Chapter 13

This was the way the opening scenes worked out: the woman came out of the bathroom brushing her hair. She was naked, of course, not wearing a robe like most women would have. She puts down the brush and stands in front of the closet, finally selecting a white dress with a black belt and collar. The top is low-cut, even for a 'sweetheart neckline'. Her boobs wobble as she takes a pair of shoes from a shoe rack. She doesn't bend over, that would be just a touch to blatant.

Her husband is in the other room. She pulls up her dress while he gets out his rigid cock. They do it, and when they're done (it's quick with many cuts to imply it took longer, then she smooths her dress down, he tucks himself back in, and off they go.

They both have sex at the office, he with an admin, she with her boss. When they get home they go out right away, meet a couple, and have sex switching partners.

We took the plots from "Leave it to Beaver" and "Donna Reed". Other people would talk, have a drink, or something mundane. They, and the people around them, had sex.

I didn't like it. Neither did upper management. After viewing it a second time, Joe agreed with me. Kate allowed herself to be outvoted, and that killed it.

We'd done a second pilot, more because we had the actors and set lined up. By making the second pilot we put them to good use without wasting money. This one was directly modeled on my life, only without Liz.

This one management loved. There was a lot less sex, except that when we did, there was a lot of it. People liked the orgy scenes; we'd gotten a first-rate cameraman and top of the line director to work on it. They also liked how everything could be nice and "normal" until the clothes came off. I could almost feel myself there.

Management ordered 13 episodes, with an option for 13 more. Sponsors began lining up. Within two months we a hit. It wasn't just the adult sex, either, fans liked the teen sex, the way things shifted from "normal to a raunchy orgy. I won't say they identified with the characters, but they began getting fan mail, and websites sprang up focusing on them.

I'd been doing all right in the money department; now I was doing spectacularly well. That was nice, but I really enjoyed the critical success. Shows focusing on sex, or having a strong sexual element are not supposed to get favorable cortical reviews. We did because we insisted on plot and character development. What a concept.

I was fixing myself a sandwich from the buffet that's put out on each set when a guy came up to me. "I have an idea for a show," he said, "and I wanted your feedback."

This wasn't the first time this had happened, but I was willing, you never know when lightning's going to strike. "go ahead."

"First, no sex. Second, no putting down the Dad or anything like that."

"Give me the pitch."

"Someone wins the Super Lotto for a bunch of money, some serious money, and the show focuses on their struggles to keep life "normal" for their kids."

"How old are the kids?"

"Ten or so."

"So no snarky teenagers who are far too shallow and far too immature."

He nodded.

"Might be. It's different."

"You mean you're not saying no? This doesn't fit any formula."

"All the more reason to go with it. Tell you what. There's this restaurant in town, Seaside Clam Shack. Come pitch it to my partners as well. Be there at 7:00."

He looked surprised. I hadn't shot him down. I was probably his last resort. After all, we had sex in everything. We even featured (possibly) underage sex with our orgy stuff. Of course if people saw what we were cooking up...

Shows get stale. You need fresh writing and some serious communications between the actors, the producers, and the writers to keep things going. The natural life of a show was quite likely about five to six years. It takes a while to get your feet under you, and pretty soon you they run out of ideas. We were lucky with the detective show I was on, we'd hit on a concept that gave us nearly endless ideas for plot twists.

I jotted down some ideas and questions for this pitch. A lot would depend on what was available as writing talent, and that included what he'd already done. I'd also want to see what he had done with the support work: was he prepared enough to offer us a script? Was there enough to the idea that we could do a pilot?

I was called back to the set and got busy being Mari's friend again. My sandwich was forgotten until my stomach rumbled during a close-up and everyone cracked up.

"Get some food in that girl," the Director called. I dutifully ate a cheese sandwich before getting back to work.

Our meeting was at 7:00, but we actually met at 6:15. We had a lot to cover. Television is very much a hands-on environment, and you're a success because you pay a lot of close attention to the ideas. Today's discussion was "Summer Camp".

Now we couldn't use that title. We'd all gone looking for that title just in case, and it was being used. An author was publishing a series of novels under that title, a story about a boy growing to manhood who came from a swinger/nudist family. The writing was good, but turning it into a TV series would be very difficult because of some of the intricacies of the plot. Television doesn't lend itself well to that sort of thing. Still, we were tempted.

