Closer: A Blind Date Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  Oh shit. That’s right, I’d promised to come home to spend some quality time with her, my first visit home since starting freshman year.

  “Yep, that’s right Ma, I’m going to drive up, so see you then!” I said with fake cheeriness. I hung up on a high note, but my chest felt tight, and a cloud of panic was descending on my brain. Not only was my stepdad going to war, but I had no way of paying next semester’s tuition. What was I going to do?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Melanie

  The crowds were raucous and noisy from behind the velvet curtain. I twisted the tie on my g-string and fidgeted uncertainly. This idea didn’t seem so good anymore.

  I’d been sitting dumbly in my dorm room, staring at the tuition bill again when my roommate Lauren came back from class, dumping her backpack onto the bed.

  “Hey Melly, what’s up?” she’d asked carelessly, tossing her jacket onto the bed. It was one of the distressed denim ones, the kind that looks beat-up but was actually really expensive.

  We’d gotten to be friends over the couple weeks we’d been living together, and I felt comfortable enough to confide.

  “Did you get your tuition bill yet?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah, that thing,” said Lauren, squinching up her nose. “It was fucking unbelievable right? Forty-six thousand? It’s fucking grand larceny, and that didn’t even include extra fees and housing,” she said.

  I shook my head slowly, feeling defeated.

  “It’s just that … honestly, I don’t know if I’m still going to be here,” I confessed. “My stepdad just got called up to Afghanistan, so he’s getting military pay now, and my mom doesn’t have the cash to make up the shortfall,” I said quietly. “I mean, I love Trinity, but my family can’t afford for me to be here, not really.”

  Lauren was silent for a bit. I could understand her awkwardness. As a rich girl, it was probably the first time she was putting herself in someone else’s shoes, and she probably didn’t know what to say. But Lauren surprised me.

  “Mel, you know I’m not from a wealthy family, right?” said Lauren slowly. “I mean, I have expensive shit and stuff, but I pay for it myself. I don’t have a Daddy Warbucks. In fact, I’m footing the bill here at Trinity on my own.”

  My mouth fell open. Really? Unless she had some kind of trust fund, I didn’t see how any eighteen year-old could afford this school.

  But Lauren just shook her head.

  “I dance, Mel,” she stated. Seeing my look of confusion, she clarified. “I’m a stripper at the Donkey Club in the City.”

  Donkey Club? Which city? What was she talking about?

  Sighing, she began to explain.

  “You know how I disappear every weekend to see my boyfriend up at NYU? Well, I go up to New York City … but it’s not because I have a boyfriend,” she said. “I’m a stripper at a joint up there called the Donkey Club. It’s not one of the high-end places, but there’s a niche for “school girl cream,” as they like to call it.”

  “In fact, I often bring a lot of Trinity gear up with me, and that’s my routine,” she said. “My spiel is that I’m a Trinity co-ed, wearing a Trinity bikini and skirt, and it all comes off over the course of a few minutes.”

  My mouth hung open. It was true that Lauren owned a ton of Trinity gear but I’d never suspected that it was a costume and props. I’d just figured she had a lot of school spirit.

  But I could kind of see it. Lauren was blonde and gorgeous with a worldly, experienced air. Guys would love seeing her on-stage, parading that perfect bod.

  Plus, she could pull it off. I’d never questioned that she had a long-term boyfriend in New York whom she visited every weekend. It fit in perfectly with her mature demeanor, the sophisticated way she smoked cigarettes and seemed to know everything already, despite the fact we were both freshmen.

  I took a deep breath and decided not to beat around the bush.

  “Do you think the Donkey Club would have room for someone like me?” I’d asked, trying to be brave.

  Lauren looked me up and down, taking in my riotous brown hair, curvy shape and alabaster skin.

  “I know they do,” she replied confidently. “Come with me next weekend, and you’ll pull in the big bucks, I promise.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Melanie

  This was turning out to be a bad idea. When we’d arrived at the club, the bouncer had eyed us skeptically.

