Stories From The 6 Train

by Alexis Angel

  “Fuck,” he mutters, and I’d bet that that’s the only thing he can say right now. And it’s the appropriate one too. Leaning back, I let his cock pop out of my mouth and run my tongue over my lips.

  “How do I look?” I asked him, grabbing my tits and rubbing them with the open palm of my hands. My fingers slide easily over my skin, the white cum that covers me helping, and so I smear it all over my naked chest.

  “Perfect,” he replies, extending one hand; I take it and let him pull me up to my feet. The moment I stand straight, he grabs me by the waist and presses his body against me, his lips finding their way to mine. We lose ourselves as we start to kiss, my cum coated lips eagerly devouring his; I push my tongue into his mouth and, with it goes the flavor of his own semen.

  I know, I know—this is supposed to be a job, not a way for me to have fun. But who cares? I would just beat myself up for the rest of my life if I didn’t take the chance to let myself be used by a man like this. Because that’s what happened. Ethan used me, and I loved every second of it.

  As I pull back from him, I look into his eyes once again, and there’s a sudden pang of regret in my heart. In his eyes I see happiness, and I hate the fact that I’ll be the one crushing it. But what options do I have? There’s no other way—if I don’t do this… I don’t even want to think of it. Whatever it takes, I have to do this.

  It’s just a job, I think to myself, and I can’t help but feel that the more I repeat these words... the more they sound like a lie.

  Ethan

  "I have some marketing ideas I'd like to run by you," Cheryl says. We're sitting in the conference room going over the product launch for Illicit Escape, the technology that we're banking on to revolutionize the porn industry—actually, the whole fucking world seems to be banking on it too.

  At least that's what we're supposed to be discussing, this product launch, but I can't fucking focus.

  Instead of thinking about how to launch this product, I'm thinking back to the restaurant—Top of the Rock—with Brittney. I'm thinking about her dress. Her perfect curves. Her smell. The way her blonde hair framed her face and caught the light just right.

  The way I commanded everyone to leave the dining room. The way the city stood tall in the background, a symbol of success and power. And how I felt like I had all of that power in the palm of my fucking hand.

  I'm thinking about the look that formed on her face the moment she realized we were alone. The way she screamed when I pressed my hand against her bare pussy. The way her fingers rested on my waistline in anticipation, her eyes pleading me to allow her to go further. And I'll never forget the way she grabbed my shirt, crazed with lust, and I watched as the buttons popped off and rolled to the floor. That was a first.

  I suddenly realize that if I'm not careful, my cock is going to start tenting my pants in the middle of this meeting. Not fucking ideal.

  "I was thinking we could build off of your press release pitch," Cheryl continues, oblivious to the images playing out in my mind. I nod my head in vague agreement. I'm only partially paying attention, and honestly, every time she starts talking, my mind changes tracks. Like I said, I can't fucking focus.

  "We could do a montage of cavemen scribbling porn on caves walls, and then show ancient civilizations scrawling it on stone tablets and papyrus," she says. "And we can continue down that evolutionary chain until we reach the early days of VHS and the Internet—and then we can have the screen pan into a modern-day man and woman. Maybe they're sitting in a park, or sitting at home, and no one knows, but they're actually, privately watching porn. It's not obscene. It's just normal. That's the revolution. The story always has to come back to the people."

  Cheryl takes a drink of water from a nearby glass and continues. "We can show how discreet this technology actually is—how it's the next evolution of porn. What do you think about that? Ethan? Ethan—hello, is there anybody home? Are you following me?" She says this and laughs, but deep down you can tell she doesn't think me drifting off is funny at all.

  "What? Oh—right—yes, I'm fine. I think that sounds like a great idea," I say, snapping back to the present. What was she just fucking offering again? I'm losing track. I'm literally fucking losing my mind.

  "Do you even know what I was talking about?" she asks.

  "Sure, porn, porn, and more porn," I laugh.

  "Are you okay?" she asks, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

  If I'm honest, I rarely see that look on her face—and I've known Cheryl forever. Seriously. I better get my shit together. I've got to get my head screwed on straight... and quick.

  I don't know what the fuck has come over me. One minute I'm fine. I'm Ethan fucking Kane. The one man in this city that not a single woman can keep. And the next minute, I'm fawning over some woman. Sure, she's hot—but so are a fucking hundred other women throwing themselves at my feet. And what's more, I can't get this particular woman out of my fucking mind no matter how hard I try.

  I look over at Cheryl. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. "I'm fine. A little tired maybe, but fine."

  Do I sound convincing? I'm sure Cheryl can see right through it.

  "Ethan, I've known you for a long time, and I've never seen that look on your face before."

  "You're overreacting," I laugh, shrugging her off. "I'm sure you've seen many of my faces—all variations of the one you're seeing right here in this meeting. Continue with your marketing plans. I'm listening."

  "Okay, well, beyond this angle, I'm thinking that the bottom line is this—our focus should be on the people, our potential customers," she says. "To build buzz, I think we can turn this product launch into a full-scale event. We should also have our pre-orders set to go live soon. Do you know the official pre-order launch date? Ethan—are you listening?"

