Fic: The Camera Eye: Sinned Against and Sinning [1/2] [Uruha X Kai, Yo-ka X Yuuki, NC-17]
Title: The Camera Eye: Sinned Against and Sinning [1/2]
Chapter: Twentieth in The Camera Eye series. Links to previous installments can be found here Split in half because of LJ’s post limits; there is a link to part 2 at the end of part 1.
Author: Boots
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Porn industry AU, drama, smut, romance
Warnings: Male/male sex, polyamory, exhibition/voyeurism (since the characters work in the porn industry), flogging, dom/sub, spanking, sex toys, prostate massage
Pairing: Uruha X Kai, Yo-ka X Yuuki , Aoi X Kazuki (action is between the first two couples).
Disclaimer: GazettE/SCREW characters belong to PS Company, Lycaon belongs to Vogue Entertainment and Diaura belongs to Ains. I own the story only.
Summary: Uruha gets an offer for him and some of his actors to work on the “Lust” entry in a mainstream Seven Deadly Sins film series. It seems like the fulfillment of a dream - so why does he feel things are not quite right?
Notes: The Camera Eye turns the big two-oh with number of stories (not counting sidestories)!
It always seemed to Uruha that whenever chaos broke out in his happy little organization, it was always preceded by a “calm before the storm” period.
He should have known that things were going a bit too well at the moment. Saga and Jin had turned in their scripts for the first Yuuki and Yo-ka starring vehicles, and casting was in progress for them. Aoi and Kazuki’s new video was in editing, Nao was in the middle of doing the latest installment of the vampire series and the reality show graduates - Kouki and Ryoga - were off at a promotional event for their new video today. Yes, things were looking good.
He didn’t think much of it, then, when a call from his boss came through. “You’re not going to believe this one,” the boss said.
“Try me,” said Uruha. “I can believe a lot.”
“We just got a call from the office of Etienne St. Jacques. You do know who he is, don’t you?”
Oh, Uruha knew. Just because he was directing porn didn’t mean he didn’t keep in touch with the mainstream film world. “He’s the Seven Deadly Sins guy, right?” As in, an art-film-turned-art-tinged-mainstream director who was currently working on directing a series of films on that theme.
“Correct,” said the boss. “Now, as you know, he’s directed one film for six of the seven sins. On each one, he’s brought in experts to be his consultants. He’s got one sin left to go, and guess which one it is?”
Uruha tried to remember the other films in the series. Greed had been the first one, it had been a Wall Street drama which was a moderate mainstream hit and gained a couple of Oscar nominations. Gluttony was an indie-style film about an international cooking contest that had been a big hit at film festivals and snagged a trophy at Sundance. Pride was about showbiz and Envy the fashion industry; both of them had been successful with the “chick flick” crowd. Sloth was a stoner comedy and had become a cult hit among its intended audience.
Wrath had been the director’s jewel in the crown - a period piece about the Irish Republican Army, set in the ‘60s through the ‘80s, it had snagged a couple of Oscars, plus nominations for Best Director and Best Picture.
“The only sin he hasn’t filmed,” he said, “is Lust.”
“Bingo. Well, he’s decided to use consultants from the porn industry to help on this one. And somebody told him that nobody makes better gay porn than the Japanese.”
The boss’s words sank in, and Uruha blinked. “Us? He wants to use US as his consultants?”
“Not only that, he wants to use some of our actors in the film.”
“But . . . but there’s a language barrier! He’s French, he doesn’t speak Japanese! Okay, he may speak English, but our actors don’t speak that, either! I mean . . . have you HEARD Ruki try to speak English?”
“He’s going to speak to us tomorrow,” the boss said. “He’ll be over here at 10 with his interpreters.”
“Can’t we send him over to Hard Candy?” Uruha said.
“And let them get the prestige?” the boss said. “No, we’re going to at least hear him out. If his demands are unreasonable, we’ll send him packing. If what he says sounds good, though . . . it would be a feather in our cap. And think of the contacts he has in mainstream film, Uruha. Not just in Hollywood, all over the world.”
Uruha sighed. His boss knew damn well he wanted to be a mainstream film director - and it was a dream he’d never let go of, even though he was, admittedly, happy doing what he was doing.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll talk to him.”
“Excellent,” the boss said. “I’ll tell him it’s a go, then.”
Uruha hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. Great. Just great. Why did he have a sinking feeling this was going to turn into a big, fat “What did I just get us into?”
* * *
The director was, of course, fashionably late. Uruha wouldn’t have expected anything different from an arty type. He blew into the boss’ office like a hurricane, a rotund guy with a shock of shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, a bulbous nose and a sport jacket that looked like he’d slept in it. He held out his hand to shake, then pulled it back when he remembered he was expected to bow instead. He was flanked on either side by two Japanese men in severe suits - the interpreters, Uruha surmised.
He spouted off a long stream of French, accenting it with elaborate gestures of his hands, glancing around the room to take everything in. When he paused, the interpreter on his left said, “We are very pleased to be here, we have heard that you make very good and very successful porn here. We see that you have won awards.”
Uruha and his boss exchanged glances, and Uruha spoke. “We won Japan Adult Video Association awards the last two years. Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay. Two of our actors also won awards.”
The right interpreter relayed Uruha’s words to the director. Uruha figured one was the “incoming” translator, the other was “outgoing.” When the director spoke again, he walked over to the awards to get a good look at them. In the middle of the speech, Uruha heard him said “A-O-I” - he knew those were the English letters that spelled out “Aoi.”
“Mr. St. Jacques said that he has heard of your great Japanese porn star A-O-I and he would like to have him appear in the film, along with the other great porn star Rucky.”
“Their names are Aoi and Ruki,” Uruha said.
“Mr. St. Jacques also would like to know who the two actors who won awards this year were.”
“They’re two younger actors - we work with them under a co-production deal with another company,” Uruha said. “They’re called Yo-ka and Yuuki.”
The message was relayed, and the director spoke again. “He said he would like to take them as well.”
“Take them? You’re not shopping for groceries, you’re casting actors!” Uruha said.
His boss put a hand on his arm. “Uruha, let me handle this. Mr. St. Jacques, it’s our policy that we don’t cast our actors, or let our actors get cast in anything else, against their will. It’s very important in this industry that everyone feel comfortable. Before we proceed any further, we need to talk to the actors.”
“And we also want a full description of the film and what parts they’d be playing, translated into Japanese,” Uruha said. “We also need a full description of the film before we agree to anything. We are very sensitive to how our industry gets portrayed in mainstream media.”
When the message was relayed, the French director looked thoughtful for a moment. He spoke at some length, and the interpreter said, “Mr. St. Jacques will gladly supply you with the summaries you seek. Only the film isn’t about the porn industry, per say. It is about the erotic journey of one woman around the world.”
“Is Mr. St. Jacques aware that we make gay porn here?” Uruha said. “That there are NO women involved?”
This made the director suddenly go into a long and expressive speech, sounding very passionate about what he was saying, waving his hands around. The interpreter said, “It is Mr. St. Jacques’ intention to make a film that is a rainbow of passion. All races, all genders, all sexualities. Your actors will be representing the beauty of male-male love.”
“Send over that summary,” Uruha said. “We’ll think about it, we’ll talk to our actors and we’ll get in touch with you.”
“I agree with Uruha,” said the boss.
The French director bowed. “If it is a summary you want, then a summary you shall have. Good day, gentlemen.”
Uruha watched the man and his interpreters leave. “He’s a blowhard,” he said.
“He seems sincere, though,” said the boss. “And he’ll at least treat Aoi with more respect than that action film crew did.”
“Don’t remind me of that one,” Uruha said with a shudder. “I really don’t know about this.”
“Just read the summary,” his boss said. “Give him a chance. The worst that can happen at this stage is we say no.”
Uruha nodded. He was right - it was still early in the process. They could still put the brakes on. He just had to make sure they applied the brakes before it became a runaway train.
