(you were expecting maybe Elmer Fudd?)

It only makes sense to be nervous driving the most congested highways in the world. Like so many in LA, a preoccupied look on my face, maybe a little worried, eyes darting fitfully to try to see trouble coming. There's lots of potential trouble on these roads. They're armed, for Christ's sake.

I've developed this habit of thinking about whats happening to me as if I were going to write a story about every day. It made me realize that each car contained another soul, similar jagged thought lines firing through their minds, different concerns, different abilities, but each one focused on themselves. It seemed like an appropriate idea in this city that, according to legend, is the home of sybarritic egotism.

What I was principally worrying about was giving up my identity. For three years, ever since premature retirement, with a golden parachute and the whole nine yards, I'd been writing porn for the Net. A lot of it sat on my disk, because aside from the E-zine that had gotten me here, I still hadn't found any sort of revenue producing way to use it. It's not that good. When, within three months of my column's introduction on "Freaky", someone had actually wired ten grand in exchange for the rights to "Interlude with the Vampire", I had been amazed. But they never even proposed that I get involved in the screenplay or anything. Six months later, the E mail from Jim suddenly ratcheted up the risk of losing my anonymity.

Hi Whiff... No fucking shit... They want you to come to LA to consult on your vampire thing. Two grand a fucking day. I always knew you hid it in you. ASAP, they say... Tackman

Hi Tackman... Surely you jist jest... Whiff

Hi Whiff... And screw you too... No, they're hot to trot. This afternoon if you can make it. Look call me, I promise not to trace the call, but they're really on my case. They give me shit for not knowing who you really are. I explained to them about the Net, and all that, so they said they'd preserve your secret... Hey I'm sirious, man. They're hot, and two grand a day!!!!!!!!!... Tackman

I had called him on a payphone twenty miles away, that's how paranoid I am. I suppose I should explain that Tackman has some problems with grammar and such, and I tended to give him a bad time about it. It was a sort of running joke between us. But he had told me once my column had boosted his "hits". I never have known how much, but he's been increasingly nice to me, so it must be substantial. Short, of course, of paying me any money.

It had been twenty years since I had been to Southern California, and thirty since I had driven in the city during my navy years. It really hadn't changed, to my eye. As I jolted out of my reverie, the exit I wanted went whipping by, but there was another just ahead, so I got off there and concentrated on finding the studio where I had been told the movie was being shot. When I tried to drive in, they gave me a bad time, so I told them "Look on your list for Whiff". They found it, but still gave me a dirty look as I screeched through. I think it was the rented car.

This was all new to me, of course. Because of that, and a natural paranoia, I parked and kind of snuck into the big warehouse, finding "Love of the Dead" filming in one corner, according to a ratty little guy I asked. I was supposed to see the director, Leslie Davis, but instead sort of slunk over to a wall, and watched the proceedings. It was chaos.

Maybe it would all have made sense if I had the least idea about what it was normally like, but it seemed to me there was constant yelling, people running around wildly, and in the brightly lit corner where a blond, pale looking, large breasted woman was lounging on a bed, filing her nails and chewing gum, a guy was pounding with a hammer to no great effect that I could see. That corner was surrounded by equipment and people. I heard a sudden wail of feedback through the mikes, which almost instantly quit. The guy with the hammer quit pounding. Soft music suddenly dominated the whole room, and suddenly I heard a hoarse, female voice. "And... action." All the activity stopped, the blonde tucked the file under the pillow, used the one hand she wasn't leaning on to pump up her tits, and as she started to smile, swallowed the gum. No kidding.

And then here came the vampire, in white tie and tails, creeping in a frail imitation of Bela Lugosi. One arm stretched out holding the black cape. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the fangs, a good two inches long, and this guy was leering comically. The girl was staring at him, she was better, struggling with the classic combination of horror and desire on her face. The trouble was, all I could remember was her swallowing the gum, and I started giggling. A kid standing next to me, working a piece of electronic equipment, heard me and he caught it too, until after ten seconds, the whole place was laughing.

I guess I should explain that my story was about a very modern bloodsucker, who seduced the girl until she ached for him to do her, any way he wanted. It tried to deliberately avoid the cliches, and there would have been no place in it for this kind of scene. So my sense of the absurdity of it included the realization that whoever wrote the screenplay had ignored my story, so I was wasting my time even being here, taking what I thought of as big risks.

Over the tittering, I heard "Cut", and suddenly this woman was in my face. Her brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, no make up, looked about thirty five, but pretty, in a silk blouse and jeans. Tight jeans. With barely concealed fury, she growled in a very menacing way "Who the fuck are you?" The whole place suddenly became silent. At first, I felt like a little kid again, getting chewed out by teacher. Then I felt my anger start, but tried to fight it back. Finally, with the thought that this woman looked vaguely familiar, I just grinned and said "The author. Whiff."

