Porn Star

by Lola Cherry

  “Yeah!”

  “Why?”

  We start to stretch, and I take a moment to think his question through. Part of me thinks a fuck is a fuck—no matter if you’re getting paid for it or not—and therefore I shouldn’t think of him as any different to anybody else. But there’s something so bad, so taboo about being paid for sex. I hate that I’m not enlightened enough to ignore that.

  “I guess I just feel a bit dirty. And maybe I would regardless of his job. I went around to his house and let him stick his hand down my pants.”

  Zach laughs. “I still don’t see the big deal.”

  “That’s because you’re a manwhore.”

  “Or maybe because you’re more judgmental and less open-minded than you think.”

  We climb off the bikes and stretch our quads. I have to hold on to the saddle to steady myself. “Maybe you’re right.”

  He preens. “I’m always right. And when you and that gorgeous man have lots of little tiny porny babies, I expect to be godfather.”

  I take a swig of my water and roll my eyes. “In your dreams.”

  I don’t see Carter for the rest of winter break, despite spending as much time staring out of the front window as I do finishing up my research. When Mom and Don get back from Mexico—their tanned faces glowing—I tell them things have been quiet, and there has been nothing going on next door in their absence. Their relieved faces are worth the lie, and I lie to myself that evasion really isn’t a sin. Not when it’s for their own good.

  A day later, I drive back to Stanford. As I pull my car out onto our road, I glance at his bungalow for one last time, the feeling of regret pulling at my stomach as I remember the night he touched me. I can’t work out if I am shamed by the whole thing, or if I’m upset we never got to see each other again. Either way, I am jittery and nervous for the whole drive back to Stanford, barely glancing at the ocean as I drive along the highway.

  As soon as I get there, I park and walk down to the Psych department to meet with my supervisor. We need to fine-hone my proposal into something worth reading. She scrutinizes my words, making deep red marks across the white paper, her lips drawn back into something resembling a scowl. I’m more nervous than ever; the future of my academic career rides on my proposal being accepted, and without it I have no idea what I will do. Eventually, she is happy with her level of criticism and returns the paper to me, suggesting I take more time and effort over the wording. I leave, feeling chastened and nervous when I walk back to the car.

  I keep my head down for the next two weeks, barely remembering to eat or drink, let alone find the time to call my parents or my friends. It comes as a shock when my cell phone rings and I don’t recognize the number. I almost don’t answer it, but ignoring it brings out my OCD tendencies, and I start to worry about hospital payphones and police stations. Of course, I accept the call.

  “Lila Scialfi.” My voice sounds exhausted as I answer it.

  “Hey, Princess.” Carter’s smooth tone assaults my ears, making every cell of my body come alive. I can’t even think what to say as I open my mouth and let the stupidest drivel emerge from my lips.

  “How did you get my number?”

  He laughs softly down the line. “I stole it from your cell phone when you were sleeping.”

  I blush at the memory and thank God he can’t see me. “That’s a bit stalkerish.”

  “I know. I couldn’t help it.” I can almost see him shrug. I should have guessed he didn’t have any scruples. I hate that I like his non-scruples. “I’m in your neighborhood and heading up to a party tonight. I wondered if you wanted to join me.”

  Pulling my lips between my teeth, I wonder what sort of party he is referring to. Somehow I can’t see him singing ‘happy birthday’ under a canopy of balloons, and happily partaking in a slice of chocolate cake. His type of celebration is altogether darker.

  And sexier.

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” My reply is hesitant, and he immediately latches on to it.

  “Come on, Princess, even Einstein had to let his hair down. All work and no play, makes Lila a dull girl.”

  And that’s what I feel like—a dull girl—in comparison to his bright and striking personality. I can’t shake the feeling I’m a dalliance to him, something different and out of the ordinary for Carter Grant to indulge in.

  “What time does it start?” I start to twirl my hair between my fingers, a nervous habit which drives my mom mad. “I can’t get out of the library before seven.”

