Deep Inside (17 page)

“Of course I do,” Tyler whispers back, her hips beginning to buck of their own free will. “It's been the biggest dream of my life. It's what held me together when my uncles were molesting me back in Alabama. My dream and my stuffed animals were all that kept me going….”

“I know, I know,” I say, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. “Come now, sweetie. Give me your orgasm.” She starts to quiver, and as she does, I say, “You said you trusted me to guide your career. Don't you trust me?”

“Yes,” she says. “I love you. I will. I do. Oh fuck.” And she's thrashing, fulfilled.

Afterwards, I roll a joint.

“I've even found us our very own serial killer, and believe me it wasn't easy. Every person in Hollywood seems to be out in the boonies looking for a female on death row to make a movie about. But I found someone fresh. Her name is Karen Devere. She's on death row in an Oregon state pen.”

“Karen Devere,” Tyler says, trying out the name. “Karen Devere. I'm not sure. What's she in for?”

“I didn't get as much time as I needed for research. But I do know that she murdered twelve men and women. All by the age of twenty-three.”

Tyler turns to me. “Are you sure this will get me the Academy Award?”

“And a Golden Globe,” I tell her. “And everything else you could ever want. Plus it's going to help the cause of women in prison.”

Exterior. Oregon
jail.

I find myself deeply moved as we drive up to the prison where Karen Devere's incarcerated.

I wonder why. Is it because my project is finally coming together?

Then I realize it's also because the prison building, a gray old gothicky thing, looks just like the classroom building where I did most of my work in French theory at Yale. It's where I got my start. Funny, the way life turns around on itself.

Tyler's sulking behind her dark glasses. She's dressed inappropriately in a tight, hip-baring pink skirt and a midriff-baring T-shirt. But it was enough of a fight to get her to show up at all.

“You must be the people from Hollywood,” the guard at the gate says. “Who'd a thought Karen Devere would have movie stars interested in her? And you're not the only ones. We just got a phone call a few minutes ago from somebody else out there. Lansing, did she say her name was. Sherry Lansing, is that right? Well, her assistant anyway.”

My breath leaves me. That means big Paramount commitment. Pull yourself together, I tell myself. So what if your serial killer's dealing behind your back? You can get through this.

“Tell me more,” I say to the guard, slipping him a twenty.

“Well, this nice young fella calls and tells me he's from Sherry Lansing's office, like I was supposed to know who that was, and that they'd heard you were comin' down here and that now they're real interested in Karen's, story, too. That's all, really. But from the tone of voice, I'd expect them to be here at any time. My hint? You should all hurry up since Karen's gonna be executed in less than a year anyway.”

I demand that a guard take us to Karen immediately, and in a few moments we're in a musty waiting room.

Twenty minutes go by. Tyler's in one of her moods, damn it. She swings her feet, grumbling over and over, “I could go right now.”

She plays idly with the tiny stuffed koala that hangs from her purse strap.

A female guard swings open the door and comes through. Behind her, Karen Devere makes her entrance.

Not at all what I expected. Good-looking, for one thing. I mean, really good-looking. The type I used to go for before Tyler.

Karen walks on her toes so that her ample hips swing from side to side. She throws her hair back. No gazing at the ground for her! Even the jail uniform works. It's stylish, what with the dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyeliner expertly applied.

Tyler's eyes widen.

“All right!” she whispers to me. “The murderer's a babe. I'm starting to get interested.”

Karen is hot, but I'm suddenly perplexed. How am I going to make Karen sympathetic to an audience? People can't relate to a self-reliant, sexy murderer.

Karen sits manacled on the opposite side of the long table. I pay the beefy female guard handsomely to stand outside. And now it's just the three of us, locked into the chilly max-security visting room.

Karen's lips are large and tauntingly full. She stares directly at Tyler, giving her a wicked smile that I can tell electrifies my partner.

“Tyler Beaumont,” Karen says. “It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm a huge fan of yours.”

“Really?” Tyler's eyes glisten.

“Oh yeah,” Karen says, her voice low and throaty. “But you never should have done
Werewolf High.
The episode where you decapitated a guy and ran around with his head on a stick? That wasn't very responsible of you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tyler says flirtatiously. “You did that yourself with a real live man.”

“Exactly,” Karen says. “I never would have thought of it if it weren't for you.”

“Really?” Tyler throws her hair back and smiles broadly as though she's just been given a major award. “I'm so honored.”

“Karen,” I sweetly interrupt. “We're here to make the movie of your life. And what you're saying is that Tyler's an inspiration to you. That's great and I look forward to many interviews in which you say just that. But the inspiration should be towards something that the public will respect, like working to change the way that women in prison are treated.”

Tyler brushes me aside. “I want to know more about how I inspired you to decapitate people. Because I only got to pretend to do it. And it's so cool that I empowered you to go out and make it happen in real life.”

“I don't think you can do the movie of my life,” Karen says.

“What?” I say. “But we're perfect to do it—”

“You seem to think I'm a serial killer,” Karen says. “But I'm just a woman who didn't get the right breaks. Who didn't get to go to Yale the way you did.”

Karen leans back in her chair and cocks her head to one side, appraising the two of us. Then she sits up and says, “Our time's over. Call the guard back in.”

