The Tale of the Tape Ch. 05

Author's notes: I should warn you there is a non-consent scene in this story, not described in detail. Also, I'm no expert on strip clubs, sex work or organized crime. I think I know enough to tell this story but it's not a documentary. Hootin' Annies and the Chapter 9 Lounge are real places and I use the names for entertainment only. I visited each of them only briefly years ago. Apologies to their management, staff and patrons for the characterizations.

*****

Life changed considerably when my ex-husband sent our sex tape out into the world. It was an uncommon thing at the time and made me an unwilling celebrity overnight. Frank edited out any scenes with his face so he could pretend to be the innocent cheated husband while I appeared to be not just a whore but an adulterous three-way whore.

I moved into an apartment in the warehouse district while the legal process played out. Fortunately, Frank couldn't steal all of our assets so I did have some money to live on while my lawyer clawed back what he could. For privacy, I went back to my maiden name and changed my hair and style. It wasn't a perfect disguise but at least I could visit the supermarket without feeling like a spectacle.

Once situated, I set about repairing relationships with my family and friends. My parents were scandalized but of course they stood by their girl. My son and daughter were pretty upset with the unwanted attention that was brought upon them. Once I persuaded them that their father was the unidentified man on the video, that he was the one who released the embarrassing tape, they came around to my point of view.

As for Dell, the other member of the menage a trois, I thought at least he and I could spend some time together, to explore our attraction without having to sneak around. But he had a girlfriend by then and couldn't come near me. He did meet up with me to hand over the camcorder tape we made together, just the two of us, and assured me there were no additional copies floating around.

I assured him he could come over and watch it with me if he was ever at loose ends. But I wasn't going to wait around for that. Now that I was a free woman, my fantasies of having a lover were likely to become a reality. The possibilities left me breathless when I thought of them. Before I went looking for a man, though, I needed to think about my work situation.

*****

I could have continued working remotely, proofreading and editing magazine copy. But the job required me to go into the office periodically and those occasions made me increasingly uncomfortable. Nick, in particular, the layout designer whom I made out with one drunken night, pursued me aggressively without my wedding ring to hold him off. I decided to make a change and transition from editor to author.

Surrounded as my new home was by sleazy bars and strip clubs, I had the idea of writing about the women who made a living in these establishments, women now known as 'sex workers' but who had less ambiguous titles back then. I knew something like that would sell - Playboy and Penthouse were still huge publications at the time - but the audience would be largely male so I would have to make it titillating. Still, I planned to treat my subjects with respect and nuance and even sympathy. Through contacts in my employer's parent company I made a proposal and, to my happy surprise, got an offer and a generous advance from a small publishing house.

My first foray into the city's red-light districts brought me to an unlikely den of iniquity called 'Hootin' Annies'. It was a nice place, a sports bar, and you might not think anything special about it except maybe that the girls were especially friendly. It was there that I met Alexandra, a bartender who had been through the mill that devoured party girls and came out the other side intact. She knew everything there was to know about the city's underbelly and quickly became my guide.

I learned a lot from her about how young women were lured into the sex industry, virtually enslaved and then discarded when they were no longer useful. She drew upon her own experiences for insight and from her years of watching individual tragedies unfold. She had strong feelings about it, obviously, which further inspired me to do the subject justice.

I paid Alex for her time, as I paid all the people who shared their stories with me. But I think that it was my sex tape that led to the bond of trust between us. Now, in no way did the embarrassment I experienced compare with the degradations she suffered in her life. But in a small way she viewed me as a fellow victim and respected my efforts to move beyond it.

Not only was Alex my guide, she became my friend as well and taught me to enjoy life again. In her company I discovered new foods, new drinks, new music. I went to more parties and events in that year than I did during the entire time I was married to Frank. Alex introduced me to marijuana which I didn't do often but loved it when I did.

