Chapter 1: American Dream

The blonde girl grunted as she was thrown forward over the arm of the chair. Her large breasts swung as the guy behind her slammed his hips forward, droplets of sweat flying off the pair of them with each impact of flesh on flesh. The blonde's face screwed up into a pained expression, as a wail escaped her throat. Her back arched and she let out a scream as she lifted one hand back around to caress the man's face. He reached a hand around her midsection and grasped one of her tits, giving it a squeeze, never once letting up with his strokes in and out of her.

The man pulled out of her and jerked her back by the hair. Throwing her to the floor, he started to jack off right in her face, aiming his cock directly at the blonde's open mouth. She had immediately gone into a kneeling position, her head thrown back and her eyes closed as she braced for his orgasm. With a growl, the man's cock jumped in his hand once, then twice, then a long white rope of cum shot out its tip, hitting the blonde directly across the bridge of her nose. Jets of sperm painted a pattern on her face, and as his orgasm wound down, one of her hands came up to gently stroke his member. Most of his load had sprayed across her features, and she stroked him while kissing the tip of his cock. She turned then to one side, looking directly at the camera, and spoke.

"Hope you're enjoying your conference, sweetie. I know I am..."

"And CUT!"

At my call, the silence ceased and flurries of activity broke out right and left. The blonde lady immediately grabbed a towel that was being handed to her by her assistant and started to clean off her face. The black man took a few steps back and reached out a large hand for a white bathrobe which had been hanging just off-camera.

"So we done then, Mac? That's really all they wanted?"

"Yeah, D, we're all set. That was the cumshot we needed to rewrite the ending. Thanks for coming out for such a short shoot. You too, Shannon."

"Whatever," she spat in my direction as she stalked by on her way to her trailer, presumably for a long shower.

Dimetrius, who worked under the stage name of "Big D", glanced my way and we both smirked a little bit. He began to make his way to his own trailer, his assistant trailing along behind. I watched him go, then turned to Dave, who was already queuing up the replay for me. I watched on the tinny little screen as a replay of the impressive orgasm showed from first one angle, then a second, then the last.

"Good stuff, Dave. Good work. Get it all processed and get it sent over to whoever the contact was over at Timid Pictures. I think this'll finally get them off our asses."

"It goddamn better. This was the fifth fucking re-shoot we had to do. I don't blame Shannon for being pissed. I was pissed to get the call, and I didn't even have to take one of D's loads across my chin."

"More's the pity. You know you'd love it, Dave. You know, I bet I could get him to come back out here and help you out, if you want..."

"Fuck you, Mac. I know you'd probably love to see that. Well, sorry to spoil your fun, but in case you hadn't heard the rumor... I prefer hair pie. Which would be why I never accept your invitations to 'lunch'..."

We worked as we talked, used to the routine. Dave was busy unplugging all the power and interface cords from his cameras, and I was arranging all my notes for the day's shoot into some semblance of order.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't get all defensive just because I interrupted your precious little vacation. You know you wanted to be here. You wouldn't want anyone else to be shooting even a few frames of your precious little movie."

"Whatever. So I'm a perfectionist. That's why you hired me. Now, if you're quite through, Come gimme a hand with this tripod so we can get the hell outta here. I do believe you've got someone waiting for you at home? How happy was Marcie to hear you got called back in?"

I took one end of the tripod and lifted it up so Mac could fold each of the legs under and secure it.

"Marcie never complains... much. She knows what the deal is, and any time she starts to feel aggravated, she just looks around. It's great money, and she knows it. But you're right, I do gotta get back. Thank god we were able to get this in one take. Let me know what they tell you, will ya?"

I set the much shorter tripod back down, and Mac grabbed the case for it and got it all boxed up, safely protected by layers of Styrofoam.

"Sure thing, Mac. I've got 10 more days on my vacation, and there are some premium beaches on my list to visit. Leave me a message when you find out what and when we're shooting next, will ya?"

"You know it, Dave. Take it easy."

"You too."

With that, I folded up of my pretentious "Director" chair and shook my head from side to side, clearing out the kinks. I waved to Dimetrius, who was emerging from his trailer dressed in a lime green sweatsuit, and he waved back. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the exit.

I pulled up to the security gate in our apartment, and remembered to turn down my stereo. There was a strict Homeowner's Association rule about noise levels in the neighborhood. I had actually gone to a meeting at one point to request that this rule be eased, but the bad thing about living on a golf course is that most of your neighbors are old enough to remember seeing The Beatles on something besides a VH1 documentary. My motion had been soundly defeated, and I hadn't bothered to try again. Instead, I had invested in some really nice headphones, and some soundproofing for the house. I made due as best I could.

