Chapter 20

For Henry, the time away from LA scoping out locations wasn’t nearly as taxing sexually as it had been for Joe, though he really couldn’t complain. Holly certainly knew how to pleasure him and keep it interesting and even getting him to appreciate giving her pleasure as well, a bit of Pavlovian psychology, a reward system even if she never heard of Pavlov and his dogs she had a native intelligence enabling her to work out the best solutions to make things better for her, his benefits of less interest except for him continuing his interest in her. To her, Henry remained the ultimate john, pleasuring him and keeping him interested her one real job. In reality she never found him attractive either physically or his arrogant character. And his fat cock, though extra stimulating when her pussy was ready for it, she’d have preferred be a lot more normal sized, having always to adjust to it as well as the way it stretched her mouth when she sucked it.

Which made her not mind in the least when he essentially lent her out to his DP accompanying them. Greg was an eccentric genius, crazy, bipolar, and at forty this quality did him no favors professionally, lots of burnt bridges with him at a manic stage tearing into his director verbally and threatening physically. He self-medicated with a steady diet of cannabis which did seem to calm him except for a general feeling of paranoia. The pot hadn’t rid him of his opinionated nature, just kept it quieter and less reactive, but that wasn’t really an issue with Henry because Henry qualified for Greg’s respect, both in intelligence and in acceptance, somewhat, of Greg’s peculiar vision. Greg thought cinematography should be expressive and even created his own lexicon of camera angles and tints specific to emotions, and though Henry wasn’t one hundred percent behind Greg’s vision, he was shooting a comic book and wanted it mannered, just not specifically fitting Greg’s coded techniques. To Greg it was less of a compromise, which had been what most every job had been, than it was a challenge happily embraced.

Physically Greg had a thicker than usual cock, just not as freakishly thick as Henry’s. and like Henry he was built thick, but along with being bipolar he had a bit of the obsessive compulsive in him which made him work out hard every morning, calisthenics with weights in his hands when his hands were available and an exercise machine which resembled cross country skiing. He was also quite hirsute.

Holly liked his hairy body, calling him her big bear, her hands caressing his chest and abdomen when she rode him. She was less fond of the pubic hair caught in her teeth when sucking him, especially his balls, and suggested some trimming, which he agreed to if he could do the same for her, so that part of him actually improved things. Not that things needed improving much. He could be relentless and inexhaustible fucking her, but also gentle and caring, and he had no qualms about making her cum with his mouth. Even his predilection for anal, a Greek thing Holly had heard, her tendency to generalize from the anectdotal perhaps one of her least intelligent traits, she ended up enjoying because he was careful and because he encouraged her to fuck herself with a vibrator while he fucked her ass.

The switch happened a few days into the trip. Rochester had proved a bust, but Albany turned out to be perfect, with an old brick apartment building standing in for the heroine’s residence also having a stairwell at the side leading to the basement be a stand in to the entrance to the underground bar. Row houses in a poor neighborhood and the state capital building, an old precinct building and the courthouse checked off the rest of Henry’s needs for location shooting. He messaged the specifics to Connie to work out permission to shoot these places.

One of the few arguments Greg had with Henry had been not looking at Baltimore, his hometown, growing up in an essentially Greek lower middle class neighborhood there which was why, though third generation, his heritage was almost exclusively Greek, but Greg had to agree Henry had stumbled on perfection, and the fact they planned to shoot towards the end of fall when things would be cooler, wetter and grayer than they would be in the much more southern city made it clearly the best choice.

The quick find came three days into the week long scouting mission, leaving nearly four days to do whatever they wanted. For Henry that meant looking up an old MCAD alumnus sooner than he anticipated. While Henry drove the luxurious Lincoln he rented, heading northeast out of Albany towards the Adirondacks, he told Greg sitting next to him, “Paul was always a major pothead like you. He used to have a fucking grow light in his little fucking apartment. And now he lives in an artist community near the college in which he teaches film history and filmmaking, and I bet he’s got a whole crop of that shit growing there.”

Paranoia had Greg find a can to smuggle some joints, looking like a shaving cream container with a mentholated scent that supposedly prevented drug dogs from smelling it. Henry was convinced enough to shove in his two grams of cocaine. The limited amount of joints Greg brought had him ration his intake.