* * *
The summary, Uruha thought, seemed legitimate enough. The central character was a young woman in the fashion industry - a secondary character in Envy. (Many of St. Jacques’ Deadly Sins films were interconnected - a minor character in one would be the lead in another). She journeyed to Paris, Tokyo and Milan on business, and at each stop had experiences that challenged her identity as a straitlaced, monogamous woman, until by the end of the film she was in a polyamourous relationship with a man and a woman, both bisexual, and open to other partners.
The notes also stated that St. Jacques was already consulting with an American director of mainstream porn for most of the film - Uruha and his crew would only be involved with the Tokyo segment, which dealt with the beauty of male-on-male sexuality.
Uruha was propped up in bed, iPad balanced on his knees, reading the description of the scenes in question to Kai. “She is in a nightclub when her eye is caught by two beautiful men on the other side of the room who seem to be flirting with each other. When they go off together, she follows them into a men’s room, sensing they’re not going to use it for its intended purpose. They go into a stall together, and she climbs up on a sink to look down and watch them have sex. Later, she spies another male couple making out on the dance floor. That night, she has a dream about a roomful of beautiful men having an orgy.”
Kai laughed. “He intends to get this into mainstream theaters? He’ll never do it. I’ve heard that in America, films with too much sex get slapped with an adults-only rating and can’t even be shown publibly.”
“It’s not without precedent,” Uruha said. “There’s been art films with explicit sex that got screened in theaters in recent years, like Nymphomaniac and Blue is the Warmest Color. But . . . those were art films. I’m not sure that’s what he’s going for here. It sounds more like a big-budget, higher-prestige Emmanuelle film. You know, late-night-cable softcore.”
“Maybe he intends to just kick up controversy with the theatrical release and then make money on the DVD.” Kai sat on the bed beside his lover and put an arm around him. “Then he’ll REALLY be like the real porn industry.”
“I just don’t know about this guy,” Uruha said, dropping the iPad to the bed. “He seems almost TOO enthusiastic, you know? Like he’s in love with the whole idea of porn, of making some kind of big-budget sex film . . .”
“They said he immerses himself in each one of the films,” Kai said. “It’s not every director who can do a historical drama, plus a chick flick, plus a stoner comedy - and make them all seem authentic.”
“That’s another thing,” Uruha said. “I mean, I can see being versatile as a director. It’s a good thing to be. But he seems almost . . . TOO versatile.” He lay back on the bed, arms over his head. “Maybe I’m just paranoid about the mainstream after what Aoi went through on the Dice film.”
“Hey, you have the best instincts in the business.” Kai stretched out next to him, resting a hand on Uruha’s stomach. “And if those instincts tell you that this is a bad idea? I’m sure it’s a bad idea.”
“But I’m not sure yet,” Uruha said, turning toward his lover. “I need to see him in action - on the set. Then I’ll know for sure.” He smiled. “He wants the Suicide Boys in his film, did I tell you that? He asked for Yuuki and Yo-ka. Those two don’t even like doing corporate porn - what makes him think they’ll do his movie?”
“Well, being in a mainstream film with porno scenes is a pretty rebellious thing to do,” Kai said. “Who else did he ask for?”
“Aoi and Ruki - but he couldn’t pronounce their names. And if this guy knows so much about us, and the business, why didn’t he know that?”
Kai kissed Uruha. “Get some sleep, love,” he said. “Think about it more in the morning. Talk to the actors, see what they say. And remember - whatever you decide regarding this guy, I have your back.”
“I know,” Uruha said. He sat up, grabbed the iPad and put it on the nighttable. “Have you ever thought sometimes about a bunch of us striking out on our own? Breaking away from the boss and setting up our own production company? Reita and I have talked about it a little, but just as something in the far future.”
“You’re seriously thinking about that?” Kai said.
“Just toying with the idea a bit,” Uruha said. “Not saying I’ll actually do it.”
“Another porn company?” Kai said. “You’re not going to try going into mainstream film?”
Uruha looked at the wall. That was the dream that had never quite died - standing before a wall of Panavision cameras, calling the shots on a blockbuster, or a potential Oscar-winner.
“Maybe,” he said.
And that was when Uruha realized that he did have to go through with this. If things went well with Etienne St. Jacques, if he made a good impression on him, he was pretty much guaranteed an “in” to the mainstream film world. That is, if he really wanted it.
* * *
“A mainstream film?” Yuuki said as he and Yo-ka made their way down a busy street in Shibuya. They’d just come from the Eros offices, where they’d talked to their boss there about doing new videos under the Eros brand in addition to what they were doing with PSC.
“That’s what Uruha said,” Yo-ka replied, holding up his phone. “It’s a guy doing films about the Seven Deadly Sins, and apparently, he wants us to represent Lust.”
“That is the last thing in the world I ever thought I’d be asked to do,” Yuuki said. “I’m guessing they want us to fuck on camera and little else?”
“Well, it is a mainstream film,” Yo-ka said. “We should get to do at least something besides fuck.”
“Does this guy even know what we’re about?” Yuuki said. “What kind of stuff we do? What . . .” He suddenly stopped in front of the window of a pet store, where an adorable tabby cat was playing with a ball. “Oh, look, they have him on display again.” He bent over and tapped on the glass. “Hello, there, precious. Hello. I wish I could take you home, but we don’t have a big apartment yet . . .”
Yo-ka watched, heart sinking. They passed this store all the time, and every time, Yuuki looked to see if that particular cat was on display. They were looking at bigger apartments - but even with the increased money they were making from the PSC deal, they still were not quite ready to move.
He replied to Uruha’s message. “How much is this director willing to pay?” He’d be in the film even if Yuuki wouldn’t . . . to get him that cat.
After awhile, Yuuki stood up, sighing. “I guess we have to go, if we have to stop by PSC,” he said - but he glanced back at the cat as they walked away.
They rounded a corner and headed toward the PSC offices, passing a big furniture store that specialized in furniture on the funky side - when Yo-ka suddenly stopped. “It’s still here,” he said.
“The bed?” said Yuuki.
“Yes.” Yo-ka leaned over, peering into the window. “It’s gorgeous. I would so love to have that in our bedroom . . . when we have a bedroom.”
The bed in question had posts (perfect for attacking chains with handcuffs) on either side of a solid headboard (good for a suction cup dildo). It was king-sized (which could accommodate anyone they brought home for playtime). But most importantly, it looked plain cozy - the kind of thing you could curl up on with your lover and watch TV, or just snuggle.
As Yo-ka gazed at it, Yuuki pulled out his phone. Okay, it was a one-time sellout. But it was highly unlikely his usual target audience would see this film, right? And besides, Yo-ka really, really wanted that bed - and Yuuki wanted to be able to give it to him (plus the bigger apartment to house it in).
He typed to Uruha, “If we were to do this film, what would this guy pay?” If it was enough for a bigger apartment and the bed, he’d do it - even if Yo-ka wouldn’t.
It wasn’t selling his soul in this case. Just . . . leasing it a little. And the cause couldn’t be better.
* * *
“You’re not going to do it - are you?” Kazuki looked over at Aoi as his lover drove slowly through the usual crosstown Tokyo traffic.
“After what I went through with Dice?” Aoi said. “That’s not happening to me again.”
“What did this guy ask for, anyway?”
“It’s apparently some kind of scene in a club, which leads to an orgy. Guess this guy wants me for the orgy. I don’t blame him for wanting a superstar like me in his film, but I’m not getting that homophobic shit again.”
“Club scene?” Kazuki suddenly perked up. “Do you think he needs a deejay?”
“Eh?” Aoi said.
“If it’s a club scene, and they need someone to deejay on camera? I’ll do it. I’ll audition for it. I haven’t had any good deejay gigs in awhile - this can help me.”
Aoi smiled at him. “Being in videos with me isn’t enough for you?”
“Aoi! You know how much I still want a club of my own!” Indeed, Kazuki still held the dream of being a pro deejay, of maybe even having his own nightspot when his time in the porn industry was inevitably through.
