Confessions of a Hollywood Agent Read online

  “That’s what I like about you, Gale … I mean Dorothy. You’re never satisfied. You always want more.”

  “But, Clint. The part’s me. I grew up with that tragedy. My father was always beating my mother and me too. There’s no one in Hollywood who could play that part as well as me. Try to get me a screen test. If your friend sees me on the screen, I know he’ll cast me.”

  “This is a character part. It doesn’t go with your new glamorous face.”

  “I’m an actress, darling. I can play that down. Please Clint. Help me. You know I can do it. I was meant to do the part.”

  “Okay, you sold me. What are you doing later? I’d like to get back into that bag of tricks of yours.”

  Clint arranged for Dorothy Winters to test for the part of Bonnie in “The Battered Spouse”. It was a big day for Dorothy. She arrived at Columbia at six o’clock for make-up and wardrobe. The make-up man had to put bruises and a create a swelling and a cut over her right eye for the scene. When he finished, Dorothy examined her face in the brightly lit mirror. What she saw looking back was a dumpy, nervouslooking women with a face that had been almost deformed from a supposed beating. The image put her into the character she was playing.

  The wardrobe lady helped her slip into a plain-looking housedress, and she walked on the set. The scene took place inside a house trailer on the sound stage. They had taken out a wall to open the trailer up so they could move the camera around for the action that was to take place.

  Dorothy walked over to Hal, the director, a middle-aged, old-time Hollywood master-maker of woman’s pictures. He said to Dorothy. “I like it. Stay with the feeling you have.”

  Dorothy nodded and went to her position on the set. Campbell, who played her husband in the scene, came on the set dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. His hair was uncombed, and he wore a four-day beard. A cigarette hung from his crooked mouth. The prop man handed him a fifth of whiskey, which was half empty.

  Clint had gotten up early that day to come to the studio to watch his new client Dorothy Winters in her test and to give her moral support.

  He walked on the set and stayed in the background as he heard the assistant director call out. “Lights! Quiet on the set!” the sound man yelled, “Rolling”. Hal said, “Action.”

  The sound of a radio blared. Dorothy stood at the small sink washing up some dishes. She was crying and picked up a cloth and applied it to the cut on her face.

  The door to the trailer opened and Campbell walked in; he picked up some kids clothes off the floor and said. “This place looks like a pig-sty. What the hell did ya mother ever teach you about keeping a place clean?” he yelled.

  “I’m sorry Kip, I didn’t feel like doing much and I couldn’t go to work today. It’s my eye. I can’t see out of it. Does it look bad?” She held her face for him to see.

  “Nothing wrong with ya that another good beating wouldn’t cure.

  Ya know you are the laziest old woman I ever had the privilege to meet.

  My ol’ daddy told me when I married ya you’d be trouble, cause you ain’t educated … yer stupid. Dinner ready yet?”

  “It’s in the oven.”

  “Where’re the kids?” he asked.

  “I sent them to ma’s for the evening.”

  “You’re always sending them to your ma’s. Who in the hell’s kids are they anyway, mine or your ma’s?”

  “I’m sorry Kip. I didn’t think you cared,” she said as she opened up the oven and took out a casserole of macaroni and cheese, put it on a plate and set it in front of him.

  “What! This crap-a-do again. Can’t ya feed me anything else? Why are ya always giving me this shit?”

  “It’s all I can afford on what you give me for household.”

  Kip got up from the table and hit her with his fist. She fell back against the stove. The teakettle turned over and hot water spilled on her.

  She let out a scream. Kip punched her in the stomach. She collapsed on the floor groaning with pain. Kip went back to the table and sat down.

  He poured whiskey into a glass and gulped it down. He continued eating his dinner.

  Dorothy crawled to the back of the trailer. The camera followed her on the dolly. She reached under the bed and pulled out a paper bag. She reached in and pulled out a .38 caliber handgun. She stared at it and turned her head toward Kip. She got to her feet and walked back into the small room. Kip sat with his back to her. She pointed the gun at the back of his head. With no expression on her face, she pulled the trigger three times. Kip’s head fell onto the table, and Dorothy stood over him in a daze.