  “I’ll pick you up at nine. Wear something short and sexy.” His tone is commanding and makes me squeeze my damp thighs together. I have to remind myself of his day job. I tell myself I’m never letting him come near me again.

  “Sure, I’ll put on a diaper.” My reply is sarcastic, yet I find myself wondering what clothes would be appropriate for a pornstar party.

  I hate myself.

  And I love what he does to me.

  At 8:45 p.m., I’m sitting at my dressing table, staring at my face in the mirror as I apply my mascara with a shaky hand. I can hear the loud bass of Marina and the Diamonds pumping through from next door’s stereo, and my foot starts to tap in time to the rhythm. My dark blonde hair is still in need of a trim, but I’ve managed to straighten it enough to look presentable. The ends fall past my shoulders and tickle my upper arms.

  By 9:15 p.m., I’m feeling angry and aggrieved. As soon as I hear his knock at my front door, I snatch it open and stand back, my arms folded in front of my chest.

  “You’re late.”

  “And you look hot.” Carter bends down to brush his lips against my cheek before running his gaze up and down my body. I’m wearing a silky white dress, the fabric skimming my curves and ending at mid-thigh. My winter tan gives me enough of a glow that I don’t feel the need to cover up with pantyhose.

  “Doesn’t make me feel better,” I growl, trying not to look at him. The way his jeans cling to his ass, his black t-shirt defining his chest, is making the urge difficult to resist. I keep my expression hard and stare back at him through narrowed eyes.

  “Let me apologize, Princess,” he says, amused. Dropping to one knee, he grabs my hand. “I’m so very sorry for being all of,” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes late. How can I ever make it up to you?”

  I can’t suppress my smile as I pull until he stands back up. His eyes sparkle mischievously as I swat at his arm. “You can kiss my ass.”

  “Gladly.”

  I roll my eyes. “Will I need a jacket?”

  He leans against the door, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. “If you want to feel overdressed.” The smirk never leaves his lips. I have to stop for a moment and take a deep breath. I remind myself once again we’re going to a party full of porn stars, not out for a nice meal. And it’s scaring the hell out of me.

  “Ooookay, then.” I grab my jacket anyway, in case I need a shield when we get to the party. I don’t care how out of place I’ll look, there’s no way I’m going to be parading around a patio in my birthday suit. I can’t even remember why I agreed to go. But then I glance back at Carter and see him smiling at me, and I have to restrain myself from launching my lust-filled body at him.

  As I walk toward the door and open my purse to take my key out, he pushes himself upright and curls his arm around me, his fingers gently brushing my hair from my shoulder.

  “You’re scared, aren’t you?” His whisper is like a caress against my ear.

  “No.”

  “Don’t be, I promise not to let the big bad wolves eat you for dinner.” I have to close my eyes as his words cause my skin to erupt into goose bumps. “Unless you want them to, that is.”

  Carter drives us to the party in his huge, black truck, and I can’t restrain myself from making sarcastic remarks when I notice the leopard skin seat covers. It seems his restraint in house-decorating hasn’t stopped him from pimping his ride.

  He takes my teasing in good humor. Holding the steering
wheel with one hand, he clasps my bare thigh with the other, his fingers digging into the soft, smooth skin. I change the subject and ask him about his week, expecting him to regale me with porn-filled humor. Instead, I’m shocked as he describes his long, hard-working days, filled with meetings and promos, as well as just a little smut.

  “Yesterday I was in Vegas, having to sign about a billion DVDs for a long line of women. They were queued out from the hotel and around the block.” His fingers tap a mindless rhythm against my leg. “They all thought they were being so original with their whispered propositions, pressing their panties into my hand as I had to keep smiling and signing.”

  A little part of me wants to stick it to those women, and parade Carter in front of them, yelling I’m the one he’s chosen to take to a party. But I start to wonder if I’m any better than them? This whole situation is making me second guess myself, question my motivations. I’m no clearer about them than I was two months ago back in LA. All I know is I like him, as well as what he does to my body, and he makes me laugh raucously.

