NORTH NORTH HOLLYWOOD - Chapter 25 -by Peter Nolan Smith

TWENTY-FIVE

The 10' by 20' room in the back of the low-rent sound stage hummed with the rising crescendo of moans from the naked women linked in a classic daisy chain of multiple 69 position and the two bearded cameramen focused their Super 8mm video cameras on hands, tongues, lips, breasts, thighs, vaginas, but never the faces, since the audience for the 69-FEST III was not interested in the participants' identities, only action and action was exactly what Louie Sinreich Productions would provide.
The video had no plot, only sex sequences between anonymous women of every type. No viewer would have to fast-forward through dialogue, since the girls, mostly first-timers, had no lines. Everything was going perfectly, until one girl screamed, "God, oh, yes. God."
"Cut. Cut. Cut. Hey, like it's been a long day, but how many times do I have to tell you? No 'Oh God.' or 'Fuck me, God.’” Louie screamed, jumping to his feet.
The guilty party, a slender secretary from Sherman Oaks, lowered her head and said, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, just don't do it again.” Louie breathed deeply and looked in her eyes like he really cared. "I have enough problems without getting the religious fanatics on my case for blasphemy, so just moan and groan. Got it, girls?"
"Yes, Mr. Sinreich," the naked women murmured collectively, as if they were involved in a synchronized swimming scene rather than of a lesbian orgy. Louie suspected some of them would have performed for free to have a stab at being in the movies, but he was paying them the scale of $250 a day and expected them to perform like they were swimming for shore.
"Now, girls, act like this is the best sex you've ever had and all you want is more, more, more. In two minutes I'll give you a signal and then I want you all to 'cum' in a chain reaction.” After signaling the cameramen to resume filming, Louie said with phony enthusiasm, "Okay, girls, let's go for it. Camera, light action."
Normally the producer would have relegated the direction of this video to some flunky, however he had made an exception for his special guests, Bob Olsen and Ur Bell. The producer pretended to dive into the maelstrom of bodies and turned around to see the two geeks mesmerized not the by real women just out of reach, but with the carnal imagery on the closed-circuit monitors. Shaking his head in disbelief, Louie checked his watch and said aloud, "Okay, girls, it's blast-off time."
The feverish gasping and accelerated panting reverberated against the studio's thin walls, while the cameramen caught the best of this frenzied female free-for-all, which for the most part was stock pussy-bumping for Louie, however Alice Bebadd's eyes being glazed with lust and her wanton shuddering was no act. He waited for her to finish, then shouted, "Okay, girls. CUT. You have a break for five minutes."
The room was immediately filled by the sound of females regaining their breath, for most of these newcomers had been unprepared for how strenuous a XXX video could be, but Alice Bebadd was already up on her feet, reveling in the tingle in her body.
As the women filed out of the studio to the bathroom or to smoke a cigarette, Louie asked the men from Sausalito, "So what did you think?"
Ur Bell's face was whiter than normal and Bob Olsen nervously rubbed his hand, as if they were scared their mothers might find them here. Draping his arm over Bob Olsen's shoulder Louie whispered, "You know, dudes, most of these girls would do anything you asked."
"I'm sure they would.” Bob admitted without being able to look at any of the women directly.
"See one out there you like?"
"Not really.” Isaac Conti had understood their not being in this for just the sex, however he had disappeared and one of their compatriots at Livermore had threatened to go to the Attorney General, unless he got some money to pay off his credit card debts, so they had had to turn to the devil for help. Hopefully they would only have to sell their souls and not their invention.
"Really, well I want you to watch the little redhead in the next scene. I think we could use her to test your invention."
"We told you before,” Olsen spoke without looking at Louie. "We only want Lena de Gama."
"What difference does it make?” Louie asked, hiding the irritation in his voice.
"Just that....ah, that...."Bob stammered, uncomfortable with admission of his idolatry of the young starlet, but he blurted out, "We consider Lena de Gama a goddess. These other women are nothing in comparison. Sure, we could use them, but neither of us can guarantee the results. It's all very technical."
Louie Sinreich had dealt with plenty of eggheads over the years and no one blew him off with the word 'technical'. "That's bullshit. The truth of the matter is that you had a 'thing' for Lena de Gama. Am I right?"
Bob Olsen and Ur Bell nodded in agreement, then Bob avowed, "Both of us have taken a vow of celibacy. No sex, until the harness, the program, and the ideal female subject are together. The subject being Lena de Gama."
