Lottery Dreams Ch. 08: It's a Wonderful Life

Chapter 8: It's a Wonderful Life

Life in Ampswell was trying to settle down. How a small place could go back to normality after such great events, no one was sure. Never had it attracted so much attention from the outside world. Not even during the English Civil War, had the small market town been under so much scrutiny from outsiders. Never a day went by when the tabloid newspaper in the little shop, did not carry a story that was all too familiar.

The workers still filed past to go to Cobol holdings and the other small factories. But this time, they saw themselves depicted on the pages. It was like having a mirror held up to their own lives. What were they doing there?

Of course, everyone knew everyone else, so when a marriage scandal came up, they found themselves as neighbours. Sadly the stories were always bad, and they knew the truth. "They never talk about his other women," people would say. Or: "He did worse than that?" The drinking and debauchery were all too common, and once the world looked upon this small commune of souls, it did not make happy viewing.

The lottery winners laughed about it all, for the most part. Bob had his front pages blown up and turned into giant posters, to adorn his wall. He would take people on a tour of the house and show them the catalogue of his life, painted out in tabloid horror. The Brit loved them

"Three in a bed is said there!" he would laugh. "Can't remember that. Must have been pissed. Even if I did do it, the women never complained. Well, not the married ones."

Never had the holy institution of marriage been so dragged through the mud. The British public was privy to any number of couplings in one bed. To a world where none of the children really knew their true fathers or cared. The women were often put on the spot as to who they had truly been partnered to. Although they were damn sure who they wanted now. And why.

There was an army of lawyers moving into Ampswell now, to deal with the divorce cases. Major companies from New York were actually buying up property to deal with it all. Land prices rocketed, as they had to come to terms with the problem. In fact, there was a time when it looked like businesses around the lottery winners would take over as the major employers in the area. Television crews were parked all along the roads around the town. The communal green, once used only for Lent fairs, now housed a small town in itself, for vans sporting satellite dishes.

You could not walk up the high street of Ampswell, without being accosted by men and women with microphones. They wanted to know everyone's opinion on the situation. At first, people were embarrassed by this and then annoyed. Now they too had become experts. Ever since they found these newcomers would pay for tales of horror, they tried their best to remember the details.

Now the lottery winners could be recalled by every day of their childhood. Old school friends from the sixties were brought back to life. Every job they had ever had around the town was poured over again and again. But nothing took as much attention as the factory.

Cobol was a joke word around the area and had been for a number of years. If you were down on your luck and lacking in any skills, you could always get a job there. Now the truth was coming out. Every accident that had ever occurred was drooled over, and the full nightmare of Cobol's history of safety was brought out into the open.

The papers loved it and held the place up as a chamber of horrors. Local health and safety experts were asked how such a pit of hell could be allowed to exist in this day and age? Of course, they had no answer, and the links with corruption were all too obvious. Stories of "back-handers" and "friends in the right places", were all too common. The local MP did not stand up to any scrutiny and after a paparazzi snapped him climbing out the bedroom window of a fellow member's wife's house, things went downhill fast.

Everything led back to the factory, and the corrupt management there. Eurco suffered worse than most. There was not one person who stood up to defend him. The cruelty and bullying were legends around the town, and people took their revenge. After a Television exposes, that told of how Eurco had actually tortured people on the shop floor, a crowd gathered outside his house.

He had installed the metal shutters years before, after the petrol bomb incident. But now the stones pounding on the shutters were too much for him. He rushed out into the street and began blasting away with a shotgun.

Hitting several people with pellets, the crowd scattered. Of course, the Police were called, but the local constabulary were old friends with a man who had made sure he ran things before picking on little men.

"We can't protect you now," said the Sergeant, as the sirens screamed outside. "This time you have gone too far."

"I pay you good money!" Eurco shouted across the street, as the ambulance crews carried the people away. "Get rid of these scum!"

