by Alexa Land
I did a quick count as the door swung shut behind us. My naked butt was featured in eleven of the nineteen posters hanging around the lobby. The worst of the lot was a ten-foot high publicity shot that hung right behind the reception desk. In it, I was upright on my knees against a white background, looking back at the camera over my shoulder with a serious expression. My arms were crossed behind me and bound with rope at the small of my back – high enough so they weren’t blocking the view of my bare ass.
I sighed quietly, and Brian said, “Well, damn.” A little teasing grin played on his lips.
“Oh God,” I murmured.
“And here, all this time, I had no idea I was hanging out with the most famous, and apparently most photographed, butt in all of San Francisco.”
I burst out laughing at that. Then I leaned down and kissed him, and said, “Shut up, Brian.”
“Make me.” He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me again.
When I came up for air, I said, “You know we have an audience, right?” There were seven or eight men seated in the spacious waiting area, and all of them were looking at us. This wasn’t unusual. Most of the men that visited the offices were porn star wannabes, hoping for their big break. And virtually all of them recognized me.
“Yeah, I had actually noticed the fact that every single person in here is staring at us.” Brian smiled at me.
“And you’re okay with that?”
He just shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It takes getting used to, being the center of attention like that.” I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and draped my arms around his shoulders.
He changed the subject by saying, “So, since we’re fifteen minutes early for your appointment, will you do something for me?”
“Sure. Like what?”
“Tell me about some of these films.” He swung his chair around and took us to a poster in a corner of the lobby, the one farthest from the prying eyes in the waiting area. In this particular picture, I was on my knees and naked, looking up at a big, naked, musclebound African American guy, my head blocking the view of his junk, my hands on his big thighs.
“Why?”
“Because this is a part of your life,” Brian said, “and you’ve banned me from actually watching any of them.”
“So, what do you want me to tell you? There’s not much plot, you know.”
“Anything. What was it like making this movie? How long did it take to film? Did you like your costar?”
“Okay,” I said, idly caressing Brian’s long hair as I thought about my answer. “Well, most of my movies take one or two days to film, and here, my costar was Brock Brannen. That’s his stage name, he’s Jimmy in real life. He’s a nice guy, and he’s married to a sweet former model named Lettie. His wife has a baby on the way.”
“He’s…wait, what?”
“Jimmy’s known for straight porn, but occasionally does crossover work. You know, gay-for-pay and all that? We’ve made five films together so far, and will probably make more because they’re really popular. I think people like the fact that we’re such physical opposites. The set-up for this particular film,” I said, gesturing at the poster, “was that Jimmy was a personal trainer, and I played a new client at his gym. He had to…um, whip me into shape.”
“Do you mean that he literally whipped you?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t realize your films were so hardcore S & M.”
“They’re not. They’re fairly mainstream, actually. Man-on-Man does have a hardcore BDSM offshoot and an on-site dungeon, but that’s not what I do. My films are the lighter end of that spectrum. I almost always get tied up, and at least spanked, sometimes a bit more, but that’s it. My fans don’t want to see full-on torture.”
“You got whipped in this one, though.” He tilted his head toward the poster.
“Well, yeah. But even when it comes to something like whipping, there are different gradations. Jimmy used a fairly soft cat-o-nine-tails on me. It looked impressive on camera and it did sting a bit, but it only reddened me, it didn’t raise welts or break the skin. As far as whipping goes, it was really mild, and it was mainly included in this particular film because the director couldn’t pass up the pun, ‘whipping me into shape’ at the gym.”
“What were your feelings about being whipped?”
“Honestly? I thought it could have been a lot rougher,” I said.
“And that would have been okay with you?”
“Some part of me takes pleasure in pain,” I admitted. “Not that I ever wanted to cross over into the hardcore end of this business, or in my personal life, for that matter. But being spanked gets me so hard. I don’t know why, I’ve never really understood that part of myself. And just like being tied up, it’s not something I’ve ever been comfortable exploring with strangers.”
Brian’s blue eyes searched my face. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me this stuff.”
“I’m an open book, especially in terms of my sexuality. Actually, most of my sexual development has happened on-screen. When I first came to this company, I’d only ever slept with Cole, and like I told you, he’d been very closed off in terms of sexual exploration or experimentation. It wasn’t until my ninth movie that the director thought to tie me up, and you can actually see my personal revelation on film if you’re watching for it. The moment the ropes were put on my body, I went from pretending I was aroused and enjoying myself to the real thing. I came to life all of a sudden.”
“Would you let me watch that film with you, the one where you’re tied up for the first time? I’d love to see your sexual awakening.”
I said quietly, “We talked about this, Brian. I don’t want you to see me like that.”
He looked at me for a long moment, running the back of his hand down my cheek. And then he said simply, “Okay.”
I looked up at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “If you still don’t want me to watch your films, then I won’t.” I hugged him tightly. After a while, Brian ventured, “So, hypothetically, if you ever got in a committed relationship, would you still continue in this line of work?”
