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Chapter 12 Things Change
“What’s this,” I asked when Corrine threw the Star down on my desk then dropped dejectedly into a chair? It was a little before ten in the morning on a Tuesday. Corrine had just gotten back from the World of Fitness. She had rushed out without changing. My wife looked mighty fine in her spandex shorts and sports bra. There was a sheen of perspiration on her shoulders. I find that highly erotic.
I picked up the paper and looked questioningly in her direction. She had been crying. I’m not a newsperson other than sports and business. Corrine reads the Star start to finish each morning on the elliptical trainer.
“It’s the lead story,” she said looking worried and upset.
I read the headline out loud. “Mobsters gunned down in broad daylight.”
“Just read it, for Christ sakes,” said Corrine.
I was stunned by the first sentence. Alvin Timothy Quarles and Lawrence Morgan Taylor had been killed when they exited an office building in downtown Indianapolis. The office was reputed to contain an illegal gambling operation.
The police were searching for the killers but there were no witnesses. According to the detective in charge of the case, the murders bore the hallmarks of an organized crime execution.
The article further stated Mr. Quarles was alleged to be the head of a multi-state gambling organization that grossed several hundred million dollars a year. Mr. Taylor who had served three years in prison for felony assault had been arrested twice for murder but never indicted or tried. He was alleged to be second in command of Quarles’ organization. The article went on to quote rumors Chicago’s organized crime lords had been seeking to expand into Indianapolis. The article postulated friction between Mr. Quarles organization and the newcomers had led to the murders.
There was a gruesome picture of a small man and a large man lying on the sidewalk in pools of blood.
“My God, we’re fucked,” I said. “The police will find the DVDs.”
“Why, they made us do it. We’re not to blame,” said Corrine reaching for a tissue from the box on my desk.
“I’m not sure the law would agree with you,” I said. “If the police get those discs, they’ll trace them back to us in a matter of hours. The press will have a field day with the story. Local businessman and wife make porn films for mobster using gambler’s wives. We’d be ruined. It would draw national coverage.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Corrine looking dejected. “It would be easy for them to trace the discs to us.”
“It’s our building, our sets, and our equipment. Like I said, we’re fucked.”
“So what do we do,” asked Corrine?
“Go see Marvin. Get ready for the worst. Maybe we can arrange for me to be the one who goes to prison. Keep you out of it.”
“I’m just as guilty as you are,” said Corrine.
“That’s not the point,” I said. “I got you into this.”
“You really think Marvin can help us,” asked Corrine?
“Not personally, he’s a contracts lawyer but he’ll know someone who can.”
The question I didn’t ask Corrine was how she felt about the prospect of not having sex with Morgan and the others. Her tears said a lot. There was also the related question of how much I would miss my role in our three some. I’d developed a passion for burying my face in Corrine’s sperm soaked pussy.
But avoiding prison was a far more serious matter, so I put off the sex issue for now. Based on what you read in the press, prison would mean lots of sex but not the kind I looked forward to.
***
That afternoon Corrine and I spent a half hour in Marvin Phelps’s office describing our relationship with Al Quarles. Marvin had been my lawyer since I took over Carter Graphics. We considered him a friend. At his suggestion we only gave him the bare bones of the story.
“The less I know the better,” was his comment after I told him it involved Corrine and I making pornographic films for the recently deceased Al Quarles to use in intimidating gamblers who owed him money.
I tried to leave out the part about Corrine’s involvement but she wouldn’t have it.
“We worked together. It wasn’t just Tom,” said Corrine correcting me.
“How were you involved, Corrine” asked Marvin?
“Mainly I worked off camera as a fluffer; but I was also responsible for props,” said Corrine.
“Props, what kind of props,” asked Marvin?
“Lubricant, dildos, and lingerie, Morgan wanted the women to be dressed like they were in a porn film. So I had to have hose and garter belts in different sized and colors,” said Corrine.
“Morgan, who’s he,” asked Marvin?
“Al Quarles second in command, he was killed with Quarles. He was in charge when we made the films,” I said.
“You mentioned fluffer, Corrine, I’m not familiar with the term,” said Marvin.
“Sometimes the guys couldn’t get an erection, especially if they had already climaxed more than once. I provided oral sex to restore their hardon,” said Corrine in the matter of fact tone you would expect from someone who performed fluffing duties for seventeen porn films.
Marvin was obviously not a man of the world. He looked confused and even pained before he spoke. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re telling me.”