I told her about my relationship with Dell, how we bonded over pornography, how we crossed the line from friends to lovers, how I would have liked to be with him if we were closer in age. I told her about the tape that he and I made on the night of my daughter's college graduation. Alex was very interested in seeing that tape and revealed that she did some porn and had tapes of her own to share. We made plans to get together at her apartment, get high and have an old fashioned dirty movie night.

Alex liked the tape better than the one that made me famous. "It's raw, unrehearsed. I like that better than the professional look. And I see you can deepthroat. Not bad."

We got to the part where Dell was getting ready to put it in my ass for the first time ever and I looked at the camera over my shoulder and delivered the embarrassing 'It's all for you' line. "I was imitating a girl from an old porn reel. Pathetic, right?"

"No, that's hot. It makes you seem needy and submissive." Seeing my face fall she added, "That's a good thing, Lisa. Guys love it. And you're taking that dick like a pro, I have to say."

I was taking it, too, and looking good while I did, like a real porn chick. Watching it made me miss Dell more than ever and crave the feeling of his cock inside me.

My tape was only twenty-five minutes and when it was over Alex put her tape in. It had a series of vignettes like in 'Catch Her on the Thigh', the first tape Dell shared with me when he was living in our basement. Unlike those vignettes, however, Alex's partners seemed to go right for her ass. There might be a little kissing, a little oral sex, but after the third scene she showed me, an anal-only theme was emerging. Not that it was boring. Alex had a talent for making it unique and amazing every time.

"Did you, uh, specialize in the butt?" I asked.

"Yeahhh," she replied. "Movies these days are expected to have at least one anal scene and a lot of actresses don't want to do that. So I'd do cameos for them. It paid better and made me real popular."

The actor in the scene we were watching had her bent over the side of a hot tub and was putting it to her. She genuinely looked like she was enjoying it.

"When I first started seeing anal scenes in movies, old stag films" I told her, "It seemed that the girls who did that were not as attractive as the other actresses, like they had to do this freakish thing to be interesting."

"I've seen some like that," Alex agreed. "Still sexy, though."

"But then beautiful girls started doing it, girls like you, and that kind of bothered me. The freak show became real life. The more I saw it, though, the more normal it seemed."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She asked, unexpectedly changing the subject.

"Well, yeah, of course," I spluttered.

"Thank you," she replied. "I think you're beautiful too."

As I often did in conversations like these I felt awkward, like I was talking too much. I looked down into my wine cooler and fell silent.

"I have one more scene to show you," said Alex. "I think you'll like this one."

The final scene had more of an 'on location' look than the others. It took place on a beach surrounded by jungle and lit by a bonfire. Alexandra was on all fours behind another woman who was also on all fours. Alex was eating the other woman out from behind and it was hard to say who was enjoying it more. The woman looked like the typical fake-breasted porn star in contrast with Alex's slender frame. Another woman watched them from the shadows, her mouth agape with arousal.

It was curious to see my friend performing enthusiastic oral on another woman. I'd watched my share of porn and would routinely see women doing things with each other. It didn't bother me when I saw it though it didn't do a lot for me either. But I had never watched it happening while one of the participants was sitting next to me on the couch.

Without warning, a man walked onto the screen. He was visible at first only from the waist down and was wearing just the rags of pants. I got it then that these were supposed to be the survivors of a shipwreck or something. The man stepped up behind Alex and pulled her up by the waist before ramming into her from behind. The look on her face told me right where he put it, a look of confusion and deep discomfort.

"That, uh, looked like it hurt," I said.

Alex shrugged. "I was expecting it. But yeah, you're never really ready for it."

On screen, the man forced himself deeper and deeper into my friend's ass. She crouched there on her hands and feet, a look of utter concentration on her face. She said something inaudible to the girl in front of her who turned over on her back and spread her legs. By the time the man was all in, Alex's face was buried in the girl's bush again, savoring it like a medium-rare chateau briand. The girl watching from the shadows was now masturbating frantically.

