Chapter 8

“That was in-fucking-credible,” Mel said as I approached after we wrapped up the shoot. After reaming out Kristi’s arsehole for the camera once she’d gotten used to my girth, I’d finally blasted a load of cum over her face—including over her librarian’s glasses. She’d taken them off during the blowjob at the start of the scene at the same time that I’d taken her hair down out of the bun, but she put them back on for the money-shot. Then she took them off again to lick them clean.

It was obvious why she had such a large fan-base. She was a nasty, nasty slut—in the best possible way, of course.

While Kristi had headed for the shower, someone had handed me a light robe to cover up with and I went to see what my girls thought of my efforts. Mel, evidently, thought I’d done rather well.

“I live-tweeted the whole thing including a few pics. The fans are already going nuts for it, especially that one with your cock up her arse. Here, look.”

She handed me the phone and showed me the tweet in question, which already had over two hundred likes and retweets, which, Mel said, was a good thing.

“Is it right you’re cutting it together rather than Daisy?”

With wide eyes, Mel nodded. “Yeah. Daisy says she’s got too much on her plate right now, so she’s letting me have a go.”

“You should have some good stuff to work with then?”

“Hell, yeah. I was going to start work on it this afternoon but...” She looked at Ashley, whose face was flushed.

“But what?”

“It can wait until the morning.” She leaned in close and whispered, “I think seeing her first real live sex show has gotten someone a little hot and bothered. I’m going to take her back to my flat and ... er... make good on a promise.”

I raised my eyebrows.

Mel leaned away from me again. “Don’t worry. It’s cool. Ash is cool.”

“Just...”

“Just what?”

“Just be careful, okay. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Who’s going to get hurt. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

I held her stare for a few minutes, then nodded. It wasn’t a nod of permission or anything like that. Mel wasn’t my wife or my daughter. She didn’t need my permission to do anything she wanted. But I cared about her.

She smiled at me. Not a predatory smile, or a lustful one, or a smirk. Just a genuine smile. Then she nodded too and left, putting her arm around Ashley’s waist as she led her from the studio.

Emma was waiting for me in the screening room with Daisy after I had showered and changed.

“Take a seat,” Daisy instructed. “We need your opinion on Kitty and Dick’s scene. This is pretty much the final cut, but I want you to watch it with a critical eye. See if you can see the changes we made from the first cut.”

“If this is the final cut, why do you need my input.”

“We don’t,” said Emma. “This is a lesson. We’re trying to teach you something. So sit down and learn.”

I sat on the sofa between the ex-porn star and the comeback porn star and watched the scene and listened to the commentary from either side of me. It was hard to watch it as a piece of pornography with these two wittering away on either side of me, and that helped me, I think, to view it critically.

Even without Daisy and Emma pointing them out, I could see how it was different from the first cut and I could see how those changes made it better.

I’m not sure the average punter would know the difference—or even care. They’d probably be too busy to notice the editing or how a shot was framed. And I’m sure most of them would be shocked if they knew just how much effort had gone into making something so... artful.

Because that’s what it was. Artful. It was a piece of art.

Yes, it was still explicit hardcore pornography. It was a video of two people having sex and its main purpose was to arouse the viewer.

But it was so much more than that. And not just because it was me and my wife on the screen. It was because of the way it had been filmed and then the way it had edited together. It was an exploration through film of just what sex could be between the right people.

It was moving.

It was dramatic.

It was beautiful.

“So,” Emma said as the credits rolled. “What do you think.”

I looked from her to Daisy and back again. They both looked eager to hear my verdict.

“It’s amazing. I never ... I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, never seen any porn like it. It’s like ... It wouldn’t surprise me if it had come out of Hollywood.”

“Pah!” Daisy said. “Hollywood. This is pure European Arthouse, I’ll have you know.” She grinned. “But I take your meaning. Thank you.”

“When is it released?”

“At the end of the month,” Emma replied. “We’re holding it back and releasing your scenes with the other girls first. Although, after today, we might end up rushing to release you and Kristi first. The reaction Mel got out of the fans with her live commentary was unbelievable.”

“Okay. Whatever you think is best.”

