, you wouldn't be in trouble in the first place."

"Ok, smart ass, want another drink?"

"If you buy me another drink, I'll outline two more episodes for you and get some girls to come see you Monday. I need some yellow pads and two colors of medium tipped felt pens."

It was fun to see, Russ excited. At one time, he had been more fun than anyone but he has been gradually worn down by bad relationships and financial obligations. He has a lot of talent but he has to be free and wild for it to come out. As he ordered my next drink, he sent a waiter down the street to an office supply store. I had a lot of fun scribbling ideas and seeing a more and more exuberant Russ take rough scenes and run with them, adding his own creative thoughts.

When I got home, I asked Crissy and Lynn, "Do either of you know how to get in touch with Aubrey?"

Lynn shook her head "No" but Crissy added, "Maybe. She could have gone with that Donny guy."

"Donny Shell?"

"Yea, that sounds right."

"He is a big liar and sleaze even on Hollywood standards. Have either of you heard of Russ Carroll?"

Both shook their heads, no.

"Russ and I used to do stunts together. He has been producing and directing "How Too" films for horse enthusiasts for the last few years. Now, he is going to be directing a few soft-porn, thirty-minute shows, for Showtime. He is looking for new faces. Audrey came to mind. Do you know any other girls, younger than thirty and pretty, who are looking for a shot in front of the camera?"

"How about us?"

"Sure, but he'll need to test more. There are three vignettes in each thirty minute show and some of the vignettes might have more than one girl."

"We have danced together and done two girl shows. We haven't acted out here, but we want to try. We've been hoping, you would give us some pointers."

"Get me at least six other girls, try to find Audrey and I'll give you some pointers and assure you that Russ will give all of you a fair audition."

They squealed and danced around, excited as nine year olds.

"Calm down you two. This won't be a big paying gig. If you are good, there might be some reoccurring roles or chances to be in more than one episode. The cable nets all have series like this and the actors bounce around. It could be a chance to be noticed by other directors. Not all series use outside talent. They sub-contract to groups that maintain medical and drug tests and assure that healthy, drug and disease free bodies will be on set when they are supposed to be there so that there are no costly downtimes for these low budget productions."

"If we are good can we get into such a group?"

"Yes, but if you are good and the series takes off, Russ might want to form his own group of trusted actors. Didn't you ever notice that a lot of the famous studio stars of the thirties, forties and fifties often worked with the same people from character actors, tech help, to grips? Movie after movie, you would see the same faces on screen and the same names on the credits."

I got two blank stares. I was talking about ancient times and neither knew what a grip was.

"Don't worry; over a long dinner and some wine, you'll learn lots of the terms. But there has to be at least eight of you."

Two nights later, about seven p.m., the lovelies had seven others and Aubrey out by the pool for a bar-b-cue and talk. I stared at Aubrey and she looked down at her feet.

"Ladies, I believe you are all new to the business and are looking for your first break. Today is Friday. Monday morning, you will all do quick tests in front of the camera with the series director, a camera man and a sound man. If the camera likes you and you come across real, you will be in at least one scene. Tonight, tomorrow and early Sunday, I'll give you a primer on the business, so you will know the very basics of what is going to happen."

The ladies were all quiet, so I continued, "This will be a straight soft-core, made for TV, series. It will not be shot hard-core and cut into various US and international ratings, no stills, no Internet feeds, no casting expectations, no dick shots or direct visuals of acts."

I got ten blank stares. It was going to be a long night. None of these lovelies had any idea how money was made in the porn business or what the various editing standards are. I sent Aubrey for a strap-on dildo so we could show examples. We staged scenes and the girls got to see the very different effects of camera angles, how something might show on film but be edited out or emphasized. They saw how a still could capture a split second and it would be triple x rated even though the rest of the scene was soft. By two a.m., we were all getting tired and I announced classes would begin at 10 a.m. There was a big groan. "If the director likes sunrise shadows, what time do you think you will be getting up to make the set across town at five a.m? Welcome to Hollywood ladies. And by the way on that five a.m. shoot, you have to look ravishing, horny and be tolerant when your partners forget lines, are late or the camera malfunctions and you have to do the same thing tomorrow morning, even earlier."

Audrey came over to sit with me by the dying campfire while the others all found places to bed down for the night.

"Ike, I'm sorry, I wasn't here when you got out of the hospital; I thought I saw a short cut into the movies by going with Donny."

