“I…”
“Don’t worry. Everyone here is nice. We’re like a big family or some shit.”
I follow him into a large living room. There are lights and cameras and people in every corner of the room.
“Hey, Hud. The assistant’s here.” The man pats me on the back and walks out.
Hudson turns around and immediately comes over, smiling. “Welcome,” he says, stretching his arms out, “to the world of porn.”
I swallow.
“Okay, so basically, like I told you before, you kinda just hang out and do whatever we need—no intercourse…” He laughs, but I don’t. “You’ll bring waters, towels, hold the reflectors, hand them the props.” He stops in front of the kitchen counter and grabs a purple—fuck my life—dildo and holds it out to me. I watch the silicone penis wobble a few seconds before stilling. “Take Tonto,” he says.
“Tonto?”
“Yep. I like to name them.”
He’s still holding Tonto out, shaking it in front of my face. Jesus. I grab it, refusing to look at it. I don’t want to think about where it’s been, and I am starting to wonder if maybe I was a little too ambitious by taking this job. I mean, it’s just sex, but damn, this is a lot more humiliating than I thought it would be. A naked woman with red ringlets cascading down her back saunters past me. My eyes go to her ass. I can’t help it. Now I feel like a pervert, and my cheeks are heating.
“Vee,” Hudson calls out and the redhead stops to look at him. “You got Johnny ready?”
“Yeah, I gave him a shot of tequila, a little bit of encouragement head.”
“You didn’t get him off did you?”
“No, Hud. I’m a professional. Just a few bobs of the head and some Viagra. I think that last shot nearly did him in.”
This cannot be real life right now.
Turning back around, Hud hands me a wad of cash. “Would you go get some coffee? It’s early, and I’m not awake enough for this shit. There’s a Starbucks three blocks over, Caramel Macchiato and Vanilla Latte and whatever you want.”
“Sure.” I spin around, lay the dildo on the counter, and head out of the front door relieved that my first job is coffee and not lubing up Tonto. Surely I will get used to this, right?
Jerry Garcia’s roadie is standing at the door waiting for me when I come back. He holds his finger to his lips telling me to keep quiet as he slowly closes the door behind me. I follow him into the living room and set the coffees on the counter and then—I hear it. The sound of sex: skin slapping against skin, breathy moans, grunts. Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I swallow. I fidget. I look at the floor.
And the longer the noise continues, the harder it is to keep my eyes on the ground. Slowly, I lift my gaze. One of the crew guys is leaned against a wall playing with his phone. Actually, hardly anyone aside from Hudson and the camera men are even looking in the direction of that noise.
My eyes land on the man’s broad back. He’s holding onto the girl’s ankles, pounding into her. With each thrust the muscles in his ass flex and bunch. She lets out a hard moan, one that doesn’t sound fake at all. To be honest, if a guy was going at me like that, I don’t think there’d be much to fake.
“Oh, yes, fuck me, Johnny. I want your come. Fucking come in my mouth.”
I’m so ashamed right now because, as much as I hate to admit it, I am turned on. I swallow. I shift on my feet. I try to look away, but I can’t. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not innocent. I’ve watched my fair share of pornos, but there’s something different about watching people have sex in your apartment, alone, where you have the ability to fast-forward, rewind, or pause. Right now, I am watching this guy plow into this girl like he’s going to kill her while ten other people stand around. And I’m turned on by it because even though all I can see is this guy’s back—his body is sexy and he has some obvious skill.
Vee screams out his name again, and he jerks away, turning his body to the side just enough that I can’t help but watch as he strokes his massive cock. She parts her lips, and he comes in her mouth as she asked. He grunts, and I think he’s done, but then another spurt shoots out and lands on her cheek. Dear God, it just keeps coming and coming and…I immediately pull my phone out and start scrolling through Facebook, trying to look like I wasn’t paying attention to that.
“Hey, Jemma,” Hudson says. My cheeks are hot as shit. When I look up, he’s standing in front of me, smiling.
