Emerald; Love Goddess of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police PART TWO

Emerald with C. Sanchez-Garcia



Ron showed up at the club a half hour later. Emerald had dressed and was sitting at a table with three other men.

“Hi Mike. Sorry, I’m late.”

Mike waved, reached over to the next table and pulled an empty chair over. “Emerald? This is my friend, Ron. He makes movies. More or less. Ron? Emerald.”

Ron reached across the little table stacked with pub glasses. Emerald squeezed his hand and smiled sweetly.

Until this moment he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. A buffed and painted mannequin, carved down and beefed up in the correct places, a male fantasy of a woman. She looked . . . defiantly wholesome. A womanly girl with powerful curves to be sure, but natural and unpretentious. Her face and smile were frank and open with none of the veneer of suspicion, or hard lines around the mouth he was used to seeing in women who performed in gentlemen’s clubs. Frank, straight farm girl brows over inquisitive cornflower blue eyes. She reminded him of the early Playboy playmates, “the girl next door”, but with a distinctive electricity, an invisible trail of pheromones that made you automatically turn your head when such a woman entered a room. She radiated sex without effort. He warmed to her instantly.

“I still haven’t seen your show,” said Ron. “I keep missing it. Sorry.”

“That’s all right, keep trying,” she said.

“But I know who you are,” said Ron. “I’ve seen you on the web a few times. Loved it. Loved it. Here.” He took a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

Emerald looked at the business card in her hand. She said she loved stripping and had been doing webcamming as well for a while, which she liked because of the one-on-one intimacy.

“This will be different,” said Ron. “There’s a script and story and acting. If it works out, we could be doing this quite a bit in the future. You can reach a lot of people this way.”

“I like the idea of reaching a lot of people, more than the money.” she said.

“Yeah, but hey,” said Ron, “Money’s nice too. Everybody loves money. That’s why they call it money.”

“Is that why they call it money?” said one of the young men.

“Oh,” said Mike, “Ron? This is Shane, Emeralds very special friend. “Shane? Ron.”

They shook hands. Emerald whispered in Shane’s ear. “I’m feeling hot. I have to be in bed by ten o’ clock, luv, or I’m going home.”

She looked at Ron. “How long do you think we’d be working together? Long run, I mean.”

“Well,” said Ron, “to be honest, the average on camera career of a female porn star is about two years. Guys last longer, but they get paid a lot less too. This will be my first movie, so you can get a percent of the profits. And if you like it, there’ll be steady work for a while. You’ll meet people, get some write ups, maybe go to the AVN and sign autographs in very high heels and a smile.”

“What’s AVN?” said Shane.

“Adult Videos News. It’s a magazine until it’s a convention. Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas!” cheered the table at once.

Emerald leaned in. “So what’s your movie?’

“ ‘Emerald –Love goddess of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’. Oh yeah!“

There was an eerie silence around the table.

Then Emerald brightened. “Shane! I want to be in it. You’ll be the camera man.” She pointed at Ron. “Shane’s my guy. No Shane, no movie.”

“A-okay,” said Ron, “I want my star to be happy.”

Shane raised his glass. “You’re on.” Emerald clinked glasses with him.


* * *

“I need more ass shots.” Said Ron, pacing the room.

Shane sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the last couple of minutes. Emerald sat on the floor, huddled under a blanket on a bear skin rug, drinking a steaming cup of tea. In a corner of the room, Andy was dressed in a bright Mountie uniform with a red jacket with brass buttons and a gold braid, and bright blue pants with English riding boots. He dozed against the wall with a broad brimmed beaver hat over his face.

Mike was dressed in a cadaverous black suit coat, with a curled waxed mustache, which he kept checking in the mirror. “Do you think I’d look good in a beard?” he said to Emerald. “Really. Tell me the truth.” She nodded and shrank down under the blanket. The room was colder than a polar bears asshole. She didn’t feel like chit-chatting. She loved the camera. She loved the presence of the men. She was in the zone. She was ready to keep going.