"Can I ask you a question?" Alex asked.

"Sure," I replied, not tearing my eyes away from the screen.

"If I kissed you, would that be okay?"

I turned to look at her. Her eyes were big and sad-looking. "Sure. That would be okay, I guess."

I turned my head as she leaned into me and she kissed me on the cheek. She kissed me on the corner of the mouth and I sat still like a scared baby rabbit. She kissed me on the lips and I felt my mouth open slightly to let the tip of her tongue touch mine. 'Kissing is fine,' I told myself. 'People kiss all the time and it doesn't have to mean anything.'

Alex leaned back and slid a few inches closer to me. She put her arm around my shoulders and I felt myself relax against her. While we kissed, I felt her hand move up under my shirt to cup my breast. 'That's okay,' I told myself. 'You and your friend used to touch each other's boobs on sleepovers just for fun.' I pressed my breasts together to undo the front-clasp bra. Alex's hand went under the bra to graze my nipple, leaving me breathless.

We struggled like that on the couch for some time, long enough for the tape to finish and to rewind automatically. Alex reached under my skirt with both hands to begin tugging my underwear down. I was reminded of a similar situation I faced some time ago, trying to fight off Dell's roaming hands, only this time I didn't have even the pretense of a marriage to make me resist. I lifted my hips and let Alex take my panties.

I lay back and spread myself wide while Alex took her place between my thighs. I never imagined that my dry spell would be broken by a woman but this was happening and I was nervous but ready. Alex's tongue touched my lips and I could hardly believe how good it felt. I shut my eyes and abandoned myself to her attentions. She made love to me for what seemed like an hour, pausing only to let me remove my skirt and again to remove my shirt and bra.

I was completely naked when she finally pulled me to my feet. She was still wearing her t-shirt and jeans as she led me down the hallway. Her bedroom reminded me of a nightclub, all chrome and velvet and neon. But on the mirrored shelf over her dresser, instead of bottles of booze she had a row of colorful sex toys proudly displayed. I took a moment to admire her gear while she got undressed. From the top drawer of the dresser she got out a strap-on harness with a dildo already attached.

"I'm usually on top," she said, offering me the harness. "But, uh, would you mind?"

I didn't mind at all.

*****

Alexandra wouldn't take my money after that. She said she had no problem charging me for information but never for sex, and I don't mind saying that was not the only time we had sex.

I was still paying women and some men for their stories though and was quickly burning through my advance. The publisher responded very well to the updates I was sending in and offered to forward me more funds. By then I was communicating directly with the imprint's owner, Dimas Kara, which was unusual according to his executive assistant. Mr Kara's encouragement gave me a lot of confidence in what I was doing.

Rather than dip into any future profits, I made ends meet by taking jobs as a waitress in some of the strip clubs I was studying. This paid surprisingly well and gave me an excuse to hang out and to befriend people who might share their stories. As a waitress I didn't need to be young and pretty like the dancers but I did have to wear revealing outfits and to sit with customers when they paid for my time. I didn't mind this so much. I only had to be companionable while making it crystal clear that I was NOT for sale.

As I reached the end of my project there was just one more place I wanted to explore, the Chapter 9 Lounge. It was owned by a local motorcycle gang and Alexandra urged me to leave that one alone. But I felt like it would be important to meet some of the women who worked there and thought it couldn't be as bad as it sounded. They weren't a real outlaw biker gang, after all. They were just regular guys - mechanics, construction workers, tattoo artists - who sold drugs on the side and pimped their lady friends.

I took a job at the Chapter 9 and quickly realized that this gig was not like the others. I had to dress way down since the dancers there were on the rough side. They had beautiful bodies, to be sure. But it was there that I learned the term 'butter-face'. Few of them had all of their teeth. This didn't seem to bother the clientele, an aggressive group of men who had trouble keeping their hands to themselves and would fight at the drop of a hat.