That threw her. I saw her register surprise, then the anger returned. She grunted "Oh", and suddenly she started to grin. "Yeah, well shit. I... where do they get this crap? Fuck. That was going pretty well. I know it isn't what you wrote. I mean, what was so fucking funny?"

I paused for effect, then kind of gurgled "She swallowed the gum." Surprise again, then she started laughing, and the whole place erupted. The woman seemed to be releasing tension, and ended by leaning over, hands on knees, her head down, choking with laughter. Her shirt opened one button, I saw this nice big set of boobs hanging there, and recognized her. Its a guy thing. Ashley Shift. Long time porn star, whom I'd always thought was damned good looking, and radiated a certain intelligence in her movies. I wondered what she was doing here.

The whole thing lasted about a minute, then Ashley turned around and hollered "Okay, take your lunch break. This is the author. Be nice to him." Then she turned back and held out her hand. "I'm Leslie Davis." I must have registered surprise, because she smirked, and hissed "Okay, you recognize me. Well, fuck you, and remember I'm the director. They told me you haven't even seen the goddamn script. Wait a minute, I'll get it for you."

As I was standing there, the male actor came up to me, fangs still showing, and in this really serious way, asked me "What's this guy's motivation for his lust, in your conception? Enslavement, need for blood, sex, I mean, I don't really get it." He was trying to sound like he just got out of method acting school, it seemed to me. I said "He's hungry, man." The guy nodded wisely, and muttered "Thanks", then sort of slunk away, trying to look deep in thought. All I could think of was, this was a nut house. How in hell did a retired businessman who had been a straight arrow all his life get here? A porn star directing, a mental midget trying to play an overpowering vampire, and a female lead, who was a surgeon in my story, played by a bimbo.

Ashley came back, and in a very urgent way, asked me "Can you have lunch with me? We really have to talk." I shrugged assent, and the next ten minutes was a whirl of racing down these side streets in an open sports car, her muttering defamatory remarks about things I didn't understand, getting to a small restaurant, and getting seated with a lot of attention from the Maitre' de and this queer waiter. She ordered a Daiquiri, and I asked for a beer. She handed me a thick paper bound book, which I assumed, correctly, was the script, then grabbed my hand.

"Look, this is my first shot at something other than a skin flick. Honest to god, I know what I'm doing, but this script is worse than some of my films. Your story was neat, sexy, really turned me on. You'll see, the guy kept some of it in this", tapping the script, "but lost the whole essence. My idea, read it this afternoon, then you and I watch the rushes from this first week tonight, then we talk until morning, if we have to. Now look, it's meant to be cable, you know, a little pussy hair, lots of tit, lots of fucking, but we can't keep the motherfucking thing. The guy came up with the neighbor boy, and that can work." In my story, the vampire eventually had his daughter seduce the woman's son, and they ended up in incest. "So, how about tonight? If I'm gonna turn this thing around, we have to move fast."

I was staring at her breasts. I kept trying to think of what sort of bra she had on, because the nipples were outlined in the silk of her blouse, but straps were evident on her shoulders. I was trying to do it subtly, but still had a hardon better than anything for ten years. Her casual nasty language kept jangling me, but part of my mind was wondering still about whether this was fruitless, stupid, risky. She let go my hand, and gave a little cough of frustration. "Look, asshole, I've fucked my way this far, and if you help me, I'll do anything you want. In this town, it's par for the course. I mean, what's one more? You're a nice looking guy, but older than I thought. Where are you from? Oh yeah, you wanna be anonymous. Look, how about it? We can watch the rushes three buildings up from the studio."

So there I was, forty five minutes after arriving at the studio, trying to sort out the facts: the director hated the script, the whole crew knew it was crappy, except the leading man, it had been her idea to get me here, she'd fuck me if I helped her. It was soft core porn, which I had always figured anyway. So far, no one seemed inclined to try to pierce my alias. Two grand a day. What to do?

Yeah, sure. Tough call, huh? I'd only seen a couple of her films, but she was a stone fox. I'd used the line in a couple of my stories. Men are just fools at the end of a cock. They think with the little head.

