C.A.R.P. Ch. 10

Part Ten - Summer Break (Junior → Senior Year)

The last free summer I was ever going to have. That was my line of thinking going into the summer break between junior and senior year. I wanted to relax. I needed to destress and not focus on what chaos I'd seen just a few short months ago. I wanted to have the season open, as open as I could get it. But the rules still applied. I could only be off campus for a week at a time, before coming back to the campus to check in.

(For what it's worth, yes, for a while I did suspect that we were being treated with chemicals via food, water or oxygen, but I spent a good part of the first month of my last summer break disproving that. We tested the air in our dorm rooms, we installed air purifiers, we avoided the cafeteria food for a month, and we only drank bottled water that we bought ourselves. And we tested our body's chemistry regularly. For anyone who asked, we passed it off as a training regimen that Julia was going through and told everyone that we were doing it with her as an act of solidarity. But we found nothing. That said, my current line of thinking is that whatever chemicals we were exposed to, it was during our freshman year, and had had years to settle into our systems.)

In early July, however, I was sent an email inviting me to go to Dr. Igarashi's office, and I can tell you, I was definitely nervous as all hell. I'd gotten very good at controlling my body's subtle tells and giveaways, but not even the most accomplished of us is perfect, and I knew that if the Doctor suspected that I was aware she'd been involved in the death of Will Bierko, and possibly several others, I would join them in their concrete pillar tombs.

All the girls offered to go with me, but I told them if they all showed up, we were only going to look even more suspicious, so I decided to take just Chelsea with me, since she was easily the best of the three at keeping my emotional side in check. So, on a Monday afternoon, the two of us went to visit the Doctor in her office.

I'd been to Dr. Igarashi's office several times over the years, and each time, it seemed like it got a little bigger, a little more ostentatious, a little more preening, as if her success was being translated into comfort and wealth around her for display. I found it a little telling, but of course I kept that insight to myself. I figured pointing out that the young and hungry Doctor who had recruited me to her college had gotten a touch lax and self-indulgent to her face would've only gotten me in the very trouble I was working to avoid.

The furniture, the views, the artwork - each time I came to see her, it all got a little bit more pretentious, public focused rather than for the simple joys of things. It was less and less of her on display and more and more of the image she wanted to portray. Still, I couldn't tell how much of herself she was losing to the false front she was wearing for the edification of those she brought here.

"Hello, Doctor," I said to her with a smile. "I'm sure you remember my emotional partner, Chelsea."

"Of course I do," Doctor Igarashi said, taking Chelsea's hand and shaking it. "I recruited her myself specifically for you, Josh, so I'm glad to hear you two are working out so well. I heard you and Abigail had a bit of a rocky start, but it sounds like you two are on the same page these days."

"Abi's got quite the head of steam on her about what she wants to do with her life, and sometimes it takes all three of us to bring her back down a bit to earth, to make sure she isn't making plans beyond her reach."

"I thought I taught you nothing was beyond your reaches, Josh," the older woman said to me with a little grin that made the pit want to fall out of my stomach, but I held my ground.

"No, you taught us that nearly nothing was beyond our reaches, and how to tell the difference between the impossible and the highly unlikely, Doctor," I said, trying to use my patient smile, as if to imply that I could tell she was testing me, because of course she was.

Everything was a test.

"Very good, Josh," she said approvingly. "You always have been one of the brightest students here. That's particularly why I invited you here today, to discuss an opportunity that's become available to you, well, to us, per se, through you."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Doctor."

"I'm sure it's no secret to you that they're filming an adaptation of your novel, 'Last of the Luddites,' right now, yes?"

I remember laughing a little bit, simply because it felt for once in my life that Dr. Igarashi didn't know everything about me before I told her. "Well, I was aware they purchased the film rights, and that an adaptation was in the works, but not that it had gotten so far as to already be in the filming stages," I said to her. "When I sold the rights to the book, I figured it would be best if I simply took a maximally hands-off approach, so that I could concentrate on my schoolwork, and, more importantly, so I didn't become disillusioned with what they were doing to my story. I didn't want script review, I didn't want actor approval - in fact, I told my literary agent specifically not to tell me anything about it until it was approaching premiere, or, at the absolute earliest, when they had a first cut of the movie, something I could see and offer feedback on. Beyond that, I'm afraid I don't really know anything about it."