“Yeah.” I feel my forehead break out in sweat. “Yeah?” I say again.
“I gotta do one more quick shot here, but I need to get ready for a shot with Vee and another girl upstairs. Go up there, second door on your left, and start running a bath, would you? There’s some bubble shit on the side of the tub. Light the candles too, chicken.”
“Yeah, okay.” I turn and hurry out of the room. I can handle coffee; I can handle bubbles—
“Oh, and grab that purple double headed dildo—it’s named Claude—and some lube on your way up.”
What kind of name is Claude for a damn dildo? At least I can say this job will not be boring. At. All.
As soon as I open the door to my apartment, Heather looks up from the couch and smiles. She grabs the remote, turns the TV off, and folds her hands in her lap. She’s sitting so prim and proper she looks like some 1940s school marm.
“Ah-hem.” She blinks her eyes, and her grins widens.
“Yeah?” I toss my keys on the coffee table and flop down in the chair across from the sofa.
“How was…work.”
“Good.”
She nods her head, fighting a giggle. “Like really, really good, or just kinda sorta good?”
“Really? How old are we, twelve?”
She throws her hands up, laughing. “Hey. I’m curious—slightly jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Uh, yeah. I just got a subscription for PornHub—”
“A subscription? Heather, isn’t that shit free?”
“I mean if you want commercials and shit. I don’t have time for commercials when I’m trying to flick my bean, Jemma. Ten bucks a month. All the porn I can watch.”
I lift both brows and stare at her because is she serious? “You’re joking?”
“No,” she raises one hand like she’s taking a solemn oath. “I’m horny. I like porn.” She exhales. “Damn, it feels good to get that off my chest.”
“Oh, my God. You are like a man!”
“Porn is a way of life, my friend. One you are embracing on a whole new level.”
“Yeah, well…”
“So seriously, was it weird?”
“It’s really weird. There’s all those lights and cameras. And they have to do take after take after take.” I exhale. “Did you know that there is such a thing as anal training?”
Her brow wrinkles and her nose scrunches up. “What?”
“Yeah. Anal. Training. Evidently they have these butt plugs they use to stretch out your asshole.”
She snaps her fingers and nods her head. “That’s how come they can take it like a champ. I always cringe when I watch that stuff. Hmm.” She nods again and smiles. “I feel like this is one of those moments were the commercial with the little rainbow and butterfly come on with the logo, ‘The More You Know.’”
“The thing that just baffles my mind is that these people are completely unfazed by it. Hell, one of the guys that handle the equipment was nodding off during a girl on girl scene.”
“Wow. Was he gay?”
“I don’t know.” I giggle. “It’s just strange. There is no way I could be naked, spread eagle with some camera lens aimed on my crotch.”
“Yeah, that has to take some serious confidence to let people all up in your snatch like that.” She pauses. “Oh, think of how much confidence it takes to go doggie style and show the world your chocolate starfish.”
“You have such a way with words, Heather, you really do.”
I push up from the couch and head to my room.
“Hey, wait a second. I need details.”
“What details?”
“What does a fluffer do?”
“I’m not a fluffer.”
“Okay,” she smirks. “What does an assistant do?”
“I just got coffees and water, ran baths, passed out dildos.” I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.
“Passed out dildos—standard. What about the guys? Any of them hot?”
“I only saw one, and it was just his back.”
“That sucks.” Suddenly, her eyes pop wide open. “Oh, my God, if you meet James Deen—the way that man looks at those women is enough to do it for me.”
“He looks at them like he wants to eat their skin, Heather.”
“Oh, he looks at them like he wants to eat something…”
I wave her off as I walk into my room and straight to the bathroom. I plug the drain in the tub, turn the taps, and quickly undress. I stare at myself in the mirror, and I already feel tainted. The sound of the running water only reminds me of Tonto, Claude, and breathy moans. I sink beneath the heated water, watching the water pummel down into the tub. My mind flips back to that guy, his ass flexing with each hard thrust, and, well, fuck it. I scoot down, place my foot on the wall next to the faucet and hang my right leg over the edge of the tub. I let the hot water pound down over me until my eyes roll back in my head.
