Cammers With Benefits (FWB Series Book 1)

by Kaylee Spring

  “You mean besides that psycho bitch, Jenny?”

  “Now Sally, you know she hates being called that,” Greg clucks his tongue at her.

  “I am not calling her Cherry. It’s a fruit, not a name.”

  “I’ll deal with Cherry later. So don’t you worry about her.” Greg pats Sally on the head. “You just get me new contracts for these two to sign. And let the guys up in Studio B know that we’ll be ready for filming right after lunch.

  Right before Greg leaves Brice and me in a conference room, he sticks his head back in and imitates the horrible sex noises he made in the car. “If you need anything, Sally is here to please you.” An uproarious laugh bounces down the hall after he closes the door.

  “So she’s the secretary now,” I say more to myself than to Brice. “With the way he treats her, it’s a surprise she hasn’t burned this place to the ground yet.”

  Brice says nothing at my lame attempt to lighten the mood. And I’m not about to beg him to talk to me. Especially not when we got into this together. He can keep blaming me all he wants, but the truth is that I didn’t drag him here.

  When silence falls between us, I can hear the faintest rhythmic sound of sex being performed on the floor above us. Or maybe it’s two floors up. It’s almost undetectable unless you really hone in on the sound, but it’s there, and soon it will be Brice and me on the other side.

  This brings me back to last night. How incredibly connected we were. What has come over Brice since then? I just can’t understand the change in his demeanor. I know we didn’t say anything about it, but I was sure that we’d crossed some bridge last night. Not just as friends or even friends with newly discovered benefits, but as something more. Last night was a passionate rush, a flame that burned brightly but quickly. Still, for just a moment during our lustful communion with each other’s bodies, I felt that we weren’t just having sex but that we were making love.

  Sally brings forms for each of us to sign. Brice barely glances at them before signing his name at the bottom. I read through the first page, which mostly covers the company’s health regulations and liability clauses. It then goes on to detail the length of our agreement (30 days) and our payment ($10,000 each). I’m sure that there’s more legalese that I should read through, but I’m no lawyer, nor am I in a position to turn this down. We’ve come this far, and Brice has already signed. What else is there for me to do?

  Sally collects the forms and returns five minutes later with a man in tow. He carries a clipboard and has two pens in his chest pocket, but there’s no other indication that he’s a medical professional.

  “Do you two need privacy?” he asks and then laughs at his joke. “Sorry, I just always try to do this altogether. Considering your profession, it shouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. Plus, I think transparency is important in your line of work.”

  Brice nods but says nothing. And since I’m not protesting, the doctor goes on.

  “Just a few questions. Have either of you ever been treated for an STD?”

  That’s a negative from both of us.

  “Have you had any unprotected sex in the past six months?”

  Brice and I look at each other.

  “Only with her. Last night,” he says first.

  “But I’m on birth control.”

  “Fine, fine,” the doctor says, checking something off on his chart. After a few more personal questions, he says, “Now it’s time for the physical exam.”

  “Here?” Brice asks, looking around the room.

  “Just a quick visual examination. Just to make sure nothing unusual is afoot.” The doctor looks between us as Brice and I hesitate. “You’re the oddest porn actors I’ve ever met. Just drop your pants and we’ll be done before you know it.”

  So we do. It’s the opposite of sexy and I wish we had gotten different rooms, because there’s nothing like having your genitals observed objectively to really kill any sexy vibes between a couple, but thirty seconds later, we’re zipping our pants up again. And after another minute, the doctor has disappeared and Sally sticks her head back in the room.

  “Follow me,” she says.

  Brice and I follow her upstairs to a room filled with racks of clothes and lingerie, one wall covered completely in mirrors, and a desk with hairstyling products, cosmetics, and several containers of wet wipes. We’re not alone in this room.

  Two women and a man, all completely nude, lounge in front of the mirror. One woman has a mug of coffee in her hand, while the other two drink from water bottles. The women are gorgeous, with perky breasts and recent Brazilian waxes. The man could be sculpted from marble if it weren’t for his tousled blonde hair. I wonder how many thousands of hours have gone into creating that body. Even though I know that I I’m staring, I can’t help it when my eyes drift down to his cock, which is larger than any I have ever seen in real life.