  That’s more than I can say for any of my exes.

  “That sounds almost as interesting as my week.” I run my finger tip up and down his hand, watching as the tendons beneath his skin tighten in response. “I’ve had to retype my thesis proposal no less than five times. Each time I print it out and take it to my supervisor, she covers it in red scrawl, making me feel about nine inches tall.”

  “Sounds like we’re both getting screwed over by women who are only interested in nine inches.”

  Laughter bubbles up through my chest as I meet his eyes.

  “I prefer your nine inches.” I blush as I say it. His pupils dilate and his breath gets shorter. I’m half inclined to tell him to pull over so we can release some of this tension before we both get burned.

  We eventually pull up outside a mansion in Pacific Heights. I’m astounded by the elegance of the house. The beautifully maintained façade clearly hides whatever depravity is going on inside, and I turn to raise my eyebrows at Carter, who grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.

  “This place is owned by Randy Stone, the owner of ‘S.E.X.’ He set the company up back in ‘97.” By implication, Randy is doing pretty well for himself, and the expression on Carter’s face tells me he holds him in some esteem. For the first time I realize these people aren’t body parts in a sex show, but they’re real human beings. With hopes and dreams, and dollars in the bank.

  I feel a little ashamed of myself. I like to think I’m open-minded and liberal, but really I can be as judgmental as my mom and Don. I shake my head a little, to push the negative thoughts out of my mind, and square my shoulders, trying to give myself strength as we walk through the open front door.

  I also push my tits out, knowing they’ll need all the help they can get in comparison with the rest of the female guests.

  The party is in full swing. We have to push our way through a wall of people to make it to the bar, and Carter stops every few seconds to shake hands with the guys or kiss cheeks with women who seem inordinately happy to see him. He introduces me to some, but my mind is already fuzzy with the plethora of names, and my gaze blurs over at the extent of flesh on show.

  As I look at the guests I come to a few conclusions. Firstly, Carter’s level of beauty isn’t reflected in most of the male porn stars. As a group, they seem to be ‘okay’ rather than gorgeous, and for some reason this surprises me. I notice he is hugely popular with all the women. My stomach contracts with jealousy as they try to launch themselves at him, rubbing their chests against his, puckering up on his mouth, and I fume at the fact he kisses them back in a way he has never done to me. Secondly, the women are way too good looking for their own good. They walk around like they’re sex-starved, which can’t be true, can it? Either way, my hands twitch with the urge to drag his face to my mouth and wrap my tongue against his, marking him as mine.

  It’s all I can think about as we reach the bar. Carter stops in front of a clean-shaven middle-aged guy, who is propped up on the counter, an absurdly large birthday crown perched on top of his sparse, gray hair. They reach out and shake hands, before Carter turns to introduce me.

  “Randy, this is Lila Scialfi. Lila, this is Randy Stone.” I reach out my hand to shake Randy’s, but instead he grasps my wrist, pulls me toward him and drunkenly kisses my lips. I try to keep my face neutral, even though every part of my body wants to recoil.

  “Lila,” Randy slurs, as his fingers release my arm. “So beautiful. Jesus, Grant, where the hell did you find her?” I glance nervously at Carter, and he reaches for me, pulling my body back against his chest. I’m instantly reassured and lean back against him, my breathing steady as he kisses my hair.

  “Lila’s not in the business, Randy. She’s a student.”

  Randy’s eyes instantly light up, and I realize, to him, I’m another piece of fresh meat.

  “She’d look fucking gorgeous on tape.” He angles his head to try and cop a glance at my ass, and I lean farther back into Carter, feeling his body tense against me. “That white ass all flushed after a spanking would make me come in buckets. Do you think she would work?”

  I’m almost speechless at his candor, and only the fact I’m a guest in this guy’s house stops me from reaching forward and slapping his face. I can feel Carter’s chest rumbling against my spine, and I sense his reaction is the same as mine.

  “Lila will never, ever star in a scene, Randy.” Carter’s arms wrap protectively around my waist. “She’s doing pretty well at college.”