I had already decided to cut my tenure there short when one of the girls, Savannah, told me about a party that sounded intriguing. One of the bar's owners bought a kilo of cocaine, fresh off the boat, and invited some of the dancers to sample it before it was cut and portioned up for sale. I didn't touch the stuff but I knew a lot of women did and that trading sex for coke was a given. I got the idea that the party might turn into an orgy which would be spectacular to put in my book. I gathered there would be more women than men so I figured I could be a fly on the wall. After work I drove Savannah to the party and helped myself to a cup of beer from the iced-down keg.

It was a small party, more laid back than I was expecting. Four members of the gang were there and seven girls. Classic rock played on the stereo while one of the gang's leaders, Raymond, scraped white powder out into long lines on a mirror and the girls took turns snorting it through short pieces of straw. I took it all in and thought of the words and phrases I would use to describe it.

When I was ready to leave I went to use the bathroom and when I got out there was something different about the house. The music was still playing but I didn't hear any voices or laughter. I went through the empty kitchen and in the living room I saw that all of the girls were gone and the four men were just sitting there with beers in their hands, looking bored.

"I guess the party's over," I said nervously.

"I guess so," Raymond replied.

"Well, I'll see you at work tomorrow," I said hopefully.

"You must not know the rule," Raymond replied.

I looked around the room. "What, uh, what rule is that?"

"Last girl to leave has to suck every dick on her way out."

Suddenly I wished I had listened to my friend's advice.

"This is just a friendly thing, right?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Sure thing. We're all friends here, aren't we, guys?" Raymond looked to his cohorts who nodded and agreed.

"Okay, well..." I walked over to Raymond and kneeled down in front of him. He didn't respond at all as I unfastened his belt and fly, just looked down at me and took a sip of his beer.

Obviously, I was self-conscious sucking his dick while his friends looked on. I was naively thinking that I could perform four blowjobs in a row without too much trouble when I heard more motorcycles arrive and my heart fell.

"I see we're just in time," I heard one of the newcomers say.

As if things weren't bad enough, as Raymond came in my mouth I looked up to see a video camera aimed at my face. Defensively acting like I was a willing participant, I smiled for the camera, a rivulet of semen trickling down my chin. After my last sex tape I had to change my name and move across the city. If this tape got out I would have to leave the state, maybe the country. That is, if I survived the night.

Raymond zipped himself up and another hard-on took his place. And as I began sucking on it, I was lifted by my legs and my shorts removed. Because yeah, it was going to be like that. Every horror story I had ever heard about being gang-raped by bikers was running through my mind as the first of many cocks was thrust into me from behind. On my knees I prayed even while I sucked and was fucked.

It was a miserable night. Don't let me downplay that. I was raped at least a dozen times and when they finally let me up my jaws ached and my pussy was raw and I was sore all over from being groped and pinched and spanked. But the ordeal was not nearly as brutal as I was afraid it would be and once I managed to dress myself Raymond told me I was free to go. With my hand on the doorknob he gave me a warning.

"Stop talking to our girls. They don't like it and we don't like it."

I thanked him unironically and got out of there as quickly as I could, never to return.

*****

I vomited when I got home and soaked in the tub for hours. Then I slept all day and all night. I spent the next couple of days eating soup and peering through the blinds like a fugitive before I got up the courage to go to the walk-in clinic. The doctor was very upset and wanted to call the police. I told him that what happened was consensual but that things just got out of hand. He didn't like this answer but I desperately wanted to avoid involving the police.

When I got home I was alarmed to see a motorcycle parked in front of my apartment. Of course they knew where I lived. My first impulse was to keep driving and hide out at Alexandra's. But they would probably find me there too and I couldn't get her mixed up in this. I decided to face my fear and pulled into the parking lot. Raymond was standing by the bike with his head bowed and hands in his pockets.

"Can I help you?" I asked him. He wouldn't look at me.

"I just want to say I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"For what you did to me," I corrected.