  “Let’s see here,” Sally says, flipping through a clipboard. “Your first scene is supposed to be in a bedroom. Relaxed attire, so maybe denim shorts and a halter top for you,” she says, pointing to me. Then to Brice, she says, “And jeans and a t-shirt for you. Try to find one that’s a little too short. Midriffs are big right now.”

  A halter top does not fit into my definition of relaxed attire, but I begin perusing the rack Sally points me towards, trying and failing to ignore the others in the room. They’re watching us with furtive glances until a girl with a perfect afro calls out to me. “Hey, new girl.”

  I point to myself, feeling stupid even as I ask, “Me?”

  She nods, a knowing smile on her lips. “What’s your name?”

  “Tess.”

  “No, I mean your porn name. Look,” she says and points at her co-stars, starting with the nude Adonis. “This guy is Jack Hammersmith. The lovely lady next to him is Jade Idol, and I’m Stellar Love. So I’ll ask you again. What’s your name?”

  I’ve heard that porn names should be the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on, which in my case would make me Fuzzy Franklin, which is going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons. And I’m not going to use my online persona, Brightlights3249, because that’s less a porn name and more the first email I ever made ages ago. So I try to think of myself, and who I want others to see me as. What is my alternate persona?

  She’s everything I’m not. While I’m poor, she’s rich. I’m too loud a lot of the time, but she’s demure. I’m not afraid to get in people’s faces, but she’s soft-spoken. The perfect sweet girl who blooms in the bedroom or on any other flat surface.

  I need a name that shows this duality. It comes off my lips before I really consider it: “Tessa Bloom.”

  “Tessa Bloom,” Stellar remarks. “It certainly has a ring to it, doesn’t it? And how about your lover boy over here? You two are an item, aren’t you?”

  “We’re just friends,” Brice speaks up from the corner. I wasn’t sure if he’d been listening in on our conversation or not, though it would be impossible to ignore in this room where the only other sound is a radio doling out classic rock just loud enough to identify the song being played, but not enough to sing along.

  “Just friends, huh?” Jack remarks. I’m hidden behind a rack of clothes, trying not to draw more attention as I step out of my jeans, a pair of daisy dukes in my other hand ready to try on. That’s when Jack appears beside me. He slaps me on the ass, just where my panties end. “In that case, how about you and I film a scene together?”

  He’s raising his eyebrows in a manner that he probably thinks is seductive, but really just makes me unable to take anything he says seriously. In fact, I can’t even tell if he’s being serious right now. Brice shoots me a look that says he wants to kill me or Jack. Maybe both of us. I’m not sure. In moments, Brice is dressed and ready to go, while I’m still flicking through clothes on the rack, looking for anything that doesn’t smell of sweat or worse.

  The Daisy-dukes end up being just a bit too big for me, but I finally find some shorts that hug my
hips and leave little to the imagination. They’re boy shorts, which are basically panties with short legs almost like boxers. But these are tight and stretchy and certainly sexy. I hate halter tops, but I find a shirt that’s had it’s sleeves cut off, leaving behind holes than run halfway down the sides of the shirt. I wear something similar on my cam shows. Guys love seeing ‘side boob’ as they call it. And it’s comfortable, so I’m following Sally’s guidelines in spirit if not in letter.

  My outfit certainly catches Brice’s attention. I march ahead of him and out the door, feeling his gaze drift down my backside.

  Jack whistles from back inside the changing room.

  “Just friends, huh?” asks Jade, repeating Jack’s earlier sentiment.

  That’s the last thing I hear from my co-stars before I find my way to the studio. Sally is sipping at a mug of coffee just inside. The door is cracked so I head right in. “Is this were we’re supposed to be?”

