Phoebe was an unlikely extrovert. Her demure appearance with her long hair and emerald eyes appealed to every generation, although her voice had been criticised as one dimensional. Some declared her to be a one trick pony, stating that her audition was a flash in the pan. Despite everything, she had made the finals, possibly with the backing of her You tube followers and a strong Scottish contingent voting for her week after week. She had split the judges in the later rounds and this had given her the wrong sort of publicity. The tabloids had begun to pry, although at least at the time, her sex life had been off limits.
Two years on, she had made it through the preliminaries and was in front of the judges again for the first audition proper. She had grown in stature, her voice maturing and her body blossoming in adulthood. Her flowing Gaelic style with the long, rustic hems had been replaced by tighter tops and shorter skirts. Her figure was stunning, yet she retained that innate shyness. To some extent Phoebe played it for her audience. Her character worked on several levels, warming the hearts of the older generation and stirring the darker side of her young male fans. She had chosen another Adele track for her first audition. It was a safe, competent performance. Phoebe banked on her previous run to carry her through to the Judge’s house.
Being a returnee offered no special privileges. Like the rest, she had to queue to get in front of the judges at the first round, at the recorded stage. Phoebe hadn’t quite pulled it off, two years ago. Tipped for the final, something had gone wrong and even she didn’t quite know what it was. She wanted to blame her mentor but in the end, it was down to her and she knew it. She wouldn’t make the same mistake if she got through. The show had a ruthless reputation now though. Flagging viewing figures had demanded a new sharper image, especially going head to head with the other side.
On the day of the first live audition she was the third to go on. The first two had both been turned down. They were none starters. A fat guy, whose aspiration far outshone his talent was not received well, either by the audience or the judges. Tribute acts didn’t go down well and his was worst than most. The second act was a drama queen who would have been hard work, if she had got the thumbs up. It didn’t quite come to calling security, but she didn’t leave the stage with any magnanimity or self respect.
Then it was Phoebe’s chance. The audience greeted her with cheers and whoops of approval, even before she spoke. Phoebe needed no introduction and there was almost a sense of ‘here we go again.’ There was a distinct sense of tension in the audience as she prepared to sing. Not finding the right key wasn’t a good start but her distinctive voice came through. Those sweet downward glances and self effacing style were still there and seemed almost as important as the song itself. It was a well-known song without being a direct rip-off. Phoebe had a way of making the song her own and yet, something wasn’t quite right. The audience felt it. It was as if Phoebe’s heart wasn’t quite in it.
“Phoebe,” said Luke, the most controversial of the male judges. “It’s good to see you back, but I’m not sure your voice has the potential it once had. I think you know that.“
“I guess I was a bit nervous. I thought it was OK.”
“But do we need ‘OK‘?” Said Luke, sternly.
It wasn’t the most auspicious start and Luke gave her a No.
Two of the other three judges looked at Phoebe sympathetically. Andrea Miles tapped her pen on the judges desk a few times, before revealing her decision. Phoebe needed three votes of ‘Yes’ to make it through.
“You’ve come a long way Phoebe. You’ve matured and that showed in your performance. It was a bit safe for me. I’m not sure it was the right song choice.”
“Maybe I did play it safe. But I’ve got so much in my repertoire now,” said Phoebe, defensively.
“I agree with Luke to some extent. I don‘t think you gave it your all today. There was something missing.”
Phoebe looked at Andrea anxiously.
“OK,” said Andrea. “I’ve made my decision. It’s going to have to be a No from me.”
Phoebe looked down, a tear forming in her eyes.
“OK, well thank you for giving me the opportunity anyway.”
There was a mixed reaction of boos and applause as Phoebe walked off stage, crestfallen. Her brother greeted her back stage with a hug and a reassuring kiss on the forehead.
“Not to worry Sis..”
“I kind of think that was my last chance.”
“No! You can’t think like that Phoebe! If it‘s what you want… you‘ve got to believe in yourself.”
“That’s just it James. I’m not sure that I do.”
“Let’s get a coffee,” said James. “And a donut, it’ll cheer you up.”
Before Phoebe left the studios, there was a break in the auditions and Andrea Miles caught up with her.
“Phoebe?!”
Phoebe turned, surprised to see the attractive female judge approaching her.
“Yes?”
“I wonder if I could have a word?”
Phoebe’s mind ran through the possibilities of why Andrea wanted to talk to her. Had the judges changed their minds? Were they going to give her a second chance?
“Would you excuse us a second,” said Andrea turning to Phoebe’s brother.
James nodded in acquiescence and Andrea took Phoebe to one side.
“Phoebe, are you OK? You looked a bit emotional up there.”
“Yeah I’m fine.”
“The thing is Phoebe, I’m quitting the show.”
“You are? Do they know?”
“No. But they will today. I’m going into another venture, with my partner.”
“Your partner?”
“Harry, my business partner. It’s glamour modelling.”
“OK, so what did you want me…?”
“I want to attract familiar faces. You would be such a catch Phoebe!”
“Modelling? Me!”
“Why not Phoebe? Look at you. You’re gorgeous!”
