Chapter 266: Karisha Washington, 28, Early in the Process...

Charity Devereaux showed up at Mothership Productions a few minutes before 10. Karisha welcomed her and gave her a quick tour. Upstairs, the studio was filled with impressive-looking movie equipment. A large camera, more on dollies. All sorts of lights. And a wall-sized roll of white paper that unschooled from the ceiling to the floor.

Over in one corner of the large room, there were rows of costumes hanging on mobile racks. There was also a privacy screen with an Oriental motif.

In another corner the makeup counter was almost six feet long and filled with jars and brushes and combs and mirrors and magnifiers.

“Wow.”

Cherry was wearing a yellow sundress, which set off her Cajun tan quite smartly. At 5’ 7” she was a little taller than most of her girlfriends. Her black hair was shoulder-length, tied back in a ponytail this morning.

She looked, and smelled fresh — like sunshine and expensive soap. Slender — a trim figure weighing, Karisha estimated, about 115 pounds.

“Do you want me to change?”

“Not yet. I’ll do a couple of quick shots — let’s see what we’re working with. But first, let’s look at some footage my crew has shot.”

Karisha tapped a button, and a huge flat screen descended from the ceiling. They sat down in theater-like chairs to watch. The clip that Karisha had had Ray-Ray put together started with interviews of various people on the streets of Sausalito. Cherry watched, fascinated. She knew several of the folks, and a few more by sight.

Then the scene shifted to the Cajun Bayous. Here everyone who spoke to Karisha was naked. The interviews were interspersed with short clips of the women fucking their sons. It was explicit, but somehow seemed almost normal in the context of the Bayou Bar.

Karisha watched Cherry covertly — she blinked in surprise at the sex, but didn’t seem perturbed. Didn’t blush, didn’t look away.

Then it was back to the streets of Sausalito.

Karisha said, “Now none of that may end up in the final cut. Or, some of it may. But that’s the process — over 90% of what we shoot will end up on the cutting room floor.”

“I had no idea.”

“I probably will end up using some of the sex scenes — I liked the natural lighting.”

Cherry mused, “I went down there twice — me and a couple of girlfriends. It was quite a sight.”

Good sign.

“What did you think?”

“Well, we knew going down there what to expect. I mean that’s why we went. But it was still sort of stunning. I’d seen some of the Miss-Kitty dancers fool around on stage, but I’d never seen ... you know, people actually doing it. Live, I mean.”

Karisha, “What struck me was how casual they were. Not just the moms, but everyone watching them.”

“I know! The second time we went, it was ... well, we knew what to expect. But still.” Cherry grinned, “The mom we watched was really into it — and I don’t think she was faking it either.”

“I’ve interviewed several of the mothers in depth — and a few of them, not all, but, oh, four or five told me they got to the point where they really get off now. They didn’t at first — it was for the money.”

Cherry shrugged, “I guess once you get over the shock —- I mean, I can sort of see how they could ... I mean, once they got past the actual doing of it ... well, it’s the same body parts. I guess.”

The fact that Charity Devereaux was casually talking about watching mother/son incest was a clear indicator of how far Sausalito had progressed. Or, regressed in some minds.

“Okay, let’s get to you.”

Cherry had Googled Karisha Washington the night before. And was impressed. The woman had worked with some of the top hip-hop artists in the country. And was a Clio-winning commercial director.

The real deal, and right here in Sausalito.

“I’m ready.”

“Cherry, I need you to sign this model release first. It’s the standard boilerplate — everyone in the movie gives me permission to shoot and use their images.”

Shrug, “Sure.”

Karisha drew the blackout curtains, adjusted the lighting, and stepped behind the main camera.