The Princess and the Porn Star

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Wait,” she said.

  My eyes flew open. I slowed down, nearly stopped. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” Her reflection met my eyes. “Stop, stop, please…”

  Puzzled and alarmed, I did. “Are you—”

  The words lodged in my throat when she leaned forward. I wasn’t inside her anymore. Confusion spun my head around. I wasn’t inside her. What happened? Why—

  Rachel turned around. Still on her knees, she reached for my cock, and before I could make sense of what was happening, she’d pulled off the condom and put it aside. Then her mouth and hands were around my dick.

  “Oh, fuck…” I stared down at her, slack-jawed.

  She looked up at me as she took me deeper into her mouth than I thought she could. I was in heaven, watching Rachel—the real one and the reflected one—suck my cock. From here, I could see her naked curves and her hands and mouth working their magic. Like being the voyeur and the participant.

  “Fuck, baby,” I whispered. “Fuck, yes…”

  She stroked and sucked me with even more enthusiasm, squeezing tighter and mercilessly teasing the head with her lips. I gripped her hair, not enough to force her onto my cock or hinder her oh my God mind-blowing motion, but enough to keep me anchored.

  “Don’t stop,” I whispered. My eyes rolled back. My spine couldn’t decide if it was straightening or turning to liquid. My toes curled into the coarse carpet, and if I could have breathed at all, I’d have cursed from the sheer intensity as she drew my orgasm out, stroke after stroke, squeezing and fluttering just right until I couldn’t take anymore and managed to whisper, “Stop, baby, stop…”

  Rachel sat up, grinning at me as she ran the back of her hand across her lower lip.

  “Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me as I caught my breath. “And you didn’t think you could fuck while you were being watched?”

  She grinned up at me. “Well, if that’s what you mean when you talk about being watched, then sign me up any time, any place.”

  “Ditto.”

  I kissed her once more, and then we got up off the floor and moved into my bed. Once we’d settled under the sheets, some thought furrowed Rachel’s brow.

  “Something on your mind?” I asked.

  She hesitated, laughing shyly. “I don’t know, maybe it’s not the best time to ask.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay, well…” Another moment of hesitation. “When you’re…in front of the cameras, it is really that different?”

  I nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s not the same at all. Not even close. You just go through the motions. I’m more concerned with pleasing the cameras than pleasing her, and she’s more concerned about the cameras than me too. There’s nothing. No connection at all.”

  “But you enjoy it?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  “Well, there are times when it’s nothing but work.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded again. “You ever been in a relationship that’s pretty much dying, and you have sex with the person and just don’t feel a thing anymore? And it’s not even fun physically because you don’t even want to be in the room with the person?”

  Rachel groaned. “God, yes.”

  “Okay, well, it’s kind of like that, except there was never a connection to begin with. And sometimes I’m not interested in the girl, or she’s not interested in me. Or we’ve worked together before and don’t like each other. Sometimes I’m uncomfortable. Those positions that look great on camera are murder on the body, especially when you have to keep at it forever. Or sometimes I’m just not feeling it.”

  “Is it always that difficult?”

  “Not at all. I mean, it’s never easy, going for hours and hours on end like that, but sometimes, everything clicks, and it’s fun and hot.” Heat rushed into my cheeks. “That must sound incredibly sleazy.”

  “Not really.” She turned onto her side and rested her hand in the middle of my chest. “With a job like that, what would be the point if you didn’t enjoy it at least sometimes?”

  “Good point.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Some people get really weirded out by it, though. Especially if they’re in relationships.”

  “Is that common? Porn stars being in relationships?”

  “Hell, I know a few who are quite happily married.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “And some, well, not so much. One time, this girl had her boyfriend with her on-set. Which is fine. A lot of women do that. But she hadn’t been seeing him long, and I guess he wasn’t used to the idea of her being in porn.”

  “But he knew, right?”

  “Of course.” I absently put my hand over her wrist and ran it up and down her forearm. “But there’s a difference between bragging that your girlfriend is a porn star and actually watching her get fucked by another guy for hours on end.”

  “Yeah, I suppose there would be.”

  “There is. So this guy was built like a brick shithouse too, and I thought he was going to kick my ass.”

  “But he didn’t, did he?”

  I shook my head. “Fortunately, no. He sure made me nervous, though.”

  “I believe it.” She clasped our fingers together. “So you had to… You had to have sex? While he was watching?”

  I nodded. “In fact, I think in the final cut you can actually see me looking at him a few times.”

  Rachel giggled. “Wow. I still can’t imagine being watched while I’m having sex.”

  “Can’t you?” I ran the backs of my fingers down her cheek. “You didn’t mind when I watched you.”

  Her brow furrowed with confusion for a second, but then she laughed. “Okay, but it’s not like you were just standing off on the sidelines and watching. You were an active participant.”

  “True.” I paused. “All this, it…doesn’t weird you out, does it?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “Part of me thinks it should, but no, it doesn’t.” She met my eyes. “Is that weird?”

  “No. In fact, it’s rather refreshing.” I kissed the top of her head. “If people find out, they’re going to speculate, though, and they’re going to tell you all kinds of things about how I feel, what I do, all of that.” I lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. “But I promise you, this has nothing to do with what I do on a set.”

