faire l'amour

by Jessica Gadziala

  There was a weak moment of uncertainty, of insecurity, as I mentally compared myself to endless bodies he had seen before, wondering if he might find me lacking.

  But a low hiss escaped him as his hands closed over the swells, squeezing gently before his thumbs moved over my nipples, wiping away anything in my head but the pleasure building from his touch, the slow, sweet exploration of my body, the unhurried way he seemed to be savoring each step along the way.

  His thumb and forefinger found one nipple, rolling it, as his other hand went behind me, steadying me as his head dipped, his lips closing around the other hardened point.

  Sparks.

  It was cheesy, cliche, but that was the only way to describe how it felt to feel his tongue move over my nipple, to feel his teeth graze it playfully, for his lips to close and suck.

  Sparks.

  His lips moved over my chest, creating more chaos in my body.

  My hand rose, digging into his hair.

  "Preston, please," I begged, hips rolling despite the distance between us, too needy to have any control over my body.

  His lips released me on a groan.

  His arm anchored around my back as he stood, turned, lowered my back onto the mattress.

  He didn't stay with me, though.

  His body folded up, hands tracing down the sides of my breasts, my ribs, my hips, then snagging my panties, pulling until I planted my feet, bridging up, allowing him to slide them off my ass, down my thighs, off my ankles.

  I pressed my thighs together as he moved off the end of the bed, standing above me, looking down.

  In that moment, I was pretty sure nothing was quite as sexy as a gorgeous man standing over you with heavy-lidded eyes.

  Except for maybe a gorgeous man standing over you with heavy-lidded eyes as his hands moved down to remove his belt, work free his button, lower his zipper, slide his slacks down his legs, his hands pausing as he stood there, his cock straining against the material of his black boxer briefs before he freed himself of those as well.

  Yes, that, that was the sexiest sight the world had to offer. A beautiful, naked man with hunger in his eyes and his hardness promising fulfillment to the aching hollowness inside.

  His chest expanded as his knees met the edge of the bed. His hands slid up my legs, grabbing my knees, gently prying them apart, pressing my thighs against the mattress, spreading me to him and his almost unnervingly ravenous gaze.

  But before I could start to worry about what that gaze might have been seeing, his body lowered down, face burying, tongue tracing, teasing up, around, but never touching where I needed the contact most.

  My hand slammed down on top of his, fingers curling in, holding on, the other sinking into his dark, soft hair.

  My hips rose, begging for more.

  And just when I was sure I couldn't take another moment of torment, he gave it to me, his tongue pressing into my clit even as two of his fingers thrust inside me, turning, raking over my top wall.

  I couldn't be sure if it was minutes, if it was seconds, all I knew was the intensity of it as the orgasm gripped my system, overtook me entirely as the waves crashed again and again, as Preston kept licking, kept stroking me through it.

  Even as I came back down, I could hear the tail-end of a moan as it burst from me, could feel the ache in my hands from gripping his hand and his hair so tightly.

  Realizing, I released, wondering if I had been hurting him.

  His head shifted, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh, over my hip bone, my belly, between my breasts.

  His body slowly moved over me, rested atop mine, chest crushing my breasts, torso melded to my belly, pelvis - cock - pressing into my hip, my inner thigh.

  His lips found my neck, tracing soft kisses up to my ear before shifting inward, pressing a long, deep kiss to my lips, his tongue appearing, retreating, his teeth grazing.

  His hips shifted, allowing his cock to slip against my cleft, the head pressing into my clit.

  It didn't seem possible after such a recent orgasm, but desire surged off every nerve ending, made my hips grind upward, slide against his hard length.

  A low, appreciative rumble moved through Preston, vibrating into my own chest as his hips sank, driving me on, wanting me writhing, mindless.

  And it didn't take him long.

  To make the need overtake me completely.

  His body weight shifted up slightly as he pushed up on his forearms to look down at me, waiting for my lids to flutter open before his hips shifted up as well, sliding his cock down my cleft pausing, pressing.

  It was the first time since the crew left that I felt myself tensing.

  There were some forms of intimacy I hadn't experienced, some lines I hadn't crossed, some precautions I had never been without before.

  I'd been on birth control since I was twenty even when I wasn't seeing anyone, just for hormonal reasons. But I refused to be with a man without a second form of protection, without something between us.

  It suddenly felt incredibly ridiculous to be forgoing a condom while having sex with a literal porn star.

  But it was in the contract.

  I had known this going into it.

  And I'd seen the paperwork that had said he was as clean as I was. In fact, the file Cooper had shown me when I came in had three years' worth of tests - none had shown anything.

  This was safe, I reminded myself.

  But maybe the safety wasn't what had me tensing up.

  Maybe it was the boundary-crossing, the idea that I was giving this stranger a form of closeness that I had never afforded to men I had shared large parts of my life with.

  "Come back to me," Preston's voice demanded, low, almost soft - if a man's voice could be such a thing - the sound of it making me realize that while my gaze was on him, I was looking through him, I was lost up in my own head. "There you are," he murmured. This time I was sure it was that. Soft. Because so were his eyes. So was his small smile. His head dipped a little, lips near my ear. "You can still back out," he reminded me, giving me back the control I knew I had never lost, reminding me that this was my choice.

