"Naw, they won't, Angie. I really like the idea of that rape scene with you. So we'll drive up to the woods and set it up. Should be a good scene."
In a way I was disappointed because here, under the lights, it seemed more like Hollywood. Deep down I was already excited, thinking about the countless men and women all over the country who would be watching me get screwed. I could be home taking a bath, or eating, or maybe in school, while somewhere, some time, people would be getting sexed-up from watching me get raped. It was a sensation that I enjoyed. An extension of my own sexual capacities until I felt like a real artist. A person who gave to the world something beyond their own personality. Maybe I was justifying myself, my own need for sexual exploitation, yet I had no guilt about it. I liked to fuck. I meant to make a living at it. And to my mind it was just another side of the coin from a housewife. A wife had to fuck for her bread too, or her husband would be chasing me and a dozen other females. So where was the wrong in enjoying the natural hungers of your own body? Lots of famous women had done it.
We drove up the canyon, and Bruce was cussing.
"Too much fuckin' sunlight!" He was mad. "I wanted it to look like dusk. Gives more drama when it's darker. Shit, now I'll have to use filters!"
He set up the scene where I had to walk through these trees, with books under my arm, and this guy follows me. I hear him coming. I run. The guy chases me.
He grabs me and throws me to the ground.
Sounded okay, but we did it six times before Bruce was satisfied, and I was getting tired. That was a lot of walking and running for nothing and I got the feeling Bruce thought he was a great Hollywood director, making a big important scene.
We took a break and had some sandwiches, then he got on to fucking me. This guy grabbed me and threw me down into the leaves, and I didn't have to act about getting raped.
"Hey, lemme up!" I kicked and yelled. "This ground's too hard! It hurts my back! Oooowww, something's sticking in my back!"
Bruce had costumed me with some special tear-away clothes so the actor ripped them off and then went to fucking me.
"Look at the camera, Angie!" Bruce shouted. "Let us see the pain on your face!
Look at the camera!"
Fuck him and his camera. The actor was screwing me all right but it was a dud.
He didn't even have a hard-on, yet he was pounding me into that hard dirt.
"Lemme up, goddammit!" I beat on his shoulders. "Who the hell you tryin' to kid, Mister! Lemme up!"
"Cut! Cut!" Bruce bellowed as he stood up waving his arms. "For cryin' out loud, Angie! You gotta make it look real! You gotta face the camera for hell sakes! And stop that damn screaming, okay?"
"Tell him to get off!" I was angry. "He's just fuckin' around and he ain't even got it in. This ground is killing my back."
"We can dub in the sexual entry later at the studio," Bruce informed me. "Get some close-ups. Now get on with it, and for hell sakes give us some frontals, will you?"
I did my best and tried to act out the little rape scene, and later at the studio I tried to act passionate when Bruce had the actor fuck me for the close-ups. But the guy could barely get it hard until he had to jack off before it would even rise. In a way that insulted me because I never had trouble before with peckers.
"Sorry, honey," the actor shrugged. "But after a while this gets to be hard work."
That scared me. There wasn't any money in the world that was worth getting bored over sex. Even cash wouldn't do a girl any good if she wasn't a true female any more.
"I've got a great idea," Bruce told me when we finally got done with his little scene. "Tomorrow we'll dress you up as Heidi. There's some sheep up there in the hills and we can play you like a young Swede. Have a gang o guys grab you and do the whole bit. We can fuck the sheep too, and have a double shot."
"I gotta tend some children tomorrow," I alibied.
"Aw, fuck that shit, Angie. What can you make from babysitting? Two bucks?
Five? Hell, I'm paying a hundred bucks a film!"
"How much do you make out of it, Bruce?"
"Well, you gotta remember I've got an investment here, Angie. Then there's the distribution and the mailing and all the equipment."
"I should get more. That was hard work."
"A hundred a film, Angie. That's tops. Shit, half my women fuck all day for fifty!"
"I'll never get rich this way, Bruce. What about the royalties?"
"There ain't no royalties on stag films, sweetie. I just sell the prints. As many as I can."
"I read in the papers about those other girls, and some of them made a hundred thousand dollars from one film."
"Sure they did. Some of 'em even made more. But that's big-league stuff, sweetie. You gotta have connections to put over a big one. It's all pussy, all the same fucking, but you gotta get lucky to hit the big time."
I was not ungrateful to Bruce but a girl could get turned off fucking under the lights. The pleasure of sex just didn't belong there, at least the way he directed it, and it was laughable to have a guy humping like mad on top of you while he didn't even have a hard-on. Sex should never be laughable. It's too important, too beautiful, and I didn't want to become jaded like the other women at his studio. Even the whores at the Vespers still enjoyed their sex, so it would be better to be an outright whore than to pretend when it comes to screwing.
I told Bruce he'd have to get somebody else when he got the sheep gang-bang and he wasn't angry. "I can get all the women I need," he said. And I didn't doubt him for one minute.
My babysitting days were about finished. People get suspicious when you're sixteen and still willing to tend squawling brats while your friends are dating. The husbands don't object, but wives get jealous when a nubile young girl gets to smiling at their man.
Still I needed money because I was determined not to touch my savings, so I tried being a car-hop after school down at Danny's Burger Barn. Met some nice guys and had lots of offers for sex, but everybody wanted to screw for love. No cash. And they only paid me a few dollars a week at the place while I ran my ass off. It was a helluva way to make a buck so I quit.
"What we gonna do, Paula?" I asked my friend when we met in the hall between classes.
"Gee, I dunno, Angie. Maybe we ain't never gonna make no money."
"Well I am, by hell! One way or another! I don't mean to end up hungry and bitter in some rundown apartment!"
Cash became an obsession with me, interwoven with sex. I watched my friends fuck in the back seat, or sneak into the broom closet at school to fuck between classes, and that was fine. Except that afterward, when their physical desire was accomplished, they seemed blank. Staring at a world that was hostile. Sex could only last a very short time and then they had to face the gloom of a cold world. Even the price of a hot dog was beyond most of them.
I saw two possibilities.
Either I had to marry a rich guy or I had to be a real pro like the women at the Vespers. There was little chance for me to break into the upper crust where all the money was kept, so that left one sure thing.
"You promised not to bother us again," the madam was upset when she saw me.
"Yes, I know, and I meant it. But I gotta learn a profession before I get too old."
"Honey you ain't never too old for sex. Why, I once had a girl named Madeleine.
Sixty-three years of age. And she made more money than any of us. She knew what to do."
"So teach me. Please?"
"You got guts, honey. Maybe we can do something for you after all."
"I'll pay you for the lessons."
"You can earn your keep as we go along, honey. But I gotta know one thing first. How do I know you ain't gonna get us in trouble? They could close me down in a hurry if you talked. You're still a minor you know."