“This guy is going to give you your own club?” Aoi said.
“You know what I mean!” Kazuki said. “It’s exposure. Exposure!”
“I’m a stripper and a porn star,” Aoi said. “I know about exposure.”
“Just . . . I’ll ask him, okay? I’ll ask him if I can audition for the deejay part.”
There was a pause. “You really want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Kazuki said. “I do.”
They pulled into the parking lot of the building, and rode the elevator up to the floor. Aoi walked into the office, and straight up to Uruha’s desk.
“I’ll do this guy’s film,” he said. “But on one condition - he uses Kazuki as the deejay in the club scene. That’s non-negotiable - no ifs, ands or buts.”
“Aoi!” Kazuki said, eyes sparkling.
Uruha smiled to himself. “All right,” he said. “I’ll relay your demands to Mr. St. Jacques.” He’d already relayed the Suicide Boys’ salary requests - and when he’d reported the numbers to them, he’d gotten a reply of, “I’ll do it - but only for HIS sake” from each of them.
Well, that settled most of the actors, didn’t it? Uruha was pleasantly surprised. Now, all he had to do was find out this guy’s shooting schedule so he could arrange it around his own . . .
And, hopefully, shake this feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
* * *
The club scene was the first to be shot. Uruha stood in the back of the room, watching the crew - six times as many people as he usually worked with - hauling scenery into place. Huge, Panavision cameras - the kind Uruha dreamed of working with - were being pointed and focused. Etienne St. Jacques was at the other end of the room, peering at a bank of video monitors, having a conference with his assistant director.
Uruha was feeling a bit like a Little Leaguer hanging out in the Giants’ dugout. He was here as a consultant, to be sure - but so far, the director hadn’t done much consulting with him.
Reita, who’d been wandering around checking out what was going on, came up to him. “Think they’d notice if we stole those cameras?” he said.
“Just a little,” Uruha said. “I wonder just what he’s doing over there.”
“St. Jacques? Dunno, when I tried to get over there his assistants shoved me away. You might have better luck - you’ve been consulting with him, right?”
“Not really,” Uruha said. “All the meetings I had with him - he didn’t really ask any useful questions. Nothing about how we set up sex scenes, the best angles to shoot at, things like that. He just wanted to talk about . . . him. How he came up with the concepts for this film, how he worked with a handpicked writer, that sort of thing.”
“He met with the actors, though, didn’t he?” Reita said.
“Briefly,” said Uruha. “As in, he came into a meeting with them and looked them up and down like he was inspecting racehorses. Oh, and he was fascinated with Yuuki’s pink hair, for some reason. He said it made him look like a ‘rebel firebrand.’ I’m hoping that was just a bad translation.”
“How many of our guys got dragged into this thing, anyway?” Reita’s eyes followed a particularly huge boom mike as it was lowered over the set.
“Six,” said Uruha. “He asked for Ruki, Aoi, Yo-ka and Yuuki. Kazuki’s deejaying in the club scene and he got added in for the orgy, and when the director said he needed one more guy, I asked Byou.” He shook his head. “Orgies are difficult to film for experienced porn directors. This guy is never going to be able to handle it without extra help.”
“So? It’s why he hired you, right?”
“I don’t know if he wants me to help . . . or if he just wants me as window dressing. You know, give the illusion of the production having real ‘cred’ by having a two-time award-winning gay porn director as consultant.”
“Hey, be glad you’re giving people cred,” Reita said. “Some guys would kill for that.”
Etienne St. Jacques finished up with his assistant and began to make his way over to Uruha and Reita, translators in tow. He pointed around the room and spouted off a stream of French, which was translated as, “Mr. St. John says we will film the nightclub scene first - people dancing, making out, and the heroine seeing the pink-haired man and his partner giving each other the eye. Then . . . we will film the actual sex in the men’s room. It will be a glorious scene.”
Uruha knew how the scene went - Yuuki and Yo-ka getting it on in a men’s room stall, the heroine spying on them. “May I ask how it’s going to be filmed? Maybe I can offer advice . . .”
After the translator relayed Uruha’s words, the French director spoke with animated gestures, which got translated as, “Oh, I know full well how it will be filmed. Character viewpoint. Cameraman shooting the action from above. What the girl sees, the audience will see.”
Well, it wasn’t a bad idea - Uruha had used character viewpoint shots before for voyeurism scenes. “One camera? Or ones on the ground as well?”
“Just the one. We want authenticity. This is going to be passion - but artistic passion. Just you wait!”
“If you let me look at the set first, I can tell you how best to place the camera, and maybe you and I can have a talk with the actors . . .”
The older man waved his hand around as he answered, which got translated as. “No need, no need! Trust me, your actors will look glorious in this scene!”
“Mr. St. Jacques, with all due respect, filming a sex scene is a bit different than filming a bombing or a fashion show .”
“I understand,” the director said. “And if I need your advice, I’ll ask it. But I have a vision, you see? And I’m following through with that vision. Now, if you excuse me . . .” The translators bowed to Uruha and Reita, and they left.
Reita watched them go. “So much for you being a consultant,” he said.
“It’s all what I was afraid of,” Uruha said, rubbing his temples. “This guy knows nothing, and thinks he knows everything.”
“You offered to help,” Reita said.
“I guess I’ll just have to watch what’s going on, try to nudge this guy in the right direction - and look out for my people,” Uruha said.
His hunches of them having gotten into something not quite right were getting stronger. And Kai did say he had the best hunches in the business.
* * *
Hours later, Uruha felt like he’d gotten a real education in the other side of filmmaking. A rather thorough one.
Etienne St. Jacques spent a lot of time talking to his crew, moving cameras, looking at monitors, moving cameras some more, looking at the monitors again . . . then a discussion with his cameramen, then the soundman, then the cameramen again . . .
And when all that was done, it was time to shoot. And reshoot. And reshoot. He did something like 12 takes of his leading lady walking down the stairs and entering the club. He did even more of the scene where she watched Yo-ka and Yuuki flirting with each other from a distance . . . and then Yo-ka walked over to Yuuki and said something to him, dialogue the camera wouldn’t pick up. Well, okay, Uruha could understand that - there was a language barrier, the film was being made in English.
Still, he wondered why Etienne St. Jacques specifically wanted award-winning actors if they weren’t going to do anything more on camera than look pretty and fuck. Both of these men had done real acting in Datenshi Blue - their awards weren’t just for how good they looked and sounded when they had orgasms.
At least Kazuki got his on-camera time as a deejay. The director shot and shot him from about eight different angles, including closeups of him manipulating old-school “wheels of steel.” Still, Uruha couldn’t help but notice his star getting a little annoyed with having to do the same thing many more times than he had to with porn acting.
During breaks, his actors came up to where Uruha and Reita were sitting. “Having fun?” Uruha asked Yuuki and Yo-ka.
“I’ve never been so bored in my life,” Yuuki said. “Remind me to never sell out again.”
“I’m surprised you did it this time,” Uruha said.
“I told you - I have my reasons.”
“So do I.” Yo-ka put an arm around Yuuki. “We could see if there’s anything we can have fun with between takes. You know, stuff we could throw at each other, rolling chairs we could push around the room . . .”
Uruha smiled to himself. That kind of crackish activity was one of the most fun parts of working in porn - it was one reason why their fans liked the behind-the-scenes documentaries on PSC DVDs almost as much as the films themselves. “I don’t know if this guy likes that kind of thing.”
The director came up to the group. He spoke at length in French, and his translator said, “We will do one more scene of dancing in the nightclub, at the end of which we will film Natalia” - the main character - “following you to the bathroom. And then, the bathroom scene.”
They all knew what that meant - the sex. Yuuki and Yo-ka’s faces brightened. Finally, they’d be doing what they were used to.
“Mr. St. Jacques, if you have any questions before we do that shot . . .” Uruha said.
The French director frowned when the message was relayed to him. “I know I can ask you if I have questions,” he told Uruha. “But I told you - I have a vision for this in my head. I know how it’s going to go. If I need you, I’ll let you know.”
