Who: Henry Townshend and Revy Lee When: Friday, 9/4/15, Noon Where: Low Budget Porn Studio What: A tour Rating/Warning: Uh, the setting itself and Revy's mouth Status: Complete when posted
Henry needed an on-line presence, if he was ever going to make it on his own. He needed his own website where he could showcase his work and reel in future potential clients. He needed to be visable if he ever wanted to do anything other than take family photos to be used for annual holiday cards.
Not that there was anything wrong with family portraits. They had their purpose and their charm, but it wasn’t what Henry wanted to be known for. He had found a local on-line community to start getting himself out there, as it where. He hadn’t really expected the first nibble to be someone declaring that porn stars needed their pictures taken.
But Henry wasn’t one to judge. Porn stars were still actors and just like Henry, they needed their work showcased, and who was Henry to deny them that? It was definitely different than the run of the mill family portraits and that was what he wanted.
He arrived at the address his contact on the network had provided earlier that week. The girl hadn’t been kidding. It was a shady as fuck looking warehouse and yes, there was the blowup doll hanging out front by the door, just casually blowing in the wind like any regular storefront sign.
This was definitely looking to be one of the most unique jobs he’d taken in recent years and he hadn’t even gone inside yet. Henry adjusted the strap to his camera bag on his shoulder as he approached the door. He had taken the knob in hand when he realized he hadn’t gotten his contact’s name, or even a description of her. That was a newbie mistake and Henry cursed himself for it. He was suddenly glad he’d decided to take the insurance out on his equipment, though if anyone inside decided it was a good idea to relieve Henry of his equipment, they were going to get one hell of a fight.
He tightened his grip on the bag strap and with his other hand reached out and knocked.
Man, this company was a hot fucking mess sometimes and everyone, for the most part, was flakey and unreliable. Midna had essentially taken reigns on Rear End operations (poor fucking thing) and Revy, while originally hired to sit in an ‘office’ (it was an old storage closet) and put together cheaply shot pornos with a hint of stupid plot, she’d taken on more responsibilities than she ideally liked. More than what she was being paid for, too, and that’s when she realized that, fuck, she’d hit the stride of adulthood responsibilities in her own way.
Fuck my life.
Whoever knocked on the door caused a brow to fly high. In her mouth was a burning Marlboro Red, in her hand was a green glass bottle of Heineken, and she mumbled a couple of vulgarities under her breath before unlatching the door and opening it.
It took her a minute, but… “Oh, shit. Henry, right?” The kid with the camera, right, right. Now it was all coming to Revy, why the fuck she made some kind of an appointment around this time with some of the people here but she was so fucking disorganized sometimes she forgot to write down for what. “Revy. Come inside. You want a beer? A smoke?”
At first Henry thought maybe he’d been stood up, or sent on some kind of half-assed wild goose chase. Dragged all the way down to this scummy part of the county he didn’t even know existed and made to stand below a blow-up doll knocking on a door like an idiot. Figures. He should have gotten the contact’s name. He should have told her to meet him somewhere else. Maybe the plaza near where he worked. He was just so thrilled to be getting work he’d jumped at the chance and now he was being made to look like an ass for it. He wondered how long it would be before pictures started floating around that network of him and the stupid doll. Well, if he did, maybe he’d be lucky and be able to pick apart the composition.
Henry was about to turn and walk away when the door opened, surprising him. He stared at the woman standing there as she stared at him. Then the look of realization hit the woman straight between the eyes.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Henry said with a nod. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder again. “Its, uh, nice to meet you, Revy.” He wondered if that was her real name or if that was the name she used when editing porn together. He shrugged at her offer as he stepped inside, “I don’t smoke, but yeah...I could take a beer, thanks.”
Revy always had beer ready on hand. And smokes, always smokes, no one wanted to fucking even see this particular woman on a cigarette withdrawal. And it was the kind of industry that was fairly laid back with her vices; though the Big Guys that ran it would prefer she not smoke in doors, but they were too chicken shit to try to reinforce the rule on her. Everyone knew her record, the time spent in prison - they opted to stay the hell back, for the most part.
