Cam Boy

by Quinn Anderson

  Josh gave her a baleful look.

  Mike laughed. “Don’t pout. From her, that’s a compliment.”

  But Josh’s attention was on Colette. “So, am I in, or what?”

  Easy, newbie. Don’t poke the bear.

  Colette was already bent over her laptop, but she spared him a glance. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve earned another shot. Congrats, Dick. I’ll send you an email with some scheduling options, and then next time, we’ll film for real.”

  “Looking forward to it.” Josh hopped to his feet and scooped his shirt off the floor in seconds.

  Mike watched him with a combination of bewilderment and amusement. Either Josh didn’t like being shirtless in front of strangers, or he’d realized he’d left his stove on. “Where’s the fire?”

  “There’s no fire.” Josh directed his response at the carpeted floor. “If we’re finished filming, I can go, right?”

  Colette answered. “Yup. We’re all set here.”

  “Great.” Josh pulled his shirt on like he was being timed.

  It was silly, but Mike almost felt insulted. He’d stuck his neck out for Josh, and yet Josh hadn’t even said thank you. Of course, Josh didn’t know what Mike had done for him, but still. He could at least extend the usual after-performance courtesies. A simple Hey, it was nice working with you would have sufficed.

  If this seems familiar, it’s because this is how you treated Diego not two hours ago. Karma’s a bitch.

  Damn. He couldn’t argue with that. Nevertheless, maybe Josh didn’t know what the protocol was. He was new after all.

  Mike reached out and caught his arm. “Hey.”

  Josh froze with his face turned away. “What?”

  “You don’t have to rush out of here. You can stay behind and review the film if you want. It needs to be edited, but you’ll get a kick out of seeing yourself on camera. Also, just so you know, I thought you did great. It was nice working with you.” There. He’d led by example, and Josh seemed like the sort of person who needed praise. Three good deeds in one night.

  To his surprise, Josh tugged his arm out of Mike’s grip. “I have to get going. I have places to be. It was, um, nice working with you too.”

  With that, he headed out the door and disappeared down the hall. Mike heard the front door slam a moment later. Hard.

  Colette looked up at the sound, frowning. “What was that all about?”

  Mike stared at the spot Josh had just vacated, stomach churning. “I have no idea.”

  His first mistake, Josh realized later, was quitting his day job. Looking back, he had no idea why he’d thought that was the right move, especially before he’d auditioned. Thank God Colette was giving him another chance, or his “brilliant” plan to become a porn star would have been over before it began. Not to mention, he’d have no way to pay his bills.

  Although, according to her email, they weren’t filming again until the weekend, which meant he had four whole paycheck-free days to kill before he got his second shot. And thanks to his lack of steady employment, he had no way to fill those hours.

  Not that he wasn’t a pro at wasting time. He binge watched nine seasons of some screwball sitcom on Netflix—worst ending ever—and played Halo with A.J. until he thought his thumbs would fall off. He talked his friends into going clubbing with him on a Tuesday—which was almost as boring as staying in—and again on Wednesday. By Thursday, Monica stopped answering his calls, Darius claimed his hangovers were accumulating like rollover minutes, and even Ashley, their resident party queen, said she was tapped out.

  That left Josh with plenty of time to think about what had transpired at that house in Bel Air. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. Which brought him to his second mistake: he’d been utterly unprepared for what filming porn was actually going to be like. And nothing could have prepared him for Sean Hardwood.

  Josh couldn’t say what he’d expected, but he hadn’t gotten it. He’d known that there would be cameras and crew members and strangers he was expected to have sex with, but he hadn’t grasped the reality of it. The awkwardness. The stage fright. Schedules and lighting and editing, oh my.

  Then, at the height of his discomfort, Sean had broken through all of that. Josh was embarrassed to admit how into their kiss he’d gotten. If Colette hadn’t called cut, he was positive he would have let Sean do whatever he wanted to him. Sean kissed like a fucking pro, which made sense, considering he was one. But it wasn’t merely skill. It was heat. His touch smoldered in a way that felt too real to be feigned.

