Welcome back to the continuation of my oldest story. This is Part 3 Chapter 1. If you haven't read the earlier parts yet you can find them in my archive here.
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"David, move your head a little to your left," I say. "You're half out of the shot."
The boy moves six inches to his right.
"Your other left," I say, a little frustration in my voice.
"Sorry," David says, moving the other way. "Like this?"
"Perfect. Now get back to it."
"Yeah man!" the boy enthuses. He ducks back onto my throbbing hard-on and slurps noisily.
"Oh, that's good," I sigh. "I hope the mic is getting that."
David growls through his mouthful of manhood as he pumps up and down my swollen shaft. At the bottom of every pump I feel the moist walls of his throat caress my cockhead and I know I won't last very long. Normally I would prefer him to take his time, tease me the way he exquisitely does, but we're both anxious to see how this experiment comes out.
"OK baby," I urgently say. "It's happening. Remember not to lean back too far so you stay in frame. Almost… Almost… Now!"
David pulls back and smiles. With a huge moan my gut heaves and I try to keep my hips from thrusting forward. My cum erupts like Vesuvius, a giant six-day load of jizz straight into my boy's gorgeous face.
It paints him diagonally, a line of dripping, pearly goo from his right ear, across his voluptuous lips and all the way to the left corner of his chin. David licks up as much as his little red tongue can reach, whereupon he smacks his lips and lets out a satisfied, "Ahhhh!"
"David, that was amazing!" I say, grinning along with him. It doesn't matter that the two following spurts didn't reach his face, splashing instead onto his neck and chest.
We got the money shot.
"Come on up here," I say. "Let's have a nice cum-face kiss!"
In a second he's there and we are entwined, giggling and smooching, my seed smearing all over both of our faces. After the kiss we turn to face the camera, grinning side-by-side for a five-second pose.
"Can we look now?" he begs, grabbing the handy cum-rag to wipe my mess from his face. "Please?"
"Sure," I say, rolling him off of me and taking the towel from him for my own cleanup. I scoot down the bed toward the camcorder on the tripod, my face filling the screen of the 32-inch Sony Trinitron color monitor that had shortly before shown David's amazing performance.
It's a film only he and I will ever see.
Peering at the tiny, unfamiliar controls I touch the stop button followed by rewind. The tape races backward to the beginning, where it auto-stops, and then I hit play.
"OK," I say, scooting back to recline against the headboard next to David. He's giggling in anticipation as the sexy image comes on.
"There we are!" David exclaims.
In the video he is on his haunches on the bed and I lie supine before him, my cock intensely hard. It seems a Sony Pro-Series Hi8 camcorder is a hell of an aphrodisiac.
"Suck it now, baby," I say on the tape. The audio is loud and clear. "Take that big dick."
On screen my beautiful little bed-buddy eagerly ducks to his task. The Director in me would have re-framed the shot because it needed more nose-room, but the horny pedo in me doesn't care as much about aesthetics.
David and I make excited eye contact while on the video he works my stiffened flesh like a boy possessed. He sucks and sucks, creeping further and further toward the edge of the frame, until finally his head is only half on-camera.
"David, move your head a little to your left," the video me says.
We watch enraptured as the man and boy on screen play out the, er, climax of our little story. I'm even more excited to see myself jizz into David's face on the video than I was in real life.
You can pay better attention when you're not distracted by an orgasm.
"Whoa!" real-life David cries as my onscreen cum splashes across his face. "That's awesome! I remember the time you shot in Kurt's face like that and it was really cool to see, but it's even cooler when it's me!"
"You really made me cum, kiddo," I proudly say. "That's my boy, the best little cocksucker in the Southland."
"Can we film some more?" he eagerly asks. "You also say I'm the best little piece of ass in L.A. I wanna watch you fuck me!"
I'm not hard to convince.
I set the camera up again and arrange us on the bed for decent coverage. I'd love to cut in to close-ups and such but I'll be a little busy, so I settle for a mid-range static shot.
