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[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE]
Irene had been working at the Norris Agency in LA for years. She had seen it all, done it all, hired them all, fired them all. But what walked in off the street that day was, well, a first.
In her office off Wilshire Boulevard was an elderly couple. They identified themselves as Jeffrey and Frances. Irene was no fool and hit the google page. These people were large contributors to groups that would frown on what they were about to do. They also were the heirs to a family corporate fortune, a fortune that would soon be going to their heirs in turn. What in the world were they doing in her office? Entrapment? It would be a pretty odd and obvious act by the cops if it was…
Jeffrey (“JD”) was the first to break the ice; he offered his slightly shaky, spotted hand to the talent manager. He said, “if you don’t know us from the charity awards show of our corporation, I am Jeffrey —call me JD—and this is Frances(“FD”). You can call her Fran. I know you must be wondering, maybe worrying, what we are up to. We know you must be wary. We have an unusual request and figured you might be the person to see. If at any point you think this too odd, or too suspicious, just tell us and I can cell call my limo driver. We didn’t want to park it in front and get unwanted attention for both our sakes, you understand.”
Irene said, “BOY, do I ever understand…go on…you have me interested. This is almost believable…”
JD continued. “As you can see, we are somewhat advanced in years but still married (he took Frances’ equally spotted hand.) This will be our 60th wedding anniversary. As you might imagine, some of us get more and more sentimental as we get older and the majority of our lives are behind us. Wedding albums, family heirlooms, these are all ignored when they are fresh and new, but begin to achieve priceless memento status when the years pass. Now on to the main show:
For many people, the honeymoon, especially the first honeymoon of their first marriage, are the happiest days of their lives. Nowadays, people have so many modern devices…camcorders, DVD recorders, iPhone, cellphone, movie cameras, well I don’t have to tell you. Anyway, people keep a recording of these happiest days, allowing them to re-live this time later, and forever.”
Irene chimed in, “oh, like Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson?” they looked at each other quizzically, shaking their head. “God, I’m sorry, keep going, my bad,” said Irene.
A bit flustered, JD continued, “Anyway, before the Phyllis Diller jibes, I was saying, many people have a recordation of their happier times. We don’t…there were very few ways to film yourselves in the 40’s and 50’s without hiring a film crew. Even if we had the money then (we did, actually), it would’ve been a weird way to spend your honeymoon with a filming crew of 14 strangers in our room.”
Irene laughed…JD and FD laughed too. Irene was now “smitten” with this story and wondered where it was leading and how she fit in.
JD: “I know your time is valuable, and our time, well, we don’t have a great deal of it left. So, let me ‘cut to the chase’ as they used to say in Hollywood. (Irene sat bolt upright, waiting for the “punch-line” to this obvious joke)”
“We want you to hire actors who look like us, like the photos from our wedding album. And we want those actors (he looked at Frances, who blushed, looked down, and then motioned with her hand to get on with it…) to re-create our honeymoon according to our exact description.”
Irene sunk back in her chair. She had never been at a loss for words in the public under a spotlight, but now? She said, “Assuming this is for real, and I’m still uneasy about this, how do I fit in?”
JD: “why I thought it would be clear. You seem to have an affinity for getting people together according to that movie and entertainment show, a third of which we own. We want you to get the actors, as you have at your finger tips access to what they used to call ‘central casting’, a who’s who of prospective actors and wannabe’s. We will pay you, rather generously, to arrange actors as close to the photos as you can. If you want even more, you can hire an independent producer who could find an unemployed unit director…I imagine at any given time there are a few of those bouncing around Hollywood. So, with a set linked to our photograph, actors tied to photographs, and our dialog, you/they will re-create in total detail, our honeymoon.”
Irene had heard it all, and this completed “it”. She stood up, and raising what ire she could muster (in that she was also old at 64 and only 5 feet tall), she said, “This IS a joke, or a trap, or something. I don’t know, just get out…oh, and have a nice day.”
Indignant, the elderly couple took each other’s hand, JD deploying his cell phone. He started calling when Irene stopped him. “Wait, don’t go. I am sorry, but I have heard 1,000’s of stories in casino siteleri this chair. Most people lie from the moment they walk thru that door to the time they put down their acting experience on the Screen Actors’ Guild application. You obviously are in earnest. Please forgive me and come back.”