Nothing was filming as she led him through the building, but on plush sofas and beanbags in what seemed to be like the casual ‘gathering’ area were a few of the ‘stars,’ dolled up and ready for their close up. Henry would be introduced to them later - right now she ushered him into her ‘office,’ which was sorta cramped for even two people.
“Take a seat, got some paperwork for you to sign,” she motioned, pausing to exhale some tobacco smoke, before she opened the mini fridge and grabbed a beer. Cap opened, the bottle hissed, and she passed it over. “Legally I hear you’re not supposed to drink while signing any contract - and it’s one of confidentiality, don’t get your panties in a twist - but you don’t seem like the uppity douchebag sort.” A folder was pulled from one of her cabinets, and she surveyed the content of the paperwork before amber brown eyes landed on him again. “You new around these parts?”
Henry had followed Revy through the warehouse-turned studio. Anything could be turned into a studio given the correct use of space and equipment and for as low budget as Revy had indicated the quality of the videos being, Henry was actually kind of impressed with the set-up. This was a company - at least Henry was going to assume it was a company - that seemed as though it could make the most out of what it had.
He glanced towards the gathering area where the stars were waiting for their next scenes. A couple of them eyed him carefully, as if trying to decide the reason for the new blood’s sudden appearance. New director? New cameraman? New castmate? One of the girls grinned at him, but before Henry could react, Revy was pulling him into a closet that was masquerading as an office.
Henry set his equipment bag down before he took the offered seat. “I think you aren’t legally bound to a contract if you’re drunk while signing it, not drinking.” He took the contract and looked it over. He hadn’t expected to sign a contract while taking head shots of porn stars, but even porn companies had their legal red tape. Apparently. It seemed pretty straight forward enough, Henry had signed confidentiality agreements before. He signed the contract and handed it back to Revy. With that done, he took the beer.
“Not exactly,” he answered her before taking a pull. Huh, drinking on the job. This was new. “I’ve been here a couple of years. I just never did the whole social networking thing.”
Oh, yeah, what he said made sense - not that Revy was a lawyer all that much, she typically always did the opposite of what the law said anyway. Hence, you know, fucking prison. Didn’t take long for the cigarette to meet its end by being smothered in her ash tray (which also had like, dozens of cigarette butts), and she grabbed a pen and pushed the paperwork over to him. “Gonna guess you’re familiar with all the crap that goes around these parts, then,” she said in reference to the dreams and all the other shenanigans. Neal, for one, had explained to her that everyone’s PMS debacle was in fact a hocus-pocus thing. Magic. It’s like they were in Hogwarts or whatever.
“Anyway, read through this if you want - nothing all that binding, most people here go by other names to keep their actual identities hidden, don’t leak any personal information out, don’t sell any of the photos to creeps, bullshit bullshit and more bullshit.”
“Crap?” Henry asked carefully. “I, uh, I don’t think I know what you mean.” Some interesting things had happened recently (interesting in the Chinese sense of the word, perhaps), some odd weather, alleged sightings of giant spiders and most recently the explosion that had happened at a nearby park. But Henry hadn’t put much stock in what people said about them. People liked to exaggerate. You couldn’t believe everything you saw on the internet.
He looked over the paperwork Revy handed him next. Everything was straight forward, which was nice to see in a porn studio. Henry had no interest in the stars’ real identities, that wasn’t any of his business. He was just here to take pictures. “You guys get all copies of the photos I take,” he told her, “I retain the rights and any negatives. None of which will be for sale without the express consent and authorization of the subjects in said pictures.” Yadda yadda yadda, pretty standard agreement. “And speaking of which I have my own authorization forms for the performers to sign.” He reached for his equipment bag. “Same legal mumbo jumbo, basically it covers my butt in case one of your stars decides he or she has any future regrets.” He took out a folder containing his own authorization forms. “You can look them over if you want,” he said handing her one of the forms.
Ah, paperwork. The bane of her existence, but it was probably best she did give ‘em a quick look over. None of the ‘stars’ would; most of them would sign things away blindly and not realize they volunteered their first born as a tithe. “Rooooger that,” she mumbled, scanning the text real quick. Nothing fishy as expected, she just needed to make extra sure before the Big Boss funding all this crap tried ripping her a new asshole (though he’d do it, meekly).