Tainted. So fucking tainted.
After I’ve gotten dressed for bed, I grab my laptop and pull up Facebook.
There’s a video of a cat and dog fighting. A million selfies. An ad for Sephora and I have a message request from—shit—Tyler.
Titch,
I do miss you.
Tyler
My heart bangs against my ribs in uneven thumps. Leaving his house like that the other day was hard. There was so much shit I wanted to say to him, but sometimes it’s best to build a fortress around your heart. And Tyler taught me that.
I place my head in my hands and stare down at the keyboard. I could ignore this message. I could tell him that the other night was a mistake. I could be mean and bitter and tell him how much I’ve hated him over the past few years, how hurt he left me and how much he’s made me doubt any relationship since him, or I could get over myself and my pride and tell him I miss him too.
And without trying, my mind drifts back to when we I was twelve.
I lie awake, staring at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. I glance at the clock and hear a tap on my window. Smiling, I throw the covers off and hop out of bed. As soon as I open the window, the humid summer air swoops in.
Tyler grins as he crawls inside. “Sorry I’m late, titch. Mom stayed up watching some dumb movie.”
“It’s fine.” I haven’t been scared to sleep by myself for years, but I haven’t told him that. His eyes skim over my body then suddenly dart to the other side of the room. He shakes his hair out of his face while rubbing his hand over his arm and shifting his weight on his feet. “Your legs are getting long.”
“Yeah…”
“Not gonna be able to call you titch much longer if you keep getting taller.”
I flop down on the bed, and he crawls in next to me. We sink underneath the covers. His leg brushes against mine. I feel guilty because I want him to do it again.
He’s starting to get the tiniest bit of facial hair, and he just got his braces off a few days ago. All the girls in my class have a crush on him which makes me mad.
Tyler looks over at me and narrows his eyes. “What do you think about Ellen Frampton?”
“I don’t like her.”
He laughs. “Why?”
“I just don’t.” I don’t because Ellen Frampton spends all day writing his name over the front of her notebooks. She even wrote Ellen Westbrook the other day. I wanted to tear the piece of paper out of her notebook and ball it up.
“She’s nice,” he argues.
“I don’t like her.”
“She likes me.”
I cross my arms over my chest and grit my teeth. “I know.”
“That make you mad, titch, huh?” He pokes my side, and I jerk away.
“No, why would it make me mad? I don’t care who likes you.”
“Sure you do.”
He pinches me again and I punch him in the arm.
“Ow,” he says still laughing.
“Do you like her?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
“No.” I let out a breath.
“She wears too much makeup,” he says. “Hey, titch…” he takes a piece of my hair and twirls it around his finger which causes this flittering flutter deep in my stomach.
“What?”
“You aren’t gonna start wearing makeup like that are you?”
“Momma said I can’t wear makeup until I’m thirteen.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be thirteen in a few months.” He unwinds the tendril of hair from his finger. “I don’t want you to wear makeup like that.” He rolls over and pulls me toward him and now this awkward—thing—is going on. Things used to be easy between us. Tyler would come in here, and we’d talk and fall asleep. Now, I get nervous. I try to find ways to get closer to him. I stare at his face because I like the way he looks. I want to kiss him and I shouldn’t because we’re friends and friends don’t kiss.
“Well, I’m gonna wear makeup,” I say.
“Oh, come on.” He inches closer to me. “You’re too pretty to mess your face up with that junk.”
He’s so close. He smells like Tyler, like laundry detergent and body wash. That scent does something really funny to me. He puts an arm around me, his fingers scratching my back, and then his eyes lock with mine. “Can you keep a secret?” he asks, his nose brushing against mine.
“Yeah…”
Closer. “You promise you won’t get mad at me?”
“Promise.”
