Role of a Lifetime
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2021 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Chapter 5

The next afternoon I was again studying for the upcoming psych test I have to take online by Friday.  Part of me loves not having to sit in uncomfortable chairs listening to bored assistant professors while wishing I was lost on a nude beach somewhere.  Part of me misses the special attention I get from the girls and quite a few of the guys just being out in public.  I wonder if that will change a lot after Laying Low comes out.

My cell sounded, interrupting my reverie, so I dropped the book into my lap and picked up the phone.  A smile came onto my face when I saw Brant’s name on my screen.

“Hi, handsome, how you doing?” I answered flirtatiously.

“Better now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you answered.”

“That’s much too sappy for a hunk like you.”

He chuckled.  “I suppose you’re right.  Whaddayadoin?”

“Trying to study for my psych exam.”

“Sometimes I forget what a child you are.”

“Uhm.  Let’s see, who just got nominated for Outstanding Young Star by the American Science Fiction Academy?”

“Damn, boy, you are quite the cyber stalker, aren’t you?”

“Damn right!  I even have a subscription to The National Enquirer.”

“You do not!” he cried in disbelief.

“Actually, you’re right,” I giggled, “but maybe I’ll get one to see who you’re really shagging on the side.”

He laughed.  “If you only knew how dead my sex life is, you’d hold a funeral.”

I laughed.  “Or,” I said with my seductive voice, “maybe I’ll just launch an intervention.  Perhaps we could resurrect it.”

He laughed again.  “There you go, making me blush one more time.”

“Hot-diggity!  That’s my number one goal in life!”

“You silly shit!”

We giggled into each other’s ears for a few moments.

“I have a serious question,” Brant said.

“Ask me anything, man.”

“I’ve been thinking about the sex scenes…”

“Me, too,” I interrupted.  “Every time I beat off.”

Brant laughed with me.  “Stop!  I mean it.  I have a serious question.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  What’s your question?”

“Well, we’ll be quite intimate during the filming and naked together quite a bit.”

“Uhm-hm.”

He paused for a minute making me very curious.

“So, should we, uh, get, you know, tested?”

I thought I knew where he was headed with this and, well, I wasn’t sure if we needed it, but it would never hurt.

“I take it you are not referring to COVID.”

“No, uh.”

“HIV?”

“Yeah.”

I suddenly felt like the expert witness at a trial.  “Gee, Brant, I don’t think HIV can be transmitted through kissing or sweating or even cum unless it is through a cut on the skin or through anal sex.”

“I was just wondering if…”  He left the sentence open.

If we were going to be quarantined together and having naked make-out sessions repeatedly, it just could lead to more.  So, why not?

“Brant, I think you are onto something here.  There’s very little chance of transmission under these circumstances, but just to be sure, we ought to ask for tests.”

“I’m glad you agree.  I’ll feel better if we are.”

“Great.  Will you ask David?”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad we got that settled,” I said.

“So,” he said, “tell me about your conversation with Brodie last night.”

I gave Brant the most faithful and complete retelling of last night’s conversation that I could.  Of course, he was laughing the whole time and, I think, not sure whether to believe me or not.

“We’ll have to rewrite that scene in the floor of my apartment, the one when he interrupts us.”

“Oh, yeah?  What are you thinking?”

“Well, we forgot to lock the door and he comes walking in on us in flagrante dilecto.  Seeing the most beautiful studs he’s ever seen in, uhm, that particular way, he strips off his clothes, wags his willie in front of the camera, and pounces on us.”

By the time he was finished, I was howling with laughter.  It took a minute for me to respond.  Finally, I was able to squeak out, “I couldn’t handle a sex scene with my dad, dufus.”

“Maybe not,” he said, “but I could be the meat in the sandwich so your willie and Brodie’s willie wouldn’t actually touch.”

“Ewww!  I’m going to forbid him from taking the job.”

“It would be the most watched scene ever on YouTube,” he croaked.

“Oh, stop, you perv!”

“Me?  I’m just an innocent being corrupted by the incestuous Fords.”

Still laughing, I said, “Hey, I gotta get back to studying.”

“Okay,” he smirked, “I need to get back to jacking off.”

The click told me he’d hung up without waiting for my response.