"I, by contrast, know quite a lot about it, Josh, and that's why I've invited you here. I want to make you a... rather unique offer. A chance for you and your whole pod to spend three or four consecutive weeks off campus, no returning to campus at any time during the middle of it."

"That's... can I ask why?"

"I'd like to deploy you to their film set, Josh," she said with a slight sigh. "One of the producers on the film is an old friend of mine, and he's worried that they've screwed something up, and they aren't sure if it's in the script or in the actor's performances or... they don't want to mess it up, and I don't want them to either. They reached out to me to ask if they could have you come down and stick around for the entirety of what remains of their shooting schedule. They'll rent out a house for you, provide daily transportation to and from the set, all your meals, completely comped."

"Hmmm," I said, even though in my head I was already thinking of how I was going to tell Abi and Julia that we were going to spend a month in Hollywood. "Let me ask one key question, because if it's cast wrong, there isn't a whole lot I can do with it - who're the main actors involved?"

"Tom Skerritt, Matt Damon, Natasha Henstridge, Rene Russo and Angela Bedlam as the reporter investigating the story," Doctor Igarashi said. "And Chow Yun-Fat is playing Bedlam's editor at the paper, which is surprising, since I thought he only did Hong Kong films."

"Who's directing? Don't tell me they got Tony Scott or another of those crazy shaky-cam directors to film it."

"No no... a guy who's known for making smaller, more intense pictures, although he usually directs his own writing. David Mamet."

That certainly caught my attention, because regardless of what you think, I consider Mamet one of the greatest writers of dialogue in the business, and if he had adapted my book and was having trouble with it, I definitely wanted to see what he and I could get when we put our heads together. "House of Games" is a criminally underrated movie, and he'd just a few years back done another film called "The Spanish Prisoner" that I adored. Based on that, I assessed that there was enough potential for them to make a good adaptation of the book, if they could nail the tone right, and hone on the rather fine tightrope I'd walked between black comedy and drama.

"Forgive me for asking what might be a rather rude question, but this seems more like a request from an old friend," I said to her. "What's your actual motivation behind wanting to dispatch me to the set?"

She laughed at me, nodding her head as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I need to remember you're not the young high school senior I first met years ago. You've gotten extremely perceptive as you've gotten older. Much more insightful than many of your fellow classmates, at least when it comes to human nature."

"I'm a writer, Doctor Igarashi," I told her. "It's an essential part of my job to be able to find insight in those I see around me, so I can convert that into meaningful motivations in my stories."

"C. A. R. P. is one of the major investors in the adaptation of "Last of the Luddites," Josh, and if it does well, the Academy stands to profit quite significantly from it," she said. "It was a gamble I felt comfortable taking, once we saw that cast list, and now that they're a little nervous, I want to do everything we can to allay those fears and right the ship once more, as it were."

"I've never been on a film set before, nor was I writing the book with a screen translation in mind, so I don't know how much I can help, but I can try and do a crash course on the way there and see if I can offer any insight that will help them get it back on track."

"It's your book, Joshua," Dr. Igarashi told me. "You more than anyone would know how to salvage it. As long as you feel comfortable with that, I can arrange a car to take you and your pod to SFO today, and you won't be expected back until filming has wrapped up."

"They will, of course, be paying me for my time?"

"Naturally, Josh. You'll be fully taken care of."

I remember nodding. "Give me an hour to gather everyone up, let them get packed and then send a limo over to pick us up."

"Why a limo and not simply a cab?"

"I'm fairly certain my partners will not pack lightly if we're going to be there a month or two," I said with a grin as Chelsea and I stood up and headed out of the office.

True to her word, within an hour Dr. Igarashi had a large limo waiting to drive us to SFO. We flew first class down to Los Angeles, and when we arrived, there was a limo driver waiting to pick us up and take us from the airport over to the studio lot, saying that the director wanted to meet with me immediately, so I could watch the dailies of what they'd already filmed and get started thinking about what was wrong.

I'd read a book on screenwriting on the plane ride down, and had spent the drive from the airport to the studio thinking about how to fix the film, and once I started watching the dailies, it was completely obvious - so much of what I'd done in the book had been voiced internally through the narration of three protagonists - the young upstart raider, the old corporate loyalist and the eager young reporter trying to cover both sides fairly. Without those three narrative voices guiding the project, so much of the biting humor was lost and it didn't feel like a comedy anymore.

