Chapter 5

“It’s going to depend on whether it interferes with school or my business, and whether my mother and business manager agree,” I warned. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

Forty minutes later, we were all seated in the corner of a nearby diner. I’d invited Dawn and Nancy along, too, since I still had a bet to collect on--not that they seemed upset about paying it.

At the end of the meeting, all that remained was to see if Pam and I could get out of school for four weeks. The shoot would be in Europe, and I was needed for the chase and stunt scenes in London, Paris, Rome, and Madrid. The movie was about the kidnapping of the President’s son, and the attempt to hold him hostage and force the US to comply with the kidnapper’s demands.

The son learns that there is more to the plot than meets the eye. A small handful of US agents who work for the Chinese are involved, hoping to use the distraction to smuggle a piece of top-secret military hardware out of the country for Chinese officials. Using techniques he learned when he was younger and learned magic tricks, he escapes in London and chases after the agents who have the stolen hardware.

Dennis agreed to meet us at school Monday morning to talk to the principal. He assured us they would provide a tutor so we could keep up with our studies. I’d have to talk to Andrew. Since he had previous experience running his own landscaping business, I hoped he could cover for me during the time we were gone. My grandparents accepted my invitation to join us--if we went--even though they’d already been to Europe.

Granddad told me later that it was probably a good idea for him to go. An old friend of his had been a stunt driver, and told stories of how exhausted he was at the end of each day. I might not have the energy to tend to the needs of my women properly.

Until we left, Dennis would provide someone to work with me on the different driving stunts I’d need to do, but most of it would be similar to what I’d just done during the demonstration. Starting next week, every Saturday and Sunday would include several hours of driving.

“Can you do anything else?” he asked when we were just about finished. I shook my head.

“He knows martial arts,” one of his bodyguards commented; the one who had given me the hawk-like stare. He’d been introduced only as Conrad.

“How do you know that?” the producer asked.

“Because I watch and evaluate everyone approaching you. When I saw him, I saw his smooth, balanced strides. He was ready to respond to anything at any moment. When he saw me watching him, he perceived a potential threat and moved his girlfriend behind him. She moved without concern or even questioning him, knowing he could protect her from whatever he saw,” he answered.

“How good are you?” Conrad asked.

“You should see what he did to the guy who tried to slap his mom,” Pam gushed. She pulled out her cell phone and showed him the video.

“That’s some pretty advanced shit,” Conrad commented about the disabling strikes, “at least black belt, probably more advanced,” he concluded. I nodded in concurrence. “He’s young enough that nobody would suspect him, but he might be better than me,” he explained.

Suddenly something flew at me from the direction of one of the other bodyguards. I glared at him after snatching his cell phone out of the air. “Sorry, just testing you,” the bodyguard apologized.

“Great!” the director exclaimed. “We were having a hard time finding someone the right size and body type to do martial arts stunts for Eric,” he said.

“Eric Coffman?” Pam asked excitedly.

The director nodded, but held his finger to his lips to prevent further outbursts. “We haven’t released that information yet,” he explained quietly.

“Anything else you’re good at?” he asked me teasingly.

“I mow a mean lawn,” I riposted.

“I imagine that you would, to be able to afford a car like that,” he chuckled.

When we left, my schedule now included driving and more martial arts instruction and practice. I’d spent too little time practicing martial arts this summer. Dealing with the acquisition of my new submissives and with expanding my business had left me far too little time for the training I knew I should be getting regularly. We drove home after reiterating that we would meet with the principal at school on Monday.

Dawn and Nancy followed us home. “You really don’t speed,” laughed Dawn when we parked. They followed us inside, nervously gauging the reactions of the adults.

Mom obviously noticed their reaction. “Do you kids want us to call you for dinner or wait until you’re all fucked out?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Let us know when dinner is ready and we’ll see what we’re doing,” I replied while Dawn and Nancy gawked.

“I wish our parents were so cool,” Dawn commented.

