The Porn Star (Flash Eldritch Fiction)

The Porn Star
(Flash Eldritch Fiction)



He couldn’t stay married so he simply stopped getting married after his forth marriage. It was most difficult to keep a romantic relationship, romantic, ongoing while living this lifestyle, he’d tell you up front, even his wives he told up front,
“It's very hard, extremely complicated, if indeed, possible, matter of fact, statistics are against you, that is to say, the greater part of marriages no matter where you go around town, the state, the country, and perhaps around the world, maybe not including Bangkok, don't work, they just don’t work. Sad but true.”
“Why?” said his new and youthful girlfriend of 23, he being 57-years old at time.
“Very rarely do they ever last a long time,” he exclaimed.
“Because of your age?” she asked, realizing it took a lot to get him going, if not using Viagra, that is to say, he was limp at times: their relationship being less than a year old, it never dawned on her it could be familiarity. He emotionally got going, but physically it could be troublesome, if not at times a hard strain.
He was like the old Greeks, the Romans, the Asian societies, feeling man was not made to have one ongoing physical-sexual relationship, why in heavens name he picked out a heavy duty Judeo-Christian, with strong cultural values in that area, was beyond everyone scope of reason, matter of fact it bothered us some at the studio to have him select such a person. Not criticizing her, rather him, he knew better, I mean when he told her the truth about him, it was crushing, and what did he expect? What he thought he should have, he tried, that alternative lifestyle, he had the attitude, but now he wanted a mate to fit into it, when it wasn’t him.
He never felt guilty, that was not him, not at all, and she felt guilty for falling in love with him. He told her he was a porn star, and the cut, petite,
Spanish girl, stood in shock, just staring, said, “What does that mean?”
He said, “I love you to piece, every part of you, I adore you, and love looking at you naked, and want to marry you, and I know I have taken you before marriage, with the intention to marry you, but I had to tell you first of my profession, I have made five-hundred porn movies, and perhaps because of this my genitals, even at fifty-seven seem to travel in all directions, and I don’t want to stop, we can marry and let me stray, my heart will remain with you.”
Then she said, “Then it shouldn’t matter if I stray?”
He thought about it “Isn’t that against your values?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I am pregnant!”
“What does that have to do with the statement you made on straying?” said the porn star.
“I don’t know, I just said it,” said the Judeo-Christian, Spanish girl.
“We’ll get married than with the understanding we both can stray?” he said.
“But it isn’t your child,” she commented.
He stood there in shock, dumbfounded, “What do you mean it is not your child?”
“Your producer came over one night when you were gone, and asked for you, evidently you were bragging you hand a virgin, and he wanted to see me, he told my of your business, and rapped me.”
Before she could say another word, he was out of her apartment, and on his way to the studio. He was so mad, when he walked into the studio, he hit Carlos, the director so hard along side of the head, and he killed him; and was sentenced to twenty-years in jail.
The only thing she ever said to him was at the courthouse, when they were taking him away, “Jealousy is a hard thing for me to understand, perhaps as hard as a physical and emotional monogamous relationship is for you.”
The Spanish girl never showed up to see him while in prison, never wrote him, never wanted a thing to do with him thereafter, and was never pregnant. And he died on August 27, 2007—at the ripe old age of seventy-seven years old, with all those prison inmates, his new buddies.


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