  My hands rose, sliding up his strong back, sinking into his shoulders as my legs wrapped around his lower back, hitching my pelvis closer to his, feeling his cock press harder against the entrance to my body.

  "Yeah?" he asked, gaze finding mine again.

  "Yeah," I agreed, voice a hushed whisper as my sex tightened in anticipation.

  A sound escaped him - relief, excitement? A mix of the two maybe.

  But as soon as it was out of him, his hips surged forward.

  Not hard, not even all that fast, but one deep thrust, making me take him as deeply as my body would allow, settling with a deep exhale. Like he was trying to hold it together. Like it was a struggle.

  His eyes focused, held mine, looking for something. What? I didn't know.

  But I figured he found it as his hips shifted back, withdrawing a bit before sliding back in.

  Achingly slowly. Making me acutely aware of the velvety smooth feel of him, something new, something my body was responding to more powerfully than I could have imagined.

  His gaze held mine another moment longer, seeming yet again to be looking for something. I had no idea if he found it or not because his face lowered, his lips pressed to mine, and his body started to move.

  Slowly, sweetly.

  My hips rose to meet his.

  My hands slid up and down his back, dug into his ass, urged him on as my body surged toward the edge, as it hung there, suspended, waiting, my walls tightening, my body tensing.

  Preston's lips ripped from mine, eyes opening, holding my gaze as he shifted his hips differently.

  "Come, baby," he demanded in a rough voice as he surged forward.

  His hips placed just right, raking over my top wall, the sensation sending me flying over the edge.

  I didn't just fall, I crashed through it, arms, legs clinging to Preston as he kept thrusting, dra
gging it out, my face tucked into his neck, crying out my release.

  Only when the pulsations stopped did Preston surge deep, hips jerking hard as he came, hissing out a curse into my ear as his body tensed and eased, as his cock jerked and released, as his body pressed down on me, weighted, as boneless as mine felt.

  I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that, how long it took for our breathing to level out, our heartbeats to slow down, but what I did know was that when he pulled against my hold, rose up to look down, my body was still gently trembling, overworked, overwrought, all the feelings of trepidation leading up to the moment, the sensations of the event itself all too much for my body to process all at once.

  "Aftershocks," Preston said, eyes still soft as he slowly withdrew, making me press my thighs tightly together, acutely aware of a part of him still within me. "You alright?" he asked, rolling onto his side, facing me, hand softly tracing down my jaw. "You alright?" he asked again when I didn't answer.

  I couldn't be sure, but I would swear he wasn't just asking if I was physically alright. Like maybe he was wondering how I was handling this, if I would be returning.

  "Yeah," I agreed, suddenly - with the absence of the desire and his hands on me - very aware of the cameras, of the mics, of the fact that a woman said she would be waiting out of the door for me.

  The aftershocks subsided.

  The warm, gooey feeling in my chest and belly went away, replaced with a coldness, a brutal understanding of what this was.

  Not a sweet lovemaking session between two average people who happened to like each other, or, at the very least, had chemistry.

  No.

  This was a job.

  I was getting paid to give him my body.

  And he, I imagined, was getting paid so I could use his.

  It was an exchange.

  In the thick of it all, I had managed to do what had seemed unthinkable before - I had relaxed, enjoyed, forgotten myself.

  A chill swept over me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.

  Preston folded up, reached down, got the edge of the sheet, pulling it up to fold over my body.

  "Thank you," I said, tone a little short, a little tense. "What now?" I asked.

  "Now, when you're ready, we get dressed. And, well, you're free to go. Coop might catch you on your way out."

  To give me a check, I imagined.

  "Okay," I agreed, folding up, having an inward dilemma about how the heck I was supposed to handle the situation of a warm trickle down my thigh with some dignity.

  "Okay," Preston agreed, something odd in his tone. But I was too wrapped up in myself to even try to analyze it.

  The bed shook as Preston rolled to the side, moving to stand, walking toward the foot of the bed, fetching his boxer briefs, slipping them on, then turning his back to me to pull up his pants.

  With nothing else to do, figuring they'd be laundered anyway, I used the sheet to handle my dilemma, scooting to the edge of the bed, my hand self-consciously covering my breasts, as ridiculous as that was at this point.

  "Here," Preston said, handing me my dress, my bra, then after some searching, my panties, keeping his back to me as he found his shirt, his jacket, giving me the privacy to slip into my clothes.

  I was pretty sure my panties were inside out and one of my boobs was not in its cup right, but I managed to button my dress properly, so the rest could wait until I got home. And had a long, soapy shower.

  "Hey," Preston's voice said, low, making my head jerk up. "You sure you're alright?"

  "Yeah," I agreed, giving him a smile. Now this, this was the acting I told myself the day would entail. "So, after this..." I started, shaking my head a little. "When will I know if there will be another scene?"

  "There will be another scene," he told me, voice sure. And I guess it would be seeing as he was the boss. He made the calls. He chose the actors.

  "Oh, ah. Okay. Um, do you have an idea of when? And the, ah, actors I might be working with?" My stomach knotted at the idea of other men.