  Hal, the director yelled. “Cut.” He went on the set to Dorothy and said:

  “Perfect for me. How was it for you?” Dorothy nodded.

  “How about you, Campbell?”

  “I’m happy.”

  “Good,” said Hal. To the cameraman. “Set up for close-ups.”

  Clint walked up to Hal.

  “What do you think of my new star?” he asked.

  “She’s got a lot going on behind that sweet face.”

  “You mean she has talent.”

  “There’s no question about that. She is a very talented young lady, but there is something else. That girl is capable of almost anything.”

  Clint quizzed him further. “Could she murder someone?”

  Hal peered at him. “What an odd question. Are you worried she might kill you? I heard a few actresses tell me they like to kill their agents but I haven’t heard anyone who has. Don’t push it,” and walked away. Clint laughed to himself as he did.

  Clint found Dorothy in her dressing room.

  “Great scene. Where did you learn to act like that?”

  “I’m so glad you got to see it. I studied with Michael Chekhov. He taught me the Stanislavski method. Marlon Brando uses it. It’s called method acting.”

  “It’s strong. You’re constantly full of surprises. If you don’t get the part, it’ll have nothing to do with your acting. It will be politics.”

  Dorothy smiled at him and said. “Maybe I can do something about that too.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “They’re ready for your close-up, Miss Winters,” said the assistant director.

  Dorothy gave Clint a strange smile and walked onto the set.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dorothy had caught the attention of Nathan Wise, a Hollywood power broker or, as some said, the Hollywood God-father with a huge appetite for sex. He’d been married thirty-eight years to the same woman, who had learned long ago not to ask questions of her husband. A few of Hollywood’s female stars could claim Nathan had put them in the movies, and their rise to the top would not have been possible if it hadn’t been for Nathan’s help. Nathan had taken an interest in Dorothy’s career and was pushing her with the studios he did business with. He had giant pension plans at his disposal. He directed their movements and controlled their activities. He invested the funds in the movie business and, most of the time; they gave him a big return.

  His ruthless ways and cunning mind had helped him survive the old mob days in Chicago. His power came from deep within organized crime. It was said he had a direct line to the White House and the union bosses. Nathan kept an apartment on Wilshire Boulevard in Westwood, where he used to entertain his mistresses.

  Dorothy hurried over to the apartment after she had finished her screen test. Nathan had not arrived. She had a key and let herself in.

  She went to the bedroom and took off her clothes. She had removed the make-up at the studio. In the bathroom she turned on the hot water and let it run. Out of her bag she took a packet of strawberry Jell-O and poured the contents into the hot full tub. The water turned cranberry red. Out of the closet she grabbed some expensive Jewel Park handmade lingerie. She had it made for Nathan.

  She stepped out of her panties and submerged herself in the soft feel of the solution, letting it come up to her neck. The faint smell of strawbe
rries filled her nostrils. She lay in the hot water letting the tensions of the day leave her body. She knew her performance should get the job, and so did everyone on the set. She had to get the part. Everything she had ever dreamed about was riding on it. Clint was right when he said it would be politics that would keep her from it. No one ever heard of Dorothy Winters, but she knew they would if she were to play “Bonnie.”

  Nathan is my ace. He’s powerful enough to tell those studio heads that I should have the part. Oh, Nathan, you love. What I’m going to do to you today? she asked herself. It’s got to be something real special, she thought. It came to her. Nathan, have I got a trick for you. She got out of the tub. The Jell-O left her skin feeling soft and smooth. She put her tongue on her arm to taste her skin. She smiled to herself. The smell and the taste of her body would make Nathan delirious with passion.

  She continued drying herself with the large towel.

  She checked herself in the long mirror. She had to admit she had the body of a goddess. Her long shapely legs, her high-sitting pink-nippled breasts, all in perfect proportion to her height and weight. Her skin was white and creamy. And she loved the new hair color. It changed everything about her look, she thought.