  Then I see the set. If you ignore the hanging microphones and lights and cameras, it could be any young woman’s bedroom. Stuffed toys sit on bookshelves and a laptop rests on a bedside table. Posters of boy bands hang on the walls. It’s all manufactured, but if they were going for the innocent-girl-next-door look, they certainly succeeded. I’m just not used to all the fanfare. Being a cam girl meant relying on little more than my laptop. Here, the laptop is just a prop. They have professional equipment for the actual recording.

  Greg is talking to the cameramen. There are two of them. When he sees us, he gives two thumbs up. “Love the fashion choices. Very natural but sexy at the same time, which is exactly what we’re going for here. So, let me explain what this scene is going to be. We’re wanting to keep your shy relationship thing going. The best friends with benefits theme. So, we’re going to have you, Tess, lounging on the bed. Getting yourself off.”

  I feel my eyes go wide as I look around the room and imagine masturbating in this room of strangers. It’s a far cry from doing the same thing alone on my computer to a crowd on the other side of the Internet.

  “While you’re swishing that around in your brain, just keep in mind that we’re going to have a similar scene but backwards next. So next it’ll be Brice’s turn for some self loving.” He laughs at Brice’s horrified expression, but continues on before he can interrupt. “For this one, Brice is going to hear you moaning and rush in, thinking something’s wrong. You’re roommates in this scenario, but nothing more. Now instead of stopping and covering up, you’re going to lock eyes with Brice. Really stare him down, and while you do, go at it even harder. Really sell that you’re thinking about him while you’re flicking the bean, so to speak. Brice, I want you to hesitate for just a moment. Return that gaze, and then jump in bed with her. You can take it from there, but since this is your first time, I’ll give you a tip: it’s probably going to be easier to close your eyes once you’re inside her and picking up a rhythm. That way you won’t be distracted by the cameras getting in close for tighter shots. Try to last as long as you can. Switch it up too. Don’t stay in the same position the whole time. Got it?”

  “Close my eyes. Last long. Change positions,” Brice repeats the words as though he were studying for a test.

  “And make it feel real,” Greg adds. “So any questions?”

  So many, actually. Like how did I end up here, preparing to masturbate before a room of cameramen and other onlookers? How am I supposed to even start? Is Brice really okay with all of this?

  As I walk across the studio, I feel distinctly like I’m in a dream where I’ve forgotten to wear clothes. But as I lie down, the pillow under my head smelling of sweat and other body fluids, the reality of my situation sinks in. And when Greg places his hand on his crotch, signaling for me to do the same, I know that somehow I’ve ended up in a nightmare.

  Part II

  Performing Together

  Chapter 5

  I might as well be a high school boy getting to third base for the first time.

  The lights are already overbearing, guaranteeing that I’ll be sporting a sheen of sweat in no time. Then there are the cameras. Two of them. One stationary, about ten feet away from me, and the other held on the shoulders of a middle-aged man who, from the looks of him, goes home every night to an empty house and subsists on a diet of Cheetos and frozen pizzas. Lastly there’s Greg, staring at me from behind the glare of lights, holding his arm in the air. Then he brings it down as though signaling the beginning of a race and simultaneously announces, “Action!”

  All eyes are on me. Me in my boy shorts and sleeveless shirt reclining on a bed that isn’t mine. Me with one hand on my breast and the other on my crotch. I’m supposed to start rubbing myself and moaning, but the whole thing feels so artificial. I’ve never been so turned off in my life. I freeze, but Greg doesn’t call for us to cut, so I try and slowly ease into it.

  This isn’t my first time masturbating in front of an audience. But before I was in my own bedroom, able to escape the eyes at any time. Everything here is so immediate, so visceral. I feel like an amateur, which I guess is exactly what I am. I try to remember how I used to get in the mood when I did this sort of thing before. I guess I thought about someone doing things to me, but all I can think of right now are the cameramen and Greg and the Cheetos-stained shirt of the man aiming a camera right between my legs.

