She inpected her makeup in the tiny bathroom mirror and said, “I’ll finish out this day no matter what.” Running a brush through her air and starting a new stick of gum, she continued, “Then it’s back to the motel and if Jan hasn’t left a message, I’ll go to the police tomorrow morning. But she’ll call.”
Von Seagram picked up the loud hailer. “Break everyone. Ten minutes then back and ready to finish today’s shoot.” He handed the loud hailer to the stage manager and walked off the set.
Crystal walked to the corner of the nearest set and stopped not sure what was happening except that the director was talking to someone she’d never seen before. He was tall with olive skin and jet-black hair slicked back, but neat and trimmed. His clothes were expensive, his manner restrained.
“I’m telling you that she needs to come with me now,” Simms said. Looking around he dropped his voice.
“And I’m telling you that there are no other girls who can do this. If she doesn’t perform, I walk,” Von Seagram screamed, veins sticking out on his neck like cables.
Simms pumped his hands up and down, like he was trying to slow traffic. “I’ve come all the way down here to pick her up,” Simms said, dropping his voice in further hope of calming the agitated director.
Von Seagram took a deep breath. “All I’m asking is for a few hours so I can finish this shot, a couple hours at the most.”
Simms continued looking around. “Ok, two hours. You’ve got exactly two hours, not a minute more.”
Simms relented only because he had to be back up north in time for an extraction satellite linked to the customer; he’d be operating live. If he couldn’t take Crystal now, he’d have to find another way to get her to the clinic.
All Crystal could tell was that the director was mad at the stranger. She hadn’t heard her name mentioned, but was sure they were talking about her.
The director waved at her. “Come here, doll. You just got the starring roll.”
Her heart beat faster when she realized he was waving at her. She knew what that meant.
“You got your lines down, doll?”
She glanced down at the script, at her three lines. She was to play the mistress. The jilted husband was going to knock at the door of her apartment and when she answered, wrapped in a towel and immediately seeing how upset he was, she would say, “Lets see if I can help you forget her.” She would drop to her knees right there at the door. He would then help her to her feet and carry her to the bed where she would say, “How would you like it?” At which time he would guide her into a doggy position ending with a tight shot of his climax. Crystal would then respond with her final line, “Oh that was really nice.”
Her stomach began to lurch as she re-read her three lines.
“C’mon, doll, what’s the hold up? Drop the robe and get on your mark. Time’s money.”
The director’s assistant guided her to the chalked x, taking her robe and script, and handing her a towel.
Conner Roddy played the part of the dejected husband, and had been acting in porn movies for nearly ten years. He possessed classic good looks and at six feet, weighed a lean 170 pounds.
He was a porn director’s dream, able to sustain an erection despite the lights, techs and two or three takes.
Crystal had supposedly just stepped out of the shower. When the director shouted action she was to move across the floor as though heading for the closet, interrupted by the knock at the door.
As she began to walk she wished she had a stick of gum to settle her stomach.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
She turned and took the two steps necessary to reach the door, grasped the knob and opened the door.
She cooed as her pretend lover leaned forward to kiss her.
“It’s Vicky,” Conner said. “She, she’s left me.”
As Conner stepped across the threshold, Crystal dropped to her knees.
She gasped out her first line, “Let’s see if I can help you forget her,” closed her eyes and prayed he would be quick.
“Cut!” the director shouted. “Hey, doll, you got something in your eye? What’s it going to look like if your doing your lover with your eyes closed? Close the door, Con; get on your mark. Doll, pick up the towel, we’ll take it from the knock at the door. Remember eyes open, big smile.
She cursed herself for having to do it again, but wondered how she was going to smile with a mouth full of…
“Action!” Von Seagram shouted.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
She opened the door, once again cooing as Conner leaned in for the kiss, then stepped across the threshold.
“It’s Vicky, she, she’s left me.”
Crystal dropped to her knees, eyes open. Fumbled with his belt and zipper, extracting his…
“Cut!” Con, baby. First the kiss, then your line… then step over the threshold. Back on your mark, close the damn door. Doll, pick up the towel. We’ll take it from the knock on the door. Everybody ready? Let’s get it right this time. Action!”
On the third take, the director caught Crystal fumbling with Conner’s zipper. Take four, he looked bored. Take five, Crystal was making a face. By the sixth take Crystal didn’t care any more, just wanting it to be over. As Conner carried her to the bed, a big four poster, she had no idea what she was in for. He gently laid her on the bed on her back, cue for her second line.
“How would you like it?”
She thought it would be like the time with Rudy, her third lover who liked different positions. Not so.
Without a word Conner kneeled down on the bed placing one hand between her thighs and the other on her side, practically flipping her onto her stomach, her cue to come up onto her hands and knees. Completely out of sync — she felt as if she were moving in slow motion while he was moving at full speed. He was very well endowed, and for once she was thankful for the director’s interruptions, bringing Conner to a halt while the camera moved in for a different angle.
Finally, as her already sore knees began to suffer burns from sliding back and forth on the sheets, he finished, cue for her third line. Still on her hands and knees Crystal looked over her shoulder. “Oooh, that was nice.”
“Cut! That’s a wrap. Everyone back on the set tomorrow, eight o’clock sharp.”
Crystal was off the bed, snatching up her robe as she stormed off the set headed for the trailer. Twenty minutes later she was in her rental car headed back to her motel.
Chapter Eight
Rye stood behind Paul Casey, the rope wrapped around his waist.
Suddenly, Paul made a lunge at the tripod. “It’s slipping!”
Rye quickly tied off the rope at the last stake. “Christ, it’s not holding her weight. Paul we need a board that will reach across the hole to keep the tripod from falling in on her.”
Paul limped to the barn as fast as he could.
Moments after he disappeared through the barn doors, Rye looked on in horror as the legs of the tripod slipped and the center portion that supported the rope dropped the nearly five feet to ground level.
The harness allowed Claire to descend in a sitting position, the rope coming down in front of her face attached to the ring located near her abdomen. When the rope went slack, her legs straightened and she dropped like a stone. She attempted to spread eagle as she fell, hoping to span the hole and at least slow her fall. But she continued to plummet feet first. When the rope finally stopped her fall, Claire felt a sharp pain in her stomach, and then blacked out. Her limp body finally came to a stop with all her limbs hanging down, bent backwards.