  I'd known that was part of the deal, of course. No actress acted with just one actor. They worked with a new man each scene. I would have to work with a new man each scene.

  "Depends on your schedule."

  "I'm off on weekends. And weekdays after, say, six p.m. I don't know if anyone films at night here or..."

  "Tomorrow then," Preston cut me off, reaching for his phone, typing something quickly with his thumb. "Three?" he asked, looking up for confirmation.

  "Ah, yeah, three works." My legs felt shaky as I got to my feet. I was half-worried they wouldn't hold me all the way out of the building and to my car. "Um, Preston?" I called when he nodded and made his way toward the cameras, pulling out the memory cards, tucking them into his pocket.

  "Yeah?"

  "Who will I be doing a scene with?" I asked his back as he made his way to the door.

  "Me," he told me, swinging the door open, disappearing, closing it behind him.

  It was hardly a few seconds before it flew open to reveal Marie.

  "Are you alright? This was all highly unusual."

  "I, ah, I think it was because I was so nervous," I said, feeling the odd need to defend Preston's actions. "And I'm fine, really. I'll, ah, be back tomorrow for another scene," I added as the crew came back in, but this time with two new people, one pulling a laundry cart, the other leading in a cleaning cart.

  Embarrassment was a hot hand creeping up my spine, curling around my throat. They knew what we did. They would be wiping down surfaces, cleaning sheets with our sweat - and other fluids - on them.

  My shoulders crept up toward my ears as I felt my cheeks warm.

  "Thanks for being there for me though. I know you were taking a chance standing up to your boss. But, um, I have to get going," I told her with a tight smile.

  Before I melt into a puddle of humiliation around these people.

  My only sense of security was knowing Preston took the footage, so no one would be watching it while I was standing there. If they would watch it after I left was completely beyond me.

  This was my life now, I reminded myself as I hurried out the door, keeping my head ducked, not wanting to make eye contact. I reached for my phone, pretending to be immersed in an important text as I typed rubbish into a web browser, wanting to seem distracted, not unsure, not embarrassed.

  "Rosie," Cooper's voice called me to a stop when I was almost at the front door, almost home free.

  "Oh, hey," I said, only looking up from my phone because I had to, accepting the check he handed to me with a kind smile. But there was something in his eyes, a question, maybe, but one I oddly felt wasn't directed at me. "Thank you," I added. "I will, ah, see you tomorrow."

  "You will?" he asked, brows furrowing. "Never mind," he said, giving me a smile, seeming to sense my need to get away. "I will ask the boss about it. Have a good day, Rosie."

  "Thanks, you too," I agreed, waiting a respectful two seconds before throwing myself out the door and walking back to my car, shutting the door, turning the car over, cranking up the music loud enough to drown out the sound of some of my thoughts as I looked down at the check.

  Fifteen hundred.

  I guess there was no denying the truth anymore.

  I was officially a porn star.

  FOUR

  Preston

  I was in the office at nine, late for me, but early for a Sunday. The office had been abandoned when I let myself in, having to turn on some lights, re-adjust the thermostat to cool the space down a bit. The rooms were always kept just short of cold for the scenes. Nothing was less sexy than people sweating like field hands when they were fucking.

  Why was I there early?

  I would say it was under the pretense of getting some paperwork done.

  But there was no one to lie to. And I couldn't fool myself. I knew why I was there.

  To watch the footage from the day before that I hadn't been able to thanks to a string of visitors all day. N
amely, employees looking for information under the guise of welcoming me back to the other side of the industry.

  The memory cards were locked in the bottom drawer of my desk.

  They should have been in the editing room, getting ready to be made ready for distribution.

  I figured I would tell them I just wanted to check it over before I sent them out. But no one asked. Of course they didn't. No one questioned the boss.

  Taking a breath, I unlocked the drawer, pulling out the memory cards, choosing one at random, not knowing if it was the further or nearer one, sticking it in my computer, and opening the file.

  I didn't watch my films almost as a rule.

  There was no reason.

  Even those who did it out of pure ego ended up picking themselves, their bodies, their performances apart until it made it hard to continue to do more scenes naturally, all the moves becoming mechanical, choreographed.

  But even knowing that, even knowing that I had another scene to do later that evening and I didn't need my confidence to take a hit, I couldn't stop myself from watching the footage as we finally moved into the scene, as we got toward the bed.

  Hell, my fucking stomach tensed as I watched her from the back, straddling me. Anticipation. The memory of the moment.

  Everything came back, the softness of her skin, the way it went red, the way her reactions were pure. Each catch of her back, each grip of the sheets or my hair, each whimper, sigh, quiet plea. It was all genuine, real, honest.

  Fucking... addicting.

  Just one taste, just one hit of whatever it was that made her special, and I was craving more, dying for the next fix.

  I'd had multiple scenes with certain actresses before, of course. That was the industry.

  But I had never been thinking about it immediately after, tossing and turning with dreams about it, waking up aching for it, counting down the moments until I could get it again.

  On the screen, my body curled over hers, cock sliding between her slit, feeling how fucking drenched she was for me, feeling her body rise up to meet mine.