Revy reached for her beer, taking the finishing gulp, and her stare settled back to Henry. “Oh, you know, the weird stuff. If you’ve lived here your entire life, you’ve probably heard about how everything here is a fucked up psychedelic drug trip? Or are you as oblivious as you are cute as a button?”
Henry took a glug of beer before giving Revy a look. He had no idea if she was being serious or not. “I’ve lived in Orange County for a couple of years. Some….interesting things have happened, but I wouldn’t call it a ‘fucked up psychedelic drug trip’.” Henry shrugged mildly. “Every place has its quirks or oddities. It’s no big deal.” Henry gestured with his beer bottle. “The media likes to blow things out of proportion. Its how they get ratings.”
He sat back in his seat. “You can’t believe everything you see on the news. Or the internet.” He looked at Revy carefully. “But a lot of people on the network seem to believe it. There’s a lot of talk about dreams and stuff.” He wanted to ask Revy if she bought into it all or if she thought they were all crazy, but stopped himself. If she did calling her crazy may cost him the job. This girl was tough, Henry didn’t want to risk pissing her off. Losing the job may have been the least of his worries. She may decide to beat the crap out of him.
And if she didn’t buy into the whole Dream thing (which seemed unlikely), Henry might come off looking like an asshole. Not the impression he wanted to give to a potential employer.
He sat back in his chair. “Its interesting to read,” he decided to say.
Aww, how fucking naive of the kid. A wolfish grin broke across her face, teeth like a row of razors ready to bite. Nah, she wasn’t offended - actually kind of tickled amused because he was either gonna stay in the shadows, or join in on the crazy at some point. To Revy, it seemed like all the lucky dreamers gravitated towards each other. A clusterfuck magnet.
“Giant spiders, yeah,” she chuckled roughly, tossing the glass into the trashcan and reaching into the fridge for another. It took her a bit to get drunk, and beer alone wouldn’t cut it. “No big deal.” The media itself seemed under informed, which was the opposite of what people would usually expect. Already she suspected that people were pulling the strings behind what was reported, controlling what most people were told. Puppeteers that were aware of exactly what happened and wanted to keep this place a dirty little secret from the rest of the world.
Tough job, when this place seemed to do exactly what it wanted to do. “My advice is to not flush it down the toilet so soon,” she recommended, leaning across the desk some. “I’ve seen some ‘quirks’ and ‘oddities’ be taken to the fucking extreme, and no amount of bleach can unsee any of it. Though I wouldn’t be completely surprised if someone tried to feed you some creepy as fuck ominous message about it all, either. Probably beating the dead horse and all, yadda fuckin’ yadda.”
Henry pulled back away from that predatory grin Revy was giving him. He wondered if given half the chance, if she wouldn’t devour him alive and then grind his bones down to dust to give the porn stars to snort instead of cocaine.
He also didn’t like the way she she was talking, either. It sent a cold shudder down his spine. He pulled back a little more as Revy leaned over her desk towards him. Her words were flippant, but given the way she’d been leering at him earlier the words she chose to speak were downright menacing. For a few moments, Henry thought maybe there was some truth to all of this crazy shit. He clutched his folder of waivers tightly in one hand and the beer bottle tightly in the other.
What the hell was wrong with these people?!
He’d been told once while out photographing wild dogs that it was important to never shy away or cower when one had you in their sights. Never show fear. Henry forced both of his hands to relax their grips and his body to relax in the chair.
“Riiight,” he said hoping he sounded more nonchalant and skeptical than he actually felt. He took this opportunity to chug down the rest of his beer. He tossed the now empty bottle away in the same receptacle Revy had and got to his feet. “I appreciate the warning, Revy. I’ll try to keep all that in mind.” He gestured towards her office door with his folder. “Right now, though, why don’t you introduce me to the people I’ll be taking pictures of?”
