The Last Don - Mario Puzo [131]
Watching the tests with Dita Tommey were Bobby Bantz and Skippy Deere. The only other people on the set were the necessary crew members. Tommey didn’t mind Deere watching, but what the hell was Bobby Bantz doing here. She had considered briefly barring him from the set, but if Messalina was abandoned she would be in a very weak power position. She could use his goodwill.
Bantz asked fretfully, “What exactly are we looking for here?”
The sex-scene choreographer, a young man named Willis, who was also the head of the Los Angeles Ballet Company, said cheerfully, “The most beautiful ass in the world. But also with great muscles. We don’t want sleaze, we don’t want the crack open.”
“Right,” Bantz said, “Nothing sleazy.”
“How about the tits?” Deere asked.
“They cannot be allowed to bounce,” the choreographer said.
“We audition tits tomorrow,” Tommey said. “No woman has perfect tits and a perfect ass, except maybe Athena, and she won’t show them.”
Bantz said slyly, “You should know, Dita.”
Tommey forgot her weak power position. “Bobby, you’re the perfect asshole, if that’s what we’re looking for. She won’t fuck you so you assume she’s a dyke.”
“OK, OK,” Bantz said. “I’ve got a hundred phone calls I have to return.”
“Me too,” Deere said.
“I don’t believe you guys,” Tommey said.
Deere said, “Dit, have a little sympathy. Bobby and I, what recreation do we get? We’re too busy to play golf. Watching movies is work. We don’t have the time to go to the theater or opera. We can squeeze maybe an hour a day for fun after we spend time with our families. What can you do with just one hour a day? Screw. It’s the least labor-intensive recreation.”
“Wow, Skippy, look at that,” Bantz said. “That’s the most beautiful ass I have ever seen.”
Deere shook his head in wonder. “Bobby’s right. Dita, that’s the one. Sign her up.”
Tommey shook her head in disbelief. “Jesus, you guys are morons,” she said. “That’s a black ass.”
“Sign her up anyway,” Deere said with exuberant joy.
“Yeah,” Bantz said. “An Ethiopian slave girl for Messalina. But why the hell is she auditioning?”
Dita Tommey observed both men with curiosity. Here were two of the toughest men in the movie business, with over a hundred phone calls to return, and they were like two teenagers looking for their first orgasm. She said patiently, “When we send out casting calls we’re not allowed to say we just want white asses.”
Bantz said, “I want to meet that girl.”
“Me too,” Deere said.
But all this was interrupted by Melo Stuart coming on the set. He was smiling triumphantly. “We can all go back to work,” he said. “Athena is going back on the picture. Her husband, Boz Skannet, hung himself. Boz Skannet, off the picture.” As he said this he clapped his hands as the crew always clapped when an actor finished work on a movie, his part finished. Skippy and Bobby clapped with him. Dita Tommey stared at the three of them with disgust.
“Eli wants the two of you right away,” Melo said. “Not you, Dita,” he smiled apologetically. “This will just be a business discussion, no creative decisions.” The men left the soundstage.
When they were gone, Dita Tommey summoned the girl with the beautiful ass to her trailer. She was very pretty, truly black rather than tan, and she had an impudent vivacity that Dita identified as natural and not an actor’s put-on.
“I’m giving you the part of an Ethiopian slave girl to the Empress Messalina,” Dita said. “You’ll have one line of dialogue but mainly we’ll be showing your ass. Unfortunately we need a white ass to double for Miss Aquitane and yours is too black, otherwise you might steal the picture.” She gave the girl a friendly smile. “Falene Fant, that’s a movie name.”
“Whatever,” the girl said. “Thank you. For both the compliments and the job.”
“One more thing,” Dita said. “Our producer, Skippy Deere, thinks you have the most beautiful ass in the world. So does Mr. Bantz, the president and head of production for the Studio. You’ll be hearing from them.”
Falene Fant gave her a wicked