“It’s just there’s something missing,” said Ron as he went to the window. The house belonged to Andy’s uncle, as his summer home, but vacant in the winter. They were there on the condition that Andy be allowed to play Dudley, which meant he could go for the big sex scene with Emerald near the end of the movie. A very happy ending, as massage parlor girls called it.

“Are those railroad tracks?” said Ron. “Shane? Those are railroad tracks. You see that?” Shane put down the camera, and plugged it into the wall to charge. He came over.

“Sure are.”

“We should be out there,” said Ron.



“Mmm I’m about to come,” she whispered an hour later. Her eyes closed. She was firmly tied to the railroad tracks in the snow. She’d thought the room was cold. Shit. The room was an Arabian desert to this. She was naked. In the snow. On the tracks. The ropes were tied around her wrists in loops, but loose enough that she could reach her clitoris with her fingers. Her ankles were tied, but loose enough that she could lift and spread her knees and reward Dudley-Mike for showing up in the knick of time to save her. The whole business was weird, as though she had been astrally projected into a toy snow globe surrounded by strange people. The scratchy itchy ropes were laced three times under the swell of her breasts to lift them skyward like a push up bra made of rolled jute cord, and firmly tied down to the steel rails to keep everything in place for the overhead shots. The rough jute fibers chafed the tender skin under her breasts, until it would itch like a mad bastard and she couldn’t scratch. If I can make myself come like this, she thought, I can make myself come on demand anywhere.

“Take one!” yelled Shane. He leaned in and the camera was rolling.

Emerald reached down and buried her fingers between her legs. “Mmmm, I’m going to come. Snidley, you fiend. I’m going to come any second.”

She was interrupted by a cacophony of honking above them. Everybody looked up as a huge V formation of low flying geese past by them overhead. Down below the railroad embankment a red figure was jumping and stamping his feet to stay warm.

“You all right Andy?”

“Andy’s got clothes!” said Emerald. “Can we hurry this up?”

“The flock of geese cut you off,” said Ron. “We have to start over.”

Emerald rolled her eyes, her back was numb and the freezing rails were digging into her shoulders. She composed her expression and Shane brought the camera back up.

“Why can’t we do this in a studio,” she said, “or something where we can use fake snow?”

“Authenticity!” said Ron. “That’s what makes our movies different. We’re the for real guys. Like Jackie Chan, he does his own stunts. You’ll be the Jackie Chan of porn. Anyway, we don’t have the budget for a studio.”

She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about warming up later. “I think I need to pee.”

“Shouldn’t have had all that tea.” Said Mike.

“Can you hold it for a while?” said Ron. “Maybe we can use it, like a golden shower for Snidely when he goes down on you.”

“Shit!” said Mike. “She’s not pissing on me! I gotta bring this costume back.”

“Guys!” she whimpered. “Can we do this?” She took a deep breath and re-centered herself. Actually the idea of being “the For Real Guys” appealed to her. She could imagine having sex scenes in the strangest places. This could be good. Jackie Chan. She could do whatever sex act was requested of her without taking short cuts, whether it was dancing, masturbating or having sex on camera. But it wasn’t all that she aspired to. She paid a lot of attention to the energy she experienced when she worked. She had always done whatever she could, on stage or camera to feel her own pleasure and the sacred potential she found inherent in the act of sex. She wanted to transmit that energy, that sense of the sacred to the viewers when they saw her work. She wanted to reach them. Authenticity was always of utmost importance to her, even before Ron came around with these crazy ideas. With renewed inspiration she gave the camera a smile and slid her hand back down her body. The Jackie Chan of porn. This could work. They could be a team.

Having thought that, still, she really needed to pee soon.

She jumped as a loud bark came from a stand of pine trees.