My recommendation, my first recommendation anyway, was to add three voice-over narrations, and also to consider using color palettes to help differentiate whose perspective any individual scene was being presented from. That meant using lens filters, which could be added in post for the scenes they'd already shot. I told them that for the next few days, I would begin extracting what needed to be converted into voice over, and that we could take a day off from their shooting schedule to record some test voice over work that they could drop in over the dailies and get a sense of whether or not it helped.

If you've seen the movie, and I assume you have, you know that both of those decisions turned out to be key parts of the final movie and were cited by many critics as 'an element that shouldn't work, but somehow fits perfectly.' Morgan Freeman had done it in 'The Shawshank Redemption,' but that film hadn't quite elevated to classic status yet, and it only had one voiceover while we were using three, something that's still considered a rather daring move by us.

The first few days on set were... rather strange. The first day or so, it almost felt like nobody even noticed I was around, as I was paying attention to the actor's performances, making notes on how my dialogue had been adapted, and I noticed that some of the things that characters thought in the book needed to be voiced in the dialogue, and not in narration for just the audience. So I started giving the director notes. After a few days of that, the director told me that if I had further dialogue changes, I should just start revising the scripts beforehand, so I got to work on that.

By week two, we had gone from white pages to blue pages to green pages to pink pages as I essentially took the script the studio had and reworked it by half, never once adding anything that I hadn't put on the page in the book already, just repackaging it in new and interesting ways.

At first, the actors did a lot of grumbling, calling me a prima donna, saying I was too precious with my work, but day by day, I could feel them coming around, as the revisions helped scenes make more sense and land better. I could feel them starting to trust me, starting to respect that I was doing what I could help them look better, to make the project better.

By the third week, I'd finished all my major revisions to the script, we'd tried out the triple narrator voice-over idea (along with the accompanying visual stylings) and found that it worked, and I was suddenly stuck with very little to do, mostly just watching scenes, and helping actors adjust lines of dialogue if they had trouble saying them.

Looking back, that might have been the first point when I realized that Dr. Igarashi might have done something to our minds early on at C. A. R. P., given us abilities that we never quite realized we were tapping into.

When I'd first arrived on set, I'd literally been able to feel the tension floating around me, not in my mind, but in the minds of all the others I encountered. I remember feeling like I was willing them to relax, to desensitize to the stress, to see me as someone there to fix the problem for them, and each day I went home from set, I passed out like a lightbulb, like I'd run a goddamn marathon, when really I'd just been sitting around a set all day. But each day that followed, I could feel like that tension had been lessened marginally, and I remember wondering if I had had any impact on that, consciously or unconsciously.

One of the things I'd noticed in the spring semester was that those of us who had been at C. A. R. P. since the beginning had a sort of presence around us, when we tried. I had begun referring to it with the girls as The Influence.

At first, I'd wanted to attribute it to charisma, just natural charm and the mental insight and acuity of those of us who'd studied human nature for the past three years, but somewhere along the way it became clear to me that it definitely went past that, that it was a skill all of us C. A. R. P. originals possessed, and that we had it to varying degrees.

On set, I could literally feel my mind starting to rip away the stress from the actors and crew, replacing it with confidence. After the three weeks of working on building that confidence up for them, and fixing their script for them, I could finally show up to work and relax.

Yes, Agent Shetterly, I realize how fantastical it sounds, the idea of just using one's mind to alter brain chemistry, to implant thoughts inside of someone's head, but that's something that we, the alphas of C. A. R. P., at least the first class, can do, just that precisely. I've gotten pretty good at it, too. I can dig an idea in the back of someone's subconscious and they'll think they thought of it themselves. I'm certainly not first in my class at that ability, but I've gotten pretty good at using it when I need to.

You do that, Agent Shetterly. We'll see you in just a few minutes then.

...

Now that he's out of the room, I just implanted an idea for him to go and get us soft drinks from the vending machine, and I let him consciously know I planted that idea there, but what he doesn't know that I also implanted is he's going to bring me the wrong drink first, putting up a Coke Zero on the table before revealing he also brought an actual Coke to the table, to prove to himself that he still has some sense of willpower. Don't worry, you'll see it all for yourself in just a couple of minutes.

