“Thanks for driving me,” Danielle muttered, sitting morosely in the passenger seat. “I don’t have a car. Normally Matthew drives me about.”
Alyssa shrugged.
“Least I could do,” she forced herself to smile. “After all, you’re the star.” They were driving to a discreet clinic that offered STD testing – apparently a prerequisite for making a ‘real’ porn film. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?”
It was a legitimate question.
Things had moved fast ever since Alyssa and Michael had given Terry the go-ahead. Danielle had received a call that very night, asking if she was willing to take her ‘career’ in porn to the next level; and to bang four infamous sports stars on camera.
Her ‘yes’ hadn’t sounded all that emphatic; but it was difficult to turn down the promise of all that money.
Soon they arrived at the clinic, in the Meat Packing district. Alyssa found a spot to park, and fed a roll of quarters into the meter. A moment later, they were ringing the bell of a dingy looking office block, and waiting for a response.
“Come on up.”
The clinic looked like something out of the seventies, with peeling linoleum tiles and flickering fluorescent lights overhead. The young woman behind the desk, snapping gum, barely looked up as Alyssa stepped up to the glass partition and introduced herself.
“Fill in these forms,” she passed over a clipboard.
Danielle and Alyssa sat on some tired looking chairs, and Danielle peered at the form.
“This says it costs two hundred bucks!”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alyssa patted Danielle’s arm. “We’ll pay for that. I mean, this whole thing’s just a formality, anyway. The four kids you’ll be filming with took STD tests to prove that they don’t have anything… icky. And they expect you to take one too.”
Danielle narrowed her eyes.
“I can’t help feeling dirty doing it,” she admitted. “I mean, fucking with Matthew and Tommy on camera? That was different. I mean, Matthew’s my boyfriend now.”
Alyssa smiled when she heard that.
“But this?” Danielle looked up. “This is, like, the real deal. Getting tested for STDs? That’s what real porn stars do.”
Alyssa stretched her smiled even wider.
“Well, that’s what you are, honey.” She patted Danielle knee. “This is the big time. This movie’s going to be everywhere. In hotels. On cable.”
Danielle went a little pale when she heard this.
Blissfully, that was the moment the door of the clinic opened and a tired-looking nurse stepped out.
“Danielle?” She called.
Danielle looked up, startled.
“We’re ready for you now.”
Danielle turned quickly to Alyssa and gripped her arm.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she stammered. “I-I’m scared.”
“Scared?” Alyssa wrinkled her brow. “What could you be scared of?”
“I hate doctors,” she explained. “I hate needles.”
Alyssa patted Danielle’s small, pale hand.
“It’s okay,” she reassured her. “I’ll come in with you.”
Danielle gulped.
“Listen… Will you… Will you get it done too?”
“What?”
“The test,” Danielle stammered. “Will you get one done too? I’m scared to do it by myself.”
Alyssa paused.
She wasn’t exactly much of a fan of needles herself – and even less of a fan of shelling out two-hundred bucks that she didn’t need to. But Danielle looked genuinely scared; and, besides, it wasn’t as if Alyssa had anything to be nervous about. Her few seconds of fellatio with Matthew aside, she’d been utterly loyal to Michael for well over a decade. She wasn’t going to test positive for anything.
Alyssa patted Danielle’s hand reassuringly.
“Of course I will, honey. Anything you need.”
Chapter Nineteen
Just like with everything else to do with this project, the shoot happened fast.
Just a week after Michael and Alyssa had agreed to front the money, they met Terry at a run-down community college stadium.
“This is my alma mater,” Terry beamed, as Michael pulled his Chrysler to a halt in the parking lot. “The place hit hard time a few years ago, so they rented out the stadium and the locker rooms for me to film in.”
Swinging open the car door, Alyssa stepped out and looked around.
Davis College looked like it had seen better days – but she guessed the stadium and locker room would meet their needs – as long as everybody focused on the stars of the movie, and not the background.
Just then, Dave came rolling up in the van with all the equipment, and Terry started helping him unload.
“The boys should be here in half an hour,” he told Michael, hefting out the lights and a wheeled-dolly with lengths of track. “That gives me and Dave some time to do some establishing shots first.”
“I’ll get set up in the meantime,” Alyssa was already hefting out her make-up bag. “Where do you want me?”
“How about in the locker room?”
Alyssa grabbed Michael’s hand – she didn’t want to go into the creepy locker room all by herself.
The Home Team locker room was accessible through a short tunnel under the bleachers, and turned out to a run-down, redbrick building with cracked and faded tiles. It looked like it had been built in the 1930s, and hadn’t seen much in the way of maintenance since then.
“This looks like the place to shoot a horror film, not a porno,” Michael shuddered, as he sniffed eight decades worth of stale boy-funk hanging in the air.
Alyssa shrugged.
“It’ll do. And at least it looks clean.” That much was true. Although the tiles were cracked and the wood was warped, it all looked like it had at least been scrubbed down since the last time the teams played.
Alyssa picked one corner of the locker room to lay out her make-up, and designated a shower stall for Danielle to change in.
