Lola Lickett - Queen of Porn: Ch. 04

Gladys Dribbel sat back in her chair and looked out through the windows of her office. Despite her weight, the chair did not creak as she leaned back—the amount of money it cost, it damn well shouldn't. Her navy blue suit and crocodile leather shoes also breathed money. But she was worth it. Without her, Devlin would have gone bankrupt or been arrested years ago and he made sure she was suitably rewarded. Gladys knew he was buying her loyalty and she found she could live with it. After years working for respectable law firms—and being constantly passed over for partnerships because of her weight issues—it was odd to realise that the employer who best appreciated her talents was a womanising dickhead in the porn industry.

Gladys had a view of the parking lot. It was not an attractive view, but she liked to believe that if the Feds or the I.R.S. ever came, they'd come for Devlin first and she'd have to time to make a getaway through the back stairs. Given her size, this was a tad optimistic, but nevertheless she would park her car near the fire exit. Also, being able to see who came and went had its uses. Earlier that week, for example, that shabby private dick, Humphrey Harrison, had been to see the boss—a dumb move on Devlin's part, thought Gladys. The whole point of hiring a private detective was that nobody knew you'd hired one. Still, that was Devlin, showing off even when he was trying to be discreet.

There was a knock on the door.

'Come in,' said Gladys, her face still turned towards the window.

It was Dolores.

'Gladys, do you have a minute?'

'Of course. Take a seat.'

Dolores closed the door and went to sit on one of the chairs on the other side of Gladys's desk. There was a loud creak as she sat down and Gladys had to work to keep her expression neutral. Ironically, fat people disgusted her.

'So how can I help?' said Gladys.

Dolores hated the way she always said that. Gladys was only out to help herself. Dolores coughed to get the resentment out of her voice.

'This rumour about the fluff girl with HIV,' she said. 'You said you'd heard it from Roger Ramrod?'

'No,' said Gladys. 'I said I'd heard there was a rumour about an actor who saw a medical file on a chair.'

'But an actor with a moustache and mullet?'

'That's what I was told, yes.'

'Who told you?'

'Is this a cross examination, Dolores?'

'No.'

'Then what is going on?'

'Nothing. But you said there was a rumour and I'm just asking where you heard it?'

'Our priority is to establish whether or not there is any truth to it, wouldn't you say? We can't have someone running around with HIV, can we?'

'No, of course not.'

'So did you check the files?'

Gladys looked at Dolores with an expression that was amiable, but there was steel in the small eyes. Dolores found herself wondering what Gladys would do if she caught her in a lie. Had Gladys been the one to find the file on the chair? Was she staging this as a test to see if it was her or Phyllis who had done it?

There was a knock and Phyllis stuck her head round the door.

'Could you give us a moment, Phyllis?' said Gladys.

'This is urgent,' said Phyllis. 'There is a file missing; a fluff girl's medical file.'

'Whose?'

'Shirley Goober.'

Dolores was glad she was seated or she would have collapsed. As it was, her formidable guts twisted into knots.

'Shirley Goober,' said Gladys, tapping the keys on her computer. 'Here we go: Age 20. Joined the studio six months ago. Voted runner-up in the Sex Cat Club's annual blow-job competition. Dreams of winning.'

'HIV will put the brakes on that,' said Phyllis.

'Motive to steal a medical file though, wouldn't you say?'

'Pretty dumb motive.'

'Well, we're not dealing with a PhD graduate, are we? What do you think, Dolores?'

Dolores managed to shrug and make some kind of reply. Then she excused herself and went to visit the ladies room where she locked herself in a cubicle and surrendered to another gut-ripping bowel movement. A cockroach that had been hiding under the rim of the toilet bowl experienced Armageddon and after being battered and thrown about for what felt like eternity, it was flushed to a place where it never saw daylight again.

In Studio 69, Cyrus watched footage on the monitor while the lighting guy replaced a dead bulb in a spotlight. The other crew members busied themselves with their equipment. In the middle of them, Shirley lounged naked on the bed, swigging water and tapping her smart-phone. Occasionally, semen ran out of her and down her thigh and she would wipe it away with a towel she half lay on without taking her eyes from the little screen. Had she been lying on the bed in her clothes, the men would have glared at her for goofing off while they worked, but being naked seemed to give her permission to lounge around. It didn't even feel like goofing off. Lounging around is what naked girls do.