David is so excited as I grease up his eager hole that he can hardly contain himself. He talks a mile a minute about how cool it's going to be seeing my big boner plowing his tight, hairless ass. It's only when I finally thrust into him that he gasps and falls silent, but only for a moment.
"Fuck me, Richard!" he cries. "Pound that ass!"
His excitement is contagious and I begin slamming into him. Our skin slaps loudly with every thrust and for the next several minutes the slapping and our grunts are the only sounds in the bedroom. Soon I feel the old familiar urgency welling up in my gut.
"I'm gonna shoot, baby."
"Do it, Richard!" he gasps. "Fill my ass with your hot cum!"
Five pumps later I do exactly that, three distinct clenches of my muscles, and I feel the spurts firing into my beautiful boy's tight channel. We writhe and groan and gasp until we are spent and finally grind to a stop. I hold it deep inside for a long time until my slackening tool slithers wetly out of him.
"Quick!" he cries. "Get a shot of the cum dripping out!"
Consulting the monitor, I grab his hips and position him perfectly dead-center in the shot.
"Go ahead David," I urge. "Squeeze it out."
His sphincter opens and a glob of grayish white oozes out and down his perineum and balls. It's one of the sexiest things I've ever seen on camera.
I clean up David's hindquarters for him and we eagerly review the video. The picture quality is excellent, even to an old Hollywood hand like me who is used to the product of 35mm Panavision cameras worth fifty times what this little Sony cost. It's a big help that I knew how to light the set— the bedroom, that is. I've seen my share of pornography and its worst failing is usually horrible lighting.
Watching himself get fucked silly is such a turn-on for David that he insists on filming one more scene in which I suck him to a glorious climax of his own. Afterward we snuggle and kiss in blissful and still-excited afterglow.
"Why didn't we ever do this before?" David wonders. "It's so cool!"
"I was afraid to," I explain. "You know this stuff is illegal, right? This is all the evidence they'd need to lock me up for a long time. But the more I thought about it the more I knew it was just too hot to pass up."
"I'm sure glad you changed your mind," he said with a very libidinous smile.
"Just remember, this tape is only for us David. It goes straight into my safe and we don't even mention it outside of this house, OK?"
"I'll keep it secret," David says. "If it got out it would ruin both our careers."
"Yeah," I say, "but the really bad part would be my ass going to jail, right?"
"Right, right," David agrees, but I suspect my fate takes second place in his priorities.
He's a child, I remind myself, and children are naturally self-centered, not to mention the negative role-model his mother has been. I actually understand somewhat, since making it in Hollywood does require a fairly single-minded obsession with career advancement. You don't have to be heartless about it, but heartless people are often the ones who get ahead.
Not that David is heartless. Far from it, but he really wants that career.
"Let's watch it again, all the way through," David urges, and I chuckle and agree. We gently play with each other the whole time, until by the end both of us are achingly horny and we tape ourselves making love one more time. This session is slow and passionate, with deep kisses and even deeper penetration until we explode together one final time.
I know I often say this, but it just might be the best sex we've ever had.
I startle awake in the most delightful way possible: a giggling naked boy landing heavily on my stomach. I can hear the toilet tank re-filling and I know that David had been awakened from our brief post-coital nap by his full bladder. As soon as my wits return I wrestle him onto his back and tickle him into fits of uncontrolled laughter.
After thirty seconds of paroxysms I relent and allow the poor kid to breathe. I hold him tightly and nuzzle his sweet neck, feeling closer to him than any time I can remember.
I hold him for a long time.
"Richard?" he finally breaks the silence. "Do you love me?"
I am stunned speechless. I push back and look into his eyes.
"My Mom says you do and that's why you're so easy to control." He cocks his head and peers up at me. "So do ya?"
I have been so conflicted these past months, wanting to tell him but scared shitless that it will change things, that perhaps he'll see it the way his mother does, as a weakness to be exploited. Still the truth wells up inside of me until I am bursting with it.
"Yes," I answer with naked sincerity. "David, I love you with all my heart. You're everything to me."
It's cheesy and corny but I need him to know, screw the consequences. He smiles.
"Yeah, I thought so. My Mom wants to use it against you but I don't. I think it's cool."