"That's a great sacrifice, boys.” The sex they were talking about was only with themselves, but the fat boy's stubbornness brought out the schoolyard bully in the producer and his hand tightened on Bob's shoulder, so his fingers dug under the tendons. "But why don't we go ahead? I'll give you that money you need, set up a 'lab', and we'll sign a contract, something standard to protect our mutual interests."
"Yeah, but how do you know you can get her?” Bob asked, cringing with pain.
"Tell you what. Like I'm this close to getting Lena de Gama. The moment I get her, she swing into action, so we need to have everything online ready to go. I mean our window of opportunity might not be that long. So what do you say?"
Bob looked over to Ur. Without Isaac Conti they really didn't have much of a choice, so the silent inventor nodded and Bob said, "We'll go your way, but all bets are off, if you can't get Lena."
"I wouldn't have it any other way.” Louie had already had a lawyer draw up a special ironclad contract to lock up SINSEX forever and he released his grip on Bob's shoulder, as his cellular phone vibrated inside his jacket. "Excuse me, boys. I have to take this call."
He withdrew from the sound stage to the outer corridor and looked at the number on ID calling. It wasn't anyone he knew, so he put his phone to his ear and asked, "Yeah, what is it?"
"Having a tough day, huh?" Tony 'The Toe' Tannucci demanded over a scratchy connection worsened by the money man's tobacco-thickened voice.
"No, no, everything's under control. Just the usual headache of shooting a video with ten naked girls. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it, right?"
No laughter came from the other end. Tony was all business.
"So to what do I owe the privilege of this call?” Louie asked.
"I got a question for you."
"Shoot." Louie hoped it wasn't his wanting to horn in on his project with the two geeks.
"You seen or heard from Isaac Conti lately?"
Louie quickly realized Tony was cold-calling him and the fat man had probably ruined twenty other people's day trying to sucker them into spilling their guts, but Louie was too smart to fall for that trick, especially since he was guilty and answered "Like not since the Awards evening in Vegas."
"If you see him, let me know."
"Sure.” Louie answered, and when the line went dead, warmth slowly crept into Louie's heart. He thought to himself, "If it isn't one thing, then it's another."
Tony 'The Toe' Tannucci was searching for Old Man Conti. The whiz kids only wanted a lesbian who didn't do it with men. The bitch was out of town. A cop hooked on heroin was in his basement. His partner was coming west. The problems just kept piling up; the money he owed them, the money he needed to finance the invention, the burnt house in Hollywood, Che's running out, the blonde mystery man on and on and on. Sometimes he felt, as if he was juggling bowling balls of razor wire.
When the younger cameraman popped his shaggy head out the studio door and informed him the girls were getting restless, Louie said, "Tell them to cool their jets and send out the skinny redhead, Alice."
"The one with the small tits?"
"That's her.” Louie waited for Alice, who wore a towel around her thin waist. "You want to see me, Louie?"
"Yeah, you were great in that last segment.” A little flattery went a long way in this business. "Normally I don't rush anyone into anything, unless the camera tells me to and the camera isn't lying about you, Alice. You ready for something special?"
"What do you want from me?” Alice was an eager volunteer.
"I want you to be a star,” Louie said, then whispered what he wanted from her. His suggestion did not repulse the girl, though she did say, "I'm pretty small back there."
"Which is why I want you to take this.” Louie presented his protégé with a quasi-aphrodisiac, Captagon, plus a bootleg Quaalude for a muscle relaxant. "These will make it easier. I'll give you an extra $300. Keep this to yourself, then after this scene we can go back to my place. How does that sound?"
"Whatever you want, Louie.” You put the stars in their eyes and everyone, whether in Hollywood or over the hills in the porno trade, will do almost anything to get their names up in lights.
"You're my girl." Louie watched, as Alice went over to the water cooler to pop the two pills.
The Captagon would hit first, rendering the farm girl into a spectacle worth two cameras.
Back inside the studio Louie clapped his hands. "Okay. girls, breaktime's over. It's back to Showtime and I want you all to turn up the volume. Remember. We're not making a mayonnaise commercial here. Who's ready to be a star?"
Every face in the naked circle said, "Me."
"Good." Louie answered, for he was not in the mood to accept anything less than their bests. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not never, because this was show business and no one got anywhere without giving it their all.