“Brian earned the trust by being honest with both his mom and mine,” Pam commented as we walked to her room. We couldn’t use the master bedroom because all five of us had clothes in there. Fifteen minutes later, I was balls deep in Nancy while Dawn and Pam were locked in a torrid 69. Nancy didn’t understand what I was doing at first when I rolled onto my side. Once I did, it was less than a minute before she was explaining to her stepsister at the top of her lungs what I was doing to her and that I’d better plan to do it again, soon. “Nnnnnoooooooooo,” she squealed when my lubricated finger violated her backside at the start of her orgasm. Her protest fell silent when she passed out.

“What did you do to her?” Dawn demanded.

“He made her pass out from coming so hard,” Pam giggled.

“But how?” she asked.

“If you’re a really naughty girl, I might show you,” I said in my best dirty-old-man voice. First, I washed my hands.

“How naughty do I have to be?” Dawn purred.

“This naughty,” Pam answered as she began licking my cum covered cock.

“Ooooohhhhh, absolutely sinful,” Dawn purred, joining Pam in licking me clean. Since I never went completely soft, they had no trouble getting me ready again. Dawn’s shriek of surprise when my finger invaded her backside finally woke Nancy up.

“I can’t believe you put your finger there,” Nancy sighed. “I also can’t believe how hard I came. Wow,” she sighed again contentedly.

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes if anyone is still alive,” Karen teased through a barely open bedroom door.

When we got to the kitchen, Dawn called home and got permission for her and Nancy to spend the night “at Pam’s house.” Janice assured their mother that she would be here all night to supervise the girls.

“I am so jealous,” Dawn told Pam after dinner. “Your boyfriend has his own business and he’s only sixteen. He has a kick-ass car, knows martial arts, drives like a stunt man, and now he gets to be in a movie.”

“Who cares about all that? I’m still not sure what he did to me earlier. It felt like he set off a charge of dynamite inside of me,” Nancy shuddered.

In the morning, the girls begged Pam to call them and let them come back again. I spent Sunday making up to my submissives for having to sleep without me last night. I also had to buy a new set of tires for the car and have them installed. The guy at the tire store looked at how worn the tires were after less than a year and started to apologize for the way they wore out. I waved off the apology, explaining how hard I’d abused them yesterday. Bruce had made a video of my four drag runs, and of the demonstration afterwards. The guy at the tire store asked me to show the video to everyone working there and then gave me a 25% discount on the tires.

Pam and I headed for class Monday morning, not knowing when the principal would be able to meet with us. It was a good thing we got there early. Pam had sent a copy of Bruce’s video to each of my former girlfriends and at least fifty other people in her huge collection of e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers. My parking place was surrounded by friends and well-wishers. The guys from auto shop class were all there and I thanked each of them for the work they did on the car as they high fived me.

We barely made it to class in time. As soon as the bell rang, Mrs. Green called me to the front of the class and handed me the chalk. “Mr. Bell, could you please explain the physics involved in making a high-speed right turn?” she asked. Her almost-suppressed grin let me know she wasn’t upset, just taking advantage of an opportunity.

Fortunately, the physics involved had been explained to us at the evasive driving class, so I explained about centrifugal force, centripetal force, torque, wind resistance, and coefficients of friction for asphalt, concrete, tires, and wet surfaces. “Nicely done,” Mrs. Green commented as I returned to my seat. Pam was beaming. Just before class ended, a runner came from the office. Mrs. Green looked at the notes before handing them to Pam and me, summoning us to the office immediately.

Both of our mothers and Mr. Breland the producer were there with Principal Woodson. I was surprised to learn that the two men had gone to college together. Mr. Woodson asked if we thought we’d be able to complete our homework in a timely manner. Pam and I both assured him that we would. The only problem would be if I was too physically exhausted at the end of a day to do my homework, but I promised to complete it as soon as possible.

Rather than have the tutor establish the curriculum, I suggested that we have one of our friends make a video of each of our classes and upload the videos to us every day. The producer agreed to provide the I-pads to record each class. Tests could be e-mailed to our tutor who would supervise us taking them, and would e-mail our finished tests back to the teachers.