“You could have told me,” Greg complained, pulling out a joint and lighting it.

“What’s the fun in that?” Henry laughed. “Besides, I wasn’t sure when we’d visit or if he’s still the same pothead.”

“Yes you were,” said Holly from the back seat. “I bet the guy looked completely stoned when you skyped him, and if things hadn’t worked out in Albany, we would have stopped at this place before heading south.”

“Stop being a smartass, it’s unbecoming.”

“You mean it’s not like me.”

“Yes, Holly, that’s what I mean.”

“Not as dumb as I look, hunh Greg?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“Then you think wrong,” Holly giggled her peculiar and infectious giggle.

Hours later they arrived at the picturesque town snuggled into a valley of the Adirondacks, at the edge of which a dirt road brought them up to some cabins, shacks really, and in the middle, incongruously, a large modernist circular brick and concrete building. They parked amongst small, cheap, old dusty cars, an old and rusted pick-up truck, and, also incongruous, what looked like a brand new green Land Rover, making the Lincoln a touch less conspicuous.

Double doors opened at the front of the round building and three people descended the slightly ramped concrete slab, a hairy blonde fellow in his mid to late twenties like Henry, a suspiciously young cute blonde holding his hand and a gorgeous raven haired woman with remarkable almost violet blue eyes. The blondes sort of matched in their loose cotton clothing, though his was a royal purple while hers was a soft yellow. The raven woman on the other hand wore an appliqued cowboy shirt with pearl buttons seemingly fitted to her buxom torso and tight blue jeans.

“Henry!” Paul exclaimed.

“Paul,” Henry grinned, and received his old schoolmate’s embrace uncomfortably.

“This is Daisy,” Paul gestured to the young blonde who also embraced Henry, Henry much more comfortable with that.

“You must be the famous cinematographer, Gregory Papas!”

“Just Greg is fine, and more infamous” said Greg getting his two hugs.

“And you are?” Paul asked.

“Holly, Henry’s companion,” Holly smirked and got hugged as well.

“My name is Deidre, and please not Dee Dee,” said the buxom beauty, her voice somewhat nasally, her r’s somewhat swallowed. “I have so looked forward to meeting you Henry. I have admired your work.”

“You have?” Henry gulped while shaking her long slender hand.

“Deidre has a fondness for esoteric experimental film,” Paul chuckled.

“Baltimore?” George asked.

“Yes,” Deidre nodded matter-of-factly.

“Me too!” George returned with a great deal more enthusiasm.

“Yes I know.”

“You must be starved!” Paul realized and began walking towards the entrance.

“What is this building?” George asked.

“Remarkable isn’t it? It’s why I was happy to get the job here. This was a commune in the late 19th century, an artistic bent somewhat how we have it now. One of the communards was an eccentric and quite brilliant architect a bit too ahead of his time. He had advanced ideas about engineering as well and designed and built this building along with the houses, which don’t look like much but were definitely built to last. This was to be his masterpiece, the archetype of what he offered, but unfortunately no one seemed to get it. The rejection pulled him into madness and he remained here until his death, the commune which had become like his protector ending soon after. The richest family in town whose son had been part of the commune and who died here of tuberculosis at the end of its existence, the disease probably scaring any remaining communards away, and decided to buy the land and property as a sort of memorial to him. Students would visit along with esoteric historians, but generations later the family lost interest and we pulled some money together to buy it fairly cheap. What money we could get we used to restore what we could, but my recent windfall enabled us to give it a real restoration.”

“Windfall?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” Paul admitted a bit shamefully, “I created the campaign for Hamburger Hamlet.”

“Hamburger Hamlet has happy hamburgers,” Holly sang and giggled.

“Yes that one. It became so successful that a conglomerate bought what had been a fourth rank hamburger franchiser for a great deal of money, as the owners had hoped, and I was rewarded with the continued use of my copyrighted words and song and images.”

“How did you get the gig?” Henry asked.

“We filmmakers need to find funding however we can,” Paul shrugged. “I kept my toes in a Manhattan ad agency, and being a triple threat got some gigs, this last one hopefully my last.”

The group had followed Paul along a wide round hall to a cafeteria, people looking a lot more like Paul and Daisy than Deidre passing by. “Sit,” Paul told them. “I’ll get Maggie to bring you some food.”