“Thank you! What kind of modelling?”
“Glamour and a bit more. We can talk about that.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s OK, you don’t have to make a decision now. Here’s my card. Ring me.”
“OK.”
“Say you’ll think about it!”
“I will,” said Phoebe, earnestly. “Never say never!”
Phoebe rejoined her brother, looking at him and doing her best to disguise the new emotions, elicited by Andrea’s unexpected offer.
“What did she want?”
“Oh, just to wish me luck and that I have her support.”
“It took a long time for her to say that?”
“Yeah, well.”
“Are you telling me everything Sis?”
“Yes, why?!” Said Phoebe, sharply.
“I’m just concerned for you, that’s all, no need to snap.”
“I know, I’m sorry James, I’m disappointed, that’s all. Let’s get that coffee.”
It was a bitterly cold weekend in her home town in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland. There was no sign of the snow thawing and the daffodils looked like they had been deep frozen, the yellow buds halted in the moment of emergence. Phoebe spent the weekend strumming on her guitar in her bedroom, mulling over what Andrea had said. Could she really turn her career around? Did she have what it needed, deep down to make it as a model? It was a massive change in direction. What would her family make of it. Andrea mentioned swimwear. What if they wanted her to go further? That was one line she wouldn’t cross. Phoebe was adamant about that. A bathing suit was one thing but anything else…
Phoebe looked at Andrea’s card. The idea of modelling excited her. She picked up her mobile and dialled the number. What did she have to lose. If she didn’t want to go through with it, she could back out. She wouldn’t sign anything, unless she was entirely happy.
At the other end of the country Andrea Miles was toasting her latest contract and discussing the details with the young starlet, Gemma Johnson. Gemma was known the world over in her varied film roles from the age of thirteen. Now twenty four, she had decided on a career change that would both shock and excite her fans. Gemma had already amassed a considerable fortune from her acting career, but she wanted, indeed needed the new challenge. Some of her male fans had hoped that she would go in a more risqué direction, but none ever really believed they would ever see it happen. Gemma had agreed to go the whole hog. It was a tremendous coup for Andrea, who was taking advantage of the new relaxed legislation on adult broadcasts.
While the nanny state had all but closed the door on porn with ever tighter restrictions, a last minute change in the law had allowed some formerly banned content. This could be achieved with an absolute assurance that viewing was restricted to adults by payment of a high subscription fee and encrypted broadcast. High definition TV was made for the adult market and Andrea fully intended to exploit the new laws. She would be the first and she would make sure she was the best. She had a team of lawyers behind her, who would make sure she never strayed outside the limits. She would be entirely responsible for the production and content. Her business partner Harry, would handle the accounts side of things. Andrea was more of a people person and he was a wizz with figures.
Andrea and Gemma were enjoying a glass of wine when one of Andrea’s phones buzzed, vibrating on her glass coffee table.
“Excuse me Gemma, it could be important.”
The cute, mousy-haired Gemma smiled and raised her glass.
“Hello, Miles Productions.”
“Hi Andrea, it’s Phoebe Bright. We talked the other week.”
“Phoebe! How are you?”
“I’m fine thank you. I was thinking about what you said.”
“Yes, what do you think?”
“Well, I’m definitely interested, but I don’t want to commit to anything yet.”
“No, you go at your pace. I’m a bit busy right now Phoebe. But could you come down for an interview? I’ll tell you what. Well pay for your travel expenses. You buy a nice first class seat on the plane from Edinburgh..”
“Really? OK.”
“Yes. I’ll text you the details and address. I’ve got to go. I’ve got a rather important visitor.”
“OK. Sorry to have troubled you.”
“No, no that’s fine. Be in touch!”
Gemma looked at Andrea and raised an eyebrow.
“A new recruit?”
“You’ve heard of Phoebe Bright?”
“The singer, from the Talent thingy?”
“Yes!”
“Wow! She’s gorgeous.”
“I know. She’s very shy though. It’s early days.”
“Do you think she’ll come round?”
Andrea took a gulp of wine, as she considered her answer.
“I think she needs careful management.”
“Ooh Andrea, you devil! You’re a smooth talker. You’ll get your girl, I bet.”
“I hope so. Anyway, we need to get you to meet Tom and Harry. Just buzz me when it’s convenient Gemma, but I’m scheduled to go in June, so…”
“Yeah, I’ll do that, it’s not a problem. My diary is pretty clear for the next month.”
“OK, well how about next week?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“ I have to say this Gemma, it’s amazing to have you on board. What do you think people will think?”
“You know, I don’t care. It’s my life Andrea. I’m weary of the goodie two shoes, butter wouldn’t melt thing. I want people to see the real Gemma Johnson.”
”Well, they’re going to do that!”
Gemma laughed and the girls touched glasses.
Andrea saw pound signs twinkling in the crystal of her goblets. She had set everything in motion, securing a deal with a television production company for a one year contract. All she needed to do was to fill the schedules. She had no doubt that there would be the odd, lesser known weather girl and B list actress from one of the Aussie soaps. The real money though, would come from the likes of Gemma and Phoebe. It was the household names who dared to bare all and more, which would see the dollars roll in. Andrea was taking advantage of the latest refinement in High definition digital transmissions. These were expensive but would be more than off-set by the large pay per view fees.
