Orlando (Blackmail #1)

by Crystal Spears

  “I got horny, sir,” the crew guy responds with a shrug.

  Is he serious? “You got horny from that pathetic scene?” I can’t help but chuckle.

  “The slurping sounds, sir.”

  Oh, god help me. “The slurping sounds? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

  He shrugs as the two-bit actress fakes a moan. I make a mental reminder to schedule both of them with the sex therapist.

  “For this,” I gesture around, “you’re getting docked for two days.” They aren’t salary. Crewmembers work eight hours a day and switch up on this film. “And this will go into a report. You both could have taken this to your private quarters. Don’t let me find either of you like this again. Not on my goddamn film.”

  With that, I turn and finish making my way back towards Friday’s.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  Friday Caracci

  Behind the Lenz

  Orlando pissed me off. I was going to bathe. Some global porn star had his sweaty, meaty body all over mine. Of course, I wanted to scrub it all off. Orlando made me feel cheap the way he ordered me to go take a shower. And for him to make me feel that way, it hurt. It tore me to pieces.

  The hot water rinses the soap from my body. When I feel clean enough, I turn off the water, step out of the shower onto the rug, and grab my towel. Once all the water droplets are gone, I wrap my hair so the towel sits on top of my head.

  A knock sounds, and a familiar voice calls out my name. He made me feel like a worthless actress, so I’ll show him. Butt naked, I walk across the living room and open the door. His mouth gapes as he rushes in and slams the door.

  “Get some fucking clothes on, Bucket. What the fuck!”

  He needs to stop calling me that. I’m no longer the girl he honored with that nickname. When is he going to understand this? I walk over to my closet, grab my kimono, and tie it on. This is the best I’m going to do. I want to relax. I just had some asshole ram into my pussy while I was dry as can be. I should have yelled cut and asked for some lubricant, but with my desire to remain professional, and my secret wish for the scene to be over, I didn’t. My vagina is now paying for it.

  “Friday, why the fuck are you doing porn?”

  Here we go.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo in this genre, Orlando. I did porn in Japan, multiple times in my younger days. Did you think I made it into a motion picture that easy? I went overseas to gain set experience, and one thing led to another.” I shrug. “A producer gave me notice and that was it. They buried my past with a false name. If someone digs hard enough, my youth can be found all over the place.”

  He takes a seat on my couch, puts an arm on the side, and crosses his long, lean legs. “I understand that, but why now? Why, after you’ve become an A-list actress, would you do this?”

  Orlando is upset with me. He is using that displeased tone that I hate to hear coming from his mouth.

  “Why else would someone in my position do this,” I screech.

  He uncrosses his legs and stares open-mouthed before responding. “You’re being blackmailed?”

  I flop onto my bed. “Yes.”

  He doesn’t like that answer even though he knew it before I gave it. He stands, paces the room back and forth, and growls in frustration. “Why didn’t you come to me for help, Bucket?”

  I don’t answer because I can’t. If he knew, he would get even more pissed off with why I didn’t come to him in the first place. I so badly want to tell him how the reason he no longer wears his ring plays a part in my now revived porn career, but I can’t. He’d be furious with not only me, but also two other people in his life. I won’t be responsible for any more of his unhappiness.

  “Just stop. Are we done for the day? We’ve only shot one scene, but I know you well enough to know you’ve decided to change something.”

  He stops pacing and looks at me. “Yeah, I’ve called for rewrites, and for that piece of shit to get some fucking lessons on etiquette.”

  I smile and pat the bed. “Lay with me like we used to when we were kids.”

  Orlando grins, walks over to my bed, and kicks off his shoes before climbing into the left side and getting under the blankets. “Only for a few, Friday. I got boss shit to do.”

  I mumble okay and crawl to the right side. This used to be our thing–lying together and just talking. I’ve missed it. If he knew the reason behind everything, he wouldn’t be laying here with me. He’d be yelling and throwing stuff all over the place before he’d storm out in rage.

