by Tiana Laveen
Cross Climax II
By Tiana Laveen
Copyright © 2010 by Tiana Laveen
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotes embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover design by Jerry Drury
January 2011
First Edition
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to the many people I went to school with who actually looked forward to my written stories in English class. It is dedicated to my father who was my first male role model and helped foster my offbeat, creative nature. It is also dedicated to my close friends who encouraged me to do what I love and delighted in my blessings and happiness. Thank you.
Table of Contents
“Lights! Cameras! Attraction!”
“The Bride in Red”
“The ‘N’ Word”
“The Gathering”
“Lights! Cameras! Attraction!”
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me!” Monica screamed as she watched the police push her boyfriend’s face into the matted, gray carpet. Another officer raised his baton and shook it at her as a warning.
“Stay back, or you can go too!” he warned. Her boyfriend was coughing, turning blue, and the large vein in his neck was bulging.
“I – can’t – breath!” he muffled. The police sirens outside of their complex could wake up the dead. Monica’s daughter, Simone, hung onto her mother’s leg, gripping it to the point that her tiny fingernails left deep crescent-shaped depressions in Monica’s caramel calf.
“What did he do? Why are you tearin’ up my house?” she asked hysterically. The officer pushed Monica into the wall while the search continued.
“First degree murder!” yelled one of the rookie cops who was immediately reprimanded by a senior officer for talking.
“He didn’t murder anyone! Oh, my God.” Monica slid down onto the ground sobbing and holding her daughter. Her shoulder-length, dark brown hair became disheveled as she repeatedly shook her head ‘no.’ Monica’s long bangs, adhered to her forehead with perspiration, batting at her tears. The mascara stung her eyes. She wiped her tear-streaked face with the bottom of her Hello Kitty tank top. She stayed that way until silence crept into the apartment and bathed the entire area with a nightmarish eeriness. Her boyfriend was on his way downtown for questioning, and the crowd that gathered outside dissipated.
Monica rose slowly from the ground, pulling her daughter to her.
“Come on, Honey. Let me put you to bed.” Monica carried her daughter to her room. She turned on the mellow lamp, illuminating stuffed animals, beautifully dressed dolls, and neatly organized bookshelves filled with movies, children’s CDs, and fairy tales. She sat Simone down on her pastel pink bed.
Monica turned to her daughter’s dresser drawers and slowly thumbed through the delicate nightgowns and top-and-bottom pajama sets.
“Let’s get you dressed for bed, Honey.” Monica unwrapped the bath towel from Simone then put on the yellow nightgown with tiny, mint green birds around the hem. It was one of Simone’s favorites.
“Can I hear a bedtime story, Mommy?” Simone looked up at her mother with huge, dark brown, puppy eyes. Her long eyelashes gave her an even more adorable appearance reminiscent of a baby doll.
“How can I say ‘no’ to that face?” Monica smiled as she selected “Little Red Riding Hood.” After she read the story, she tucked sleeping Simone in. She turned out the light and looked back at her daughter. A single tear rolled down Monica’s check as she whispered, “Good night, Baby.”
* * *
Two weeks later…
“Ms. Lewis!” Mr. Turner was pounding at the door. He was the henchman that the landlord always sent to collect delinquent rent.
“I know you’re in there! I can hear your television!” Monica swung the door open, resting her hand on the hip of her white capris. Her hair was in a high ponytail.
“What?” Monica snapped.
“Your rent’s late. Now, usually your boyfriend pays on time – I guess with that drug money, but…”
“What business is that of yours? You’re an Uncle Tom.
They’ll get their money. I just need more time. This is our first time bein’ late, so you’d think you could cut me some slack.”
“Look, I’m just doin’ my job.” Mr. Turner stuck his bulbous head in the doorway, looking around. He had dark circles under his eyes, like a raccoon. Clumps of sporadic, dry hair covered his pecan-colored scalp. His breath reeked of cigars and stale coffee.
“You know, Monica, I could pay your rent for you this one time.” He smiled devilishly, revealing various rotten teeth.
“And what would you want in return, Mr. Turner?” Monica sighed. Mr. Turner unzipped his pants and revealed a shrunken penis surrounded by wiry, gray pubic hairs. Monica smiled coyly. She grabbed it tenderly. Mr. Turner looked around both ways like he was crossing the street, then nodded with approval.
Monica dropped to her knees. Suddenly he let out a terrifying shriek. Monica squeezed and turned it with all her strength.
“You nasty, old pervert! I’d never sleep with you! I’d never suck your nasty little dick. I don’t care if I only had a dollar to my name. If you were the last mother-fuckin’ man on earth, civilization would end. Get away from my door!” Monica stood up and pushed Mr. Turner back into the hall, slamming her door shut. He writhed in pain, trying to catch his breath.
Finally getting to his feet, he stammered away, eyes glassy and bulging. Monica sat down at her kitchen table and looked at the mounting bills. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“What am I gonna do?” Simone was in private school. The rent was due, and Monica was in college trying to get her RN
degree. The phone rang, bringing her momentarily out of misery.