It seemed a bit ridiculous, offering privacy to a girl about to have sex with four men, but it seemed like the decent thing to do.
Finally, when things were set out, she and Michael returned to the parking lot.
They arrived just in time to watch an old Lincoln Town Car rolling up – one of the mid-nineties ones, in nice condition.
“This must be them,” Michael muttered, as the car pulled to a halt. “Our gang bangers.”
But contrary to expectations, the four young men who climbed out of the car didn’t seem much like their reputations had made them out to be. Modesty dressed in jeans and t-shirts, the four young African American men seemed fit and clean-cut – almost shy as they stepped up to the first people they saw standing in the parking lot; Michael and Alyssa.
“H-hi,” the tallest of the four young men offered his hand to Alyssa. “I’m Colin.” He looked Alyssa up and down with his big, brown eyes, and a smile came to his lips. “A-are you… Are you the starring lady?”
Alyssa’s cheeks burned red. She let go of Colin’s hand as if it was burning hot.
“Oh, no. Goodness no!” Alyssa blushed. “I’m the make-up artist.” She blushed furiously. “I can assure you, the, ahem ‘leading lady’ is much younger and prettier.”
Colin looked away bashfully.
“I’m sure that’s not possible, ma’am.”
Alyssa couldn’t help but smile.
Colin then introduced the rest of the boys. Reed, David and Brad. Like Colin, they were handsome and athletic young black men; but all very polite and respectful.
Alyssa was astonished. From the stories she’d heard, she’d expected them to be hell-raising hood rats. Perhaps all the stuff she’d read about them had been exaggerated.
Just as the introductions were winding up, Dave and Terry reappeared, lugging their camera equipment.
“Oh, here are the stars of the show!” Terry put on a big smile and o
ffered his hand to the four young men. “How are you boys doing? Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks, sir,” Colin nodded. The other three boys shook hands like they were meeting with a prospective new football coach – not a man about to film them having sex.
“We’re getting set up in the locker room over there,” Terry pointed towards the Home Team locker rooms. “Go to the end opposite where Alyssa’s makeup is set up.”
“Yes’sir.”
“And if you could,” Terry continued, “get dressed in your football gear. I’d like to film you throwing some passes and tossing a ball about first. Okay?”
The four boys nodded, looking at each other sheepishly.
Alyssa actually felt kind of sorry for them. They seemed as uncomfortable and self-conscious as Danielle had been before the two prior shoots. She wondered what they must be feeling – about to expose themselves to the entire world, in a desperate attempt to raise the money that might keep them out of jail.
Alyssa’s motherly instincts overwhelmed her. She just wanted to protect them.
But, instead, she watched them head off towards the locker rooms, lugging their netting bags of pads, shirts and cleats.
Only once they were out of view did she turn around, to see Michael staring at her with a worried expression on his face.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
He held up his watch.
“Didn’t you notice? Danielle’s, like, an hour late.”
Chapter Twenty
At first, Alyssa didn’t worry.
“She’s what? 23? You know what pretty girls are like when they’re that age.” Flicking open her phone, Alyssa checked for messages from their leading lady. “She’s probably just running late.”
But there was nothing. No texts. No messages. No voicemail.
“Why don’t you give her a call?” Michael suggested. “I’m starting to get nervous.”
So Alyssa did. Picking up the phone, she waited until she heard Danielle’s number ringing and then…
*click*
The phone went dead.
“She… she hung up on me,” Alyssa’s brow creased.
Fretting a little, Alyssa tried the number again. This time it rang for longer – but nobody picked up. And then, eventually, it went straight to voice mail.
Alyssa bit her lip.
“What the fuck’s going on?”
That was the moment that Terry chose to appear – walking out of the locker room with his camera and tripod slung over one shoulder.
“Yo!” He called cheerfully. “Where’s our leading lady?” Terry checked his watch. “I’d like to get started before too long. We only have a few hours of good light.”
Alyssa looked up.
“Yeah, there might be a problem.” She held up her phone – now showing three unanswered calls to Danielle.
Terry narrowed his eyes. His own phone was in his hand within seconds.
After punching in Danielle’s number, he waited for it to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
And then it went straight to voicemail.
Terry left a message: “Dani? Danielle, honey. It’s Terry. You’re meant to be here already, baby. We’re all running behind now. Can you give me a call and let me know when you can make it?”
And then he ended the call.
Looking up, Alyssa could see he was as worried as she was.
“Hey, I’ve known Danielle not much longer than you guys,” he admitted, “but this isn’t like her. She can be quiet. Unfriendly, even, if she doesn’t know you. But she’s never let me down before. I’m worried about her.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Michael said, jerking his thumb towards the locker room. “It’s them. We can’t shoot a movie if we haven’t got a girl to star in it. And we can hardly ask for our money back.”
Alyssa suddenly had an idea.
“Hey – do you have Matthew’s number?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Terry nodded. He flicked open his phone.
“No, let me call him,” Alyssa insisted. “He and I…” she gave Michael an awkward glance, “…connected the other day. I think he’ll listen to me.”
Terry nodded, and read out the number.