Corrine became explicit. “I got down on my knees and sucked their cocks until they were hard. They then took said hard cocks and stuck it in one of the orifices of the female who was the star of the gangbang film,” said Corrine. “Sometimes they stuck them in me.”
Marvin could only manage an, “Oh, I see.” Then he was quite for a while before he spoke. “The best man for this kind of case is Scott Reynolds; but there might be a problem given the situation and some of the things that transpired between you and Quarles’ men,” said Marvin.
I asked, “If Scott’s the best man, what’s the problem?”
“Ah, this is difficult,” said Marvin looking pained.
“Just tell us,” I said.
“Scott Reynolds is black. It might be embarrassing given what occurred during the production of your adult films,” said Marvin.
Corrine reacted quickly. “Marvin, the situation is far too serious to worry about being embarrassed. I was the fluffer. I performed sexually in whatever way they required. If Scott Reynolds is our best shot at staying out of jail, I don’t care if he’s an Eskimo.”
“All right, I’ll call Scott and set up a meeting,” said Marvin.
***
Our first meeting in Scott Reynolds well-appointed offices had been brief, less than ten minutes. After I wrote a check for fifty thousand dollars as a retainer, we sat down with Scott and staff.
Corrine had googled his name before the meeting. He was another one of those almost too handsome black attorneys who had developed a reputation for winning tough cases for guilty people. I suppose you’d call him the Indianapolis version of Johnny Cochran.
“Nice looking guy,” I remarked looking over Corrine’s shoulder at the screen. She shot me a look but we left it alone.
The staff turned out to be a young male attorney, Carl Price, a female attorney, Nancy Turner, and a paralegal named Oscar Pearson. Nancy was a very hot looking black woman in her early twenties. She had a terrific figure her tight business suit and short skirt didn’t conceal. Carl was a tall lean type who had once played professional basketball and Oscar reminded me of a nice version of Morgan.
We seemed to be on a streak when it came to meeting good looking black people. Scott’s tastefully decorated office and strictly business attitude impressed Corrine and me.
Scott dropped a question as soon as we provided a brief summary of our predicament. “Do you have any of this material in your possession, any video whatsoever?’
“Yes, we have the unedited raw footage and a copy of the final product we gave Quarles,” I said.
“Where is it,” asked Scott?
“At home, I have an editing computer in our home office. The most recent one is on the hard drive and the others are stored on DVD,” I said.
“Nothing at your place of business,” he asked?
“No, nothing, we couldn’t risk our employees finding out,” said Corrine.
“Please be sure, it’s very important,” said Scott.
We thought a minute before we answered Meade Media was clean. Corrine and I made a point of taking absolutely every frame we shot for Quarles out of the building. During filming, I’d made sure all the digital video was written to a single hard drive and we double checked to make sure we had erased it after we transferred it to disc. Once that was done, I reformatted the disc so it couldn’t be recovered.”
“All right, I want you to go immediately to your home and get every scrap of video you shot for Al Quarles and bring it here. I’m sending Oscar, our resident computer genius, with you.”
“You want us to bring it here? Why,” I asked.
“Assume for now a team of FBI agents will soon search your house and place of business looking for evidence. I don’t want them to find anything to connect you to Al Quarles.”
Three hours later, we arrived back at Scott’s office. All my backups and discs, even the hard drives out of the computer were in a box Oscar sat on the conference room table at the start of our second meeting.
***
“You made seventeen of these for Al Quarles,” asked Scott picking a disc at random out of the box and handing it to Oscar who inserted it in his laptop and got busy with the wireless mouse.
I almost panicked as the wall-sized screen flickered to life. There was Corrine on top of Morgan fucking her brains out. Sweaty, working her nipples, and riding him for all she was worth, it wasn’t where I would have chosen to start. Scott had picked one of the discs I made for Corrine and me to watch during postproduction sex.
“Fuck me, Morgan, you beautiful black bastard. Fuck my hot white pussy,” blared through the surround sound as Oscar adjusted the volume.
At that point, I couldn’t identify which particular film it was. However, it was one of the later ones because yours truly appeared on screen naked with an erection. Nancy gave me a look that made me want to hide under the table.
“I thought you said the films featured wives and girl friends of people who owed Al Quarles money,” said Scott looking surprised.
“This was filmed before the female featured in the film arrived. Morgan always came at least an hour earlier to have sex with the two of us,” said Corrine demonstrating she was better able to handle the embarrassment than I was.
