Chapter 17

Mel’s little SUV was not on my driveway when I got home, which was disappointing, to say the least. I’d been anticipating its presence all day.

She finally arrived an hour after I did, looking stressed and drawn. That was worrying, but she quickly reassured me that it had nothing to do with me; she’d just had a really bad day at work.

I was very glad to see her. Not only because she was back with us, but also because I needed the distraction. After being welcomed home by three dogs, which had been great, things had gone a little south, and I’d successfully lost my own good mood, and had potentially offended Kara and Tara by cursing at the TV – something Max was kinda used to, but I hoped they weren’t.

I’d made the dumb mistake of switching on the TV to catch the news, only to be forcefully reminded that goddam Hillary goddam Roddam goddam Clinton was still polling ten points ahead of Bernie Sanders to be the Democratic candidate for President. Bernie’s got some great values ... but ... also some crazy ideals, so I could never quite bring myself to vote for him. In my opinion, he’s a little too ready to see the good in people. Too innocent, too ‘nice’ to do what’s necessary. Support the genuinely unfortunate and needy, yes, but not the freeloaders, the leeches who believe that other peoples tax dollars owe them a living. Sorry, Bernie, but America will never be socialist, nor should it be. If you can support yourself, you should do so. No undeserved free rides; otherwise, I quite like your approach.

It was goddam Roddam’s candidacy that really annoyed me. The sheer arrogance. She’d got the DNC support because of who she was, not what she had to bring to the party. Political dynasties are always a bad thing, period. It’s why we got rid of the English kings two centuries ago. To be able to choose our own leaders. I also hated the fact that so many of the Wall Street ‘elite’ were openly funding her campaign; the very last thing America needed was for that bunch of corrupt crooks to be in behind-the-scenes control again, instead of in jail where they belonged. The God-awful damage they’d done to our country in 2008 through their casino banking and thirst for ever-more-dubious derivatives to trade should never be forgotten. Our taxes, their representation in the administration. Nope. Goddam Roddam, like her wayward spouse, is way too close to bankers and billionaires, too fond of wasteful foreign wars where brave and patriotic Americans get killed and maimed in some nameless overseas shithole, purely for the benefit of her backers and their stockholders. Oh, and the thought of Slick Willie as ‘First Gentleman’ was almost as distasteful as “Chelsea Clinton 2024’. No, never, not ever.

Maybe I’d have to vote Republican – which at least did NOT mean two-faced liar Ted ‘slimeball’ Cruz, who I hate even more than I do goddam Roddam. How he could look himself in the mirror after his self-promoting antics over the human disaster that was Hurricane Sandy, I’ll never understand, no matter how he and his supporters try to spin it. Failing to help your fellow Americans when they are in trouble is also un-American.

Not that a non-Democrat vote was gonna count for much in California the way things are going. Maybe a write-in vote, just to register my displeasure at both candidates? California has the most stringent requirements to get on the ballot paper, so a write-in is just a protest, it’s never actually gonna elect anyone. I still reckon Kermit the frog is better motivated to work for the greater good than anyone currently infesting Capitol Hill.

You know something funny? I was told in college that the original intention of the Founding Fathers was that the losing candidate would become the Vice President to the winner; some weird idea that they’d just have to pull together, and that it would heal divisions and temper extremism. Right. Like that would work now. Must have been a very different class of politician in those days, maybe that’s why they were referred to as ‘statesmen’. Before they went around kissing babies and pardoning turkeys in public, and kissing donor’s asses in private.

You ever see that clip of Sarah Palin pardoning a turkey, while one of its friends is being force-fed into the guillotine behind her, clearly in shot, no mistaking what was happening? Me, I’d have fed my aide’s head into the guillotine for letting that one get out. You do an unashamed plug to the turkey-pardoning caucus, and you can’t even get that right? That clip was the turkey’s turkey. I guess we get the politicians we deserve.

