Married to Porn Pt. 01

Now here sat old friend and one time partner in crime, Sal “Sally” Cazale, hat in hand, surrounded by Porsches, Maseratis Lamborghinis, and any other hi-end sled that the avg tourist will pay top dollars to rent for a few hours just to be able to motor down Rodeo Dr. oblivious to the smirks of the locals who knew better while other tourists looked on in awe while trying to answer the question in their own heads of “athlete or actor?”

“Mr. Carbone will see you now.” The receptionist said to him.

Caz walked into the office but quickly noticed that Alley Boy wasn’t at his desk.

“Al? Where are ya?”

“Over here Sally.”

Sal walked over to find his old friend putting golf balls into a machine that sends the balls back to him. The now portly 60 year old was dressed as if on his way for a tee time. Sal realized that this meant that his window was short and that he’d best explain his business quickly.

So he does just that…

Alley Boy stops putt-ing and gives Sal Cazale his full attention.

“So, you wanna pay off the debt owed to Tony Fishtank by going over Tony’s head and coming straight to me?

Now why would you break protocol in such a blatant way?” The rapid fire 1930’s gangster speech patterned voice of Alphonse “Alley Boy” Carbone asked.

“Hey. What can I say? Tony Fishtank is one unnerving individual who I’d rather not get on his bad side and I’d rather avoid his presence as much as possible.”

“Yeah I’m not really a fan of that sadistic fuck either. But the fact is, he’s one of my best earners, my most reliable enforcer and the holder of the book that you want to make right.”

“Come on Alley. Everyone knows that this is really your book and that he just manages it for you. Why do you and I need to talk through middle men?”

“Jesus Sally! Did you leave the neighborhood and move to the west coast and become an ubatz? I’m a prime RICO target over here.

I stay out of the can by having plenty of middle men. But fuck it. You’re here now, so how much does kid, this “Master D” owe to Fishtank?”

“75 large.”

“75? Does this kid walk around with an unlucky rabbit’s foot or a 3 leaf clover in his back pocket or something?”

“No. Just the usual product of the industry. Eddie Torres was a junkie. Damon just happens to be a degenerate gambler. Even dangling Eddie out of a window in an attempt to get him into rehab didn’t help.”

“Yeah. I recall. But it begs the question. Why did you allow everyone to think that you did that to him over a monetary dispute?” Alley boy asked.

“Hell, if everyone knew that I was just an old softie, how would I maintain any discipline on set?”

“I’m going to do you a solid in lieu of our long standing friendship.” The mob boss said to Sal. “I’m going to make Damon’s problem go away. No charge. But I have two conditions.”

“That’s very generous of you, old friend. So, what are my conditions?”

“Condition one. This Damon stays away from my book. No more gambling on my dime.”

“Done. And the second?”

“I want you to stop this shit.”

“Shit? What shit?”

“Oh, come off of it you bleeding heart cocksucker you. You get too personally involved with these people. Make this one go to rehab, pay off this one’s gambling debt, pay for this one’s abortion, keep this one’s house from being foreclosed on.

You’re a porn producer not the salvation fucking army.”

“These people are like family.” Caz protested.

“In this Thing of Ours, we call ourselves a family also. That didn’t stop the then boss of the family from ordering me to put a bullet in the back of the head of another “family member”.

“Your point?”

“Sharp as a cue ball aren’t ya? Look, Sally…sometimes the treatment for cancer isn’t chemo. Sometimes, you just have to cut it out.”

“Respectfully Alley Boy, are you done? Because if so, we really need to talk about the movie.”

“Alright then. Given the way you’re looking to distribute, I want to finance the entire project. Just me and you like we used to do. How much do you need?”

Cazale writes a figure on a sheet of paper and slides it across the mahogany desk to Alley Boy, who’s Diamond encrusted fingers fold the paper back like a blackjack dealer checking his hold card.

“Big number.” He grumbled.

“Bigger return my friend. The biggest score of a lifetime.” Cazale proudly declared. You’d be able to retire off what we make on this one.”

“Retire? Who do you think I am? Joe Bonanno? You walk into La Cosa Nostra, and you leave it in hearse. No such animal as a true retirement from the life.”

“Tell that to Sammy the Bull or that Michael Franzese. They’re like YouTube powerhouses now.”

Alley Boy stood to signal that the meeting is over. The two men hug, and Cazale departed the auto dealership. The words of mob boss Alphonse Carbone still rattling around his head.

“Look, Sally…sometimes the treatment for cancer isn’t chemo. Sometimes, you just have to cut it out.”

