Grumble
#13 of Confessions of a Gay Porn Star
** ***
"Hello, Jimmy!"
"Hi, Owen," I rumbled as the big polar bear carefully enclosed me in...you guess what...lol...
"Hello," the polar bear said as he patted my back and then moved away from me to give me some space, "how's it going?"
"Well, you can see," I snorted as I brandished my crutches.
The big bear wearing the loud Hawaii shirt gave me quick once-over and then nodded.
"Still sore as shit?"
"Not supposed to do anything with it for a few weeks," I grunted, my tail tapping the flagstones, "so no work either."
"Oh damn..." the polar bear shook his head. "I think this calls for a drink."
"Thanks, dude."
The polar bear's house was like it always was - well air conditioned, bathed in sunlight through the windows, and with a fully stocked bar that soon provided me with an iced something that tasted like strawberries and what was probably vodka and a hint of lime. The tall glass felt cold against my palm, which was extra nice, too, of course, as I received it on my throne, the big leather armchair in the living room. Owen flopped himself down onto the big couch on the opposite site, a strange Hawaii-colored polar bear with a martini glass and well-groomed toenails on the massive footpaws propped on his armrest. His head rested on a pile of nice pillows which probably made him feel extra cozy there. An iPad was on the little table by him, and I suspected that he might've been doing stuff on it before I arrived.
"So, what did the doctor say?" Owen made the question I'd been waiting.
"My knee's busted from too much working out and I'm supposed to take it easy," I huffed. "That guy prescribed me more pills and told me to take it easy and stop doing porn."
The polar bear chuckled.
"Think you can really bust your knees by fucking?" he bellowed. "I don't know..."
"It's not the fucking, it's the being fucked on my knees," I grimaced at the memory of that session that had finally caused my knee to pop and sent me popping pills and going through multiple ice packs per day, "irritated the...I don't even know what it's called...men...mens...something."
"Still sounds like shit to me," the polar bear declared.
"Don't I know," I lapped up some of the drink and wondered whether I was supposed to be drinking in the first place either with all the pills I'd been prescribed, but maybe I wasn't going to blow up my liver with one drink. It was a nice drink, too. A bit pink, but nice.
"So no work?"
"I had to cancel my shoot," I said, "Max is not happy."
"Bet not," Owen opined, "he doesn't like surprises."
"Unless they're sexy," I grunted, "crippled porn star isn't sexy, I suspect."
"You've got too many limbs for that, yeah," the polar bear observed.
I snorted.
"Now that's one niche he hasn't done yet, I think," I replied.
"The competition from Israel is too hard for that, apparently," Owen mused, "they've got so many amputees that they pretty much have a monopoly on cripple porn now. We can't compete."
I shook my head.
"Feels more like that I can't compete," I snorted.
Owen sipped his drink delicately and let out a small "aahhh" out of his huge muzzle before he licked and smacked his lips to enjoy the last taste of vermouth.
"You'll get back to shape in no time and back to shooting," he said, "give it a couple of months and you'll be banging away as usual."
"That couple of months means no-show for Daddy Knows Best Vol 54 and Leather Schlongers 13," I said, "they're going to recast."
Probably with someone more buff and with a bigger cock and with two working knees.
Sigh.
"Well, Max and Jock have to keep the business going," Owen noted. "It's never about just one performer. There's never a shortage."
But it used to be about me. Videos could be sold with the slogan 'Starring Benny Thicker'. Wasn't this the case anymore?
"I'd just really need the work," I said, "It's been getting more quiet recently."
"I've only filmed once a month all year myself," Owen replied, "I've had to do a few stage gigs to make the ends meet."
"You did?" I asked. I hadn't really heard that Owen would do that too...live appearances, that was.
"Don't look at me like that, Jimmy," the bear flicked his ear at me, "I know what a man's gotta do when a man's gotta earn his living."