Two

It was an exhausting night. She had about ten minutes filmed, and I thought about five minutes were usable. The female had terrific boobs, and wasn't that bad an actor. It would be tough to be intelligent convincingly for her, but she had a sensuality that I thought was just right. She could be a nurse, maybe, or an Executive Secretary. The man was handsome in the right way, and looked the part, until he opened his mouth. The bedroom scene had been finished that afternoon, while I was reading the script, and was truly ridiculous. The guy had changed it because a bar scene required too many extras. I couldn't fathom how he got to the tailcoat if he had read my story.

Once Ashley talked me out of the bar, I suggested the idea of just an evening walk with a blind date, you could show them meeting at her door, then a drive, maybe entering a restaurant, where the vampire first sees her, then he grabs her up during an after dinner walk. We just kept on, laying out a whole new story, and I would make up dialogue as we replotted the thing. Ashley kept audio taping it, until about three she was satisfied.

Her language got worse as the night lengthened. "You're fucking smart, you know that. It's like you've always done this horseshit, damn I'm glad I talked those assholes into this, look, let me call you something besides Whiff, okay? Whiff, that's pussy turds. Besides, it doesn't fit you. Come on." She liked Bill.

By now, this tiny little studio we had been working in, nothing like those nice big mini theaters you see in movies, was strewn with two bottles of white wine, a lot of empty coffee cups, and a pizza box turning cruddy under the screen. I was pretty fresh, still on eastern time. She was sunken eyed, her hands trembled, and she would alternate between nodding off, and hyper. The last couple of hours, I wasn't so sure she was even functioning, but she wouldn't hear of quitting, until I got the idea about making the female lead's life long partner a woman, so they had a lesbian relationship. It tied a lot of things together, and Ashley's mind picked that up immediately.

"Fuck. That's terrific. Then Brad's daughter seduces the both of them. More work for the two girls, you haven't seen them yet, but they can do this. And the neighbor boy shrinks, which is good 'cause he's a real putz." Her eyes were in a bright phase, and she looked at me with a smile. "You're a shittin' lifesaver, Bill. Want a blow job?"

By this time, I had gotten to like her. She was coarse, bright, obsessed with her movie, and I found we thought a lot alike. I like that in a woman. "C'mon babe, I appreciate the offer, and you bet your ass I want a blow job." (It's catching, cussing.) "But not tonight, I'm tired, excited, and, ummm, I'd like to be fresh when you and I get it on." She laughed delightedly, and asked how old I was. She said she had thought younger than fifty two, but then sat down on my lap. She nuzzled at my ear, and I felt myself stiffening. "It's okay, darling. It's okay. A lot of these assholes like to act like studs, but are really total duds. You'd be surprised. Some of 'em like to get their press people to promote their affairs, even though the best they can manage is beating off. Don't worry..."

I had thought she was leading up to something, but she was falling asleep. I sat there for five minutes, looking into her relaxing face on my shoulder, seeing all that aggressiveness, obsession, and intensity fade into a soft, pretty smile. I reached behind her and felt around for how she kept her hair pulled back, finding it was just a couple of barrettes. When I pulled them out, her hair puffed out around her face, increasing the illusion of youthful innocence. In truth, in that moment, I was a little bit in love with her. Her eyes opened sleepily, and she kissed me, lightly, softly.

Then she pulled back and stared at me. She sighed, and whispered "Remember darling, I'm an ex porn star, ex stripper, ex high priced call girl. Just cause we both want to be something else is no reason to go nutty. Okay? Oh shit." She kissed me hard, mouth open, her tongue seeming to light fires in my mouth, sucking urgently. Just about as I was starting to get into it, she jumped up with her back to me, and started to cry. I knew she was wired, probably had taken something to stay awake, but still got up and wrapped her in my arms. I'm a lot taller than she is, and it was like cradling a daughter, though that wasn't exactly my mind set. Not even close.

Finally, she shook her head, and mumbled "Shit. Gotta go home. C'mon, I gotta lock up. Where's your car, oh yeah, well." I responded "Ashley, are you sure you can drive? I can drop you off. Really." She got mad, and rasped "Don't be fucking smart, Billy boy, I've been here before, it's all bullshit. Call me fucking Leslie." Then I saw her face register the hurt in my eyes, regret jolted her, and she threw herself at me. "I'm all fucked up, Whiff. All fucked up. You weren't supposed to be so nice. I figured smart, but not... such a classy gentleman. Oh god, god."

She was wriggling against me, her tits, her hips. She felt my cock rising into her belly, and giggled. She looked up at me, pecked me on the lips, then ran for her car. Over her shoulder, I heard "You're gonna get laid, babe. Just not tonight."

Three

I slept through two wake up calls, and got to the studio by eleven. They had closed the set, and I was having trouble getting in until the kid who worked the sound system walked by and whispered in the uniformed guard's ear, and he stepped back, said "Excuse me, Mr. Whiff." and I walked in. They were filming the initial sex scene. I heard Ashley yelling "No, no, no, shit. Cut." Then she screamed.