  And yet it was. It had to have been. Afterward, Sean had been all business. Talking about reviewing the footage and saying, “It was nice working with you,” like they’d just finished a business meeting. He was every inch the consummate professional—no more flirting or flexing or making bad ginger puns—and there Josh had been, breathless and turned on like crazy. He hadn’t meant to leave so abruptly, but he’d known that if he didn’t put some space between them, he was going to say something he’d regret. He had a big enough mouth when he wasn’t lust addled.

  He wasn’t claiming to be an expert, but it didn’t take one to know porn stars weren’t supposed to develop feelings for each other. Well, not feelings. That was going a bit far. But he’d definitely felt a spark of something the moment Sean’s lips had touched his, and in the four days since they’d filmed together, his interest hadn’t waned.

  Which was ridiculous. He didn’t know Sean. Sean Hardwood wasn’t even the guy’s real name. Josh had told “Sean” to his face that he wasn’t Josh’s type, and now he had a crush on him. God, his life was a dumpster fire.

  The night before he was scheduled to shoot his first porno, he lay awake in bed, staring at his ceiling and willing himself to sleep to no avail. Sean was at the forefront of his mind, like always. He wondered if Sean would be at Murmur Inc. tomorrow. Or would he be off at some other house, having sex with some other guy?

  That was a depressing thought.

  How did porn stars do it? Maybe that was the root of his problem. Among all the other things he hadn’t been prepared for, he didn’t know how to kiss someone and not feel something. He needed to remind himself that it was all acting. Considering the sheer volume of porn that existed, there was no way all those people were as into their costars as they seemed. It wasn’t possible. It was all fake. Like movies and TV.

  That was the lesson he needed to learn, and he needed to do it fast. It wasn’t just thoughts of Sean that were keeping him awake. He was going to film again tomorrow, and not some short teaser. A real porn video—the intimacy might be fake, but the sex wouldn’t be. He’d never had nerves like this before. His skin prickled like his blood was carrying an electric charge throughout his whole body. He could feel his stomach acid gnawing at the instant rice he’d eaten for dinner.

  No matter how nervous he was, he had to go through with it. He needed the money. Josh had no idea what financial security felt like. His parents were working class. He’d gotten his first job at sixteen. Minimum wage was all he knew, and getting a college degree hadn’t changed that. Porn seemed like his one chance to bust out of the tax bracket he’d been born into. He had to try, didn’t he?

  God, he hoped he didn’t choke again. He’d been told his whole life that he was so dramatic, he should be in theater. But that hadn’t translated when a real camera had been on him. Colette had told him he wasn’t a total loss, but was that because of Sean’s help?

  Much as Sean threw him off, Josh almost wished he would be there. Maybe he could coax out the same morsel of talent he’d gotten Josh to show before. And maybe he’d be shirtless again. With his perfect, taut stomach, and all those freckles. They seemed to swarm at his shoulders and then trickle down his chest, like they were leaving a trail of bread crumbs that led to his—

  Josh shook his head, his pillow rustling beneath him. Even if Sean was good for his acting, he wasn’t good for his professionalism. It would be better if he wasn’t there. Right? />
  Who knew porn was so complicated?

  Maybe I got a little ahead of myself.

  He must have dozed off at some point—probably exhausted from his mental back and forth—because the next thing he knew, his phone was blaring the hip-hop song he’d set as his alarm.

  Before he could reach for it, he heard swearing through his wall.

  “What the fuck, Josh?” came Will’s muffled voice. “Turn that off!”

  “I am. I am.” Josh snatched his phone off his nightstand and blearily tapped at the screen until Nicki Minaj’s voice cut off. “Sorry!”

  “It’s six in the fucking morning.”

  Chris’s voice joined in, “You’re making more noise than his fucking alarm, Will!”