'Cyrus?' said Shirley. 'Do you think I could be an actress?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because you have no tits,' said Cyrus.

'But some guys like that. And I'd be perfect for the schoolgirl roles.'

'Shirley, I'd hire you tomorrow, but it's not up to me. If you're serious, you need to fuck someone higher up the food chain.'

'You mean, like Devlin?'

'For example.'

There was a sudden bright light and both Shirley and Cyrus shielded their eyes. 'Sorry!' called out the lighting guy and pointed the spotlight somewhere else. Cyrus went back to staring at the monitor making mental notes and Shirley's phoned buzzed. There was a message and she tapped it open. It said: 'Come to the office immediately. Gladys Dribbel.'

Shirley frowned.

What did Gladys want with her? Then it occurred to her that someone using Gladys's account might be sending her a message. Someone who needed to be discreet. Someone like the owner of this studio. Shirley smiled and tapped out, 'On my way.' She had just pressed SEND when a woman's shriek nearly burst an eardrum.

'Zee-rus! What is THAT?'

Shirley looked up to see a quivering forefinger with a blood-red lacquered fingernail pointing right at her. Behind the forefinger stood Lola in her dragon gown and her black hair seemed to crackle in fury. It was time to go.

'All right, Lola. Calm down,' said Cyrus as Shirley went to the pile of her clothes.

'I will not calm down!' cried Lola, throwing her hands in the air. 'How dare this pimple-chested nobody touch my bed! I refuse to be fucked on it!'

'Lola—'

'I come here without even being fetched and what do I find? A Barbie doll using MY bed for a fuck party!'

'This is a porn film studio,' said Cyrus. 'What do you expect?'

'I expect ... professionalism.'

Shirley had finished dressing and she stepped up to Cyrus, pointing to her phone.

'Cyrus, I have to—'

'How dare you talk when I'm talking!' shrieked Lola. 'Get out! Get your skinny bones out of my studio! Go! Vamonos! I never want to see you again!'

Shirley turned and almost ran out. Cyrus watched her close the door behind her. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. Lola looked over at the bed.

'Change it!' she said. 'And get that towel out of my sight! I feel pregnant just looking at it!'

'Lola—'

'And where's that prick I'm supposed to fuck?'

'He's getting a cup of tea.'

'Tea? TEA? He should be here!'

'Lola, how many times has Roger had to wait for you?'

'He's the man! He's supposed to wait for me!'

Thankfully, Roger chose that moment to enter. He wandered in, hands in the pockets of his white bathrobe and seeming to be lost in his own thoughts.

'Okay, crew!' called out Cyrus, hoping to end the argument. 'Positions, everyone! We'll be filming in five!'

'Not until you change the bed,' said Lola.

'Lola, if we change the sheets, the film won't match the earlier footage.'

'I didn't say change the sheets. I said change the bed.'

'Change the whole bed?'

'You understand English? This is good.'

'Forget it! We're not changing the damn bed, Lola. We're filming in five and that's final.'

'Five what?' said Roger.

There was a pause. Cyrus and Lola exchanged a glance.

'Five minutes,' said Cyrus.

'Oh,' said Roger. 'Oh yeah. So it's not code for something?'

'No, Roger.'

'Oh.'

'Maybe the great actor needs more than five minutes to find his "motivacion"?' said Lola, looking pointedly at Roger's groin area.

In response, Roger shrugged off his bathrobe. His cock was hanging downwards, but already sizable. Roger took it in his hand and it began to grow and stiffen as he waggled it from side to side. He smiled.

'Pretty impressive, considering what I've gone through,' he said.

Lola opened her mouth, but Cyrus said quickly, 'I'm sure Lola didn't mean any harm.'

'I'm not talking about Lola,' said Roger. 'I'm talking about Dolores.'

'Dolores? From the office?'

'She was here earlier, boss,' said the cameraman. 'I saw her talking to Roger while we were ... you know.'

Cyrus went pale.

'Shit! What did she want?' he said.

'She was asking about a medical file,' said Roger, still waggling his penis. 'Apparently, someone here has the AIDS virus.'

His cock was now fully erect. Roger looked up and saw everyone staring at him, their faces pale, their mouths open. He smiled, raised an eyebrow, and lightly touched what he thought was the reason for their astonishment.

'Hey,' said Roger. 'I'm the man.'

