That Exact Amount
May 15, 1987
Oh my god! Someone just called the Fotomat booth, asked if we develop nude pictures. I said, “I don’t know, but I can close my eyes.” He said a young woman would drop off a pack of photos and negatives. He didn’t want me to open the package in front of her, and he didn’t want reprints of all thirty, so he had to describe to me which ones he wanted. Then he asked me to repeat it back to him. I said, “A natural blond, spreading herself open with her hand. A dozen four-by-sixes, four five-by-sevens, one eight-by-ten. A platinum blond, older woman, doing the Texas Star . . . What’s the Texas Star?” Turns out it’s five guys standing around a lady coming on her.
“You have a nice voice. What do you look like?” he said.
“I have pig-tails.”
He asked about my height and weight and then he said, “Have you ever done any nude shots before?”
“Do you work for a company?” I asked him.
“Oh no, I’m independent. Are you interested? The pay is $1,000 a day, $3,000
if you have intercourse with other people. Are you interested?”
I am so excited. Not about the dirty pics, but about just, just . . . all the possibilities in life.
May 16, 1987
I told Rachel about it, and she said we should take our own photos. So we took the bus to Boston, where Rachel bought a $120 leather bondage getup and I bought a rope for four dollars.
“That’s not fair,” Rachel said. “You spent $116 less than me. All you got was the supplies.”
“This is no supply,” I corrected her. “This rope is my outfit.”
We showed up at Andrew’s and informed him of our intentions. He just said, “Oh. Um.” Then Rachel, with Andrew as her assistant, tied me up in Andrew’s bathtub, took photos, untied me and then we tied Rachel’s wrists to the showerhead. I tied her leg up so that her heel was touching her butt. Andrew tied me over a chair and took pictures while Rachel whipped me. Next, Andrew tied me and Rachel together. Circulations were getting cut off all over the place. Andrew made scary paper-plate masks and stuck them on us. The paper plates
did not turn me on in the least, but Andrew’s a real artistic type naked ladies or plain old SM would never be enough for him so I let him have his paper-plate way. It was our friend Jim’s twenty-first birthday, so we invited him over. We didn’t tell him why, we just said, “Bring your camera.”
Jim arrived three minutes later. At this point, alcohol was introduced, and Rachel and I got on Andrew’s bed, naked. My vision had become supernormal. I could see every soft brown hair on Rachel’s arms, each microscopic drop of sweat as it emerged from the pores, each individual muscle tense and flow beneath the skin. She and I have been almost-lovers right from the very start, when I met her in the high school cafeteria and took the lollipop out of my mouth and put it in hers. Rachel always gives me just enough so that I won’t really love somebody else (that way, I mean you know, passionately), and never any more than that exact amount. On the day I told her Andrew was my boyfriend, she cried, and that night she had a nightmare and sat straight up in bed and claimed that she’d eat my firstborn child!
“Well?” said Andrew, camera dangling. Jim hovered at Andrew’s shoulder, closely inspecting the ceiling.
“Well?” said Rachel.
“Well!” I said, and pushed her down and climbed on top. She promptly rolled me over and got on top of me. Rachel smelled of cigarettes and sweat and the last time she had sex. Normally she’s so clean. Now that the boys were watching, she had to go farther than the usual making out and holding hands and making promises. “Slow down,” I said. Then I re-stuck my tongue in her mouth slow, like I meant it, and moved my hand down her stomach slow and between her legs, and I could feel that she was confused. Andrew was getting pissed, but Jim said, “C’mon Andy, this is a once in a lifetime thing!” Jim’s camera was going click! click! Rachel and I did sixty-nine and everything. She really does not trim! I liked it, I think she’s really sexy, but I felt confused too. We can’t stand to be just friends, it doesn’t seem like enough, but I don’t think this is the right way either. It wasn’t like her hips were moving on their own, it was like she was telling them what to do. In bed, I want people to not even know what they’re doing to me. I want it to be like a jaguar ripping the neck of a gazelle.
Afterwards, Jim went home and Rachel slept on the floor (Andrew’s apartment is only one room) and Andrew and I on his creaky bed. Rachel made me promise not to have sex with him, and I didn’t, but he was trying so hard it sounded like we did, and Rachel wouldn’t talk to me the whole bus ride home.
2000 postscript: A few weeks later, Rachel and I decided secretly to have a threesome with Jim, but when we got to his house to carry out our plan, he was blowdrying his hair for a really long time. Rachel pounded on the bathroom door and he came out and roared at her. It was ferocious! We ran home, and soon I had my first threeway with two people who were not Rachel; she disapproved and, shortly thereafter, became rather conservative. We’ve been best friends almost our whole lives.
Lisa Carver and Nerve.com, Inc.