  That launched a shouting match through the walls that Josh was happy to excuse himself from. Colette had sent him an intro email stating everything he needed to bring with him: two forms of ID—same as he’d had to show before his audition—a void check so they could set up direct deposit, and any medications he needed to “perform healthily.” He had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t have any prescriptions, so he figured it didn’t apply to him.

  There had also been an intimidating list of suggested hygiene practices, which included some obvious things, like wearing mild cologne, and some not-so-obvious things, like cleaning out his ass. And there were some things that were required, like showering, teeth brushing, and using deodorant before every shoot. Josh wondered if someone was going to sniff his armpits at the door.

  He got ready at lightning speed. Colette had instructed him to wear street clothes, so he threw on jeans and his lucky Jameson shirt before zipping out of the room. His belongings found their ways into his pockets, and after that, it was just a matter of getting to central LA. Which meant taking the bus. Joy.

  Josh wasn’t hating on public transportation. He was grateful for it and all its sweaty, smelly, uncomfortable glory. It wasn’t the glamorous entrance he wanted to make, and wedging himself between a woman with a screaming baby and a man who was muttering to himself didn’t put him in a sexy mood.

  Maybe if all this worked out, and he made as much money as he thought he was going to, he could buy a car. The thought was almost enough to block out the smell of exhaust with a hint of urine.

  One bumpy hour later, he found himself standing outside of a nondescript, three-story office building. It might have been the same as any other, except there were no identifying marks of any kind. No sign out front. No name plastered on the face. Nothing. Colette had told him it was to keep protestors away. Apparently, the address was unlisted as well. The only way to get to Murmur Inc. was to pass an audition, like he had. The way Colette told it, very few of the Bible-thumping jerks they dealt with were willing to go that far.

  Josh spotted a plain metal door on the side of the building, right where Colette had said it’d be. As he approached, his anxiety swelled up again like a rising tide. He distracted himself by thinking about Colette. He still couldn’t quite make her out. She was ruthless when it came to her business, of course, and intimidating as fuck, but little things made him think she cared about her employees a lot. Like how hard she tried to keep protestors away, and the way she’d threatened him for insulting Sean.

  Well, if this whole thing worked out, he supposed he’d have plenty of time to get to know his new boss. Though come to think of it, she reminded him a bit of Sana.

  Josh took hold of the doorknob at the same time as he took a deep breath. Here went everything. Josh opened the door and saw . . . nothing. An empty stairwell. He didn’t know what else there would be—an office, a boudoir, or maybe some sort of sex dungeon—but this was anticlimactic.

  The wall lights lit up the staircase just enough to make it creepy. He glanced around and spotted a sign with an arrow pointing up. New Arrivals proceed to Second Floor.

  Josh bounded up the first flight of stairs. There was another metal door at the top of the landing. He didn’t pause before he pushed this one open. If he had, he wouldn’t have been any more prepared for what awaited him on the other side.

  It looked . . . sort of like a hotel lobby. What might have once been an office space had been cleared of cubicles and desks and had instead been filled with couches and chairs. There was a large wraparound desk along the far wall, like a reception area. And most notably, there were a lot of people.

  Including Sean. Oh boy.

  He was standing up front with Colette and a handful of others, while everyone else draped themselves over the couches and chairs. And Josh meant draped. Half of them looked like they were posing for a magazine ad. They were all beautiful too. He’d never seen such a collection of attractive people, in all colors, shapes, and sizes. One of the women nearest him was so pretty, with her high cheekbones, ink-black skin, and limpid green eyes, that Josh spent a moment calculating how gay he really was.

  These must be the other new arrivals the sign had mentioned. Josh had expected to meet with Colette individually, but now he wondered if this wasn’t going to be some sort of group event.

  Oh God, am I going to have to have sex in front of all these people? Is this like a focus group kind of thing? Are they going to critique me?

  When he’d opened the door, no one had spared him a look, but now that he was standing there staring, people were starting to stare back. Colette was among their number.

  Even from across the room, her gaze was sharp. “In or out, Dick?”