Dolores sat at her desk and stared at her computer screen without seeing a thing. She couldn't figure out if she was out of trouble or deeper into it. Okay, Shirley Goober was now the subject of the inquiry and that had been the original idea, but the missing file was troubling. If it were missing. Dolores remembered taking the HIV page out of the file and putting it back where it belonged and she was pretty sure she had put Shirley's file back in the cabinet. 99% sure. But it had been the end of the day, Dolores had been thinking about food and she'd had a bunch of identical files under her arm. It was just possible that she had put the wrong file back. There were a bunch of files on her desk right now, it might feasibly be there. Dolores went through them. No, it wasn't. These weren't even medical files, they were actor profiles—although they were in the same brown folders. Devlin didn't like spending money on decent office supplies, the cheap bastard. Dolores considered going down to the archive room to double check when there was a rap on the door and Shirley Goober bounced in.

'Hello, Dolores!' she said, brightly. 'I'm here to see Devlin.'

'Do you have an appointment?' said Dolores.

'Don't need one. He wants to see me.'

'That's a coincidence.'

Shirley's brightness went a shade dimmer.

'What do you mean a coincidence?' she said.

'Because Gladys wants to see you as well. Didn't she send you a message?'

Shirley checked her phone, more for show than because she had any doubt. Fantasies of being a celebrated actress and walking over Lola Lickett's face in a pair of spiked heels evaporated even as she tapped the screen. Her light had fully dimmed, her hair hung in her face and she felt like crying. She cleared her throat and tried to fake briskness.

'So she has,' said Shirley.

'Then I suggest you look for her in her office,' said Dolores. 'It's on the other side of the building.'

'What's it about?'

'I'm sure she'll tell you.'

Shirley gave a small nod and turned to go.

'One last thing, Shirley.'

The girl turned back and Dolores made sure she had eye contact.

'Mr. Carter calls me Dolores. You don't. Are we clear?'

Shirley swallowed and gave a nod. She left the room, her bounce gone, and Dolores turned back to her computer screen. She had a warm, pleasant feeling in her body and she found to her delight that she was now able to concentrate on her work. A few minutes ago, she had been asking herself: Was this whole file business worth all the stress just to step on a young girl? What a stupid question, thought Dolores as she started going through her mailbox. Of course it was worth it!

Lola was screaming abuse and this time Cyrus was standing right by her, along with the camera crew. They surrounded Roger who stood naked and held his hands over his privates. Despite the muscular body, he cowered like a bullied child.

'Can't you let me put on my bathrobe at least?' he said.

'When you give me an answer!' cried Lola. 'Who has AIDS virus?'

'I don't remember.'

'How can you not remember something like that?' said the cameraman.

'Well, after she told me I didn't have it, I wasn't really listening,' said Roger.

The men groaned and Lola went purple in the face.

'Roger,' said Cyrus, 'you take Narcissism to new heights.'

'Thank you.'

'That wasn't a compliment!'

'Oh.'

'What did Dolores say? Think, man!'

Roger tried on his thinking face. It made Cyrus think of his daughter when she was a baby and taking a shit in her diaper. Eventually, Roger pushed something out.

'She said it wasn't me,' he said.

'You say that already!' shrieked Lola, and if she had started hitting him, none of the men would have tried to stop her.

'And she said it wasn't her.'

'Well, that's hardly—' began the cameraman, when Cyrus shushed him.

'Come on, Roger,' he said. 'What else?'

Roger's face went red. Cyrus took a half step back.

'And she said it wasn't any of the men,' he said finally.

There was a collective sigh of relief. Then, almost as one man, they all looked towards Lola. She stared, reading their faces.

'Is you crazy?' she cried. 'I no have virus!'

'It isn't one of the men,' said Cyrus. 'That just leaves you.'

'And the fluff!'

Cyrus turned to Roger.

'Did Dolores say it was Shirley?' he said.

'No,' said Roger. 'Definitely not.'

'Then that still leaves you,' said Cyrus, turning back to Lola.

Lola drew herself up to her full height—which in heels was not unimpressive—and looked down at the shorter man with withering contempt. But Cyrus folded his arms, lifted his chin and stared right back. It dawned on Lola that he actually thought he could win this fight and she suspected he might be right. She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

'H'okay,' she said. 'We go to office. I show you papers. And then we all go talk to the fat bitch who start this problem. De cuerdo?'

Cyrus nodded.

'Fair enough,' he said.