Chapter One

 

Xor-II, n. The largest of a group of three island known as "the Xors," located in the western South Pacific Ocean, northeast of Australia. The three are Nand, Xor, and Xor-II. The Xors are an autonomously governed protectorate of the Solomon Islands.

Pronunciation: Brit. and U.S. /x-or-two/

Forms: No other forms

Etymology: Formerly known as Makirita. Xor-II is the "second Xor" of the Xor Islands. The name Xor is taken from the Boolean expression "Xor" and from the fantasy world of Gor created by the author John Norman in his novels of the same name.

 

"We'll be more comfortable talking on the couch."

Maia smiled coolly, but inside she was terrified. This film producer had a bad reputation; she was on her guard for anything. Normally, she wouldn't have considered his company, but she needed the work.

"Here...sit here so we can talk."

He was patting the seat on the couch between him and the armrest. She would be trapped, she thought then thought again. Maybe she was imagining all this, giving in to rumors and her unfounded fears. She stood up smiling, walked to the couch, and sat where he indicated. She had worn a short skirt to show off her long and shapely legs; now she was wondering if that had been the best idea. This had been billed as a business meeting; how business-like was it to wear a microskirt?

"You are incredibly beautiful and sexy, Maia. I'm sure I can find a place for you on one of our projects, maybe even a film. Tall and leggy is in these days. I'm sure we can find something...appropriate. It will launch your career, you know. The only question is, how badly do you want it."

He paused and stared at her. He was old -- mid-sixties -- and she was still a few months short of her twentieth birthday.

"You do want it, right?"

She turned her head towards him and nodded. He reached up with his hand and touched her face possessively.

"Badly...right. You want it badly, right? I need actors who want it more than anything else in the world. It's a tough job; I need to know you will be committed."

"I want it, Mr. Holstein" she whispered.

She did want it, more than anything. She had been dreaming about an acting career her whole life.

"Then you need to show me how well you can perform. I can't invest millions of dollars in you unless: a) I know you're committed, and b) I know you can excite the men who watch my film. That's reasonable, right, Maia?"

She nodded, hoping he was talking about a screen test.

"So, please, no more foolishness, take off your clothes. I need to see what I'm buying."

Her eyes grew wide, and she hesitated. Every cliché she had ever heard about "the casting couch" and "fucking her way into films through the producer's office" was coming true.

"Did I not hear you correctly, Maia? You did say you were committed, right? Unfortunately, this is how you prove it to me...right here, right now. It's a little uncomfortable and embarrassing, but I can't use another actress who thinks of this work as a pastime. I need to be sure that you are all in...you understand?"

Incredibly, his argument sounded reasonable to her. The studio would be investing a lot of money in her if they put her under contract. Commitment was important, and they did have a legitimate right to know what they were buying.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her shirt and removed it then she slipped her skirt down over her legs. She was wearing a halter top and a Venus-thong, so-called because all it covered was her Venus mound.

"I need to see it all, Maia. I don't want to be surprised once we get you on camera. No need to be embarrassed. Every young actress I have under contract has demonstrated her commitment this way. Stand up please and strip properly."

She tried to smile but it wouldn't come. Her lower lip was trembling. Somehow, she had imagined this would happen differently. She stood up, slipped off her underwear, then stood with one arm over her tits and her other hand covering her cunt.

"Drop your arms please. I need to see how your body will look on film, especially you nipples. Men are paying attention to nipples these days."

She lowered her arms to her side.

"STAND STRAIGHT...get up on your toes and walk around!"

She straightened her body, stood on her toes, and walked naked around the perimeter of his oriental. His eyes darted from her head to her bare feet then back again, drinking in every detail. She felt...violated but kept telling herself the contract he promised would be worth it, that this was SOP, and that it would be over soon.

"Come here please and kneel between my legs. I want to see your gorgeous face more closely. A body is one thing, we can double you if necessary for really sexy scenes, but the face...there's no hiding the face. It's got to sell the product."

She knelt. He was right, the face was key. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears now.

"Take it out, Maia, my cock, and suck it. It's unfortunate, but necessary if you want to get anywhere in this business. It's all about favors, right. If I put you under contract, I'd like to know that you appreciate it. This is the way it works. You will need to do the same for the director, the leading men, maybe even the cinematographer. They are all going to want to be appreciated.

"You are going to need to work for your stardom. There are a million girls in this world, just a luscious as you, who would literally kill to be where you are right now. Go ahead, take it out, and worship it like your life depends on it, and you will have your career."

