"Weren't you exploited?"
Shelly laughed once more, shook her head. Looked straight into the camera. "That's the myth of pornography. No, we're not poor farm girls who get enslaved. Men have the power in legitimate films but in porn it's the other way around. Just like with sex in real life: It's the women who're in control. We have what men want and they're willing to pay for it. We make more money than men do, we dictate what we do and what we don't do. We're on top. Forgive the joke."
Surprise in Rune's voice: "So you like the business?"
A pause and the sincere eyes glazed back easily into the Betacam's expensive, glossy lens. "Not exactly. There's one problem. There's no sense of ... beauty. They call them erotic films but there's nothing erotic about them. Erotic connotes emotional stimulation as well as physical. Close-ups of people humping isn't erotic. I think I said this to you before: The business has a real low common denominator."
"So why have you stayed with it?" Rune asked.
"I do some legitimate theater now. Not much but every once in a while. And most I've ever made has been four thousand dollars a year. Making porn, I made a hundred twelve last year. Life's expensive. I took the path of least resistance."
Shelley slumped an inch and Rune noticed something. The tough, flirty woman who'd begun talking, the Shelly with the facts and figures, the Shelly with the newscaster's grit in her voice, wasn't the same person who was talking now. This was someone different: softer, sensitive, thoughtful.
Shelly sat up, crossed her legs. She looked at her watch. "Hey, I'm beat. Let's call it a wrap for tonight."
"Sure."
The hot lights went dark and made tapping noises as they cooled. Immediately Rune felt the chill of the evening envelop them.
"How did it go, you think?" Rune asked. "I thought it was super.
Shelly said, "You're a very easy person to talk to."
"I'm not even using any of my questions." Rune sat in the lotus position and flapped her knees up and down like butterfly wings. "There's so much material ... and we've hardly started talking about you yet. You're so good."
"You're still interested, we can go to that party."
"You bet."
Shelly asked, "Use your phone?"
"Sorry, remember? I'm Miss Incommunicado."
"A ship-to-shore radio. That's what you need. Then let's stop by the studio for a minute? I've got to see if there's a shoot scheduled for tomorrow." She noticed Rune's small JVC camcorder. "Why don't you bring that. You can do some taping at the party."
"Great." Rune packed the small camera. "You think they'll mind?"
Shelly smiled in a way that was also a shake of her head. "You'll be with the star, remember?"
Lame Duck Productions' soundstage was only three blocks from Rune's company.
Both were located in Chelsea, a neighborhood that changed block by block--while L&R's building sat next to an overpriced, gentrified restaurant, Lame Duck's squatted in a gray and greasy stretch of Korean importers and warehouses and coffee shops. Rune smelled garlic and rancid oil as they walked along the street. Cobblestones shone through the asphalt. Battered cars and delivery vans waited for another day of abuse on the streets of New York City.
They walked into the lobby of the building, stained with the residue of a thousand halfhearted moppings. Shelly said, "I'll be right down. I just have to check the scheduling board. Is it too dark to shoot some exteriors?" She nodded toward the video camera.
Rune said she would.
The security guard said, "Oh, Miss Lowe, phone message for you. It says urgent."
Shelly took the pink message slip, read it. She said to Rune. "Be right down."
Rune wandered along the sidewalk outside. She held the camera to her eye but the low-light warning flashed through the eyepiece. She put it back into her bag. The garlic was making her hungry and she wondered what there was to eat at pornographic film parties.
Food, like everybody else, girl. What do you think? Shelly's just like anybody else. She--
"Hey, Rune!" Shelly's voice filled the street.
Rune looked up but in the gloom couldn't see which window she was calling from. Then she saw the actress outlined in a third-floor window. She called back, "What?"