Chapter 18

Pat needed Harry for just the morning of the last day of shooting for him for a while, Friday. Wrapping felt like getting out of jail for a small stint, even though it went well. But those four days had been all day and, except Wednesday, into the evening since both Frances and the sexy, talented Latina actress both needed to work later.

Perhaps the most intense part of the shooting was working with Merc. Pat decided to shoot Harry’s first real intimate encounter with the black alpha in Harry’s cell instead of somewhere outside in the yard, which actually made more sense as far as optics. The scene, already rewritten by Harry extensively, smoothing over the symbolism, making it both realer and subtler, was rewritten again but only to adjust to the new setting.

Merc asked Harry for advice for his first encounter with acting, at least filmed acting, and it really was jumping into the deep end for the former inmate in that scene. Harry just told him to be himself intimidating the shit out of some white convict and then revealing his true purpose, letting the guy under his skin a bit.

“What’s that like to you?” Harry asked Merc.

“I remember it well,” Merc grinned.

“Good. Now remember I’m there too; it’s not just you reading your lines. Take your time so you can respond to my response. The benefit of film is we can do however many takes it takes to get it right. The downside is very little rehearsal. Pat can speed things up or let you know to do this more or that less. She’s a great actress and a really good director.”

Merc nodded. “The only one who bosses me is Ma Belle. I sort of psyched myself up to let Pat be the boss.”

“At least she’s a compassionate boss. She’s worked with virgin actors like you, especially as a child actor.”

“I ain’t been a virgin since early days,” Merc laughed.

Pat was prepared for a little extra rehearsal, but after the third time through, both she and Merc felt ready to shoot. It took four takes, but the fourth was really more coverage than anything.

“Man I gotta get high,” Merc said after. “You got more scenes, right?”

“A few,” Harry chuckled. They’d be doing several scenes with four different cellmates, though most would be quick. It would be for a transitional montage moving from young Rancid to older Rancid, expressing his long term captivity compared to others.

“I think I’ll watch for a while after smoking up. What are you doing after?”

“I’m working late, Merc, unfortunately.”

“Come by my borrowed crib later? You do get a break. It’s close by.”

“Sure.”

The crib ended up being a pimp’s place and his stable of prostitutes, a lot nicer inside than out in that seedy neighborhood. His stable mixed males and females and the pimp swung both ways. The males were younger than most of the females. The youngest female, looking to be not much older than sixteen, an appealing and petite mix of black and Vietnamese, hit on Harry unfortunately.

The charismatic and charming pimp, a lighter skinned black gentleman with surprising blue eyes, had a useful eccentricity, that of gourmet which Merc actually shared. The oldest prostitute there, a slightly chunky mix of freckled Scotch/Irish and a dash of African American which gave her thick shoulder length hair almost a henna color, her hard light brown eyes glancing only briefly at Harry, cooked a delicious, subtly spiced yakitori.

The half Vietnamese girl kept close to Harry throughout, not saying a word. Her hand rested on his knee in the beginning, and with the gradual movement of a minute hand of a clock, moved it ever closer to his crotch, ending up there while they ate. When their eyes met, she’d giggle.

Conversation remained between the pimp, Merc and Harry, as if the prostitutes weren’t worthy of talking. One by one the prostitutes had a whispered conversation with the pimp and left, often with an aggressive slap on their ass. By the time Harry had long finished his meal, only the youngest and oldest female prostitutes remained. The Vietnamese prostitute had barely been successful with her caresses. Somehow Harry knew not to move her hand away.

“Please,” she finally whispered to him. “You must...”

“Show me your room,” he told her and she smiled.

Her petite hand in his far larger one, she led him into what looked like barracks, four bunk beds and one double bed, the latter where they ended up. She immediately undressed, removing her tight mini-dress and panties. The tightness of her outfit made no surprise of her slim curves and her A cup breasts.

“Please,” she said again, her hands moving to his shirt. He moved her hands away and undressed, making her smile again. She grabbed a tube of lubricant and a condom, pushing the lubricant into her small shaved pussy and putting the condom aside. He lay down and she placed herself between his thighs, leaned down and took his half hard cock into her mouth.

