The Enigma Rising

Simone stared into space while seated at the hotel bar. For several months the problems had always been the same, not enough income and unrealized career dreams. She was trying to slow down on her third drink, but she needed to get to a certain mental state before Spencer came and got her. As an undiscovered model, she knew that the tequila drinks packed more calories into her system than she’d exercise off, but she needed the alcohol numbness to be on demand for the pending photo shoot.

She’d left home, after graduating from university with her business degree realized, to follow her dream of modeling and possibly inroads to an acting career. She laughed bitterly, thinking back on her dream of doing modeling and becoming an actress, and wondered how she had ever thought the career move was viable. What’s that old Chinese proverb, she thought: be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

She continued trying out for modeling gigs, but there was always someone else chosen for the prime role. She was considered attractive with her mixed heritage of South American and Mexican with a tone just short of athletic. Her generous mouth and bedroom eyes, as one photographer had commented on her, had landed her some paying shots for lingerie. Her smile was charming, enhanced by perfect teeth, but her cleavage had been perfect without artificial enhancement. She wasn’t built like the rail thin models that most fashion photographers preferred.

She followed the shoots for all the spring and summer fashion lines from the South American to the North American coasts. Though her funds had dwindled significantly, she was able to travel with the other models for the selection process done at each of the shoots for filler models and the ongoing search that was done for new faces. The second and third tiered modeling positions did pay a little, but after the photo shoots there was always some photographer that asked if anyone wanted to make some extra money tonight. She lowered her gaze to the drink and sighed. At one point here in Acapulco, she’d needed some extra money, and that was how this slippery slope she was on had started.

The extra modeling money was usually for semi-nude photo shoots which were reasonably tame, but she knew if she wasn’t mindful it could lead to other modeling money that wasn’t tame. She had met Spencer at one of these shoots, and he’d promised that his connections could land her into a prime acting role. He’d struck up a conversation and empathized with her at one of her really low points, and she’d agreed to move on toward her goals. Now she was having second and third thoughts, especially after the impromptu breakfast with one of Spencer’s starlets this morning.

The starlet, Rita, had stated flatly that Spencer was an accomplished predator. Simone knew he was a beefy 99 kilograms at a mere 1.52 meters and always poorly dressed. His long oily black hair was thinning, and he was constantly trying to fluff it with his greasy hands. The scruffy, patchy mustache and beard thankfully covered up his unbrushed teeth and poor complexion. Yet he could entice people into adult entertainment venues by preying on their dreams. Males and females who dreamed about making the big time were always easy targets for Spencer and his adult entertainment machine.

Rita and Simone had discussed that Spencer was the writer, producer, and director of these films, and he had no shortage of voyeur clientele for his porno output. He had a gift of calming the natural fears of an unsure participant in the sexual scenes he dreamed up but wanted others to act out. The promise of money made the effort rewarding for the participants, but his ability to exploit the career dreams of these vulnerable people was his genius. Of course all the promised money never materialized, so the poor participants kept coming back to earn a little more money or maybe get discovered so they could get on with their lives and put this shabby episode behind them. Some did escape, but he’d set his trap to get Simone and keep her under his control.

Simone let one tear slide down her cheek for her role in taking a wonderful human experience and letting a deeply disturbed individual distort it with base, foul, and coarse intent to serve it up to a paying voyeur clientele. She had watched his productions. He had tempted her with minor cameo roles as he tried to seduce her into begging for a larger more graphic role.

His adult entertainment productions had become more profitable ever since he stopped trying to write himself into the script. The story, Rita related to Simone that morning, was that when he wanted a certain type of performance from a male on the set, he would pull down his own britches to give a demonstration. It should be noted that, in this of all professions, size REALLY does matter. But for all the attendees on the set it was all perfectly obvious that Spencer was desperately underpowered as a male, and the demo went limp so to speak. Before they’d parted, Rita suggested that Simone really consider herself and what she wanted and asked if this was the right avenue to choose.

Simone could see it was time for Spencer to show and discuss her role for the scheduled filming. She just couldn’t find the discipline in herself to face Spencer and his entourage of human junk. His two brothers-in-law had learned the lighting and sometimes ran the cameras when Spencer was helping stage the scene. That is, when they didn’t have their hands on each other. Their sister, Spencer’s wife, had died in bed when her cigarette set it on fire. If she hadn’t been so drugged up and drunk, she might have escaped alive.

The adult entertainment distributors, Bob and Estella, would be there too to see that their particular taste was captured in the production. They were always mesmerized when Spencer used the buggy whip prop in scenes, based on their preference for heavy S&M activity. She glanced down the front of her gown to see the almost healed bruise the buggy whip had left on her breast. A mistake, Spencer had reassured her. She needed the money, but all she was willing to do was another cameo role and not have to get close to the buggy whip.

The drink was almost gone, and Spencer hadn’t shown. Perhaps he’d been distracted, she hoped. Since he was late she thought she might return to her room and worry about finances tomorrow.

 “It looks like your glass is empty. Would you permit a stranger to buy you a fresh drink, madam?” Carlos smiled at the pretty lady. “My name is Carlos. If you will excuse me for being forward, you are stunning.”

Simone studied his face, looking to see if she knew the stranger. Their eyes met, and she could hardly believe that this powerful, good looking man who was tastefully dressed, was really addressing her as a lady. She realized she’d forgotten she really was one. Before Simone could answer, a heavy hand grabbed hold of her arm. She tried to pull away and failed.