Cool?
That's not quite the answer a man hopes for when declaring his love. Sure, maybe Oh Richard! I'm yours forever! might be asking too much, but I wouldn't have minded a simple I love you too.
I clear my throat, and I think David knows it's a stalling tactic. I calm myself and focus on his eyes but I still can't read him. Does he want me to press it, lavish my love upon him, or does he want me to downplay it and take the pressure off.
Actually he doesn't seem to feel any pressure either way.
"I don't want to control you, Richard," he says. "Not like those other guys."
"What other guys?"
"The other pedos," he says. "I didn't mind working them, but I don't want to do that to you."
"What does that mean, David? Working them?"
"You know," he offhandedly says, "flattering them, flirting with them, letting 'em know they can do stuff to me if they give me jobs."
"You mean like you did with me that first time, when you read for the fruit juice commercial."
David looks a trifle embarrassed, which I take as a good sign.
"Yeah, but that was before I knew you," he says. "Mom could tell right away that you liked boys and you thought I was hot, so when she made an excuse to leave us alone that was my cue to go for it. That's how she always does it, makes some excuse to leave me alone with the guy so I can get him to do stuff to me."
Classic honey pot entrapment, I think. Like a B/L version of "Double Indemnity" with me in the Fred MacMurray role.
"So it was all Wanda's idea for you to suck and fuck your way into Hollywood?"
"Well, yeah," he replies in a no shit kind of way. "I was only seven the first time and I didn't know nothin' about sex and pedos and all that."
David falls silent for a second, until I see in his eyes that he's decided to spill it to me.
"There was this photographer named Andrew who took pictures for catalogs. We went to his studio for test shots and Mom noticed how he was lookin' at me, you know, the way boylovers do. He went out of the room for a minute and she told me to be nice to him, to sit on his lap and kiss him on the cheek and stuff, and to let him do whatever he wanted to me. She said no matter what keep smiling and make him think I like it."
"So she made up some excuse to leave you two alone?"
"Yeah, and I climbed up on his lap and kissed his cheek and told him what a nice man he was, and pretty soon he was feeling me up. And you know what? I didn't even have to pretend I liked it! I got a big hard boner and pretty soon he took my pants down and played with it and sucked it. It felt great, and I wanted him to do it more.
"When he asked me to suck his I was scared because I thought it would taste like piss or something, but I knew my Mom would punish me if I didn't do everything Andrew wanted. That turned out OK too because it didn't taste bad and I liked how it made him happy."
"So I guess he put you in the catalog, huh?"
"Yeah, like three times. But that wasn't enough for my Mom. She took him aside and talked to him all quiet and he got a little upset and scared, but finally I saw him nod his head yes. I started getting better modeling jobs right away until finally he got me into a two-page spread in Vanity Fair. Me and this really pretty little girl modeled Versace Kids next to all these grownups. And then when the magazine came out and Mom saw I was really in it she dropped me off at Andrew's house for a sleepover, and that was the very first time I ever got fucked."
"Holy shit!" I exclaim. "And you were only seven?"
"I was eight by then," he says, as if that made a difference.
"He sat me on his lap just like the first time he touched me, only this time we were naked and he put it right up my butt. He used lots of lube and his cock is a lot smaller than yours so it hardly even hurt."
"Did you like it?" I ask, getting horny yet again.
"Not the first time, but I didn't hate it either. Andrew was really nice and I liked making him happy so I let him do what he wanted. And by the third sleepover I really liked having it in me."
The image in my head had my cock throbbing like rarely before.
"After a while Mom had enough of magazine work. She wanted me acting, so she took me to this theater agent named Walter-something and he fucked me too. He wasn't near as nice as Andrew but he got me some background roles in local productions and taught me how auditions and everything work."
"But the sex was no good?"
"No," David says flatly. "He did it way too hard to feel good and as soon as he was done he just kinda threw me out. That's why I didn't mind my Mom messin' with him, saying she'd call the cops if he didn't get me better roles. That's how I got to be understudy for Patrick in Auntie Mame. I never went on but I got to rehearse with the main cast and that was cool. Oh! And I made friends with one of the boys who rotated the role of Patrick — you know how they rotate 'cause of the child labor laws — and he let me fuck him! My dick was still pretty small but I got it in."