  Rachel smiled. She pulled me closer, and just before she kissed me, said, “I believe you.”

  And nothing else needed to be said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rachel

  THINK HE’S KISSED HER YET?—Olivia Taylor Spotted Ducking Out of Porn Star Buck Harder’s L.A Condo

  The sizzling chemistry between once-troubled singer Olivia Taylor, 26, and porn star Buck Harder, 29, is undeniable as the two cozy up in her controversial new music video for the single “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet”. But is that just acting? Or does the pop star, whose former squeaky clean image was shattered by drug addictions and out-of-control behavior, really have eyes for the five-time Skinman Award winner?

  Taylor’s behavior is no stranger to the headlines. A painkiller-and-cocaine habit overshadowed her previously successful career, as well as bringing her turbulent relationship with Oryx lead singer Dawson Wright to an explosive end.

  After her third album flopped even more miserably than her second, Taylor hit rock bottom. She emerged from rehab into obscurity, mostly disappearing from the public eye except for the occasional desperate role in train-wreck reality shows such as Blind Dates with Celebrities, and most notably, Marooned Celebrities, which resulted in Taylor and actress Jessica Hailey being airlifted off a remote island after both were bitten by brown recluse spiders.

  With Taylor’s disastrous history, critics have been skeptical about her comeback. Musically, she’s reclaimed her status as the princess of pop music, but skepticism remains about the longevity of her return to the stage.

&
nbsp; “[Taylor] has so much talent and the potential to become one of the greatest musicians of the twenty-first century,” says Wavelength Magazine columnist Errol Daniels. “It’s heartbreaking to see her destructive personal life lay to waste that talent and potential.”

  Famed producer Chris Merrit laments, “When [Taylor] first appeared on the scene as a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old with an amazing voice, she was compared to Whitney Houston and Amy Winehouse. I do hope the comparison ends with the music, but more and more, I fear she’ll follow in both their footsteps.”

  Though the pop star hasn’t yet shown signs of renewed involvement with substance abuse, those around her worry it’s only a matter of time, especially if the rumors—and photos—of a fling with the adult film actor are confirmed.

  Taylor was seen leaving Buck Harder’s Los Angeles condo just before nine yesterday morning, keeping her head down and refusing to acknowledge photographers as she got into an unidentified vehicle. Harder, star of such numerous pornographic films such as Skanks & Scrubs II, Nasty Cheerleaders II & IV, and Buck’s Bitches, emerged from the condo an hour later, attempting to stay incognito in a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. It’s not clear when the pair arrived at Harder’s residence.

  Representatives for either party could not be reached for comment.

  Sighing, Lee set his phone down on his kitchen counter. “So much for keeping it on the down-low.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize—”

  “It’s not your fault.” He took my hand. “Neither of us had any idea there were photographers hanging around outside.”

  I blew out a breath. “Any move we make from this point on, the media piranhas are going to be there to sink their teeth in.” I gestured outside. “They’re probably swarming as we speak.”

  He ran his hand back and forth along the back of mine. “You have more at stake than I do. Tell me what you want to do.”

  I avoided his eyes. “What I want to do and what I should do aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

  “Either way,” he said, his voice gentle, “it’s up to you. Whatever you want to do.”

  What did I want to do? Looking into those beautiful green eyes and listening to my heart beat the way it did only when I was around him, it was easy. I wanted to be with him. See where this could go. Find out if this spark between us would amount to anything outside the bedroom.

  Except he was a porn star. And I was touring. And my record label was breathing down my neck. And that should have made the decision easy too—we were absolutely not doing this.

  I met his eyes again. Nothing easy about this.

  I took a deep breath. “The label’s putting a lot of pressure on me. Especially after the video didn’t go over as well as they thought.”

  “Can’t imagine what they thought the public would think of it.”

  “Right?” I sighed. “So with all the changes they’re making to my image, and as much as they’re losing their shit over this”—I gestured at his phone—“I don’t imagine we can… I just don’t see how… God, Lee, I am so sorry about—”

  “Rachel.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. “This isn’t your fault. And I understand.”

  “You do?”

  Lee nodded. “You’re living in a fishbowl, and your livelihood depends on keeping everyone looking in happy, and if dancing with me in a video didn’t keep them happy, you and I both knew dating me wouldn’t go over well.”

  I managed a grin in spite of my disappointment. “Not even if it’s fun?”

  He laughed. “Not even if it’s fun.” His humor didn’t last long, and he squeezed my hand. “I think we both know what has to happen.”

  My shoulders dropped. “I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He cupped my face tenderly and kissed my cheek. “It’s better we do this now, anyway. Before feelings get involved.”

  “So, no hard feelings?”

  He shook his head. “None.”

  I blew out a breath. “Still, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He touched my face. “Our careers are what they are, and sometimes we have to roll with it.” He lifted my chin with his fingers. “And you can always hit me up on the Xbox if you want to blow off some steam.”

  I laughed halfheartedly. “I might take you up on that.”