“Where to sir?” Cazale’s driver asked as he held the car door open for his boss.

“Back to Chatsworth, Bobby. I have a major shoot to prepare for.”

Part four a gym in Beverly Hills

“Come on Dionne! Push! You can do it.” Diane shouted encouragement to her sister to complete a final rep of bench press as Dionne struggled under the sheer weight of the 160 pounds on the bar.

“Unnnngh Ugh!” She grunted as she hefted the barbells completely over head triumphantly while her sister relieved her of the burden and re-racked the weights.

“Now that was impressive. Girl, you are becoming a damn powerhouse. I couldn’t have lifted that shit up to save my soul.”
“Practice makes perfect, lil sis.” Dionne playfully responded as she wiped the bench clean of her sweat with a disinfectant.

“Well, getting too muscular might not look good on set where the camera already adds 10 pounds. I’d look like the damn Michelin Man!”

“As if that would stop even one horny 18-year-old from jacking off to your flicks or deter any of your male costars from wanting to fuck you.”

“We don’t hang out nearly enough sis. I truly wish we could do this more often.”

“Well, if you had let me join you in the “family business” we could have been like Mocha and Chocolate and hung out and worked together all the time.”

“I didn’t bring you in, because once Caz found out that I had an identical twin sister, he wanted us to do an actual lesbian scene together.”

“A sex scene between real siblings? I thought that was illegal?” Dionne asked.

“We are talking about Salvatore Cazale here.”

“I see.”

“Besides “big sis” you’ve got a good thing going here. You get to take care of your nephews and get paid handsomely for it. You’ve got your military guy Ronnie. You don’t need to be in this shit that Damon and I are in.”

“I’ve never heard you describe your job like that.”

“It gets old. Yes, it pays the bills. But the idea of taking all these strange dicks inside of me has finally got old.”

“Does Damon know how you feel?”

“Does he know? Hell, he made sure that one “dick” in particular will never fuck me again.”

“Who?”

“Jack Martin, girl.”

“Oh wow! How did he do that? Why would he single him out?”

“When Jack and I “work” together. He no longer distinguishes between us doing what we do in front of the camera as just a job.

He treats it as if we are still in a relationship. Damon started to notice it.”

“Lil sis, is it easy having sex with other men while your husband watches? Better yet, is it easy watching Damon have sex with other women?”

“I’d think that you’d know the answer to that question.” Diane said with a smile and a wink. “But to answer your question, yes it gets easier. You see Damon has the ability to go about his job with an almost “disinterested interest”, or rather disinterested passion.

To everyone else watching, he makes it appear to be completely into it. He once told me that it’s his job to make his costar fall head over heels in love with him for that few hours that they are in front of the camera; in order to “sell the fantasy”, while remembering that to him, this is still just a job.”

“Uh, excuse me, but don’t I know you?” A buff Caucasian male passerby at the gym remarked to the duo but to neither one of them in particular.

“No. We just look like her.” Diane assured him.

The male admirer nodded, and disappointedly sauntered off.

“Sometimes I feel so trapped. It’s like I can barely leave the house.” Diane sighed to her twin.

“Hell, imagine being me with the same face as you. But shit I just roll with it. I sign autographs and all when I’m approached.” Dionne said with a giggle.

“I don’t see how that works. You’re too old to look like me.”

“Heifer, I’m older than you by 90 seconds or so.”

“You’re lucky though sis; you found a nice man with a solid and respectable career. When is the brother going to make an honest woman out of you?”

“I didn’t tell you, but Ronnie proposed to me the last time he was back from deployment.”

“He did? But why didn’t you tell me? What did you tell him?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? Dionne, what’s there to think about?”

“You, Damon, my nephews. You guys depend on me.”

“We do depend on you sis, and I appreciate you considering that. But we aren’t here to keep you from having a life. Besides, if Damon gets this job at the comic book company, I’ll instantly become a stay-at-home mom and that will free you up to move around.”

“So, it’s really happening then? His dream is finally going to come true?”

“It looks that way girl. He’d be making double our current combined salaries as an artist and creator.

And we’d finally both be out of the smut business.”

Part Five: Jack Martin’s North Hollywood penthouse.

He sat on the couch half watching a baseball game between the Cincinnati Reds and the Houston Astros, with a beer in one hand, a marijuana joint in the other, and his cock in the mouth of a very naked Tracee; Cazale Productions newest ebony bombshell.

In a lot of ways, Tracee reminded him of “her”. Same body type, same hairstyle, same sassy demeanor, same tight pussy no matter how much you pound on it.