“He came early to have sex with the two of you,” repeated Nancy looking straight at me. “Was it consensual?”
I resisted the urge to confess I was a disgusting pervert who got off watching black gangsters fuck his beautiful wife. Instead I said something stupid that caused everyone including Corrine and me to laugh. “He was carrying a big gun.”
“Given that Al Quarles and Morgan threatened to castrate Tom and cut off my breasts, I’d say it was non consensual at the beginning. However, once it was underway, things acquired a dynamic all their own,” said Corrine looking not the least bit embarrassed we were watching her fuck her brains out. It was one thing to watch the action alone in the privacy of our bedroom. Watching it with Scott and his staff was a whole different ball game.
The so-called dynamic was on full display in high definition video five few feet away. I was on the bed licking Corrine’s clit while she rode Morgan. His hand was massaging my balls. The pad of his thumb was pressed against my sphincter.
“We called it the inevitability factor. If rape is inevitable, you might as well lean back and enjoy it,” was all I could manage as the camera came in for a close up of Corrine holding Morgan’s cock for me to enthusiastically suck. Nancy wrote something on her legal pad.
“So you are gay, Tom,” asked Carl? It seemed a dumb question since he was watching me both eat pussy and suck dick.
Before I could answer Corrine came to my defense. “Bisexual would be more accurate. We both are. I had sex with the women,” said Corrine. “Tom performed orally only with Morgan but in a limited fashion.”
“Limited fashion, how so,” asked Nancy?
“Morgan always ejaculated inside me,” said Corrine.
“And Tom went down on you after Morgan finished,” said Nancy looking at the screen where Corrine was straddling my face and jerking my cock. It was obvious what I was doing.
“Nancy, I’m not sure this is relevant to the issue at hand,” said Scott.
“Only to determine the degree of consensualness,” said Nancy standing her ground.
“I think it’s safe to say it began on a non consensual basis. However, Morgan was an excellent lover and I found myself attracted to his bad boy persona,” said Corrine. “It was an aspect of my personality I wasn’t aware of until I met Morgan.”
“I discovered watching Corrine have sex with Morgan and the others turned me on. Performing orally on her after he ejaculated in her vagina also proved to be erotic,” I said borrowing some nerve from Corrine and looking Nancy straight in the eye. “Until Al Quarles came into our lives, we were a very straight monogamous couple.”
“May I ask why you made a video recording your encounters with Morgan since they weren’t to be part of the final product you provided to Mr. Quarles,” asked Carl?
“We liked to lie in bed and masturbate while watching,” said Corrine matter of factly. After we watched, we had great sex.
“I’m starting to envy your sex life,” said Scott. “Now who is the female?”
My standard porn opening was on screen. An attractive blonde woman was in the bed working a dildo/vibrator into her vagina. Standing around the bed were six black men stroking their hardons.
“Her name was Tricia,” I said recognizing the blonde with the augmented breasts. She was the one who looked most like a porn star. Outside of Cheryl the virgin, she was the best looking.
“Tricia Melons, we called her. Her last name was Simpson, I think. We weren’t supposed to know but sometimes they told me,” said Corrine.
“We’ll need you to help us identify each of the seventeen females involved,” said Scott.
“We’ll do the best we can,” I said.
“Were any of them younger than eighteen,” asked Nancy.
“Yes, that’s very important,” said Scott reinforcing Nancy’s question.
“No, most were in their late thirties or early forties. Cheryl the Virgin was in her early twenties,” I said. “She was a student at Purdue.”
“Cheryl the Virgin,” questioned Scott?
“Her name was Cheryl and she was a virgin,” I said. “In her case, it was her father who owed Al Quarles money. He owns Whitaker Chevrolet.”
“A college girl,” said Carl expressing disbelief.
“May I ask how you determined Cheryl was still a virgin,” asked Scott.
“I put these two fingers in her vagina. Her hymen was still intact,” said Corrine holding up the two fingers she’d used to examine Cheryl.
“It’s on the disc. I filmed the interior of her vagina. There was a membrane of tissue an inch inside her opening,” I said being a showoff.
“You captured her deflowering on video,” asked Nancy?
“Yes, Kelso took her virginity. He was the member of Jerome’s crew with the biggest cock,” I said.
You have all this on DVD,” asked Scott gesturing toward the box of DVDs.
“Yes, it’s in there,” I answered.