Uruha was starting to feel annoyed, verging on pissed off. Just what was he here for, anyway?
* * *
By the time they got around to actually shooting the sex, everyone felt like they had been on the set 24 hours. Maybe they had. Uruha had stopped keeping track of time.
It was an actual men’s room, which had been scrubbed extra-clean for this, because the director didn’t want anything “dirty, gross and ugly” in the scene. Yuuki and Yo-ka would be fucking in an actual Western-toilet stall - fortunately bigger than most, the kind that were built to accommodate tourists.
Etienne St. Jacques was going through his usual routine, although he was using just one cameraman for this, with a handheld camera. He’d already filmed the actress climbing up on the sink and peering over the edge of the stall. He was pointing upward and looking at the cameraman.
Uruha turned to the interpreter. “Isn’t he going to bring in a ladder for the guy?” he said.
The interpreter shook his head. “Mr. St. Jacques wants total authenticity. The cameraman will be positioned just as Natalia is positioned in the film - on the sink, leaning over the top of the stall.”
“But . . . that’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“You cannot argue with this man when he has a ‘vision,’” the interpreter said. “Believe me, I’ve seen it before.”
The director turned and said something to the two actors, and the interpreter said, “We will begin your scene in a few minutes. Just be ready to go when he gives you the signal.”
Uruha looked confused. “Mr. St Jacques, aren’t you going to give them instructions?”
The answer sounded rather annoyed, and the interpreter said, “Why should I? They know what to do. They’ve done it plenty of times before.”
Now Uruha crossed the line into full-blown pissed. This guy thought one sex scene was like all others? That all they had to do was fuck? Didn’t he know there were differences in tone, nuance, camera angles, the context of the scene in the whole video . . .
Well, dammit, if the great Etienne St.Jacques wasn’t going to do it, Uruha was going to take matters into his own hands.
When the Frenchman was talking to his sound man, Uruha walked over to his two actors, put a hand on each of their shoulders and leaned in close. They did the same.
“All right,” he said. “This is a quick rendezvous between two strangers - you can’t keep your hands off each other, there’s no time to wait to get to one of your apartments, or even a love hotel down the street. You have limited space to work with, as you can see, so keep your movements economical - small, but effective. Remember the camera angle - it’s going to be above you and slightly to the left. It’s important to let the camera see your facial expressions in a scene like this, so tip your heads back often - just be careful not to look directly at the camera. And remember that you don’t have to worry about cock shots or money shots - since this is a mainstream film, that’s going to be discouraged, anyway.”
“Can you direct the whole film?” Yo-ka said.
Uruha sighed. “If only,” he said.
Etienne St. Jacques was finished with his conversation, so Uruha backed off. “All right,” he said. “Places!” The word was said in English - Uruha understood it, and so did the actors.
They were going to be concealed in the booth for the actual filming. Uruha wouldn’t be able to see them - the action would be monitored exclusively by the bank of monitors by the bathroom door. Which, annoyingly, St. Jacques was blocking the view of.
“And . . . action!”
The door of the stall shut and locked. Uruha craned his neck to see what was on the monitors - which he couldn’t, just little glimpses. He could hear the sounds of passionate kissing, of heavy breathing . . . and it was a bit like being a baseball manager being forced to sit a game out while someone else coached his team.
He should be the one running this show, dammit.
All he could look at was the cameraman on the sink, leaning over to get the shot . . . leaning over a little more . . .
Leaning over too much, Uruha thought. His balance on the narrow sink was precarious as it was. If he kept on like that. . .
He yelled “Look out!” as the man’s feet left the sink and flew up in the air. By that time, it was too late.
* * *
One moment, Yuuki and Yo-ka were pulling at each other’s clothes, kissing passionately, running their hands over each other’s bodies. They were getting into it. They were in the zone, in that wonderful headspace where you forgot you were being filmed (except the tiniest part of your brain which remembered where the camera was) and just got into what was happening with your partner . . .
Yo-ka suddenly became aware of something wrong. It was . . . a shadow. Yes, something darkening the light above them . . . and then Uruha shouting, and. . .
He looked up and saw the guy falling. His first instinct was to protect Yuuki. He pushed his lover to the floor and shielded him with his body, taking the impact full-force himself.
“Oh, my God!” Uruha shouted. “Is everyone all right?” He pulled on the door - it was locked. Of course it was locked, it was part of the scene. He saw the heap of bodies sprawled on the floor - would there be room to get to them?
He ran into the stall next door, got down on the floor (thank God it had been washed) and crawled under it. “Guys!” he said. “Can you move?” He reached up and unlatched the door, pushing it open. Crawling back to the first stall, he walked out the door and stood in front of the stall where the actors were, holding out his hands to help the cameraman to his feet.
The man staggered out, saying “I’m sorry” in French-accented English. He looked at his director and repeated the words in his own language.
Uruha went back into the stall and grabbed Yo-ka under the arms, hauling him to his feet. “Oh, no, he really hit you, didn’t he?” he said.
“I’ll be all right,” Yo-ka said, reaching down toward Yuuki. “More importantly, are you okay, baby?”
“You REALLY have to remind me to never sell out again,” Yuuki said, letting Yo-ka pull him into an embrace.
“What happened?” Yo-ka said, rubbing his side.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Uruha said.
“I’m fine,” said Yo-ka. “Really.”
He glanced out at the other two - St. Jacques seemed to be haranguing the cameraman. “What happened is this guy doesn’t care about his crew’s safety. If that were me filming this . . .”
St. Jacques came over to the actors and said something. The interpreter said, “We are going to break. We will resume this scene tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Uruha said. “But they’re supposed to be filming . . .”
“Yes, I know, well, we can’t do that until we do this, right? Call is at 7 a.m.” And the director stormed off.
Uruha watched him go, a fury rising up inside him. The cameraman just stood there, stunned. So did the interpreter.
One of the crew members walked into the bathroom and said something in French. “He’s asking if they should take down the equipment,” the interpreter said.
Take down the equipment? Were they asking HIM that? Or the cameraman? Did it matter? Uruha couldn’t believe how this had gone. If he was in charge of this . . .
Suddenly, inspiration struck. He had equipment. He had a crew. He had the ability to film this scene the way it should be filmed - since obviously, Etienne St. Jacques couldn’t do it.
He turned toward his actors. “Are you guys okay? Really okay?”
“A little sore, but yes,” Yuuki said.
“Same here,” said Yo-ka.
“Do you think you could film the scene . . .here and now?”
The two looked at each other. “Are you serious?” Yo-ka said.
“More serious than I’ve ever been about anything,” said Uruha. “He wants a decent sex scene for his film, he’s going to get it.” He picked up the fallen camera from the floor and tested it. Glancing at the monitors, he could see it seemed to still be in good working order.
“Good thing they’re using one of the older models,” he said. “They’re tougher than the new ones.” He pulled out his phone. “Reita? You still somewhere in the vicinity of the movie set? Yes, the one we used earlier. Look, can you do me a favor? Can you come here and be my cameraman for a sex scene? I’ll explain why when you get here. Okay, good.”
“You’re seriously going to do this?” Yuuki said.
“When Mr. I-Am-So-Great gets here tomorrow, his sex scene will already be in the can,” Uruha said. “And then, maybe he’ll take me seriously and listen to me when it comes to filming the orgy.” He turned to the interpreter. “Tell the cameraman who fell he can go home for the evening - and have a couple of the staff find a ladder. A good, sturdy one. And find a couple of people who are willing to hold onto it while Reita is shooting.”
“All right, then.” The interpreter left.
Uruha walked over to his actors, put an arm around each and hugged them. “If you don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to,” he said.
“No, I want to do it,” Yo-ka said.
“Same here,” said Yuuki.
“Then go out to the club set and find a place to rest quietly until we’re ready for you,” said Uruha.