I can feel my heart in the back of my throat. I’m hot everywhere. He tilts his head and closes his eyes and then he brushes his warm lips against mine. Neither of us move. His uneven breaths blow over my mouth. I close my eyes and swallow, my nerves bundling up in my stomach. His lips barely press against mine, and we both freeze again. I open my eyes. He opens his eyes and backs away. We’re both breathing hard and staring at each other. This feels weird—in a good way. Without warning, he leans back in and presses his mouth completely over my mine. He stops for a second, then kisses me again. After a second, I feel his tongue slide over my lips and part them. And what the hell do I do with my tongue? Do I stick in his mouth? Do I brush it against his? His hands move to the back of my head, and he tugs me closer to him. When he pulls away, he smiles. “I told you when I was seven I’d kiss you…”
“Hey!” The sound of Heather’s voice brings me back to the present. “Magic Mike XXL is on, wanna watch it with me?”
“Uh, yeah…” I glance back at the message. “Yeah, one sec.”
She moves out of the doorway, and I quickly tap over the keys.
Tyler,
I really miss you too.
Call me. 555-8790.
Titch
I press send and my heart already fucking hates me.
An hour later. I get a text from Tyler asking me if I want to go grab some food tomorrow night—just friends he said. So tomorrow I have porn, then dinner with my ex. Sounds like a grand time if you ask me.
Day two at the job. I’ve already watched two shoots. Wiped off three dildos and a set of anal beads—while wearing gloves and gagging. I don’t care how many enemas they use before that crap, an asshole is an asshole. Shit or no shit.
“Hey, Jemma,” Hudson shouts from behind the camera. I push away from the wall and make my way across the room. “The lighting in here is shit,” he says, handing me a reflector. “Hold this just like…” he adjusts it in my hands, “…that. Perfect!”
“How long do I need to do this?”
“I don’t know, thirty minutes or so…but, uh, you don’t need to be holding it right now.�
� He laughs. “We’re not even filming.”
I drop the reflector. God, I feel like such a dumbass.
“This will be a good one. Two girls, one guy.”
“I’d prefer two guys, one girl,” I mumble. “Double penetration is all the rage you know?”
Hudson glances back at me, a smirk pulling at his thin lips. “Interesting. Wonder how long before you’re the one on screen?”
“Oh, hell no. I don’t think so.”
“Sure. They all say that.” He laughs and walks behind one of the cameras.
A few minutes later I hear high heels click on the hardwood floor. Glancing up, I see the blonde girl I met the day I interviewed.
“Hey!” She smiles. “So you got the job. Congrats!”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll love it here. Promise.” She holds her hand out and shakes mine. “So, my name’s Brandi. Brandi Clit.”
Of course it is. “Jemma,” I say.
“You liking it okay so far? Fun, huh?”
I nod and open my mouth to speak to her, but a guy—a really familiar looking guy just walked in the door, and I’ve lost the ability to form words. He’s talking to Hud, and, I mean, he’s so far away, anyone could look like Tyler from here, right? Because Tyler would not be here. I mean, he said he did services for a…I swallow…a multi-million-dollar company. My heart suddenly takes off in a sprint. This cannot be happening. No. There is no way in hell. I narrow my gaze and my heart pounds harder. He just looks like Tyler. Dark hair, honey colored eyes. Strong jaw and profile. Not him. So not him because that boy that I used to be in love with would never do something like this. He has depth, he has morals, he loved me…I just fucked him…He wants to take me to dinner tonight…
“You okay?” Brandi asks. “You look a little—sick, or shocked, or…something not good.”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, not taking my eyes off the guy who is defiantly not my ex. “I’m fine, just…” I feel my chest heaving and realize I’m breathing hard. Swallowing, I glance at her. “Who’s that?” I ask as I point at him.
“Oh, you don’t know him? He’s pretty new, but really blowing up. Johnny Depth. Hot huh?” She winks at me. “Not gonna lie, kinda excited about this one. I’ve been waiting to get cast with him.”
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