  “So, how’ve you been,” I ask as I tuck my hands under my cheek and peer at him.

  He turns to his side and lifts up on one elbow. His long length has his feet hanging off the end of my bed. As I gaze at him and his beauty, I can’t help but inwardly sigh. He’s downright sinfully gorgeous. His green eyes, square-jawed face, and beautiful, dirty blond hair make him one of the sexiest men in Hollywood. I knew when I was a child, he’d be delicious when he got older. He had that nerdy sexy thing going on when we were younger.

  Being this close to him makes my palms sweat. Our chemistry has always been dangerous, and since he says he’s getting a divorce, and we’re older, I can’t help but wonder if things will change between us. A girl can only hope.

  “I’ve been better. I’m getting a divorce. You know how I feel about those,” he replies to my question, and his response makes my stomach knot. Maybe I should have left well enough alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my words soft and quiet. What else should I say? Hey, glad you’re a single man? Yeah, that’s not rude at all.

  “Are you really?”

  I tuck my lips together and respond with silence. That’s how I answer. He can read me. He knows me well enough to figure that out for himself.

  “How’s your pussy feelin’?” He chuckles.

  Oh, that son of a bitch! I sit up, grab my pillow, and chuck it at him. “Orlando,” I screech, “that was rude!”

  He knows I can’t stand it when he talks to me like this. It isn’t because I’m this snobby twit who thinks doing porn is beneath her. I just hate when he talks to me about body parts and sex. When it comes from his mouth, it sounds so damn good it makes me wet.

  “I’m serious,” he says between laughs.

  Two can play this game. “It feels fantastic. Nothing like being screwed while you’re dry. If only someone could take all the pain away with his mouth.”

  He stops trying to block the pillow I keep swatting at him, and glares at me as if I have grown an extra head. I drop it and grin at him like a cheeky fool.

  “Don’t worry, after I cut up some cucumbers and relax with them on my vagina, all will be gravy. It’ll take the swelling down.” I shrug to make my teasing funnier.

  “Cucumbers,” he says in disbelief.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, but I can’t seem to hold a straight face.

  “You shithead, stop fucking with me like that. I thought for sure my good girl was gone!”

  My face contorts into a frown. “I’m not a good girl,” I say with a huff and climb out of bed. “You don’t know me like you used to, O, so stop, okay?”

  I turn around before he sees the tears forming in my eyes. The bed squeaks, and I don’t have to look around to know that he’s getting up and stalking towards me. Orlando has never liked seeing me upset. What best friends do? He grabs my elbow and flings me around to face him, and he brings his hands up to cup my cheeks. I’m not a short girl, but he still towers over my 5’6’’ frame with his 6’3’’ height.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Bucket. Fuck.” He growls as he shoves me against the wall. “Stop crying,” he says in a husky whisper as his lips slam down on mine.

  I’m frozen in place. Orlando has never once kissed me before, but he fights my stiffness and demands entrance into my mouth, so I comply and open. His tongue connects with mine, and I swear angels sing into my mouth. I’ve waited over twenty years to taste this man, and as our tongues tangle, his hand mo
ves down to open my kimono and grabs one of my breasts. I snap out of it and shove him away as I struggle to catch my breath.

  “You can’t. We can’t. You’re still married,” I squeak.

  “I can,” he growls and stalks back to me. He grips my butt as he slides me up the wall. Instinct takes over, and I wrap my legs around him. The bulge in his jeans presses against my center, and I sigh as his lips land on mine. I rock my hips back and forth while his tongue fucks my mouth with an urgency I’ve never felt in a kiss before.

  “You’re…” I moan into his mouth and pull away. “You’re married.”

  “So?” He groans and goes for my mouth again. This time, I push his chest hard and unwrap my legs so I can slide down the wall. With angry movements, I fix my kimono.

  “Don’t ever do that again! You’re still married!”