Fingers trembling, Alyssa stabbed it into her phone.
A moment later, Matthew’s number started ringing.
And ringing.
And ringing.
But this time – mercifully – somebody did pick up. Alyssa heard the sound of somebody breathing down the end of the line.
“Matthew? Is that you?” There was silence. “It’s me, Alyssa…”
But before she could continue, Matthew’s voice cut her off:
“I’m sorry, Alyssa,” he told her. “Danielle’s not coming today.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alyssa felt a little woozy.
“W-what did you just say?”
“I said Danielle’s not coming,” Matthew repeated down the phone. He took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry… But she’s not ready to do this.” There was a long, lingering silence. “She doesn’t want to make a real porn film.”
Alyssa was stunned. Her mouth hung open.
“B-but… but…”
“There’s nothing you can say to change her mind,” Matthew explained. “She and I had a long talk about it and… Well, we’re giving up the movie business. We’re going to get married.”
“I-I…” Alyssa reached out and grabbed her husband’s arm for support. “We…” Finally, she found the words. “Danielle can’t just drop out. We need her, Matthew.”
“I-I know,” on the phone, Matthew’s voice had dropped to a sympathetic whisper. “I’m really sorry, Alyssa. We didn’t want to let you guys down but…” He took a deep breath. “Look, you were the one who told me to tell her how I feel. Now that I have… I can’t let her make this movie. She doesn’t want to make this movie. We’re done with all that.”
A deep breath.
“It’s just her and me now. We’re in love.”
Alyssa’s head swam.
Angrily, she snapped: “I don’t give a fuck if you’re in love or not – she can’t drop out now. We’re meant to be filming now. You could have at least given us some warning.”
But all Matthew responded with was: “Sorry.”
And then he hung up.
Alyssa stood there, staring at the phone, her pulse racing.
Eventually, she was able to look up at Terry and Michael.
“S-she’s not coming,” Alyssa stammered. “The bitch isn’t coming.” She gulped down tears. “She and Matthew are in love, or something, and he says she isn’t fucking coming!”
Immediately, tears began flowing from Alyssa’s eyes.
“Woah, baby,” Michael swooped her up in his arms and squeezed her. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
But Terry didn’t seem so reassured.
“Dude, it’s not okay,” he warned, watching Micheal’s wife sob into his chest. “Dude, we paid those four guys already. Without a girl we can’t make our movie – and without our movie, we can’t make our money.”
Michael’s eyes grew wide.
Alyssa pulled her head from his chest. Tears streaked her makeup.
“Exactly, Michael,” she growled. “If we can’t make this movie, we’ll lose every penny we invested!”
Michael staggered back, leaning against the car.
He was doing some calculations in his head.
They’d just re-mortgaged their home at a monstrous interest rate. Forget losing every penny they invested – if this movie didn’t get made, they’d lose their house.
“Holy shit,” Michael ran his hand through his thinning hair. “What the fuck are we going to do?”
The three of them exchanged desperate glances.
“Do you know any other girls?” Alyssa demanded. Terry shook his head.
“Could we rent one? Find one? Hire a hooker or something?”
�
��Jesus, Michael,” Terry slapped his forehead. “There isn’t a hooker hotline. We can’t just call up and get a woman delivered… And even if we did, she doesn’t have the paperwork.” He held up a photocopy of Danielle’s driver’s licence and clean STD report. “It says in our contract with those boys that the girl they perform with needs to have a clean STD test.”
He shook his head.
“We’re fucked,” Terry admitted. “We’ll just have to send ‘em home. We’re going to lose it all – all the money he spent hiring this place… We’ll have to sue them to get our money back; not that they even have a way to repay it.”
The director looked up, utterly defeated.
“I-I’m sorry, guys,” he stammered. “We’re going to lose everything.”
And that was when Alyssa spoke up.
Voice trembling, she reached into her handbag and pulled out another sheaf of paper; similar to the photocopy that Terry had been waving around.
“Y-you said the girl had to be STD tested, right?”
Terry and Michael looked up, and their eyes narrowed.
“When I took Danielle to get her test done, I took one too,” she explained. “Just because she was scared of needles.” She shrugged. “Y’know.”
“W-was it clean?” Michael asked – to which Alyssa not-too-gently punched him in the balls.
“Of course it was clean, you jackass,” she spat.
Terry ignored the sight of Michael, bending over in pain.
He snatched the paperwork from Alyssa and studied it.
“Holy shit,” his eyes widened as he read it. “This is it. This is what we need.”
Michael was still clutching his balls.
“W-what do you mean ‘what we need’,” he demanded. “What are you suggesting?”
Terry turned to him and bent over, so he could look the stricken husband right in the eye.
“I’m suggesting that your gorgeous wife over there,” he pointed towards Alyssa, “could take Danielle’s place.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“No fucking way.”
Michael looked like he was about to punch Terry for even suggesting it.
Staggering back and forth, still clutching his wounded nuts, the angry husband was turning beetroot red.
The Accidental Porn Star: A Neglected Wife Becomes a Porn Star Sensation Page 7