That made me sit up and grin at him. “A hypothetical relationship with who, exactly?”
“Well,” he said, breaking eye contact, “like…with me, for example.”
I grinned at that. “Have you been giving this some thought?”
“I mean, supposing I went back into therapy and got my shit sorted out,” he mumbled. “Not that you’d want a relationship with me anyway.”
I shifted my position so I was straddling his lap, tilted his chin up and kissed him deeply. When I finally pulled back and looked into his eyes, I said, “Oh, I wouldn’t, would I?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’d actually consider having a relationship with me? What are you, nuts?”
I chuckled at that. “Haven’t I already made it clear to you, Brian?”
“That you’re nuts? Yeah, pretty much,” he teased, the start of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“That I’d want a relationship with you, you ass!” I said with a laugh.
“Well, no, not really. You’ve made it pretty clear that you’d lower your standards enough to sleep with me, though.” He gave me a big smile.
“So,” I said, “if, hypothetically, we began a relationship, despite your ongoing protests that you can’t and won’t get involved with me, would you have a problem with my line of work?”
“Yeah. Big time. If you and I were really involved, hypothetically speaking, then no fucking way on Earth would I share you.”
“I mean, it’s not really sharing me….”
“I believe in monogamy, plain and simple. I really can’t begin to get why that Jimmy guy’s wife is apparently okay with him going off and having sex with other people.” I started to say something, but he cut me off by adding, “And if you’re about to say it doesn’t count because a camera’s rolling and it’s all just scrip
ted, that’s bullshit. If you were mine, you’d be mine alone. End of story.”
“Hypothetically speaking.”
“It’s probably not just me. I’d think most guys would have a hard time with their partner having sex with other people. Do you really think, as long as you’re in this line of work, that you’ll ever be able to have a relationship with anyone?”
I climbed off his lap, feeling self-conscious, and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Some guys like the fact that I’m a porn star. They think it’s hot.”
“But do they want to have a relationship with you, or do they just want to sleep with you?”
“Screw you, Brian!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a step back from him.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m not trying to be insulting. I’m just saying, this is a shitty career choice, for a lot of reasons. I don’t think it’s done wonders for your self-esteem, I think it makes men undervalue you, and I think if you ever try to have a relationship, your job is going to be a major issue. It doesn’t matter if that’s with me, or with someone else. Any guy that really loves you wouldn’t want you doing this.”
“Well, then it’s a damn good thing no one loves me,” I snapped. “Because, newsflash, Nolan. There aren’t exactly a ton of awesome job opportunities out there for a stupid kid like me, so it’s either porn, or a lucrative career in the fast food industry.”
“You just called yourself stupid and used the word ‘lucrative’ in the same sentence. You’re so much brighter and more capable than you give yourself credit for, Hunter.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be sure to include that on my resume: B-average high school graduate with work experience including unpaid farm hand, stock boy at Safeway, and porn star, but ready for a fast-track Fortune 500 management position because my vocabulary doesn’t totally suck.”
Brian smiled at me. “Don’t forget to include a bullet-point about being a smartass.”
I knit my brows at him. “You’re not helpful.”
“You’re better than this, Hunter,” he said, his expression turning serious as he gestured at the poster.
“See, that’s the thing. I’m not. I’m lucky to have this. If I hadn’t been discovered in that nightclub, I’d probably be working three minimum-wage jobs just to try to make ends meet in this crazy-expensive city. I’d be nowhere. I’d be nothing.”
“You’ll never be nothing, Hunter. Even if you had some crappy job that involved wearing a paper hat, even then, you wouldn’t be nothing. You’d simply be this special, amazing individual that happened to have a shitty job.”
I turned my back to Brian as my emotions welled up and I fought the urge to argue with him. Of course I’m nothing, I wanted to say. Why can’t you see that? He came up right behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, then rested his head on my back. After a moment, I wrapped my hands around his. Finally I said, “The word ‘special’ makes it sound like I belong on the short bus. And I don’t want a job with a paper hat.”
He chuckled at that. “It’s not like those are your only two choices, porn or the golden arches.”
I turned to face him, and ran my thumb randomly over his thick eyebrow. “I have maybe three years left where I can make good money in this industry. I already look a bit older than twenty-two, and my specialty is playing sweet, little innocents, which is kind of an insane stretch after making nearly forty adult films, but my audience still buys it. My point is,” I said, resting my hands on Brian’s shoulders as his encircled my waist, “this career has a shelf-life, it’s not forever. I haven’t really thought about what I’m going to do when it ends, but I sure as hell know it won’t pay as well as this. My current two-year contract is ending in just a few weeks, and my manager’s currently negotiating a three-year extension that’ll pay me twice what I’ve been making. No freaking way would I pass that up.”
“Not even for me?” He held my gaze steadily as he said that.
“For you? How many times have you told me you can’t and won’t begin a relationship with me?”
“But…what if I could?”
“What are you saying, Brian?”
