Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 04 - Sex Stories

Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 04

... hook for loans I can't repay if we don't get that shot, I'd laugh."

I smiled politely, wondering, what exactly any of this had to do with me. Was she just venting? Happy to have a friendly ear while her career imploded? It wasn't exactly in my job description. On paper I was literally just the maid.

... and why is she looking at me like that?

As I looked up at her. There was something there, lurking behind her eyes. She was up to something.

"If she does show up, is it really worth it for one... well, you know," I said, timidly.

"Yes and no. I'm sure the clip will go viral, but we won't make a cent off that. The goal is to sell a full-length video, and that means padding... lots of padding."

"Padding?" I asked, confused.

"Yea, the plan was to use a stand in. Someone who resembled her. Someone who we could shoot from the back to pad out the film. We were going to shoot that another day, after we knew what we had to work with. I won't lie, the script is paper thin. I mean, I get it, no one's buying these movies for the prose but like... it's nice if some effort is made to string together a few scenes before the actors go at it, right?"

I nodded in agreement, though I had only the vaguest idea of what she was talking about. Sure, I'd seen my fair share of pornos... or at least their highlights. There was a script? Really? Who was writing that crap? Who was reading it!

I took another sip and smiled. She stared back at me like a circling ...

... vulture.

... again, why is she looking at me like that?

"It's not exactly the most original plot, but it works. Sparkle E was going to play a horny rich trophy wife. She spends most of her time home, alone, the pool boy her only companion. There are a few sweet scenes where we learn more about him. He's got dreams, ambitions, a dark past, yada, yada, yada. With a few edits we could reduce Sparkle E's lines to just a few grunts. Maybe she's the strong silent type. Maybe she accidentally drank bleach and burned out her vocal chords. It doesn't really matter. With a good stand in we could cheat our way through the rest. And we could make changes. It wouldn't be that hard. Who says she needs to be a rich housewife?"

She finished her coffee and set her cup down in the sink.

I continued to cradle mine, oblivious to what was about to happen next, my attention divided between my conversation with Valerie and my phone. Where was my wife, why hadn't she replied?

I looked back up. Valerie stared right back down at me with a venomous smile. She pulled out her phone and set it down on the table.

"This is a cutthroat industry," she said, her eyes locked on me. "You need to be prepared to think on your feet, adapt to situations as they arise and stay focused. Failure is not an option. Not when you have everything on the line."

She looked down and typed on her phone. "For the hour," she said, then looked back up at me.

"Every production is its own nightmare. The stories I could ...