Well I sure hope that didn't mean going all the way and resorting to outright escorting, like so many guys did if they wanted to really tap onto the big cash that came from selling 'famous on porn' ass to hungry perverts.
"Well I can't do that either, can I now?"
Owen chuckled.
"Guess you need two knees for being a proper go-go lion," the polar bear proposed.
I snorted.
"So that's what you do huh?"
"I suppose that's what it's called when I stand there on stage in my gear and let furs ogle while I play with my junk," the bear shrugged, which looked like an avalanche on the couch when he did that.
"Hmm..."I scratched my sweaty belly, "I guess, yeah..."
I'd done some of that. Stripping and stuff. That much I could do. It was good promotion. Never let anyone buy my ass, though. I'd seen some guys go through that route and get a bit more whacked up every time. Prostituting myself on HD video was one thing, fucking for cash was another. I'd never thought doing that.
Honestly.
Porn star swear.
"A hundred and fifty bucks a night might not be much but that's still one bill paid," Owen chuckled, "can't let Angelo pay it all, of course. He earns much more than I do, of course, but there are a few things worse in life than a man who can't make the ends meet. And I don't want to leech off my sweet Angel...he already gives me so much, anyway."
Hearing him talk about the tiger was always a treat, in a way. Their love seemed real, even in the midst of Owen's career, and its various facets. They seemed to be able to deal with it and all that came with it. Sometimes I felt kinda envious. It was almost unheard of, for me.
"I can understand," I said.
We sipped our drinks for a few moments before Owen snorted again.
"Well at least quiet that glum face, Jimmy," Owen beckoned. "It doesn't suit you very well...it makes you look older..."
Ugh. I hurried to look as young as a guy of 35 could. I even tried smiling. Hope that didn't create lines around my eyes. I'd been commented about those a couple of times.
"Sorry," I said, "It's just a bit...you know...hard..."
"It's how this job goes," he said, "as long as you can work, everything's fine. If something happens, then you're on your own."
"In the soup kitchen if nothing comes up soon," I grumbled, "I've got bills coming up, and I don't want to take too much out of my emergency household fund..."
"At least you've got one," Owen said. "Seen so many who didn't even try and then they were kicked on street."
How nice. The street. That wouldn't do good for my furs, or the gym opportunities.
"Well you've seen a lot," I huffed.
Owen waved his paw.
"Yes, I know I'm old," he said.
"You're not old," I said.
"Forty-seven," Owen replied snappily. "That's pretty old in the business."
"Prime daddy age," I said. "You're one of the biggest stars of the studio in your own right."
"In the daddy niche, maybe," he replied, "or the BDSM range, maybe. Or leather...I don't know...they're not the most popular ones, of course. You need young tight asses for the big VOD cash to come in. I sell a fraction of what the likes of Nick Roberts and Lycas Lustrous do. It's pennies for the studio in comparison."
"It's still good paychecks for you," I replied with a grumble.
"Two, three thousand bucks a month isn't much after you pay the taxes," he replied. "Nothing like back in the day when I shot up to five films a month. That was ten years ago, of course, but..."
Still better than what I'd been doing recently.
"Surely your back catalogue gives you something back."
"Does it give anything to you?" the bear grumbled. "You've done a hundred films, haven't you? Don't hear you boasting about getting big royalty checks every month..."
"Because I don't," I replied," because the contracts don't work like that."
"We're just the meat," Owen slurped down on his martini, "they pay us to fuck and then roll in the cash themselves. That's how it goes."
"Well how about your endorsement with that sex shop?" I recalled.
"That was only for two years, it ended last year," he said. "That money fixed our roof after that tropical storm."
"Oh, damn," I huffed.
"That's life for you, kid," he said.
Kid now? Lol. I wasn't a kid anymore...not that I wouldn't have minded but...
...well yeah.
I just smiled and toasted.
"For life, then?" I proposed.
Owen lifted his empty glass.
"For life!"