"Nice," I say with a grin. "Did he fuck you too?"
"Nah. He was strictly bottom. All he wanted was to blow me and get fucked. It was nice though, and he got his TV agent to let me read for him, but I kind of messed up with that guy. He was straight and he freaked out a little when I put the moves on," David says. "That's when my Mom taught me how to spot pedos for myself, so I wouldn't go hittin' on straight guys and getting a reputation."
"Yeah? What did she tell you?"
"Mostly to watch their eyes," David says. "Most men hardly make any eye contact with a kid, but boylovers look me right in the eyes because they really want to connect. Some straight guys are good with kids that way too, so I also check to see if they sneak looks at my body when they think I'm not watching. That's why I wear tight jeans, and especially shorts when it's warm, so they can see my bare legs and the shape of my butt. That gets 'em every time."
"Is that what got me?" I ask a bit sheepishly. Nobody likes to acknowledge how transparent and shallow they are.
"Yeah, but then you really surprised me," David brightly says. "You treated me like a person, not just some piece of ass. You talked to me like I was somebody worth talking to, and even better somebody worth listening to! Your eyes were kind and I knew you liked me, even though I could tell you didn't like my Mom. I really really hoped you were a pedo so we could do stuff, and then we did really great stuff! And then you helped with my career too so Mom was happy and everything was perfect!"
"She doesn't seem all that happy to me," I say, remembering our many blowups and her many threats.
"She thinks it's taking too long, but I know I have to learn the craft or my career's gonna flame out by the time I'm sixteen."
That's word-for-word what I had been telling him, so it's some vindication for me that he values my opinion more than his mother's.
Not that David has any say in anything. Wanda is a steamroller, and steamrollers gotta steamroll.
"Richard?" David suddenly asks in the exact same tone as before. "You know I love you back, right?"
"I'll have the Cobb salad," Jen says, snapping the menu closed, "dressing on the side, and an iced tea."
"Very good," the delicately handsome young waiter says with little interest, scribbling on his order pad. He takes the menu from Jen and secures it under one arm. "And what would you like, sir?"
You, ten years ago, I think, but all I say is, "The chicken pesto panini, house salad with ranch, and a Sam Adams when you get a second."
"Right away, Mr. Howell," he says and gives me much longer eye contact than is remotely necessary. With a thousand-watt smile he takes my menu and hurries away, flexing his Pilates-tight buns all the way.
"OK," Jen says. "Any guesses which team he bats for?"
"Not necessarily," I say. "He knows my name but I don't know him from that palm tree. I'll bet he recognizes me from the DGA luncheon here last week. Just once I'd like to order from a waiter who is just a waiter, not an actor-slash-waiter hoping to snag an audition."
"The Directors Guild had a function poolside at the Beverly Wilshire? What did you do, take over the whole restaurant?"
"There were only nine of us," I explain. "Rules committee meeting. He must have heard someone call me by name."
"Maybe," Jen says, "but that smile looked to me like more than just show business."
"It's possible," I concede. "That happens too."
"What if he's not an actor?" she presses. "Would you be interested? He's definitely cute."
Obviously I can't tell her the real reason Pilates-butt isn't doing it for me. Of course he's had way too many birthdays, but mainly I'm still flying high from the most beautiful boy in the world saying he loves me back.
"I only have eyes for you, Jen," I say, turning it into a cheesy joke.
"Don't toy with me, Richard," she says with absurdly exaggerated melodrama. She's trying to sound jokey too but I see a little of that old longing in her eyes.
I love Jen but she really needs to take the hint.
"What about you?" I ask. "Any cute actor-slash-waiters in your life?"
She snorts a scoffing laugh.
"The actors in my life aren't waiting tables, they're waiting for their balls to drop. That's the price of being a kids' casting agent."
