Beth hung up the phone and called out to her husband in the living room.
"Tony says he'll be here at two," she said.
"Great. That means he'll wander in around four," said John.
Beth mumbled, 'what else is new' as she walked into the living room and told John she was going to the post office. "I've got twenty-two packages to send out, should be back in an hour to help set up. Need anything else?"
John shook his head, no. "If we shoot it all here," he said, indicating the living room, "we've got enough lights, the two cameras ... everything's charged up, we've got extension cords ... we should be set."
"All we need is a black stud," said Beth. "If Tony doesn't show ... I'll call Howard. Maybe he can fill in. I don't think he's working yet."
"What if they both show?" asked John.
"Let's worry about that later. It's been a while since we've done a three-way. Fans will love it," Beth said.
Beth went back to the kitchen and called Howard. He could make it over at three. She gave John the update, grabbed the car keys and the bag of packages and headed out the door.
As she drove to the post office, she considered how things stood. They would tape today and hopefully finish. That meant John could edit the next two days, and the finished movie would be ready to ship as soon as Thursday. It was funny, but the taping was often the easiest part of making a movie. The struggle was all the prep -- making sure the equipment worked, that they had a place to shoot, and getting the talent to show up.
After a few slow years, Beth and John's home adult movie operation was chugging along nicely. They now had nearly seventy films for sale. Their bread and butter were the more than thirty interracial movies on DVD featuring sexy white housewife Beth with one or more hung black men. They also offered a small library of Beth doing lesbian, masturbation, and S&M acts.
It was a good start for an amateur operation working out of a suburban Illinois home. The two found that interest in their interracial niche was growing fast. At first the partners joked that Beth was a market leader, but the joke had become fact. She was a pioneer in amateur interracial movies, and she had become a sales leader among homegrown performers.
They were building on the foundation built by American porn movies in the 1970s and 1980s. First there was the adoption of VCRs and videotape. Then, the World Wide Web meant Dad could order movies through his computer. The shift to DVD technology made it easier for amateurs to make, market and deliver X-rated movies to consumers everywhere.
The marriage of Beth and John had gone through a revolution while porn became mainstream. They had met and married in their early twenties while working blue-collar jobs, Beth as an administrative assistant, John in a mind-numbing factory. They raised two daughters and sent them off to state colleges.
The marriage was different from the start. They shared a rebellious streak and a high sex drive despite their stereotypical middle American appearance. They had met in high school but never dated.
A few years later they bumped into each other at a swingers' club near their suburban town. They found they had much in common and that they loved having sex with each other. Both also enjoyed going to bed with others and watching other people have sex. Despite that, they also wanted a long-term relationship with a single partner.
This honesty was the bedrock of their marriage. They regularly visited sex clubs while their daughters grew up and went off to school.
Beth had long been curious about black men. She had masturbated about having sex with celebrities like Jim Brown and she was attracted to porn stars Billy Dee and Ray Victory. John had encouraged her to live out her fantasy. Initially she didn't act on those desires, thinking it wasn't allowed, taboo. She was raised by small-minded parents in a small town, and her dad was an outright racist.
The suburb that Beth and John called home was like much of the country -- it wasn't segregated but white folks lived on one side of town and blacks on another. The races interacted at work, then went home to their own color.
The workplace was where life changed for Beth. She was in the office late, catching up on project due tomorrow for the company owner, Mr. O'Connor. As his chief admin Beth had a key to the place, a warehouse and delivery outfit.
A Midwestern summer thunderstorm was battering the place with lightening, thunder and buckets of rain. She felt warm and dry as she worked away.
She was nearly done when there was a banging on the door.
It was Reggie, a tall, friendly black guy who drove a truck for the firm. He was soaking wet and carrying a box.
"Beth, let me in," he shouted through the rain.
"What are you doing here now?" she asked as she unlocked the door.
"O'Connor told me to get this equipment tonight, said he had to have it," said Reggie as he pushed his way in, dripping water on the carpet. He put the box down and wiped the rain from his face. "Damn, it is nasty out there."
Beth grabbed some paper towels and handed them to the big man. Reggie was about six foot two and stocky. He was a dark 35-year-old black man and his wet work shirt and pants looked glued on, revealing his powerful arms, big butt, and thick legs. Beth couldn't help noticing his crotch stuck out from his pants.
Beth had always thought Reggie was fine looking guy. He was down to earth and friendly. She usually kept him at a distance, in part because she was wary of her feelings for black men, in part because Reggie was a bit of a big mouth.
Beth watched Reggie wipe himself off, thinking he looked hot as hell. She glanced for a second at his jutting butt and the bulge of his cock, then pushed the thought aside. "Let me get you some coffee," she said.
She went to the kitchen, got Reggie's drink and returned to the waiting room where her desk was located outside O'Connor's office. Reggie had taken off his shirt and his wet black skin glistened, highlighting his defined muscles as he shook off the rain. His thighs looked to rip through his pants.
Beth's mouth fell open and she nearly dropped the coffee. "Here ... here you go," she said.