She believed him. This business was grotesquely lopsided; the people with power could treat those without like slaves. But it wasn't the power imbalance that was bothering her now, it was the hypocrisy of it. If she was going to be fucked, she wanted to be honest about it. Pretending that her talent got her the role he was promising just didn't sit right with her.

"I...I don't think so, Mr. Holstein. I need this job, but I'd rather become a stripper than suck your old cock."

She sat back on her haunches and faced him.

"I don't like hypocrisy," she said quietly. "If I get an acting contract, I want it to be because I can act, not because I can suck cock."

"You're a cunt with a torso, head, and legs, Maia. You won't get anywhere until you accept that. You will be lucky to get a job as a stripper." Holstein wasn't angry, just annoyed that she had wasted his time. Nine out of ten of the beauties he interviewed went down on him. "You will be lucky if you end up on the strip hustling Johns."

She stared at him for another moment then got to her feet and began to dress.

"If you want my advice, pretty girl, find yourself a sugar-daddy and fuck him hard enough to get a marriage proposal. You will need to get past his lawyers and their pre-nuptials, but this your best chance at success."

She finished dressing and turned to him.

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Holstein. I know the way things work for someone like me. I just don't want to spend my life lying to myself and to everyone else. If I'm going to get fucked, I want to be honest about it, not pretend that something else is happening."

He stood up and walked to his desk then he turned and faced her.

"I feel sorry for you, Maia. Everyone who looks like you gets fucked. That's the price you pay for being gorgeous. Trying to be honest when you're this beautiful is for losers. Good luck to you."

She turned and walked out.

 

***

 

Saul Holstein picked up the phone and dialed clumsily. He usually didn't place his own calls -- this was done by the starlet wannabe who worked in his office -- but this call, he needed to place himself.

"Mr. Harriman...?"

"Yes."

"This is Saul Holstein from Pacific Studios. We spoke a month ago about..."

"Yes, I remember. What can I do for you Mr. Holstein?"

"In this instance, I can do something for you that I'd like you to remember.

"I've found the girl you wanted. She is drop-dead beautiful -- with just the kind of look your clients are after -- and she's principled -- she says she's not going to fuck her way to becoming an actress...and I think, she means it. She's also articulate and intelligent...she will make an excellent candidate if you can convince her that the Stanislavsky method you follow is real. She is all about honesty, which makes her perfect for your, ah, project."

There was silence on the line. G. Harold Harriman provided the financing for Pacific Studios. One shake of the head from him and Holstein's company was out-of-business. Saul was desperate to please his benefactor.

"Well, thank you, Saul. What's her name?"

"Her name is Maia Dubois, d-u-b-o-i-s, nineteen, born in Lyon, France, but she speaks perfect English with a sexy French twist."

G. Harold Harriman, founder and owner of Global Software Systems Ltd. Of London hung up the phone. Saul Holstein was a sleazeball and, as far as he was concerned; the only legitimate purpose of his investment in Pacific Studios was to supply him with young nubile starlets for various corporate purposes and functions. Occasionally, though, sleazeballs like Holstein came across opportunities that his legitimate staff never would.

The girl he described might just be what he was looking for to bring Dillon Braddock to his knees.

Dillon's company, Braddock Technology Solutions (BTS), had been taking market share from him and Global Software for several years thanks to his obscene facility on Xor. Every talented nerd in the word wanted to be part of what went on there. It was a fucking movement now -- an unstoppable dream that had infected the world's software talent, an exceedingly rare commodity, and cost him billions, hundreds of billions of dollars in lost sales and failed projects. The engineers on Xor out-produced his team by a wide margin and what they put in the field worked. He intended to stop it by any means necessary.

The means his legal team had proposed was a media campaign that rubbed the world's face in what was happening on Xor, a campaign that made it impossible for buyers to ignore the roleplay that put hundreds of young women in the role of Xor kajirae -- slaves. To do that, though, they needed proof, a witness who could testify to her first-hand experiences on Xor. He would use her to illustrate that the perversions practiced by Dillon Braddock and BTS cronies to motivate his nerds was obscene.

He was realistic enough to know that most people, especially those who benefitted by BTS software wouldn't care, but if he had someone sympathetic enough as a victim, he could make them care. At least, he could disrupt BTS production. Once Braddock was embroiled in a scandal over Xor, it would be easy for him to recover Global's market share and to recruit the talent he needed.

The vital ingredient was a face, someone they could portrait as a real victim, an innocent. "Real" was the key. His legal team had cautioned. BTS would defend themselves by tearing her and her story down...she needed to be principled and convincing. The media would eat it up if she was, and his lawyers would make sure she stayed front-page news for a long time.

