Chapter 6: Climbing

A few days after my first night with three men, Damien called me with big news: "You are going to love me for this one, baby. I got you a cover!"

I started yelling and almost dropped the phone. Thank goodness I was in my apartment at the time, because someone might have thought I was being raped. I did manage to knock my mug of tea off the kitchen counter when I bumped it with my hip during all the jumping. The crash echoed loudly and I yelped.

"What was that?" Damien asked, "Are you all right?"

I laughed into the phone as I stepped away from the shards. My feet were bare and the last thing I needed was a trip to the ER.

"I told you you'd move up, didn't I?" he asked.

I wanted to shove my lips through the phone and plant a big kiss on his lips. "Thanks, Damien, you were worth every bit of the move. I love you!"

"Wait. Wait. Wait! I'm not done, girl. The cover is for FHM."

This time I dropped the phone. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I grabbed the nearest chair to support myself. From the floor, I heard Damien's voice. "Felicia, are you okay? You still there?"

After pulling all my unraveled composure back together, I picked up the phone. "How in the hell did you get FHM for me?"

"It was easy. Their next big issue is called "Diamonds in the Rough." Ninety-nine undiscovered models. You are on the cover. I'm so proud of you. I sent them your Fire and Ice photos. I think they called the second after they finished wiping their pants. You've got it, baby."

I had IT. The thought made me giggle and squirm with childish glee. "How can I thank you? I'll do anything you want."

"Don't worry about it. You pay me twenty percent and give awesome head. That's enough for me. But I'm cooking up an awesome surprise for you. No other guys this time. You're going to love it."

Out of coherent words to say, I hung up and jumped, screamed, hollered, and bit on a pillow until I could calm down. I called my parents first. I got my mom and told her the news. Her first question was, "Is it a porno magazine?" When I told her it wasn't, she was thrilled. My dad, of course, knew all about FHM and thought it would be weird to see me on the cover, but he was also excited. Adrienne didn't answer her phone, so I told her to call back because I had HUGE news. Then I texted everyone on my contact list and started cleaning up my spilled tea with shaky hands.

The best thing about the shoot was that Damien was able to secure James as my head photographer. I had to drive down to L.A. for it, but I didn't care at all. I don't think James minded, either. Three photographers were on the set, all doing the FHM models in the same day at the same time. My shots were handled by James. So were thirty-two other girls'.

"Hey darling, are you looking for me?" an older voice asked.

I turned to see Trudy approaching with her large makeup case and my first outfit. I changed into it while she and I chatted excitedly about the cover.

"You're losing weight, aren't you?" she commented while watching me slip into the outfit.

"I don't know, am I?" I looked myself over in the mirror and saw that I indeed had lost a little weight. I wasn't unnaturally thin, but a teeny pinch of flesh had left my stomach, thighs, hips, and ribs. My boobs were fairly untouched, but even my face looked somewhat thinner. "Yeah. Maybe I have."

Trudy knew what a big deal the shoot was for me, so she went out of her way to do an amazing job on my makeup and hair. Then a set coordinator came over to me and discussed different poses and the other outfits they wanted me to wear during the shots. Along with the cover, they planned to interview me and do a four page spread on me as the "number one undiscovered." After speaking with the set coordinator, I was taken to a small corner of the studio where a video camera and chairs had been set up. Another woman named Margie began an interview. We discussed things like my experience in modeling, my backup plans, my likes and dislikes about men and sex, and other hobbies I enjoyed. She was a natural interviewer, and I found myself quickly spilling things that I normally wouldn't say in interviews. I made sure to give nothing away about Damien and myself, but I gave her some awfully candid answers that my mother might blush at when the issue hit the stands.

Not long later, my first shoot began. Damien showed up moments before. I knew he'd come to see my first cover. The aura he brought just by smiling at me filled me with an amazing energy. I dazzled the camera and James. I sent every lusty fuck signal I could to the lens, even making James, who normally is quite the stoic photographer, have to adjust his pants. Damien gave me a sly thumbs up when James finally called it a wrap and told me to go change into my next outfit.

"How's it going? You're looking good out there," Damien said. James walked past us to set up the next camera and throw a new card in his memory deck. "Don't need any help do you?"