Outside the bathroom, a corpulent figure hiding in the shadows smiled broadly - the kind of smile that said, “Good, just as I planned it.” And then, he slunk out toward a back exit.
To Part 2
Chapter: Twentieth in The Camera Eye series. Links to previous installments can be found here Split in half because of LJ’s post limits; there is a link to part 2 at the end of part 1.
Author: Boots
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Porn industry AU, drama, smut, romance
Warnings: Male/male sex, polyamory, exhibition/voyeurism (since the characters work in the porn industry), flogging, dom/sub, spanking, sex toys, prostate massage
Pairing: Uruha X Kai, Yo-ka X Yuuki , Aoi X Kazuki (action is between the first two couples).
Disclaimer: GazettE/SCREW characters belong to PS Company, Lycaon belongs to Vogue Entertainment and Diaura belongs to Ains. I own the story only.
Summary: Uruha gets an offer for him and some of his actors to work on the “Lust” entry in a mainstream Seven Deadly Sins film series. It seems like the fulfillment of a dream - so why does he feel things are not quite right?
Notes: The Camera Eye turns the big two-oh with number of stories (not counting sidestories)!
It always seemed to Uruha that whenever chaos broke out in his happy little organization, it was always preceded by a “calm before the storm” period.
He should have known that things were going a bit too well at the moment. Saga and Jin had turned in their scripts for the first Yuuki and Yo-ka starring vehicles, and casting was in progress for them. Aoi and Kazuki’s new video was in editing, Nao was in the middle of doing the latest installment of the vampire series and the reality show graduates - Kouki and Ryoga - were off at a promotional event for their new video today. Yes, things were looking good.
He didn’t think much of it, then, when a call from his boss came through. “You’re not going to believe this one,” the boss said.
“Try me,” said Uruha. “I can believe a lot.”
“We just got a call from the office of Etienne St. Jacques. You do know who he is, don’t you?”
Oh, Uruha knew. Just because he was directing porn didn’t mean he didn’t keep in touch with the mainstream film world. “He’s the Seven Deadly Sins guy, right?” As in, an art-film-turned-art-tinged-mainstream director who was currently working on directing a series of films on that theme.
“Correct,” said the boss. “Now, as you know, he’s directed one film for six of the seven sins. On each one, he’s brought in experts to be his consultants. He’s got one sin left to go, and guess which one it is?”
Uruha tried to remember the other films in the series. Greed had been the first one, it had been a Wall Street drama which was a moderate mainstream hit and gained a couple of Oscar nominations. Gluttony was an indie-style film about an international cooking contest that had been a big hit at film festivals and snagged a trophy at Sundance. Pride was about showbiz and Envy the fashion industry; both of them had been successful with the “chick flick” crowd. Sloth was a stoner comedy and had become a cult hit among its intended audience.
Wrath had been the director’s jewel in the crown - a period piece about the Irish Republican Army, set in the ‘60s through the ‘80s, it had snagged a couple of Oscars, plus nominations for Best Director and Best Picture.
“The only sin he hasn’t filmed,” he said, “is Lust.”
“Bingo. Well, he’s decided to use consultants from the porn industry to help on this one. And somebody told him that nobody makes better gay porn than the Japanese.”
The boss’s words sank in, and Uruha blinked. “Us? He wants to use US as his consultants?”
“Not only that, he wants to use some of our actors in the film.”
“But . . . but there’s a language barrier! He’s French, he doesn’t speak Japanese! Okay, he may speak English, but our actors don’t speak that, either! I mean . . . have you HEARD Ruki try to speak English?”
“He’s going to speak to us tomorrow,” the boss said. “He’ll be over here at 10 with his interpreters.”
“Can’t we send him over to Hard Candy?” Uruha said.
“And let them get the prestige?” the boss said. “No, we’re going to at least hear him out. If his demands are unreasonable, we’ll send him packing. If what he says sounds good, though . . . it would be a feather in our cap. And think of the contacts he has in mainstream film, Uruha. Not just in Hollywood, all over the world.”
Uruha sighed. His boss knew damn well he wanted to be a mainstream film director - and it was a dream he’d never let go of, even though he was, admittedly, happy doing what he was doing.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll talk to him.”
“Excellent,” the boss said. “I’ll tell him it’s a go, then.”
Uruha hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. Great. Just great. Why did he have a sinking feeling this was going to turn into a big, fat “What did I just get us into?”
* * *
The director was, of course, fashionably late. Uruha wouldn’t have expected anything different from an arty type. He blew into the boss’ office like a hurricane, a rotund guy with a shock of shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, a bulbous nose and a sport jacket that looked like he’d slept in it. He held out his hand to shake, then pulled it back when he remembered he was expected to bow instead. He was flanked on either side by two Japanese men in severe suits - the interpreters, Uruha surmised.
He spouted off a long stream of French, accenting it with elaborate gestures of his hands, glancing around the room to take everything in. When he paused, the interpreter on his left said, “We are very pleased to be here, we have heard that you make very good and very successful porn here. We see that you have won awards.”
Uruha and his boss exchanged glances, and Uruha spoke. “We won Japan Adult Video Association awards the last two years. Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay. Two of our actors also won awards.”
The right interpreter relayed Uruha’s words to the director. Uruha figured one was the “incoming” translator, the other was “outgoing.” When the director spoke again, he walked over to the awards to get a good look at them. In the middle of the speech, Uruha heard him said “A-O-I” - he knew those were the English letters that spelled out “Aoi.”
“Mr. St. Jacques said that he has heard of your great Japanese porn star A-O-I and he would like to have him appear in the film, along with the other great porn star Rucky.”
“Their names are Aoi and Ruki,” Uruha said.
“Mr. St. Jacques also would like to know who the two actors who won awards this year were.”
“They’re two younger actors - we work with them under a co-production deal with another company,” Uruha said. “They’re called Yo-ka and Yuuki.”
The message was relayed, and the director spoke again. “He said he would like to take them as well.”
“Take them? You’re not shopping for groceries, you’re casting actors!” Uruha said.
His boss put a hand on his arm. “Uruha, let me handle this. Mr. St. Jacques, it’s our policy that we don’t cast our actors, or let our actors get cast in anything else, against their will. It’s very important in this industry that everyone feel comfortable. Before we proceed any further, we need to talk to the actors.”
“And we also want a full description of the film and what parts they’d be playing, translated into Japanese,” Uruha said. “We also need a full description of the film before we agree to anything. We are very sensitive to how our industry gets portrayed in mainstream media.”
When the message was relayed, the French director looked thoughtful for a moment. He spoke at some length, and the interpreter said, “Mr. St. Jacques will gladly supply you with the summaries you seek. Only the film isn’t about the porn industry, per say. It is about the erotic journey of one woman around the world.”
“Is Mr. St. Jacques aware that we make gay porn here?” Uruha said. “That there are NO women involved?”
This made the director suddenly go into a long and expressive speech, sounding very passionate about what he was saying, waving his hands around. The interpreter said, “It is Mr. St. Jacques’ intention to make a film that is a rainbow of passion. All races, all genders, all sexualities. Your actors will be representing the beauty of male-male love.”
“Send over that summary,” Uruha said. “We’ll think about it, we’ll talk to our actors and we’ll get in touch with you.”
“I agree with Uruha,” said the boss.
The French director bowed. “If it is a summary you want, then a summary you shall have. Good day, gentlemen.”
Uruha watched the man and his interpreters leave. “He’s a blowhard,” he said.
“He seems sincere, though,” said the boss. “And he’ll at least treat Aoi with more respect than that action film crew did.”
“Don’t remind me of that one,” Uruha said with a shudder. “I really don’t know about this.”
“Just read the summary,” his boss said. “Give him a chance. The worst that can happen at this stage is we say no.”
Uruha nodded. He was right - it was still early in the process. They could still put the brakes on. He just had to make sure they applied the brakes before it became a runaway train.
