by K. C. Wells
During the journey to the studios, which were located not far from Hermosa Beach, they chatted about baseball, basketball, and ice hockey. Sean was really into sports, and it was a lively and pleasant conversation. Mike genuinely enjoyed talking with him. Sean had no airs about him and asked about life in Atlanta, a place he’d always wanted to visit. It seemed like no time at all before the car was pulling into the studio parking lot. Sean switched off the engine, got out of the car, and walked around to open Mike’s door for him. Then he collected Mike’s bag from the trunk and handed it to him.
“Have a good day, Mr.—Scott.” Those cheeks were still pink.
Mike shook hands with him and pressed a folded twenty-dollar bill into the young man’s hand. “Thanks for the pleasant trip, Sean. I hope I get you on the return journey in a couple days’ time, or even when I get taken to the hotel later.”
Sean beamed. “Aw, thanks. Yeah, I hope so too.” He nodded and then got back into the car.
Mike watched him drive out of sight and then pushed open the door to Rock Hard Men’s Studios. It was the tenth or eleventh time he’d been out there to film for them, and it never ceased to amaze him the difference in studios. Compared to ManFactory, Rock Hard Men’s studio was a huge, sprawling building, maybe twice the size, and with a look about it that spoke of money. Mike knew the company that owned Rock Hard Men also owned three more studios, two of which produced het porn. Yeah, a much bigger operation than ManFactory….
He walked up to the desk to check in. Normally he’d have been taken to his hotel before going to the studio, but Sean had told him he’d had instructions to bring Mike directly there. Mike couldn’t help wondering what that was about, especially given the hour his plane had arrived.
The receptionist smiled at him. “Mr. Masters, you have a meeting with Mr. Marks. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Mike nodded, his face straight. Now he was curious. He’d only met William Marks, the owner of the company, once before, about three years ago when he’d first gone there. Since then he’d only had contact with the director and film crew.
Five minutes later, William Marks came through the wide glass doors beyond the reception desk, his hand extended. Mike shook it.
“Come on through, Scott. I’ve got some coffee laid out. I’m sure you could do with some.” He winked. “I know how vile airline coffee can be.” He led the way along a thickly carpeted corridor to his office. Once inside, he closed the door behind them and gestured to a leather couch to the right of a wide, polished desk with two monitors and a keyboard set up on it. A low coffee table in front of the couch was laid out with a squat coffeepot, cups, sugar bowl, cream jug, and several plates with delicious-looking pastries that Mike steadfastly tried to ignore. His waistline didn’t need that sort of encouragement. He’d grab something light once he got to the hotel.
He sat down on the couch, perched on the edge of the seat cushion. Something about this whole meeting had him on edge, though he didn’t have a clue why.
William poured out two cups of coffee, and Mike took his as it came, setting it down before even taking a mouthful. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected meeting?” Mike kept his tone light, but he felt as tense as a coiled spring. His senses were telling him something was coming right at him, and it didn’t feel good.
William relaxed against the seat cushions and sipped his coffee. He placed his cup on the table and then ran his fingers through his graying hair. “Scott, I wanted a chat with you before you went on set to share with you some recent decisions that have been made.”
“Oh?” Mike knew he wasn’t about to get fired. They’d hardly have flown him all the way out to LA when they could easily have done that over the phone. He waited for the rest.
“There have been some high-level discussions with a view to the studio producing bareback films. I’m meeting with all our models, putting out feelers to hear their opinions on this.” William picked up his coffee and drank deeply, his gaze trained on Mike.
Mike went cold, his mind racing. “Wait a minute.” He frowned. “You mentioned that decisions have already been made. So what’s this crap about putting out feelers if you’ve already decided?” He saw no use in being polite, not if they expected him to do bareback. “And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know I’m a staunch advocate of safe sex. Hardly a likely candidate to want to do bareback, right?”