  “Well, either way.” He smiled and caressed my cheek. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I give him a coquettish grin. “Any objections to one more for the road?”

  Lee pulled me into his arms. “Absolutely not.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  OLIVIA TAYLOR IS BACK!—What’s a Little Music Video Controversy When Your Tour is Sold Out in 87 Cities?

  Looks like Olivia Taylor is putting her music video scandal behind her.

  “Back At You” remains the number one single on the Billboard charts for six consecutive weeks, while her surprise comeback album, Battle Cry, is expected to go gold well ahead of original predictions. As she charges into the second week of her Battle Cry tour, 87 of 120 remaining tour stops are already sold out, and tickets are selling rapidly for the remaining cities. Additional dates are being added to keep up with demand. Risen Star Records declined to confirm, but rumor has it Taylor plans to head to Europe to promote the album as well.

  In response to the controversial music video’s widely negative reception, Taylor’s entire tour is said to have undergone a major last-minute facelift. Provocative dance numbers were apparently toned down. Costume designers in Los Angeles confirm expedited orders from tour producers for “more conservative apparel” for Taylor and her fleet of backup dancers and musicians.

  “There definitely won’t be as much skin on stage as there was in the video,” says one of Taylor’s dancers. “It’s still sexy but not quite as sexual, if that makes sense.”

  The sudden image shift comes as no surprise, especially on the heels of rumors of a tryst between Taylor and her “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet” co-star, adult-film actor Buck Harder. The pop star and those around her steadfastly decline any kind of romantic involvement, and the two have not been seen together since the morning Taylor was spotted leaving the porn star’s LA condo shortly after the album and video were released.

  “There is absolutely nothing going on between [Harder] and Olivia,” says an unnamed source close to Taylor. “They looked hot on camera, but they are not together.”

  Taylor herself told Carson and Baxter in the Morning, “He’s a nice guy, and we did spend some time together after the shoot. We’re not dating, though.” Laughing, she added, “I think my mother would kill me.”

  The adult film star did not return calls or e-mails when asked to comment. Taylor and Harder have not been seen together since Taylor was spotted leaving Harder’s residence.

  Taylor’s nearly sold-out Battle Cry tour continues this Friday in Richmond.

  I rubbed my eyes and sighed into the silence of my otherwise empty tour bus. The article should have brought a smile to my face. Risen Star had taken a huge gamble signing me again, and that gamble was paying off. Maybe I really could do this again.

  But here in the silence of the bus, ears still ringing from tonight’s show, I couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm. Even the post-concert adrenaline rush couldn’t keep my spirits up after reading that article. It didn’t help knowing that for the foreseeable future, every article, no matter how positive, would be tainted with snide comments about Lee and me. It was infuriating to begin with, but it was also frustrating because it reminded me of him. It reminded me of every night I’d spent alone since “one more for the road”.

  Guilt had been eating at me for the past few weeks. Lee had to understand, right? He knew what this business was like, and he’d said himself we didn’t have much choice. Still, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d used him. Just a few hot nights, and then, See ya, I have a career to run.

  I grimaced at my own thought. That hadn’t been
my intention. Not at all. But we both knew I’d worked my ass off to get back into Risen Star’s good graces, and even spectacular ticket and album sales didn’t give me the right to stop walking on eggshells. Not yet.

  Besides, what was the point? I wasn’t going to get into a relationship with a porn star. That, and a casual sexual relationship was fine and good, except it was kind of pointless when I was away more than I was home. Not to mention when the press was lurking in the background, waiting for an incriminating shot. It was like being a paranoid teenager listening for her parents to come home before she and her boyfriend finished; the clandestine crap got old fast and could be a hell of a mood killer.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, then lay back across it. My muscles ached and my joints throbbed. Business as usual after a show. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Kind of like the feeling that followed a vigorous workout: a good pain that said I did something.

  It wasn’t unpleasant, that was, with the notable exception of my ankle. Red-hot razor blades burrowed into the joint, and every muscle and tendon was on fire. I’d taken off my shoes the instant I was back at my tour bus over an hour ago, and I had taken a few anti-inflammatories, but the pain hadn’t receded much.

  Then I remembered the topical Lee had given me. I dug it out of my toiletry bag and sat on the bed again to put it on.

  The smell was a pungent combination of herbal and medicinal. Even a bit minty, which must have come from whatever ingredient made the ointment so cold.

  And all it took was one whiff of it to send me right back to my dressing room. Right back to sitting in a metal folding chair, constricted by tight leather with an ankle in three times the agony it was now. Right back to my heart beating faster every time Lee looked up from smoothing the cool substance on my skin.

  I tried to mimic the way he’d rubbed my ankle, following the contours of bone and muscle exactly the way he did. It wasn’t the same, though. It relieved the pain, but it intensified another ache that didn’t want to be ignored.

  Between the scent and the coolness and the motions of my hands, memories flooded my mind. A silent movie played in my head, blood pounding in my ears as I saw Lee, leather-clad Lee, focusing on my foot. Looking up at me. Laughing at something one of us had said. I pulled in a deep breath through my nose, and the ointment’s scent made the silent movie’s colors richer. More vivid. More real.