XXX Shamus (14 page)

It was a blast furnace, Las Vegas in June. Divinity was almost overdressed in a bikini at poolside, where Hopper left her with her laptop after swimming laps.

He hated to lie to her, but he could tell that the research wasn’t going to net them any leads on Yasmin. Better to go and do the porn shoot. After that, he would be a one-woman man. Sister would understand. She’d probably try to twist his mind, but in the end she’d have to accept it.

Not if she’s pregnant with your child
.

She probably wasn’t.

How sure are you?

She wouldn’t really have her brother’s baby, would she? If he understood nothing else about what drove her, Hopper knew he couldn’t predict what lengths she’d go to.

Sweat and grease clouded Hopper’s glasses as he started down the block, so he took them off and cleaned them with the tail of his thin Cuban shirt. Everything was a blur. The previous night, also a blur, not because he was drunk. He stuck to Sprite mostly. It was all frantic and noisy, Divinity moving from table to table, casino to casino, on fast-forward. She was a flirt, but it felt different this time, like she was also quick to cuddle up to Hopper and give him a kiss, let everyone know they were solid. Maybe it was because they were in Vegas, away from the college friends and the routine. Hopper was praying that her behavior wouldn’t
stay
in Vegas after, though.

He stopped in a nearby casino gift shop to buy a box of Extra Large Warm Sensation Trojans. If he had to wear them, he might as well bring the ones he knew would make it feel pretty good.

It was an apartment building with a sixties retro thing going on, almost a motel. Four stories, one big block of
Swingers-
wannabes sadly past their prime. Hopper guessed the primary occupation of seventy percent of these guys was bartender. The other thirty—web designers who lied and told chicks they were “professional poker players.”

He climbed the stairs to 208, where he’d been told to report. A few raps on the door, and it was opened by a guy who looked forty, maybe more, with slicked back dark hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, a well-defined build not quite up to Hopper’s girth. Oiled. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I was told—”

The guy gave him a
Where was my head?
look and said, “Oh, right, they told me. Sorry about that.” Heel of palm to temple. “Get in here.”

Hopper walked into the foyer, smelled incense and hand cream. He looked left and saw a small bar full of finger foods and some cans of energy drinks. There was a buzz in the place, maybe ten people in the living room setting up a couple of digital video cameras, much nicer than the ones Hopper dreamed of buying in electronics stores, having to settle for crappy 8mm palmhelds on his divorce gigs. A bright light on a tripod. All aimed at the couch. Propped against the doorframe of what probably led to the bedroom was a striking but too-thin woman, arms crossed, bored. She had long blond hair, straight and shiny like silk. Probably late thirties, her real body betraying the plastic surgery meant to keep age at bay. Hopper guessed this was Jessica Weedgardner. She held a clipboard, looked at it absently, then scanned the room for something to keep her occupied. Hopper did the trick.

Shouted across the room, “You the new guy?”

Hopper nodded and walked over to her. No handshake offered, no hugs, no smiles. Damned serious, and maybe envious, wishing she could keep doing the work she had altered herself so severely for. Wanting to feel sexy, not infected.

Jessica looked him up and down, not asking him to get naked like her husband had. Then Hopper remembered—she was about to see him naked anyway.

“Not bad. Vince has a good eye. You’re one that a girl might consider for a sympathy fuck at first, but once she gets a load of the muscles, well…” Something that might have been a smile flickered. “He said your cock is huge.”

Hopper said, “I don’t know. I’ve never compared it to others.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” It took a few more moments before, as usual with women, she started to melt a little in his presence. Reached out for his shoulder to hold steady. “Whoa. Now I get it. There’s something different about you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Her fingers ran along his shoulders, his throat, his chest. Then she jerked her hand away as if she’d gotten a shock.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that.” On the verge of tears. Hopper felt for her as he stood there, feeling a little awkward. Like a woman who’d finally found the perfect dish after years of searching, but she couldn’t swallow anymore. The perfect song, but she was going deaf. Jessica cleared her throat. “What’s in the bag?”

Hopper brought out his box of condoms. “Mr. Weedgardner said I’d need a couple, since I’m new.”

She took the box from his hand and read the description, a real grin on her face, her moment of joy for the day. Then she met his eyes. “Do you have any diseases?”

Hopper didn’t know. He said, “I don’t know.” The hair on his arms rose. He’d never been asked that pointblank before. He’d only been tested once, and that was after being ass-raped by Clint, the mechanic. “I think not.”

“Let me guess—none of the people you slept with have it, far as you know, or you would’ve heard.”

“Pretty much.”

She shook her head. “It’s more than us caring about our actors. It’s business. We could get shut down. I’ll have to schedule you a test. In the meantime, you can stay hard in a couple of these for a long time?”