While the new century had seen porn take off in a big way on the internet, it had been flooded by rubbish. While there were some quality sites, at the low end it was at best in poor taste and at worst illegal. Andrea’s vision was to air live erotica into people’s front rooms, at a cost. For the likes of Gemma Johnson she expected £200 per show, not unreasonable. Part of the pull that her idea had, is that it would be ephemeral. Unlike the internet, which could be hacked, duplicated and spammed everywhere, her broadcasts would be unique and one-off. Special encryption and ultrasonic frequencies would mean it was neither possible to record nor copy the shows in any way. This meant that even with a mobile phone or camera, the images would be unviewable. She was assured by the boffins that as yet, there was no way round this. To some extent this eased the problem of the stigma associated with nudity and sex. Women, she thought would shy away because tapes could fall into the wrong hands. Long-lasting embarrassment among friends and family would normally dissuade girls, who might otherwise embrace the chance to go nude. Andrea’s way was different. Each live show was a one-off. If you missed it, you missed it. For the girls, it would become the stuff of legend, not a seedy skeleton in the closet.
The reassurances that Phoebe had received from Andrea might have been enough for her, but convincing her family was another thing. Coming from a strict, Roman Catholic background, doing porn of any kind wasn’t going to sit well with her folks. Phoebe didn’t know how even to broach the subject. Her mother had assumed she would pursue a musical career in one form or another. Realistically, she could make a few hundred thousand pounds if she was successful, but she knew that her genre was already at market maximum. Those in the music industry, even the ones who believed in her said she was five or six years late on the scene. Andrea had more or less guaranteed her a cool million on her first shoot.
A few days after her phone call, Andrea had sent her a link to potential model FAQs. This gave Phoebe a no nonsense idea to what she would be expected to do. There was a concise list of the statutory limitations, guiding Andrea. On her first show, Phoebe would be interviewed, frankly and openly about her life including her sex life and other intimate details. The idea was to get the girls outside of their comfort zone. When they were asked to undress on live TV, they would already feel exposed emotionally. Andrea knew that what turned men on the most, wasn’t confident, sexy girls but demure, nervous ones. The more bashful the better.
Phoebe had palpitations, just reading the bullet points on Andrea’s site. Each girl would do two shows. The first one was the interview, nudity, genital and anal close-ups, masturbation and oral sex. The second show would include another striptease, but this time she would be asked to masturbate for the camera and then have full sex with Andrea’s male model. It seemed the only limitations were that you weren’t allowed to do anal penetration. There had been a lot of discussion in the parliamentary committees on the obscenity acts and the pro-porn lobby had campaigned for an honest, open debate. They argued that there was no reasonable objection to showing sex on TV. It was already happening in Europe and it made no sense to ban it in the UK. It wasn’t as if the Victorian attitudes had promulgated a cleaner society.
When it came to the final vote the Liberal government passed the legislation with a small majority, paving the way for Andrea and others to make a handsome living. It wasn’t long before AdultX and other late night channels were showing uncensored versions of soft core cuts. Andrea was smarter. She sat back and thought about the implications and opportunities of the new laws. Her shrewd business brain had already propelled her from pop wanabee to one of the country’s best known record producers. Her stable of successful acts had shaped pop culture and influenced the music industry. Not satisfied with her homes in Buckinghamshire and Miami, she was now looking to be net a hundred million in 12 months.
Her model would be rolled out in the USA if the UK pilots were successful. Gemma Johnson would naturally fit on both sides of the Atlantic but Andrea would tailor the guests to fit. Andrea hoped that with someone with a profile as high as Gemma’s would attract other A list celebrities. It was the ultimate expression of erotica, balancing titillation and exploitation in a single package. The porn industry in America was already streets ahead of the UK but no one had yet cottoned on to the value of one-off broadcasts. Catch-up TV had used some of the software, which prevented recording for licensing restrictions. Reality TV was about to get a much needed boost. Part of the package would be a toned stud, called Tom.
Andrea first heard about Tom through a friend of a friend, who ran an agency that specialised in male stripograms. Andrea had a mental image of the guy she wanted to be the show’s stud. He would need to be young, obviously, but not too young. He needed to be cute with a good splash of testosterone; hung like a stallion and ripped to fuck. Madge, the female half of the husband and wife team who ran the agency sent Andrea a few photos of Tom. He was perfect. Even before she had finished skimming through the images, she knew he was the man for the job. She wasn’t in the business of poaching staff and offered Madge a good price, just to talk to him.
Another week passed and Phoebe received a text from Andrea, asking it was OK for her to call. Phoebe replied in the affirmative.
“Hi Phoebe, how goes it?” Asked Andrea.
“Oh, yes good, thank you.”
“I’ll cut to the chase Phoebe. There’s been a bit of a change of plan.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, the production company are good to go and I’ve had the seal of approval from the broadcaster for the show.”
“Oh, great!”
Yes.