  I don’t care if he is getting divorced. If I hadn’t done what I did, he wouldn’t be separated right now. I have to keep reminding myself that, even if he’s not wearing his wedding ring, it doesn’t mean that she will go through with her threats this time. I still have morals. I won’t do it.

  “Jesus Christ, Bucket!”

  Gah. “Stop calling me that!”

  Orlando adjusts himself inside his pants and glares at me. “I’ve called you that for over twenty years. I’ve even whispered it to you in passing during premiers where someone could pick up on it, and now you have a fucking problem with it?”

  He’s giving me that tone again. His disappointment makes my skin crawl and my stomach tie up with knots, because my brain and body both know I hate to upset this man.

  “I’m sorry. It’s…” I sigh. “You’re still married. It feels too personal. Okay?”

  My heart pounds in my chest while I wait for him to say something, anything, to make this situation less awkward. He doesn’t respond, though, so I’m forced to speak.

  “You never wanted anything but friendship before. Why, all of a sudden, this?” I motion between us with my hands.

  “Friday… you know it was never about that. You know I never wanted to ruin our friendship just so I could fuck you. I’m older, hell, we’re older now. I’m getting a divorce, and you’re standing right in front of me, looking fucking sexy as hell. I’m a goddamn man!”

  Now he sounds like every other guy out there. I hate how men think because I’m gorgeous and look good naked, it gives them the right to think I don’t have expectations, or that I don’t think highly enough of myself.

  “Get out,” I whisper. I can’t even raise my voice at this man, but my anger is evident. That is why it is easy for him to get away with the things he says. I can never get mad enough to yell at a volume he has never heard from me before. “I’ll be on set in the morning at my scheduled time. Go.” I point to the door.

  Orlando turns and walks towards the door, but before he turns the knob to open it, he decides to gut me some more. “I’m sorry, Bucket. My actions are inexcusable.”

  A lone tear slides down my cheek as he disappears. How easily I would’ve hated myself for going through with that. It makes me hate myself even more than I do right now.

  “This is going to be the longest film session I have ever been through,” I mumble to the empty room as I walk to my bed.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  Orlando Dupree

  And you learned how to fuck, where?

  Mateo makes it extremely hard to like him. The bastard has no dignity at all. He didn’t take the advice his acting coach and sex therapist gave him. Instead, he keeps assaulting my best friend’s pussy like it isn’t soft, delicate, and something to cherish. Despite the actors on this film receiving multiple tests for every STD known to man, it doesn’t calm my stomach, knowing all his scenes with Friday are as close to bareback sex as possible. When he has scenes with other women, he has to wear a thick condom. But in the contractual arrangements for Mateo and Friday, as long as both parties are clean, they work with the bare minimum.

  I’ll say it doesn’t get more fucking personal than that.

  It took a lot of persuasion to get that line drawn, but I did it, and I don’t think Friday ever looked happier. Mateo, on the other hand, was straight up pissed. It is obvious I don’t give a shit. The guy clearly is a slut, and I don’t want his dick anywhere near my best friend without the thickest of thick condoms on his shit. I had their contracts switched up. Now Mateo and Friday have to use a condom.

  I make the call to stop filming when the clock hits 7:00 p.m. I can tell that she’s tired of being screwed and delivering dialogue to this actor who sucks so much, everyone can see. I can’t fathom how she worked through two movies with this asshole.

  When I tell Mateo’s assistant to gather him, the sex expert, and his acting coach, his assistant knows it’s about to get nasty. I’ve had enough patience with this jackass. We’re only a quarter of the way into the final installment, and I’ll be damned if I tie my name to something that fucking sucks. I don’t care if it’s a porno or not. I won’t produce shit quality.

  The crew for the day clears out, most planning to go get drunk, and I wish I could join them, but I have to tell this fucker he sucks… again.

  My assistant caps off my cameras and asks for leave, and I allow it. I’ll probably get a better response from Mateo if there isn’t a soul around that can give him grief about my grilling him.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Well, speak of the devil.

