TAJ
It was five in the morning when I got home. I slowly pushed the key Leandra gave me into the lock of the front door, careful not to wake her. I twisted until the lock clicked open. I grimaced to the sound of the rusty hinges screaming to my advance. The house was dark and quiet. I set my gym bag in one of the love seats that sat against the wall facing the entertainment center. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Leandra was asleep, but not soundly with all the snoring she was doing. It was one out of many things I found adorable about her.
I was so tired I thought I was going to drop dead right there in the hallway on my way to the bathroom. My body was sticky with sweat and cum. All I wanted to do was peel myself out of my gray sweats and T-shirt and scrub my skin clean. But in my line of work, could I ever be completely clean? I switched the bathroom light on, brushed back the plastic, flower-printed shower curtain and flipped on the faucet. The mere reverberation of the water had already started to relax me. I peeled the sweats off like they were scaly layers of skin. I grimaced to the faint scent of someone’s cum that was permeating from my chest. I would have doused my clothes in kerosene if I could, but buried them deep in the rose-pink, wicker hamper. I lifted the lid on the toilet and plopped down on the porcelain throne. I pointed my spit-sticky dick down in the commode and pissed. Airy farts escaped my asshole as I pissed. I wanted to shit, but it wouldn’t come no matter how hard I squeezed and strained. My shit was backed up. My eyes watered as I struggled to push out the waste. “Fuuuuuck,” I swore until I felt myself pushing it out of my asshole. The shit plopped into the pissy toilet water. “Damn, my asshole is on fire.” My eyes were bloodshot, every muscle in my body ached for relaxation. I wiped, and then flushed down the shit, piss and paper. Felt like I had been holding that log in all day. My body was working against me as I placed one leg and then the other into the tub. The warm shower water pelted my sore limbs. I ran the bar of soap along my arms and chest; lather trickled into my nest of pubes as I scrubbed my dick and balls clean of spit and ass. “Fifteen. Fifteen fucking hours on the set.” I made sure every arm, leg, finger, foot and toe was clean from the filth of a long day. I killed the shower before I grabbed a towel to dry off. My feet were killing me. I slipped in quiet under the covers so not to wake Leandra, but I failed.
“Hey, baby, you just getting home?” Leandra asked.
“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t call you.”
“It’s okay. How did the photo shoot go?”
I kissed her softly behind her left ear before I dropped a lie like poison into it. “One of the models was late. This fashion designer is a bitch on wheels. I came this close to walking off the set today.”
“You kept your cool, though, right?”
“Um . . . yeah. It’s a big account. I didn’t storm off like some spoiled brat. Boo, at this point, I simply want to finish this project up and move on to something else. I’m over it, to tell you the truth.”
“You hungry? You want me to make you some breakfast?” Leandra rubbed sleep out of her eyes.
“That’s sweet of you, baby, but I’m not hungry. Glad I finally made it home to my lady.” I took Leandra into my arms, spooning her. My dick began to go hard when it grazed against her booty. “How was your day?” I asked, as I slid my hands under her all size-fits-all T-shirt with a teddy bear on the front.
“It was okay. I had a client come over and I did her hair, but other than that, it was pretty quiet.” I played with Leandra’s nipples knowing how crazy horny that drives her. Wasn’t long before she began moaning to my advances. I felt her backing her ass up against my twitching dick. I slipped her panties down off her ass, around her plump thighs. Leandra placed her hand on top of mine that massaged her breasts. I reached over to find that her pussy was sopping wet.
“Already, you worked up, huh?” I asked.
“I’m always ready. You know what you do to me.”
I spat on my hand, slathered my dick, circled her knobs easy, pinching them between my fingers. Leandra turned to face me. Her lips were supple against mine. Her tongue tasted of strawberries. “Damn, baby, you turn me on,” I whispered. Leandra slid on top of me, her breasts warm against my chest as we kissed. She maneuvered her body until my dick slipped like a hot secret inside her.
Leandra whimpered to the sensation of me plowing her sweet spot. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me.”
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” Leandra moaned.
“What?”
“Yours. This pussy’s yours.”