  “A man can dream.” Randy’s interest wanes and he turns back to the bar, his finger wiggling at the waiter as he mutely requests another drink. Carter uses the moment to pull me away, grabbing a couple of beers from an ice bucket at the end of the bar, taking my hand and walking us to another room.

  “I’m sorry about that; he’s not usually such a douche.” Carter’s voice is soft in my ear as he apologizes. “I want to punch him, but it’s his birthday. I’ll take a rain check.”

  I wordlessly accept his apology, brushing my hand across his cheek, my thumb grazing his lip, as I feel the warmth of his breath against me. Rather than pull back, I push against his mouth until my thumb scrapes across his teeth and touches his tongue, and he responds by closing his lips around it and sucking the rest in.

  My legs shake as I feel lust course through my veins. At this exact moment, I don’t care what he does, or who he does, I want him inside me, his hips thrusting against my inner thighs as he drives me insane with pleasure.

  Every cell in my body knows together we would be explosive. I ache to place a lighted match against the touch paper of my need. Sensing my desperation, Carter starts to rub his tongue against my thumb, curling the tip until the pressure against my pad makes me think of mouths, and moans, and hot summer nights.

  Pulling back from his mouth, I push my thumb against my lips and suck it in, my eyes never leaving his, the gesture so intimate I feel the hot sting of tears against my eyes. He slowly shakes his head and pulls me to him, our bodies so close I can feel his hardness against my stomach.

  And then he kisses me.

  Chapter 5

  Christ, can Carter Grant kiss.

  His lips are soft at first; lightly brushing against mine, his breath warm as I tip my head back to give him access. His tongue runs the line of my mouth before pushing and rubbing against the sensitive skin of my inner lip. As we begin to duel, my arms snake around his neck, my hands curling into his hair, and he grabs my ass and grinds himself against me, making me breathless as he continues to plunder my mouth.

  When we pull back, neither of us can speak. Carter’s eyes are clouded with lust, his lips looking bee-stung as he moistens them with his tongue, and I breathe rapidly in an effort to get enough oxygen into my lungs.

  He smiles when he sees my own eyes reflecting the same level of desire. He puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him as we walk toward the patio doors. My heart clatters
around my chest in response to his proximity.

  “Come on.” He steers me out through the doors.

  People have spilled out into the backyard to hook up, and I swallow dryly when I see a few couples having sex on the grass. Carter grabs out a chair, the scraping of metal against stone harsh against my ears, and sits down, pulling me onto his lap. He is still as hard as steel, and I find myself rolling my hips against him, loving the way his breath sounds in my ear as my ass caresses his erection.

  We are careful with our movements, and it’s as if he knows I don’t want to bring attention to myself in front of all these people. Rather than rub his hands against my chest, his clasps them around my stomach, hiding my movements from anybody who is interested enough to look. Within a minute, two barely-clothed brunettes are sitting in the swing chair to our right, almost eating each other’s faces as hands tug at bare breasts, their moans mixing with the vocals of the song pumping out through the stereo system.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from them as one dips her head, her teeth pulling first at one nipple, then the next. Her hand dips down and pushes inside the woman’s panties, the outline of her knuckles clearly visible through the sheer fabric.

  Carter is getting as turned on as I am by this free display. His breaths come harshly against me, his cock twitching with every rotation of my hips. Suddenly his hands grasp me tight, and he stills my movements, his body stiffening against mine.

  “If you don’t stop moving I’m going to come.” His strangled words do nothing to cool my ardor. “I haven’t jizzed in my pants since seventh grade.”

  His lips kiss the sensitive dip between my shoulder and neck, and I find myself smiling at his words. I curl my hand behind me until I’m touching his coarse, dark hair. I’m trying to picture him as a teenager, knowing nothing about sex apart from the things he’s learned from the inside of a porn mag. Something inside me clenches, and I twist around on his lap, my hands cupping his cheeks as I pull his lips to mine.

  “Can we get out of here?” I ask, his mouth swallowing my words.