  She finished drying herself and went into the bedroom and got into a black silk and lace garter belt. Out of a drawer she pulled a pair of long black sheer stockings and put them on, fastening them to her garters.

  Next came a pair of patent leather spiked high-heeled shoes. The final touch was a sheer black chiffon negligee, edged in black French lace.

  She checked herself in the mirror. Perfect! Now for some red lipstick and eye shadow. She loved how she looked when she dressed this way.

  It made her feel powerful and secure. Nathan would be a little lamb in her hands. She’d punish him today. She knew he’d been a bad boy. And for her reward, Nathan would talk to Columbia and make sure that she would play “Bonnie”. As she reached in a drawer to pull out a long black velvet whip, she heard the key in the door turn.

  She called out. “Nathan, your Venus is waiting for her Apollo in the bedroom.”

  Nathan came through. He put the pressure on Columbia. He threatened them with a strike, and Dorothy got to play “Bonnie” in “The Battered Spouse”. The great reviews of the picture matched its boxoffice receipts. The movie changed Dorothy’s life. Clint took credit for her success. He told everyone he had discovered her. A few people in town recognized her as being Gale Lawrence, a screen extra, who went to jail. But Hollywood had a way of inventing and reinventing its cast of characters, and Dorothy was accepted as a major new star on the Hollywood horizon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Clint liked sports car racing and found himself a big fan and went to all the races. He knew most of the drivers and racecar owners personally. A big race was to take place in Palm Springs at the airport, and the cars and drivers came from around the world to participate in the event. Clint had his client Georgia Evans to be race queen for the weekend. It gave her publicity, and Clint a certain amount of prestige, to be able to bring Hollywood personalities to the colorful events.

  The night before in Beverly Hills a party had been given at the home of a young producer, Matt Shapiro. He had gone to school with a car driver from England who was an English viscount, Geoffrey Landsdown.

  His mother was an American heiress. Clint took Dorothy Winters as his date. Matt had a group of young and attractive friends there to meet Geoffrey. When Dorothy and Geoffrey met it was an instant attraction.

  Dorothy led him to the pool house to be alone. He hadn’t much experience with women, and Dorothy overwhelmed him with her beauty and wit. It didn’t take much for her to end up in his arms. He pushed her down on the sofa and tried to remove her dress. Dorothy pushed his hand back and said. “Let’s save it for another time, when we can be by ourselves.”

  “Would you come to Palm Springs for the weekend to see me race?

  I’ve built a new racecar, and I’m going to compete with Ferraris and Maseratis. Racing is exciting, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, and beside I really like you, and I want you to be with me. I’ll get you a suite of rooms.”

  “I’d like that. My agent is going to the race. I’ll drive down with him,” she said.

  The door to the guesthouse opened and Clint walked in. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Geoffrey has been telling me about racing. He’s invited me to Palm Springs to watch him race. Can I ride with you?” Clint nodded.

  He could tell something had happened between them.

  Clint and Dorothy arrived in Palm Springs and checked in at the Howard Manor.

  “I’m going to find Geoffrey,” said Dorothy. “Call me later.”

  “Don’t forget the party at the El Mirador hotel. Be there at seven,” said Clint. Dorothy we50182201nt on to her suite and Clint picked up the house phone.

  “Georgia, I need you at the El Mirador for photos. Wear a bathing suit.”

  While everyone was at the Concours de Elegance on the El Mirador Hotel lawn Geoffrey invited Dorothy out to the racecourse. His mechanics were still working on his racecar.

  The hood was up on the low sleek car when they arrived. His head mechanic had finished putting the last screws into place.

  Geoffrey was worried. He said to Dorothy. “I have to win tomorrow.

  So much is riding on this race. I’ll prove to the Europeans that Americans can build sports cars too, and I spent a lot of money to prove it”.

  “You’ll win,” said Dorothy, smiling at him.

  “I’m so glad I met you and have you on my team.”

  The head mechanic put down the hood of the car. “We got it fixed.

