Head West, Young Starlet Chapter Two

Chapter Two

A Star is Spanked

Rachel expected making it in Hollywood would be difficult. She had not expected it to be impossible. She knew Californians would be rude. She didn’t know they’d be hateful.

First three auditions, the soft men wouldn’t even let her in to audition after she stood in line for hours. Fourth, getting inside the auditorium, the man in the beret glanced at her and sent her away with a flick of his female school teacher snow white hand. She thought about kicking his ass for the rudeness, but this was the city, and such things weren’t allowed.

A lot of things that made sense weren’t allowed in the city, but the twenty-third audition involved a fat man unzipping himself and telling Rachel to put her resume on the table and her face in the zipper, or her resume in the trash can. She expected something like this, eventually, but assumed the cheap lecher would attempt seduction. Not be so vulgar about it. She turned around and left, not even thinking about kicking his ass because she’d never seen such a sorry man. He looked like a car abandoned in a swamp. He punished himself by not working.

Next audition proved just as hopeless, but not sordid, so she stole her audition notes.

Face: Angelic cute, not grasping.

Body: Strong, lean, not thin. Only good for military roles. Mark on finger.

Personality: Good emotion, not personally expressive. Problematic off set.

Voice: Poorly hidden southern accent. Strong, hard to work with.

Talents: [blank]

Rachel read the summation of her being again and again. How the Hell could one of God’s angel’s not grasp a mortal’s attention? Does working for a living make a thin body lean? Who the Hell cares about the actress off set? Is a “strong” voice an asset or deficit? Talents…

Rachel sat in line for an extra spot on a soap. She sat next to two women who were probably working on a life dream because they looked to die of cancer they were so thin.

‘This is a pretty tough business, huh?’

‘Please!’ The skeleton to her left exploded. ‘It’s the fucking carbs that do it.’

‘It’s the carbs.’ The dying twenty-year-old to Rachel’s left agreed. ‘This nation is sick with fat.’

‘Carbs? You mean… um… carbohydrates?’

‘T’sheah.’

‘Totally.’

‘But,’ Rachel was so happy to talk to somebody. ‘You mean carbon chains were all the carbons are saturated with molecular bonds?’

Her new friends looked at her, than looked away. Rachel, not sure she made herself clear, continued.

‘Because I think we need them to stay alive.’

The chemo patient on the left, experienced and kind hearted, put forth the effort to educate the rube. ‘Carbs are bread and pasta. Stay away from them; they make you fat. You don’t want to get fatter, do you?’

Fatter? ‘But the body needs energy—‘

'Then get fat, then. I don’t care. There are always roles for "fat best friend".’

The last straw was not getting the job at Applebees, after not getting the role of waitress working on tips at the diner on the corner, or anyplace that wanted a girl to move plates of food. Hopeless, she tried for a farm job, but they didn’t hire people with a social security number. Self disciplined abstinence from carbs grew less and less an issue of discipline.

‘I see this all the time,’ Ran said, her talent agent. ‘So… what’s your situation? As for as staying power goes?’

‘My money’s running out.’ She’d made a horrible mistake. Momma was right, but at least she made it without developing a drug addiction or getting murdered. ‘I have enough to go home.’ Rachel fiddled the tooth mark on her thumb. ‘Sorry I didn’t work out for you.’

‘Rachel… hmmm.’ He was an oily man, but Rachel trusted him as far as it goes. He seemed kind. ‘There is a non-Hollywood film industry that I think you may do well in.’

‘I’m not doing pornography. Jesus wouldn't like it, and neither would I.’

‘Well—‘ Ran held out his hands, all democratic. ‘There is pornography, then there is pornography. Then there is fetish.’

Terence Fellow’s house was very nice, if inhuman, which fit into the concept of “nice” in Los Angeles. It sat on a hill where buses didn’t go, and seemed to be three parts window for each part wall. Rachel was afraid to touch anything, reminding her of Cameron’s parents’ house. Tina, Mr. Fellow’s assistant, was very nice. And low on carbs, but somehow managed to be polite. Hmmmm… being skinny and bleached blonde did not preclude manners. No accent, so Rachel figured Tina came from the Midwest.

