Chapter 11: Dinner parties, Orgies, and Lovers

Crystal and I tried to talk three times a week: Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. Usually, Ellen did three-quarters of the talking, and I got a few words in. We’d agreed to not only have an open relationship, but also to share all the details with one another. Thus, Ellen would give her version of the details – the feminine viewpoint, and I would come on the phone and give her the shorter male version. Anyone listening would cum in seconds our conversations were so graphic.

Crystal took it in stride that Claire had moved in with Ellen and me at the hotel, complete with full bilateral sexual privileges meaning that she played nicely with both Ellen and me, and took the initiative as often as we did – often several times a day, and not always in the hotel room.

She didn’t seem concerned that the hot, rising red-headed, twenty-six-year-old star seemed to be in love with me. She wrote it off to infatuation. She did urge me to romance her and also warned that the paparazzi still hadn’t gotten their asses fully into gear regarding the fact that she and I were in different places and with different people – probably in a romantic way.

I took it in stride that Crystal had developed a relationship with George Rinard, her handsome co-star in the movie she was making in Paris and Moscow. The pair even had themselves on the front page of several supermarket gossip magazines as the latest hookup worthy of note. Several magazines even raised the question: ‘What happened to Jim?’ I hadn’t seen them.

Claire took it in stride that we shared everything with Crystal. She even got hot listening to us recount one of our threesome romps to Crystal, so she got naked on the bed next to me with a vibrator against her clit and stared at me until I got off the phone and made love to her. Several times Claire and I were fucking away as we talked to Crystal whom in turn described the pleasure she was deriving from her favorite electric dildo (we could hear the buzz) or one-time from George (we could hear him panting).

Crystal also related a threesome she’d engaged in with George and his brother. “I loved the idea of fucking two members of the family simultaneously.” I allowed as how I did too, thinking of Crystal and Ellen, or my sister, sister-in-law.

No one in LA paid any special attention to us. We came and went to the studio each day, ate out at various restaurants, and took “Discover California” trips on the weekends. We went down and saw my sister Anna in San Diego one weekend, staying over and enjoying a small orgy with Anna, her boyfriend Mark, and the three of us. (She’d farmed out my niece and nephew to a friend.) During the week, we also had occasional ‘dates’ with Jill, Tina, or Jason, or combinations. Both Jill and Tina were insatiable sexual nymphomaniacs, distinguished from the others in our circle only by their vocalization of the fact. I realized they’d become bisexual so that they could have twice as many people trying to pleasure them.

Barry Peters our male co-star became available about three weeks after we met the others, so he started to be a fixture at some of our sexual romps. Jill had already corrupted the poor man, and she obviously liked what he had to offer. He would often join Jill and Tina for an evening, dragging into our rehearsals the next morning looking haggard and sated. I’d started to follow my acting coach’s advice to pace myself by limiting most of my nights to Ellen and Claire.

Our serene existence exploded one day when the paparazzi discovered me. Actually, they discovered all of us as we had started to film some outdoor scenes on the streets of L.A. Many scenes involved one or two of us walking or running around some street, often looking over our shoulder or else looking forward in anticipation, and sometimes carrying some kind of weapon.

Sony had issued a standard press release that talked about our movie, ’Pressure Limit,’ and that filming had just started and the anticipated release date. The announcement contained all the standard babble about the movie, who was in it (including yours truly), and the location for some of the local scenes.

Mark Ang got a section of beach blocked off not too far from the Santa Monica Pier. Jill and I had a scene where we were running away from the bad guys – who, of course, wore black suits and looked similar to Ninja warriors with felt hats. We were to come running out of a side street, jump across a couple of cars (thank you Jason for handling that part of ‘my’ action), and then hit the beach at a sprint – running behind a camera truck that would film us as we ran. We’d run about a block as we got shot at, and then we had to cut back into the City as we outran the bad guys partly because I shot their leader who did a majestic death fall into the rolling surf. I was to pull Jill along with me. After a couple of ‘running’ shots, we redid the sequence with several different cameras on the ground, and one in a helicopter. Ellen and Claire, clad in very brief bikinis, were some of the background extras on the beach that we ran past.

Our behavior between ‘takes’ had become pretty informal. Jill would often come up to me, plaster her lithe body against mine, grind her hips a bit, and kiss me passionately whenever the mood struck her, which turned out to be at least once every quarter of an hour. When she wasn’t attending to me either Ellen or Claire or both were doting on me, often soliciting a kiss or some other physical expression of affection. Claire liked to give my shoulder rubs and massages.

