Chapter 20

It was only a small cove on the shoreline, with big rocks at both ends. Which is probably what had saved it so far from over-development or amalgamation into one of the other beaches.

There were maybe a dozen other people around, from the other two beach houses, no casual visitors. We strolled slowly hand-in-hand along the shore, pausing often so the dogs could investigate something, just enjoying being together. Mel looked really good in a bikini; this one was a very modest style. I’d seen some way sexier ones in some of her movies, teasing scraps of material, just crying to be taken off. I actually felt a whole load more comfortable this end of the spectrum; with outsiders present I didn’t yet feel secure enough to flaunt her in front of other guys.

And, sure enough, another guy showed up. Damn. Walking over from the center beach house with all the self-confidence of someone who owned the place. Which he probably did. I guessed mid-forties, polo and shorts, could have done with losing a few pounds, big shiny watch on one wrist, chunky gold bracelet on the other. He stopped a few paces away; out of reach of the three curious dogs on their leashes. Probably didn’t like having his knees licked.

He introduced himself, saying that Teresa the housekeeper had left him a note that there were going to be visitors next door. “There are eight of us this weekend; always room for another couple if you feel like getting high and partying? Hot tub takes twelve? We’re a very friendly bunch.”

The grin he gave us as he said ‘friendly’ revealed the rest of the tale. Before I could tell him that we weren’t interested in joining a swingers party, Mel beat me to it. She simply gave him a winning smile and murmured, “Thank you so much, but we’re having a romantic weekend, just the two of us. Kind of you to invite us over, but don’t expect us.”

The guy took the brush-off without obvious dismay, grinned again, wished us a great weekend, and strolled back to his place.

Mel pretended to look askance at me; “You never told me you were always getting hit on?”

“Me? It wasn’t my incredible legs, amazing figure and beautiful face he wanted to see in his hot tub.”

I could tell from the warm light in her eyes that she appreciated the compliment, but she persisted in teasing me. “No? He must be feeling lonesome, then.”

Right. From the look of the bikini-clad beach bunnies in the back yard of his place, he was either hetero or taking great pains to disguise being gay. Nope, wasn’t me he’d been after. “You get much of strangers asking you to party with them?”

A grimace, “Less these days, now I’m hardly ever in a social situation. The people I work with now know better than to ask. But yeah, it’s part of living in this town, moving in these circles. I think that guy’s a literary agent, movie and TV scripts if I remember what I heard. So of course, if he’s at his beach house for the weekend, he’ll be partying. Nope, don’t want to be part of that crowd. Shot more than enough vids on that subject. Let’s forget about him.”

We took the dogs down to the northern end of the cove, let them sample a few waves, and then headed back to our borrowed yard to rinse the salt out of their paws and legs. After a while sitting enjoying the air, Mel reminded me that, with such fair skin and a habit of covering up, she couldn’t take a whole lot of sun in one go. We went back inside the house, got ourselves some tea, and sat together on a couch to drink it and talk some more.

There was still one major point that I just couldn’t work up the courage to directly ask Mel about. It seemed kind of putting her down, appearing mistrustful, and I didn’t want to do that.

In her Atlanta persona she’d done a whole number of threesomes, being fucked by two guys in succession, being screwed by one while sucking the other’s cock. She’d even participated in a few gang-bangs, four, five or six guys, most often black, their dicks taking her in succession. How was a girl who seemed to have just LOVED being with multiple sexual partners at the same time, and who had enjoyed a variety of partners like I could hardly imagine, ever going to settle for being satisfied with just one guy for the rest of her life? I decided to try to lead the conversation and see if I could get my answer. “Mel, you mind if I ask you some more questions, about the porn movies?”

She looked a little concerned that we were back on that topic, but answered me chirpily, “Sure! Anything you want to know. Like I promised, I won’t hide anything.”

“Uh, I really don’t understand how you managed to get so into it with bad boy partners. Some of the scenes I’ve watched, the guy or guys were real rough with you? How did you bring yourself to do it?”