She can’t take it in the ass like Diane can, but in every other way, she was just as good as the genuine article.

Only she wasn’t the genuine article…

“Is something wrong baby?” Tracee asked as she stopped sucking and looked up at Jack.

“Yeah. I need another beer.”
“And you want me to go get it?” She said as she looked at his dick and seemed to say, “aren’t I already doing enough?”

“Yes Tracee, I want you to get it. Jose Altuve is at the plate.”

“Hmmph, white men. Momma warned me about y’all.” She said as she floated into the kitchen while Jack stared lustfully at her naked, jiggling brown ass.

“Smart lady your mother.” He replied as he turned back to the television.

He wasn’t really into the game. His thoughts were elsewhere. He was trying to piece together why Cazale’s calendar had canceled all future shootings with Diane and himself.

Surely this wasn’t her idea, and Caz didn’t care as long as we drew traffic to his website.

“It had to be him…fucking Damon! The insecure little asswipe.”

“Who are you talking about?” Tracee asked as she handed him his beer.

“Nobody. A bad throw.” He told her as he gestures toward the tv.

Tracee then took hold of his cock. “This thing is so thick, I can barely get my hand around it.”
“Long as it fits in your pussy.” He tells her as she mounts him and manually placed his throbbing prick inside of her.

“God, you’re soooooo tight.” He moaned as she slowly worked herself up and down his shaft.

“You like it baby?” She whispered as she pressed her lips against his.

Once their lip merger was broken, Jack took one of Tracee’s massive jugs into his mouth. She purred with pleasure.

“Ummmmm, I see why you’re number 1.” She whispered.

“That’s right Diane and don’t you forget it.”

“Did you…did you just call me Diane?” A stunned Tracee demanded.

“What? Hell no. You’re uh…hearing things.”

“Um huh.”

While Tracee bounced up and down on Jack’s stiff member, the roar of the crowd from the tv caught his attention as he reached around her to see what happened.

“Are the Astros more interesting than my pussy?” She asked with a mock “stank attitude” expression on her face.

“Stifle it. I have money on this game.”

“That’s all you guys do. Gamble and fuck.”

“What guys?”

“Porn guys.”

“What can I say? I’m good at both. Much better than “he” is.”

“Who is “he?”

“Never mind. Show me some more of this “black girl magic.”

“Daddy. You ain’t said nothing but a thing.”

Tracee didn’t get the memo…

Jack involuntarily let out an ear-piercing scream as he unleashed his entire load into Tracee’s hungry cunt. As usual for something like this; Tracee came just as hard, as she kissed him deeply as her eyes got moist with tears of ecstasy.

Then reality set in…

“Damn it Jack! Why did you cum in me?”

“What? What’s the big deal?” He asked.

“I’m not on birth control.”

“What. How the hell can you be in porn and NOT be on birth control?”

“Because the guys always pull out. YOU always pull out.”

“Raise up.” He said to her.

“Do what?”

“Get off of me. You’re heavy.” He explained.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my weight when you were knee deep in my pussy.”

“That was then; this is now.”

“So what am I supposed to do about this?” She asked, regarding a fraction of his seed now running down her leg.

“Jesus girl…didn’t they teach a health class at your high school? Go buy plan b.”

“Ole smart ass white boy.” She said as she bolted to the bathroom for a warm damp cloth to wipe herself with.

“Your momma warned you about that didn’t she?”
Once she was in the bathroom, Jack could hear the shower going. Good, that meant he had a few moments alone; just him and his thoughts.

He actually called Tracee “Diane”… Fuck!

That fucking Damon!

He could admit, to himself at least, that he didn’t always view Damon as a rival. Hell, he was the one who had made the introduction with Tony Fishtank and vouched for Damon as a “standup guy” that could not only be trusted, but was someone that Tony wouldn’t have to hurt because he’d control his betting and not try to stiff Tony for his funds when things didn’t go his way.

He was even “ok” with the idea of Damon and Diane dating and subsequently marrying. He knew that as long as the two of them stayed in the business, he’d be able to bed Diane anytime the two of them were scheduled to shoot together.

And now they weren’t scheduled anymore all thanks to Damon.

Damon…

“Jack!” A loud voice said that knocked him back into reality.

“What is it Tracee?”

“I said that you’re out of clean towels. I’ve got the last one.” She declared as she stood in front of him wearing the aforementioned towel as a covering.

“Ok, so I’m out of clean towels. The washer and dryer are in the other room.