* * *
The summary, Uruha thought, seemed legitimate enough. The central character was a young woman in the fashion industry - a secondary character in Envy. (Many of St. Jacques’ Deadly Sins films were interconnected - a minor character in one would be the lead in another). She journeyed to Paris, Tokyo and Milan on business, and at each stop had experiences that challenged her identity as a straitlaced, monogamous woman, until by the end of the film she was in a polyamourous relationship with a man and a woman, both bisexual, and open to other partners.
The notes also stated that St. Jacques was already consulting with an American director of mainstream porn for most of the film - Uruha and his crew would only be involved with the Tokyo segment, which dealt with the beauty of male-on-male sexuality.
Uruha was propped up in bed, iPad balanced on his knees, reading the description of the scenes in question to Kai. “She is in a nightclub when her eye is caught by two beautiful men on the other side of the room who seem to be flirting with each other. When they go off together, she follows them into a men’s room, sensing they’re not going to use it for its intended purpose. They go into a stall together, and she climbs up on a sink to look down and watch them have sex. Later, she spies another male couple making out on the dance floor. That night, she has a dream about a roomful of beautiful men having an orgy.”
Kai laughed. “He intends to get this into mainstream theaters? He’ll never do it. I’ve heard that in America, films with too much sex get slapped with an adults-only rating and can’t even be shown publibly.”
“It’s not without precedent,” Uruha said. “There’s been art films with explicit sex that got screened in theaters in recent years, like Nymphomaniac and Blue is the Warmest Color. But . . . those were art films. I’m not sure that’s what he’s going for here. It sounds more like a big-budget, higher-prestige Emmanuelle film. You know, late-night-cable softcore.”
“Maybe he intends to just kick up controversy with the theatrical release and then make money on the DVD.” Kai sat on the bed beside his lover and put an arm around him. “Then he’ll REALLY be like the real porn industry.”
“I just don’t know about this guy,” Uruha said, dropping the iPad to the bed. “He seems almost TOO enthusiastic, you know? Like he’s in love with the whole idea of porn, of making some kind of big-budget sex film . . .”
“They said he immerses himself in each one of the films,” Kai said. “It’s not every director who can do a historical drama, plus a chick flick, plus a stoner comedy - and make them all seem authentic.”
“That’s another thing,” Uruha said. “I mean, I can see being versatile as a director. It’s a good thing to be. But he seems almost . . . TOO versatile.” He lay back on the bed, arms over his head. “Maybe I’m just paranoid about the mainstream after what Aoi went through on the Dice film.”
“Hey, you have the best instincts in the business.” Kai stretched out next to him, resting a hand on Uruha’s stomach. “And if those instincts tell you that this is a bad idea? I’m sure it’s a bad idea.”
“But I’m not sure yet,” Uruha said, turning toward his lover. “I need to see him in action - on the set. Then I’ll know for sure.” He smiled. “He wants the Suicide Boys in his film, did I tell you that? He asked for Yuuki and Yo-ka. Those two don’t even like doing corporate porn - what makes him think they’ll do his movie?”
“Well, being in a mainstream film with porno scenes is a pretty rebellious thing to do,” Kai said. “Who else did he ask for?”
“Aoi and Ruki - but he couldn’t pronounce their names. And if this guy knows so much about us, and the business, why didn’t he know that?”
Kai kissed Uruha. “Get some sleep, love,” he said. “Think about it more in the morning. Talk to the actors, see what they say. And remember - whatever you decide regarding this guy, I have your back.”
“I know,” Uruha said. He sat up, grabbed the iPad and put it on the nighttable. “Have you ever thought sometimes about a bunch of us striking out on our own? Breaking away from the boss and setting up our own production company? Reita and I have talked about it a little, but just as something in the far future.”
“You’re seriously thinking about that?” Kai said.
“Just toying with the idea a bit,” Uruha said. “Not saying I’ll actually do it.”
“Another porn company?” Kai said. “You’re not going to try going into mainstream film?”
Uruha looked at the wall. That was the dream that had never quite died - standing before a wall of Panavision cameras, calling the shots on a blockbuster, or a potential Oscar-winner.
“Maybe,” he said.
And that was when Uruha realized that he did have to go through with this. If things went well with Etienne St. Jacques, if he made a good impression on him, he was pretty much guaranteed an “in” to the mainstream film world. That is, if he really wanted it.
* * *
“A mainstream film?” Yuuki said as he and Yo-ka made their way down a busy street in Shibuya. They’d just come from the Eros offices, where they’d talked to their boss there about doing new videos under the Eros brand in addition to what they were doing with PSC.
“That’s what Uruha said,” Yo-ka replied, holding up his phone. “It’s a guy doing films about the Seven Deadly Sins, and apparently, he wants us to represent Lust.”
“That is the last thing in the world I ever thought I’d be asked to do,” Yuuki said. “I’m guessing they want us to fuck on camera and little else?”
“Well, it is a mainstream film,” Yo-ka said. “We should get to do at least something besides fuck.”
“Does this guy even know what we’re about?” Yuuki said. “What kind of stuff we do? What . . .” He suddenly stopped in front of the window of a pet store, where an adorable tabby cat was playing with a ball. “Oh, look, they have him on display again.” He bent over and tapped on the glass. “Hello, there, precious. Hello. I wish I could take you home, but we don’t have a big apartment yet . . .”
Yo-ka watched, heart sinking. They passed this store all the time, and every time, Yuuki looked to see if that particular cat was on display. They were looking at bigger apartments - but even with the increased money they were making from the PSC deal, they still were not quite ready to move.
He replied to Uruha’s message. “How much is this director willing to pay?” He’d be in the film even if Yuuki wouldn’t . . . to get him that cat.
After awhile, Yuuki stood up, sighing. “I guess we have to go, if we have to stop by PSC,” he said - but he glanced back at the cat as they walked away.
They rounded a corner and headed toward the PSC offices, passing a big furniture store that specialized in furniture on the funky side - when Yo-ka suddenly stopped. “It’s still here,” he said.
“The bed?” said Yuuki.
“Yes.” Yo-ka leaned over, peering into the window. “It’s gorgeous. I would so love to have that in our bedroom . . . when we have a bedroom.”
The bed in question had posts (perfect for attacking chains with handcuffs) on either side of a solid headboard (good for a suction cup dildo). It was king-sized (which could accommodate anyone they brought home for playtime). But most importantly, it looked plain cozy - the kind of thing you could curl up on with your lover and watch TV, or just snuggle.
As Yo-ka gazed at it, Yuuki pulled out his phone. Okay, it was a one-time sellout. But it was highly unlikely his usual target audience would see this film, right? And besides, Yo-ka really, really wanted that bed - and Yuuki wanted to be able to give it to him (plus the bigger apartment to house it in).
He typed to Uruha, “If we were to do this film, what would this guy pay?” If it was enough for a bigger apartment and the bed, he’d do it - even if Yo-ka wouldn’t.
It wasn’t selling his soul in this case. Just . . . leasing it a little. And the cause couldn’t be better.
* * *
“You’re not going to do it - are you?” Kazuki looked over at Aoi as his lover drove slowly through the usual crosstown Tokyo traffic.
“After what I went through with Dice?” Aoi said. “That’s not happening to me again.”
“What did this guy ask for, anyway?”
“It’s apparently some kind of scene in a club, which leads to an orgy. Guess this guy wants me for the orgy. I don’t blame him for wanting a superstar like me in his film, but I’m not getting that homophobic shit again.”
“Club scene?” Kazuki suddenly perked up. “Do you think he needs a deejay?”
“Eh?” Aoi said.
“If it’s a club scene, and they need someone to deejay on camera? I’ll do it. I’ll audition for it. I haven’t had any good deejay gigs in awhile - this can help me.”
Aoi smiled at him. “Being in videos with me isn’t enough for you?”
“Aoi! You know how much I still want a club of my own!” Indeed, Kazuki still held the dream of being a pro deejay, of maybe even having his own nightspot when his time in the porn industry was inevitably through.
“This guy is going to give you your own club?” Aoi said.
“You know what I mean!” Kazuki said. “It’s exposure. Exposure!”