“I guess we’re going to Europe,” I said, stunned. Pam squealed excitedly and started texting immediately. By lunch, everyone in school knew we were going to Europe. Since I was also doing martial arts stunts, we would leave here November 5. We were tentatively scheduled to return home the Monday after school got out for Christmas Break.

Unfortunately, Karen had to make a decision. She would have to stay home without us and continue her classes, or drop out and join us. We talked to her counselor and explained the situation. Considering the uniqueness of the opportunity, and the fact that she had made excellent grades so far, they agreed to let her drop this semester with no penalties and start again next semester. They still kept the money she paid for this semester, however.

Naturally, the ladies went berserk getting ready to go. The producer gave us a list suggesting things to take and things not to take.

That weekend the women hosted my seventeenth birthday party. My birthday had been Thursday, and they threw a private (and exhausting) party for me. For the official party, we had to fence off a large portion of the back yard to have room for everyone, yet keep them from wandering too far. The invitations insisted “no presents,” but several close friends brought one anyway.

Mom and Janice had a catering company provide hot dogs, hamburgers, salads, chips, and soda for eight hours. From the number of hands I shook, I think that most of the students from school dropped by for at least an hour or so. Pam let four of my old girlfriends each give me a private birthday present Friday evening. Knowing that none of them (that I knew of) was into girls, too, she didn’t insist on joining us.

I spent two evenings a week working with Rick, my new martial arts instructor from the studio. After the first week of practice, we began rehearsing fight scenes for the movie. Conrad stopped by the second week to spar against me. It was the best match I’d had since my old Sensei retired and we were both exhausted when we finished. “You’re like a fucking mongoose,” he gasped after we quit. “I never know if you’re feinting or getting ready to strike. Half the time I think you feint knowing you can still strike if you see the opening; and that fucking aerial scissor leg flip! I’ve never seen anything like it!” he exclaimed.

The move he was talking about was one I did when he tried to sweep my legs. I jumped, like he expected, and he was ready to attack where he thought I was going to end up. Instead, I twisted so that I was parallel to the ground, caught him between my legs, and used his and my momentum to flip him onto his back.

Once it was officially announced that Eric Coffman was starring in the movie, my hair was cut and styled just like his, and I had to have it bleached blonde. Some of the guys teased me about it until I told them I was making a hundred dollars an hour while I trained, and would make a minimum of eight hundred dollars a day while we were in Europe.

“Shit, that’s, that’s...” one of them commented. I could see him trying to do the math in his head.

“That’s nearly $35,000 for having to spend an all-expenses paid six weeks in Europe,” I teased. That stopped the teasing about my hair, not that it really bothered me.

My training continued. I learned how to “fight” for a movie scene. With my skill level and that of the person I would be fighting against (my instructor), our fights would be more like sparring than a typical staged fight, lending more realism to the film.

I spent weekends at the Fontana Speedway. The studio arranged to rent one of the parking lots and they did mock-ups of some of the streets where I would be doing stunts. The kicker would be the final chase scene. In that one, the bad guys would fire an RPG at my car (in the movie, not during my stunt). In the stunt, I would be trying to escape to the US Embassy. The car I was driving for that stunt had a large pneumatic air ram bolted inside the car where it was hidden from view.

When I hit my mark, I would trigger the ram. Triggering the ram would trigger an explosion under the car while the ram fired a piston at the ground that would flip the car into the air. The explosion (supposedly caused by an RPG) would hide the ram.

I was nervous as hell the first time I did it. The beat-up practice car had roll bars, a racing harness with a quick-release latch, a HANS device, and internal fire extinguishers. I drove through the course three times before performing the stunt. The first drive-through was at twenty-five miles an hour. The second was at fifty, and the third time I drove it at seventy the way I would when they filmed it. They actually filmed this one to see how it looked and to critique it. While the ladies held their breath and watched on the monitor the studio provided, I made the final run.