"Which brings me to the reason for this lunch," I say, and she looks as grateful to end the awkwardness as I am. "Remember that kid in my Afterschool Special? The blond boy you said had a look?"
"Sure," she replies. "David, um… Furth."
"Yeah," I say smiling. "Good memory."
"What about him?"
"He really impressed me," I say. "He needs some experience but I think I could get a lead performance out of him in the right property. You're tuned into all the upcoming projects with parts for kids. I'm hoping you can give me a heads-up on something David and I could do together."
"And what sort of project would that be?" she asks, getting interested. "What would be right for him?"
"I think something smaller, not too much pressure, like made-for-TV. There should be a physical element, sports maybe, because he really moves well, and ideally I'd like him to play some emotional scenes too. Imagine those amazing blue eyes in a super close-up. Not boy-girl romantic though, no cutesy puppy-love stories like A Little Romance. I think he's still a bit young for that."
"Love for his mother perhaps?"
"Along those lines, sure," I say, adding in my head, He'd really have to be a great actor to pull that off.
"I can keep an eye out," Jen says. "If you say he's got something he probably does. You certainly steered us right with Kurt Simmons. They love him over at Touchstone, and in fact he's up for one of the leads in a Christmas made-for-TV they're shooting in Vancouver over the summer."
"Christ, Christmas in July," I scoff. "Poor kid's gonna have to act like he's freezing while sweating bullets in a parka."
"If any kid can handle it Kurt can," she says. "He's really terrific. Thank you again for sending him our way."
"And thank you again for dealing with his asshole father."
We share a smile remembering that dickhead getting his ass handed to him. Just then the waiter comes with my beer and as I thank him the flirtation in his eyes is unmistakable. He rushes away again and I turn back to Jen.
"Yeah, OK," I say. "I see it now. Your gaydar is getting better than mine."
"Women have an advantage," she says. "From grade school on we have daily practice figuring out which guys are hitting on us…"
She makes firm eye contact with me.
"…and which aren't."
That makes me feel guilty somehow, like I'm letting her down by not returning her romantic interest. I've always been honest with Jen about "the team I bat for" and never once led her on. Maybe it's just that I like her so much I can't stand to be the cause of her dismay.
I must have an upset look on my face because Jen leans closer to speak softly.
"Listen, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. Of course only you know how you feel, but it's also true that sometimes people aren't just one thing, you know? Like sometimes attraction is about the person, not the gender."
I have no idea what to say so I say nothing. Jen takes this as an invitation to keep talking.
"Like for example, my whole freshman year at Smith… My roommate... well, you get the idea."
I can't stop my eyes from widening.
"Yeah, I know," she sighs. "Big cliché. Eighteen years old, away from home for the first time at a women's college… Gotta try pussy, right? Gotta prove I'm a big ol' liberal feminist. But the thing is I kept right on, way after the novelty wore off. Truth is I liked it, and I liked Amy. To this day if the vibe is right..."
I'm shocked but I guess I shouldn't be. Much weirder stuff goes on in Hollywood, like Directors fucking their 11-year-old actors. And now I guess I know why she latched onto my gayness so hard. She identifies with it.
"My point is, Richard, any two people can be right for each other no matter how their bits fit together. I think you're really terrific. Couldn't we just, you know, give it a try?"
"I have tried, Jen," I say, finding my tone apologetic. "I experimented too you know, but there just wasn't any wind in my sail."
"Dead calm?" she asks, disappointed.
"Drifted for an hour. Finally had to be towed back into port."
She's silent for a few seconds, not looking at me. I don't know if she's embarrassed for herself or for me.
"I think we've exhausted the sailboat metaphor," she finally says, turning to face me. "Let's just go out together, Richard, and see how it goes. Dinners, movies, concerts... Two friends having fun. What do you say?"
"Even if it can't lead anywhere?"
"The straight guys I'm dating aren't leading anywhere either," she says.
The waiter hurries up to the table with our food. He smiles quickly at Jen but positively fawns over me, making himself a bit foolish in his transparency. Jen and I meet eyes and smile while he fusses. The waiter seems nothing but pleased that I'm finally aware of him.
"Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Howell?" he asks, looking directly at me.
"I think we're good," Jen says, reminding him she's there. He looks chagrined and smiles apologetically at her.
"If you need anything my name is Timothy," he says, then turns back to me with his flirtatious eyes turned up to 110%. "Anything at all."
When he's gone I turn back to Jen with comically wide eyes.
"Now that was downright embarrassing."
"Go for it!" she says with gusto. "That guy's a slam-dunk if I ever saw one!"
I smile indulgently for a moment before softly reminding her,
"The Beverly Wilshire Hotel is well outside of my closet, Jen. I still have to work in this town."
"Shit," she quietly says. "I'm sorry. I got so excited that we're finally speaking openly I forgot where we are."
She reaches across the table and gently touches my arm.
"It speaks to how comfortable I am with you, how happy it makes me that you've allowed me inside. That's why I want us to go out. Spending time with you makes me feel good. Isn't that reason enough?"
"It is," I say, "absolutely. I love spending time with you too Jen, but you need to go into it with realistic expectations."
"Sex I can get," she says, "but great dates are a different story."
"Well OK then," I say with a smile. "What are you doing Tuesday after next? The Wallflowers are playing at the Troubadour."
"Oh my God!" she cries. "I love Jakob Dylan! They played Ashes to Ashes the other night on Letterman!"
"I saw it. That's when I decided to see them at the Troub. Do you want to go then?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely!"
"OK," I say. "It's a date."
Helping David's career is a two-edged sword.
While looking for a movie for David and me Jen came up with a series of national commercials for David. Soon the whole country will see him pretending to love KFC Extra Crispy, even though in private he and I call it Kentucky Fried Rodent.
Great news, right? Except it's shooting in New York and I haven't seen him for nearly a week, plus I arranged for Wanda to take him on the agent and casting rounds while he's there so it will be another whole week before I see him. I can't stop thinking about him and I'm horny as a hoot-owl.
Impatiently I open my home office safe and retrieve the sacred video tape. I carry it to the bedroom, anticipation rising in me almost as if David were really here. I hook up the camcorder to the Trinitron, arrange the lube and my cum-rag for easy access, and settle in for a long JO. I fully intend to watch the whole tape, teasing myself to multiple near-climaxes with every scene before finally letting go and blasting cum halfway to the vaulted ceiling.
I touch play and there's my David, so so beautiful and so so sexy in his lovely nudity. His smile is genuine as he leans in and takes my rigid cock into his mouth, devouring it like it's the best thing in the world. As I watch I squirt lube onto my cockhead and begin to stroke, delightful memories enhancing the images.
I almost can't stop it when I see my jizz paint his beautiful face but somehow I manage to stave off my climax. I have to hit pause on the camcorder because at this level of excitement I would surely cream all over myself the instant the next scene showed his tight pink butthole accepting my raging rod. Shortly I feel in control enough to proceed but of course it happens again from watching the doggy-style scene. I'm milliseconds away from blasting my wad and I have to squeeze myself with both hands to hold it back.
It goes on like this for damn near an hour: jerk, squeeze, rest, repeat. Finally the final scene comes, the slow, gentle lovemaking in basic missionary position. His lovely smooth arms and legs are wrapped tightly around me and we're kissing like we just can't get enough.
I manage to time it within a few seconds; right when the video me is unloading into David the real me fires jet after jet into the air. I relish the way it falls back down onto me like hot rain. It's one of my best self-administered orgasms since I was a teenager.
Time stands still as I lay panting, waves of love and lust for David coursing through me just like my hot blood. There is no world besides him and me, no Wanda and no Hollywood, just my beloved boy and me.
I've never felt this way about anyone.
Slowly the world comes back. My breathing settles and the sound of the TV becomes intelligible once again. I find my rag and begin to clean myself, dimly aware that David and I are still on the tape, giggling and smooching in the afterglow of that wonderful fuck.
"Hmm," I muse out loud. Apparently I never stopped recording after that last one. I smile as I relive that moment, how incredibly happy and content I was, uncaring about anything except the wonderful boy in my arms.