“Washer and dryer? You want me to…boy you must’ve fell and bumped your damn head. I’m not your maid.” She told him.

“But you did take the last clean towel.” He said as he pointed to the wash room.

“Hmmmph. The day yo dick stops working you ain’t gone be worth 20 cents.”

“Less talking…more Tide pod dropping.”

“Asshole.”

“Yo momma.” He retorted in the worst “black male accent” he could muster. He sounded like Jerome from Family Guy.

“Hey Tracee.”

“What?” She shouted as she sorted out his dirty clothes.

“Am I the best you’ve ever been with?”

“Best I ever been with? I’d say yes.”

“And the biggest?”

“If you’re the best then why do you care if you’re the…”

“Just answer the question please.”

“Ok. No.”

“Really? And whom pray tell, was bigger?”

“Damon Hartsfield.”

“Hartsfield? Damon?” Jack said as he raised his torso angrily off the couch.

“Yes. When I first came into porn I had originally went with Lexington Steel who had Damon to break me in.

I thought that he was going to break me in two.”

“Get out now!” Jack jumped up and pointed toward the door.

“What? I thought that I was staying all night? You can’t put me out; it’s the middle of the night.” Tracee protested.

“There’s a flashlight under my sink; use it in good health.”

“Asshole!”

“Just go down stairs to the lobby. I’ll send an Uber for you. Happy now?”

“Jack I can’t believe that you’re acting like this. Why does Damon reside rent free in your head in this way?”

“Who are you now? “Iyanla fix my life”? Less psycho-babble and more getting the hell out.”

A now fully dressed Tracee finally located her panties under a table, she retrieved them and placed them into her purse, slipped into her platform wedge sandals and exited without another word.

Jack threw his beer bottle at the door in disgust after she departed ; cursing himself because he realized that it was nothing more than his own stupidity that costs him the company of a warm Nubian body sharing his bed tonight.

Part Six Fremont Street Las Vegas The LVN annual Adult film convention

“New Shooter! New shooter!” The craps table dealer shouted for one of the gamblers to take control of the dice.

“I’m your huckleberry.” Damon said as he took the dice, looked them over, blew on them for good luck and then threw a

“Seven! Winner seven!” The dealer shouted as she paid all come line bets.

“Hold on to your chips ladies and gents, because I’m about to tear this table a new…”

“Damon! What the hell are you doing?” A text message blared through his earpiece phone. He looked over and saw Diane, about twenty feet away with a very disapproving look on her face.

“Watch my chips will you please?” He said to the dealer. “I’ll be right back.”

“Baby it’s not what you think.” He said as he reached her. “The casino comped me. One of the shift bosses is a big fan. It would have been rude not to accept it correct?”

“Are you at least winning?” She asked.

“Yep. I’m up about three grand.” He declared proudly.

“Ok, great! Well give me some chips. I want to go and play a few hands of blackjack.”

He reached in his pocket and handed his wife ten one hundred dollar chips.

“Are you sure that you have it under control? Are you sure that you’re under control?” She asked.

“I’m fine baby. Scout’s honor.”

“Not comforting, considering that you were never a Boy Scout.”

He gives her a kiss on the cheek… “I’ll pretend to be one tonight.”

“Don’t forget we are supposed to catch the Usher concert later on tonight.”

“It’s at this hotel right? Don’t worry, I’ll meet you in the lobby 20 minutes before it starts.” Damon says as he nervously eyes an approaching casino manager.

“Ok, I’ll catch you later. Behave.”

“Ten four.”

“Mr. Hartsfield?” The casino manager said after he walked up after Diane had departed.

“Were you able to get it?” Damon impatiently asked.

“We couldn’t do a 15k marker. The best we can do is 5k to get you even but that’s it.”

“Only five?”

“Son? Why don’t you call it a night?”

“With all due respect sir, I’m not your son. Now what do I need to do to get the marker?”

“Sigh…it’ll be at your table. Good luck.” The man said as he turned on his heels and walked away.

Damon was steaming. He had given Diane his last free chips. Everything else, he had on the table, which was less than $150.00.

“Diane is going to kill me.” He sighed to himself as he made his way back toward the craps table.

“Well…well…well, if it isn’t “Master D” himself?” A scoffing voice from behind called out to him.

“Well…well…well, if it isn’t the Thinking Man’s footrest?” Damon replied as he acknowledged the intrusion of Jack Martin.

“We need to talk Damon.” Jack said as he blocked Damon’s path.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Are you that eager to add to your losses mister?” Jack said as he pointed toward the crap table.