  “Yes. You didn’t pay attention to a word your coaches gave you, did you? Because I can tell you, this past week has been infuriating. How you have made it in so many adult films is beyond me. Please, take it personally. That’s what I want,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

  Mateo crosses his arms and glares at me. Does he expect me to be intimidated by him? It’s almost laughable how hot shit he thinks he is. Maybe in his world, but something tied to my name, not so much.

  “It’s a fucking porn, dude.”

  This motherfucker. “You address me as Mr. Dupree.” My spine stiffens as I fight to keep my voice calm. “You know, you remind me of a pair of shit-stained underwear. No matter how much you wash the motherfuckers, they never come clean.”

  Confusion contorts Mateo’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Must I spell everything out for him? “It means, no matter how much coaching you get, it never rubs off on you. You never fucking learn!” His coaches stand idly on the side while I lay into him. “If you weren’t in the first two films, I would have canned your ass by now. Get your shit together. My name is on this now, and my name is fucking respected. This may be the first adult film I’ve directed and produced, but I still know a thing or two. Now get your shit together and listen to your goddamn coaches!”

  He scowls at me. “Tell me what is so horrible about my acting that I need both coaches to coach me more.”

  It isn’t just his acting. Jesus fuck!

  “You don’t even check to see if Friday is wet before you slam your cock into her. You’re damaging my actress, and the way you deliver your lines is shit. I mean, seriously, you need work. So here are the main two items you need to focus on. One, fuck my actress better. I don’t know where you learned how to use that cock of yours, but it needs work. And two, your line deliveries suck. Films are fake, we get that, but your delivery doesn’t have to be. I’m pulling the plug for the weekend. While all the other actors and crew members relax in the sun, drinking fucking umbrella drinks, your ass will be with your coaches,” I say with gritted teeth as I stand. “I’m sure they’ll be hard on you now that they have to work this weekend. It comes out of your pocket, too. Don’t try expensing this shit to the project. We’ve paid the required amount and have gone over what the contract states. Now, get back to work and don’t walk back onto my set until your ass is better prepared. You’re excused.” I wave him off with two fingers to further piss him off.

  Mateo turns around and flips me the bird as he walks away. What childish b
ehavior, and he questions me?

  I turn to face his coaches. “Please, accept my apology for the coaching you’ll be doing this weekend instead of relaxing on the beach.”

  They both nod and leave me alone on the set.

  I’ve left Friday alone for the past three days. It’s past time I go speak with her. I know I hurt her feelings the other night, and the reason I know this is because I know my girl. I’ve known her almost my entire life. When you spend your childhood with somebody, you learn her moods. I may not be all that versed on her adult side, but I’m still in sync with her emotions. Her body speaks volumes when she moves. It calls to me just like mine calls to her.

  I wave goodbye to the security guard while my mind processes the long three days of not speaking to Friday when she is right there in front of my face. I’d tried in the past to rekindle our friendship, but by the time I got married, it was too late. My wife, Neri Reeves, was not comfortable with my history with Friday, with good reason, of course.

  Neri’s a good woman, and other than her cheating, she has always been good to me. And to be honest, I don’t fault her for the infidelity. She told me she wasn’t happy, and the cheating didn’t come until after I told her I would not grant her a divorce. In a way, it’s a good thing paparazzi caught her leaving an upscale restaurant with another actor. I would have kept living in denial over her wanting a divorce if her scandals hadn’t made our marital problems public.

  But when you’re the beautiful, brilliant actress Neri Reeves, it is hard to live in secret. Neri attended marital counseling with me, but it wasn’t enough, so three weeks ago, I caved in and gave her what she wanted. I granted the divorce, signed the papers, and now, our lawyers are splitting our properties, funds, and cars. We’re not separating under horrible conditions. We are not fighting over the divides, and we’re still going to be great friends. We got along better as friends when we dated than we did after we got married.

  My phone rings. She must have had a tickling eardrum. I laugh as I answer her call. “Neri, babe, what’s up?”