“I’m a stripper and a porn star,” Aoi said. “I know about exposure.”
“Just . . . I’ll ask him, okay? I’ll ask him if I can audition for the deejay part.”
There was a pause. “You really want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Kazuki said. “I do.”
They pulled into the parking lot of the building, and rode the elevator up to the floor. Aoi walked into the office, and straight up to Uruha’s desk.
“I’ll do this guy’s film,” he said. “But on one condition - he uses Kazuki as the deejay in the club scene. That’s non-negotiable - no ifs, ands or buts.”
“Aoi!” Kazuki said, eyes sparkling.
Uruha smiled to himself. “All right,” he said. “I’ll relay your demands to Mr. St. Jacques.” He’d already relayed the Suicide Boys’ salary requests - and when he’d reported the numbers to them, he’d gotten a reply of, “I’ll do it - but only for HIS sake” from each of them.
Well, that settled most of the actors, didn’t it? Uruha was pleasantly surprised. Now, all he had to do was find out this guy’s shooting schedule so he could arrange it around his own . . .
And, hopefully, shake this feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
* * *
The club scene was the first to be shot. Uruha stood in the back of the room, watching the crew - six times as many people as he usually worked with - hauling scenery into place. Huge, Panavision cameras - the kind Uruha dreamed of working with - were being pointed and focused. Etienne St. Jacques was at the other end of the room, peering at a bank of video monitors, having a conference with his assistant director.
Uruha was feeling a bit like a Little Leaguer hanging out in the Giants’ dugout. He was here as a consultant, to be sure - but so far, the director hadn’t done much consulting with him.
Reita, who’d been wandering around checking out what was going on, came up to him. “Think they’d notice if we stole those cameras?” he said.
“Just a little,” Uruha said. “I wonder just what he’s doing over there.”
“St. Jacques? Dunno, when I tried to get over there his assistants shoved me away. You might have better luck - you’ve been consulting with him, right?”
“Not really,” Uruha said. “All the meetings I had with him - he didn’t really ask any useful questions. Nothing about how we set up sex scenes, the best angles to shoot at, things like that. He just wanted to talk about . . . him. How he came up with the concepts for this film, how he worked with a handpicked writer, that sort of thing.”
“He met with the actors, though, didn’t he?” Reita said.
“Briefly,” said Uruha. “As in, he came into a meeting with them and looked them up and down like he was inspecting racehorses. Oh, and he was fascinated with Yuuki’s pink hair, for some reason. He said it made him look like a ‘rebel firebrand.’ I’m hoping that was just a bad translation.”
“How many of our guys got dragged into this thing, anyway?” Reita’s eyes followed a particularly huge boom mike as it was lowered over the set.
“Six,” said Uruha. “He asked for Ruki, Aoi, Yo-ka and Yuuki. Kazuki’s deejaying in the club scene and he got added in for the orgy, and when the director said he needed one more guy, I asked Byou.” He shook his head. “Orgies are difficult to film for experienced porn directors. This guy is never going to be able to handle it without extra help.”
“So? It’s why he hired you, right?”
“I don’t know if he wants me to help . . . or if he just wants me as window dressing. You know, give the illusion of the production having real ‘cred’ by having a two-time award-winning gay porn director as consultant.”
“Hey, be glad you’re giving people cred,” Reita said. “Some guys would kill for that.”
Etienne St. Jacques finished up with his assistant and began to make his way over to Uruha and Reita, translators in tow. He pointed around the room and spouted off a stream of French, which was translated as, “Mr. St. John says we will film the nightclub scene first - people dancing, making out, and the heroine seeing the pink-haired man and his partner giving each other the eye. Then . . . we will film the actual sex in the men’s room. It will be a glorious scene.”
Uruha knew how the scene went - Yuuki and Yo-ka getting it on in a men’s room stall, the heroine spying on them. “May I ask how it’s going to be filmed? Maybe I can offer advice . . .”
After the translator relayed Uruha’s words, the French director spoke with animated gestures, which got translated as, “Oh, I know full well how it will be filmed. Character viewpoint. Cameraman shooting the action from above. What the girl sees, the audience will see.”
Well, it wasn’t a bad idea - Uruha had used character viewpoint shots before for voyeurism scenes. “One camera? Or ones on the ground as well?”
“Just the one. We want authenticity. This is going to be passion - but artistic passion. Just you wait!”
“If you let me look at the set first, I can tell you how best to place the camera, and maybe you and I can have a talk with the actors . . .”
The older man waved his hand around as he answered, which got translated as. “No need, no need! Trust me, your actors will look glorious in this scene!”
“Mr. St. Jacques, with all due respect, filming a sex scene is a bit different than filming a bombing or a fashion show .”
“I understand,” the director said. “And if I need your advice, I’ll ask it. But I have a vision, you see? And I’m following through with that vision. Now, if you excuse me . . .” The translators bowed to Uruha and Reita, and they left.
Reita watched them go. “So much for you being a consultant,” he said.
“It’s all what I was afraid of,” Uruha said, rubbing his temples. “This guy knows nothing, and thinks he knows everything.”
“You offered to help,” Reita said.
“I guess I’ll just have to watch what’s going on, try to nudge this guy in the right direction - and look out for my people,” Uruha said.
His hunches of them having gotten into something not quite right were getting stronger. And Kai did say he had the best hunches in the business.
* * *
Hours later, Uruha felt like he’d gotten a real education in the other side of filmmaking. A rather thorough one.
Etienne St. Jacques spent a lot of time talking to his crew, moving cameras, looking at monitors, moving cameras some more, looking at the monitors again . . . then a discussion with his cameramen, then the soundman, then the cameramen again . . .
And when all that was done, it was time to shoot. And reshoot. And reshoot. He did something like 12 takes of his leading lady walking down the stairs and entering the club. He did even more of the scene where she watched Yo-ka and Yuuki flirting with each other from a distance . . . and then Yo-ka walked over to Yuuki and said something to him, dialogue the camera wouldn’t pick up. Well, okay, Uruha could understand that - there was a language barrier, the film was being made in English.
Still, he wondered why Etienne St. Jacques specifically wanted award-winning actors if they weren’t going to do anything more on camera than look pretty and fuck. Both of these men had done real acting in Datenshi Blue - their awards weren’t just for how good they looked and sounded when they had orgasms.
At least Kazuki got his on-camera time as a deejay. The director shot and shot him from about eight different angles, including closeups of him manipulating old-school “wheels of steel.” Still, Uruha couldn’t help but notice his star getting a little annoyed with having to do the same thing many more times than he had to with porn acting.
During breaks, his actors came up to where Uruha and Reita were sitting. “Having fun?” Uruha asked Yuuki and Yo-ka.
“I’ve never been so bored in my life,” Yuuki said. “Remind me to never sell out again.”
“I’m surprised you did it this time,” Uruha said.
“I told you - I have my reasons.”
“So do I.” Yo-ka put an arm around Yuuki. “We could see if there’s anything we can have fun with between takes. You know, stuff we could throw at each other, rolling chairs we could push around the room . . .”
Uruha smiled to himself. That kind of crackish activity was one of the most fun parts of working in porn - it was one reason why their fans liked the behind-the-scenes documentaries on PSC DVDs almost as much as the films themselves. “I don’t know if this guy likes that kind of thing.”
The director came up to the group. He spoke at length in French, and his translator said, “We will do one more scene of dancing in the nightclub, at the end of which we will film Natalia” - the main character - “following you to the bathroom. And then, the bathroom scene.”
They all knew what that meant - the sex. Yuuki and Yo-ka’s faces brightened. Finally, they’d be doing what they were used to.
“Mr. St. Jacques, if you have any questions before we do that shot . . .” Uruha said.
The French director frowned when the message was relayed to him. “I know I can ask you if I have questions,” he told Uruha. “But I told you - I have a vision for this in my head. I know how it’s going to go. If I need you, I’ll let you know.”