An older, thickset tired looking woman with graying brunette hair brought out a large tray of avocado sandwiches with sprouts and on thick sliced wheat bread. She separated nested cups and distributed them to everyone, the food just for the three visitors. She came back with a pitcher of iced herbal tea with a ginger kick to it and poured it into the cups.

“Thanks,” said George.

“Of course,” the woman grinned showing some missing teeth.

After she left, Henry asked, “Local?”

“A divorced empty nester who needed the work,” Paul shrugged.

While they ate, Henry and Deidre began a chat that would last for three days when they weren’t sharing other things.

“So what have you been doing since college?” Deidre asked.

“First, how do you know my work?”

“I have many tentacles always looking for interesting work,” she chuckled.

“For what?”

“An archive housed at the University of Maryland in which I am a full professor of film studies.”

“And you have my work in your archive?”

“Yes. All the way back to your award winning work when you were in high school.”

“How ... wait. A guy who ended up my teacher at MCAD contacted me about copies.”

“Yes. That was for me.”

“So my MCAD work...”

“Yes.”

“And what do you use them for?”

“Studies mostly. I write papers on them.”

“Your last name?”

“Collingsworth. Deidre Collingsworth. But you wouldn’t find my byline in the journals you read.”

“But I do keep up with the experimental journals.”

“My writing tends towards the much more academic. I have been published in academic journals focusing on aesthetic and epistemological philosophy. Filmmakers would never read them but some film studies professors do. I try to go on sabbatical every three years and lecture at various schools during that time, bringing examples with me.”

“Including my work?”

“Yes, because I have traced your work back to Meshes of the Afternoon, narrative as dream state, though I find your semiotics far more compelling and complex, even in your simpler High School work but especially in college.”

“Thanks. And between sabbaticals? I presume your papers might need illustrations.”

“Very good. Yes, I have a website partially for that reason. I have digitized much of my collection.”

“Including my work?”

“Yes, but I do ask for a small fee, just as I ask for a much bigger one when I lecture, at best it helps supplant the cost.”

“I’m not worried about copyright. I can’t imagine it would be much.”

“No. I did have Roger pay you for the copies.”

“Five hundred for the high school film and a thousand for the ones in college. My first professional sales and I found it quite generous.”

“Good.”

“So this sabbatical.”

“My next one will be next year. Essentially I’m free for the next year and a quarter except for the tour of course.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be in LA for them?”

“UCLA in the fall,” she laughed.

“You will have to let me know.”

“I will, Henry, believe me.”

The way she said it made him hard, or harder, because just her presence excited him.

He suddenly realized George stood next to him. “Keys?” George asked. “We’re going to put our bags in our rooms.”

“Just put Henry’s in mine,” said Deidre.

“You sure?” Henry asked.

“She’s sure,” Paul laughed, Daisy scowling at him.

While the others retreated, Henry asked Deidre, “So you’re like a filmmaker groupie?”

“I suppose I am,” Deidre smirked.

“Just a second,” he said rising, showing the large bulge in his pants pleasing Deidre. “Holly!” he caught her just before she exited. When they met he whispered to her, “Be with George.” He extracted a few hundred dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to her as discretely as possible.

“Yes Henry,” she grinned, giving him a peck on his mouth. “Have fun!” she giggled.

“Plan to,” he replied to her retreating body.

Deidre stood behind him also watching Holly’s retreat. “Companion?”

“Uhm.”

“You can do better,” she assured him.

“Maybe not,” he thought to himself unexpectedly, but turned to Deidre, looking into her dark sexy blue eyes directly in front of him since they were the same height and taking her hands, said, “Apparently so.”

“Come on,” Deidre chuckled, letting go and walking away, Henry enjoying the view of her full shifting butt.

“Where to?”

“You’ll see.”

He followed her through a door into a screening room, odd in its shape with the curving walls, requiring the 16mm projector to be at the far side and the screen to be angled at the nearer side. Thankfully cushioned chairs also adjusted to the configuration, creating an almost diagonal aisle between them.

“Grab a seat, Henry,” Deidre ordered and soon joined him after turning on the projector already set up for the film.

“Oh,” said Henry, recognizing the credits for his award winning high school film.

“I spliced them together, leaving a couple out to make room on the one reel. How long since you’ve seen them?”