“Hello? Yes, I accept the call. Brian!”
“Baby, I’m so sorry I’ve just now been able to call you. Look, I have a lawyer, and I don’t see any way outta this,” Brian said, defeated.
“Brian, what are you talkin’ about? You gotta come home!
We need you. I miss you.
What’d you do?” Monica pleaded. There was a brief pause.
“Monica, everything got messed up. I went to go meet up with Nate and them, and some guy came outta nowhere shootin’
and tried to rob us. I pulled out my nine and got ’em right in the chest. They got me on surveillance tape. There was a convenient store nearby and witnesses ID’d me. They’re talkin’ about seventy years in prison with no chance of parole because of my priors. I’m sorry, Baby. Please hug and kiss Simone for me.”
(The phone went dead.)
Monica still held the phone to her ear. The tears gushed like a water faucet on full blast. She looked up at the clock and saw she needed to pick up Simone from school. Monica went to the bathroom and freshened up. She never wanted her daughter to see her cry. She was deathly afraid it would cause worry. She looked in the mirror, examining her clear, soft skin; her slightly bloodshot eyes; and her lips. Monica’s thoughts immediately flashed back to her own mother, crying in a fetal position on the bathroom floor after major heartbreak. She shook the image out of her mind and undid her ponytail, letting her naturally long tresses fall to her shoulders.
* * *
“Hi, Mommy!” Simone squealed as Monica pulled up to the school.
“Hi, Baby Doll!” Monica smiled widely as Simone got into her booster seat.
/> “Let me check your seat belt.” She reached back and tugged it.
“Great, it’s good and tight.”
“Mommy, can we go to McDonald’s for dinner, please! I want some apples and some french fries.”
“Simone, you know you’re supposed to only have McDonald’s once a week. This will be the second time.”
“Please, Mommy!” Simone smiled, showing her tiny pearly-whites.
“OK, but don’t expect me to break the rule again.” Guilt was causing Monica to oblige. She knew Simone’s father was gone and would never be returning. If McDonald’s took some pain away, even for five minutes, it was a fair trade. She pulled up to the restaurant and let her daughter out. They walked inside, ordered, and had a seat. Monica noticed a full-figured woman staring at her. The woman stood up. She had to have been at least six feet tall. She was attractive but intimidating. Her short blonde hair was close to her scalp. Her lips were pouty, and her hazel eyes were almond-shaped. Monica tried to ignore the repeated glances.
The woman made her way to Monica and Simone’s table.
“Hi.” She stuck out her hand. “My name’s Lisa.”
“Uh – hi, Lisa.” Monica looked at Simone and smiled nervously then back up at the stranger.
“My name’s Monica.” Simone said with a mouth full of fries,
“You’re tall!” Lisa smiled.
“I know. Thank you! I bet you’ll be tall someday, too.” Lisa winked at the little laughing girl.
“I grew a whole inch over the summer and my daddy’s real tall too. He’s in jail.” Monica’s face contorted into a look of stun and shame. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Lisa touched Monica’s shoulder.
“It’s OK. Kids are so honest. Look, let me cut right to the chase. I’m a talent scout. I was looking at you because you’re simply gorgeous.” Lisa pulled out a card and handed it to Monica. Monica looked down and read, “Adult Action Premiere Productions.”
“What type of talent do you scout?” Monica asked, raising an eyebrow. Lisa looked at Simone, who was now playing happily solo with a Happy Meal figurine. Monica tapped her daughter on the arm.
“Baby, you want to play on that slide right there?” Monica pointed.
“Yeah!” Simone said eagerly.
“OK, go on and play. I’ll be watching you. I want you to stay right there by the slide, though, so I can see you, OK?”
“OK, Mommy!” Simone jumped up and ran over, immediately talking to another little girl.
“May I sit down?” Lisa pointed to the now empty chair Simone had occupied.
“Yes, please.” Monica chewed on her soda straw while tapping the sticky table with her French manicured nail.
“We’re adult entertainment – not stripping, not clubs, not prostitution. We deal exclusively with high quality adult movies that are aimed for couples. We’re strictly online. We’re very exclusive, very particular, and very selective. We’re known for having the most attractive, clean, STD-free actors, and we have great pay, as well as full health coverage after your first film.
It’s a female-run company, so we pay close attention to the needs of our clientele as well as our actors. We’re trying to enhance the lives of others, not dirty them up. Monica, you have the look we’ve been searching for. We don’t have any African-American women and wanted to start bringing a few on board.
This is a business. It’s a profession. We hold award shows, contests for new cars – you name it. Our actors are drug-tested.
No cocaine heads or anything like that. They’re professional.
You’d be trained by the best.”
“I’m sitting here, Lisa, and can’t believe I’m still listening to you. I’m in a jam right now.
My rent’s due. My child’s in private school. I’m in college, and my income’s now locked away in prison. I’m lonely, broken-hearted, and terrified. I don’t want to show my body to the world, but…” Lisa patted Monica’s hand.