“There would, of course, be more stringent testing prior to a scene, which the company would pay for.” William put down his cup and leaned forward. “We have to face facts, Scott. The adult entertainment industry is evolving, and Rock Hard Men either evolves with it or faces extinction. There are too many companies these days who are producing what the customer wants—and right now that’s bareback porn. So we’re setting up a new branch of the company, Rock Hard & Raunchy, which will be exclusively bareback, among other things.” His gaze met Mike’s. “I’m asking all our models if they’d like to consider working for the new company.”
“And if they’re not interested?” Mike awaited William’s response, his stomach taut.
William shrugged. “Then nothing. We’re not about to force anyone—God forbid—but we have to offer the option. If models aren’t interested, we’ll continue to offer them work as before in the more traditional arm of the company. However”—his eyes gleamed—“I feel I should add that such a decision might be viewed as shortsighted in the current economic climate.”
Mike had heard enough. “Okay, you say you’re not gonna force anyone, but that doesn’t mean you’re not gonna do your damnedest to get them to go with you, right? I mean, we’re talking guys who want to keep their jobs.” He rose to his feet. “Well, maybe some guys might be prepared to compromise their principles and their integrity, but not this guy.” He didn’t care if this meant the end of his career with them. The mood he was in right then, he felt like packing it all in. He was sick to his stomach. “Thanks for the chat, Mr. Marks, but I’m not interested.” All he wanted to do was film the two scenes he was there for, then go back to Atlanta. It was late, and suddenly he was bone tired.
William slowly stood. “I understand. Your filming is set for tomorrow morning. You must be tired after your flight. I’ll have the car brought around to take you to your hotel, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mike nodded and shook his hand, relieved the meeting was at an end. The next morning held the promise of sanity. He was due to film with Jack, a close friend of many years and his lover at one time. It had been a while since he’d heard from his sexy friend, and Mike had been looking forward to their scene. He and Jack had starred together many times over the years, and the scenes of Scott Masters and Armando DiMarco were always eagerly anticipated. It had been jealousy over their relationship that had been the main cause of the rift between himself and Dirk.
Mike always found it difficult not to worry when Jack didn’t keep in touch. It was usually a case that his former lover was up to his neck in work, but now and again Mike would receive a call to inform him Jack was in the hospital, battling some new infection. Then it was a case of dropping everything and flying to San Francisco to be with him.
“One more thing,” William said as he walked Mike to the door. “Sorry to drop this on you at short notice, but there’s been a change of scene partner for the first shoot. Armando DiMarco will not be filming with you.”
Disappointment stabbed him in the gut. “That’s a damn shame.” Then a hand tightened around his heart, icy to the touch. “Is he all right?” He’d been trying not to worry when e-mails and texts had gone unanswered, phone calls too.
“Oh, he’s fine,” William reassured him with a smile. “In fact, he’s going to star in one of the first videos for the new company. We’re all very excited about it.”
Mike didn’t hear the rest of William’s comments about who his new scene partner was to be. His mind was still trying to take on board the bombshell about Jack. He’s doing bareback? What the fuck? Mike
couldn’t believe Jack would go against everything he’d ever said about doing bareback porn. No wonder he doesn’t want to film with me. He fucking knows how I feel about this. There was no way Mike would’ve been able to hide his disappointment in his friend and ex-lover. Whatever circumstances had brought about this change of heart, it still didn’t detract from the danger in which he was placing his scene partners. God knew, Mike wanted to be supportive, but this?
He walked out of the studios in a daze, barely registering the driver’s attempts at conversation as they drove to the Marriott near LAX. His mind was a mess: a new bareback site, Jack abandoning his principles and integrity, the dawning realization that his ex had been deliberately avoiding him….
Just get through the next few days. Then it’s back to normal.
It took a moment for the thought to sink in. He was a fucking porn star, for Christ’s sake. What the fuck was normal about that?
BY THE time his scene partner, Paul, had asked for a fifth break, Mike was getting pissed. Yet again, he watched Paul slope off to the corner of the set where he’d left a towel and his tablet. By now Mike knew better than to try to attempt a conversation with the guy. His first few forays had been met with cool indifference, bordering on rudeness.
