It stunk of cheap whiskey and cigars, a light haze of smoke filling the room as the patrons of the saloon over-indulged in all manner of debauchery. The bartender kept behind his bar, eyeing everyone, waiting for the moment he’d need to duck and grab onto the shotgun latched and hidden from the eyes of his customers. Every table was full up, men grabbing at the girls wearing too-small corsets for impossibly large breasts. The place was a mad house, and it looked like at any moment someone might explode.<br/><br/>“<em>What do you mean they can’t fuck on the chandelier?!</em>”<br/><br/>Jimmy Tagella wore a grimace underneath those cheap shades, running a hand through the thick brown locks of hair. He wore an Armani shirt rip-off and faded jeans as a hand rested on his hip. The director, his first time with Temptation Studios, stood slack-jawed before him.<br/><br/>“I mean, it’s, well, we can’t do it,” he said. His jowls jiggled as he spoke, looking up to the wooden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. They were in one of Temptation’s larger studio rooms, built specifically to be all-purpose for any sort of scene imaginable. For now, it was the saloon for their new Western themed film, and it included a chandelier for one reason and one reason only.<br/><br/>So the hero and heroine could fuck on the God damn chandelier.<br/><br/>“Look, they have to fuck on the chandelier,” Jimmy implored, gesturing towards it. “They cheat each other at the poker game, kick the table over, and start trying to fight all the way up the steps. She leaps onto the chandelier, he leaps after, and as they’re about to shoot each other...” Jimmy turned, pointing his finger like a gun to the rather cute intern holding a cup of coffee for him. “Just before they pull the trigger, they see the fire in each other’s eyes, embrace, and...” He gestured again to the ceiling. “They fuck on the chandelier!”<br/><br/>The director nodded like an idiot, as he had been doing all morning. “I understand that, Jimmy, but it’s too dangerous. That thing isn’t stable, and it’ll probably crash on down.”<br/><br/>“Well take it down, find a smaller room to hang it in with some green screen or some shit, and have them fuck there!”<br/><br/>The director shook his head. “No can do. This needs to be done today, and it’ll take an entire day just to find a room for that, not to mention green screen and CGI aren’t even in the budget.”<br/><br/>Jimmy sighed. This crap happened to him all the time. He was hired by Temptation at first to touch up their scripts, and they had delayed this Western several months so he could go over it again and improve it, make it more than just a Porno with a Western theme. They wanted it to be a Western with erotic themes. A noble goal.<br/><br/>Except he was still just writing a God damn mother fucking porno. Jimmy tossed his hands in the air, letting out an exasperated sigh.<br/><br/>“Alright, listen. I’ll come up with something. Like um... we’ll have a girl sucking the hero off under the Poker table. I’ll work it out. Just give me an hour.” As he walked off the director shouted something, probably along the lines of “we don’t have an hour”, but Jimmy didn’t care. His perfect introduction between the two protagonists was ruined. He’d have to rewrite the ending, two, where they’d be killed by that very same chandelier falling on them. Any meaning would be gone, now. No sense of coming full circle.<br/><br/>“Fuck...” Jimmy kicked his door open, slamming it right behind him. His office was big enough for him, his computer and the desk on it, but not much more than that. At least it wasn’t an accurate representation of his pay grade, which was pretty sweet.<br/><br/>He took a seat, opening the script file, completely deleting the scene from when the femme fatale sits across from our honest yet cynical hero. What to do? How to play it all out?<br/><br/>The heroine wouldn’t go under the table herself. She’s strong, tough-as-nails, other generic terms that mean “tomboy” in people’s minds. She’d hire one of the saloon girls. The girl would wait for a moment of commotion, when everyone was distracted, probably by two drunkards punching each other in the corner, then she’d crawl under the table by the heroine, unseen.<br/><br/>Jimmy began typing, the keys of the keyboard clacking loudly, echoing throughout his tiny office. The saloon girl would slowly undo the hero’s jeans, to which he’d try not to react. He’d try and keep a poker face, while the heroine would just smile, waiting to watch as he broke down. Only...<br/><br/>Dammit. The audience is going to need to see<em>something</em>of the heroine. You don’t have your lead actress fully clothed in the first sex scene of the movie, though there probably wouldn’t be any actual sex in this variation. Should she be turned on and play with herself? Should the hero hire another saloon girl to go under the table and mess with the heroine?<br/><br/>He sighed. “Fuck it,” he said once more, and made a note in the script to improvise one of the two situations after speaking with the actress. He saved the changes and sent about fifteen new copies to the printers, making sure anyone important to the scene would have a copy. He could talk with the actress about it, at least...<br/><br/>...actually, who was the lead actress of this film? Jimmy shrugged. Didn’t matter. Temptation would have someone by now. He walked off to the printers, waiting for the fifteen copies to finish printing, quickly sticking them in their sleeves, highlighting the changes, sticking them in a cardboard box and walking them back to set.<br/><br/>Day one of production and it was already a disaster.