“I know I can’t convince you in one conversation that the sex industry’s nothing to be ashamed of, but believe it or not, we have people with extremely high morals. Our company doesn’t produce the porn you’re used to seeing. It’s very sensual, sexy, and created to be as beautiful as possible. No one’s degraded or abused. Oddly enough, no one believes this when I tell them because of the business I’m in, but let me tell you, the human body’s the most beautiful instrument in the world. People want to see the human body in sexual ways because it’s lovely, not because it’s sullied or something to be ashamed of. We, as a society, have turned sex into a filthy act when in actuality, sex and its expression are totally natural. I want you to think about it.
Here’s my card.” Lisa handed it to her. Monica looked over at Simone, who was now at the bottom of the slide giggling and waved.
“Monica,” Lisa pulled out her check book, “how much is your rent?” Monica’s eyes grew wide.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. You have a daughter to support, and you’re in school. Just for your time today and your honest consideration, I’m going to pay your rent this month. The only thing I ask in return is that you come to the address on the back of that card and have an interview tomorrow. So again, how much is your rent? Include your phone and grocery bill as well.”
“Well, with rent, water, groceries, and phone it’s about $850.
So, Lisa, are you a recruiter for this company?” Monica looked at the card again. Lisa smiled.
“I’m a recruiter, as well as an actress, but more importantly, I co-own it. I go by the name of Moby Clit. I’m the best damn lesbian manager in the industry.” She stood up, shook Monica’s hand, and slid the check to her as she made her way to the door.
Monica looked at it. It was written in the amount of $1000. A smiley face was drawn in the comment section.
* * *
“Lord Jesus, what am I doing here?” Monica said to herself as she sat in her parked car. The building looked like a regular office building. On the front were the letters ‘AAPP’ in big, sparkling gold font. Monica got out of her car and went inside.
A petite, red-headed receptionist sat at the desk. She looked at Monica, put her finger up, smiled politely and finished her conversation.
“Yes, Mr. Beasley. That shouldn’t be a problem. Same to you.
Goodbye.”
“Hello, how can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“Um, my name’s Monica Lewis. I’m here to see Lisa. She told me to stop by.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right. She told me you may be stopping by.
OK, Monica, please fill out these papers, and I’ll let Lisa know you’re here.” She handed Monica a clipboard. Monica sat down.
She looked around and saw beautiful plants, artwork, and a fountain. Soothing smooth Jazz was playing. It looked like a decadent doctor’s office. Monica looked at the paperwork and began to fill it out.
Name…Monica Lewis
Race…African-American
Height…5’7”
Bra Size…36D
Hair color…dark brown
Eye color…dark brown
Tattoos…yes, one on ankle
Weight…140 lbs
History of STD's…one in 2000, now cured Pregnancies, if applicable…yes, one
Surgeries…oral, for wisdom teeth
Fetishes…
Monica looked up from the paper for a moment and thought.
“Fetishes – none that I can think of off-hand.” She continued onward.
Piercings…ears, nose and navel
Sexual aversions…anal sex
“Hi, Monica!” Lisa appeared wearing a business suit. She extended her hand. Monica stood up and shook it.
“I’m so glad you came. This is my business, and this is my life partner, Sheila.” Monica shook Sheila’s hand as well. Sheila had dark, curly hair and the longest legs Monica had ever seen.
She wore a short skirt with a business jacket and had a very pleasant, we
lcoming smile.
Monica followed them both back into a boardroom that was adorned with rich, maple chairs; ivory leather; and posh paintings.
“Would you like some water – tea – coffee?” Sheila asked as she opened a mini-refrigerator in the room.
“Water would be fine,” Monica answered nervously.
“Monica, please have a seat. We don’t bite!” Lisa joked.
Monica laughed apprehensively, then sat down across from them. Lisa looked over Monica’s paperwork while Sheila began the interview.
“First, let me tell you that Lisa told me you were gorgeous, and she was correct. However, we don’t just look for outer beauty. We want a total look and persona. We want real women.
That’s why we don’t accept anyone that has had major cosmetic surgery for reasons of vanity.
We don’t want breast implants, butt implants, or the like.
Breast lifts and tummy tucks are fine, but that’s as much as we tolerate. I understand that you’re in school. Tell me about that?”
Sheila looked directly at Monica while holding an ink pen in her hand, prepared to record information on her paper.
“Uh – well, as I explained to Lisa, I’m in school. I’m studying to become a registered nurse.
I like helping people, and I knew the income would be steady.”
“When was the last time you worked a paying job, Monica?”
Sheila continued to look down and jot notes.
“Uh – well, not since my daughter was born. My boyfriend wanted me to stay home and raise her.” Monica rubbed her hands together.
“I understand your boyfriend’s now incarcerated.” Sheila looked up briefly.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with this?” Monica asked defensively.
“We just want to see what’s going on in your life, Monica.
We’re like a family here, and the more we know in advance, the more understanding we are when issues arise. Please don’t take offense to the question.” Sheila smiled and looked back at her notes. Monica sighed and rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans.