We spent the afternoon on various segments of the movie segment. Spectators lined parts of our ‘set’ but were out of sight from the camera angles, and they included a dozen paparazzi. I really forgot about them for the whole afternoon, until as we were folding up Ang suggested Jill and I say a few words to them. I gestured to one of the security guys to let the twelve individuals in – five woman and seven men. The three of us walked over to meet them. We stood in a rough circle.

Ang greeted them cordially; however, at the start, the questions flew in Jill and my direction.

“Jim, you looked pretty cozy with Miss Dane and those two other women. Are you over compensating for losing Crystal to George Rinard over in Paris?”

A long silence ensued, and then I burst out laughing – some of it was forced, but most of my laugh stemmed from the humor I saw in the situation. I had been caught so off-guard by the question; it struck me funny. My laughter gave me time to formulate a response; the paparazzi looked completely puzzled by my laughter and they too started to chuckle in resonance.

Still chuckling I answered, “Now, there’s an idea I hadn’t thought of, but by way of answering your question, you make several assumptions that are not correct in how you formed the loaded, multi-part question. Do you others mind if she breaks that apart into more digestible segments?” The others nodded at her to do as I had suggested.

The woman asked, “OK, in reverse order, do you miss Crystal.”

I responded, “Yes, we were and are very close friends. We eagerly await when we can see each other again, and we talk several times a week.”

“Are you aware of her intimate relationship with George Rinard?”

I’d anticipated that question so had a ready answer, “Yes. We have never been exclusive in our friendship. I am glad she has found some new people to expand her horizons and show her new points of view. She told me only yesterday they were having fun and planned to go to the Riviera this weekend, and to Rome next weekend.” Everyone scribbled on their note pads madly.

The press woman asked further, “So, do you have an intimate relationship with Jill Danes?”

I had not talked to Jill about any prearranged remarks, so this part of the interview started to venture into grounds I wasn’t prepared for. Before I could speak, Jill slipped under my left arm and said, “Why, yes. Jim is such a good lover, maybe the best I’ve ever known – you know, both quality and quantity ... oh, and size, too.” She then laughed hysterically, suggesting that some part or all of her remark might be a huge tease. I broke out laughing again as did most of the reporters who all seemed to take her remarks as total fabrication.

The woman persisted, “And, Mr. Mellon, we saw you being ... or rather having some intimate or close moments with two other women on the set – kissing, hugging, and I think one of them gave you a shoulder rub or massage for a while.”

I pondered that question when one of the male reporters jumped in, “Yes, what about those other two women? Do you have Jill and two others on the line?”

I chuckled and said, “Doesn’t every male movie star have his leading lady and at least two other women on the set to keep him warm on cold nights, and to attend to his every need?” A rift of laughter erupted from the group. “As I said before, I am just a bachelor with no strings, and I’m not planning on creating any either. So, I date and play the field.”

My remark proved disarming enough that the line of questioning stopped. Nonetheless, I wondered what would appear on the cover of the supermarket rags.

Our time with the press continued with Ang and Jill fielding some more mundane questions that didn’t deal with relationships surrounding the movie or my girlfriend in Paris. I fielded a question about mixing music and acting, and then we all headed off to dinner.

Mellon’s Harem!

I stood and stared at the headline on the National Rumor, a supermarket tabloid. Below and behind the headline were a series of snapshot photographs of me: kissing Jill, kissing Ellen, and kissing Claire. Next to it was an old picture of me kissing Crystal with a big red ‘X’ through it, and next to that a picture of Crystal and George Rinard obviously leaving some Paris nightclub arm in arm, one of Crystal’s boobs looked to be falling out of her dress, but upon closer examination I could tell the dress and breast had been Photoshopped. I couldn’t resist, so as I stood in line I flipped open and read the first few paragraphs of the article. They were remarkably accurate, including a quote of me commenting about needing three women to keep me warm at night.

As I put the magazine in my cart, the guy in line behind me said, “I sure hope you don’t kill yourself trying to keep up with them three women. I like your music and wanna see your movie, but don’t get so knackered with them women that you have to stop any of whatever it is your doin’.”

I reached over and shook his hand, “Thanks. I think I have things under control; at least this afternoon and in this country.” He chuckled along with me, and was pleased that I’d paid personal attention to him. His recognition of me gave me a warm feeling.