“I’m saying, don’t sign that new contract. Please? Don’t do that to yourself.”
“That’s not all you’re saying.”
“No,” he said, “you’re right. I’m also saying that I want you, Hunter. I want you so fucking much, and we already have so many obstacles to overcome. Please don’t add another one.”
Just then, the young, freckled redhead behind the reception desk called across the big lobby, “Mr. Storm? Mr. Bryer is ready for you now.”
I nodded at him, then turned back to Brian and looked in his eyes. There was such turmoil in them. I bent down and kissed him, then said, “I need to go to this meeting. And I’m not signing anything today, don’t worry. I’ll text you when it’s over, in case you want to go out and explore the neighborhood.”
He nodded and cleared his throat, then said, “I think I will. See you soon.”
I crossed the lobby and pushed open the connecting door to the offices, then glanced over my shoulder. Brian was right where I left him, watching me. He gave a little salute and headed for the exit, now that he knew I was safe.
Brad Bryer, my manager and the man who discovered me, always looked like he’d just stepped off a golf course. He was in his forties, fairly well-built and a bit too tan, with highlighted brown hair and a terrible habit of wearing brightly-colored polo shirts with the collar turned up, as if it was still 1985 in his version of reality. “Hunter, sweetheart!” he exclaimed, coming around his needlessly huge desk and taking me in his arms. He swooped in for a kiss but I turned my head, so it landed on my cheek. Somehow, the message behind that was lost on him, and he groped my ass as he said, “It’s been way too long, sweetheart. I cleared two hours for us, so we can take care of business before we take care of business.”
So, okay, I wasn’t proud of the fact that I used to let my manager fuck me. If the truth be told, I used to let pretty much everyone fuck me. To me, it kind of went with the job. My audition two years ago, after all, had taken place with Brad right in this very office, right on that very desk, with a little camcorder recording the whole thing.
He’d told me to undress, then stuck his cock in my mouth within ninety seconds of the start of the ‘interview.’ Ten minutes later, he was fucking me in every position imaginable. And naïve me, dumb little farm boy from Idaho, had gone along with all of it. I’d let him do anything he wanted to me, even though I’d been terrified and started crying halfway through. When he’d noticed the tears, he’d asked if I wanted to stop, but I’d told him no. I told him to keep going, because I desperately needed this job.
And so he did. He kept fucking me with that little silver Sony pointed at us. As he fucked me, he kept telling me how beautiful I was, how famous I was going to be, how much money I was going to make. Actually, he delivered on all his promises. I did become famous, and the money was incredible, and after my fourth or fifth film, I stopped wrapping up each day on set by crying myself to sleep.
What never did stop was Brad fucking me any time he felt like it. He’d even do it right in front of people, and pretty soon, the crew got the idea that I was just this little slut, there for everyone’s use and entertainment. So, I’d spend all day getting fucked on camera, and then when filming wrapped, the crew would take turns with me.
I know how that sounds. I know I acted like a whore…and maybe that was all I really was. Maybe that was all I was good for.
It had been like this for two years. I’d never once turned Brad down when he wanted to have sex with me. So when the word stop came from me, small and unassertive, he totally ignored it.
I tried again as he lifted me onto his desk and began to undress me, pushing Christopher’s hoodie off my shoulders with one hand while he reached for my belt with the other. “Stop,” I said again, trying to put a little more force behind it.
His hands were all over my
body. He’d be inside me in less than a minute. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want him to fuck me.
“Stop!” I yelled it that time, loudly, forcefully, and Brad pulled back abruptly, staring at me in confusion. He was shocked when I freed myself from his grasp, slid off the desk and said, “I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I belong to someone now.” My answer surprised me. And it wasn’t entirely true…although I wished it was. I should have just said, because I don’t want to, I really didn’t owe him any further explanations.
The truth was, though, that I didn’t want to have to go back out to the lobby and face Brian after letting this man use me. Brian…who thought I was more than this, who looked at me like I was something special. He didn’t want me, not really, and made excuses for why we couldn’t be together. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to try to become something better, someone worthy of him.
I tugged my clothes back into place as I said, “I need to talk to you about something serious.”
“You’re pissed at me,” Brad guessed, adjusting his hard-on through his khakis and going back to his enormous chair behind his enormous desk.
“No, not at all.”
“Is it because of the new contract? I told you I was trying to get Bart to up the dollar amount. He already approved a hundred percent raise while only requiring ninety films over three years, but I’m pushing for a hundred and twenty percent. I keep telling him you’re worth every penny, and he’s so close to agreeing.”
Oddly, my manager not only shared office space with the company that held my contract, but that company was owned by his brother, Bart. Brad didn’t work exclusively for Man-on-Man Productions though. He placed and represented boys at companies throughout the U.S. He told me his brother got ‘the pick of the litter,’ but that wasn’t really true. Bart really had to work for the boys he wanted, just like any other client, because Brad didn’t believe in playing favorites. He believed in cold, hard cash.