  “IDs,” he ground out.

  “Please,” said Lauren haughtily, tilting her perfect ski-slope nose. “Don’t you remember me from last weekend? I dance here, I’ve already been vetted by management.”

  “I don’t care if you’re fucking Mother Teresa,” said the big black guy. “So long as you’re twenty-one.”

  But he seemed to recognize her and with a sigh, pulled the velveteen curtain back. We sashayed in, Lauren with the air of a queen, me like a mouse trying to find my bearings.

  “Stand up straight!” she hissed. “Arch your back! Look glamorous!”

  I did as she asked, trying not to feel self-conscious and shy. But of course, that was impossible. The Donkey Club itself was not a vote of confidence. A dirty low-slung bar took up most of the space, with three poles in the center, spotlights of gold highlighting the dancers wriggling and twisting. Peanut shells littered the floor and the clientele weren’t exactly the cream of the crop. I could see a couple missing teeth, some sunburns, steel-toed boots and cowboys hats all around.

  “Where do these guys come from?” I asked with wonderment. We were on the west side of Manhattan, in the middle of a concrete jungle, surrounded by skyscrapers and guys in thousand-dollar suits. Where did they find these rednecks?

  But Lauren just shrugged. “Listen, the customers pay and that’s what we’re here for right? We can’t dance at the bigger clubs because they want girls to work three or four nights a week and we’re not local.” That was true. We’d taken the bus up from Virginia and it’d been a hellish eight-hour ride, cramped and stuffy.

  Plus, I needed the money and was willing to do what it took. I followed Lauren to the back room, where she knocked before opening the door with a proprietary air. A seedy looking dude in an ill-fitting suit looked up, his hand stilling suspiciously beneath his desk, hastily switching off his computer. No doubt he’d been stroking himself to some porn.

  “Ralph,” said Lauren silkily. “This is my friend Melanie. You know how Renata quit last week? Well, I figured Mel could fill in on the ‘Dirty Co-eds’ video.”

  What video? Lauren had explained that we’d be stripping, but not that we’d be filmed. What the hell?

  “You know that new video Jack Strike is filming?” continued Lauren. “Mel would be perfect for Girl 2, you know the one that gets taken for the first time.”

  Now I definitely had to interrupt. This didn’t sound like stripping at all, it sounded more like porn. But Lauren glared at me and made a subtle gesture with her hand, rubbing her forefingers against her thumb. Oh right, I needed money and didn’t want to ruin my chances before we’d even begun. Grinding my teeth, I vowed to confront her about this unexpected development as soon as we left New York.

  But Ralph leaned back in his chair, so much I thought he might fall over backwards. He gave us a sleazy smile and looked me up and down.

  “Strike’s in LA, but he told me to collect audition videos from girls who came in,” he said. “You got one?” he nodded my way.

  “Um,” I stuttered. Of course I didn’t have an audition tape, I wasn’t looking to be a professional in the adult entertainment industry.

  “No, she doesn’t,” cut in Lauren quickly. “But let’s film one now, it’ll be easy,” she said.

  “Sure,” replied Ralph, swiveling his laptop around to face us. “I got a camera embedded here, just start taking it off when you’re ready.”

  I turned to Lauren, my mouth open, shocked eyes wide. What was I supposed to do? But she merely pressed a dildo into my hand and whispered out of the corner of her m
outh, “Fuck yourself with it, don’t worry, no one’s going to see except the producer.”

  And I turned back to the camera. Ralph leered and gave me a go sign, indicating that he was already recording. Shit, shit! I didn’t want to do this, but I needed the tuition money so badly that I started to dance. My face flushed and I looked at Lauren pleadingly for guidance, but she just nodded and gestured frantically with her hands.

  “Keep going!” she mouthed. “Waggle your hips, bounce your butt a little,” she said, miming the actions.

  And I closed my eyes, utterly humiliated, but with no choice. Slowly, I edged the trench coat off my shoulders. Per my roomie’s instructions, I’d worn a tiny black bra and panties with high, high heels, showing off my curvy hips, big boobs, the stilettos lengthening my legs.