‘Rachel? Why, look at you… Face of a an angel! Stand up, let me look at you.’ Terrence Fellow was a little man, a sun worshiper, and very fit. Rachel stood up and turned around nice and slow to give him a look at her tight jeans and T-shirt. While he looked her over, she looked over his living room. There were metal planks jutting forth from the walls and ceilings (looked to be for cameras), a picture of Fellow in an afro and his teammates on a seventies Olympic Team (no medals), three beautiful cats perched high enough to look down on the mere mortals, lots of weird art that looked expensive, and then finally Fellow. He looked to have a lot of energy.

They shook hands, and sat.

‘Now, Ran told you about our little niche in the internet market, right? Good. Perfect. I mean you is what I mean. Perfect. Any questions?’

‘This isn’t pornography, is it? Cuz… because I’m not… you know.’

‘No! No, it’s just spanking.’

‘Ha!’ Tina brought in a tray of Ice Tea. ‘And paddling, and caning, and-‘

‘Don’t scare the girl, Tina! Rachel, can I call you Rachel? Rachel, we let the models go at their own pace. Tina,’ Tina handed Rachel a folder. Fellow raised his glass to sip. ‘Now, that-‘

‘Sorry, sir, before you drink, can I-‘

‘Terrence, please. Or Terry, or whatever. Save the “sir” for on camera.’

‘Terrence, um, could we switch glasses?’

Terrence and Tina squinted at the Texan. ‘Why? Is… hach.. cha, cha’ and Terrence lost himself to humor. He recovered after a few snorts. ‘Sure, here.’ Rachel took his and handed over hers and waited. Amused beyond measure, Terrence lifted his glass and toasted, “To Caution!” and downed the entire glass. Rachel figured there were dozens of ways to defeat her little test, but at some point you have to trust people. She sipped tea. It had some weird Asian leaves in it, but it wasn’t bad. It was cold and wet, and that was enough.

Rachel held in her hand a folder containing a matrix of pay grades. Find the tool of correction, match to the number of licks, then adjust for level of clothing worn. The math ended in a U.S. Dollar amount, weak as it was.

‘Now, Rachel, we always start models off with a good old fashioned hand spanking, usually on the bare. Now, bare has many definitions. Tina, great tea.’

‘Thank you for the tea, it’s lovely.’ To Rachel, thanking was an instinct, and her instinct took over as her conscious mind studied the grid of pain and money before her.

‘Yes, Tina, really excellent. I’m glad those Asian Home-Econ classes I send you to are paying off.’

Rachel’s finger went from the heavy strap, to the number sixty, and adjusted for “Thong/Bathing Suit/Hiked Panties” and gasped.

‘Now, I know it sounds pretty scary. That’s why we start off with a nice, simple spanking, maybe two minutes, just to see where we stand. What do you think?’

‘Ahhhhhh…’ HOLY SHIT IS WHERE I STAND!!! she thought. If Rachel had only video recorded all her whippings from her mother, she could start her own studio and hire Steven Spielberg. Kids in Texas were getting the shaft! No wonder everyone in L.A. could afford Prada. With a combination of all their casual sin and the lucrative nature of spanking, how the heck did the State go bankrupt? They didn’t tax spanking money?

‘Ahhhh (cough), um, Mr. Fell – Terrence, how many, um, spankings can we film today?’ Terrence explained to Rachel that, sadly, due to work safety laws, they could only film her rent, utilities, two months worth of city bus fare, a week eating decent food, her library fees, and a reasonable savings of spanking that day.

If, that is, she could take it.

---

Rachel exited the dressing room (which was just a normal bathroom three times larger than Rachel’s apartment) fully clothed except now she wore one of the wardrobe’s pink thongs under her jeans instead of her cottons. She figured a thong wasn’t really naked, not really, not considering what she’s seen on the beaches around here.

This was the City, to told herself over and over – and not the City of Dallas, either.

Tina took Rachel by the hand and led her back to the living room, all smiles and encouragements. It helped a little.

‘Rachel, our cameraman, Glen; Glen, our new model, Rachel.’ The two nodded to each other, but were each far too preoccupied for a proper greeting: Glen on his camera; Rachel on the kaleidoscope of butterflies in her empty stomach. She looked around, hoping for something comforting but not shaming to focus on, like a calendar with a picture of a kitten hanging from a limb. No crosses looking down on her, which reminded her.