I’ll respect our politicians just as soon as they start demonstrating some respect for the American people and begin doing their jobs for the long-term benefit of everyone, not just their backers. And most of the current crop just can’t think that way.

Mind you, Kermit? Miss Piggy as First Lady? Gonzo for Veep? Animal at State? Fozzie Bear as Chief Justice? Maybe that is a ticket I could get behind...

That’s enough politics.

Anyhow, I was so pleased to see Mel, and so keen to comfort her for her bad day, that I completely forgot about my minor personal gripe with all the shenanigans in Washington.

She made a great fuss of all three dogs, and they did her, which put a genuine smile back on her face. Dogs, they’re always pleased to have your company, and they show it. We’d discussed having therapy dogs in the hospital, there’s nothing more calming than stroking a pooch, but the risks of infection (and litigation) rate way higher with the lawyers than some ‘feel-good factor’ that couldn’t be measured. I think that’s a shame, but I can’t produce the factual evidence to convince the skeptics. If I ever do end up in an elderly care home, I want one which encourages companion animals.

I gave Mel a glass of wine; she took a quick shower and changed into white shorts and pink polo shirt. Looked great. Girl Next Door beautiful. I cuddled her on the couch while we waited for our food delivery, gently massaging her neck and shoulders to tease out some of the tension knots that had built up in her muscles.

She explained that it had been just one of those days. “I know that I shouldn’t expect it to run like clockwork, but there are still so many fucking jackasses in this industry. Two girls, two guys, simple foursome shoot, everyday bread and butter. One scene before lunch, the other after. Wrapped by four and home by five. Doesn’t sound too fucking difficult, does it? All of us on set at ten, equipment tested, ready for makeup, short one guy. He finally got there at twenty past eleven, still half stoned from last night. Fucking piece of shit. Hadn’t read the script, hadn’t shaved; if we could have gotten someone else in time, we absolutely would have. Edwin, the director, has put the word out; they won’t be using him ever again. Another fucking asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and he’s untouchable just because he’s got nine inches. The girls say they won’t work with him either; they’ve both got stubble rash and bruises they didn’t need. Trouble is, they may not have the choice. If he’s booked for a shoot, then they have to perform with him, or their reputation for reliability suffers.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Too damned often. A lot of directors keep a shit list of agents whose talent keeps fucking up; they always blame the performer, but they shouldn’t be representing a serial douche-bag zero like that guy. If someone’s got such a drug problem that midweek they can’t turn up on time and sober, then they shouldn’t fucking be available for bookings. If the agent doesn’t care, then his people won’t.”

She ranted on for some time while I held her; I guessed that she really needed to get these feelings off of her chest as well. It was yet another area where she required a true friend. It’s not like you can bitch to your employer that your boss is an incompetent asshole, or some of your work colleagues aren’t worth minimum wage. That’s what friends and family are for. Mel hadn’t had that support network for a while; I was more than ready to help her out there.

The beer and pizza and my listening eventually comforted her. I gave us both a heaped bowl of ice cream to follow. With chocolate sauce. Sometimes you just gotta pig out, fuck the calorie counting.

She was much more relaxed when we did the night-time routine and went to bed.

We talked a bit more, well, for another couple of hours, holding each other tight. We’d graduated to me lying on my back with her on my chest; my erection resting against her belly until it forgot to keep going. Then it was just bodily contact for comfort and sympathy. I rubbed her back and shoulders gently, she seemed to appreciate that as she opened up her heart to me.

Turned out that her 30^th birthday hadn’t been the sole catalyst in her deciding to look for a soulmate. A couple of months before that, she’d ‘celebrated’ her tenth ‘pornaversary’, and that landmark had rocked her back on her heels. She almost couldn’t believe that ten years on she was still making porn, and it made her think long and hard (she did ask me to excuse the pun) about giving it up. The days of her being in the top-ranked 100 porn stars worldwide were long gone; new names and faces had come to feed the ever-hungry demand. She knew her money-making days were numbered unless she had the necessary surgery to fill the MILF and step-mother roles. If she hadn’t developed her other film-making skills, she’d have had little choice but to continue being fucked, or make the career-change move into accountancy; but she’d talked to a few friendly directors and her agent, and picked up a couple of camera intern jobs which had very quickly led to real paid work. She’d discovered that all her past experience of seeing things done the wrong way had made her knowledgeable about what did work best, and of actual value to her directors in saving time and stress. Some of them were now actively asking her to be part of their teams.