Any other time, his word would have been obeyed, as they were only too happy to stamp on the men. Now, the whole world was watching, and they knew they would not get away with it. Every TV screen in the country saw the man call for blood and coupled with the fact that there was a two to one match with lawyers in the town now, things looked bad. Never had so few gunshot victims been pressured by so many lawyers, for so much money.

The local MP advised Eurco to leave town, as he was to retire to his house in Portugal. Neither of them knew the phone was tapped by a newspaper, and when the story was leaked the next day, there were some questions to ask.

Natasha's Story

Natasha lived with her mother in a trailer park in Texas.

It was hot and dirty, with little hope of full-time employment, but Natasha loved it.

To her, this was the wild frontier come to life. She could actually live out the fantasies of the characters she saw on TV every day. So it was with some mystery, that she listened to her mother talk of poverty each night.

"I tell you I am going to go crazy if we don't leave this dam trailer." Her mother would pace the small room each evening, pouring out her tales of woe. "Since your pig of a father left, I have to slave in that damned supermarket, for a few lousy dollars. Just look at me?"

Natasha never looked up from the screen, when her mother was off on one of these tantrums, but simply turned up the volume of the set. Television was her only escape, and she saw no point in trying to help someone who had past beyond hope so many years ago.

"My best years are slipping away," continued her mother.

Quite where these years had slipped away too, was also a mystery. But where ever they were, they were certainly out of reach. Like a coin that had fallen down the back of an old sofa, so far that no matter how hard you tried, you could never retrieve it.

"Mama, when am I going to get my acting lessons?" Natasha would ask.

"Acting? Every day is an act for me baby," her mother would reply. "Turning up at that mart is an act. You see me complaining?" Her mother did not tell her the truth. That the bulk of their rent money came from the acts she performed in the back with the manager. The video was just making its mark on the world then, and her mother could proudly boast that she was amongst the first pioneers to make truly pornographic films for this exciting new medium.

Natasha would feel trapped in the trailer park at times. Standing on the edge of the Texas wasteland, and looking out to the horizon.

Where was her dream?

Who was she really?

The questions had to be answered, and life at home was growing so intense, Natasha thought she could stand it no more.

With a series of boyfriends being brought home by her mother, Natasha found love and affection through a similar string of local boys. Sex came easily to her, and she often wondered why her girlfriends at school had talked about it as if the act was an insurmountable hurdle? She loved it. A little nervous at first, but Natasha soon found that the local boys were equally as timid. With their clumsy fumbling, she soon discovered what many women do, that she was in command when it came to the battlefield of the bedroom.

Soon young boys were a bore to her, and Natasha stopped rejecting the advances of the older men in her life and explored a new frontier.

This was a lot more satisfying for her. For here were men who could treat her with respect. Like a real human being.

The rewards were greater too.

Her early boyfriends brought her cokes, but the older ones gave her money.

"Where you get the bread for boots like that?" her mother would ask her, after entering the trailer from a shopping trip.

"Same place as you, I guess."

"You are turning into a little hooker!" her mother would cry.

"If this is cheap, then what do the working girls get?" said Natasha in wonder.

"You are nothing but a cheap little piece of trash!"

"I'm five foot nine."

After a blazing row over one of her mother's boyfriends, that has decided to bring the family closer with a common interest (namely sleeping with them both) Natasha left.

She found herself standing at the Greyhound bus station wondering how much it would cost to get to LA when a car pulled up.

"You want to become a movie star babe?" The gentleman behind the wheel was full of bright ideas and seemed to have plenty of cash to support these grand schemes. So she accepted his offer and travelled to the big city.

Los Angeles was an open book, back then. It had always held the stigma of being somewhere you sank to when all hope was gone, but that was for conventional forms of entertainment. Natasha had few problems on that front. She was quickly introduced to a series of working girls, that did everything to try and hide the fact that they made their money through sex.

Natasha had few illusions on that score. She thought sex was a God-given gift and thanked the Lord she enjoyed the very same thing everyone wanted her to do.