“Oh,” Daisy said. “Jim wants to see you before you leave.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by on my way out.” I paused. “By the way, who was that guy I saw him with while I was on set. I thought I recognised him from somewhere, but it’s hard to really tell when you’re ... er... working.”

“Oh. Him?” Daisy didn’t sound happy. “He’s ... He’s an investor. I think that’s why Jim wants to see you. To introduce him. Well, introduce you to him.”

“Ah,” I said, understanding. “I see.” I turned to Emma. “Why don’t you go on home with Amber and Dom. I’ll be along when I can. This might take a while.”

“Bobby, come in,” Jim said, rising from his seat behind his desk.

I raised an eyebrow at his use of my real name rather than my stage name. After all, he was one of the people telling me to get used to using it whenever I was in front of someone else from the industry.

“I’d like you to meet Arthur Alsworth.” He gestured to the man sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk from him. He hadn’t risen from his seat at my entry. And I think I knew why.

“Thought so,” I said. “I’m not good with faces, especially when they are obscured by the blinding lights of a film set, but I never forget a name. Nice to meet you again, Mr Alsworth.” I offered him my hand, but at a height that meant he had to get out of his seat to take it.

“Again?” He said, gripping my hand firmly. He’d only got up the bare minimum required to reach my hand. “We’ve met before? I don’t recall.”

“Just once. It was a few years ago now. Shortly after I moved down here from London. You ... You visited my office to discuss potential investment opportunities both for your clients and that your clients could offer me and my clients. You’re a lawyer, correct?” I dragged the spare seat by the wall over the desk and sat down.

Alsworth nodded. “Semi-retired. I consult and advise a select number of clients. Somewhat like yourself, I understand.”

I ignored his quip about me, which was clearly designed to let me know he’d done his homework. “I’ll bet they are select. You had dealings with a friend of mine a couple of years back too. Will Brown?”

“Ah, yes. I remember Mr Brown. Related to his now-fiancée and her now-deceased first husband. They both proved to be ultimately quite co-operative.”

“Quite. What brings you to our studio, Mr Alsworth?”

“Why, your good self, Mr Jones. I was interested to meet my clients’ new co-investor.”

I nodded. I’d been expecting this ever since I’d put money into Jim Lad Productions. And I hadn’t been looking forward to it.

As well as starting up my own production company with Emma and the girls, I’d also invested a sizable sum in Jim and Daisy’s company. Before I’d bought in, they had been the two majority shareholders with a stake of thirty-seven and a half percent each. They had sold seven and a half percent each to me so that between them they still held a controlling stake. I’d retained five percent of the company for myself and then passed on ten percent to my investment company, WestInvest—the company I managed on behalf of the small group of select clients I still had following my retirement as financial advisor.

The remaining twenty-five percent of JLP was held by a shell company, an investment vehicle designed to hide the real identities of the shareholders—much the same as WestInvest hid the identity of my clients. Jim Lad Productions was a limited company and as such the shareholders were a matter of public record. EastEnd Investments was also a limited company but structured in such a way that its ultimate owners were well hidden.

If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about Jim and Daisy’s co-shareholders, then I don’t know what will.

“I’ve been fascinated by your clients too,” I said. “I did wonder who was behind EastEnd. I have to be honest and say I had my suspicions. Now you’ve confirmed them.”

“Mr Jones, I’d be very surprised if you knew the identity of my clients. They do value their privacy.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, after you first came to see me to discuss investments that may have been, shall we say, to our mutual benefit but not without risk, I did some digging.”

“I must warn you, these are dangerous waters you are swimming in, Mr Jones.”

“I’ve swum in far more dangerous waters in my time, Mr Alsworth.”

“I seriously doubt that, Mr Jones.”

I snuck a glance at Jim. He didn’t look the least bit comfortable with the situation. He knew as well as I did the kind of people that Arthur Alsworth represented.

Crooks. Lords of the criminal underworld. Gangsters. Call them what you will, it’s all the same thing. People who didn’t live by the rules laid down for the rest of us. The people who preyed on the weak and the stupid. They provided the services that society deems unworthy—high stakes gambling, money lending to those the banks turn away, prostitution, drugs and, of course, pornography.