"Yeah, for what I did to you," he agreed. "I'm sorry."

"Is that all?" I asked impatiently. I wasn't worried about his conscience. I just wanted to go inside.

He raised his head and looked me in the eye. "I want to say that it could have been worse. A lot worse."

"I can imagine," I replied.

"The guys thought you were an informant. Some of them wanted to take care of you permanently. I talked them into giving you a warning instead."

"That was a warning?"

"You know it was."

A moment's reflection told me there was some truth in what he was saying. They could have killed me. They could have maimed me. They could have put their brand on me and made me one of their girls. I studied his wind-burned face. "Can you behave like a human being if I invite you inside?"

His face lit up. "Yeah, of course. I'm off the clock."

He looked so out of place at my little kitchen table in his stiff leather jacket and boots, his long legs and broad shoulders. I started a pot of coffee and went to get the current copy of my manuscript. I put it on the table in front of him and turned it so he could read the working title.

"There you go, Ray. Not an informant. Just a curious author."

Raymond began turning pages while I poured two cups of coffee, black for him, cream and lots of sugar for me. He continued to read while we sat and sipped.

"Well that explains it," he said. "This is pretty hot stuff, the kind of book I'd like to read when it comes out."

"It'll be hot, yeah. I don't think I'd sell many copies unless I gave the vicarious thrill of consorting with strippers. But at the same time I'm trying to get across the human toll of pleasure, how people don't choose the paths that lead them to this life. I want you to know that the girl who smiles at you and sucks your dick for twenty dollars... what a shit awful life she might go back to when you're done with her."

He considered this. "I'm not going to apologize for the way we are. But at least we don't lie about it. People hear the stories about gangs and women still seek us out. Maybe they grew up in the life. Maybe they ran out of options. Or maybe, like you, they thought they were special. I'm sorry you got caught up in it. But you knew what we were like and you stuck your nose in our business anyway."

I looked down into my empty coffee cup and nodded. "Yeah, I bear some responsibility. Doesn't make it right but I can see that, yeah."

"I'm glad to hear you say it." He pushed the manuscript back to me. "So is there anything I can do to make up for it?"

"The video tape," I blurted out. "I need you to make that tape go away."

I knew I was out of luck when his face fell. "I wish I could. It's community property. I could sell it to you. Do you have any money?"

I thought about my dwindling bank account, about the additional advance that Mr Kara had offered me, money that would come out of the profits from my sales... if I got enough sales.

"Not right now. But I can get some."

"That's fine. I'll sit on the tape for now and when you're ready to negotiate you know where to find me."

We stood and shook hands and I walked him to the door. Instead of going through it, he put his arms around me. Softly, not roughly. 'After all that, he expects me to give it up,' I thought, disgusted. Even more disgusting, my body instantly responded to his touch.

He tried to kiss me but I turned my face away. He kissed my neck instead, sending gooseflesh all the way down to my thighs. One of his hands pressed me to him and the other squeezed my ass through my pants. His cheeks were smooth and I could smell aftershave underneath his musk and sweat. Cocky bastard must have figured he could just have his way with me.

But when I thought of it, he already had his way with me. And he did have the video tape I needed. And he had that rough masculine appeal that you think is pure fiction until you come up against it, face to face. So why not get something for myself?

"Ray, I'm still sore from the other night," I whispered in his ear. "Do you mind if...?"

He broke our embrace and held my shoulders at arm's length. "Hey, uh, we don't have to do anything if you're not up to it."

I pulled him back to me. "I was going to say, do you mind if we do it in the butt?"

"In the butt?" He repeated incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"You've never done it in the butt?"

"With a skank, once," he said. "Not with a sweetie like you."

'Skank,' I thought. That was the word missing from my narrative. That would be the title of my book.

"You're in luck, Ray." I reached down and grasped the bulge of manhood in his jeans to lead him by it. "Because I'm your skank tonight."

"Hell... yeah," he growled.