“It’s been a while,” Henry admitted. He’d digitalized the films for Lindy to send to the prospective producers but hadn’t actually watched them, Joe assuring him they did a fairly decent job.

They watched the films, Henry cringing at the mistakes he saw, but mostly finding them better than he thought he would, even worthy of pride. She’d held his hand, even meshing fingers, but any movement towards her sex or his she resisted enough for him to stop.

While it rewound, she set up another projector, one for digital media, a lap top linked to it. What she played got him fully hard in a moment, her stripping in a play of shadows and shifting angles. She knelt in front of him and pulled off all that got in her way from his cock. “Oh my.”

Her mouth went to it and she proved to be an exquisite fellatrix.

The film concluded with her fucking herself to a climax, and he filled her mouth with liquid instead of flesh at the same time. Another film started, similarly artistic though differently achieved, with her lying on a field of grass masturbating, the camera swooping over her slowly, her getting more and more into it until all four fingers fucked inside her and she steered nipples to her mouth. During it, in reality, she stripped off her jeans and panties, leaning over, offering him her pussy which he gladly accepted.

He hadn’t quite got her off when another film began, in which she lay naked against a transparent material and a man fucked her from behind. “You have condoms?” she asked Henry, and he pulled out one of his magnums and some lube, and once slid on and applied she lowered herself slowly onto it facing the screen. “Oh fuck,” she growled, his cock stretching her pussy lips wide, but beyond it he didn’t feel quite as much pressure, the way it felt on the occasion of the rare wider space that seemed to accept his thickness best. He soon had her bent over, him resting on his knees, his hands finally feeling those amazing breasts she bared, her fingers working her clit, and she came. “Keep going,” she murmured. He intended to.

The next film seemed to be shot by the man fucking her, unsteady and less artistic to be sure but more intimate and sexy. He fucked her hard through it, her hand bringing his fingers to her clit this time and then joined his other hands squeezing her nipples and she ended up cumming again just as he did.

She pulled off him and used her panties to contain the used condom before her mouth cleaned his jism off his cock, starting to get him hard again.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she purred, standing and dressing. He dressed too. She boxed up the film and closed up the lap top and led him out of the room, following the circular hallway to her room where his bags had been stashed.

Stripping naked again, he stripped too. “On the bed,” she told him and when he lay back she brought her pussy to his lips and her lips to his cock. Once hard again, she handed him his bag to get another condom, which she used to cover his cock.

“Lube?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she grinned and impaled himself on his cock, riding him, his eyes mostly on the profound bouncing of her tits until he leaned up and suckled them. “Nibble them,” she breathed, rubbing herself hard and soon came with a growl and a shiver. She then took the doggy position again and he shoved back in and fucked her hard and fast until he came. “Keep going,” she insisted, and he was barely hard when she got her climax.

“Excuse me,” she said, pulling off him and putting on a lengthy robe. Taking the condom in a tissue, she stepped out of the room.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

When she returned she asked, “Toilet?”

“Yes.”

“Two doors to the right.”

“Okay.”

He pulled on his pants and shirt and headed out, passing a door where he heard Holly’s moan.

When he returned he found her in bed, her tits exposed so probably naked, so he stripped and joined her.

“Got the idea?” she asked.

“You want a souvenir?”

She chuckled. “An inimitable film,” she said.

“Is it okay if George films it?”

“Of course. How wonderful.”

Turning off the lamp on the bedside table, she shifted onto her side facing away from him. He spooned behind her, her hand moving his hand from her tit to her belly.

Awaking to the wonderful feeling of being sucked, he saw her beautiful face dimly, contorted by his thick cock. She popped off it loudly and told him, “Good you’re awake. I have to try this.”

Rolling on a condom she coated it with lube and sat on it, guiding his cock to her anus. She must have applied lube inside, because, after somehow managing to slip through her sphincter, with an “Oh fuck that’s big!” he managed to slide in deeper without much effort except of course for opening her up more than she ever had been opened. “Lie still,” she groaned, sending him gradually deeper. Once fully impaled she brought a slim vibrator and worked her clit and the upper part of her pussy with it. Her other brought her tit to her mouth and tugged at the other one while she sucked herself. It was crazy and intense and sexy, and the first time he’d ever been inside a butthole, and yet when she came, he hadn’t, maybe because of the craziness.