Scam #18,754

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Fiction: Scam by Irvine Welsh

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I get off the flight, into a taxi and down to the pub. Rab’s there with a couple of student mates and loads of equipment. Betacams, DVs, eight-mil cameras, a monitor, sound stuff and lighting. He introduces the students as Vince and Grant and I let them upstairs.


Our set is minimalist: a load of mattresses on the floor. As they set up the equipment and the talent starts to file in, the air is crackling with excitement. My heart skips as Nikki dances in, stealing up to me and purring: — How was Amsterdam?


Excellent, more of which later, I smile, turning to wave at Melanie as she walks in. My second leading lady is a very sexy girl — in the sense of a deep-sea fish supper being exactly what you want on occasion — but hardly haute cuisine. She should be beautiful, but economic and social circumstances have made her handle herself differently to Nikki. When I start to think like this, I thank the Lord I’ve got an Italian mother.


My cast, my crew; and what a bunch they are. Apart from Mel, Gina and Nikki, there’s Jayne her sauna-hoor pal, and the Swedish (or is it Norwegian) lassie Ursula, who isn’t as good-looking as she sounds, but is a total fuck-machine. There’s also Wanda, Mikey’s hoor, who looks a bit deranged with her smacked-out eyes, sitting cross-legged in the corner. Myself, Terry and his shagger mates Ronnie and Craig are present. Rab and his student chums are looking a bit uncomfortable.

    It becomes evident in rehearsal that I am going to have problems with Terry and his firm. The sex parts they’re not too bad at, they get enough practice, but they don’t understand the difference between shagging for the camera and making a porn flick. Moreover, the acting is atrocious. Even the most rudimentary lines, and they are very fucking rudimentary indeed, are invariably fluffed. My idea is to build their confidence by starting off with what they can do. So we’ll shoot the sex scenes first, starting with the orgy, which is the end scene, but which will give them encouragement, and should help with building a sense of esprit de corps.


There are so many basic problems. I’ve cast Melanie in a teenage role, which should be roughly appropriate to her age. But I’m looking at her arms, with “Brian” and “Kevin” tattooed on them

— Melanie, you’re supposed to be an innocent virgin. Those tattoos need to be covered up.


She raises her eyes through a fog of Embassy Regal, then has a giggle with Nikki. That Gina’s looking around as if she wants to fuck, tear apart, then eat every person in the room. Trés game. ‘Tis a pity she’s a hound.


I slap my hands together for attention. — Righto, folks. C’mon, luvvies, c’mon. Listen! Today is the start of the rest of your lives. What you’ve done before is stag. Now we’re doing a proper adult movie. So the ability to get right into it, to stop and start is crucial. Has everybody learned their lines?

    — Yeah, Nikki drawls.

    — Suppose, Melanie sniggers.


Terry shrugs, in a manner that tells me that cunt has learned fuck all. I feel my eyes rolling and my head scanning the ceiling for inspiration. It’s as well that we’re starting with the shagging.

     Melanie and Terry are raring to go. The kit comes
off unself-consciously and Rab’s mates are busying themselves with the equipment.
I switch on one of the digital video recorders and pull out to get them both
in frame. Grant fusses a bit over the lighting, getting burn-out off the shot,
and Vince tells us that we’re running up on sound. — Action! C’mon, Tex,
take your cleaver to that beaver, I say, not that he needs any encouragement
in that direction, cause he’s straight on her, working her with his fingers
and his tongue. I zero in slowly, my intrusive eye on that slurping tongue
and that moist gash. She’s a bit stiff though, so I stop the action. —
You seem a bit tense, Melanie, love, I observe.

    — Ah cannae git intae it wi everybody watching, she complains. — It’s no like back in the pub whin wir aw gaun fir it.

    — Well, you’ll have to. That’s the porn business,
darling, I tell her. I watch Nikki looking at them, wanton and animalistic,
her sharp wee tongue flicking horn-salt from those slightly cruel lips, and
I feel a bit of inspiration. I can read a bitch like a book, and she is hot
for action. — Look, a new rule on the set. Either you take off your clothes
or you can fuck off downstairs, I say, unbuckling my belt.