Larry came in from the coast where he’d done two underwear commercials in as many months.
I said, “Look at you: the new face of ass.”
We headed downtown towards a coffee shop we used to spend too much time in. He was a good looking guy, in a sort of normal way and I could see how they’d want him to sell their briefs.
“It pays the bills,” he said. “And at least I’m working.”
“MOTION PICTURES,” I said in a stage voice. “So why are you back here?” I asked.
“They’ve got me doing some promo at the Waldorf… to show off the brand.”
“You’re joking,”
“It’s modeling… It pays,” he said. “Part of the deal with the commercial.”
“They’ve actually got you standing around in a crowded room wearing nothing, but your underwear?”
“I did Hair in the nude… at least for this, I’m getting paid,” He said.
” Yeah, but it’s like a cliché of a bad dream…. You know, where you’re at work and everyone has clothes on and somehow you’re naked, or just standing THERE in your underWEAR…”
“Well tomorrow in my underwear IS work,” Larry said. “But I did have a really bad dream last night… I mean if you want to talk about bad dreams… I mean I had a weird dream. I was at the house of a porn star.”
“This is a bad dream?”
“That’s the thing,” he went on. “It was a porn star’s house, but she was dead.”
“How’d she die?”
“I don’t know: an overdose… a suicide…breast cancer? How do porn stars die? She was dead is all and it was like a wake, or a viewing, or whatever they call it and her body was laid out in the living room of one of these flashy houses in the Valley and all these people from the porn industry are all sitting around having cocktails and talking about the dead girl and going up to the body and saying goodbye and then her husband – you know, who was also in the business and her, like most celebrated film partner comes in and he’s naked and by way of saying goodbye to her, he starts fucking her in the mouth… He’s up on top of the casket all tan and muscular and porn actory and he’s fucking her head one last time and we all sit around and watch this act of… what do they call it?”
“Necrophilia,” I say.
“Yeah… we watch this, like it’s the most normal…well… and sad… and touching thing… like a kiss, you know? …Their final scene together.”
“You actually dreamed this?” I ask.
“Yeah… last night in the hotel… must have been the Champagne on the airplane. They flew me out first class. It was nice.”
“Asside from the dead porn stars.”
“Yeah, right,” Larry said.
“You should go back to the theater,” I said.