He'll be very proud of himself for resisting at first, until the snickers and giggles of you agents will give it away, and then he'll be both very cross and very frightened, but he'll be nervous that I'll do it to him again, so he'll sit down quietly and not bring it up further.

No, I can't see the future, but I've done this party trick a few times before and it inevitably ends the same way, and what I've told you again and again I'm excellent at is pattern recognition.

Alright, ask your questions, Assistant Director Caulfield, and I'll answer them.

Right, sounds like you've got a handful there, so let me take them one at a time - first and perhaps most importantly, I can't make anyone commit acts of violence against themselves or others, in explicit or even implicit detail. That's not necessarily true for all the C. A. R. P. grads, as I'm sure you may have noticed, but it certainly is true for most of us.

Dr. Igarashi would tell the graduating class some eight months later about The Influence, how each of us in the graduating class had it, and there were three scales on which it was graded - Power, Duration and Reach. My abilities, it turns out, are a 6 out of 10 on the power scale, a 9 out of 10 on the duration scale and a 2 out of 10 on the reach scale. As it turned out, most of us scored between 4 and 7 on the power scale, with the number of students above that being very few. Those students who did score above that, however, scored incredibly low on the other two scales. So yes, if you're asking me, are there people from C. A. R. P. who could make someone commit an act of violence, I must reluctantly confirm those people do exist, but they would need to be basically standing right next to someone, and the compulsion would pass within less than a minute.

The most powerful in The Influence can only do things in short bursts. For the career paths those people have chosen, those skills suit them well. After all, once you have gotten a password from someone's brain, what further use do you have for them, if you were going to kill them anyway?

I'm exceptional in the category of duration, meaning that anything I have people do can last for long periods of time, because I can't make them really do anything they wouldn't normally do with a little bit of coaxing. I also have to be right next to them when I plant the suggestion. But I can make it last, and I can set up things that won't trigger for days, weeks, months... maybe even years, although I've never tested anything that far out.

Ah, look, Agent Shetterly is back. A Coke Zero? Ha ha. Yes yes, very funny. Ah, I see, you brought me a real Coke as well. No no, pay them all no mind. They're just intrigued by your actions.

To get back to my story, after the first three weeks, I had mostly completed the task as it had been assigned, with just minor tweaks being made during day-to-day filming, I could spend the time observing what people were up to, and how they interacted.

It's also how I ended up having a summer romance with Angela Bedlam. I'd realized that I had the ability to induce a sense of calmness on the set, and so Abi challenged me to see if I could induce other emotions in people. Since the ability felt new and raw, I wanted to be very careful about how I deployed it, so I let the idea roll around in my head for an entire week before I did anything with it.

The idea was to see if I could take an idea that might already be rolling around in someone's head and to try and push it to the extreme. Now, I can't read minds, but I'd already been told by all three of my partners that Angela Bedlam was probably interested in me.

I never showed up to the set with more than one partner on any given day but had to explain who they were the first time someone new showed up. I introduced Abi as my girlfriend, Chelsea as my executive assistant and Julia as my physical trainer. Each of them had taken a turn chatting with Angela, and Abi had explained that her and my relationship was 'an open one,' something Angela remarked was 'incredibly modern' of us.

I think that was the moment when Abi decided she wanted to see me fuck Angela.

I know you're struggling to remember who Angela Bedlam is, mostly because she left acting and moved into directing right after this movie, so I'll give you a little reminder. She was a British redhead who'd moved to Hollywood when she was 18 and immediately starred in a film about a bunch of computer hackers who were trying to shut down the banking system as part of a heist that doubled as a political statement. It was called "Darkest Web," and it came out in 1997, a few years after the "Hackers" and "The Net" turned the idea of a technothriller into every Hollywood producer's wet dream. Well, "Darkest Web" tanked like nobody's business, and almost everyone associated with the film got pilloried quite badly.

Angela spent some time bouncing around mid-level television for a while before the producer of "Last of the Luddites" decided she would be a welcome third-name on the call sheet, below Skerritt (who most people know from the original "Alien," or "Top Gun," where he played Viper) and Matt Damon (who'd just rebounded from the crash of "The Legend of Bagger Vance" with an excellent turn in the ensemble "Ocean's 11" remake).

