“Uh huh,” Jake said. “Yet, despite all that, you’ll be pressing your naked body against Mindy Snow’s naked body, feeling those magnificent titties of hers pressing into your flesh, maybe having her put her hands on your ass while she’s sticking her tongue in your mouth?”
“Well ... yeah ... that is all quite likely,” Greg admitted.
“Have you seen those titties?”
“Well ... not in person, of course,” he said, “but she has displayed them quite shamelessly in her last few films. I might have had occasion to take a glance at them in that context. They’re quite attractive, I will admit, but when you come right down to it, Celia’s are much more appealing.”
That is true, Jake thought to himself, but of course he could not say this. Greg did not know that Jake had seen them in the flesh—and he never would. “That’s not the point,” Jake said.
“What is the point?” Greg asked.
“They’re still nice titties. Believe me, I know. And Mindy is a hot piece of ass. Are you seriously telling me that if she is pressed naked against you and sucking on your tongue and feeling your ass and you’re supposed to be thrusting yourself against her to simulate fucking her, Little Greg isn’t going to want to poke his head up and take a look around?”
“Little Greg? What does...” He flushed as it cleared his circuits and then shook his head sternly. “No, it doesn’t work that way. A sex scene is just another take of the action. A little more awkward than some, but still just a take. ‘Little Greg’ will keep his head down where it belongs.”
“If you say so,” Jake said doubtfully.
“I say so,” Greg assured him.
“Forget the sex scenes then,” Jake said. “I just want you to understand how devious, how conniving, and how ... well ... seductive she can be.”
“None of that can have any effect on me if I don’t allow it to,” Greg insisted.
“That is true,” Jake allowed. “But ... all the same ... I think I should tell you a little story about her, just so you can appreciate the depth of her scheming and the sheer complexity of her planning.”
“Okay,” Greg said.
Jake looked around again, saw no one within earshot. He then turned back to the actor. “A few minutes ago, when we were talking about my involvement with Mindy and Winslow’s divorce and his decision to waive the prenup ... well ... I wasn’t being truthful.”
“You weren’t?” Greg asked. “You’re saying that you did have something to do with their divorce?”
“I had nothing to do with why they got divorced,” Jake said. “I’m sure Mindy had been planning that long before I came back into her life. But I had everything in the world to do with why Winslow waived that prenup.”
“Explain,” Greg said.
“This needs to stay between us,” Jake admonished. “Laura knows this story, and the principals involved here know it, but no one else does. I want to keep it that way, for reasons which will become obvious.”
“You have my word,” Greg promised.
“Fair enough,” Jake said with a nod. He trusted Greg. “This happened when I was younger, and dumber, and ... quite frankly, drunker than I am these days. Still, I wasn’t a naïve person even then, and I fell into Mindy’s trap as neatly as could be. It started when I was flying back from New Zealand after I’d been there to take care of some business regarding my property and the house I was having built. There were no direct flights back to LA, only flights that stopped in Fiji, so I decided to spend a day there and relax on the beach a little, enjoy a little tropical sun.”
“Fiji,” Greg said. “That was part of the story, I remember. You and Mindy met up there by chance, right?”
“Right,” Jake said. “That part was true. It was a complete coincidence that we met up there. But we did. And that’s when the game started. We had some drinks together on the beach and ... well ... my better judgement sometimes takes a vacation when I’ve been drinking and, when that happens, Little Jake starts to make my decisions for me.”
“And Little Jake made a decision that day?” Greg asked.
“He did. I went up to Mindy’s hotel room with her and we spent all night getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies.”
Greg’s expression darkened a bit. “You were ... uh ... still with Helen at that point, weren’t you?”
Jake nodded. “I was,” he confirmed. “That was after the Jenny Johansen deal, after they arrested her skulking around Helen’s property with a gun, handcuffs, and a freaking blowtorch, so Helen was in the midst of her going nutty stage and we were having problems and we were well down the road to the breakup, but ... yeah, we were still together at that point.”
“I see,” Greg said.
Jake told him the rest of the story, omitting nothing. He told of how, after the breakup with Helen, Mindy had quite literally shown up on his doorstep one afternoon and he stupidly invited her in. A hot, torrid sexual affair developed in earnest at that point. Jake knew Mindy was married to Scott Adams Winslow, of course, but that did not stop him. Mindy displayed nothing but contempt for her husband. She openly mocked him on every occasion, deriding his skills in the bedroom, the size of Little Scott Adams Winslow, even his skills as a director. On one occasion, a New Year’s Eve party at the Winslow mansion, Mindy had even enticed him up into her very bedroom and fucked him on their marital bed while Winslow was downstairs entertaining the other guests. She then told Jake she was going to get Winslow to eat her pussy out while Jake’s spend was still marinating inside of her.
“That is disgusting,” Greg said, appalled.
“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I’m certainly not proud of that.”
He continued with the story, explaining how the climax (as it were) of the affair took place one night at the home of Darla O’Banion, Winslow’s personal makeup artist and the woman Winslow had been having an affair with for six months. Mindy had known about the affair and hadn’t given a shit. What Winslow had not known was that Mindy and Darla had been having a little affair of their own. Mindy had a touch of the bisexuality bug in her. She would not let women kiss her, or put their mouths on her in any way, and she would not do this for them, but she was not averse to having a woman touch her in a sexual way. And the word touch, as Jake found out on the night in question, covered a lot of territory. He and Darla had ended up double penetrating Mindy on Darla’s bed—Jake using Little Jake for his part, Darla using an eight-inch strap-on dildo for her part. At one point, Winslow had called Mindy on her cellular phone and she actually answered and had a conversation with him, all while instructing her partners to keep on fucking her.
“That is so incredibly depraved,” Greg said in awe as he heard this part of the tale.
“Yeah,” Jake said with a nod. “It was quite the experience.”
As it turned out, however, many of the private sex sessions between Jake and Mindy, and between Jake, Mindy, and Darla, were not really private. On multiple occasions, virtually every time they got it on anywhere besides Jake’s house, Paul Peterson, the sleazy paparazzi who had been hounding Jake ever since his first official relationship with Mindy, had been sequestered in a closet or some other place of hiding, snapping away with his Nikon.
“He took pictures of you and Mindy having sex?” Greg asked, horrified at the thought.
“Hundreds upon hundreds of them, I’m told,” Jake said. “Mindy had been planning this all along. She had been boning Peterson off and on for years, usually when she needed him to take some of his sleazy shots. For all I know, she’s still boning him. Anyway, he printed up the shots and gave them to Mindy. She gave them to Winslow when she told him she wanted a divorce.”