“There’s no doubt that the industry prefers to ride hot young starlets hard for a couple of years, then discard them as soon as they lose their appeal for some fresh young meat, heaven knows there’s an ample supply. There’s a big MILF and Cougar market, but the old days when Amber Lynn could work for 25 years and make that transition are gone; the hot MILFs like Brandi Love came in as a second career. She’d actually been married for 15 years and had a kid before she entered the industry; probably why she manages to look so fresh and enthusiastic. I’ve done a few scenes with her, she’s a nice lady. I just couldn’t see myself in her position, though, fucking on camera in my forties, not having started before I was twenty.”

“Forties?”

“Yeah, she’s got the genes and the attitude; she’s looked after herself so she’s still real hot. She made her first movies with her husband; they’re actually swingers in real life, so porn wasn’t ever going to be a problem that way. She’s one heck of a businesswoman; she dreamed up that ‘Moms teach sex‘ genre, and it’s done real well. Me, I’m ready for a big change in lifestyle. I couldn’t do what she does, and I don’t need to. Ten years was enough, and I didn’t want to just drift into history. Going into production and technical was a match for my degree, and I’ve found that I enjoy it way more than I did the acting.”

She giggled. “Now it’s me making the performers wait around between shots. I don’t ever do it on purpose, unless they’re being complete dickheads, but at least I now understand why it happens so often!”

“You want to make a second career on the technical side of porn?”

“Absolutely! It’s challenging, interesting, and I know enough people to be sure of working steadily.”

I thought for a moment. I’d need to know a little bit more, but I reckoned that I could live with that. I’d read something in a magazine article about Sheryl Sandberg, in which she’d said ‘the single most important career decision a woman makes is whether she has a life partner and who that partner is, I don’t know of a single woman in a leadership position whose life partner is not fully – and I mean fully – supportive of her career’. Yeah, I could most probably support Mel being on the correct side of the adult movie camera. The wrong side, no.

She took a sip of her drink and continued. “Anyway, I finally figured out that I needed to quit the acting before I could find Mr Right. Yeah, a number of people I know well are married and still performing; some work together, some partners are outside the industry. I talked to those I knew were married or in steady relationships, and they gave me some good advice. I wish I’d known some of it when I was with Ricky; like that quite often the partner attends the shoots, so there’s no pretense, no cheating. I don’t know if you’ve heard of Stormy Daniels, she’s a real kind person. She’s married; they’ve had a daughter recently, and Stormy’s still performing, still popular. Same with Brandi. So it CAN be done, you just have to meet someone with that spark, someone who can handle it; but I hadn’t done that in ten years. Heck, I haven’t even given my number to a guy since Ricky; there was no-one I wanted to see socially. I guess I finally came to realize that I’d have to find myself a civilian, and that I’d have to change the work that I do.”

“No-one with any spark at all?”

“No-one. Ricky started as a friend, it was more than just him wanting to fuck me. Trouble was, there wasn’t enough for either of us; him to accept my job, me to try hard enough to help him understand that it wasn’t disrespecting him.”

IMHO, I wasn’t too sure that I could have outlasted Ricky as the boyfriend of a porn star. I could see his point of view all too well. I guess I’m too conventional; I wouldn’t want the bragging rights, and my pride probably couldn’t have taken the hit either. Like I’d told Mel at our first meeting, I’m a serial monogamist. But seriously, she hadn’t dated any of the guys she’d fucked on camera? “None of the studs worth even a second look?”