  Then I catch a glimpse of Brice. I can barely see him for the glare of the lights. He’s in the shadows, half hidden by a cabinet set up in the corner. I can’t see his face, but I try to imagine it. This leads me to remember last night and the way his body felt against mine. I try to rub my fingers naturally back and forth over the boy shorts, adding in a few soft moans. I bite my lips. Grind against my hand. But it’s still all just acting. And if I can feel that I’m acting, I can’t imagine how artificial it all must look on the other side of the lens.

  Still Greg does not call for me to stop. He keeps the cameras rolling, so I have no choice but to continue as well.

  I’ve faked orgasms in the past, but I try to avoid doing so when I’m camming. Some guys can tell, and they’re usually the ones that tip the best. But right now I can’t see how I have any other choice. I close my eyes again and arch my back as though I’m really getting into it. After throwing my head to the side I look down at my hand as though I can’t believe I’m actually getting myself off. Like I’m doing something taboo. When the truth is that everything is fake and carefully thought out.

  Brice chooses this moment to edge out from the shadows. He’s watching me, and I can tell that all of his judgmental, holier-than-thou thoughts have been pushed away by his beefier carnal side. Pure lust radiates from his eyes as they catch mine. We lock eyes for just a moment, but it’s enough to propel me past the block I’ve been feeling. Immediately, I slide my hand under my boy shorts and rub a single finger up my slit. I’m wet, but not soaking. It won’t take long though. Not now that I have his face seared in my brain. Not only that, but even with my eyes now closed, I’m sure he’s still watching. Studying my movements. Growing hard in his pants. Thinking of nothing but being inside of me.

  Gone is my stilted acting. All the other people in the room have faded from my awareness. In my mind there’s only Brice watching me from the corner. The next moan that escapes me is real. My free hand going under my shirt and squeezing at my nipple is real too. I’m no longer thinking about what people want to see; I’m thinking about what I want. And what I want is Brice.

  Thankfully, I don’t have to wait much longer. Greg must give a Brice a cue, for I suddenly hear his footsteps. Instinctually I open my eyes and see him at the foot of the bed. He’s got his dick in his hands, pumping it. Fantasizing about being in me. For a moment, we freeze like this. I forget that I’m supposed to act surprised at being caught. The handheld camera then sweeps around behind Brice, and I’m back in reality. I take the reins of the scene, first covering up like I’m ashamed at having been caught. But I keep peeking out of the blanket as Brice continues to plea
sure himself. I can only hope that he is like me. That this isn’t some act, but that I am truly the image in his head that is keeping him going right now. I lick at my lips and uncover myself slowly. Brice pumps away at his cock faster. When I sit up and pat the space next to me, he leaps onto the bed without any further prompting.

  The Brice placing his hands on my shoulders, pressing me into the bed, isn’t the Brice of earlier. Gone is the betrayal from our surprise meeting with Greg. The silent treatment has faded away too, for he is now whispering in my ear as he licks at my earlobes. Messages just for me, not for the camera crew.

  “You make me absolutely wild, did you know that?” he says first, which I respond to by moaning as he slides his fingers over my labia, spreading them just enough to catch a bit of my overflowing juices and using the lubrication to spread over my clitoris. “Do you want me? Do you really want me?”

  “Yes,” I gasp out, far louder than he was speaking. I’m sure that the microphones picked that up, but it will easily be interpreted as over exuberance at all the things Brice is making me feel. No one except for Brice will ever know that this isn’t an act. That we are truly making love, even if we’re hardly alone.

  He works down to my breasts, licking at them while rubbing his hands through my hair. Then he’s pulling me back up and guiding my head down to his cock. He isn’t forceful, but it’s clear what he wants. And I’m only too happy to oblige.

  I go down on him, taking his full length in his mouth, feeling him quiver as I slide my tongue over his tip. I’m only at it for thirty seconds before he’s pulled me back up.

  Brice has always been the type of guy that you imagined would be a bit shy in bed. The kind that would only be into vanilla sex, never crossing any lines without explicit permission. Not the type for rough sex of any sort. But some switch in Brice has flipped. I can only guess that it’s the fact that he knows I want him now. That’s the difference from our first time the night before. He’s no longer doubting himself. He’s no longer doubting us.