Relieved, the couple settled back down into the withered and pitted leather chairs. A gopher came by and the elderly couple eschewed the sodas he had, asking for tea. He asked, “Ice tea?” Irene said, “no, you dope, real tea. Get three hot teas at the deli on Wilshire. I’m good for it. Five dollar tip, special request.” He smiled and zoomed out to get it.
Irene turned back to them. “Look, if this is just a MOVIE about your honeymoon, we can shoot it today on a back lot at Paramount. That’s not far from the Farmer’s Market. But, I have a feeling there is something more, or you wouldn’t have been so defensive. What is that certain ‘extra’ something?”
JD: “well you are right. We could have gone straight to Paramount or Universal if we just wanted to film some old ceremony. I think you are catching on to that certain something…we wanted the honeymoon re-created…that’s ALL OF IT. In fact, the honeymoon night, nuptial, consummation, call it what you will, IS the reason for this exercise. We want those actors, looking like us, to re-create every experience, nuance, feeling, thought, fragrance, touch, that we had, we did, that night. And here is where you might blush, so brace yourself:
If we just had two actors under the covers, grappling with each other, that wouldn’t be very romantic nor be a visceral experience that would take us back to yester year. We know that people look at us and think that we’re the type that call networks to complain about content. Well, we don’t, so screw them!”
Irene was stunned. THAT was right out of the blue. Being a smart cookie, though, she understood that he wanted to break the stereotype of old–meaning fuddy duddy, killjoy, etc.
JD: “We would like to be present for the shooting, although if that is a problem, we won’t make a nuisance of ourselves and will wait for the recordings. The point is, we want the actors to emulate our moment of touching, of love, and that is above the covers. But THAT’S not enough either. (Irene was thinking, who IS this guy, Ginger Lynn’s father?) We will script it and the actors will tie the script to the action. Only then can we see, feel , touch, what we shared that night. (He took his wife’s hands and kissed them. They hugged briefly)”
JD: “I know this strikes you as odd, very odd, an elderly couple asking for what some might call an adult film, but you understand the context now. And you must remember that old people were young once, and we thought old people who frowned on youthful things were ‘sticks in the mud’. So if you are still interested, we would like to get going asap, maybe today. Frances wants me to ensure the casting goes right. She’s not feeling 100% and will be absent a lot of the time. She joked that given I’m a man; I might want to cast the movie like the old ‘casting couch’ days of Hollywood. (Irene and Frances laughed) Frankly, I wish. But at this point, the only thing I could do to a young actress is make her laugh, or run away.”
Irene stood up. She made a mental note to add the lemon teas, plus $5 tip, to their bill. And how was she going to charge them. Oh, costs plus 50 percent. Well, they didn’t say they were on a budget, after all.
Irene: “well, I certainly have some calls to make. I might even farm the whole thing out to Livid Films (JD said they owned 10% of that company too) Anyway, we will be in touch, I assure you.”
15 days later:
JD: “well, has there been any progress?”
Irene: “Yes, we have a dozen prospective actors, 6 men, 6 women. You can be here for the final selection. You mentioned a script. Did you prepare one?”
JD: “well, my degree’s in accounting, so my script is more of a guideline than an exact word by word rendition. But you will see. I also, umm, what do you all call it…blocked it out too. The director can fill in the gaps as he (‘she’, Irene corrected), as she sees fit.”
Irene: “a courier will send over the photos of the 12 so your wife can help pick; I’m sorry she’s feeling poorly. Then when you show up on Wednesday, you will have a great idea as to the cast. See you then.”
The courier arrived at their Santa Barbara (CA) mansion. The houseman rushed the package, opened, to JD, sitting with an ailing Frances on the veranda. Opening the package fully, the photos, taken by professional glamour photogs, fell out over the glass patio table. He handed the 12 press folios of the actors to Frances. She dropped them. He apologized and fed her one folio at a time.
She said, “he’s too tall, she’s too buxom, he’s too swarthy, she’s….oh, I don’t think I can do this…I can’t help you. But I know you want this, and I want you to be happy. Sweetheart, please take this over, I have full canlı casino faith in you.” She coughed, he hugged her, kissed her on the cheek and helped her to the terry covered cushion on the chaise by the pool. In the moderate Santa Barbara afternoon, it was perfectly comfortable for her.