I don’t know what happened, but as soon as I slapped Leandra’s right ass cheek, the images of naked men began to dance in my head again. I tried to extinguish the images free from my mind by shutting my eyes, but that only made them more acute. It was Kurt Kameron this time—this porn actor wannabe Jimi discovered on Craigslist of all places. He has the dick to get the job done, but he leaves much to be desired in the looks department. First time I laid eyes on him, I thought he still needed to do some more work on his body if he really wanted to make it in the business.
I prayed that my dick wouldn’t soften in the middle of fucking Leandra as I thought of Kurt sucking me off.
“Baby, are you okay?” Leandra asked.
“Yeah, why, what’s up?”
“You just seem a little distant, that’s all.”
“No, I’m right here with you, baby.” Leandra tightened her pussy around my dick yet I couldn’t shake the images of Kurt blowing me. I only hoped that I wouldn’t call his name out instead of Leandra’s. Why the hell am I thinking about him and now of all times? It was one thing to be in this frame of mind on set, because it’s work, but to bring this shit home with me? Leandra was putting it on me, which was understandable. The last time we’d had sex, was the night before the dinner with Emjay and Shariece. I focused on Leandra, groping her ass as she fucked me.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” Leandra cried out, and within seconds, we both came to a mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm. She collapsed on top of me, my dick still fat and hard inside of her. I braced myself as she rolled off of me.
“Damn, we haven’t done that in a while,” Leandra said.
“I know. With this project and you getting back on your feet after the accident, it’s been a hot minute.”
Leandra placed her hand on her brow from exhaustion. “You okay, you seemed like you were in deep thought somewhere.”
“Sorry, Lee. I’m just stressed out with this project, that’s all.”
“You know what you need?”
“What?”
“A nice big breakfast. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I’m starving. I betcha they didn’t feed ya’ll nothing but junk food. You need you a meal of something to eat, not snacks.”
“True. Maybe some bacon and eggs will get my mind off work.”
“That’s the spirit.” Leandra got up and grabbed her robe from a white chair that was sitting on the other side of the bedside table. “How does, pancakes, eggs, grits and ham steak sound?”
“That’s fine, pumpkin bear, whatever you want.” The last thing my mind was on was food, but Leandra insisted.
“You just rest up while I go cook something up. It won’t take me long. You need to get something in you other than honey buns.”
I lay there thinking about the images I was having of Kurt and why I couldn’t turn that shit off when I walked in the door. There was no way I was ready to tell Leandra what was really going on, that I wasn’t a fashion photographer, but an actor in the porn industry—if you can call fake moans and groans acting.
With all the mess with Emjay, Shariece and the accident, the last thing she needed was to find out that I do porn for a living.
* * *
Slinging greasy pizza at Sbarro in the mall was the last job I had and lost after getting fired for coming to work late too many times. The last thing I wanted was to stand in another unemployment line, or sit around on my laptop applying for one piece-of-shit job after the next only to get emails telling me that the job had been given to a more qualified applicant. I applied for everything from bank teller to delivering phone books, spending all day in a Barnes & Noble Café typing up cover letters and honing my resume, until I developed carpal tunnel. I was hopeless about finding work until I decided to see what was up in the job section of Craigslist. Most of them were bullshit fakes, or jobs that didn’t lead to much of nothing. Last year, I went to check out this job in Kerry Forrest, which was thirty minutes across town. My ride was in the shop, so I had to catch the bus, something I’m not used to doing. The job was as a part-time security guard at Stein Mart. I get there and they tell me that the position had been filled. I lost my shit.