Might as well take advantage of the break. Mike went off to his own quiet little corner where he’d left his rather large dildo and lay down on the low couch to have a few moments stretching himself some more, prior to the penetration scene. He slicked it up and slowly pushed it into his ass, forcing himself to relax. He closed his eyes and focused on regaining his hard-on, as his dick had apparently decided it wasn’t playing ball. Not that he was all that surprised. Paul made the right noises for the camera, but there was a distinct lack of chemistry.
This was not going to be an easy one.
“Yeah, I was gonna ask if you were ready for that baseball bat of Paul’s,” Terry said in a low voice. Mike opened his eyes to peer at the director standing next to him. Terry chuckled as he gazed at Mike. “Guess I shouldn’t have worried, dealing with a pro like you.” He craned his neck to gaze in Paul’s direction. “Talkative bastard, ain’t he?” He grinned.
Mike pushed the silicone dildo deeper into him and looked up at Terry, the situation not feeling in the least bit surreal. He’d worked with Terry practically every time he’d come out to LA.
“What is his problem?”
Terry hunkered down next to Mike’s head. “I’d say your tits aren’t big enough, and they’re covered in hair, babe.” He snickered.
Mike saw the light. “Well, fuck.” That explained a lot. He pulled out the dildo and wiped off the lube with his towel before leaving it to one side to be cleaned later. He sat up and glanced over at Paul, who’d plugged in some earphones and was staring fixedly at his tablet, his free hand working his cock. “Wanna place a bet on what he’s watching over there?”
Terry barked out a laugh. “That’s a no-brainer.” He glanced at Paul. “Oh, looks like he’s ready to continue. At least his dick is.” He smirked and rose to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get this finished. Then you can go back to your hotel and have a few stiff drinks.”
“Amen to that.” Mike got up from the couch, towel in hand, and walked onto the set where the bed awaited them, sheets already mussed from their encounter so far. He dropped the towel onto the floor beside the bed, climbed up onto it, and awaited Terry’s instructions. Paul joined him, standing to one side, hand still tugging at his thick, heavy cock.
“Okay, boys, let’s make this the final shoot.” Terry gazed at Paul. “Resume the last position—Scott, on your back, legs over Paul’s shoulders—and then we’ll go for the cum shot. You ready for that, Scott?”
“I will be,” Mike said with a grim smile. He took up his position, and Paul slid easily into him, hands gripping his thighs. When Terry called action, Paul proceeded to pound his ass, thrusting long and hard. Mike wrapped his hand around his semihard cock and retreated into the world inside his head. He focused on a spot just beyond Paul’s head and concentrated on coming. Paul huffed and growled, sounding the part, but Mike dialed him out.
In his head was a sweet, shy-looking young man with reddish-brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Mike while he slowly unbuttoned a white shirt, revealing those wide, firm pecs, creamy skin everywhere he could see. Mike pulled at his dick, breathing heavily as he imagined that shirt coming off, those eyes growing wider when Mike stepped closer to him, reaching out to stroke that sweet face.
“Oh yeah,” he said softly, picturing the young man’s mouth opening for a kiss, lips full, tongue darting out nervously to lick them. Mike’s balls drew up high and tight, and he gave Terry the quick hand signal. One of the cameramen focused on his dick, and Mike held his shaft tightly as his orgasm barreled down on him. Come shot out across his chest in a wide arc, surprising him by its force and magnitude. He rarely produced that much, and to do so with such a relatively innocent image in his head was a first for him. His body jolted, thighs trembling with the aftershocks of his climax.
Then it was time to film Paul’s cum shot. Paul pulled out of Mike, and an assistant handed him his tablet. He knelt between Mike’s spread legs, the tablet on the bed where he could see it, het porn playing silently on it. He worked his dick, his eyes never leaving the small screen, his breathing becoming uneven. Mike left him to build up his cum shot and switched off for a while. It was far more pleasant in his imagination, picturing his shy “stalker.” Where did that come from? He couldn’t get the image out of his head, that young man from Woofs perched on his barstool, those big green eyes watching Mike while he worked, that muscled body hidden under T-shirts and jeans….