She hugged me with the arm around my shoulder, I squeezed her waist a little tighter with my other arm, giving her time to answer. She sighed, “Short answer, money. Going with a guy pays better than going with another girl, something wild more than a vanilla scene. A gig is a gig, and I was always short of cash. You don’t want to be turning down too many jobs; people stop asking. Longer answer is rather more complex than that. It was a high, Mike. It was sex, and a whole lot better than NOT having sex or masturbating. It was exciting and dangerous and slutty, and it helped me forget that afterwards I’d be going back to my apartment to watch TV alone. What with all the competition, and the way the industry works, sometimes I’d be two, maybe three, weeks without getting a single booking. I wasn’t going to hook up with some stranger just to get laid, so in a way it didn’t matter what the guy looked like, I wanted, quite often I NEEDED, to earn some money and to get fucked.”

“In that order?”

She nodded. “Yeah, in that order. It was a job, just a job. Sometimes the lifestyle was incredible, amazing locations, places I’d never have seen as a girl from Wisconsin, but mostly it was just another boring day in pornland. Way better that than asking people if they want fries with that, or being back home in the rust belt pumping out kids one after another for some guy who spent most of his evenings in the bar with his buddies rather than coming home to the wife and screaming brats. But I’m a normal healthy girl, and every so often I need to have sex before I start climbing the walls. The toys and vibrators help; shit, they’ve become totally essential since I retired, but sometimes I was going crazy for some dick.”

“Just physical release?”

“Oh, absolutely. I never got the sheer emotional joy out of it that we shared last night, like I said at breakfast, most of the time it was just kinda robotic. No feelings involved.”

“Was it ever actually enjoyable?”

“Yeah, of course; some of the guys, and most of the girls, that I went with tried to make sure I had a good time. I counted those occasions as us fucking each other rather than me merely being a piece of meat to give the guy his payday, and it was sometimes awesome, I’ll admit it. Most of the time, I just got used. The blowjob scenes were just that, a pretty girl sucking off an older guy so that other losers could watch the vid and jack themselves off by pretending it was their dick. Don’t get me wrong, I LIKE sucking a nice dick, but many of them were hard work. Okay, I enjoyed it whenever I got eaten out, and most of the guys were competent enough that I got a cum, but nothing earth-shattering like you did to me last night. And being fucked by a big cock? Uncomfortable, and it would have been painful if I hadn’t already stretched myself out and loaded up with lube. Orgasms? Yeah, but most of the time they only came along ‘cos I was frigging my clitty like crazy. Doesn’t help near the end when everyone is panicking about the money shot, whether it will be on my tongue, my tits or my face. Shit, I hated that part. You know how much it stings if it gets into your eyes? I swear some of the guys were trying to fill my eye sockets on purpose because some of the viewers get off on that. Worrying about what’s gonna happen next, it kinda stops you getting there.”

“I saw an interview where you said you generally only got one orgasm a day filming.”

She bit her lower lip in thought. “Yeah, that’s probably still true. Maybe a little bit of an exaggeration; it depends a whole lot on the director.”

I wasn’t expecting that explanation. “The director?”

She giggled. “Yeah, okay, that’s kinda counter intuitive, I know. What I mean is that a great director like Judy, who takes the trouble to explain exactly what she wants and then leaves us to get on with it, works a whole lot better than some control freak who issues instructions every ten seconds and keeps interrupting the shoot because he doesn’t like the exact camera angle or thinks the lighting needs adjusting. I tell you, Mike, with some of the douche-bag directors who think it’s all up to them, sex is a real chore rather than a pleasure. Stop-start, shit, they’d be better with a blow-up doll. You begin to understand why some of the studs have erectile dysfunction and need to pop so many pills to keep going. Jeez, some of them need fluffing during a scene to keep them up!”

I shook my head in amazement. “I so begin to wonder how they ever end up with a saleable movie!”

She giggled and pretended to preen, “Either a good director – and there are quite a few of those around – or an incredibly talented editor and producer, someone like that totally amazing Mel Jorgenson, piecing the broken bits together to make something great!”

That was too much teasing; I pounced on her and we practiced our making-out. She’s a great kisser.

We were both breathing a little roughly when we broke apart. My swim shorts were tented, her bikini top had shifted and those puffy nipples had hardened to little bullets. What to do? I led her to the bedroom and we resolved our physical problems.

For the moment.

Of course, after that workout, we were hungry and thirsty. We washed up and pulled on t-shirts and shorts. Mel had brought along some cold cuts and sandwich makings; with chips and beer we had the perfect refueling snack. Yeah, I know you shouldn’t give dogs salty chips, but they do like the crunch.