Chapter 3: Lights-Camera-Action

Thursday morning, all four of my new stepsisters joined me at the kitchen table for breakfast. After our parents left for work, they stayed there with me. I finally figured out that they were waiting to meet Heather.

Of course, this morning, Heather decided she had to have a cup of coffee and that she had to sit at the kitchen table with the girls while she drank it. And of course, they had to talk, but Heather had a hold of my hand and was not letting me go, so I had to sit through the girl-talk with them.

Finally she grabbed my face and turned it until I was looking directly in her eyes.

“Lesson number ... er ... whatever it is. This is important,” she exclaimed. “You must learn to listen to girls! They’ll almost always tell you something that will allow you to please them better!”

“I don’t understand,” I told her honestly. I had heard their chatter but it had all sounded pretty meaningless and useless to me. I guess she could read my mind now.

“Okay. What’s Ashley’s boyfriend’s name?” Heather asked me.

I started to say “Who cares?” but I bit my tongue and didn’t say anything.

“She doesn’t have one, dummy!” Heather stated triumphantly. “That should tell you that she is probably very lonesome and needs a hug from a guy she trusts. And what guy can she trust more than her big brother? Now come on. Let’s go upstairs and get your lesson started.”

I immediately circled the table and hugged each of my stepsisters then followed Heather upstairs. I could actually feel their incredulous stares at me, but I didn’t turn around to look at them. Once we got in my room with the door carefully locked, Heather turned to me and hugged me tightly.

“I’m sorry if I came across as mean to you downstairs, but I was trying to make a point with your sisters. They need to understand that trust is a very important part of having sex. Without it, there is no way it will be enjoyable for them,” she explained.

“You’re right. And I must add that you are a very good teacher,” I told her as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Hang on a minute. Don’t take that off,” she said, then asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“I mean really ... really trust me?”

“Then come with me, and bring your ID,” she said as she headed out the door.

Heather drove for about twenty-five minutes without getting on the freeway, before finally pulling into the parking lot of an old warehouse. The sign on the building said ‘Lancelot Productions’. There was a security guard just inside the door who allowed us through after checking our IDs against his list.

“Where are we and what are we doing?” I asked in a whisper as we walked down a long hall.

“Just trust me, Ryan. I think you’ll like it.”

The sign on the door she led me to just said ‘Lab’. Behind a small desk sat a woman in a nurses uniform.

“Is this him?” she asked Heather.

“Yes. Did Lorena call you?” Heather asked.

“She said to do a quick run-through and get him down to makeup. Are you going to get your card updated today too?” the nurse asked Heather.

“I’m good today,” she replied. “I’ll have to get it updated when I come in Saturday.”

“Well, I’ll take care of pretty boy here then, while you get yourself down to makeup.”

“Thanks, Wanda,” Heather said. Then kissing me on the cheek she added, “I’ll see you in a few!”

“Hi. I’m Wanda, and I do all the labs for the actors here at Lancelot. You’re Ryan?” she asked me.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Hey! I’m not that old,” she said laughing at me. “Just call me Wanda.”

“Then yes, Wanda. I guess I don’t have to tell you that I have no idea what I’m doing here?”

“It’s pretty simple, really. This is where Lancelot Productions shoots most of their shorts. They do the bigger productions next door on the large sound stages. The state requires that any actors who are in sexual contact with other actors be checked for communicable diseases every twenty-one days. Lancelot likes every seven days and draws the line at ten with no other work in the industry. Now let me see your ID,” Wanda said. “My guess would be that you’re here to film a scene with Candice. But first, I need you to fill out these forms and then go in that bathroom and pee in this cup.”

After I finished, Wanda returned my ID and directed me to Room Seven.

Room Seven was at the end of the hall and came furnished with two couches, a couple of chairs and a coffee table covered in old porno magazines. I kept my mouth shut, but my radar went to high alert. A few moments later, a young woman in a sharp looking dark skirt and white silk blouse came in with a clipboard.

“Mr. Owens?” she asked politely.

“Yes, Ma’am, that’s me,” I answered.

“Would you mind signing these, then we can get you down to make up,” she said.

“And what exactly am I signing?”

“Why the releases, of course. We can’t film you without you signing the releases,” she stated as if she was talking to a twelve year old.

I started to just walk out, but remembered we were in Heather’s car today. Heather had been good to me so far and she was probably trying to see how much I would trust her.

“Okay. Where do I sign?” I asked resignedly. I would go through with this for Heather’s sake. I would show her how much I trusted her. So I simply signed the papers without even looking at them. Then the young lady led me down another hall to a room labeled ‘Makeup #4’.

“Are you Mr. Owens?” the makeup girl asked.

“It’s Ryan to my friends,” I replied with a smile.

“Is that your stage name?” she asked.

“It’s my real name. It’s the only one I have,” I told her.

“Oh, my! That will never do!” she exclaimed. “Nobody goes by their real name around here. I guess Lorena will just have to deal with it.” Then she disappeared out the door.

She returned less than two minutes later with a tall woman in a maroon halter-top and a knee-length ‘A’ line skirt and a stuffy older man in short sleeves and dockers that were way out of style.

“I don’t care, Leon. Just see to it that it’s settled before we release it.” Then as Leon left, she turned her attention to me and perused me from head to toe.

“So, you’re the infamous Mr. Owens?” she stated it as a question.

“No, my father is the infamous one. I’m just plain old Ryan Owens,” I teased.

“Candice didn’t mention a sense of humor,” she said as she looked me over again. “Okay, why don’t you remove your clothes and let’s see what we have to work with...”

“Where had I heard that line before?” I wondered to myself as I began undressing.

“Do you work out? Play sports?” she asked me as I undressed.

“I played basketball in school, but we’re out for summer break right now,” I explained.

“What college?” she asked.

“High school. I’ll be a senior this fall.”

“Are you serious? High school? Let me see your ID,” she said quickly and after looking it over asked, “Is this for real? Are you really eighteen?”

“Yes ma’am,” I told her. “And I still live with my parents. My dad is an engineer at Lockheed and my stepmom is an OB/GYN in town. And they both know that I’m here ... I think.”