She was definitely easy on the eyes, both cute and fit. She was basically my age, and we'd had a few conversations about alternative music and she'd asked me to make her some book recommendations. Despite her intense beauty (she was modelling for cosmetics companies on the side), she had a very 'girl next door' feel to her. A lot of the reviewers for our movie said she was channeling a sort of Molly Ringwald vibe, although to me, she seemed far too cut for that, having gotten into tremendous shape for the movie, saying she wanted to channel the sort of Linda Hamilton "T2" vibes to play my reporter with a fitness obsession, as I'd written her character on the page. Despite her incredible physique, she was remarkably approachable and down-to-earth, always eager for a note or a thought on how to tweak a line or a reading in order to make her performance more believable.

On a Friday afternoon, Abi was on set with me, and it was the last day of shooting before a two-day break, to let the actors and most of the crew have a chance to recharge their batteries while the scenery department finished constructing a new set, a server farm where the climax of the movie was going to take place. Angela had just finished her last take for the day, and the crew was working to set up for the next shot, although it would be at least ten minutes before they were ready.

"What's your plan for the weekend?" Angela asked me as she started wiping makeup off her face, and I felt Abi poking me in the ribs. We'd talked about seeing if I could bring forth someone's subconscious thoughts to the foreground with just a little bit of work, and to see if I could keep them comfortable while I did it, and Abi clearly thought this was the moment I should do that.

"Probably just hanging around the rental for most of the weekend, although we might try and take in a beach day," I told her, as I started to slowly reach my mind out to hers, pushing her to voice whatever thought she had in her subconscious that she didn't want to voice aloud. "What about you? What are you hoping to get up to over the next few days?"

"Honestly? I was kind of hoping you'd invite me over to your place for some drinks and then fuck the shit out of me," she said as nonchalantly as if she'd been discussing the weather. "You know, I'm not quite sure why I said that."

"Is it what's been on your mind?" The key to this kind of thing was to at least keep the pretense of a conversation up and running while I brought the thoughts more and more to the forefront. Keep in mind, these thoughts were already there - I didn't make her do anything other than give voice to what ideas she had in her head. Yes, they were certainly secret thoughts, and I have no doubt she wouldn't have wanted to say them quite so openly, but again, they were her thoughts. "The idea of you and I having sex?"

"Not just that, but yeah, that's been a big part of it," she said, shaking her hair loose as she started to pluck at her costume. "I found out that you're polyamorous and I'm kind of curious what that looks like. Also, Abi said you can be something of a dom when you want to, and that's something else I've always had an interest in, but never engaged in. I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all of this."

"Well, why don't you go get out of costume, hop through a quick shower, put on some of your clothes and come out here and meet us, and we'll head back to my place, and we can see about exploring those thoughts a bit further."

"You're not bothered by them?"

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno," she said with a giggle. "I guess I was afraid maybe Abi was kidding."

"Oh, I wasn't kidding," Abi purred. "He'll use you within an inch of your being able to stand up tomorrow, if that's what you want."

Angela nodded enthusiastically. "More than anything."

"Then go get changed," Abi said to her. As Angela scooted off, Abi turned to look at me with a smile. "See? I told you. Girl's an eager little slut at heart. And you tend to bring those sorts of repressed thoughts to the surface from anyone."

"Just because I did it with you, babe, doesn't mean I do it to everyone," I said, intending to kiss Abi's cheek but she turned so our lips met as she giggled.

"Maybe 'tend' was the wrong word. You're 'capable' of bringing them out in anyone."

"Now that I would believe."

"You going to head out for the day, Mr. Turner?" one of the P. A. s asked me.

"Yeah, Kev, you're mostly just doing pickups and reactions for the rest of the day, so we're gonna check out a little bit early, and anything you need me for, we can pick up on Monday. That cool?"

"Should be fine, sir," the P. A. said before sprinting off. "Have a good weekend!"

Angela came wandering back from offstage, her stage makeup gone and replaced with more personal makeup, her costume shed, her bright red mane pulled back into a sporty ponytail that was tucked through a baseball cap with an Oakland A's logo on it that she had pulled down over some of her face. She was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized UCLA sweatshirt that nearly hung down to her knees, the sort of 'Hollywood disguise' that was en vogue at the time. She tucked her Palm Pilot into her oversized purse that dangled over one arm. "You two ready to go?" she asked us.