‘Um, Tina,’ Rachel’s voice was very small. Tina, proving herself more and more a genuinely nice person, pressed her ear close so the men couldn’t hear. Probably an unnecessary precaution, as Glen was frustrated with the light, and Terrence talked on three cell phones to fix a scheduling snafu, but girls like their secrets. Rachel took off her plain string necklace with a wooden cross on it she kept hidden under her shirt, afraid roving bands of atheists would see her and burn her at the stake, or pummel her with copies of On the Origin of Species drive-by style. ‘Could you hold this for me? I’d… I don’t think… I’d just rather not wear it during—‘

‘Shush.’ Tina’s eyes oozed understanding. ‘I’ll take good care of it, don’t worry. Really, I know it’s weird and scary at first, but before you know it, it’ll be a day at the beach.’

‘You mean, like, getting tanned?’

Tina burst into laughing. ‘You,’ She pointed at Rachel. ‘You.’ And walked off.

Before she knew it, she stood at the right of Terrence, who didn’t stand at all, but sat in a heavy wooden chair with no armrests.

‘OK, you know what you got coming. Get over.’ Rachel froze. TAKE DOWN MY PANTS? Just do it. Just-no-yes but – what the Heck I can’t (Slap!). Terrence gave her hip a whack of his open palm, which is just what her momma used to do when Rachel hesitated. After that it was simple training.

And she was over, her might-as-well-be-totally-bare ass in the cool air, her eyes staring right at a camera only feet from her face, her mind on the other camera right on her ass.

‘You earned this, brat!’

‘Yes, sir.’ Rachel tried to sound guilty. She had no idea how well she pulled it off. She squinted her face, bracing herself for her first ever professional spanking.

Smack. Smack. Smack….

Must be a warm-up.

Smack. Smack. Smack….

What is this?

Smack. Smack. Smack….

Are you kidding me? You have got to be kidding me. I’m from Texas, you wuss, not Kansas. Let me have it!

‘Alright, get in the corner.’

“And Scene,” she thought.

‘How was that, Rachel?’ Terrence asked as she pulled her jeans up. ‘Now, you didn’t give me the safe word, so I went the full three minutes.’ Pffff. Rachel wished her mother believed in this “safe word” nonsense.

‘Fine.’

‘Glen?’

‘Great shot. Ahhh… this kid is a bit tougher than we’re used to I think. She looked, well, confused. Then amused. Then, well, the words are bored and agitated. But the camera loved it. Her face is perfect. I think the members are really going to enjoy this stuff.’ Glen went back to his camera. Rachel studied him for the first time. He reminded her of home. He was in really good shape, but not that male model crafted fake fit from the gym. Not bulky like a movie star. Glen was fit because he used his body for a job. He had a nice soft tan, his hair was short, and he looked like he bathed and didn’t burn the Flag on weekends.

Rachel noticed Terrence studying her while she studied Glen.

‘Rachel, is this true?’

‘Well, Terrence, it’s not like the spanking didn’t hurt, but come on. I mean, I’m not three years old.’

Terrence smiled. Money. Money!! Life Affirming Money!!!!!!!

Bent over the chair this time, a wide leather paddle reddening her bare cheeks, Rachel showed a tad more emotion.

SMACK!

Her eyes widened the above mentioned tad as her butt screamed in pain. In a calm, even voice, Rachel screamed, ‘Twenty, sir! Thank you, sir! Sir, I promise I wont try to sneak out again, please!’ Then they played out the rest of the scene: lecture, promise, threat of escalation for next time, promise, stand in corner.

‘Glen?’

‘Interesting facial emotion. Haven’t seen it before. The members can tell that it hurts.’

‘Tina?’

‘All I can say is I love the acting. She sounds like a contrite little girl.’ Rachel beamed. Ha! She knew she could act.

‘Rachel?’

‘Fine.’ Terrence noticed she didn’t even rub herself. ‘What’s next?’

WHACK!!!!!

Rachel had never had the pleasure of a full length wooden paddle whacking. Grabbing her knees, swaying forward and stressing her leg muscles to return to position in less than a second, she was thankful for the following: that her mother didn’t own a huge wooden paddle; that Terrence insisted on models wearing jeans when first introduced to the paddle; and finally, that she didn’t have any lines for this skit.

Still, five licks and not a peep out of the creature.

Then they played out the rest of the scene: lecture, promise, threat of escalation for next time, promise, stand in corner.

Glen, Tina, and Terrence stared at her. She did a lot of things. She adjusted her jeans. She looked self-conscious. She tried to smile. She bit her lip. She said, ‘Was that OK?’ But she didn’t rub.

