Chapter 3: Proposal

I sat on the set of "Pure Passion", starring Timid's newest starlet, Passion. Bruce, my latest cameraman, sat in front of his screen, pushing buttons and twiddling dials while we all waited. Passion sat on the edge of the bed, completely nude, and with one of the stage hands spritzing her all over with water from a spray bottle.

"Goddammit, are we ready yet?" Her shrill voice cut through the tense silence. She had proven to be incredibly shrewish, and Bruce's incompetence wasn't helping matters.

"Almost... got it. OK, sorry everyone! We're all set, Mac."

"Thank god." I muttered. "OK people, picking up where we left off, let's get the guys back in scene. Passion, this is the cumshot, so all we need for you to do is..."

"I know what the hell I'm doing. Just make sure your fucking cameraman gets it right this time."

"No problem, P. We're all dialed in... right, Bruce?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. We're all set."

"OK then, positions, everyone... in 3... 2... 1... and action."

At my words the two studs resumed banging her, one in her rear while she rode the other, and she began wailing at the top of her lungs. It was important that the scene look exactly as it had when we had been forced to stop, so the guys had been doused with 'sweat' just as much as Miss Priss. The guys built towards a phenomenal climax, egged on by her ever-more-piercing cries and screams, then one of them tapped her shoulder in an unobtrusive movement. At the signal, both guys withdrew, and Passion spun around on the bed, her head tilted back to accept the loads of both men. They closed ranks, shoulder to shoulder, jerking their pricks and trying to time their orgasms to coordinate. One went over the edge, with Passion cooing all the while, and proceeded to paint her tonsils. The other guy wasn't far behind, but his aim was a bit off, and hit her directly in the right eye. She flinched a bit, but went right back into her pose as spurt after spurt hit her face and lips.

"And... CUT! Bruce, that's a wrap. Cue it up and let's see what we've got. Everyone, that's a wrap for today! Thank you all for your good work and for your patience."

The response to my little speech was less than encouraging, as Passion snatched a robe from her assistant and glared at Bruce like he was something nasty she had just stepped in. Bruce ducked his head close to his little screen, carefully avoiding eye contact with all the cast. With a very unladylike sneer, Passion flipped the bird to the back of Bruce's head and stormed off in a huff. The guys cut out as fast as they could, walking toward separate trailers as they shrugged into their own robes. Within seconds, the sound guy and the two stage assistants had vacated the premises, and it was just me and Bruce.

"OK, Bruce, let's run it through from the beginning, for Camera One."

I leaned down next to him, being careful not to breathe through my nose. Bruce's lunch of preference was Cool Ranch potato chips, and his breath was a treat by the end of the day. I watched as he cued up Camera One, and the footage started to roll. It wasn't anything terrible, but it wasn't Dave's work, either. I watched as the scenes rolled by, noting on more than one occasion that the camera had been blocked by one of the actors.

"Jesus, Bruce... Look, if one of your cameras is blocked, you GOTTA say something. That's your job. I take it for granted that your angles are all good, unless you tell me otherwise. Now sometimes we expect a camera to be blocked, and that's why we run three at a time... but Damn, man... you gotta speak up."

"Sorry, Mac. I didn't realize it was blocked."

I closed my eyes and clenched my fist once or twice at my side, taking careful breaths.

"Bruce... that's your whole fucking job. You have to make sure that we get the action on camera. That's it. I can't fucking do your job and mine, too."

"No, no, Mac. I know, and you shouldn't have to... it won't happen again. I'm sorry, man."

"I fucking know you're sorry, Bruce. You're been sorry over and over. I don't need sorry. I need fucking results. I hired your ass because you got a great recommendation, but shit, man... you gotta do better than this. You just gotta."

"I know, Mac. I got it. OK? I got it... shit..."

I gave Bruce a long look, then just shook my head and looked back at the screen as the final scene played out. The break in action was pregnant even on the replay, and Bruce muttered another halfhearted apology as we waited through it. When the action returned, my jaw dropped.

"Bruce... what the fuck is this?"

Bruce stammered a bit, but managed to squeak out an answer.

"It... Shit... I guess I musta missed this one?"

The image on the screen was a shot of one of the guys' impressive deltoid muscles. Passion couldn't even be seen in the shot.

"Bruce... you better fucking PRAY that you got that shot on one of the other cameras... I shit you not..."

Mandy was a real trooper, and had disinfectant and bandages ready when I got home. She unwound my handkerchief from my bloodied knuckles and sat me down to nurse me.

"Was it really that bad?"

"It was worse, hon. The guy's a fucking MORON!"

Laney's face peeked around the corner, wide-eyed.

"Sorry, sweetie... Daddy had a rough day. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"What happened to your hand, Daddy?" she asked, emerging fully around the corner.

"Daddy... got into a fight at work, sweetie. It was really stupid, and I hurt myself."

"Are you gonna get in trouble for fighting?"

Mandy eyed me at that one, too. I glanced at her and then looked back at Laney.

"No, sweetie, I won't. It just stings a bit, is all. I'm going to be fine, and I promise I won't get in any trouble."

"Kay, Daddy! I'm going over to Jessie's for a while!" With that she flounced out the front door.

Mandy gave me a long look as the door closed behind Laney.

"Mac... ARE you going to get in trouble?"

"I don't see how I could, hon. I fired him first, and didn't hit him until we were outside the studio. I don't think anything'll come of it."

I winced as she cinched the last butterfly bandage closed and started to wrap my hand for me. Silence reigned for a few minutes, then she spoke again.

"So what now? That's the third camera guy you've had, and fired, and it's only been the one picture. You're way behind the deadline, and now you've got nobody to film the final scene for you."

"Again..." I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Seriously, Mac. What are you gonna do?"

I glanced at her and shook my head.

"I dunno, hon. I'll think of something, though."

I sat in my office, absently rubbing my bandaged hand and staring out the window. The light on my phone was flashing, but I ignored the voice mail. I already knew what it was about, and I wasn't up to dealing with it right now. Bruce was gone, but his last fuck-up had been a doozy. The ending scene hadn't been captured on film, from any angle, and would need to be re-shot. I needed to call all the performers back to the set and re-do the scene, but I didn't have a cameraman. I ran through the possibilities in my head, but came up with only one answer. I picked up my phone and dialed from memory.

"Hello?"

"Mac? How the fuck are ya, man? I haven't heard from you in a while!"

"I'm hangin in there, Dave... listen... I need a favor."

Passion really was a pro, for all her bitchiness. She laid back in the perfect position, and the two guys slid into place, waiting for the cue.

"Go on whenever you're ready, Mac. We're all set."

"All right, people. ACTION!"

At my signal the three performers sprang into action, grunting and groaning in concert. In short order the signal was once again given, and Passion got two loads of spunk across her outstretched tongue.

"And CUT! That's a wrap, people. For real this time. I apologize to each of you for the screwup, and I appreciate more than you know how patient you've all been."