Time slowed to a crawl when I pushed the button to trigger the explosion and the ram. I heard the thunderous roar of the explosion and felt the car jerk into the air. It flipped perfectly, landed on its roof, and skidded for what seemed like an eternity. “Waaaaaahoooooooo!” I shouted into my headset radio once the car came to rest. Well, almost came to a rest. It still rocked a couple of times and creaked threateningly when it did. I heard several chuckles in reply through my earpiece. Then I made sure nothing on me was broken.

Just as I was supposed to, I waited for the rescue crew, hanging upside down until they arrived to help me out of the car. I must admit; I was a bit unsteady on my legs for several minutes after they helped me out of the car, and my hands shook for several more minutes. The rescue crew said that it was from the adrenaline rush. Aside from a few more scrapes and dents on the car, though, it didn’t look any different. The stunt director congratulated me when I got over to him. He’d already reviewed the film and hoped the actual stunt came off as good.

There was actually an unofficial going away party at school for Pam and me on November 4. Many of the kids had been driving to Fontana to watch some of my practices. Several made cell phone videos of the car flipping and the videos had been widely circulated among the students who didn’t go. Our flight left LAX at 2:30 Thursday afternoon. Thank God, we were in first class. Being cooped up on the plane for ten and a half hours was extremely mind and butt numbing.

Someone managed to expedite our trip through customs at Heathrow which saw us out of the airport about an hour after our arrival on Friday. Rick, my martial arts instructor met us there with a chauffeur and a limousine for my grandparents and the ladies. The first thing I noticed was that they drove on the wrong side of the road! “Oh, shit,” I groaned. Rick just laughed at me when I explained the comment. Everyone else was taken to the hotel to check in, where we would meet them later.

Rick whisked me away in a cab to the studio they were using. It took an hour of stretching for me to work out the kinks and stiffness from the flight. Then I had to have my hair styled and bleached again. Next, I had to suffer through make-up and wardrobe. Fortunately, they had previously taken my measurements and already had me try on the finished garments, so everything was ready.

Five hours after landing, we began our final practice for the scene we would be shooting later this evening. An hour later, Rick told the stunt director that we were ready. The stunt director told Roy, the second-unit director, and he called for everyone to get ready to film.

I hadn’t expected the bright lights when we were finally ready. I “made my escape” from the second-floor room where the bad guys supposedly held me (read: I opened the door and pretended to sneak out), and worked my way stealthily down the hall to the top of the stairs. There, I had to fight the two posted guards and quickly overpowered them. Near the bottom of the stairs, exactly four steps from the bottom where the step was marked with green tape, I flipped another guard over the banister and continued my escape. I was relieved when I heard the whoosh of air behind me signifying that he landed on the inflated pad I was supposed to throw him onto. Just inside the front door, Rick and I had our staged fight. We’d rehearsed it enough that it went off perfectly--at least I thought so.

“Cut,” someone shouted just as I made my way through the front door.

Roy reviewed the footage, and then decided that he wanted one of the two guards at the top of the stairs to go over the banister, too. That meant working out a new fight scene, running through it several times, and getting a second air bag inflated and positioned. After the third consecutive time that I successfully deposited the correctly weighted dummy onto the air bag properly, we did it for real and filmed it. Gratefully, the director liked that take and we wrapped for the day.

“Nicely done,” Rick commented. He explained that many newbies get nervous and miss their marks or screw up the fight scene. Then they whine when the director doesn’t like it and wants it done again or wants something changed.

“Hey, I’m getting paid by the hour, and it sure beats the hell out of pushing a lawnmower around,” I riposted. I’d barely eaten any of the snacks and finger food that had been available all day because I was too nervous. When we met everyone for dinner, I was ravenous. They wanted to hear all about my day, laughing because I had to wear makeup. They had spent the day being tourists and shopping. Pam promised that they didn’t spend everything I earned today, but hinted that they had come close.