 

***

 

"You want an acting career, Maia, well, that's exactly what I'm offering. I just need to know that you will tell the truth if your engagement ends up in court. There's a lot of focus on unfair labor practices now pending in the U.S. courts. We just need to be sure."

She didn't know what he was talking about, but it didn't matter, all she heard were the words "acting career."

He pushed a document across the table. It was an agreement to appear before a magistrate for a deposition in which she would tell "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," regarding her time in Xor.

"Xor...?" she asked.

"It's where they stage their production," he replied.

"Before they sign you up, however, they will ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You can go ahead and do that, but since this agreement predates theirs, this one will prevail. The court has already ruled on this."

He could see that she was confused.

"All this means is that you are willing to tell the truth once your acting assignment is over. You don't object to telling the truth, do you?"

"No."

"Then...we're okay. This document will give you the right to tell the truth without fear of reprisals, that's all, understand?"

Maia looked up at him with her bedroom eyes. She had no idea of what he was talking about, only that he was promising her an acting role and more to follow. This was something that, after the incident with Saul Holstein, she had just about written off.

"You want me to tell the truth...," Maia said, and her agent nodded.

"I always the truth."

"Yes, but once you sign this, you will be able to tell the truth without legal penalty. I advise all my clients to sign it as a necessary protection. The courts have already ruled on this. I can show you the decision if you want..."

Maia just stared. The agent had called her unexpectedly. He said he heard she was looking for an acting role and that he wanted to represent her. She didn't question it, just thanked her stars for such luck. She smiled, picked up the pen and signed.

"If everyone else has signed...," she said quietly.

An agreement to tell the truth seemed harmless enough.

"Someone from The Boboian Agency will be calling you soon. I've arranged it. I send a lot of my clients there. They recruit acting talent for the BTS Group. All you need to remember when they call is not to mention anything about your interview with Saul Holstein, our discussion, or signing this agreement, understand?"

She didn't, but she nodded anyway.

"Other than those few secrets, you should be honest about everything and do what you're told. This is a first-class gig with lots of follow-on work opportunities."

"Okay...?"

"Yes...I'm excited about it."

"Any questions...?"

"No."

"Then I will wish you good luck."

"Au revoir."

Maia was excited, more excited than she had been since coming to the U.S. She not only had an agent, but a well-respected talent agent, who had already lined her up with a role that he said was perfect for her. She was confused by some of the paperwork he had made her sign, but none of that was important, she had a second chance, and she wasn't about to miss it. That was what she had to focus on, not the legal stuff.

 

***

 

"You can come in now, Miss Dubois."

Maia uncrossed her legs and stood up. At five-feet-eight, she was a head taller than the frumpy secretary who guided her, but she stood tall. Many tall girls slouched around shorter people to fit in, she guessed, but she had never felt the need to conform. She was used to being tall, to looking different, to being different, and she was proud of it...which sometimes came off as haughty.

She didn't care. She was one of those people who knew her own mind, who was comfortable in her own skin. She didn't try to fake it with anyone...which was why she had been rejected by one Hollywood producer after another. Even those who didn't want literally to fuck her, wanted to fuck her in other ways. The dishonesty and hypocrisy of it was overwhelming. Finding an agent who had her interests at heart was a godsend.

She guessed that because of her looks, she had been seeing Hollywood at its worst. One disgruntled producer had described her personality as "aloof" and her looks as "exotic" and "hard to market." At first, she had thought he was just disappointed that she wouldn't sleep with him, but the more she thought about his hurtful words, the more they resonated.

"You need to get your head out of your ass and get with the program, Maia. Everything about you screams sex," another producer had said. "You're beautiful, too beautiful, your lips are too full, your mouth is too big, your cheeks are too high, your eyes are too sultry, your hair is too big, and your body, well, it belongs on a mudflap not in a movie or a sitcom. Without help, it's going to be impossible for you to break in to film."

Which was why she was so thankful for this chance to interview at the Boboian Agency. Her agent had promised her that they were different, that she could believe what they said, and that they delivered on their promises. This was what she wanted; this was all she had ever wanted...honesty.

She looked up at the title on the door...

 

Michael S. Douglas,

Senior Vice President, The Boboian Agency

Talent Brokers for the BTS Group

 

She knew about the Boboian Agency of course; every aspiring actor and actress had heard about the Boboians, but she wasn't familiar with the BTS Group. A male friend of hers -- the young director of her last perfume commercial -- had told her that the Boboians specialized in girls with her "unusual and erotic" looks, by which he meant exaggerated and unusually arousing.

"Thanks for coming in, Maia," Mr. Douglas said, extending his hand for a quick shake. "My name is Michael Douglas, but please, call me Michael."