  “Um.” He glanced at Sean, who wasn’t paying him the slightest attention. “In.”

  “Then by all means, take a load off.”

  He scuttled to an empty seat in the back, seemingly in the nick of time. Colette cleared her throat a moment later.

  “Welcome to Murmur Inc., newbies. We’re always delighted to have fresh meat.” She flashed a bright smile that had a hint of fang. “Congratulations on passing your auditions. You’re our newest stars.”

  The room broke out into applause. Josh didn’t join in. He was piecing together what was happening. This seemed to be some sort of welcoming committee. It made sense. He couldn’t have been the only person to audition. There must have been hundreds of applicants. That meant all these beautiful people around him had also survived the Hunger Games.

  Colette silenced their clapping with a look, and Josh thought, Confidence goals. “Consider this your new-employee orientation. Today you’re going to learn some of what you need to know to be successful in this industry. Though of course, your work is never finished. We’ll also go over company policies, safety procedures, and have a brief Q&A. At the end, if you still want to be here, you’ll proceed upstairs to the filming booths, and you’ll make your debut.”

  Another round of applause. Josh kept his sweaty palms in his lap. He glanced at Sean and immediately regretted it. Sean was looking right back at him, a smug smile on his face. The challenge was as clear as if he’d spoken words. Are you gonna make it that far?

  I guess we’ll find out. Josh refocused on Colette.

  “If you decide to stay, take one of our company handbooks.” She indicated a pile of small blue books on the desk behind her. “These will explain the intricacies of working here better than I can in the brief time we have. I’m going to give you a quick rundown of the highlights now, but it’s required that you read this handbook before your first week is up.”

  She opened her mouth to say more, but acting on impulse, Josh raised his hand.

  Colette blinked at him like she had no idea what nuclear power plant he’d crawled out from under. There was a rustle as everyone turned in their seats to stare at him.

  Gulp.

  “Yes, Mr. Reams?”

  Josh willed himself not to blush. “Will there be a test?”

  The staring intensified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean lower his head. To hide his face? His shoulders were shaking. Was he . . . laughing?

  “No,” Colette answered slowly. “There won’t be a test.”

  “
Then how will you know if we read the book?”

  If looks could kill. Josh almost swallowed his tongue.

  “I’ll know because if you don’t read the book, you will likely put yourself or someone else in harm’s way. The handbook has detailed instructions for how to keep all of you safe—from overzealous fans, physical injury, stalkers, bigots, and more. If you fail at any point to follow these instructions, I’ll kick you out so fast, Murmur Inc. will win the next World Cup.”

  A titter wafted through the crowd, but Josh could tell she wasn’t joking.

  Colette leveled him with a crisp glare. “Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Rule number one: never call me ma’am.”

  That time Josh laughed along with everyone else. Some of the tension in the room melted, and Josh dared to sneak another peek at Sean. He had a wide grin on his face, which confirmed what Josh had suspected: he’d been laughing before.

  “Rule number two,” Colette continued, “is to keep your safety and the safety of your fellow performers in the back of your mind at all times. This means following our hygiene standards, never revealing anyone else’s real name in public or in private unless you have permission to do so, minding what you say during interviews and at conventions, and most importantly, getting tested for STIs, using condoms, or both, depending. We’ll talk about that more later.”

  Colette went on to outline everything from their drug policy to how to deal with hostile fans. Murmur Inc. apparently had private security that dealt with protestors and any suspicious figures that showed up at the building, but when employees were at home, they were encouraged to contact the police and start paper trails on any potential aggressors.

  Josh fluctuated between zoning out and freaking out. It was becoming clearer by the minute that he knew nothing about this industry. The politics were boring as fuck, but some of the stories Colette told were downright terrifying. Apparently one of “us”—as she now referred to them all—had shown up at an unauthorized shoot once at a house and had the director tell her there had been a change of plans. He would be acting as the male performer, and the condom he’d said would be used had been nixed. Oh, and she’d be compensated in exposure instead of money.