On the tape David and I are pillow-talking and it's really sweet to see. I'm a tiny bit removed from the situation watching it on video tape, a fly on the wall, more able to observe our interaction. It strikes me how genuine David seems in his affection. I honestly don't think he is faking it just for career advancement.
He actually loves me.
On tape David says, "You know, flattering them, flirting with them, letting 'em know they can do stuff to me if they give me jobs."
My eyes widen. I had no idea we had recorded this part. My pulse vaults as I realize that this would be evidence too, of David whoring himself to break into Hollywood.
My immediate instinct is to protect him. I have to erase this part of the tape, so that if the worst ever happens and the tape gets out David will have a chance of getting through it. He'll still have the "He made me do it" defense.
On tape David says, "After a while Mom had enough of magazine work. She wanted me acting, so she took me to this theater agent named Walter-something and he fucked me too."
"Holy shit!" I say out loud. This is evidence all right — against Wanda! This would mean prison time for her just the same as me. Erase it my ass! This tape is my golden ticket and there's no way I'm letting go of it!
With a real feeling of accomplishment I pop the cassette out of my second Sony Pro Series Hi8 camcorder. It cost me another eight hundred bucks but having two camcorders allowed me to make copies of my golden video tape, plus I can use it for two-camera coverage the next time David and I decide to get cinematic in the sack. I'll need a second tripod and I'll have to figure out how to edit the two into a final film, but I'm sure I can handle it.
On the way into work today I will stop by the bank and drop one of the copies into my safe deposit box and the other will go into the floor safe under my office desk. I'm taking no chances with this baby.
I'm just getting into my car when my cell phone rings. I juggle the two video tapes, my travel mug of coffee and my briefcase until, giving up, I plop them all onto the hood of the car. I dig the phone out of my pocket just before it would have gone to voice mail.
"Yes! Yes! This is Richard!" I bark, annoyed at the terrible timing.
"Oh, that tone won't do at all, young man," comes Jen's teasing voice. "Try that again and this time keep a civil tongue."
"I'm sorry, Jen," I say with a chuckle. "You caught me with my hands full. What's going on?"
"I think I might have a script for you and David," she says. "It reads well and David would carry the entire film, but there are some downsides. Do you want to hear my take right now or would you rather read it yourself first?"
"You know, I think I'd like to read it cold, get my own first impression and then we can discuss it over lunch."
"Whatever you'd like," she says.
"Can you send the script to my office?"
"Sure," she says, then away from the phone, "Lisa? Will you messenger this to Richard Howell's office please?"
"Right away, Miss McCutchen."
"Thank you," she says to Lisa, then back into the phone, "You should get that in an hour or so."
"I have to go to Paramount first," I say. "I've got production meetings until 3, but I'll be in the office after that. I'll read the script then. Thanks a ton, Jen."
"I'll do anything for a free lunch," she says.
"That's what I've heard," I say with exaggerated innuendo, and laugh when she gasps.
"Oh, you are bad!" she laughs. "But not entirely inaccurate."
Now it's my turn to gasp. I have to be careful with the sexy banter. I don't want to accidentally promise something I can't deliver.
"Do you mind picking the restaurant and making the reservation for tomorrow?" I ask, back to business. "Like I said, I'm kind of swamped today."
"Oh, I see," she says sarcastically. "It's fine for me to interrupt my day."
"You're the best Jen!" I shout into the phone and before I get the phone hung up I faintly hear her voice in the background,
"Lisa, please make a lunch reservation tomorrow at The Ivy. Mr. Howell is paying!"
"Richard!" David cries and runs into my arms. I lift him right there in the doorway and he grips my waist with his legs, planting a big and unabashedly romantic kiss right on my mouth. It's a little weird with Wanda standing there looking on, but it's not like she didn't know what we get up to.
"How are you doing, baby?" I ask between kisses. "I'm so glad you're home."
"Me too!" he beams. "I missed you so much!"
"Yeah, I did too, kiddo."
Wanda glares at me so I spin David into the house and carry him to the living room. It's now a power move to be so openly intimate with David right in front of his mother.