“Well, someone here told me that the position was still available and that I can come in and talk to a manager,” I’d said to this old, short woman with short, curly, brunette hair, wearing wire-frame glasses that hung off the end of her big-ass nose. I was pouring with sweat by the time I got to the store as it was five store blocks from where the bus dropped me. My shirt and everything was soiled with sweat. “Sir, who told you that—”
“I don’t know, some lady. I didn’t get her name.” I didn’t even let the old bitch finish her question. She went on and on about how sorry she was for the inconvenience, but I think she was lying about the position being filled. When I told her about the security job ad, she looked me up and down like I was the filthiest thing that walked through their door, like I had some nerve for walking into their pricey-ass store inquiring about a job. I wanted to curse her out, but I kept my cool and hauled my ass out of there. But I didn’t let my new clothes go to waste. I applied to every place after Stein Mart: Applebee’s, Dollar Tree, Old Navy, Shoe Station, Books-A-Million. I needed a j-o-b bad. My rent was due and I was already two car notes behind on my TrailBlazer. The thought of being out on the street was freaking the fuck out of me. My back was officially against the wall. Funny what you will do when you have no money, when you stand to lose everything.
After I cooled my wing tips from taking that wild goose chase out to Kerry Forrest, I went back to Craigslist to check out the job site. I was hard up and I wasn’t about to lose my car. Getting kicked out of my roach motel of an apartment wouldn’t have been such a loss. I would apply for twenty jobs a day, spending hours on my laptop sometimes until 3 a.m. There was one ad I came across in the TV/film/video section of Craigslist. This new production company was looking for local talent, actors and extras for some film and they would pay thirty dollars an hour. Jimi Bryan Productions was what it was called. The shit seemed fishy to me, but after weeks of looking for work, I was down for anything. It was located on the East Side of town, nowhere near as far as Stein Mart. When I called to see if the job was still available, this lady answered. Well, she sounded more like a sorority chick slash Valley girl. I asked if I could speak with Jimi.
“Mr. Bryan is in auditions at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
“I saw the ad on Craigslist about the acting job, and I wanted to stop by and talk to him about auditioning.”
She informed me that this Jimi guy was still looking for actors and that I should come in with a headshot and a bio. The only recent picture I had of myself was the one nigga, Deshawn took of me at a block party. It was the only pic I could get a hold of on such short notice. I didn’t bother with dress attire for this one, being that it was an audition. I wore jeans and a muscle T-shirt to show off my muscles. People in the movie business like that kind of shit. I asked for Valley girl’s name in case this guy, Jimi, wanted to pull that same shit that old wench at Stein Mart had pulled.
“My name’s Cherri,” she said.
“That’s nice, like the fruit?” I asked.
“Yes, but spelled with an ‘I’ instead of a ‘Y.’”
“All right, Cherri. I’ll see you in a few.”
I did an Internet search for Jimi Bryan Productions, but nothing came up. That’s when a red flag went up in my head. I had a bad feeling, but wanted to see what was up anyway. I followed the directions to the letter that led me way out on North Monroe near I-10 that led me to this old building that used to be Skate-in East, this rink I used to go to when I was a kid. There were four large windows that were pitch-black with tint. You couldn’t see anything inside from the parking lot.
“I don’t know about this shit,” I said to myself, but I figured thirty dollars an hour was worth it. When I walked through the double-glass tinted doors, a hint of feet and Fritos filled my senses. Thumbtacked along the wall were posters of some of the most famous movies ever made: Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Jaws, E.T., Scarface, Blade Runner, all of my favorite movies. My doubts had waned when I realized that this place was on the up and up.
This white girl with long, black hair pulled back high in a ponytail was sitting at a desk at the end of the hall. That must be Cherri. She looked as fine as she sounded on the phone looking like she wanted to be anywhere but in a place that smelled like toe jam and Tostito chips.
“How you doin’? Are you Cherri?”
“Yes,” she said, gawking at me suspiciously, chewing her gum like a cow munching on field grass.
“What’s up, shorty? I’m Taj Bowman. We spoke on the phone about the audition.”
“Hello. Mr. Bryan is in with an actor. Have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
I sat in one of the seven pleather black chairs that aligned the wall. Cherri had to be in her early twenties. Why was someone as cute as her working as a receptionist? She had the face that warranted being on the cover of Essence, Ebony, Jet magazine. I studied the movie posters wishing they were hanging on the walls back at my apartment, especially the Scarface poster. Those damn things are hard to find. Cherri kept looking at me, but would look away when I caught her eye. Don’t front. You know you want some.
