Read Chapters 1-3 for continuity. Ginny's still on vacation, and takes control of her new Polynesian porn star candidate...while practicing at video direction.
*
I rose at dawn, leaving JJ and Luala to sleep, and had a light breakfast. My plan for the day originally had been to do some sightseeing, as well as talk more with Sam and his plans for a career in movies. But, as I thought more about it, I began to work myself into a haughty, bossy mood – affecting a snobbish, bitchy attitude – something to keep alive the young man's stereotype of me as a "high class" white woman. That, I figured, would be a way to control him – to see how he behaved under authority and direction – and might also be a way to stimulate peak physical performance on his part. My sightseeing could be postponed.
I was excited by the prospect of becoming a video director – even in porno films, given JJ's persuasive suggestions – and I prepared accordingly. I dressed in casual mainland wear – a denim miniskirt and a colorful cropped top with spaghetti straps, without underwear out of habit, and packed my shoulder bag with two video cameras, two digitals, and some feminine articles. This day would be devoted to preparing for future work as a photographer and videographer, as well as for pleasure...exactly the way
I
wanted it.
"Morning, Ginny," Sam said, as he picked me up in the truck.
"Good morning, Sam. Forgive me if I don't talk much. I'm listening to shortwave news broadcasts from the mainland," I lied, placing headphones over my ears to hear some soothing music from my iPod. As we approached downtown Kolonia, I pulled off the headset and asked, "Is your room clean?"
"Yeah!" he blurted. "I was up mosta the night doin' it! But I thought, first, you wanted to go to the other cultural center 'n' stuff."
"That'll wait," I muttered. "Lemme see your room."
"Okay," he said, quietly, as we parked in front of the store. "I took the day off, 'cuz...".
"Perfect!" I snapped, cutting him off, slamming the door on the truck and stalking, with my bag, to the door leading up the stairway to his room over the store. I knew that he could see my bare ass as he followed me up to the second floor.
I waited at the top of the stairs until Sam opened the upper door, then I walked in. It was a large, shabby room, but quite neat. There was a king-sized bed in its center, covered by a clean white sheet. Overhead was a large light with an industrial aluminum shade. A small table and shelves along one wall held a single TV set, a DVD player and VCR, and a multi-band radio with an amplifier. Opposite the TV was a shabby old couch with unmistakable pecker tracks shining on it. Against another wall was a sink, a counter with a hotplate, clean, stacked dishes, and – in the corner – an enclosure made of used plywood that was full of holes and gashes, nailed to a few 2x4s, surrounding what I assumed was a bathroom. There were crates of TV equipment in another corner, more sheets of used plywood on edge, and wooden boxes of other stuff. The room, apparently, was also used as storage for the business on the first floor. The whole place smelled of disinfectant, yet there was a large window open to the ocean. Another window on the opposite wall, opening onto the street, invited a fresh cross draft. "Is it clean enough?" Sam asked, nervously, as I snooped around.
"D'you have something to cover that sofa? I'm not sitting down on all that dried cum," I said, critically.
He quickly covered it with another sheet, probably the twin to the fitted one on the bed, then stood, waiting, very anxious to please. "Is that a bathroom?, 'cuz I need to pee," I asked, pointing to the rickety enclosure in the corner. He nodded and I went to use the toilet. It had been scrubbed clean and everything was dusted thoroughly. There were old shelves on the left wall carrying all kinds of supplies, and the perforated right wall. I looked through one of the holes while I was peeing, and saw Sam sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
Exiting the toilet, I said, "Guess I have to wash up in your sink," as I wet my hands and used a paper towel. "Where do you shower?"
"At the college. I clean the locker rooms and the coaches lemme use the facilities."
"You're quite the young deal cutter, aren't you," I said, admiringly, sitting on the sofa. And I'll just bet you nail horny coeds in the girls' locker room, too, I thought, as I crossed my legs. His eyes went immediately to my tanned upper thighs while he still stood facing me. I took a deep breath and exhaled, as my nipples pulled up my cropped top to show my taut, tan tummy, and raised my arms to lay them flat at shoulder height on the back of the sofa. "Now, tell me about your plans for a movie career," I said, uncrossing and re-crossing my legs, teasingly. I was enjoying the glandular torment he was feeling.
"Uuh...can I sit down?" he asked, softly.
I shrugged my shoulders, my arms still flat on the sofa back, and replied, "It's your place."
He sat on the bed across from me, splitting his loin wrap in front and showing his package, which he immediately covered by turning his knees to the side. Good, I thought, he's intimidated...and I have him right where I want him.
"I wanna get into porn movies," he said. "I've seen hundreds of 'em, an' I know I'm better 'n' a lotta those guys."
"What makes you think you've got what it takes?" I asked, seriously. "It requires more than just a big dick."
"Well...yesterday you seemed ta like our...ya know...an'...".
"Yesterday didn't happen, Sam. That was just