His eyes, she noticed, were everywhere at once, swallowing her whole, but they didn't linger. This was a good sign, she thought, as had been the quick and cool handshake. Most men held their handshake with her for an awkwardly long moment as if they were debating whether to let go or to fuck her.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr., ah, Michael."

She was still a little uncomfortable with the American informality of first names. She preferred the more standoffish European customs which kept everyone at a distance, in their proper place. She was also a bit uncomfortable with her accent. She could still hear the lingering French twist in her voice.

She had thought the accent would be an advantage in American films -- people associate a French accent with sex and beauty -- but it wasn't. It's too in-your-face one casting director had said. "People would laugh at us if we put you, with your accent and your looks, on the screen. It's too...too Brigitte."

She didn't know what he had meant at the time, but she looked up the name later and assumed he had been referring to Brigitte Bardot, a sultry French actress whose career ended 60 years before she was born!

"Please have a seat, Maia. May I call you Maia?"

She smiled, sat, crossed her legs, then pulled her short skirt down to the middle of her thighs. She had worn open-toed heels knowing that many men were attracted to feet.

"I read your acting and modeling resume...the parts you've played are all very, ah, specific."

She smiled again. She knew he meant that her past roles had "typed" her. He was right; she had been type-cast by every agency in New York and Los Angeles as "a French bombshell with the big hair"...suitable only for roles where the audience needed and expected a French bombshell. Using her anywhere else was the very definition of "miscasting." She knew that lots of other actresses had gone through the same thing early in their careers.

"What's, ah, what's been the problem with getting work?" he asked. "You certainly have the looks..."

"I don't know, Mr. Douglas...Michael I think they 'type' me in their minds then convince themselves that I can only work as, well, as a caricature...someone who is funny because they are too extreme. That's all I can figure."

Douglas was nodding his head as if he understood and agreed.

"But I can change for the right part," she added quickly. "I can change my hair and, well I don't use makeup, but I can wear loose clothing, and..."

"And your accent...?"

"That too. I can go to one of those language schools and they can moderate the accent even more so that I..."

She looked up. He was smiling. It had been a joke.

"They are all idiots, Maia. They can't see what I can see. You're perfect. Men will take one look at you and, well, you know..."

She smiled; she knew exactly what he was thinking. Men looked at her and immediately wanted to fuck her...it was a curse. She was relieved though that he seemed to understand -- what everyone else saw as a "bombshell," she saw as herself. Making herself look ordinary to fit in more easily wasn't what she had set out to do. She wanted to act; it was why she had left the Saint-Denis School at 17 and flew to New York over her family's strong objections.

"I am an actress," Mr. Douglas, "a good one. I can play any role I'm given, and I can do it convincingly. I thought the way I look and my accent would help me get roles. Now, it appears that they are disadvantages."

"He stared at her for a moment, openly appraising her."

She began to wonder if he was going to make a pass as well.

"How old are you, Maia?"

"Nineteen."

"I have an acting gig that might be right for you. It's a long-term commitment -- two years at least -- and it's hard work, exceptionally hard, but it pays very well, and it's a great stepping stone to other roles. I've placed many beautiful girls with this production company, and they have all been ecstatic with the opportunity and the work. It's in a foreign country, but the outfit that manages the production is American."

"Where is it, Mr....Michael? What country?" she asked.

She knew there were lots of "acting" gigs in foreign countries in the Middle East and Eastern Europe that were nothing more than fronts for prostitution. She didn't want that or need it; her wealthy parents, her mother mostly, were still sending her the money she needed to live.

"It's on an island in the Pacific...quite a paradise I understand. We -- the Boboian Agency -- used to train people for the roles they needed in Arizona. However, we've since moved the training to the island itself. It's more efficient and economical."

"The training...?"

"Yes, there are some basic skills and, ah, rules that need to be learned before taking on the role. Everyone goes through the same training. It's, ah, required."

"Is it a movie or a series...? It's not a commercial, right? I think I've had my fill of perfume and underwear commercials."

"No, it's not a film production. It's more like a theme park, like Disneyworld, where all the performers play roles for the people who pass through the park. I guess you could say it's like a stage play where the islands are the stage."

She just nodded. She was getting the idea that it was something unusual, probably something illicit or immoral, but she was desperate at this point. She still wanted to act and, the way he described it, this was an acting role in the end.

Beggars can't be choosers, she told herself.

"Is this a role you would consider...being away for at least two years...on an island?"

She didn't answer right away. She wanted to, she wanted to scream "yes," but she didn't want to appear too eager.

"Please, tell me more about the part.... I don't want to make a mistake."