  "Yes, sorry," I reply. "What was your question again?"

  "No—you're definitely different today," she says, halting the marketing talk. "Where were you yesterday?"

  "I was here," I say.

  "No, you weren't. You left early… and I've never seen you leave work early."

  "Oh, I—uh—I had a meeting scheduled for the evening," I say.

  "With who?"

  "What is this, a game of 20 questions?" I ask. "You sound like a surrogate mother."

  Cheryl looks at me for a moment without saying another word. I can see her brain working overtime. I break the awkward silence.

  "Look, it doesn't matter who I was with… trust me. Let's move on." I say. "What matters is that we launch Illicit Escape successfully. We have millions of dollars riding on this."

  And then it's as if a circuit connects in her brain and she makes the link between what she's been searching for—like finding the correct piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

  "You were with her, weren't you?" she asks. Her eyes are burning holes into me and I know exactly whom she's referring to.

  "No—well, not completely," I say. "I mean I was, but it's not what you think."

  Cheryl gives me a critical glare.

  "Right, and you expect me to believe that?" she asks.

  "Believe whatever you want, but let's continue," I say, slightly annoyed. "If we don't get this product launched, we'll all be in trouble."

  Cheryl realizes that she isn't going to get anything further out of me, so she continues.

  "I've created an infographic that shows a breakdown of various demographics and who our target audience is. You'll see that while many of our clients are male, we do have a sizeable segment of female viewers," she says. "If you look right here, you can see what I'm referring to."

  I glance at the image on her screen, but my mind hasn't been following a word she's said, so it takes me a minute to locate what I should be looking at.

  "It's right here," Cheryl says, pointing down to the far left corner. There's a tinge of irritation in her voice.

  She continues, "I was also considering the fact that we have a large sponsorship pool that we can reach into as well. If w
e throw an event for this product launch, I could see various adult novelty stores interested in sponsorships. Who was that one sex toy manufacturer that we used to partner with? Ethan?"

  "Oh right, uh, let's see—who were they again?" I ask.

  "Never mind. I've just remembered," she says. "We worked with two companies—Naughty by Nature and Good Vibrations. Shall we send them a sponsorship proposal?"

  "Sure, whatever you think."

  "It's your call, Ethan. If we offer them a package, I can ask our marketing team to draw up the proposal. Do we want to offer three tiers of sponsorship?"

  "Look, I must be more tired than I thought because honestly, all of these ideas are jumbled together in my mind," I lie. I'm not tired, but it's true that I'm not focused. I only have one thing on my mind, and it's certainly not the product launch—or events—or sponsors.

  "I trust you, Cheryl. You know this business—and me—inside and out. You make the call, and pull the levers. We'll get everyone onboard with the plan and we'll roll it out. I have total confidence that this will be a product launch for the books. It'll be the best one in Illicit Entertainment history."

  "Okay, if that's how you feel, I'll make the call," she says. I can tell she's still giving me a sideways glance, but I shrug it off and gather my things. Just as I'm about to excuse myself from the room, she speaks up.

  Brittney is supposed to be shooting today," she says.

  "Oh yeah?" I ask, acting casual.

  "From what I can tell, it's an extensive scene. She should be in the building shortly."

  As soon as she says that, I know exactly where I'm heading.

  Brittney

  “Turn your body around a bit to the left so the camera gets your ass,” the photography director calls out from his chair and I angle my body on the bed a little bit so that my ass is pointing toward him.

  Jesus, I never thought I’d be back here again.

  I’m wearing nothing but a lace black thong, black stockings and a matching lace black bra. I’m on a bed with red silk sheets on all fours, trying to look sexy.

  I used to do this back in the day, when I was doing porn full time. Take teaser shots. For covers, promotional materials, trailers, you name it.

  Although back then, it wasn’t as high-tech as it is now. And Robert used to be there with me.

  The thought sends a shudder down my spine. I can’t believe Robert used to stand there and watch me as I wriggled my ass for the camera.

  Oh yeah, Robert, right? I told you earlier I’d tell you about him.

  He’s the guy that Simon is going to give my information to if—

  “Brittney, are you paying attention?” the photography director calls out and I snap my head toward him. “It seems like you’re not listening or trying. I’m sorry.”

  I sigh.

  It really shouldn't be this hard. All I’m supposed to do is look sexy. That’s the whole point of this photo shoot.

  And I promise you, I’m trying. The whole thing is resting on me now that I’m picked to be the face of the I.E.

  I’m going to be starring in the first interactive virtual porn experience.

  It’s going to be different from the old days though.

  For one thing, I’m not actually having sex with anyone on camera. I’m not having sex at all to make this happen.

  I’m going to be pretending to have sex, so when the viewer puts on the glasses, they think that I’m the one who they’re fucking. It kind of ruins the mood if they see another cock in there.

  There’s some computer graphics involved, but a lot of it first involves capturing my pictures as I pretend that there’s a cock inside of me. Or that I’m blowing somebody.

  Even the cumshot is going to be done on the computer.

  Crazy, right?