Hans, the special effects director, met us at breakfast the next day and wondered if I might know how to fly a helicopter. “Jet fighters, too,” I joked in jest. An hour later, I was at a small airport outside of London getting a crash (I hoped it wasn’t meant literally) course in flying a helicopter.

Having played a video game that simulated flying a helicopter, I wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the controls--just mostly unfamiliar with them and scared shitless since these were real and weren’t like the controls my gaming console had. By the end of the very long day, I could take off, hover briefly, fly in a drunken circle around the airport, and land, albeit slightly wobbly.

Fortunately, I didn’t know that they had been taping my efforts, both from inside and from outside of the helicopter. That would have made me even more nervous. They got enough footage to show what looked like the star supposedly doing just what I’d been doing--using video game experience to attempt the real thing. I was amazed that so many of the shots didn’t show the instructor, but then I remembered how he had leaned as far to the opposite side of the cockpit as he could.

Sunday morning we did the first chase scene through London, taking advantage of Sunday’s slightly reduced traffic volume. There were police everywhere blocking access to the streets as we raced down them. I had to concentrate to stay on the left side of the road and I was glad that the car was already on the correct side when I climbed in. It was eerie steering from the opposite side of the car than I was used to. The director decided to re-do three of the short scenes, changing them so I had to make more turns to make the scenes more dramatic. I was proud of myself that I only thought about driving on the right-hand side of the road once.

Afterwards we went to a large estate to shoot. I was a bit unnerved when they gave me a Kevlar vest under the fire suit they always insist that I wear during a vehicle stunt. They explained that the car windows would be shattered with small explosive packets to make it look like bullets hitting the car and shattering the windows as I escaped from the estate where the protagonist was held.

Three times, I drove down the center of the long, curved driveway and through the open gate. As I drove, a pop ... pop ... pop played in my earpiece to let me know when the explosive packets on the windows would go off. That was to help me get used to when to expect them. When I drove the beat-up practice car to ram the closed front gate to actually experience it, they used the explosive packets to blow out the windows. I felt and heard several pieces of the glass (it was made from sugar) hit my shoulders and helmet as I drove. Hitting the gate was truly a unique experience. There was a green mark on the hood of the car, invisible to the cameras in and around the car. That mark was my “gun sight” for where to hit the lock of the gate so it would fly open properly.

Feeling as if I was as ready as I was going to be, we made the run for real. When the windows didn’t blow out, I skidded to a stop just before hitting the gate so they didn’t have to re-set the gate again. That would have taken another hour to set back up.

The pyrotechnic guys found the problem--a dead battery--and rectified it. The rain that had been threatening all day started when I was halfway down the driveway of this run. The rain was light enough that I continued. This time the windows all blew out the way they should. I had to make a minor adjustment due to skidding on the surface of the driveway, but hit the front gate and still managed the turn onto the road, only to suddenly realize that I had turned onto on the wrong side of the road. I quickly rectified my error.

“Cut!” I heard in my earpiece, and then the stunt director and Roy were both congratulating me through the earpiece. When the rain started, they were worried that I’d have to stop and we’d have to come back another day. Fortunately, part of my evasive driving training had been on a wet course to simulate driving in the rain. Both of them even liked that I’d initially turned onto the wrong side of the road, adding a small bit of realism to the film that they hadn’t previously considered.

Each night I was dead tired and barely managed to get my homework finished and satisfy one of the girls before falling asleep. If my attention didn’t need to be on an upcoming shoot each day, I did as much of my homework on the set as I could while I was waiting. Monday it rained all day. We still went to the next two locations and slowly drove several times through what I’d be doing. We’d have to wait for the rain to stop and the roads to dry out before doing the shoots, though.

We drove through the wet routes again several times Wednesday. The rain stopped shortly after noon and the forecast was for no rain for two days. The director hoped we could finish both scenes in two days. I drove through both routes two more times before it started getting dark.