  Ralph gave a wolf whistle, calling out, “Show some tit, work it baby!”

  Oh fuck, I knew I was going to be bad at this, but kept my eyes closed and pretended that I was alone on a desert island with a handsome, dark stranger. Make that two handsome, dark strangers with penetrating blue eyes. They were licking me here, licking me there, touching my breasts … and I pinched my nipple, pretending it was them. Ohhh! That felt good.

  Getting into it, I lifted my tits out of my bra cups and suckled one, pushing the puffy nipple in my mouth. Goddamn if I didn’t hear Ralph unzip his fly, no doubt starting up the hand job again.

  But I ignored him and kept suckling, swaying my hips sensually for the camera. Turning around, I bent over and pushed my ass back, my cheeks barely covered by the wisp of lace. Tantalizingly, I ran a finger up and down the rim of my underwear, pulling it to the side for a flash of my cunny, a glimpse of that steamy pink flesh. Teasingly, I dropped the cloth back in place, looking over my shoulder at the camera and letting out a low moan of arousal.

  “Ohhhh,” I murmured, licking my lips, the pink plushness enticing.

  Slowly, I picked up the dildo Lauren had given me and took a long, slow lick before forming a perfect “O” and delicately inserting the tip in my mouth. I let my tongue trail around the bulbous head, kissing and massaging the soft rubber, before sliding it down my throat, taking it deep.

  I thought I heard Lauren squeal with shock from my dirtiness. Yeah, I know I come across as a nice, conservative brunette, but I’m pretty slutty on the inside and have practiced a lot on cucumbers, zucchini and squash … pickles are my personal favorite.

  Slowly, I fucked my throat with the dildo, getting the toy massively wet, the soft rubber head visibly running down my throat as Ralph and Lauren watched with amazement. Then with a wet sucking sound, I pulled it out, and sat myself down on the couch facing the camera, knees spread, this time hooking a finger around my panties to sweep the crotch aside.

  “Like it big boy?” I asked, addressing the screen. Of course, the screen was black but I knew how these things worked. Bring the customer into the scene, right? Make them feel like they’re right there with you.

  Pulling my knees up so that my pussy was fully exposed, I reached down with two fingers and held my labia apart, pulling the soft flesh so that the lens could zoom into my pink pussy. My vulva was steamy and moist, my inner channel a hot pink, dripping with fluid and even pulsing a bit, beating with my arousal.

  With a soft moan, I circled the dildo around my clit, tossing my head back, before beginning the penetration.

  Oh fuck it felt so good! The massive head parted my lips, intruding into my tiny depths, stretching me and making me whine with arousal. I slid it in a couple inches, looking down with amazement at the sight of my baby pussy violated by this massive dong, and squealed again slightly as I stirred the big dick in my cunt, letting it graze my g-string, stimulating my sweet folds.

  But I wanted it deep, real deep. With a determined look, I grabbed the base of the dildo and pushed it into my snatch, the glistening pole disappearing inch by inch into my chubby pussy, the lips now stretched as thin as rubber bands. I squealed and moaned with the penetration, bucking my hips slightly, but making sure to keep my knees wide so that the camera could see everything.

  Once the toy was in all the way, the ten incher buried deep, I let out a deep sigh of pleasure, my body twisting sinuously on the casting couch. With a flick of my wrist, I began fucking myself, the dildo sliding with wet, sucking sounds.

  “Oh oh oh!” I moaned, tossing my head, twisting a nipple with one hand as my other fucked the dildo in and out. “Fuck me!” I shrieked for effect. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

  And my performance was grade AAA. With a roar, Ralph came, a great spurt of sperm jetting from his penis, arcing over the desk before landing wetly on some papers. He didn’t give a shit though. His eyes were glued to me as he jacked off, watching me fuck myself with the enormous toy.

  Lauren too, was watching with her eyes wide and mouth open. Although she wasn’t touching herself, her face was flushed and breathing elevated. Holy cow, I’d even aroused another woman!