"Yeah, this place is dead anyway," I said with a laugh, quoting "Swingers" for the fun of it. We met up with our driver, Wesley, and he drove me, Angela and Abi back to the house they'd rented for us to stay at while the film was being shot. Angela had tried to start a conversation on the way back, but Abi had reached over and pressed a fingertip to the redhead's lips to silence her. It wasn't that long a drive anyway, and Abi certainly knew how to let tension build.

The house was nothing amazing, but it was behind a gate and up in the Hollywood Hills, so we had the place to ourselves, and we weren't going to be disturbed, which was the most important thing. Wesley let us out of the car and reminded us that nobody was on set tomorrow or the next day, but that he would be back to pick us up at 4:30 am on Monday morning for outdoor on location shooting, something I remember begrudgingly agreeing to.

We headed into the house, as Julia and Chelsea came to meet us, both of my girls throwing their arms around me, hugging and kissing me in turn, as Angela watched on a little nervously. When I pulled back from the kiss and looked over at Angela, I spoke, breaking the silence. "What kind of sexual encounter are you hoping for, Angela?" I knew she'd been stewing in her own thoughts for a while, so I figured it was time to let them out.

"Rough. Intense. I want to dominated, used, fucked within an inch of my life and sanity. I've had a safeword - Ontario - for years, but I want to feel like I might need to use it. Not pain, per se, but just... carnal, primitive sex," Angela said, licking her lips as she looked at me. "I can't believe I'm confessing all of this to you. To all of you. But the idea of your other girls watching me? Fuck that's got my panties dripping."

"So as long as I don't hear the word 'Ontario,' I can do anything I want to with you? That's what you want?" I asked her as we moved into the living room of the house.

"Yes please. Uh, sir."

I turned around from walking, placed one hand on her shoulder and shoved her down hard onto her knees in front of me, and I kid you not, I've never heard a woman moan more excitedly than that moment right there. I reached down and pulled off her cap and tossed it aside, letting her gorgeous red hair hang loose around her beautiful face. She looked up at me with eager, wanton green eyes and as I started to reach for the button on my jeans, her hands raced up faster than mine, popping them open, tugging them and my boxers down to let my cock spring free. She giggled a little bit as it slapped her in the face, and as she turned to try and kiss it, I twisted my hips, making the shaft slap one cheek then the other, which made her whimper and whine, her eyes returning to mine with a silent plea. I held still and Angela moved to press her lips against the tip of my dick and slowly slid her lips down over the first few inches.

"Go on, baby, really fuck that slut's face," Abi said to me as she moved over to stand behind Angela, both of her hands pushing on Angela's face to force her to suddenly take a lot more of my cock than I think she'd been prepared for, her cheeks puffing out suddenly, a coughing sound from her throat, her hands clenched on my hips, her eyes starting to water as she looked up at me and I finally pulled her face back, pushing against Abi's giggling shoves.

"Have something to say, Angela?" I asked her.

"Your slut wants more, sir. And thank you."

I skullfucked Angela for a good ten minutes, watching the eyeliner drip down in charcoal black tears down her cheeks, but each time I would take my cock out of her mouth, covered in spit and precum, she would smile as wide as possible and beg me for more, all the while struggling against my fist in her red hair, trying to shove her face back down onto my cock as if she refused to have it out of her mouth for any longer than necessary, slobber dripping down onto her sweatshirt. Her hands clenched around my balls and occasionally the base of my cock so she could get a slight respite and allow her to breathe. She would even giggle when she would blow a bubble with my precum as strands of it oozed down on my balls, while her cheeks caved in, trying to suck it all back in, but also delighted at making such a show of it.

"God, what a filthy whore," Julia said, reaching down to stroke Angela's hair. "I wanna keep her, Josh..."

"She's barely getting started... but I think she's hungry, baby," Chelsea whispered in my ear. "Feed her. Make her swallow it all."

My hands grabbed Angela's hair and forced her lips down to the base of my cock as my balls clenched and I poured five or six loads of hot cum against the back of Angela's throat, feeling her cough and sputter, but not pushing me away until I finally brought her head back and let her gasp in a wheezy and desperate panting, sputtering breath with an almost demented giggle in the middle of it, her eyes looking up at me with nothing but encouragement in her eyes. "Was that good, Daddy? Did your little slut suck your big fat cock like a good whore should? Will you reward her with more?"