  That way the viewer only has to specify using his eyes where he wants to cum, and the software will use a pre-made cum shot and target it there on my body.

  I’m one woman, doing a man-woman scene.

  The only problem is, we’re still stuck on the promotional trailers.

  I don’t know why. I just can’t feel as sexy right now.

  Maybe it’s the fact that there are so many people around me, seemingly interested more in their own tasks than on my nearly naked body.

  Maybe it's the fact that the last time I did this was with Robert, and that man makes me feel singularly unsexy.

  Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m here under false pretenses. That Ethan thinks I’m going to be the new face of his product.

  When I’m actually here to steal it from him and give it to Simon.

  I mean, sure, Man Chasers LLC was all about deceit. But I was there deceiving men who were too stupid to realize they shouldn’t be cheating on the woman that they pledged their lives to.

  If a man was going about doing that, and willing to cheat on his wife, then fuck him. He deserves everything that he got by fucking me.

  But this is…different.

  Simon is paying me to lie. But he’s also paying me to steal.

  I have no idea why, but I do know that if I don’t do this, he’s not just going to not pay me. He’s going to destroy my life.

  Tell me something, hun. If you were in this situation, would you even feel remotely sexy?

  I mean, I felt sexy every time I did porn. But no one was holding a metaphorical gun to my head. I wanted to be there, under those lights, seducing on camera.

  Apparently, not only am I not being sexy now, but I’ve stopped even being remotely attractive because the photography director shouts out, “Okay, everyone, let's take five!”

  I sigh.

  If I don’t get my act together then I’ll have fucked this up before I even get a chance.

  I need to somehow catch Ethan’s eye. Then I need to get my way into his trust. And then I need to find what I’m looking for and take it.

  I can hand it to Simon and then get the hell out of here.

  I’ve saved up several million over the years; I can easily relax and live off of it for a few years. Maybe go to Paris. And then Rome. And maybe Venice.

  I’m thinking about Venice and if there’s ever a chance to be a modern day courtesan again when I see him.

  There, coming into the studio.

  Ethan Kane.

  You remember how I gave you that sob story basically about me and my situation? Told you it made it hard to feel sexy?

  Well, I hate to say it because it makes me totally look so wishy-washy, but honestly, just seeing Ethan now is getting me kinda tingly.

  I mean the other day, you saw me when I did the audition. I came during a lap dance.

  I’ve never been a stripper or anything. Like I could never be that cold and money hungry every minute. When I get turned on, I totally go all the way.

  Well, I went farther than I intended I think. You remember? I mean, I know I was telling you that I lost complete track of the people around me.

  God, I came so hard on top of him.

  And then once I got home, I came so hard thinking about it. And don't let me even get started about that night at the restaurant …

  And now, looking at him come into the studio, and look around in confusion as everyone takes their five minute break, I forget all about my troubles.

  It’s like the world is melting around me and once again, it's just him and I.

  “Tommy,” I call out at the sound guy who is still at his post. “Can you play something with a bass?”

  He nods to me and pushes a few buttons. The instrumentals to something that sounds kind of like hip-hop comes on.

  But Tommy’s gone from my head now. I mean, so is everyone else. I’m staring at Ethan and from the corner of the room as he walks closer, I know he’s staring at me on the bed.

  All of a sudden, my body is moving to the slow cadence of the music and I want nothing more than for Ethan to come join me on the bed.

  I crawl over toward the bed, bending my body lower, hoping he gets a view of my ti
ts as they hang. They’re starting to feel really sexy in this bra.

  Ethan walks closer and I can see him now more clearly.

  He’s wearing a shirt that's hugging him like a second skin. You can see his pecs; they’re bulging. His biceps are rippling. He could easily lift me and hold me up if he wanted to and not break a sweat.

  He could use me as a sex toy, I think to myself.

  I mean, don’t you think that, when you look at him on the cover?

  Just lifting you up?

  You’d spread your legs for him. He’d maneuver you like a sex object. Use the entrance to your pussy to rub the head of his cock around a bit.

  Oh yeah. Just imagining the tip of his cock against my pussy lips is getting me hot.

  I love it.

  I bring a hand back, running it over my ass cheek until it gets to the thin layer of fabric that’s covering my pussy lips.

  Maybe someone says something to me, but I don't care whose watching because I take a finger and start to rub my folds. It feels good.

  I feel like I’m in heat. I close my eyes and arch my back, imagining Ethan’s tongue running along me. From my pussy to my crack.

  That’s right. Like the song.

  Lick it hard. Lick it good. Just like he should.

  I shudder as I feel warmth flood my body.

  God, I want to fuck him so bad.

  I’m writhing on the bed all of a sudden. I don’t know how or why, but I’m on my back.

  My fingers go under the waistband of my thong and I run one finger over my clit now.

  That feels too good.

  If I keep doing this I’m going to…

  “Cut!” I hear the photography director yell. Followed immediately by, “Brittney, I don't know where that came from babe, but it was scorching!”

  The world starts to intrude on my haze of lust at this point and I look around.

  Ethan’s standing there, maybe ten feet away.