  Inordinately pleased, I kept running the rubber dick in and out, making sure to fuck myself all the way to the base, letting my pussy feel the benefit of that ten-inch length. After about twenty seconds, I felt my crest coming. A tidal surge began in the base of my spine, and with a blast, exploded in my pussy, ecstasy and pleasure rippling in waves through my body as my twat contracted and spasmed on the toy.

  It was hard to control, I admit. The dildo had been deeply rooted in me, but my pussy spasms were so hard, so strong, that it almost forced the toy out, and I had to grip the base firmly to keep it in my snatch as my flesh pulsed with rhythm around the hard shaft.

  Finally, the last of the spasms subsided, and I opened my eyes, blinking slowly, giving a soft, sated smile. With the dildo still buried in my twat, I asked the camera, “Did I get the job?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stryke

  Shit, our stepsister was so fucking dirty. It was unbelievable how this turn of events had come to pass, giving new meaning to the words “perversity” and “irony.” Truth is truly stranger than fiction.

  Ralph, our man on the ground in New York, had called, his voice rough and harsh.

  “I got one for you,” he said with little introduction. “You’re going to want to see this one.”

  Now my brother and I are what you’d call adult entertainment producers. We’re still students at USC, but we enrolled in a class called “A Brief History of Porn” and immediately knew that our future lay in the adult industry. It’s not that we’ve given up on mainstream film. It’s just that mainstream shit is so fucking expensive, requiring a million sign-offs, a million dollars, a million permits, whereas with porn you can experiment relatively cheaply.

  So we’d dived into the trade with gusto, trying out new techniques, dialogue, all that shit, while making a shit ton of money. Flesh sells, I’m telling you.

  Of course, one of the most important aspects of any film is casting and in porn, it’s even more crucial to ultimate success or failure. We source girls from all over and are always looking for new talent. It’s just the nature of the biz you know? Young, nubile girls are always sought after, and we’re developing a naughty schoolgirl series preliminarily titled, “Dirty for Professor X.”

  So we’ve developed a network of scouts all around the country, mostly club managers who kept their eyes open for girls with the right looks and pizzazz. Ralph, for better or worse, is one of our best. It’s partly because he’s in NYC where there’s a deep pool of talent, but also because he’s experienced. He knows what we like and what we don’t. In: big boobs, curvy bodies, slutty attitudes. Out: Drugs, dependencies, daddy issues.

  So I’d been eager to see the footage. We’d seen a lot of audition tapes recently, but most girls don’t have the innocent, wide-eyed look necessary to portray a nubile co-ed. Instead, most had that worn-out, used-up look, which in porn is sadly common.

  I clicked the video icon and my screen blurred before sharpening, focusing on beautiful girl with luscious auburn hair and a curvy body to
-die for.

  I bolted straight up in my chair. Could it be? Holy shit!

  The performer was still staring uncertainly at the camera as I shouted for my brother.

  “Sax!” I yelled. “Get in here!”

  My brother strode over from the other room, busy in his job looking at “modeling shots” from some of our hopefuls. Guys are gross because they send unsolicited penis photos, but girls in the industry can be even worse -- we’ve seen interior photos of vaginas, anuses, deep creaming, you name it. And when you’ve seen as much as we have, it’s not even sexy anymore, it’s just a job, clinical almost, totally detached.

  “What?” Sax growled. “This better be good.”

  But when he saw the face on screen, his jaw dropped, and blindly, he reached for a chair, pulling up to the monitor.

  “Holy fucking shit,” I managed. “It’s Melanie,” I choked, pressing play again.

  And fuck, our new sister was absolutely magnetic. At first she was stilted and shy, moving robotically, but it only lent authenticity to the whole thing. She was the original nubile co-ed, doe-eyed and innocent. But it got even better. Soon enough, she warmed up to the camera and was working her tits and ass like a pro, flashing bits here and there, teasing the camera, letting us dream, our dongs stiff and hard.