Revy didn’t particularly exude ‘nice vibes.’ Jagged around the edges, rough and scarred - it was rare that she held back and rare that she sugarcoated, but today’s words to him would count as sugarcoating. For her, anyway. He seemed like a nice kid, but his skin better start getting thick soon if he thought he could survive the network he signed up on at the very least.
It coulda been that she even got a whiff of that flash of fear Henry gave off. Maybe even made that grin widen, but she was more amused than anything. “Let me introduce you to the main gang.” Paperwork and pens gathered, beer in tow (because priorities), she led him out of her little hovel of an office. “They’ve been given specific instructions to not flirt, so you should be fine.”
She even supplied him a pat in the back. A bit hard, more than she intended to be, but this was Revy’s attempt to be supportive.
Her normal people skills were clearly lacking.
That was a grin of a dangerous woman, Henry decided. He had to consciously make the effort to not recoil from her again. Another beer might help with that whole tough skin thing. Or, in the very least, take the hairy edge off this entire encounter. Henry managed to snatch one up, along with his equipment bag before following Revy from her office. The waivers jammed under his arm, he twisted off the top, glancing at Revy before his eyes settled on the group gathered in the “lounge”.
Henry had no interest in flirting with the actors. Despite the beer in his hand (of which he was taking a liberal pull off of - despite how mean and scary Revy came of as being, she was generous with her beer), Henry was here strictly in a professional capacity. Nothing more. He wasn’t looking for an easy lay and nor would he be one. He wouldn’t be a “challenge” either. As far as these guys and gals were concerned, he was as about as sexual as his camera.
Unless they were into that kind of thing. Then, well, that sort of changed the game a little. Not that Henry was expecting anything regardless. He didn’t think being ‘cute as a button’ would be all that interesting.
“Listen up, bitches!” Her own version of a cattle whistle to round up the troops, and it only took one time to get them to snap their attention towards the fiercely tattooed woman, voice so raspy from smoke and general loudness. Revy passed out the forms, the pens, and the girls stopped applying their layers of powder and blush and glued on eyelashes. It’d give Henry a minute to set things up while she ran down the guidelines of it all, gave them a couple of generic reminders. Questions asked, with answers angrily given.
Really, all things considered, this bunch of peeps with their odd ‘acting’ careers were pretty okay - just like anyone else, trying to make a living, their own way for whatever reason they chose to. They didn’t seem all that eccentric, and were generally harmlessly playful when it came to the cutie-patootie their photographer was. So serious.
“All yours, tiger,” she snickered, a couple pat-pats on Henry’s arm as she moved behind him. Revy would stay for the entire thing (as required) and got herself comfortable on a cheap stool, legs crossed, packing away that Heineken.
Though she had to admit, the kid could put on a damn good face in the presence of something that’d make most people either blush like ten year olds or act stupidly ignorant towards.
There wasn’t a lot in the way of equipment Henry had to set up. The place had its own lighting and Henry opted to use that. He set up his tripod in front of one of the sets. Occasionally he glanced towards the group a few feet away, taking mental note of hair color, skin tone, what type of lighting would be good for one, what type would be good for another. A few of them smiled at him. A couple of the girls gave friendly waves.
Henry fastened his camera onto the tripod and listened to Revy talk. This really wasn’t any different than his gig at the Picture Palace. Their careers were different than the average family that came in for their yearly portraits, but that was it. Eccentric, maybe. Odd, maybe. But really how was that different than any other actor? They just happened to go the whole nine yards when the clothes came off. Kind of gutsy, really.
Everything was pretty standard, but when compared to the talk Revy had given him in her office it felt weird. It felt weird for being normal. Why was that?
Henry was finished and standing by the set up when Revy concluded her speech. He glanced at her as she passed him, giving a few pats on his arm. He looked over his shoulder as she settled on her stool, legs crossed, beer in hand and ready to watch like a hawk. The sight of her seated like that seemed to sum up the entirety of the Orange County that had recently been opened up for Henry. He wondered if he would be able to get her to agree to one photo after he was finished with the actors.
“Ok,” Henry looked towards the group. He gestured to the brunette in pigtails closest to him. “You want to go first?”