It\u2019s really hard to get fired from this place. Like, nearly impossible.<\/p>\n
Yet here I, Oliver Shephard, sit, shocked, paralyzed in my car after two security guards escorted me to my third-level parking-garage spot.<\/p>\n
Fired because it appears I bilked the company.<\/p>\n
I did not!<\/p>\n
It was that shady freelance photographer who, through some set-dressing chicanery, used the same photo session, featuring the same nude model who happened to be my discovery. He sold two versions of the photo set: 1. to the magazine publishing company from which I was just axed; and 2. to a competing girlie zine.<\/p>\n
I drove the gal to the studio is all and stuck around in case she needed my assistance. Sure, I was pictured in the background\u2014disguised with a wig and a false Vandyke beard (the \u201cJohnny Depp\u201d)\u2014but I didn\u2019t get paid for that. I was an innocent bystander is all, thrilled to be part of the creativity, observing. I observed a thing or two about the business end of a cock all right.<\/p>\n
Still, the bosses fumed about the money and suspected I was embroiled in it. They found a way to let me go. Budget cutbacks, my ass. Cut loose from the ad accounting department where I\u2019d worked for almost two decades.<\/p>\n
I sink low in the bucket seat, so stunned I\u2019m unable to drive away.<\/p>\n
I reminisce, picturing the urchin, doing handstands near the garage valet parking station on a Friday two years prior, before the guards had shooed her away.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019d spotted her again in the grocery store parking lot later that same Friday, spinning cartwheels and walking on her hands, backpack splayed on the asphalt, strawberry ponytail dangling off her pale, slender neck.<\/p>\n
Lugging a bag containing a jar of Ragu, spaghetti, red wine and still-warm garlic bread, I approached her. She accepted my invitation; I think because she saw the wine.<\/p>\n
At my apartment, Nellie inquired about my workplace and the types of magazines it published.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I hemmed, \u201cthe subjects range from guns to nudes.\u201d I mentioned how a couple titles featured amateur modeling \u201ccontests\u201d with cash prizes.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me more about those,\u201d Nellie said, sipping wine. \u201cAnd the prize money. I turn 18 next week.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t touch her that night\u2014\u201cDon\u2019t even think about it, bud,\u201d she told me\u2014or any other night or day.<\/p>\n
Even though I let her stay with me for about a month, free.<\/p>\n
But Nellie had no problem posing for Polaroids. A day after her birthday, we shopped at Frederick\u2019s of Hollywood, then I snuck her into the office ladies\u2019 room that evening.<\/p>\n
She was a natural! Super limber. She and the camera had a mutual love. A few wardrobe changes were made. As we wrapped things up with some shots of her pissing on the floor (for the kinkier pages), the cleaning woman\u2014Luisa or Luz\u2014walked in on us. Oops.<\/p>\n
Nellie and I presented the images to Darlene, the company\u2019s talent coordinator. She enthusiastically accepted the photos for publication and cut a check.<\/p>\n
That got the ball rolling. Next came a hot photo session with a naughty-school-girl vibe, followed by one with a bondage theme, which went over big. One of the in-house photographers put a call in for me, for us, booking Nellie for a video solo scene. I went with her, as friend\/manager, watching the action as I snacked at the craft services table.<\/p>\n
Soon, Nellie found another place to stay. No more urchin on my sofa. I think a bigwig from the adult video company took her in. Not long after, she signed a contract and became known as Hadyn in the pornosphere.<\/p>\n
Good for Nellie and Hadyn. I didn\u2019t really have any hard feelings about being left behind, or used, or whatever. That\u2019s showbiz.<\/p>\n
That little taste of showbiz crackled under my skin, though. I really felt a purpose in launching her career. A career. A new life.<\/p>\n
I wanted a new career, a new life, a new something.<\/p>\n
I started posting flyers onto cosmetology academy bulletin boards. Then I placed notices in college newspapers. Universities, state, city, even private colleges. The classifieds were stacked with ads promising big-money compensation for ova donation from \u201chealthy young women.\u201d So, my \u201cAmateur Female Models Wanted\u201d post stood out among fertility banks.<\/p>\n
Boy, did my work extension blow up! So many calls that sometimes they were accidentally routed to the actual talent coordinator. Often I scheduled two to three Polaroid appointments a day. I was really burning the midnight oil, ha ha. Luisa regularly found me sleeping in my cubicle, slumped after catching up on my data entry or a modeling session in the stairwell with\u2026 Janice, or Morgan, or Sugar.<\/p>\n
My coworkers noticed the difference in my focus, avoiding me, rarely inquiring about my welfare or my disheveled, greasy appearance. I think they\u2014and Human Resources\u2014were surprised that Oliver Shephard, onetime employee of the month, went so far with this \u201cside hobby\u201d as a talent manager.<\/p>\n