******* 

The next day a messenger brought over Dad’s contract and copy of the script. 

We had a table read on Zoom the following week.  There was David, the director, his assistant Tammy, a cute young lady I had not met yet, Brant, me, Brodie, Michael Ricci, and his son Richard.  Not present was Anthony Ricci, who would be on screen only a few seconds as he gets rubbed out by Richard’s shot to the back of his head.  The table read was very interesting and exciting.  The plot and the script really came alive as the various actors read their lines.

A clinic called to set up an appointment with me and a few hours later a young intern (pictured) showed up to take my blood sample for the HIV test.  I wondered who picked him out for me.  Ooooh!

In a few days, both Brant and I got our negative results from the tests.

“Whew,” he said in a phone call.  “I’m much more relaxed now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  “However, remember the result is only good until you have unprotected sex with someone.”

“Not likely during our quarantine,” he said.  Then, he chuckled.  “On second thought, I’m not so sure of that.”

“You’d better not!” I said.

“Unless it was with you.”  He giggled.

“Damn, you prick tease!”

“You just wait and see,” he said.  Before I could respond, he said goodnight and hung up.

We started having three Zoom calls each week.  On Mondays and Fridays, David would discuss our scenes with Brant and me and then take us through them.   I was very excited to experience the dialogue with Brant and begin to picture how this would play out.  On Wednesdays we had a full cast and crew meeting that usually lasted only about half an hour.  That was when David updated us on the schedule and any other information that applied to everyone.  After the crew was excused, David would rehearse a scene with Brant and Dad or the scene of the execution with the Ricci’s.  I enjoyed just observing these rehearsals.  I learned more than I would in an acting class and I got more involved in the entire story-line, too.

Soon we were starting our two-week quarantine.  The funny thing was that life didn’t change any around our house.  Luckily, we had a beautiful, spacious house with a full gym for Dad and me to work on our muscles and for Mom to keep her beauty queen figure, even if no one ever saw us.  We had a pool in the backyard and a tennis court in the side yard behind the garage.  Dad and I swam almost every day.  Mom, Dad, and I played a lot of tennis during that time.  I found my game significantly improved by the time I had to begin filming on Laying Low.

 Brant and I got updated scripts for the scenes we would film in his apartment before we went on location.  During the week before filming commenced, David took us through all of them.  Two were very short, two were several minutes each with some sexy touching or kissing, and one was – I couldn’t believe it – Brant and me having sex on the living room floor when Dad (er, the detective) knocks on the door.  He comes in as Brant and I are doing it on the floor, then we get some clothes on and then I go to the kitchen to fix coffee while Dad interrogates Brant.  When I return, I sit quietly beside Brant holding his hand until towards the end when I can’t keep from injecting my thoughts.  It was a longer and more pivotal scene and starting it with the coitus interruptus made it somehow more interesting, I think.

The studio sent Rachoud, our very cute Black make-up guy, over to our house on the first Monday.  The make-up was minimal, but he tested out a few things on both me and Dad.  Then he gave us each a haircut, which took hours since he was being so careful, not normally doing such work.  But the result was good, I thought. 

On Tuesday and Wednesday, Brant and the Ricci’s filmed the gangland execution and the ensuing chase, in which Brant successfully escapes because he is so much faster than two overweight mobsters.  Also on Wednesday, a home health nurse (hunky Rodrigo!) stopped by to shove a long Q-tip into my brain and another into Dad’s to get whatever for our COVID tests.  He called us late in the afternoon to confirm we had both tested negative.  That meant we could begin filming.

Thursday and Friday, Brant and Dad filmed their scenes in the studio’s offices, which doubled as the police station. 

On Saturday, we filmed my first scene.  It was really odd because there was no one in the building except the director (David), hair and make-up (Rachoud), the cameraman (Kenny), a sound tech (Cole), and one actor (me).  It was the scene where I’m in my office when Brant calls to tell me he’s seen a murder and is now running for his life.  I’m very upset and terrified at first and then get a grip and become Mr. Organized.  I tell Brant where to go and that I’ll come pick him up and we’ll go home.  No, he says, he has to talk to the police.  So I agree, we’ll call the police from home, setting up our scene with Dad and both of us. 