I knew he meant to ask if I needed coke, but I didn't. He followed me to the changing room and watched me with greedy eyes as I slipped into my next outfit, a black tight pair of panties with a white bra. Then we went back to Trudy for new makeup.

"Don't let me forget," Damien added, "it's payday today. Before you go I've got your collections from the last few weeks."

I grinned greedily and clapped my hands. "Money, money, money!"

Damien and Trudy both chuckled at me. He stayed and chatted with us while Trudy worked, then headed over to schmooze with the FHM folks and some other models. When Trudy finished, I wandered around the set for a bit, chatting with a couple other girls who were sipping on water or diet sodas. All of us were fairly new in the business, only a handful of years or less, but almost everyone I talked to saw this as a big break.

A group of ten of us were gathered around watching the shoots and gossiping about things we'd heard around the town when one of the girls complained about her leg itching. I'd caught her name already: Margaret. She was a skinny girl, not too tall, but with big eyes, healthy breasts, and a nice bright smile that matched her silky reddish brown hair. When she leaned down to scratch her leg, she smacked her head hard on the table.

I left the group of staring girls and went to help Margaret. "Are you all right?" I asked. Her eyes were a little out of focus for a minute.

"She needs ice! Hurry!" I told her makeup girl, then helped Margaret back into her chair from where she'd hit the floor. Several other studio hands were running over to see what the commotion was, including James and Trudy.

Margaret held her head with her hand, swearing at herself. Between her fingers I could see a nice lump forming. "Where's the ice!?" I asked.

Margaret's makeup girl arrived with an ice pack and I helped apply it. The chief art director came over and examined the bump and determined that she could still pose if the lump stopped swelling soon. He decided they could bump her number to last in the shoot and edit out any residual swelling that didn't go down by then. Margaret gave me a little pout and said, "Thanks, Felicia, I owe you one."

I gave her a little hug and then heard my name being called for another session with James. The second part of my shoot lasted thirty minutes. Then I headed back to change and wait again. I found Margaret and sat with her. The swelling had gone down quite a bit, almost back to normal but with a nice green and purple spot right at the top of the lump. She thanked me again and we launched into chit-chat about our careers.

"I'm too small for the business," she commented with a sad smile. "The only reason I got this bit is because I know one of the editors of FHM. I haven't even told my agent that. I've got her—my agent, I mean—looking into some other stuff. I've got a scene in some Hustler series in a month. I mean, I can decide to drop if I want, but I don't know. I need the money."

"Have you done porn before?" I asked her.

"No." When she shook her head, the ice bag rattled and sloshed, and she almost dropped it.

I watched her eyes and could see the uncertainty in them. She didn't want to do porn, I could tell. "Why do it, then? That's a really tough industry, too."

"Yeah, but I'm not really good at anything else. I tried waitressing, but I always messed up orders. I was a secretary, but my boss fired me because I wouldn't go down on him ... and I sucked at my job. Porn doesn't care how tall you are. Everyone wears big stilettos and ends up on their backside."

I chuckled at her comment. "Yes, that's true. You just have to decide for yourself if that's something you can live with doing. My mom and dad sat me down when I told them I was going into modeling. Lots of girls go from acting or modeling into porn. They asked me if I wanted to have kids, and I said yes, someday I do. They asked me how I would feel if my mom had been a porn star and all the kids in school had seen her naked and having sex with lots of men or women. The thought of being teased like that mortified me, and I decided I would never do anything nude. Even the artsy stuff some actresses do, all they're remembered for is the nude scenes. It made sense to me."

Margaret's eyes were so full of adoration, it was almost scary. "Wow. I never thought about all that stuff. I want to have kids, too." Then her eyes brimmed with tears. "But I'm not even good at modeling!" She pointed to her forehead and started to sob.

I took her hand in mine and held it, then pulled her close for a hug. A couple of the models across the set stared at me like I was crazy. I ignored them. "You'll find something you like. Don't worry. You're what, twenty?"

"Eighteen," she stated through her tears. "But I'm almost nineteen."

"Have you thought about college?"

She shook her head. "I'm not very smart. I did well in art stuff, but math and English were HORRIBLE. I don't know. Maybe my kids won't find out. If I use a soodoname ... I just need the money so I can pay my rent."