Hopper hadn’t used condoms in a long time, had forgotten how they felt. All he needed to do was be convincing for that one day, though. “Sure, I can stay up for hours. Let’s go.”

She ripped the box open and handed him two. “We’ll probably work through all these, with the starts and stops and camera angles. You can fuck her ass, and she can suck Dino off. He’s been with us awhile, so we’ll get the money shot from him.

It shouldn’t have, but it set Hopper off-balance for a moment. “You mean it’s a threesome?”

Stone cold response from Jessica. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, just wasn’t sure of the details.”

“And you do realize people will be watching, right? Can you be a
professional
about this? We’ve had plenty of newbies come in—frat boys, mid-life crisisers—all saying they were up to the challenge. Then they crumbled, literally, under the lights and the gaze. Pisses us off. This ain’t your fucking bedroom and your fucking video camera while you fuck your drunk fucking girlfriend,
comprende
?”

Hopper crossed his arms and straightened his back. He could tell it flustered Jessica. She pulled at her collar, worked it like a fan. He said, “Take another whiff and you tell me.”

“Oh, you’re going to do fine.”

Inside, he was scared shitless. He’d never been in a threesome with another guy. Fucking as just a job? Maybe this actress wouldn’t be carried away by his spell. Maybe he’d finally have the addiction broken, the way a parent punishes a child by having him smoke the
entire carton
of cigarettes. Which was fine. Anything to help him enjoy monogamy, to explore something with Divinity he’d only grudgingly shared with his sister—intimacy. Bare naked intimacy.

Hopper wanted to
fight
with Divinity, yell and scream, say things both would regret later, then apologize and pledge love. Make-up sex. They’d struggle to not cheat and take out their pain on each other. Grudge fucks, withholding, date nights,
children
, for God’s sakes, boredom, fantasy, rekindling, sinking, knowing more than you ever wanted to know about someone, beyond the way her insides felt when he shoved his dick in too far and too hard. He wanted to know her when she was going through menopause, wanted to bang her when she needed K-Y to lube up and he needed Cialis to firm up, until their sex drives vanished and all they had were memories that left both unfulfilled and ready to die because life no longer tickled their nervous systems the way it used to.

That
was preferable to what he was about to do.

“Ready to meet her?” Jessica asked, before stepping back to rap her knuckles on the bedroom door. “Places, everyone.”

The slick actor clapped his hand on Hopper’s back and said, “Follow her lead if you get lost. Keep the dirty talk simple, and remember to keep your hands moving. Don’t cover up her cooch, but finger her clit when she’s not doing it herself.”

“Thanks.”

The actress wandered in from the bedroom, laughing at some joke a cameraman told her. Hopper took her in—petite, straight hair, and obviously pregnant. Her maternity dress was old-fashioned, sort of a joke. She wore a wide bow in her hair. She sat on the couch as the lighting guys made adjustments, propped her bare feet on the coffee table, and wagged a finger at Dino and Hopper. “Now don’t be too rough. You know I’m getting farther along.”

Dino said, “Yes, my love.”

Hopper didn’t say anything. He was having a hard time looking at her, knowing he was about to shove himself into her ass.

Looking at Yasmin.

At least he’d found who he was searching for.

The photos Hopper had seen were way off. Yasmin knew how to wear plenty of masks convincingly. He’d already had a glimpse of that from talking to Isaac the Cuckold and Ivana the Lioness, watching her in Figg’s cut-rate porno. Seeing her in the flesh, her eyes darkened with mascara, lips glossy and peach, made Hopper’s stomach sink. The girl in front of him wasn’t a victim, wasn’t even desperate. Yasmin was loving it. Loving the power she had—the
star
of this fuck flick—even if it was only an illusion. Or maybe it wasn’t an illusion. All the moralists complaining that porn degraded women could be really off-base.

If anything, Hopper was surprised at how typical everyone there seemed to be—no leering, no double entendres, no piles of coke and a community straw. They talked about who they voted off on
American Idol
, dating gossip, where Yasmin found those sandals she had worn to work that day.

She patted the seat beside her and asked Hopper to sit down, introduce himself.

Yasmin shook his hand firmly. “I’m Eve, at least on screen. It’s my business name.”

“Nice to meet you.” He almost added,
Finally
, but held his tongue. Hopper couldn’t remember the name he’d given Weedgardner. “I’m thinking of going with Axl. Axl Greece, like the country.”

“That’s not bad. I haven’t heard it before. This your first time, then?” She pointed to the condom packets in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m a little green.”
Run. Don’t do what I think you’re going to do
.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I can’t afford to take chances, see?” Fingers spread on her bulging stomach. “Need to protect my future.”

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“You know, I decided I didn’t want to know. It’ll be a surprise for everybody except the doctor.” Proud as could be. She was letting a little of the New Orleans accent creep back into her voice as she grew more comfortable, maybe unconsciously reacting to Hopper’s.