The other girls found the act a terrible chore, and of course, Natasha realised she had not been involved in the industry as long as them. When it came to performing before the camera, they were appalled. It seemed that actually doing it for people to watch was the worst act someone could sink to.

Natasha could understand none of this. She actually enjoyed the look on men's faces, when they saw her rolling around the floor with the partner she had been supplied with. Soon she could choose who was thrown out. At the end of which, she thought she knew how the great actors had felt after a memorable performance.

Life would have gone on like this, if not for video. With these little machines, every home could witness her great artistic achievements. And her fame spread.

After a terrible row in Hollywood over actors' rights, the makers of these special films thought they should give Natasha the money she deserved. By now she had made them all very rich, and did not want a scene where the stars began walking out, or worse, trying to break into Hollywood themselves.

Natasha never felt she could do anything more before the camera than perform sex. The only lines she ever came out with, revolved around the discussion of the act itself. So they were few and far between. In many cases, she wrote the scripts herself and even found the rest of the crew lacking in imagination. So Natasha decided to spice things up.

She had seen other videos involved in the industry and was impressed with the way they introduced costumes and props. The men were far too shy to approach the subject, so she faced it head-on.

It was whilst they were filming: "Beasts in Leather!" that Natasha attracted some more professional attention.

These men were very different and introduced her to a whole new world. For one thing, they took her to New York. Here things were a lot more predatory. It was all about money, and money on a huge scale. When she reflected on what she had left behind on the West coast, Natasha thought of it as almost homely. It had been fun, even experimental. Here, it was strictly business.

Other branches of the industry were open to her now, and Natasha signed a deal to take her work to Europe and the rest of the world. With this, she realised she had now achieved all she has ever set out to do, in that lonely trailer park, back in Texas.

Here mother was bought a house in Beverly Hills, where she took up some serious drinking and ran a string of boyfriends, each a bigger thief than the last. Until she met up with a retired British Army colonel. He set her on the straight and narrow, with some crazy ideas about contacting spirit guides. Everyone laughed at them but paid handsomely at their meetings, and it took her mother off the booze.

Natasha even thought of retiring and living off her, now quite considerable earnings. She had one of the best firms of lawyers in the country, who supplied her with some tax havens, used by senators. In the end, she ran out of ideas on how to spend the money, and just let them get on with it.

Most actresses had to live in fear of their fans. Never venturing out on the street, for fear of mad attackers. Not Natasha. For she thought she knew why. It was because she actually lived the fantasy, right there before them. There was nothing left to the imagination, with no hills left to climb. People were relaxed with her and felt there was nothing to fear. They had seen everything she had to offer, and so there was no secret left to hide. This put her right in control. Confident and focused.

The satellite channel was almost an afterthought. Natasha thought it would never take off in the States because of the cable. Cable was king, and there was little point in having anything else. But when she travelled to Europe she realised many of these places would never get running water, let alone cable. So she stood in the headquarters of The Brit newspaper to witness the launch of their global media empire and the adult channel. Here, the films she starred in were king.

Things were on the up and up for Natasha.

Then came the day when she had to make a really tough decision. The general public was growing very concerned with the spread of pornography and was trying its best to stamp it out. Head of their list was The Brit, and its porno channel.

Natasha could not understand, why something so popular, with such huge viewing figures, should be stopped. Surely, if most of the people watched it, their views were more important than the few that wanted to switch it off?

Sadly the moral majority won the day, and she had to close the door on their new studio in the south of France and move to a desert island way off in the Pacific ocean. Here, they were free from international law. Independent, with a special agreement with the Chinese authorities, the island could do what it liked. When Natasha got there she surveyed the scene.

She was met by a strange character named Rufus. Known in New York for his special security skills, she trusted him to run the island. He had some deal with a collection of companies to run the island, as he saw fit. Natasha took an instant dislike to him and was deeply suspicious as to what he was really up to on the island. Most of it was out of bounds to visitors, and when asked, Rufus would reply that they were involved in special military work for the Chinese.

