An Incident Halfway To Hell 5

As a child, Casey's angelic countenance caught everyone's attention; the OH's and Ah's that showered on him had been almost more than the quiet boy could handle and as a result he became extremely bashful in front of strangers. He overcame it to a certain extent by performing in school plays, and in the course of that got hooked on the idea that as an actor he could anyone he wanted. As a man his curly auburn hair and clear green eyes accentuated an exceedingly handsome, masculine face, yet his still somewhat shy, youthful charm was by far his best asset.

The Plaza catered to the well heeled, some famous, some not and while Casey was well aware that his looks had landed him this highly desirable job, he didn't rely on looks alone. He learned the job, giving it his entire concentration until he was as proficient as the best of them. It wasn't the glamour of working at the Plaza that drew him as much as the tips. The gratuities could run several hundred an evening which gave him the money needed to pursue his dream of an acting career. Up until then, not much had come his way beyond a few small parts in little theater groups, but with the Plaza job he could well afford the acting workshops and the vocal, dance and fencing classes - all in things he might need when his big break came along. He had stars in his eyes, then like a comet; Melva passed through his firmament obscuring all else.

Before long a tipsy Melva leaned against the polished mahogany talking to Casey while he absorbed her attention like a desert dry sponge. He learned that Melva swore like a sailor, yet could also be as attentive as a priest. She delved deeply into his life outside the Plaza, asking all the right questions and giving bits of advice. Casey answered in his straightforward, yet charming boyish way and by the end of the evening, he found himself invited to Melva's Bel Air home for a tour end party the following week. He couldn't believe it and neither could Peter, the head bartender that night.

"Don't get too excited Casey. Once she sobers up, she'll likely forget all about it." Pete was wrong. Two days later when he came to work, an envelope awaited him. It held an invitation with his name engraved and a separate little note from Melva: "Come early, around 7 PM if you can. There is someone I would like you to meet. Love, Melva"

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"Love, Melva": The words floated through his mind conjuring up erotic daydreams. The note was destined for his scrapbook of Melva memorabilia where it would lay nestled among the concert ticket stubs and programs that he had so carefully saved. An actual invitation with his name on it left him stunned, yet the little note meant far more to Casey. Dreamily he repeated the words, "Love, Melva."

The invitation said informal which left Casey wondering what would be considered informal in Bel Air? All he could visualize were Gucci shoes, silk shirts and Italian slacks, none of which he owned. He made do with his good black Florsheim's - a pair of gray wool summer weight slacks, and a pale lime hued dress shirt ala K-Mart. He topped it all with an old but soft haze gray sweater and as an extra precaution tossed a tie and blazer in the back seat of his car. He left far too early for his big night with Melva and then ended up driving around Bel Air for the extra forty-five minutes.

The gate man passed him through, pointing out the parking area and once there Casey followed a winding path toward the house. He climbed a long flight of steps to the verandah of a southern style mansion that looked like it fell straight out of a Margaret Mitchell novel, and stood for a moment wondering if there were people still living in houses like this anywhere but in California. At the door he was met by a manservant who led him across a vast entry hall, past a sweeping staircase lit by a crystal chandelier the size of a VW and finally to a side room where Melva sat talking to three men. They were an odd looking crew, one was short, round and balding, another old with nearly white hair, and the third a tall thin fellow that looked like he hadn't eaten in a month.

"Mr. O'Brian, madam." the butler announced. Melva jumped to her feet and dragged Casey into the room.

"See, what did I tell you? Isn't he gorgeous?" she seemed to bubble while Casey blushed under the stares of the three men.

"Casey, I'd like you to meet the 3M gang, Vitto Marnelli, John Martin and Paul Markey. Gentlemen, this is my newest find, Casey O'Brian."

Casey had barely said hello when the butler returned with another man, saying, "Mr. Brown has arrived." Melva left the room under a full head of steam, crying "Timmy! How wonderful to see you! Now let me show you what I want done. . . " Suddenly bereft of her light, Casey stood in awkward silence. The balding man arose and began circling Casey, looking him up and down.

"Take off your shirt." He said.

"What. . . ?" Casey responded, thinking he had misunderstood the man.

"Take your shirt off and while your at it, your pants too." Casey turning red, took a step backward intending to beat a fast retreat when the white haired man, John Martin, began to chuckle.

"Hold it Vitto! Casey - didn't Melva tell you what this was about?

Casey shook his head

"Just like her. Well it's simple enough. Vitto produces Melva's videos, She thinks you'll be perfect for an upcoming one, and Vitto just want's an idea of what you look like. Consider this a job interview."

"Oh." Casey said, "Well, OK. But can we at least close the door?" Maids were bustling up and down the long entry hall getting ready for the party.

"My, he's shy, isn't he?" the tall man said, "Well Melva will get him over that quick enough." but he did close the door and Casey stripped to his shorts.

"OK, you can get dressed now. Good body. I think you need more of a tan, but you've got time to work on that. Do you know any dance moves?" Vitto asked.

"Sure, all the regular stuff plus I had a couple of years of dance classes as a kid, ballet and acrobatics. I also square dance every chance I get."

Vitto laughed, "I doubt you'll need that. Square dance is, shall we say, a little too square for Melva. Modern dance might be better, but if can take direction we'll work it out. Melva said you're a fan so you know her videos. The one you'll be working on is a step beyond what we've done so far. The men will wear a sort of jock strap and nothing else. You OK with that?" Casey nodded. He wasn't ashamed of his body, he was hard, defined and well built, besides with Melva in the scene, nobody would be looking at him. Like all Melva's videos, those in the background were there to set the mood, not to shine.

It was some weeks later when Casey learned that Birchline Video, Melva's production company was actually a joint venture between herself and the 3M gang. He also learned that the 3M gang had other ventures outside of Birchline. The white haired man, John Martin leased commercial film and video equipment, sound stages and such, Markey was a lawyer with an extensive practice, and Marnelli a producer and sometime director. The three men together owned another production company: Stud films. Porn, both soft and hard, from titty flicks to XXX and in any variety that turned your key. Some they produced, some they bought, all of it however, made huge sums of money for the 3M gang.

That first day however he knew only that Melva had taken an interest in him and these men appeared to work for her. He got dressed before she returned and after a few quiet words with Melva, the three men left saying they would be back around nine o'clock. Casey then went off with Melva to greet the first guests of the evening -and learning to his dismay that he was far overdressed for this party. Evidently in Bel Air, or at least in Melva's little corner of it, informal meant near grunge. Casey saw shorts, worn Levi's, tee shirts and sweats, practically everything but Gucci, and to his eyes, the guests looked more like street people than well paid entertainer types. Only their speech gave them away and the manicured nails and the tinge of expensive perfume that permeating the air about them. In truth the help was far better attired. Several times that evening, Casey's well groomed appearance caused him to be mistaken for one of the catering crew, especially as the guests became increasingly snockerd.

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