He said, “What about the father? One of these guys?”

Her grin dropped and she said, “That’s rude. We don’t talk like that around here.”

Hopper held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”

Some production chatter behind the camera. Hopper thought they were almost ready. The voice in his head told him to get the hell out of there. He didn’t have to do the scene. All he had to do was wait in the parking lot until they were done, catch her on the way out and explain how Kristen had hired him. That was the way it should happen.

You can’t fuck her and then tell her why you’re here.

Yasmin/Eve said, “So, you know how this is going to go?”

“A little bit.”
Bad vibes.

“They gave you a part with no lines, since they figure you’re nervous enough already. You’ll be Dino’s assistant, and you’re both here painting the nursery. I’ll sit here and read a magazine, then you’ll both come in and tell me you’re done for the day. I’ll be thankful, but a little sad. Dino will ask what’s wrong, and I’ll talk about how no one finds me sexy anymore because I’m pregnant. Then it’s, like, ‘What about your husband?’ and I’m like, ‘He says he’s working, but I can tell I don’t turn him on anymore.’ See, there’s another scene right before this one where he fucks his secretary.”

Hopper nodded along and saw where the story was going. He was fascinated by how Yasmin really got into it.

“So Dino will talk about how he thinks I’m hot, and then turn to you, ask if you agree. I’ll accuse you both of humoring me, then he’ll kiss me, and from there, yada yada, follow his lead, and when the time is right, you’ll do my ass. We’ll cut right before you have to put the condoms on, so don’t worry about it yet. I might jerk you some until then, while Dino goes down on me, but you’d better not come, you got it? Promise me.”

“I promise.” For a moment, he forgot who she was, thinking of how Yasmin’s confidence made her more attractive than the image he’d carried in his mind until then.

“Okay, so you and Dino get into costume and talk it over with the director. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He nodded. He knew. No control over it. Hopper would hate himself later.

Oh yeah, this is as low as you’ve ever gone.

The director was the husband in the other scene Yasmin mentioned, helming his first picture after a couple of years of acting. He explained to Hopper that they used multiple camera angles so they could edit it two ways—a less explicit version and a hardcore XXX.

“The weaker stuff makes more money, actually. The sort of stuff couples rent together, not much heavier than softcore. So we anticipate that, try to get an angle where no one can see the actual penetration. That’s what makes the difference. And we need two climaxes—one fake where the guy seems to finish inside her, and one where he pulls out and blows his load on her stomach, her face.
That’s
the money shot.”

The director was treating Hopper less like an actor, more like a student. Hard to take a “teacher” named “Jim Handy” seriously.

“So if we have to cut, move some things around, move you around, don’t let it soften you up. Need to build your stamina.”

It would take three hours to shoot what he was told would be a fifteen minute sex scene. Most porn movies worked that way—four or five fifteen minute sex scenes with story in between. And the story mattered. This one was about a man rediscovering the sexuality of his pregnant wife when he catches her fucking her obstetrician and his nurse.

Then it started. A little more direction from Jim Handy, plus some pointers from Dino and Yasmin as Hopper lubed her ass, and the scene was underway. Yasmin’s acting wasn’t over-the-top, but it wasn’t great. It was enough to make Hopper think he was watching a soap opera instead of a porno. When he and Dino entered the scene in their paint-streaked overalls, she stood from the couch and worked through the dialogue, again without subtlety, until Hopper nodded when he was supposed to, ad libbing, “Not bad at all,” and the make-out session began.

It went quickly, Dino heading right for the tits almost immediately, the dress falling to the floor, while Hopper kissed the back of Yasmin’s neck. He noticed she wore a G-string but no bra. Fetishists liked their preggies barefoot, of course, so as Dino leaned the girl onto the couch, Hopper rubbed her foot and leg, running his tongue from her toes to knee and back again. His subconscious voice had been gagged. Yasmin tasted greasy and sweaty under the hot lights, the earlier odors replaced by the sickly sweet lube smell.

Next came the pussy eating, Dino heading down south and lapping his tongue loudly while Hopper fondled her breasts with his fingers and mouth. She unbuckled and unsnapped his costume until he was barechested. He worked his legs out of his jeans and was already on the rise.

“Jesus
Christ
,” Yasmin whispered when she saw his dick. “I didn’t know you were
black
.”

“I’m not.”

Another low whsiper. “Oh, god, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker, isn’t it?”

She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and slid up and down expertly, unlike the way her sister Kristen treated it like a rubber chew toy. Yasmin was a lover experienced beyond her years.

Dino got a peek and said, “That thing’s real?”

Hopper said, “Won’t the cameras pick up our talking?”

“They’ll dub the stuff that stands out, leave in the rest. Show him, Eve.”