A hound dog ran from the woods and up the embankment, followed by an old man in a cap, wearing a heavy checkered jacket, and carrying a big deer rifle. “Everything okay there kids? You see a deer come through here – Ho boy!”

He froze when he saw Emerald laying nude on the tracks. His eyes rolled up to Shane holding the video camera. “What kind of screwed up horseshit is this? This bunch of yucks giving you some kind a trouble there, honey?” He raised the stock of the deer rifle to his shoulder, and flipped off the safety.

“Hey-hey-hey!” yelled Mike. “It’s cool, it’s cool.”

The old man standing there, his eyes looking straight at her, for the first time Emerald felt terribly naked. She rolled her head, turned over and the cold steel against her neck made her jump. “I’m fine!” She smiled her sunniest grin and twinkled her fingers to the old man as best she could through the ropes. “We’re just having a little fun, I’m fine. No, really, I am.”

The old man lowered his gun and everybody let out a deep breath. “Hey,” he said, his eyes widening with revelation. “I know what this here is, you kids, you’re making a movie. That’s it, ain’t it? You makin’ some kind a girlie fuck movie. Ain’t I right?”

Emerald smiled again. She wondered if her lips were turning as blue as they felt. “Yes, sir, I’m the girlie.”

He pointed the barrel at the ground and scratched his head under his hunting cap. “Well, beat my meat and call me slappy. Ain’t that something, hey.” He brightened. “Now it wouldn’t cramp your style or nothing, if I was to just stand over this way and watch, now would it? I’ll be real quiet. I won’t say nothing.”

“Sure you can!” yelled Shane.

“Shane, you fuck, shut up,” hissed Ron.

“But you gotta stand back behind the camera, and be very quiet.” Said Shane. “I know Emerald,” he whispered to Ron, “This is good. Let him do it. Definitely.”

“Got it!” The old man scooted behind them, pulling his dog along, shy and contrite as a boy. He leaned in towards Ron and whispered in his ear with dark tobacco breath “Holy shit, ain’t she got some kind of a fine pair a bazooms, don’t she? I mean, hot damn look at ‘em sticking up there, just big as life. Goddamn.” He fell thoughtful for a moment. “You need any, uh, like men to volunteer for something, you know what I mean?”

Ron sighed. “Thanks. No. We’ve got that part covered.”

The old man nodded. “I’m just saying, is all. Snow on the roof, but fire in the furnace.”

“Quiet on the set!” yelled Ron. Emerald was straining against the ropes. “Ready?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” she chattered through clenched teeth. But the truth was, having the man there, a stranger, was affecting her. He was a genuine audience, not like Shane or Mike. He was watching her, and she felt herself relax against the cold. She thought of him, just over there, wide eyed with the power of her beauty and youth and waiting to see what she do. Thank god for him. Shane was right to bring him into the circle. She needed him to watch.

Mike put his black top hat back on and adjusted it forward. “Ready!”

Shane raised the camera, glanced at the red record light, held up his thumb.

“Action, take three,” yelled Ron.

Mike minced into the scene, walking on his toes, twirling his waxed mustache. “Hah! Emerald, my proud beauty. Now I have you in my power. At my very mercy! And I have no mercy!”

Emerald’s glanced over at the man with the gun. Yeah. He appreciated what he was seeing.

“But oh Snidely. You turn me on. You have me in your power Snidely. If you were . . if you were to take me right here . . . right now . . . I couldn’t resist you.” She moved her knees apart, saw the wide eyed man lean in over Ron’s shoulder. “If you made me come, right here in the snow, if you could just loosen these ropes for a moment – “

“Nell, my proud beauty – “

Ron gritted his teeth. “That’s Emerald, not Nell, you idiot.”

“Emerald, my proud beauty – “

“Cut, wait. Let’s do this again.”