"Beautiful, there are lucky breaks but no short cuts. You have to do your time to learn the craft. Along the way there are thousands of blood suckers like Donny Shell. Get yourself checked out. You've been around some but Donny loses count of the females he's conned and fucked every few months."

"He didn't even remember my name the third night I was staying at his house."

"You'll find that is the way it is 60% of the time in this business. You have to learn how to spot the sleazy ones. It's tough."

"I wish you would have told me."

"Would you have listened?"

"I guess not."

"Russ is a good guy. He's male and not on the "A list," so he can be used. Don't do it. Just be beautiful and do your job. Maybe something will happen. I'm sure he will want you for the pilot's first episode. I brought you a copy; read it but don't let anyone else see it. Out here your best friend will cut your legs out from under you for a better script or part. Give it back to me tomorrow and do not make any copies or talk about it. If you do, the scene might show up on HBO a week before the Showtime series starts."

"It gets that bad?"

"Worse."

"I felt safe here with you. I really enjoyed your company. You are fun to talk with, be around, work with and go to bed with. I hadn't found that combination in a while. Can we try again?"

"Play it slow. Things will be hectic for a while. If the series is picked up and you become a regular, you will be able to pick a young handsome stud to hang out with and make the social rounds. That's not for me anymore."

"I'm not sure it is for me either. Somehow I was thinking about a job, going into work each morning, being glamorous when I wanted to be and being private the rest of the time."

"Wrong business, pretty little girl."

"I'm not a little girl."

"Out here, you are an infant to be devoured by the hard core, aggressive, cougars, who are holding on by the skin of their teeth. Everyone is replaced here. It is just a matter of how long your run is -- no movies, one movie or a hundred movies."

"Not very pretty."

"Go on to bed; get some rest."

"Aren't you going to bed? Can't I stay with you?"

"Go stay in my bed. I probably won't use it tonight. I need to think and write for a while. Remember, class at ten."

--------------------------

I went for shock value at ten. "The director is competing to survive and be successful. He is under great stress and doesn't have time to baby you. Whatever the director asks, you give it and you give it your all. If you don't, there are ten behind you who will and you will be out of a job."

Lynn spoke up, "What if he asks me to do something that was not in the agreement?"

"Class, all together now."

Maybe seven voices answered, "You will be out of a job."

Lynn still was not convinced.

I gave her a silly but effective example, "A show of hands, who will hang spread eagled, upside down and be eaten by a midget dressed as a donkey for a shot at the big time."

Maybe three hands went up. "Lynn, you were the director's first choice but you said, "No." Do you think anyone with a hand up is beautiful enough to take your place in the scene?"

She mumbled.

"Louder, Lynn, so everyone can hear."

"All of them."

"There are only about a dozen stars world-wide, who can sometimes write their own tickets against a director. So know who you are working with and decide ahead of time what your limits are. The best director in Hollywood might get you alone while you are on your way up and ask you to spread them. Decide ahead of time, how much you want something."

A petite red-head I did not know, asked, "Does it really happen like that?"

"In a word, "Yes." Usually the big guns aren't so crude. They have lines outside their doors begging to do anything for a shot. The big guns have their picks before the casting even starts. They won't usually take any chances with a set cast or an established company."

She added, "How does anyone make it through all that?"

"Talent, luck, scripts, agents, timing, supporters and mentors. Enough talk, today, let's see who the camera likes."

A leggy blonde asked, "What do you mean?"

"Stand up. Turn around. Walk for us."

She had to have been "Home Coming Queen" and had some modeling training. "You are drop dead gorgeous to my eyes, here, now and in-person. But how do you come across to the viewing audience of video tapes, a digital shoot or film? Some people do not photograph well. Some plain-Janes the camera loves and they come across much better than they actually are. But we are in the movie business so the camera has the only important vote."

All day, each girl filmed the same scene twice. It was a lesbian scene. First, they played the sub and the second time they were dominate. Everyone got a healthy dose of waiting and was exhausted by seven p.m. During the day, they learned how lunch breaks worked. How to avoid the onions in the potato salad, if they wanted a good reaction out of their lover. How to play to a camera, but never look at it. They even had to do a scene with me and pretend to be turned on by someone three times their age.

Over way to much tequila that night, several of the girls bundled up in blankets and sat around the campfire to ask more questions. The group was opening up, not being intimidated, learning what was expected and that the business at its best is impersonal because decisions are made to make something on film a success.