Yasmin closed her eyes and reclined her head and made noises like she was preparing for take-off, the orgasm coming quickly. Her fingers worked rhythmically on Hopper’s cock and Dino’s head at the same time. It was unique, spectacular, and sent a chill through the private eye that got him from half-hard to rigid in two seconds flat.

Dino was getting naked, too, rising from Yasmin’s crotch as she spread her legs wide and prepared for him, her bubble belly and full breasts sending out animal eroticism. She was growling.

The director said, “So, Axl, usually this would be where she blows you, but if we’re not doing that, how about you stand aside while they do this one? Thanks.”

He watched Dino fuck Yasmin, and as the sensation of her flesh on his wore off, he remembered why he had come here anyway, betraying Divinity’s trust and his own self-worth instead of relying on good old-fashioned investigation. He thought about the baby in her belly—fathered by Keith Sanchez, whose family was rich enough that he could pretend this little mistake never happened.

The others:

Isaac, sitting at home with his miserably strict father, his love for Yasmin the only escape he had until she took it away.

Kristen lost her baby sister long before she split town.

The Pornographers Figg and Ivana seducing her trust, encouraging her to aim for sex stardom.

Not to mention the teenage girls who knew the story and might aspire to be like Yasmin one day. The friends he spoke to weren’t much younger than the actress on the couch in front of him. When he kissed Janice, she barely knew what was going on, but Yasmin was a pro.

She owed something to all of these people. If not an apology, than at least an explanation.

Jim Handy cried, “Cut!” and then stepped over to Hopper. “We’ll be ready for you in a minute, so go ahead and get those condoms on.”

Hopper shook himself out of his daze. Yasmin was adding some extra lube, telling Dino, “I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Dino crossed his arms. His dick was in-between soft and hard, a hair-trigger probably. It glistened with Yasmin’s juices.

Hopper sat on the couch and waited until the cameras and lights were adjusted. Yasmin was casual about her nakedness, complaining to Jessica about her swelling feet and craving for beef jerky. “I mean the good stuff. Not Slim Jims.”

The pregnant girl walked over to Hopper and turned away from him, ready to sit on his lap. She glanced over her shoulder. “You strong enough to carry my fat ass right now?”

“Not a problem.” He slapped his thigh.

She climbed onto the cushions in a crab stance, Hopper holding her waist as she grunted and giggled. Dino climbed up beside her, standing and throwing Hopper off-kilter. He reconfigured, struggled to breathe under the pressure Yasmin was putting on his chest.

“You comfy back there?” she said.

“More than comfy. Feels good.”

Yasmin flicked Dino’s penis with her thumb and laughed. “You’re a little sad today, mister. Depressed?”

Dino shrugged. “Just something with Rita is all. She doesn’t want the kids to visit next weekend.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

The director said, “We’re rolling, so let’s get rockin’.”

With that, Yasmin lowered herself onto Hopper’s lap, taking every inch, until she was holding on for dear life
,
tight enough to make Hopper grit his teeth, and loose enough to make him wonder what’s been up her ass before. A foot-long dildo? A walking stick?

After some banging and shouting from her, she slowed and took Dino’s cock into her mouth, sealed her lips around and exaggerated the blowjob for the camera.

Maybe it was the crowd or his embarrassment or his conscience murdering his lust or the fact that
goddamnit
he wanted to come really really badly, but Hopper chose that moment, in the craziness and cocksucking and assfucking and bright lights to whisper in Yasmin’s ear: “I know who you are. Your sister hired me to find you.”

She craned her neck, Dino’s shaft slipping out and bouncing rigid against her cheek, a sharp hiss saying, “
Excuse me?
”

“Your family misses you, Yasmin.”

He was sure Dino hadn’t heard. It was between the two of them. Her fake moans and dirty schmoozing stopped cold, as did the bucking bronco ride. The director’s eyes went wide.

Yasmin broke the silence, shouting out, “No, it’s too much. Ow ow ow,
shit
. This guy’s too big for me. Cut it.”

Jim Handy waved his arms wildly and yelled, “Cut! Cut! Cut!” as the lights shut off, leaving blue streaks and spots that Hopper tried to blink away. Dino stepped off the couch and leaned close to Yasmin, a moment before the director and Jessica crowded around, all cooing and asking if she was okay. She slid off Hopper’s lap and pushed through them. “I need a few minutes, okay? Leave me alone.” Headed for the bedroom, slammed the door.

Jessica stared unashamed at Hopper cock, which was shrinking fast, the condoms wrinkling as it deflated. “It’s a monster,” she said. “But Eve’s had bigger.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She walked off, tapped on the bedroom door, then slipped inside and closed it again.

The crew busied themselves, chattered. Dino shrugged into a robe and helped himself to the fruit buffet. Hopper sat naked on the couch and crossed his legs, waiting for the next move. Would he be taking Yasmin back to New Orleans with him, or would he be beaten unconscious by the crew of a porn flick?