Emerald squirmed on the frozen steel. Her back was really starting to hurt. One more take and she’d scream. She glanced past her arms at the snowy crushed granite. The snow was trembling and dancing. Pieces of it were dribbling off the pebbles. After a moment the pebbles began to dance. Her skin had been too numb to feel it before, but when she moved her shoulders, shifted her bare skin a little – there – she felt it now through the hard rails.

“Shane?” said Emerald.

“Her name isn’t Nell,” said Ron, “Her name is Emerald. I appreciate you’re getting into your character, but details are important.”

“Shane?” said Emerald.

“But I don’t understand what my motivation is,” said Mike. “I mean if I wanted to do her, why wouldn’t I take her to some place warm where I could do her a lot?”

“Because you’re Snidely Whiplash, that’s why. I want authenticity. Authenticity.”

“Ron?” said Emerald.

“Well, if I’m Snidely fucking Whiplash, why isn’t she Nell?”

“Why the fuck is the ground shaking!” yelled Emerald.

The men stopped and looked down at her. “Wah?” said Mike.

The old man was looking off in the distance. “Boys.” He set his gun down slowly in the snow at his feet. “Boys.” He raised his arm like a prophet, pointing down the tracks. “Boys, we got us a little problem.”

Emerald turned her head to see what they were seeing. It was coming.

“Get me off? Get me off? Please? Get me the fuck off these tracks.”

“Ah, man,” said Mike. “Here comes a shit load of authenticity.”

Shane raised his camera, took aim and let it roll. Snidely-Mike fell to his knees. “Hang on, hang on.” He fumbled at the ropes but his bare fingers were numb. It was like trying to undo a knot wearing baseball gloves. His top hat slid off his head and the wind carried it away. “Jesus Christ.”

“Get me the hell off these tracks! Hurry!”

Andy in his Dudley suit came slipping and sliding up the railroad embankment. He threw himself on his knees and began yanking at the cords. Far off the train sounded its hysterical scream of power. Now Dudley and Snidely were both climbing over Emerald’s nude body and cursing while Shane rolled the camera. Andy’s Mounties’ hat fell off. He ignored it, grabbed a knot in his teeth and snarled and pulled. “Is this authentic enough for you?” yelled Mike, as Ron joined in the pile and began tugging randomly at the ropes.

“It’s a simple knot,” he whimpered. “It’s a simple fucking granny knot – why’s it so fucking tight? Who tied this thing so tight?”

“Come on guys! Please! Please! Don’t stop!”

“Nrrrr!” Dudley snarled, and gnawed at the knots with his teeth..

“Wait! I got it! I got it now!” The old man sprinted over reaching a hand under his coat. Suddenly he pulled a huge hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. “Look out!” he plunged in beside them. Down the tracks the train was close enough to read the call numbers under the cabin windshield. The horn blared again.

The old man’s deer knife was finely honed. It cut through the ropes like spider webs. Shane and Mike jumped off the tracks, Andy and Ron grabbed Emerald by her ankles and arms and leaped for their lives.

The train thundered by, its horn blasting a long braying note as they tumbled down the embankment, tangled in each other.

“Ah!” screamed Emerald. “oh my God oh my God! Oh. Oh, wow.” When the boys looked up she had her hands squeezed tight between her clenched thighs and a huge monkey grin. She curled up into a ball, panting puffs of white steam.

“Are you all right, honey?” Said Shane. He put his arms around her, and held her tight, trying to warm her. “Man, we’re going to get so many hits on Youtube.”

The old man was picking himself up, dusting off the snow and looking around to see where his knife had fallen.

“I just came,” she said. “That was the biggest Big O I ever had.”

“You’re kidding,” said Ron. “You had an orgasm? And we didn’t get it on camera?”

“It was huge,” she said. Her skin was flushed pink from top to bottom. “I never felt anything like it ever. I feel like I just got my brains fucked out by angels. It was God. It was cosmic. It was huge. It was the fear, because I thought I was going to die there. It was the emotion. I think I’ve discovered my new turn on. I’m going to use it on stage. Railroad track sex!”



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