The two leads were lying on the bed, the man on top, covered with a sheet from the waist down. Red liquid was leaking from the man's mouth onto the woman's tits. They were impressive tits. You could see the telltale signs of implants though, on the sides where the flesh rippled unnaturally. Both were staring at Ashley as she continued to scream. Then she saw me, and ran over into my arms. She held me tight, as she mumbled "Where the fuck were you, Bill? I thought... Well, look, tell that asshole how he's supposed to do it. He kept asking for you. Where's the author? What's my motivation? Shit."

I cuddled her against me for a minute, then said "Hey babe, you must be exhausted. Go get a cup of coffee, or something, and I'll try, okay." She looked up at me, then bolted away. She looked gaunt, but had on a tight tee shirt, with no bra. I felt a pulse in my groin, and decided that was just the right mood. I walked over to the bed, just as a woman was cleaning up the red tits, wiping the man's mouth, and putting a little red capsule in the denture.

I asked her if she had any smaller fangs, of if she could cut down the size of those. She said she could, so I told her to do it. She looked over my shoulder, then left. I figured Ashley must have nodded. I concentrated on the two on the bed. It wasn't sexy now, even with those big boobs staring me in the face. I was trying to think how to get them to do it the way I had written it. "Listen, guys, this is supposed to be super erotic, okay? The best orgasm you've ever had, Betty. And a conquest for you, Ted. But you're used to it, so you have to be cool. A little smile, okay? She get's the big emotion here. No pain, no fear, Betty. So listen, try it for me that way. You've been humping her for a while, now show her your teeth, then suck her neck. A little shock, honey, then a smile. Right, right, no, no pal, not a big smile, just a little smirk, y'know, you're used to it. Go ahead. Yeah babe, yeah. No fear, just lust. Right, there you go, now a nice loud groan. Keep humping Ted. It's terrific, terrific. Betty, you arch up, keep going, it lasts a long time, yeahhh, yeahhh, yeahhhh..."

I had been bending down, sort of talking into their ears. As they continued to writhe there, I pulled up the sheet, and realized he was actually fucking her, a nice size cock thrusting in and out. I mumbled "Shit, pull it out, pal. Don't cum, for christ's sake. Save it for the shot." I could see they were both hot now, into it. I looked around, and Ashley was signalling the camera, and the lighting. I left the sheet off, and pulled Betty's knees up just enough to hide her pussy and his cock. The make up girl came running over, but I shook my finger at her, and she stopped. I whispered to Ashley as I backed away "Shoot it, babe. They're tuned up good. Get the fangs and the blood later."

She whispered into the silent room "Action" and Betty got a little smile on her face, as they started fucking again. She was almost whimpering "Ooooh, yeah, yeah," as Ted humped into her. He was a better fucker than an actor. That figures, I suppose. Couldn't be worse. I led them through it again, and they were terrific, it looked for all the world like they had orgasms together, and when he buried his head in her neck, she went wild, which was part imagination, and part a really good nut. "Keep your head there, sucking, let her cum and cum." I whispered, and it looked great to me. I looked at Ashley, and she was breathing hard, and her face was red.

I heard somebody mutter "Jesus fucking christ." It echoed in the huge room. Then Ashley whispered "Cut." There was a big sigh of relief from everyone, and Betty let her head loll to the side. I said "Quick, quick. Shoot her face, babe." Ashley dragged the cameraman over, and they caught the girl alone, from above, the post coital look on her face very pretty. I grabbed the makeup girl, got the red capsule, and broke it over her heaving tits. I didn't let too much drip, but when Betty felt it, she jumped slightly, and her smile broadened. It was perfect.

Ted was staring down at her, and I reached a red hand over to his mouth and smeared a little on. "Now shoot him, babe." Ashley never stopped the film, just panned to Ted. He started to leer. I murmured "No, no, just a real tiny smile, pal. Keep your mouth shut, you don't have any fangs. Right. Now lick your lips." He did, then ten seconds later grimaced at the taste of the stuff. Ashley mumbled "Fuck."

She pulled the camera slowly back from the two, who were just lying there, relaxing. The whole thing had seemed very sexy to me, but I had no idea whether it would translate that well to film. Also, I have a mildly deviant mind, so I like weird stuff. I sat down, realizing how tense I had been, in the director's chair, as I heard Ashley breathe "Okay, cut. Oh boy, print that quick. I gotta see it." Then, at the top of her lungs, trying to break the spell, "Lunch."