both,' I said. 'With all my heart.'
The contest was a typical thing. Bathing suit competition, gowns, street clothes, talent. I did my thing in a bikini and won the bathing suit competition. Ttie judges gave points based on a ten point system. The higher the impression, the higher the point count. Ten was perfect. Nine-point-something was great. I had, in the bathing suit thing, four tens, one nine-point-nine- the American judge said later he didn't want to make his vote look suspicious by giving me a perfect ten-and one nine-point-seven. That put me a few points ahead of Miss Monoglia, who had five perfect tens from the Iron Curtain judges. The four other judges split the vote among other contestants.
In evening gowns, the American had seen that the Soviet Bloc was trying to stack the points by giving Miss Mongolia perfect scores and he gave me a ten. Carlo, who had been talking around gave me an eight-point-five, because he knew that West Germany had swung to me. I squeeked past, because France seeing that his chick didn't have a chance, got piqued and joined the Soviet Bloc. And then it was evident that it was going to
be me or Miss Mongolia and Japan swung to me in street clothes and then everyone gave Miss England, who was a helluva dancer, the talent contest prize, with me placing second.
Here she is, Miss One World, walking down a huge ramp in Rome, by God, Italy and smiling and crying a few happy tears as if she'd won the contest by pure beauty and talent and not by screwing two judges and turning another one on to A.C./D.C. sex and by siccing her brother onto another judge. Shit, I didn't care. I had what I wanted and I had fun getting it. I wasn't the only one who bribed judges. That sonofabitch Carlo told me later that he and Frank had balled Miss West Germany and promised to vote for her and Miss Mongolia had taken on all five of the Iron Curtain judges, one of whom was a butch dyke.
Miss One World. As Queen of Peace, I made a tour which covered fifty countries. I was on T.V. and in papers all over the world. I was given the royal treatment everywhere I went. I was escorted by good old Pearl and she found some nice lovers in France and I got laid in England, Germany, Japan, and in Russia by a huge, bearded Party official who roared like a bear when he came.
I officiated at political things and social things and I cut ribbons on bridges and put a shovel of sand from here to here when new buildings were being dedicated and I made little speeches for peace and understanding, written for me by the committee which had organized the contest and maybe I did some good. I don't know. The world is a big, hairy place and I don't think one little beauty queen is going to stop nations from wanting the property of other nations, but I did my thing and got a little out of it for myself, for I met some interesting men and got laid a lot.
My reign as Miss One World was one year. When that year ended I was almost twenty-one years old, famous in, my own right, but with no money of my own. In Paris, where the second annual Miss One World contest was held, I put the crown on a girl from Finland and stepped back into the shadows to let her have her moment of glory.
Next day I had an appointment with Carlo at his studio in Rome. I was a private citizen again, no driver, no escort, Pearl having flown tearfully back to good old Old Town. I told her when I made it I'd send for her, and I meant it. I told her that Carlo had plans for me and that I thought those plans were concerning making movies. Carlo, as the result of his contacts as the chief ramrod of the first Miss One World thing, was getting some backing from money people and his movies, two of them during my year as Miss One World, had been getting some publicity and making a small dollar. I saw myself starring in his next production. I was absolutely right. I was the star. I was in the movies.
But I didn't know the extent of Carlo's movie operation. When I found out, I was really pissed, but I was broke, the Finn was getting the pictures in the papers and doing the T.V. interviews now, and I was a has been.
'It is a start,' Carlo said. 'There will be other times, other things. You must begin somewhere.'
'All right, you filthy sonofabitch,' I said. 'Let us begin.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carlo gave me the red carpet treatment. Jesus, I felt like a star when he escorted me around his studio and introduced me. 'This is Kitsy McRae,' he would say. 'We have big plans for her.'
Then, in his wide, carpeted office, he had his lawyer there with a stack of papers an inch thick. I wished for the Congressman or someone who knew that lead-weighted legal shit, but I was on my own. I trusted Carlo. Oh, well, I would probably have done it even if he hadn't used a bit of trickery.
There I was. I had in my pocketbook a plane ticket from Paris to New York and then back to the nearest airport to Old Town. That was from the Miss One World Organization. I had a few bucks in expense money from the same place. Back home in the Old Town bank I had about five hundred bucks, which I'd carefully saved. But during the year of being Miss One World I'd lived high on expense account money and my tastes had developed accordingly. I couldn't quite see Kitsy McRae, Miss One World and the toast of fifty countries, going back to Julie's Seafood Restaurant. So I would have done it.
But Carlo, the bastard, acted like a man with a paper asshole and shoved me into signing the contracts before I knew what was going on. The plum was a big part in a production which was tentatively scheduled for the next winter. It was great. He let me read part of it there in the office.
'The part is very demanding,' he said. 'You will have to work very, very hard. That is one reason why we are delaying the start oЈ it for so long. You must take dramatic lessons and work very, very hard.' 'Sure,' I said. 'That's nice.'
I signed. But what was I going to do in the meantime? I said, 'Hey, Carlo, can you get me some kind of a job?'
'You have a job,' he said, grinning at the lawyer. That worthy blushed and made himself scarce.
'You mean you pay me while we're waiting for the picture to begin?'
'Of course.' He grinned at me again. 'You did not read all of the contract.'
'Maybe you'd just better tell me,' I said. 'I'm not too good at fine print.'
'Tomorrow on the dot of eight, you will report to this address.' He gave me a slip of paper, 'Then you will go to work.'
I stayed in Carlo's house that first night and it was like old times. We had a ball. He had a new kick which turned me on. He'd push seedless grapes up my twat and then suck them out and chew them with wild relish. He knocked off early, however, saying that we both had to be at work early. He woke me at seven and we threw together a small breakfast and he didn't even take time for a morning quickie. I was sort of eager to see what was in store for me, thinking and hoping that I was going into training for my new career as an actress. Well, I was.
This place was on the outside of Rome in a tiny little village. We drove there and arrived at just after eight and it was an old, barn-like building with a few cars parked outside and no windows at all. Every chink was boarded up so no one could see in or out. Inside, there were flats, I mean like stages, and every damned one of them wa§ some kind of bedroom. There were about a half dozen and the lights were all around, with big cables for power running everywhere. All but one of the flats were dark and in that one which was lighted there was a scene which just about curled my carefully made up hair.
These two big-dicked studs were lying naked on a bed grinning at each other and a little man with a red face was shouting at them as cameramen stood around and stared. I couldn't understand Italian then, so Carlo said, 'He's telling them that it's time to go to work and that they'll have to get them up.' He meant the huge cocks of those two studs. They started laying it on each other, frigging each other's cocks, and one of them got hard and the director said, 'Ah,' and began to shout instructions. The one with the hard-on began to rub his cock all over the face of the other, who lay there, an ecstatic expression on his face, soaking it all up. The lights were bright and the cameras were running. 'Goddamn, Carlo,' I said, 'what the fuck is this?'
'Don't be stupid,' he said. 'You knew that I am the premier maker of sex films in all of Europe.'
'You made those things we saw at your house with Frank that night.' I was beginning to see the light.
'Look, baby, I've got a future. I'm not going to shit it away making fuck pictures.'
'Ah, once again, I must remind you that you didn't read your contract.'
'I signed up to make a legit movie,' I said. 'Contract or no contract these things are illegal and you couldn't