Terrence, being a great director, knew how to handle this.

‘Lunch break.’

---

Terrence always catered. A veteran model, Fiona, Terrence, and Tina sat around the kitchen table littered with sandwich materials, and discussed the website and a new series they were planning involving a young wife and a marriage contract that involved – oh Jeeze take a guess.

Not feeling “in” enough for such shop talk, Rachel made four carb heavy sandwiches with three types of meat and poultry and everything else one could imagine went between two slices of thick, fresh baked bread, put them on two plates, and retreated to the living room. She sat on the brick fireplace and handed Glen his plate.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Glen worked on the cameras, taking a bite from time to time, using a napkin to hold the sandwich to keep his hands clean. Rachel watched him, but looked away when needed so she didn’t seem nosey.

The fifth time Glen sighed. ‘Come here.’ Rachel popped off the fireplace and fell to her knees before the mysterious machines. ‘Here, see? That’s the speed.’

They believed in two-hour lunches on the West Coast. Probably a compromise with the Mexicans' siesta. Rachel would need to learn to eat slower as she was used to eating her lunch in fifteen minutes while sitting horseback. She learned a lot about cameras, though. Glen talked in a firm, direct manner, asked questions and was quick to correct. He wasn’t mean, he was just, well, strict. Rachel thought it might be rude to ask where he was from, so she didn’t.

Fiona was a tall, strong girl with long black hair and powerful features. She towered over Rachel as she fingered that wicked looking strap.

‘I told you what I’d do if you “borrowed” my stuff without permission again, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, but—‘

‘Yeah but what?’

‘You’d strap me.’

‘Yeah,’ Fiona said, nodding and looking pissed. ‘Now get your pants down. Over the couch and hold on, because you’re in for a sound strapping young lady.’

Now Rachel really did feel at home. She lowered her jeans with the same drudging enthusiasm as in the barn and bent over. Her butt was red, so Fiona said, ‘I can’t believe I have to spank you again already!’

More in the moment than planned, Rachel looked back at Fiona, her eyes asking for mercy. Finding none, she looked straight again, and clutched a pillow for comfort.

SWISH-SWAP! SWISH-SWAP!

It was a formidable strap, worse than Rachel’s momma’s, but Fiona didn’t put nearly as much muscle into it. For the first time that day, Rachel’s eyes misted a bit, and her body shook from the shock of each lick by the shock alone. The sting dispersed through her body. Rachel let the pain expand and explore, taking the total load off her nether cheeks. It hurt for a split second, then Rachel blinked, and she was fine. Truth be told, Rachel’s mother hadn’t gone so easy on her behind since she was fifteen. It was almost nostalgic.

No safe word was uttered. So sixty, and Rachel was rich.

Then they played out the rest of the scene: lecture, promise, threat of escalation for next time, promise, stand in corner.

---

Terrence counted out her payment. Rachel was back in her own underwear, grateful for the little protection it gave her butt from her jeans. Rachel could take these West Coast spankings fine, but they built up, and a sore ass hates jeans. Still, she didn’t rub.

Rachel put what was to her a small fortune into her purse.

‘Rachel,’ Terrence leaned in, looking paternal. ‘Is there something you want to talk about?’

‘Well, we said next Wednesday, right?’

‘No, I mean,’ Terrence looked around the room. Fiona had left for her nursing class after taking the hairbrush for forty whacks from Terrence as “punishment for smoking.” She mewled and yelped like a kid, but Rachel didn’t say anything. Her sister Beatrice also made a lot of noise when in Dutch, and Beatrice was a hard as Georgian pine. Glen and Tina packed up the cameras. Terence continued. ‘I mean, do you want to tell me something about your home? Your family?’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, you know. There are a number of excellent centers in the city. I could give you a few cards and recommendations. You wouldn’t be the first girl who came here who… needed help.’

‘Like, for banking? Cuz I have a checking account and a mutual fund I use.’

‘No. No… were you… escaping, anything?’

Rachel didn’t have the first damn clue what this guy was talking about. She took a stab.

‘I’m… I’m not wanted by the law, if that’s what you mean.’ Rachel looked at Glen and Tina for a hint. Glen polished a lens with the special cloth he showed her, and Tina meticulously put small pieces of the camera kit in Styrofoam. They made a good job of not looking at her.