We did maybe 8 takes of the scene, but David liked them all.  He just wanted some variations to chose from later.  It was a good first scene for me because I just delivered my memorized lines and reacted to what Brant was supposedly saying on the phone.  Some actors don’t like scenes where they don’t have another actor to engage, but I rather like the few solo scenes I’ve done.  I’m in control, with the director, of course, but I can let my words and actions take me along at my rhythm instead of the choppier flow of a conversation between two or more people.

Sunday, Rachoud was back to get Dad and me in shape for a photographer to come by for some promotional photos.  The photographer turned out to be Melissa Jewel, who’s been getting great reviews around Hollywood for the past couple of years.  She spent an hour roaming around our house to find the best backdrops and photographed me in several places and dressed in different ways.  A few weeks later, I found out they had selected a photo of me in a tee-shirt taken inside our sunroom to get this plant in the background and the natural light.  This still shot would be featured in a lot of the publicity, especially the early stuff before filming was done.  I’m rather proud of it.

Playing a more professional character than my Aaron, Dad had to try a number of suits and sport coats for his photos.  This was the one they chose for his publicity still.  Apparently, they liked his very serious and slightly disheveled look.  All his shots were stunning, of course.

“Shit, Dad,” I said, “you look barely 30 in this shot.  Everyone will swear this is 10 years old!”

“Well, thanks, son, and fuck you if you don’t think I look this good now.”

I laughed.  “Actually, you do.  When you have professional hair and makeup, of course.”

“You know in our business, that goes without saying, right?  We should never appear in public or be photographed without being properly foofed up by our technicians.”

Laughing some more, I agreed.  “I know.  My days of just being a guy are nearly over!”

“Yes.  When this movie is released, you’ll have to always act like a star.”

Playfully I drew the back of my hand to my forehead, “Oh, the pressure!” I wailed.

I looked at my devastatingly handsome father again.  “Seriously, Dad, how do you stay so flawless?”

He grinned and became even more beautiful.  “Honestly, it’s your mother’s beauty regimen.  It takes a ton of sissy stuff to make me look so manly.”

Again, I laughed at him.  “Well, I hope I’m as well preserved when I’m your age.”

“Get Mom to teach you her regimen.  It’ll add 10 years to your career as a leading man.”

“That’s well worth some sissy stuff.”

******* 

The following day, Monday, was my first day to rehearse with my costar, and I was so excited about it I could hardly sleep the night before.  We had 5 days of rehearsal at Brant’s apartment and were scheduled to film on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday before leaving for our location in Northern California.

Although Brant and I had Zoomed several times each week, had several phone conversations each week, and texted once or twice almost every day, I was still really keyed up as I drove from our house in the Malibu Hills to his apartment in Brentwood half an hour away.  He had given me an access code to the parking garage so the restraining arms would rise to let me inside.  Before exiting the car, I made sure my mask was firmly in place.  I’d not worn a mask much, having not left the house in weeks, so it felt a little strange, but okay.

Even though I parked on the third floor of the garage, I had to go down to ground level to be able to enter the building through the guarded lobby.  When brawny Sergei had checked my name on the authorized visitor list and perused my driver’s license, he allowed me to enter the elevator to go up to 23, where Brant lives.

I stood before the door marked 2302 for a few seconds taking deep breaths and practicing a meditative “OOOOOOOHHHMMMMM.”  Finally, I opened my eyes and pushed the doorbell.  The bell sounded like a muffled Big Ben, almost scaring me. 

Brant opened the door in about 2 seconds.  Without a mask, I could see a huge smile on his delightful countenance.  “I thought you’d never get here,” he whined as he pulled me into his firm embrace and (as God is my witness) goosed me with a pelvic thrust!

Since he held me tight against his front, I whispered into his ear, “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’re hot for me.”

He giggled, patted my ass a couple of times, and kissed my nose.  “Hell, boy,” he said in a very macho voice, “you need to recognize a pass when you get one.”  Then he released me and stepped back.  A little unsure of myself, I stared into his face to see not a mocking or smirking look, but a warm, friendly one.  So, I thought, is he serious, just teasing, or …?

“Come on in,” he said.  “David got here about 5 minutes ago.”

To be continued...

Posted: 08/20/2021