I waited near an hour before Cherri told me that it was cool to go into Jimi’s office. This white guy with dark, wavy hair came out of the office wearing a faded, red Dr. Pepper T-shirt and jeans. He cut me this look like I didn’t stand a chance. Had anyone told me I would be having sex for money, I would have popped them in the mouth.
“Mr. Bryan will see you now,” she said, chewing on that same piece of gum like it would be the last piece she would ever have. I got something for you to chew on, I thought to myself.
Jimi Bryan Productions was emblazoned on a gold-plated tag screwed on the door. When I walked in, a white guy with short, curly, sandy-blond hair, wearing glasses was sitting on a sofa facing a desk with shelves that housed hundreds, hell, probably thousands of DVDs. They were not movies that could be seen in a theater, not anymore anyway, but the kind you could only find in adult video stores. I came close to turning around and walking out of the office, but the thought of the repo man coming at 3 a.m. to take my TrailBlazer, kept my feet planted in Jimi’s office.
“Hey, you must be Taj.” Jimi stood up from the black leather couch to shake my hand. His felt cold, kind of clammy.
“Hey, how you doin’? I’m here about the ad I saw on Craigslist.” As soon as I had seen all the porn, I knew what kind of business Jimi was running.
“Great. Did you bring a headshot?”
“Um . . . all I could get ahold of was this pic my friend took.” I handed it to him. There wasn’t any time to have anything professional made up. Didn’t know I was going to be coming out somewhere like this.” I could feel Jimi’s eyes scanning my body, over every inch of me, zeroing in on my dick.
Jimi glanced at the picture for all of two seconds before he switched his glance back to me like I was a slab of meat.
“It’s not what I’m used to, but a headshot is a headshot, right?” A set of butter-yellow teeth were exposed when he smiled. “Have a seat, Taj. Tell me a little about yourself.”
“Not much to tell. I came to Tallahassee by way of Celebration, Florida when I was eighteen. I’ve worked a few odd-and-end jobs ever since, staying on this grind, you know?”
“You a college boy?”
“I was taking some classes at the community college, but I had to drop out because I couldn’t afford it, so I’m trying to save up some money to go back.”
“That’s great. What are you studying?”
Damn, this dude was nosey as hell. All up in a black man’s business. I had to pull something out of my ass and quick.
“Graphic design,” I lied.
“Oh, that’s cool. I need someone to get my website up and running, so I may be in need of your . . . services.” I felt Jimi’s devil-blue eyeballs on my crotch again like it was a birthday gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap. “So, have you done any acting?”
“I played Santa Claus in my third-grade Christmas play. Does that count?”
Jimi laughed, branding those cornbread-yellow teeth of his. “Well, let me give you a little information on what I do here.” Jimi sauntered across the office behind his desk. “Just so there are no misunderstandings, this . . . is what I do.” He held his arms out like a model from The Price is Right in front of the shelves of porn movies as if they were a washer and dryer and a new car sitting idle behind him. “GAY ADULT ENTERTAINMENT!” he announced.
“Porn,” I said.
“Shhh, we don’t like to use the p-word around here. Adult entertainment is more of a sophisticated term.”
“Okay, I feel you.”
“Now before I go on, because I don’t want to waste your time or mine, would you have a problem working in this industry?”
“No, not at all.”
“You sure? Because people get into this, work on one film and decide that it’s not for them, so I need you to be absolutely sure that this is the right place for you.”
“Call me Jimi,” he interrupted.
“I’m about to get evicted out of my apartment, and my car is about to get repossessed. I’ve applied for job after job, and they either tell me that the position has been filled or I don’t hear back from anybody. Unemployment only pays me ninety-five dollars a week. I’m pretty much eating Ramen for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’m an ass hair away from being on the streets.” I hadn’t planned on telling my sob story to Jimi, but that shit was the t-r-u truth.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. My next question is, have you ever done adult movies?”
“No. Never thought about it, really.”
“Taj, here I run a clean operation. My actors go through mandatory drug testing for STDs and drugs. If you test positive for either, you can’t work. I can’t hire you. When was the last time you were tested for STDs?”
“It’s been about a year ago.”