"Hello Wanda," I say over my shoulder. "Get the door, will you?"
I step to the sofa and sit, David still in my lap. I nuzzle him and smooch his delicious lips a few times, and I see in his mischievous blue eyes the recognition that we are deliberately tweaking his Mom, and he loves it.
"How was New York?" I ask her without looking away from David's beautiful face. "Make any connections?"
"You know we did," she says. "I'll bet the door was barely closed behind us when those friends of yours reported back."
"That's one of the many reasons you need me," I say, "I'm the guy who knows the guys."
"OK," Wanda concedes, settling heavily into a chair. "Credit where it's due. The KFC commercials will get him national exposure and now we have an agent and a TV producer interested. That's why you get this bonus weekend with the kid, but don't forget you need to keep delivering!"
"He's worth whatever it takes," I say and kiss him fully.
"Oh dear God," she grunts and starts to rise again. "I'm gettin' out of here."
"Sure," I say, "if you don't want to hear about the movie I found for him."
David jerks upright in my lap.
"Movie? Really?"
"Yeah kid," I match his grin. "You star and I direct. How does that sound?"
"It sounds perfect!" he cries and crushes himself to me again. We kiss deeply and I see the lust in his eyes.
When Wanda leaves I'm gonna get soooo laid!
"Let's save some of that for later," I say, sliding him off of my lap to the seat beside me. He immediately cuddles up under my arm and I turn to face Wanda.
"Before I start I have to set your expectations. This is a small independent film. It will not get David an Oscar nomination and it'll pay peanuts. In fact I'll have to work for scale just so they can afford me."
She opens her mouth to complain but I stop her.
"It's a lead role, Wanda," I say. "He'd play the title character and be in almost every scene. At the very least it would be a great credit for David and I would advise him to take it even if it paid zero."
Wanda digests this for a second then nods her head and somewhat grudgingly says, "Go on."
"There's a kid-lit novel about to be published called The MVP. A start-up called Back Room Productions bought it in galleys and had the author adapt it into a screenplay.
"David would play a standout youth soccer player who loses his Dad. In the script it's a car crash but that's been done a million times. I want to make it something more cinematic, a fire maybe— Oh! Maybe he's a firefighter who gets killed in the line of duty!
"Anyway, the character Tyler gets all depressed and suddenly doesn't care about anything anymore. He refuses to play in the big game, which causes lots of conflict with teammates and coaches, and he won't do his homework, which pisses off his teachers and causes a huge blowup with his Mom.
"Finally he bonds with the new soccer coach, who lost his own wife and son a few months before. They are, like, kindred spirits and slowly bring each other out of the depths. Tyler becomes the star of the league again and, as the title says, the MVP.
"David gets to play these amazing physical soccer scenes at the beginning and the end plus tons of emotional stuff in between. It's like a whole audition reel in a single part.
"This is a great low-risk career move, Wanda. Nobody is expecting anything so it wouldn't kill him if it tanked, but if he kills the part there will definitely be buzz in casting circles. This could be the role that leads to his breakthrough."
Wanda thinks for a moment, the gears turning behind her eyes.
"You keep saying he's not ready yet," she says. "What changed?"
"A lead role is a lot of work but a lot of experience too. I'll be there to keep him on track and teach him the lessons he needs to learn. It's true that he's not ready today, but after this movie he will be."
Wanda thinks some more and I take the opportunity to fondle David's ass right in front of her.
"OK," she says. "Now that you're finally giving me what I want I'll loosen your choke collar a little. You can have the kid every damn weekend for all I care as long as you keep delivering. But this better work or I'm gonna make a phone call you don't want me to make."
"There will be no need for that, Wanda," I smugly say. "You'll see."
I had planned to show her the video tape — just the part that incriminates her, of course — but now I think I'll keep that ace up my sleeve a while longer.
Thanks for reading Part 3 Chapter 1 of Casting Call. Sorry it took so long to get here but I warned you it would be sporadic. Part 3 Chapter 2 will be along shortly.
If you like my stuff have a look at my story archive here on my Prolific Authors page.
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