Our Camp was going to shoehorn into something else already going on. The kids were going to be sent to camp for the summer. The MacGuffin was that it was a sex camp. Everything was going to be oriented toward that. For example, in Crafts Class the girls would make their own vibrators. There'd be a lot of sex of just about every kind imaginable. Our demographic ruled out male-male sex, but that was about it. Basically it would be a bunch of horny teenagers being encouraged to have sex.

When we'd first discussed this we hadn't seen any difference between this and most porno flicks. But if we broke it up into segments ... We had someone working on the details. There were a lot of them as we tried to make this "realistic". Now TV likes to scrimp on the realism, but we had learned that attention to such things paid off in viewers and sponsors. So we pondered things like: do you have mixed sexes bunking together or not; what "uniform" is worn by the campers, preferably something easy to get in and out of, and sort of revealing; and what activities did you have for the campers? Then, with all of that, how do you actually shoot it?

Promptly at 7:00 we had our pitch. This wasn't the elevator pitch, the single-sentence one he'd already thrown in my direction, but the five-minute one where he explored some of it. We then grilled him for the half-hour we'd allotted. I can't say he was sweating when he finished, but there was very little about the idea that we didn't know when we thanked him.

Our deliberations are private, but we're not fools to think that just because we're in a room nobody is listening. Television is normally a very straightforward business, but there are some people are ruthless. After dinner we went for a walk on the beach. There'd been a storm at sea a few days earlier and we were still getting the last of the waves and storm surge. This produced a lot of "white noise" to drown out our conversation.

We had one rule that was strictly enforced: Prolonged discussion almost always got a No. The Super Lotto idea was worth more work. Orgy Camp was on track and we just needed more script ideas. Two other ideas were so-so, and one got a No. The other we would offer to another production company.

It was also a time when we seriously looked at what we were currently producing. One of the story arcs was running its course, the one about suburban living with heavy sexual overtones. We'd piggybacked on another show, and Orgy Camp would take its place. That was a relief for the regular shows they were about running out their string. We'd help them through the next year, and then we'd probably shut it down. Fortunately we had some things in the works to keep money coming in, and this Super Lotto show was looking like the best of it. We were still going full speed with Fanny Hill meets Regency Romance, and didn't see an end to it for some time, not as long as there were Regencies. All in all it had been a very productive meeting.

Just before Thanksgiving I sat in on the first bit of orgy Camp. The nice thing about shooting in the Caribbean was that we seldom had weather issues. Perpetual summer was a Godsend. We had a location in Puerto Rico, and I noted the things I wanted to change as the campers were introduced to each other. We didn't go for sex in the first episode, but we did show a lot of skin. Various parts of at least half the girls got exposed to the cold eye of the camera, and I think we got butt shots of at least 75% of the guys.

The social atmosphere after the shoot was just as important. They had to get to know and like each other. They were going to be working together for several months, and if you're going to have regular sex with these people it helps if you know them.

I had plenty to think about as I caught a plane out of San Juan to Miami. Everything was going well, which is always a warning that things might not. I made notes for Joe and Katy about Orgy Camp, and I was scheduled to get some scenes of the second and third episodes while I was at my parents.

A lot of airports have been adding secure communications notes where business travelers could check in, get updates, and so on. Katy had read some things on the internet and was sending a pitch she'd gotten that we'd discuss when I got back. Joe had one, also, and we'd have a lot to discuss when I got back (they were visiting relatives, too). We did talk, though, and agreed to meet before we got home. Katy's was actually a video pitch, one that she just said I would know more when I saw it. Joe's was actually a documentary. He liked it, but said it looked as if it had high production costs. If even one of us said No, it wouldn't happen.

Local flights can be a regular pain. I once took a flight like that, and I swear we stopped at every milk can and mailbox in the Southeast United States. That flight took six hours to go from Miami to Chattanooga. No longer. I flew directly to Atlanta, changed planes, and a little over an hour later dropped into Chattanooga.

Winter was already decorating the Tennessee hills. Missionary Ridge loomed over the city like a giant wall. I got off the plane tired and a little rumpled. A quick stop in the Ladies Room helped. "Freshening up" doesn't necessarily mean using the potty, though that's often involved. Instead I gave myself a quick clean-up, renewed my make-up, and did a little steam work on my blouse and skirt. There was this thing I'd seen on TV that I'd bought that took a little over a minute to make everything look like I'd just put it on. I wasn't the only one doing that, a voyeur would have been surprised at the number of half-dressed women in that Ladies Room doing much the same thing. But finally, pressed, steam-cleaned, and looking much better than I had on the plane, I gathered myself for the family.