‘No. No, I mean, were your parents, um, abusive?’

It crept in, slow but sure: This son-of-a-bitch just insulted family.

‘WHAT?!’

‘Ok, Ok.’

‘No! How dare you – my momma loved me from the second she saw me, and raised me and tended to every single step I ever took! I could make one phone call and bam. She’d knock this whole pinko state into the ocean if you hurt one hair on my head, you Blue State beach bum! She'd raise an army of Rangers and they'd raise Hell then shove it down your tea drinking throat!’ Fury being piqued, Rachel more than a little slipped into her accent.

‘Ok, ok.’ Terence waived his hands defensively before him, but his hands may as well have been wet napkins in front of a cannon.

‘You think we’re some kind of Texas Chainsaw Massacring incest bred hicks just waiting for the South to rise again? Like some Saturday Night Live sketch making fun of people who don’t kiss European ass? My family has suffered every damn pain God could think up and bashed the shit out of it! And all on our own—no help from nothing. My great-grandfather built and funded one of the oldest schools in the State. It’s named after him!’ Fury a little abated, Rachel turned a little as a sign of abatement. ‘Even taught Latin I’m told by momma.’ She managed to piss herself off with that, and used her finger to force her words. ‘And my momma doesn’t lie!’

Terence had backed up a few steps, not sure what to do with the badger jabbing her finger into his chest. Jesus that hurt.

Glen popped Rachel one on her ass. She jumped straight up in the air from the shock while Terence reached for his cell phone, hoping the ambulance got there before Glen bled on his white carpet.

Rachel landed and turned, ready to just start killing, just in time for Glen to grab her shoulders. He was firm, very strong, but he didn’t shake or bruise her. He just used his hands to frame her. He looked her right in the eyes.

‘Rachel, I promise you, Terence didn’t mean that. It wasn’t even in his mind. You have to understand, troubled girls often come here, and Terence doesn’t want to take advantage of them. He's a good meaning guy. Really, it’s just that you are so stoic during a spanking that he thought maybe you were too used to pain. Mistreated, and maybe you could use some help, but we can all see now that your family are good people. OK? Just a misunderstanding. That’s all.’

“Hmmmm…” Rachel thought. Why isn’t everything red anymore?

Oh… shit.

OH MY GOD! I’VE BURNED MY MEAL TICKET!

‘Mr. Fellow, Mr. Fellow I’m so sorry!’ She broke from Glen and stood submissively before the still nervous man. ‘It’s just that you don’t say, you don’t even imply anything like that back home unless you want a fight and I guess – I’m. So. Sorry. Please, please let me come back and work for you. I promise, I really really promise that—‘

‘Shush. Shhhhhhhhh!’ Terence tossed the phone behind his back (Tina caught it) and looked in awe at the badger. ‘Yes. YES! That’s the passion I want to see in you, Rachel! The anger, the life!’ Terence had to spend the next half hour assuring the girl that she ABSOLUTELY HAD TO COME BACK NEXT WEDNESDAY, and for the love of God, call him Terence. Or Terry.

‘And I love the accent. Remind me to work that in sometime. Now get on home. It’s getting dark. Drive safe. Remember, seat-belts save lives. Tina! Come.’

Rachel knew Californians were crazy, but not batshit crazy.

‘Rachel,’ Rachel, at the door, spun to see Glen sitting back on the brick fireplace, breathing on a lens then wiping it down. ‘I didn’t see your car outside.’

Glen gave her a lift, only saving her about four hours walking and waiting on the bus. The seat was leather, and warmed her burning ass, but she refused to fidget her bottom as that would be rude. He was being nice, after all. They didn’t talk until it was time for her to get out.

‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure. I’ll pick you up next week for the shoot.’

‘Um, thank you so very much, but I meant, when just now when I thanked you, you know, for talking me down. I sort of lost it there.’ Ha ha, she fake giggled. For an actress she wasn’t very good at it.

‘It’s nice to see someone care about family like that. I’ll see you next week.’ He drove off in his SUV. He didn't speak exactly like her, but he did anyway. And he didn’t even try to take advantage of her. He was smart and kind and he was a safe driver. And he cared about family. And he was tall. Rachel’s fingers went to her chest on their own, her fingertips dancing on her pulsating heart. Wait… were was her necklace?

‘Oh…. DAMN IT!’