I buzzed our number at the gate, and I could hear Marcie's sweet voice a moment later.

"We don't want any. Go away."

"It's me, darling. Your prince on his white horse."

"Hmmmm... Don't know any princes. But we'll take the horse. Leave it tied to the gate and we'll be out in a few hours for it."

"Love you too, sweetie."

The gate's motor kicked on and started to buzz open. For such an exclusive community, I always wondered how hard it would be to replace the tired old gate with something a bit more... befitting. The thoughts cleared my head as I cleared the threshold, though, and I headed town the pretty little private lane to our humble home. I pulled into the circular drive and parked my Jeep at the curb. Before I could get the door open, the door the house banged loudly as two little blurs emerged, screeching and yelping.

"Daddy!"

"Dad!"

Sam and Laney came dashing to my side, and I handed each one a bag, Sam my laptop case and Laney my backpack. Both pieces of luggage immediately hit the ground as four little arms reached for me, demanding to be picked up. I squatted down and scooped both of them up in my arms, then gave them each a huge kiss on their cheek. A practiced chorus of "Ooooh GROSS" emerged, and I joined in with gusto. Both kids tried to tell me about their morning at the same time, and I had to issue the call to order.

"Enough! One at a time. And we still need to get these bags. So Sam, you grab one, and your sister'll grab the other, then we'll pretend we're normal human beings and WALK, not run, up and into the house. That way I can say hi to Mommy, and then I'll tell you all about my trip."

Both kids wriggled their way out of my arms, and Sam grabbed my laptop case. Laney attempted to fight him for it, since it was by far the lighter of the bags, but Sam snatched it away from her and headed for the stairs, obeying the letter of the law by walking as fast as his little legs could carry him. Laney swung the backpack up and over her shoulder, pulling her long hair out of the way of the strap with her opposite hand, and started to make her way after her older brother. I closed the door to the Jeep and walked around the back to follow them.

Mandy stood at the top of the steps, her arms crossed and a mock scowl on her face.

"Where's the fuckin horse, Mac?"

"I love you too, sweetie."

Dinner that night was nothing spectacular, as Mandy was nothing too special in the kitchen. I told the kids all about the long drive out to the coast, and related with great relish a story about being able to see the whales along the coastline as I was headed home. They both were curious when my next trip would be, and I had told them that I wasn't sure yet, but that I would be sure to let them know. In the short term, though, I had promised that we would take the weekend and spend it at the beach house, and my pronouncement had earned me a whole round of kisses and squeals, with a few from Mandy to sweeten the pot, so to speak.

We headed to the living room for some mindless tv, giving Mandy and me a chance to snuggle on the couch for a bit. Before long, though, Laney had started to nod off, and Mandy sent her and her brother off to bed. She and I headed to the sitting room, where she made straight for the bar and poured herself a few fingers of a top shelf brandy. In response to her inquisitive eyebrow, I shook my head as I fell heavily back into the plush loveseat. Mandy brought her glass over and sat on the floor, her back against the cushion and her head on my lap.

"So how was it, really?"

I exhaled, chuckling a little bit.

"It was interesting. The whole thing took about five minutes, but it took two hours to get all set up, and even longer to get the two of them looking as hot and sweaty as they did originally a few months ago. Shannon was WAY pissed, too. She openly complained that she only took the job because we were the ones shooting it for Timid, but that her patience had just about run out. That girl's a pro, but as soon as the cameras stop rolling, she can't wait to get as far away from men as possible."

"So why does she do it? Can't she just make girls only movies?"

"She could, and she's done plenty of them, but she's got the look that all the big studios want these days. That's why Timid hired her, and they want to get all the mileage they can out of her. She's really professional, and can turn it on and off like a light switch. She makes really hot scenes, and the fans just can't get enough. That translates to big bucks for her, so she only has to make between four and six movies a year instead of thirty or forty."

Mandy sighed a bit, swishing her drink around in her hand.

"It's such a strange business... I worry about you being involved with it, with the kids. They're getting old enough now to start asking questions that it's hard to wiggle away from. I hate the thought of outright lying to them, but we might have to start soon. Sam's bright as can be, and he asked me just the other night while you were on assignment what 'exactly' you did for a living."