“Would you have a problem taking a test for STDs?”
“I’m pretty clean, so no, not at all.” I smoked weed every now and then, but out of fear of not getting the gig, I kept my mouth shut on that one.
“Now my next question is, do you have issues with homosexual men at all?”
I knew exactly the direction this was going in. “No. I’ve got gay cousins, so I’m cool.”
The only person in my family that I know is gay for sure is my cousin, Darnell. I don’t think anyone in the family knew until my aunt found some explicit shit of his he had put on the Internet. After that, Darnell’s secret was front and center and the talk of Celebration. And being that my mama doesn’t get along with my Aunt Layla, Aunt Tilly and Uncle Marcus, all had a field day with the news. When Uncle Marcus called Darnell a faggot at a Christmas gathering last year, a fight broke out that ended with Darnell holding a steak knife to Uncle Marcus’s throat. Not another word was said about Darnell being gay after that. At least not from Uncle Marcus anyway. I’m the only one in the family he’s cool with.
“Great, because I not only do straight films here, but I also do gay films, and I’m casting right now for my next film, Hot Cops with Hard Cocks, and you would be perfect for the role of Digger Hardman. Think you’re up for it?”
It took everything in me to keep from laughing my ass off at the name Jimi came up with. “I think I can handle it.”
“Good,” Jimi smiled, “that’s what I like to hear. Now, let me see what you’re working with.”
“What?”
“Your cock size, let’s see it.”
“Um . . .”
“Look, Taj, I need to see what you’re working with. I can’t have someone with baby dick on my set; now let’s see the goods.”
I stood up and reluctantly unfastened my jeans. Jimi stood in front of his shelves of porn, waiting with baited breath to see my dick. I reached inside my briefs and eased it out. “Christ, man, you got a battering ram between your legs.” I looked off embarrassed standing in the middle of this guy’s office with my dip stick hanging out. “Do you jack off?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, masturbate?”
“We all do.”
“You shoot big loads?”
Jimi was on a new level of none of your damn business, which was what I started to tell him. “I guess; I don’t know. I never really noticed how much I squirt when I nut.”
“Stroke your dick for me?”
“I’m kidding.” Jimi laughed out loud, but I didn’t think that shit was funny. “Do you work out? Lift your shirt up for me.”
“Six days a week.”
“And it shows, my friend, it shows.” This guy was coming off like a total damn grease ball.
“All right, you got the job.”
“I got the job?”
“Can you come in tomorrow morning? The guy that came in before you is going to be playing a robber, and in the scene I’ve set up for you guys is where you unleash your own brand of justice, if you know what I mean.”
“You talking about the Italian-looking guy that just left?”
“Yes, his name is Vance Rich. He’s playing a guy by the name of Kurt Kameron. I’ve worked with him before, back when I was doing films in Miami. He’s a huge power bottom and loves black cock. You two are going to be great. So tomorrow morning, eight a.m. Sharp. Do not be late. I can’t stand tardiness.”
“So how much are you paying for this?”
“I pay a grand for two hours and it’s all under the table. I think it’s easier that way for everyone.”
“That’s cool. It beats the hell out of having to deal with taxes and IRS bullshit.”
“I like you, Taj. You and I are going to get along real good,” he said, slapping me on the back, as we headed toward the door. “So come by tomorrow so my nurse can give you a piss test and take blood, and then we can get rolling.”
“I was wondering if I could ask you a small favor.”
“Sure.”
“Is it possible that I could get a small advance until we start filming?”
Jimi looked at me like he was trying to find the answer to my question. “Say no more.” Jimi took out his wallet that was chock-full of crisp one hundred-dollar bills. He counted out eight and handed me the money.
“I just need something to cover my rent this month. I owe you one.”
“Forget about it. You’re part of the team now.” When I took the money, I felt like I had just taken cash from the Devil himself.
“I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Jimi said.
Cherri was sitting at the desk typing on the computer pretending to look busy. By the time we were done, three more losers sat in the hall with their headshots. I smiled at them and thought to myself, bunch of chumps. Little did I know that I was going to be the one looking like the chump when it was all said and done.