Her small mouth and tongue did well to get him fully hard, her profession after all, and she worked hard to be the best at it, probably in order to get things over with, maybe a touch disappointed that, minutes later, he hadn’t cum yet. She decided to move on, rolling on the condom and straddling his cock and lowering onto it.

“Holy shit you’re thick,” she finally said in a youthful, Orange County accent.

“And you’re fucking tight,” he responded. “Take it slow.”

She did, rising and falling, inching his cock ever deeper, until he encountered her cervix with an inch or so to spare. She shifted forward, looking to measure her shallow depths, and began a lengthy rise and fall. He slipped out once and she quickly returned it to her slit. When it threatened to slip out again, his hand went to his cock, the other one to her small ass, controlling things carefully. “Don’t worry,” he told her.

She nodded and smiled. Her torso lowered even more, so that she rested on her elbows, her hands turned in to work her breasts. Her gasps and moans weren’t all that convincing.

Her fucking quickened until she faked an orgasm. “You didn’t cum,” she pouted.

“Can I turn us over? I promise to be careful.”

She nodded and he easily turned them over, lifted her legs high and angled low, measuring her depth, and began stroking into her, his hands taking over the breast massage and the nipple caressing. “Rub yourself,” he told her.

She did, and the effectiveness of his strokes and her rubs surprised both of them so that when he sped up into a friction that encouraged and eventually created an orgasm, she had already reached hers, and unless she had acting skills beyond the pale, and the shimmers and throbs inside her and the easier gliding of his cock into greater wetness tended to prove otherwise, as did the near silence of her vocalizing instead of the performance before, it was wonderfully real for her.

“Holy shit,” she murmured as he carefully withdrew his diminished cock. “That was a first.”

“First time cumming while fucking?” he asked.

“Sorry.”

“Try being quieter when you fake it, like how it was when it was real.”

“They have to think...”

“I know. Tell them what a great cock they have and what a great fuck they are, but maybe quieter?”

She giggled. “Okay. I heard you were a great actor.”

“Think of it as coaching lessons.”

She giggled again and gave him a quick kiss.

“How old are you honestly?” he asked.

“Eighteen. I know I look younger.”

“You definitely do. How long have you been...?”

“Hooking? Just a few months. I suppose I was underage for a couple of those.”

“School?” Harry asked.

She shook her head.

“Runaway?”

“Quint found me. The girls tell me I’m lucky.”

“Do you feel lucky?”

She shrugged. “Thanks for fucking me.”

Harry laughed. “My pleasure. Does he...?”

“For guests, yes. Unless they’re into boys of course.”

“If I hadn’t fucked you?”

“He’d have been disappointed.”

“So not so lucky then,”

She shrugged again.

When they got up and she carefully enclosed the condom in a Kleenex, tossing it into a covered garbage can, he dressed and grabbed his wallet, handing her a couple hundred dollars.

“You don’t have to, but thanks.”

“Do you have to tell him?”

“It’s best if I do.”

“Best to be honest?”

“Yep. I need to clean up.”

“I probably won’t see you again.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Have to get back to work.”

She stood on the bed and pulled him into a lingering kiss, no tongue but nice. “You know where I am,” she said.

“I won’t be back,” Harry told her.

She nodded, disappointed. She took his left hand and played with his marriage band.

“Happily,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have...”

“I’m glad you did,” she smiled.

He gave her a quick kiss. “Me too.”

He thanked Quint and said goodbye to Merc since the big guy was heading back home the next morning.

“You want an escort?” Merc asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said. It was only a couple blocks to the lot.

Merc of course handed him a few thick rolled joints in a tin.

Harry’s evening with the Latina hotty, the last one, was a temptation. Both of them flirted relentlessly between takes.

When they finished and she sat on the hood of his rental while they smoked a joint, she apologized. “I hope you know it was just fun. I have a wonderful lady waiting for me at home.”

Harry chuckled. “Too bad.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ll be featured in my fantasies.”

“Not really,” Harry smirked. “You’re bi?”

“Not for a while. I’m in love.”

“Congratulations.”