Uruha was starting to feel annoyed, verging on pissed off. Just what was he here for, anyway?
* * *
By the time they got around to actually shooting the sex, everyone felt like they had been on the set 24 hours. Maybe they had. Uruha had stopped keeping track of time.
It was an actual men’s room, which had been scrubbed extra-clean for this, because the director didn’t want anything “dirty, gross and ugly” in the scene. Yuuki and Yo-ka would be fucking in an actual Western-toilet stall - fortunately bigger than most, the kind that were built to accommodate tourists.
Etienne St. Jacques was going through his usual routine, although he was using just one cameraman for this, with a handheld camera. He’d already filmed the actress climbing up on the sink and peering over the edge of the stall. He was pointing upward and looking at the cameraman.
Uruha turned to the interpreter. “Isn’t he going to bring in a ladder for the guy?” he said.
The interpreter shook his head. “Mr. St. Jacques wants total authenticity. The cameraman will be positioned just as Natalia is positioned in the film - on the sink, leaning over the top of the stall.”
“But . . . that’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“You cannot argue with this man when he has a ‘vision,’” the interpreter said. “Believe me, I’ve seen it before.”
The director turned and said something to the two actors, and the interpreter said, “We will begin your scene in a few minutes. Just be ready to go when he gives you the signal.”
Uruha looked confused. “Mr. St Jacques, aren’t you going to give them instructions?”
The answer sounded rather annoyed, and the interpreter said, “Why should I? They know what to do. They’ve done it plenty of times before.”
Now Uruha crossed the line into full-blown pissed. This guy thought one sex scene was like all others? That all they had to do was fuck? Didn’t he know there were differences in tone, nuance, camera angles, the context of the scene in the whole video . . .
Well, dammit, if the great Etienne St.Jacques wasn’t going to do it, Uruha was going to take matters into his own hands.
When the Frenchman was talking to his sound man, Uruha walked over to his two actors, put a hand on each of their shoulders and leaned in close. They did the same.
“All right,” he said. “This is a quick rendezvous between two strangers - you can’t keep your hands off each other, there’s no time to wait to get to one of your apartments, or even a love hotel down the street. You have limited space to work with, as you can see, so keep your movements economical - small, but effective. Remember the camera angle - it’s going to be above you and slightly to the left. It’s important to let the camera see your facial expressions in a scene like this, so tip your heads back often - just be careful not to look directly at the camera. And remember that you don’t have to worry about cock shots or money shots - since this is a mainstream film, that’s going to be discouraged, anyway.”
“Can you direct the whole film?” Yo-ka said.
Uruha sighed. “If only,” he said.
Etienne St. Jacques was finished with his conversation, so Uruha backed off. “All right,” he said. “Places!” The word was said in English - Uruha understood it, and so did the actors.
They were going to be concealed in the booth for the actual filming. Uruha wouldn’t be able to see them - the action would be monitored exclusively by the bank of monitors by the bathroom door. Which, annoyingly, St. Jacques was blocking the view of.
“And . . . action!”
The door of the stall shut and locked. Uruha craned his neck to see what was on the monitors - which he couldn’t, just little glimpses. He could hear the sounds of passionate kissing, of heavy breathing . . . and it was a bit like being a baseball manager being forced to sit a game out while someone else coached his team.
He should be the one running this show, dammit.
All he could look at was the cameraman on the sink, leaning over to get the shot . . . leaning over a little more . . .
Leaning over too much, Uruha thought. His balance on the narrow sink was precarious as it was. If he kept on like that. . .
He yelled “Look out!” as the man’s feet left the sink and flew up in the air. By that time, it was too late.
* * *
One moment, Yuuki and Yo-ka were pulling at each other’s clothes, kissing passionately, running their hands over each other’s bodies. They were getting into it. They were in the zone, in that wonderful headspace where you forgot you were being filmed (except the tiniest part of your brain which remembered where the camera was) and just got into what was happening with your partner . . .
Yo-ka suddenly became aware of something wrong. It was . . . a shadow. Yes, something darkening the light above them . . . and then Uruha shouting, and. . .
He looked up and saw the guy falling. His first instinct was to protect Yuuki. He pushed his lover to the floor and shielded him with his body, taking the impact full-force himself.
“Oh, my God!” Uruha shouted. “Is everyone all right?” He pulled on the door - it was locked. Of course it was locked, it was part of the scene. He saw the heap of bodies sprawled on the floor - would there be room to get to them?
He ran into the stall next door, got down on the floor (thank God it had been washed) and crawled under it. “Guys!” he said. “Can you move?” He reached up and unlatched the door, pushing it open. Crawling back to the first stall, he walked out the door and stood in front of the stall where the actors were, holding out his hands to help the cameraman to his feet.
The man staggered out, saying “I’m sorry” in French-accented English. He looked at his director and repeated the words in his own language.
Uruha went back into the stall and grabbed Yo-ka under the arms, hauling him to his feet. “Oh, no, he really hit you, didn’t he?” he said.
“I’ll be all right,” Yo-ka said, reaching down toward Yuuki. “More importantly, are you okay, baby?”
“You REALLY have to remind me to never sell out again,” Yuuki said, letting Yo-ka pull him into an embrace.
“What happened?” Yo-ka said, rubbing his side.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Uruha said.
“I’m fine,” said Yo-ka. “Really.”
He glanced out at the other two - St. Jacques seemed to be haranguing the cameraman. “What happened is this guy doesn’t care about his crew’s safety. If that were me filming this . . .”
St. Jacques came over to the actors and said something. The interpreter said, “We are going to break. We will resume this scene tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Uruha said. “But they’re supposed to be filming . . .”
“Yes, I know, well, we can’t do that until we do this, right? Call is at 7 a.m.” And the director stormed off.
Uruha watched him go, a fury rising up inside him. The cameraman just stood there, stunned. So did the interpreter.
One of the crew members walked into the bathroom and said something in French. “He’s asking if they should take down the equipment,” the interpreter said.
Take down the equipment? Were they asking HIM that? Or the cameraman? Did it matter? Uruha couldn’t believe how this had gone. If he was in charge of this . . .
Suddenly, inspiration struck. He had equipment. He had a crew. He had the ability to film this scene the way it should be filmed - since obviously, Etienne St. Jacques couldn’t do it.
He turned toward his actors. “Are you guys okay? Really okay?”
“A little sore, but yes,” Yuuki said.
“Same here,” said Yo-ka.
“Do you think you could film the scene . . .here and now?”
The two looked at each other. “Are you serious?” Yo-ka said.
“More serious than I’ve ever been about anything,” said Uruha. “He wants a decent sex scene for his film, he’s going to get it.” He picked up the fallen camera from the floor and tested it. Glancing at the monitors, he could see it seemed to still be in good working order.
“Good thing they’re using one of the older models,” he said. “They’re tougher than the new ones.” He pulled out his phone. “Reita? You still somewhere in the vicinity of the movie set? Yes, the one we used earlier. Look, can you do me a favor? Can you come here and be my cameraman for a sex scene? I’ll explain why when you get here. Okay, good.”
“You’re seriously going to do this?” Yuuki said.
“When Mr. I-Am-So-Great gets here tomorrow, his sex scene will already be in the can,” Uruha said. “And then, maybe he’ll take me seriously and listen to me when it comes to filming the orgy.” He turned to the interpreter. “Tell the cameraman who fell he can go home for the evening - and have a couple of the staff find a ladder. A good, sturdy one. And find a couple of people who are willing to hold onto it while Reita is shooting.”
“All right, then.” The interpreter left.
Uruha walked over to his actors, put an arm around each and hugged them. “If you don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to,” he said.
“No, I want to do it,” Yo-ka said.
“Same here,” said Yuuki.
“Then go out to the club set and find a place to rest quietly until we’re ready for you,” said Uruha.
Outside the bathroom, a corpulent figure hiding in the shadows smiled broadly - the kind of smile that said, “Good, just as I planned it.” And then, he slunk out toward a back exit.
To Part 2