“Wait!” I say.

Tyler puts her hand on my thigh to silence me.

“Karen,” she says. “It's time somebody made a movie about you. I know it makes you feel bad to see Aileen Wuornos get all that attention. There she is played by Charlize Theron and now she's everywhere. She's on
American Justice
and
Notorious
and
Biography.
If you ask me, Aileen's a loser.”

Karen sits up. She lowers her lids, staring lusciously at Tyler.

“Fuck Aileen! What about
you
?” Tyler insists. “
You
killed more people than stupid ol' Aileen did. It's unfair that Aileen gets acclaimed as America's finest female serial killer! She had no style. But you—I just know you had style. I can't wait to hear the real story of how you did it.”

“I'll talk once we sew up the deal,” Karen says. “And if you want the movie of my life, right now you'll tell me how much the two of you love each other. Because, you know, love is the most important thing in the world to me.”

Tyler inhales sharply and stares right at Karen. She reaches for my hand and moves it up under her skirt. Of course she isn't wearing panties, even though I've told her that's inappropriate. But I have to admit I'm feeling real stirrings for the first time in ages.

Karen moves her eyes slowly from me to Tyler. It's as though all three of us are in bed together.

“She's fingering my deliciously wet pussy. And I'm going to come big time,” Tyler whispers.

Karen silently watches as I bring Tyler to a climax. Then she lowers her head and whispers, “I developed a real taste for couples. The way that one person would watch the other die and me choosing who'd get to go first—that was better than your orgasm right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tyler says, putting my hand back into her crotch. “Tell me some more.”

“Know what it's like to make that first cut on a neck?” Karen says.

Tyler shakes her head rhythmically, biting her tongue.

“It's like the first time you kiss somebody,” Karen says. “When you're a great kisser—as I'm sure you both are—there's that look of surprise the other person gets. You know what I'm talking about. Because they didn't expect it to be like this, and that's so delicious. And then there's the blood, which spurts out. And if you do it right, you don't use a sharp knife. You saw slowly and tenderly through every muscle and artery. You make it last.”

Tyler's coming again on my fingers. Her hips perform tiny gymnastics, rotating in tight yet voluptuous circles. Her face is flushed, and then she settles calmly. I pull my fingers from her crotch.

“Go ahead, taste it,” Karen says.

I do. I lick my fingers and savor Tyler's pussy. I give the fingers to Tyler to taste.

“It's good, isn't it?” Karen says. “I wish I could taste it myself. Now imagine if you two had someone tied up in front of you. To a chair. Just some random individual—man or woman—or even better, a couple—that you just picked up in a bar. You chose them the way God chooses. Because they've got on a red sweater that you like or don't like. Or they've got hair that's brown and long. Or they look like they're just too happy.”

Tyler's touching my thighs now, and moving her hand up and down the crotch of my pants.

“You invite them home and they go. Because who can resist you. Oh, how I envy the two of you. I'm good-looking, but you two are from Hollywood and who wouldn't want you?”

I'm breathing short, agonized breaths as Tyler slowly rubs the thick seam of my pants into my cunt.

“The couple you've brought home. You let them fuck you. You let them experience a little heaven and then you tell them you want to tie them to a chair. They think it's S-and-M fun, but you bring out a knife and then they're jolted. It takes them a few moments to process what's going on. And then you start. You make the woman watch while the two of you take turns cutting off the man's head. And let me tell you, that first slice of the knife—there's nothing like it. The blood starts to run. And you stop for a moment. To consider your work. The screams, the gurgling, the cries…You made this happen and you two are down on the ground fucking like you've never fucked before.”

Oh my God, I am coming…and then I realize what I'm listening to—a psychopath talking about beheading innocent people.

I snap out of it and push Tyler's hand roughly away. She glares at me. Karen's still talking in that slow, mesmerizing voice.

“Of course, dead people stink if you leave them out, so I put the heads in baggies into my refrigerator.”

“I didn't know that,” Tyler says. “Thanks for the tip.”

As the two of them talk, I find myself returning to the normal world again, and as my head clears, my mind kicks into gear. Fuck, how am I going to make a meaningful film out of Karen Devere? She's gorgeous and charismatic. And she loves killing. Nonetheless, if I don't seal matters up, Sherry's going to take the project away.

“Karen, it's time to close the deal,” I interrupt. “We're going to make a film of your life that's more powerful than
Thelma and Louise.
But I need exclusivity.”

Karen frowns. “I liked
Thelma and Louise
right up to end,” she says. “Why'd they have to kill themselves? I don't want to give women some sort of victim message. I want to show women what they're capable of. I want them to know that they, too, can be Charles Manson or Ted Bundy. Or even better, they can be Karen Devere.”

“That is so beautiful,” Tyler says.

“I can't think of anyone better to play me than you, Tyler,” Karen says. “So you have the deal. But you have to promise me that you won't gain weight, Tyler. Keep the good teeth, too.”

The guard marches in. “Your time's up,” she says, in a husky, intimate voice.

 

Two-shot.
Rental-car interior.

Tyler hugs and kisses me. “Karen is totally awesome!” she says. “I am so into her! I can't wait to play her. Thank you so much, Stacy! This is going to be my favorite role yet!”