I let her faux pas slide. Then an idea struck me. "I'm actually looking for a permanent roommate. If you're looking to save a few bucks, you could move in with me-- well, if you're not really obnoxious, messy, and don't have pets."

Margaret looked at me and sniffed. She looked so young and pathetic, I almost laughed. "I don't even really know you that well. Seriously? I'd love to come by the place and see it, you know, check it out."

"Sure, why not come over tonight and have a look. I have a girl, another model, she's a part-time resident. But she'd probably just sleep in my bed." I gave Margaret a wink.

"Oh shit, are you a lesbian?" She covered her mouth.

"No, but I do enjoy fooling around."

I wasn't sure if Margaret was horrified or astounded. She coughed and then sputtered. "I'm sorta like that, too, but everyone tried to convince me I must be a lesbian if I like kissing girls. I mean, I've never gone all the way, but at parties I've made out with girls to impress guys."

I smiled. She was in no way shape or form a lesbian. But still, any girl had potential. "So follow me back to my place tonight and I'll show you around. If you say no, I really won't care."

"Cool. Thanks."

We continued talking until James summoned me yet again for the third part. The shoot grew more difficult as the day wore on. It's hard keeping the energy up for such a long time. Models really can't eat heavy food the day of a shoot because of bloating and stomach pooching and all that, so all I could have was caffeine, and my body was beginning to get sick of riding the highs and lows of caffeine's effect. I knew if I didn't keep up my performance, Damien would try to get me to take more coke, and I didn't want any. However, during my fourth shoot I felt my energy really waning, and sure enough, Damien pulled me aside.

"You look bored, Felicia," he said. "You can't look bored in FHM. You can't look bored ever. What's the matter? This is your shot."

"I know. I know. I know." I gave him my best smile. "I'll get it done. Sorry."

I wanted to tell him that between the increased number of shoots, the added stress of his management style, and the regular fuck sessions in his penthouse were starting to wear me down, but I couldn't say any of this. I saw James glance over in our direction as he waited for me to return to the set for the session. Not wanting to keep him waiting or make any of the FHM people angry, I hurried Damien out of site and took a long snort of the blow in his pouch. The wave hit me hard and suddenly I was back.

At the end of the session, most of the models had left and the crew members were either standing around talking to girls or striking the set. Margaret sat on a chair waiting for me to finish. James and several others congratulated me on my accomplishment and on the great photos, then Damien sauntered up with a big grin. "I'm pretty sure you're going to be hearing from FHM again. But we'll see. Let me give you your checks."

He pulled out an envelope from his inner pocket and handed them over. I thumbed through the small stack of eight checks: one for each week of hard work. As I looked over the amounts written to me from Damien, I noticed that more than the twenty percent had been deducted from the fees from the photographers. I asked Damien about it and he didn't seem surprised at all.

"Yeah, handling fees, babe. You don't think the blow you use on set is free, do you?" The expression on my face made me feel stupid for even asking. "You don't think I come to your shoots for free, do you? While I was here today, I was setting you up with new gigs. That's more than worth an extra five or ten percent, right?"

It made sense to me ... sort of. In the back of my mind, I knew he was being slightly unethical, but at the same time, the checks in my hand (like he'd promised) were almost double what I'd earned in two months with Marcos. Why should I complain? Damien excused himself quickly, saying he had some arrangements to pull together. Once he'd left, James came over to me.

"Everything okay?" he asked. The tone in his voice and the expression on his face told me of his concern. I stopped and considered him longer than I normally would. I hit me that I took him and Trudy for granted. They were good friends. And James was handsome, not on the level of Rob or Damien, but sort of a everyman type of good-looking. He had a trustworthy, honest face. This was also the first time I realized that he wasn't as scrawny as I'd initially thought. Yes, he was slender, but one look at his arms holding a case of lenses made me see that he had taut, wiry muscles that were strong and quick.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me."

James' eyes followed the direction of Damien. "If he's not treating you right—"

"No, really, he is. Everything's fine."

James nodded, but he didn't believe me. "Let me just say—and you know I don't give out advice often—I think you deserve someone better than him and the way he treats you."