Natasha was happy enough to make the films and brought along several girls she had met in Los Angeles. They were well paid and everyone seemed happy. The signals were broadcast from their own satellite studios, to be shone around the world. No one could stop them, as they had no idea where they were coming from. International pressure was brought on world governments to find the source of the broadcasts to stop this filth from being beamed into their homes. But it all came to nothing. The companies were too powerful and too well connected to be shut down. And although pressure groups had vowed to destroy them, the location of the porno channel remained a secret.

Natasha thought this would be her whole world, if not for the disturbing phone call, she received from her friend Clare, on the island.

"Rufus is crazy!" she cried down the phone. "Natasha, you have no idea what sort of sick things he wants us to do. There are even sicker things he wants us to do to him. You have to come and help us."

Natasha was deeply disturbed by Clare's phone call and decided to charter a plane straight to the island.

But before she could go anywhere, Natasha's Mother asked her to meet her new boyfriend.

Natasha had never believed in anything spiritual. Not really.

When her Mother began dabbling in the spirit world, she thought it was just the drink taking its toll on what few brain cells she had left. Her new boyfriend was known as The Major. And the Major had some special skills.

The Major told them both in their Beverly Hills mansion that he could contact the spirit world. Not only that, but he could get the spirits to talk to them.

"What the hell have they got to say to me?" asked Natasha as they sat around the pool.

"They could tell you your destiny," replied The Major. Dressed in a blazer and silk scarf, he had obviously been watching daytime television.

"I know where I'm going, buddy."

"Not only that, but you could travel on the astral plains. A bleak and desolate land on the very edge of our understanding" went on The Major.

"Sounds like Texas to me," replied Natasha.

"Let The Major do you a favour honey," said her mother between Martinis. "He's made contact with the other side. Tell her about your spirit guide Major? You know the one? That girl Cassey? You were impressed with her?"

"That's right. I think she is some sort of Angel. She would be very interested in you Natasha. In fact, you both have a lot to talk about."

So Natasha found herself sitting at the table with her mother and The Major, waiting for the spirit guide to make contact. Natasha was looking at her watch and thinking about phoning for a cab when the call came through.

"Not another airhead," came the voice.

"I'm no airhead-thank you!" Natasha snapped back. "And where the hell are you? Where are you speaking from? This some sort of cheap stage trick, because I've been to Vegas and seen the best?"

"I'd love to go to Vegas," replied the voice. "Trapped here, I so envy you, humans. What you can do, and see and feel. Oh, how I would love to feel sex and a man between my legs."

"Jesus girl, sounds like you could do with a good servicing?" laughed Natasha.

"Yes. That's just right. I could do with a good servicing."

"So who the hell are you, and why can't I see you?" Natasha tried to look around her but could see only darkness. "Why is it so dark in here? Has the Major not paid the bill? Hustler! I knew he was a phoney."

"Oh, he's no phoney honey."

With that, a girl appeared from the dark. She seemed to be lit just on her own, without a spotlight, or any light source around her.

"How did you meet him?" asked Natasha walking over to the other girl. "I bet he picked you up in a bar?"

"I wish. No, he was dabbling in the dark arts and sort of, stumbled in here. I suppose you are wondering where 'Here' actually is?"

"I was getting round to it, and where are the others?" Natasha looked around now and could see that the room only contained the two of them. In fact, there was no more room beyond them. "Is this the spirit world? Or am I really dead?"

"Don't worry, you are far from dead. Maybe you could call it the world of the spirits, but I find it dull. My name is Cassey. On your side of the border. Here they call me Astarte. I was once worshipped as a Goddess."

"Sounds like you are on hard times now," put in Natasha.

"I so want to be part of your world. I slip through a few times to taste the pleasure of the flesh, but I need to borrow a human body to really enjoy things like sex and drink and speed. Oh, how I'd love to drive through the desert in a sports car and feel a man's penis."