"Fucking hell, Josh," Abi giggled. "If you aren't going to give the bitch a good dicking, I'm going to have to."

I glanced over and growled at Abi. "What's mine is mine," I said to her, watching her both gasp and clench up in excitement, recognizing that if they wanted the harder edge of me to come out, I would give it to them in full force. I glanced down and saw a large dark spot at the crotch of Angela's sweatpants, something that made me grin a little bit. I reached down and yanked her sweatshirt up and over her head, casting it aside. She had small breasts, pert and perky, and I would find out later that she'd been turned down a couple of times for auditions because of her cup size, but I told her those people were fucking idiots. They were capped with small pink nipples and dusted with light brown freckles to contrast to the pale whiteness of her skin.

She hopped up and grabbed my hand, shoving it down the front of her sweats and I could feel the swamp-like wetness just utterly drenching my fingertips as she shivered. "That's all yours, Sir," she whimpered. "It's empty and it needs you to fill it, sir."

"What is?" I asked her as my fingertips stroked her snatch.

"My little cunny, sir," she whimpered, shoving her sweatpants down to her ankles, stepping on the fabric to step out of it, having clearly not bothered to put on any underwear.

"I thought you said I was making your panties drip," I chuckled throatily, looking down to see a small square patch of red curls above her pussy.

"Silly me, sir, I forgot to wear any."

Behind her, Julia threw a couple of large pillows onto the cool stone floor, and I shoved Angela back down onto her knees before spinning her around, pushing her down onto all fours, letting her guide her hips over one of the giant pillows for a brace as I reached down and slapped her ass with a hard crack, and a wanton guttural purr of delight rolled from her hips. "I think you better give it to her before she loses her mind, Josh," Julia said to me as she crouched down to lift Angela's face up to look at her. "I kinda wanna take some Polaroids of you while you're getting fucked. That okay?"

"As long as you don't show them to anyone outside of this room? You can fucking video it for all I care," Angela whimpered. "Just get him to shove that dick in my cunt already..."

"Oh, it's coming," Chelsea laughed as she watched me get into place.

When I punched my cock inside of her pussy, I've never heard such a loud, squishy sound before, her pussy so drenched and sloppy it let a squelch through the air that couldn't help but make everyone giggle a little, except Angela, who was moaning louder than I'd ever heard a woman, practically crowing for more.

"That's it, Josh... she wanted you to fucking break her in so smash that pussy... fucking rail that shit in half... don't you dare stop fucking her slutty cunt..." Abi encouraged, her hand resting on my shoulder as Julia returned to the room with her Polaroid camera, crouching down to take a picture of Angela's face completely tormented with lust, as she was babbling.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck yes yes yes fuck it up fuck my little pussy up fucking break me in pound me like a little bitch fuck that feels so fucking good your dick in my fucking guts..."

"God, she's hot like this... it makes me want to make you fill her up with cum, like a good little cumdumpster should be..."

Abi was more than eager to see that side of me on someone else, so she kept pushing me into Angela, as if I wasn't thrusting into her hard enough, and finally, Chelsea moved to take her pants off and sat down in front of Angela, pulling the redhead's face towards her own pussy.

By the time we finished at dawn, my cum was leaking out of all three of Angela's holes, and while she'd blacked out, she had a smile on her face as joyous as Christmas morning. She never did use that safeword, and to date, she still hasn't. She isn't one of my partners, but we see her as a group once or twice a year and fuck the living daylights out of her, usually in front of her husband, who's apparently into that kind of thing. She wants to get pregnant by me, but I've told her that it's Abi she has to convince of that, not me. Those negotiations are still ongoing.

We were in Hollywood for five weeks total, and Angela spent most of the last two weeks over at our place, constantly being railed by me and my girls. You can't see the Polaroids, but they truly are a decadence the likes of which I doubt you can imagine.

As I'm sure you know, "Last of the Luddites" went on to become a moderate size hit, and Skerritt won the Oscar for Best Actor, which went on to raise awareness even more, but all that happened after I'd been out of C. A. R. P. for months. It brought in good money for the Academy, and it also lined my own coffers pretty well.

But senior year, that was when all the wheels started to come off and shit got very much out of hand. Because despite the fact that I'd told Agent Shetterly about what I'd seen, it wasn't until the first half of senior year before he started to think I might be telling the truth.

Of course, the terrorist attack probably had something to do with it...