The Grinding Halt
#23 of Confessions of a Gay Porn Star
*
Yaaaawn. Getting up at seven to be in my prettiest shape so that I would be at the studio at nine for today's shoot was not my favourite part of being in this business, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so there I was, a bit bleary-eyed, a can of Red Bull in my paw and scratching my belly and just standing around while the fluffers carried around things like oversized prop dildos and you just had to mind your own business and try to rev up your mind for the act of soon-to-be porn shooting.
It wasn't going to be much of a set-up - just Lance (that's me, Jimmy, lol!) and this tiger guy getting busy. We were gonna shoot in the communal shower that adjoined into the performer's locker room, so we were gonna hog up the space all day, kinda. That's why I had taken my most thorough shower at home, already, including a very careful washing of my important assets, lol, if you know what I mean. I was gonna be doing the topping today (woot!) but the script Max had issued included a lengthy scene of trading mutual oral pleasures, so it was good to be all nice and clean. Musky balls were nice, sure, let alone your taint, but if you were dirty...bleh...not while having fun, and especially not while in the office.
Guh. A wiff of cigarette smoke reached my nose and made me cringe. I was glad that my co-star today, Jones-something, wasn't a smoker. That smell was so hard to get off your fur. The smoker soon appeared from around the corner in the corridor, Derrick, the bull who had already starred in no less than twelve Moo(re) Daddy films for Blue Paws. My tail made a kind of a flip-flop when seeing him, too, considering that he was seven feet tall plus horns, a big beefcake daddy who strutted around like he owned the place, on or off the set.
We exchanged polite nods of hello and I took a sip from my can in the hopes that I would feel a bit more energetic once my co-star showed up. I'd never worked with this Jones-someone, so it was going to be a bit different, like it always was. Had to find out the right things to do, to make it look good without giving the guy too much pleasure, and still making sure that it appeared like we were in the throes of extreme pleasure and passion. A bit of (porn) movie magic in the making, I guess, lol,
Sssssluuurp.
"No fucking way."
"Goddamnit...."
"Fucking hell."
My ears perked at the sound of somewhat muffled, low voices, coming along the corridor accompanied by stomping pawsteps. I looked about to their direction to see what was going, considering that the voices belonged to Max, the polar bear producer and director and operator of this business, and his partner Jock, the horse who got his kicks out of doing the actual filming. The two appeared into my line of sight, seemingly agitated, both scowling, paws flying about.
"...disgrace..." Jock muttered.
"...the clients are not gonna be happy..." the polar bear replied.
I leaned on the wall and tried to appear like I was minding my own business, but it didn't really work. The two stopped right in front of me, and the puffy-muzzled polar bear gave me a long stare and a snort.
"Lance," he grunted. "The show's off."
I made a face.
"Not filming today?" I said.
"Nada," Jock neighed.
"Something up?" I asked, scratching my belly.
"Someone over DickSuckStudio tested positive and they're shutting everyone down," the polar bear slurred.
Fucking damn. I really didn't need to be explained what that meant. Someone in the business had HIV, and that meant that the health authorities were doing what they always did when something like this happened. No mucuous membrane was going to touch another until everyone was tested and re-tested clean.
"Oh shit," I said.
"Talk about it," Max snorted, "Gotta go and stop Petey and his gang. They're probably just about starting their own shoot."
"So this is going into effect immediately?" I asked.
"Until further notice," the polar bear said, "you can go. Nothing's gonna be done today. No fucking today."
No paying the rent, then...
The two continued down along the hallway, obviously planning to go to Studio One to tell the furs setting up there to delay the fucking, and I was left to my own devices.
Shit! I hated when this happened. This was my third scare during my career, and it had always been so much crap...all the bloodtests and the questionaires and lectures and the bad rep on the press...we were just doing our jobs here...we took precautions...tests...condoms...I hadn't done a bareback scene in what...half a year? I'd played safe in my private ventures, too, I got tested regularly, I was alright...
...but to think that someone in the industry could have been spreading the bug...someone...hell, even Derrick...or whoever it was...they'd contact those who they'd identify as potentially exposed...
This was not gonna be a good day.