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penpusherAdult Themes - Reader discretion advised
She entered the studio, smiling and extending her hand like she was greeting an old and beloved college classmate that she hadn’t seen since Junior year abroad. Except, we had never met before this moment. Her chaperone, a muscular but not completely intimidating gentleman in a dark suit paused to eyeball me. Part of the reason he didn’t seem like a threatening bodyguard were the pair of Nikes with a pepperoni pizza pattern he was wearing. I nod at him slowly and he seems fine with my demeanor.
“Have fun,” he calls as he turns back from the door and returns to the black Cadillac Escalade parked at the curb beyond.
“Hi, my name is *real name*.”
“Come in and have a seat,” I said, walking her over to the rig.
I had preset a tall canvas director’s chair for her. Two video cameras, one for a three-quarter shot, the other for a close up, were positioned, ready to record.
She removed her dark gray raincoat and was wearing a very attractive green and white mini dress. It took me a turnaround from hanging her coat before I realized the pattern print was marijuana leaves. A quick adjustment of the key and fill lights, a quick focus of the camera lenses and we were ready. Without prompting, she began.
“There are a series of questions that just about every civilian, that’s what we call people not in the business, asks me when they discover my profession. There are variations in both the phrasing and the order but they usually run something like this:
“Why do you do it? Is this the only way you could make a living? Don’t you feel ‘exploited?’ Aren’t you setting back the feminist movement? How are you ever going to have a real and lasting relationship? And what if you wanted to get hired by a ‘legitimate’ company? This will follow you like a… place something you consider horrible here… a tattoo on your face, forever.
“While I think that concern for my future is well-intentioned, my first response is that it is MY future. But, more to the point, it’s my present that matters most.
“I can assure you, I won’t be asking any of those questions,” I stated. “How did you start in the business?”
“I guess you could say my career began when I lost my virginity. My junior high BFF had an older brother, he was in tenth grade so two years older than me. He should have been at basketball practice but he sprained an ankle so he was laid up in bed. After I found his room, I don’t think he was happier about an injury in his entire life. I know I wasn’t!”
“Did your friend or her parents find out?”
“If they did, they never said anything. Even from the start I was very discreet.”
“And are you still close with your friend and her brother?”
“I went to a different high school, so we didn’t keep in touch.”
“Were you looking for sexual conquests through high school?”
“There’s no substitute for experience, and during high school I had my share. I got a reputation for loving sex. Some people angrily called me a ‘slut.’ Some of those people were full grown adults. I guess that was supposed to make me a different person, a more conforming to their needs and wants sort of person.
“After graduation, my needs and wants were to get out of there, so I came straight here to LA. My first job was waitressing at a burger joint on the Sunset Strip, but then this guy who came in there every day for a week told me he could get me a lot more money if I worked at his club. The place was actually a strip club near where the 10 meets the 405. Did you ever go there?”
“Strip clubs aren’t my thing,” I told her, staring into the lens. “They’re really for married men to get horny enough to go home and have sex with their wives.”
After a burst of laughter in recognition, she recomposed herself.
“It’s kinda true,” she nodded. “My burger guy was right though. I was making ten, sometimes twenty times my tips at that place. No more diners for me!
“Then, a couple of the other dancers showed me a website where they would get naked on camera and masturbate and viewers sent them tokens to do it. It was like a virtual strip club, only better because you could do it from home, as much or as little as you wanted!”
“Did you do better from the website than the club?” I asked.
“I sort of became obsessed. I bought my first townhouse exclusively with the money I made from the website, in just over a year. But that was being on cam every day, maybe four to sometimes six hours a night.”
“Now, three years later and since then, as I guess you know, I’ve been making films and doing photo shoots. And, occasionally, working as an escort.”
“What was the transition from the website to working for a company like?” I asked.
“For me it was just more work. There’s no one way to do it. Some girls start with the major websites, like Hustler or RealityKings, then decide to start webcamming because they’re getting a bigger percentage of the money. Others go the opposite way because it’s a way of making a name for yourself. You could be a Penthouse Pet of the Year or an AVN Best Actress. And once you’re out there and working, you get called by everybody. It’s a great way to see the world. I’ve been all over Europe, Australia, New Zealand, places I never even thought of visiting and I’m going there for work!”
“And you’re an award winner.”
“I won Best Starlet at the most recent Adult Film Honors. I was nominated for AVNs as well, and I’m hoping I’ll do better this year.” She smiled that gleaming smile into the camera.
“What constitutes a great sex scene? What makes it work, for you?”
“I guess I’m kind of funny,” she said, shifting in her chair ever so slightly “I get really turned on by the attraction that’s not supposed to happen, the forbidden thing that you are told cannot be. It always makes me extra hot because I know it’s wrong and that makes me want it more.”
And as she said that, she slouched down into her chair, hiking her dress above her hips and exposing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
The closeup camera lost her entirely, but the three-quarter camera got everything from her knees on up as she slid into frame, then lifted her legs toward the ceiling and then spread them in the direction of the walls.
“You know, this isn’t going to be used in the documentary.”
“Well, that’s your choice,” she breathed.
I looked through the lens and widened the shot as she widened her stance. “Are you trying to turn this into a scene?”
“That depends on how much you don’t want me to,” she winked, sucking her right index finger and getting a droplet of saliva to rest on it, then bringing the tip gently to her clitoris.
“It seems like the questions are done for now.”
“Except one. Do you think you can help me with this?” she said, fingering her labia open with the index and middle fingers of her left hand, while plunging that right index finger inside her with the other.
With a countenance that alternated between giggly schoolgirl and sultry masochist, she knew exactly how to create a sexual frenzy, even without removing her dress. Her facial expressions alone were captivating and hypnotic and magnetic. Like a compass, I found myself pointing north.
“We don’t have time for this.” I said.
“Then we better move fast.”
Fifteen minutes later, her chaperone returned.
“Dang it!” he said as he entered.
She laughed as he approached and then looked up to me. “I bet him five hundred bucks that I’d have you in under an hour.”
I turned to Pizza Shoes. “I’m very sorry.”
“I should have known better,” he said. “I’m so used to being around her, nothing she does makes me excited that way.”
“Did you get everything you needed?” he asked me.
“I have a few more questions. Is there still time?”
“I’d be happy to come back next week,” she smiled. It would be a great warmup to a Spring Fling party I’m throwing. In fact, maybe you should just come there! Several of my girls will be attending. It might just turn into an orgy. In fact, it better!”
“Let me know, then.” I said, handing her dress back to her.
A moment later, they were gone.
I wondered what I should do with the video or if I should just change the concept of the piece entirely. It could launch a whole new career for me…
//
This piece of fiction, loosely based on reality, was written for LJ Idol using the prompt The Blue Hour