That last thing never actually took hold\u2014the women generally tired of me after about a month. Some of them (Maybe Janice? Morgan?) drifted back into school after getting their dough. Quite a few latched onto established porn agents or producers or minders, the types who\u2019d take the magazine editors out to lunch with a couple of porn starlets. Allegedly, under-the-desk blowjobs were a common practice.<\/p>\n
HR was really surprised when such a goon showed up to threaten me! Seemed one of my discoveries\u2014Sugar\u2014didn\u2019t like that I was at her bukkake video shoot. What ingratitude! Not too sweet, Sugar. Well, my coworkers hadn\u2019t known my life was so spicy outside of being a reliable administrative assistant. Although the \u201creliable\u201d part eventually gave way, as work shifts got eaten up fielding calls from Bruin or Trojan coeds.<\/p>\n
So, I got a strong warning about getting tasks done during office hours. But it was such a thrill to get a call from a honey-voiced young lady, initially a little hesitant, yet eventually persuaded to show her private parts for cash, so she could buy a school parking pass or some textbooks. I photographed one student who told me, while reading the classifieds, she seriously considered selling her eggs, until she saw the disclaimer statement that the required hormone shot \u201ccould cause cancer.\u201d I believe she chose her opportunity wisely.<\/p>\n
Once, when Darlene stepped out of her office, I snagged a large box of business cards from her desk drawer. Eventually HR also had an issue with me misrepresenting my role in the company, but I didn\u2019t see passing out cards as a problem. Christ, I wrote my phone extension and OLIVER SHEPHARD on the back of each one to minimize confusion. I made so many connections with young women on campuses that way, either handing cards to them directly in the commons or leaving stacks in the dorms. Some gals reacted to my overture with a shudder of disgust, but it was all worth the multiple rejections to witness the faces of a few individuals recognizing a good opportunity in the palm of their hands. Even if the messenger wore hairpieces.<\/p>\n
I made short campaigns inside and outside nightclubs. Outside mostly, waiting in brisk temps for women stumbling out at midnight. There I\u2019d be, their pumpkin coachman with the Johnny Depp glued to my face, passing out business cards. Didn\u2019t get many takers, but I did get some Polaroids of buxom blondes pissing in the alley, steam rising from the pavement. Art! Those pics are keepers in my sizable personal photo collection of models and their two forms of ID\u2014all preserved in my cherished set of archival memory books.<\/p>\n
The corporate bean counters think I got a kickback for the girl spread I arranged. They\u2019re wrong. Like I said, the photographer sold the company a so-called exclusive, but sold it again, also as an \u201cexclusive,\u201d to another magazine house. The photographer got double the money, and I didn\u2019t see any.<\/p>\n
Because my focus was on each woman I discovered, on the women.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I pat myself on the back.<\/p>\n
When they fired me not even two hours ago, I fired back with a giant white lie, telling them Nellie, now famous as Hadyn, had been underage in those Polaroids they bought, and I was trigger ready to send proof to the FBI.<\/p>\n
Well, then they ended my employment with a good severance.<\/p>\n
Still, that won\u2019t last forever. I\u2019ll have to give up my bachelor pad, move to Canoga Park and live with my mom, and let go that woman (Magda? Marta?) who\u2019s been taking care of her. Polaroid film doesn\u2019t grow on trees. So many economic ripples.<\/p>\n
But in the Valley, I\u2019ll be in the thick of the porn industry. I need to make some real business cards. Without business cards, I\u2019m just a creep.<\/p>\n
Someone\u2019s tapping at my window. I know the shapes in my peripheral view are the garage attendant with another security guard behind her. I close my eyes.<\/p>\n
More tapping. I hear a muffled, \u201cTime to leave, Oliver.\u201d<\/p>\n
I zoom in on the attendant. Her badge says DANICA. Danica has manicured nails and her brown flesh is luminous in her white uniform shirt. Her neck is smooth and elegant, leading to a sultry face. I think of a brand-new photo book in my apartment, ready for fresh Polaroid entries.<\/p>\n
From my console, I fish out a business card and pen. I scratch out the embossed phone number and the defunct extension on the back where I\u2019ve already written OLIVER SHEPHARD and put down my mother\u2019s digits.<\/p>\n
When my car starts, Danica and the guard back away, a bit of their tension melted.<\/p>\n
Rolling down the window, I call out, \u201cDanica,\u201d waving her closer.<\/p>\n
Approaching cautiously, she stops at arm\u2019s length, bending to meet my eye level.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could be a model,\u201d I say, holding out the card between two fingers like a boss. \u201cCall me if you\u2019re interested.\u201d<\/p>\n
Steering to the exit, I glance in the rearview and see Danica studying the card in her palm. I feel hopeful seeing her consider the offer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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