He said he’d be taking the limo to LA on Wednesday. He took the folios to their paneled office in the house.
JD’s breath started coming quickly as he saw the press packs. Hollywood is not for the shy; the press packs normally show the actor clothed, and scantily clad. For those who are promoting their versatility in roles, that is absolutely essential. JD saw the guys in shorts, shirtless, or even less. He put them aside. Breathing heavily, he went to the six folios of the women, who had been picked to match his blushing bride of 60 years ago. There was a war going on in JD’s head and this wasn’t helping.
You see, this project had been started by Frances who saw one of those reality dating and marriage shows. She said, “Wouldn’t it have been grand had there been some way to record our honeymoon?” Jeffrey (JD) agreed, and then proposed the crazy idea of actually re-creating it. She signed on, so off they were to one of the oldest press and talent agencies in LA and the country.
The battle in JD’s head was this. Did he want this as a sentimental film just to play a time or two with Frances, who was very close to being unable to watch and comprehend such a project? But, if NOT, was this project just an excuse for doing what he said it never would–doing the old ‘casting couch’ routine? JD felt so ashamed. Unknown to Frances, he had visited his doctor. She was nice enough to prescribe Viagra. He felt terrible, but he HAD to know. So, he got up and he took the Viagra, looking at the instructions. He waited for the prescribed time; he looked out, seeing Frances snug and asleep on the chaise. He took out the folio he most liked, a blonde actress, about 35, a divorced housewife and mother. Looking at her wonderful figure, seeing her in the Catalina one piece suit for the press shoot, her nipples purposely ‘ice cubed’ to catch the attention of prospective directors. He imagined those nipples having fed her three children and…oh lord, could it be. He looked down at his silk robe, and thru his under things, for the first time in years, his old friend had re-emerged. On and on it grew, JD had forgotten that he was quite the ladies’ man in his day. It finally stopped at eight and a half inches, as the ruler in the drawer crudely determined. He forgot if that was more or less than what it ever was. But now for the acid test. In front of the photo of Frances that sat on his desk in a slanted frame, he put that press picture of the sensuous actress and mother. Getting a silk hand-kerchief out, he tested the Viagra for ‘all its capabilities’. He was glad they had no neighbors within 100 yards and that Frances couldn’t be awakened by cannon. Staring at that photo, laser fixed on those pouting suckling nipples, the folds in her suit bottom that could only be described as ‘camel toe’, again to get attention, he worked hard. Finally, with a manly grunt he hadn’t made in 60 years, a rainbow of warm, off white, liquid shot out of his revitalized cannon and crossed over the desk, some 6 feet. Catching his breath, he wiped clean the long gooey mess and just in time, as the houseman rushed in, worried that there was a problem. JD said there was no problem; he tripped and twisted his knee, but he will just rest and let the swelling go down (a joke to himself that was…)
Tuesday: Frances was really under the weather. JD asked if he should call off Wednesday’s project. She said that she was not getting any younger, nor was he, so if he was going to do this project, he might as well get it started. He was wracked with guilt already, and he hadn’t done anything. As they retired to their respective rooms (he snored), he put on the Tonight Show. The LPN that was now in full attendance shouted for JD. He ran in. She said that she just called Santa Barbara General: Frances was in cardiac arrest. She didn’t have a cardiac needle or resuscitation kit with her, only the paddles they now sold for home use. She said she was unresponsive to that. The ambulance was 30 minutes out. JD asked, “can she, can she last that long?” The LPN said, “I don’t want to upset you, and…” JD was insistent. “What is YOUR prognosis, nurse?” LPN: “no doubt, she will be entered as DOA at receiving. In fact, I will record the time now. I am so sorry.”
This hit JD like a kick in the gut. He went back to his room to wash up and gather his thoughts. As he turned, the set was still on. The guest of the Tonite show was Jennifer Aniston. In classic Hollywood ‘look at me, go see my movie’ garb, her skirt was incredibly short, showing her fantastic legs. JD was stopped dead in his tracks. He felt guilty, horrible…but as he stared unashamedly and his breath got shorter, he decided to call the studio. The shoot would be called kaçak casino off (he took another gander at those fantastic legs of Ms Aniston)…called off until NEXT Wednesday.