  Take it around again,” he said as he gave Geoffrey his helmet.

  Geoffrey slid into the racecar and started it up. The twelve cylinders purred, and he took off down the track.

  As Dorothy watched, she found herself thinking how she liked her new friend. This could be a great guy to marry, she thought.

  Geoffrey had the track to himself as it started to get dark. He turned on the car headlights. The light beams focused on the airport runway as the wind whistled past his face and ears. He sped down the fast track.

  The car ran perfectly. A big smile came to his face as he brought the car into the pit. Dorothy and the crew gathered around as he got out.

  “I’m going to win the race tomorrow, guys,” he said as he took off his helmet. The crew smiled between themselves and helped him out of the car. “See you guys in the morning. Get some sleep.” He and Dorothy got into his car and left for the hotel.

  “Let’s have dinner in your room. I don’t want to go to the party. I want to be with you tonight. Just us,” said Geoffrey. Dorothy peered into his handsome face, his hair still wet with perspiration from the heat in the racecar.

  “A lovely idea. I couldn’t bear those people tonight. I’ll give you a relaxing massage. Looking at you tells me you’re in dire need. Take off your shirt and lay on the bed,” she said.

  Geoffrey immediately took off his shirt and went to the bed and lay on his stomach.

  “Let me get comfortable.” Dorothy left the bedroom and came back in a few minutes in a shortie see-through nightgown. She put on her favorite perfume, “Jungle Gardenia”; she knew it always worked for her. She got on the bed and on top of Geoffrey’s back. She straddled his waist as she moved her fingers up his strong back and kneaded the muscles around the back of his neck.

  “Geoffrey, you’re so tense,” she said gripping his tendons. “Is that better?” She could tell he was pleased. She felt the muscles loosen as he relaxed.

  “Hey, you’re real good. Where did you learn your technique?”

  “A Chinese girl taught me. I’m glad you like my hands.”

  Dorothy sensed Geoffrey’s naivetè about sex.

  “Take off the rest of your clothes so I can give you a complete massage.”

  Geoffrey turned over on his back and she unbuckled his belt a
nd slipped him out of his trousers. She went to remove his underwear (she could see he had an erection), but he grabbed her hand to stop her.

  “I said all your clothes, darling,” She patted his erection. His face turned a slight shade of red as he pulled down his jockey shorts.

  “Would you like me to?” she asked. Geoffrey nodded his head. She went down on him. He acted as if it had never happened to him before, and he ejaculated immediately. She brought herself up beside him and held and kissed his body with tenderness. In a matter of minutes she felt him erect again. She pulled him on top of her as his body quivered with excitement. He had difficulty entering her, not that he was big, but she was tight. He almost ejaculated. She calmed him down by holding him still. She had made up cute names for her vagina; she liked to refer to it as “the mouse’s ear.” He tried entering her again. Dorothy let out a sigh and he ejaculated at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, I feel terrible.”

  “Has this happened to you before?” He nodded.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’m too embarrassed to tell you. It was the first time with a girl at school. I felt guilty, but tried to put the experience out of my mind. I excused it for the excitement of the occasion.”

  Dorothy recognized his problem, “premature ejaculation”, but she also knew how to solve it. Qu Ling had told her how to handle this situation.

  “Relax, darling,” she whispered into his ear.

  Dorothy got up and went to a refrigerator and pulled out a few icecubes and wrapped them in a napkin and brought them over to the bed.

  She lay next to Geoffrey and put the ice cubes down between his legs onto his scrotum.

  “What are doing?” he asked in alarm.

  “Helping our situation, darling face,” she said slowly into his ear.

  Geoffrey could feel the coldness around his testicles. He didn’t like the feeling, but the anticipation and the rush he had experienced left him.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” she asked as she moved over on the top of him. She helped him to penetrate her by guiding him. She reached down behind her and with her hand she pushed her fingers against his urethra muscles holding them tight. It worked. He started moving. In and out, slowly moving his body as she moved hers with a rhythm against him until he could no longer hold it back, he climaxed.