Scott and his staff exchanged puzzled looks then he spoke. “Assuming this disc is representative of the others, let’s watch it to the end. Then we should have a better idea of where we stand.”
“It’s representative,” said Corrine.
From somewhere I recalled the girl sex between Corrine and Tricia was incredibly hot. Both women had gone at each other like panthers.
For the next fifty-five minutes, we watched Tricia Melons perform. No one said much as Tricia and her six black partners progressed from simple blowjobs, vaginal intercourse in the missionary position to the more exotic positions with multiple partners engaged in multiple penetrations.
“Was it painful,” asked Scott? We were watching a scene where moments before Tricia had loudly demanded, “Double stuff my whore’s ass, motherfuckers.” With the aid of a couple of pillows, Jerome and Jamal had tilted her into position and managed to get both their cocks in her anus. My close-ups were excellent. And the open hole shot when they pulled out to reveal the lighted interior of her rectum was something any director would be proud of.
“Not really once you’ve been sodomized several times,” said Corrine speaking from experience. That caused the men to look hungrily in her direction while Nancy made more notes. I wondered if Nancy had ever been double stuffed.
The next scene was of Corrine and Tricia having sex. They energetically performed orally on one another then employed a number of different sex toys including the insertion and withdrawal of a string of anal love beads. At some point, Jerome’s six joined them and the result was two sets of triple penetration. Once again, my hand held camera video was intermixed with clips from the robotic cameras producing cock-hardening results.
Scott’s conference room table was glass. The fact Scott, Carl, and Oscar had erections and were having trouble keeping their hands off their dicks did not go unnoticed by Corrine or me. I would have loved to slip my hand up Nancy’s skirt and see if she needed fluid in her differential. Nobody spoke a word as we watched the two white women and six black men engage in various forms of multiple penetrations. I half expected everyone to strip for a lawyer’s orgy; but we managed to stay in control.
The final shot was my standard, captured mostly by the overhead camera, Tricia getting a facial from the six, swallowing as much jism as she could catch in her mouth.
“Wow, that was really something,” said Scott when DVD finished.
“Do you have a background in pornography, Tom” asked Nancy?
“Absolutely not, until Al Quarles came into my life, I never considered making porn,” I said.
“Tom was a videographer in the army,” added Corrine. “We ran a respectable commercial media business.”
“And you were never involved in the porn industry either, Corrine,” asked Nancy.
“Never, I taught school until I joined Tom’s business,” said Corrine.
“You say this was not the DVD you gave to Al Quarles,” asked Carl?
“Correct, if you took this and edited out any appearance by Morgan, Corrine and myself you have what we gave to Quarles,” I said. “Those are in the box, too. We gave Al Quarles a single copy. Of course, he might have duplicated it.”
“In the DVD, Tricia certainly looked willing,” said Carl. “Was she?”
“No, not really, she was kidnapped and threatened with disfigurement if she didn’t make it appear she was eager to service Jerome’s crew,” said Corrine.
“How did he threaten to disfigure her,” asked Scott?
“Morgan said that if she didn’t cooperate, he would cut her breasts open with his switchblade and take out the saline pouches,” said Corrine.
“Ouch” said Scott. “The important thing is the DVD appears to be consensual.”
“They all appear consensual to varying extents except for the one with Cheryl the Virgin. It was only near the end when we went down on each other, she showed any real enthusiasm,” said Corrine.
“Fat Lois cried throughout the performance but was enthusiastic nonetheless,” I said. Corrine shot me a dirty look for mentioning Lois’s weight problem.
“Can you imagine showing all seventeen of these to a jury,” said Carl wistfully?
“Court TV’s ratings would go through the roof. But it’s our job to make sure it doesn’t happen,” said Scott. “I have one final thought and it’s more of a question. What motivated Al Quarles to engage in such an elaborate scheme? I should mention I met Mr. Quarles briefly on a number of occasions but he was never a client.”
“I honestly don’t know. Corrine and I speculated he was bored with sticking a gun in their mouth and threatening to cut their balls off,” I said.
“It plays to the white man’s fear of the black man’s superior virility,” said Carl. “Look, loser, your wife went crazy over these black men. She can’t get enough. That was why it was important they appear willing, even eager.”
“Who says black men are great in bed,” said Nancy smiling at me? “It’s bullshit.”
“Oh well, we may never know. Keep our number with you at all times. If the police appear, say absolutely nothing and call us immediately.”
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