“Ready.” Paul’s signal cut through his thoughts, and Mike pulled himself back into the scene. The tablet was quickly buried in the bedsheets, and then Paul cried out harshly, pulling off the condom and shooting over Mike’s belly and dick in spurts of thick come.
Mike went through the mechanics of the scene, kissing Paul as he dropped his head to Mike’s, hands stroking Mike’s face. Then Terry yelled cut, and Paul was off him faster than a New York minute, clambering off the bed and heading to the shower.
“Nice one, guys,” Terry called out while the cameramen packed up. “We’ll fix the time disparity in editing.” He winked at Mike. “And now you need to clean up, go back to your hotel, and recuperate. We’re shooting again tomorrow at midday.” His eyes sparkled. “Think you can produce another cum shot like that one, Scott? ’Cause I have to say, that was pretty impressive.” Another smirk twisted his lips.
“I’ll have to work on it,” Mike responded, wiping himself off with his towel. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a minute, ignoring the hubbub around him. The force of that orgasm was becoming a memory already, leaving him once more calm and in control. But that image was still in his head.
What are you doing to me, kid?
Chapter Five
“AW, MIKEY’S little stalker is here,” Patrick said, nudging Kevin with his elbow as they stood next to one another behind the bar.
Kevin glanced up from his task of mixing a Jack and Diet Coke. Sure enough, the kid was back, walking around the bar to his usual stool, which was unoccupied.
Kevin shook his head, smiling. “Then he’s in for a disappointment, isn’t he? And he ain’t so little, either.” The young man sat down and looked in their direction, then around the bar. Kevin waited a moment before going over to him. “Hey.”
The kid glanced up. “Hey. An Angus burger, tater tots, and a Cherry Coke, please.”
Kevin grinned. “Like I don’t know by now what you’re gonna order.” Those cheeks were awful pretty when he blushed. “Coming right up.” He went to the back bar to give Mitch the order. When he returned, he noticed the young man scanning the room, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Then his face fell. Kevin’s heart went out to him. He could vividly remember being that young and crushing on a guy. That customa
ry sparkle in the kid’s eyes was no longer there.
“Oh wow.” Patrick appeared next to him, pouring out a glass of Blue Moon. “He’s sure got it bad, huh? Looks like a little lovesick puppy, don’t he?” He shook his head, his expression sympathetic.
Kevin had to agree. When Mitch brought out the guy’s meal, Kevin took it to him, placing it in front of him. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” As Kevin turned to move off down the bar, the young man cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but… where’s Mike tonight?”
Kevin could hear the hesitant edge in his voice. It was that more than anything that helped him decide. “Mike is… out of town this weekend. He’ll be back next time you’re in, though.”
The young man nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He began to eat slowly but with none of his usual enthusiasm. Kevin watched him for a moment and then went back to pouring drinks. Now and again he’d cast a glance in the young man’s direction. He was still there, although he hadn’t finished his meal.
“Oh Lord, you might need to lend a hand to Mikey’s little pet,” Patrick said in a low voice. “He’s got an admirer.”
“So? What’s that to me?” Kevin retorted with a frown, handing over change to a customer.
“It’s Brenden, and he’s already way past tipsy.”
Kevin let out a groan. Brenden had a reputation for manhandling guys when he’d drunk too much. Kevin peered around the bar. Sure enough, Brenden had taken up residence on the empty stool next to the kid. He was leaning in close, rubbing the kid’s leg and moving higher up that muscled thigh. The recipient of this up-close-and-personal attention looked panic-stricken. The young man was trying to edge away from Brenden, his Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes wide. Kevin moved close enough to hear what Brenden was saying, his speech beginning to slur.