Tuesday, the following week:
Well wishers and family members gave sympathy cards, flowers, candy, gifts, and pictures to JD as they laid Frances to rest on a quiet meadow outside of Santa Barbara near the UCSB campus. Ironically enough, given what was going to happen Wednesday, several of Frances’ friends, ranging in age from 60 to 76, offered to stay with JD during this terrible time. Some even intimated that they would comfort him in all ways. He cringed at the offers, though he certainly should have been more appreciative.
The day finally came. Irene was surprised to see him, saying that she had heard on the social network that Frances had passed away. He said that was true, but they had committed to this project. Also, he added, HE was still very much alive and he wanted the project, now dedicated to his departed wife, to go on. He certainly would appreciate the re-creation.
JD had called Irene, indicating the actors that he had chosen. He provided the script and sat in the folding blue chair (labeled VIP) and waited for the action.
The actors and director did their parts. The set, a props dept. job, was perfect. As the actor carried the lovely MILF actress across the threshold, JD licked his dry lips, wondering how the REAL project would do later that night. As the actress came out of the powder room in the same yellow frilly peignoir that his late wife had worn (per his drawing from memory), she scampered onto the bed. JD was breathing really hard, trying to conceal that. On the other hand, he felt really old, as his “old friend” was completely still. He hoped that Viagra would do the miracle job again for him. It had BETTER!!
As they simulated the sex (he told the director that no graphic sex needed to be done now), JD stared at the actresses gorgeous legs, her beautiful feet at either side of the driving hips of that lucky young actor. The actor was in fact 10 years the junior of that sexy mommy(a real MILF.) To JD’s relief, his last minute change to removing all graphic and ‘real’ elements to sex was keeping the actress clear, clean and ready…for him perhaps?
It was the end of the shoot. The producer shook hands with JD, gave his condolences, apologized for asking, but they had people to settle with.
JD said of course, and gave him a check for $50,000 which he had certified at the bank back in Santa Barbara.
The producer thanked him for the generosity.
JD said he only asked three things: 1-he (the producer) better pay everyone and soon, or he’d direct his next movie at San Quentin (they laughed); 2-he expected ‘rushes’ of the film by Friday by courier in Santa Barbara and the final product, with post production editing and a modest soundtrack in a month; and finally 3-he wanted to meet the actors to congratulate them in his suite at the hotel in Century City.
The producer said he’d try and catch them for that.
JD asked if the actors were traveling together.
The producer said: “I’m not sure, I don’t think so.” JD breathed a sigh of relief.
To JD’s utter relief and delight, the male actor showed up at the hotel. This meant that the actors knew where to find him. More importantly, he could fete, greet, meet, and delete the drone (the male actor) before the actress arrived. JD heartily shook his hand, asked for his card, and said he was going to put the ‘good word’ out for him. He gave him a bottle of Chateau Lafitte Rothschild (THAT impressed him) and told him he had to meet other people, but thanks. The actor left.
Twenty minutes later, the actress arrived. Right on time. JD had taken a certain pill (Viagra?) precisely an hour before. He didn’t glad hand her and push her out the door in 5 minutes. He asked her in; she gasped at the opulence of the suite as he briefly showed her around. He had her sit on the love seat across from the Italian white leather couch. She folded her incredible legs. Like the mind image of Ms Aniston, she too was not wearing stockings…she didn’t need any. She was relaxed enough to dangle her six inch high Lucite slide from her sexy ruby colored toes. Elaine was a housewife and mother, but she also knew that Hollywood preferred Heidi Fleiss types to Heidi (of Swiss fairy tales). As JD excused himself to use the facilities for a second, she re-set her considerable bust ‘assets’ by sliding her thumbs underneath them and then with both hands raising them oh so slightly and letting them silently adjust into upright bra supported perfection. Looking around the suite, and that bottle of Lafitte with her name on the gift card, she thought that this guy was the real thing. So without any fanfare, she reached in thru the sleeve cutout and undid and removed her mommy bra (the Maidenform label showing 36D.) Just to promote her chances like her press folio, she savagely tweaked her nipples. She tucked in the blouse aggressively, with the sides pressed back so that the material hugged the front of her glorious breasts, the nipples now angry and with no bra in the way, stuck out a mile.
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