The special effects crew worked all Wednesday afternoon getting everything ready. It was mid-morning Thursday before the dampness on the road dried enough to satisfy the stunt director. They’d even hired a truck like the ones used to dry racetracks when it rains. There was still enough residual dampness on the road that it took me three tries to get the high-speed run right. The director decided that he liked my first attempt the best since I almost crashed three times and it looked more realistic than the final “perfect” attempt. With that, the special effects crew headed for tomorrow’s shoot to set up, leaving the flunkies to take down what was here. I went back to our hotel, ate dinner, did my homework, made love to Pam and Karen, and crashed by 9:00.

After a week, I apologized to the ladies for not having more time with them. I explained that I’d hoped the trip would be more romantic.

“Brian, you wanting us to be here with you was the romantic part,” Janice replied. The others echoed her sentiment.

“We knew you would be working. We didn’t quite realize how many hours you’d be working, but we understand,” Pam added.

“I don’t mean for this to sound mean,” Mom chuckled, “but welcome to the adult world. Now you have a better understanding of why the dinners Mrs. Grimes fixed, and the help you gave me around the house were so appreciated,” Mom explained.

“I feel bad that I didn’t help more,” I admitted.

“You did a lot more than any other teenage boy I know about. All my friends are insanely jealous that you kept your room clean, did the laundry, took out the trash, and took care of the yard without being nagged,” she chuckled.

They assured me that Granddad was seeing to their special needs.

That Sunday, even though I was too exhausted to watch the race, Bruce won the last race of the season and with it, the championship. Pam watched it for me, and even called Mrs. Grimes after the race. Pam told me right before I crashed (sleeping) that Bruce was leading with thirty laps to go.

All that remained to do Monday was a retake of the fight scene at the top of the stairs. Evidently, the shadow of a boom microphone ended up in the picture. We were through well before noon but had to go over and check with Mr. Powell to make sure. If he was satisfied, I would be on call for the next two days but would probably not be needed.

Mr. Powell was in a foul mood. I felt like buying him a box of tampons, but the mood he was in would have made it a dangerous proposition. He was criticizing everyone about everything, and I could tell the actors and stagehands were all walking on eggshells lest they do anything to piss him off further. “Is he always like this?” I quietly asked Roy.

“No, and this will blow over in a couple of days. He’s just pissed because the girl they signed to play the French girl who helps out in Paris went skiing and broke her leg--even though she wasn’t supposed to go,” he whispered back.

“How much French do they need to know?” I queried.

“None; they just need to be able to speak English with a heavy French accent. He’s mainly pissed because one of the studio bigwigs insisted on giving the part to his niece. Warren hates using the relatives of some big mucky muck,” he answered.

“You’ve seen Pam, would she do?” I asked.

“Can she fake a French accent, remember lines, and not freeze up in front of a camera?” he asked.

“Hell if I know,” I replied, and we walked off the set so I could call Pam.

“I should warn you that she’ll have to kiss Eric Coffman,” Roy said nervously.

“She’d love that,” I laughed. “She’s been after me to get his autograph.”

“You’re not worried about it?” he asked, curious.

“Nah, neither of us would do anything like that,” I answered.

Pam answered her phone on the second ring. It was a good thing I was outside; her squeal nearly broke my eardrum and I still wasn’t sure they didn’t hear it inside the soundproofed studio. The women were shopping when I called, but should be here in forty-five minutes.

Pam launched herself at me when she was close enough, much to the amusement of everyone nearby. Roy interviewed her for half an hour, and then had her do a screen test--after spending two hours getting her hair and make-up done.

He was impressed with her screen test, and took Warren aside later in the afternoon. They approached us together after watching her screen test and I could see the way he was evaluating Pam as he approached. “Are the two of you okay with this?” he asked Janice and me.

Janice nodded and then I answered, “I’m probably not going to appreciate watching it, but I’d be a lousy boyfriend if I didn’t let her take the opportunity to kiss the guy whose picture is probably on the bedroom walls of half of the girls in America,” I answered.

He gave me a serious look. “With an unknown actress, we’re going to be releasing teasers to create public interest in the film. There will probably be wildly exaggerated stories in a couple of the rag mags about the two of them having a secret affair,” he warned.