Action

by Quinn Anderson

  He scanned the parking lot, surprised to find it devoid of people. Pretty much everyone at Murmur Inc. smoked. He couldn’t say if it was the sex part or the office part that did it. Both seemed equally likely. When he wanted a moment to himself, it was difficult to find. It seemed luck was on his side today.

  He stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a cheap, plastic lighter. He sucked down a lungful of smoke. Eyes closed, he luxuriated in the sweet, satisfying nicotine. He exhaled, took another puff, and hugged himself for warmth. LA had mild winters, but his skinny frame provided no insulation. The wind cut through him like he was made of tissue paper.

  Still, the cold helped to clear his head. Colette was right. He wasn’t in it today, and that needed to change yesterday. She hadn’t harped on him about it yet—not really, anyway—but if his work continued to slip, she wouldn’t hesitate. Desperate young actors were a dime a dozen. If she wanted to replace him, all she had to do was take a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard with a sign that read, No Experience Necessary.

  Pete couldn’t risk burning a bridge with one of the biggest porn producers on the West Coast. Whatever mental block he was undergoing, he needed to take a wrecking ball to it.

  At least he knew what his problem was. Well, sort of. The immediate issue was he kept getting sucked into his own head. There were so many little things to worry about in front of the camera. Was he making a weird face? Was his hair messed up? Were his abs flexed? Were his limbs in the way? He could go on.

  The idea that porn was considered “easy money” made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. In reality, it was ten percent sex and ninety percent stamina. A twelve-minute clip took hours to film. It was grueling, even for a seasoned actor like him.

  But that wasn’t all that was holding him back. He’d never admit it out loud—Colette would fire him on the spot—but in truth, his job just didn’t excite him anymore. The idea seemed strange, even to him. What could possibly be a bigger rush than life as a porn star? That was what Pete had thought when he’d first started. He’d hoped porn would get him out of his shell, make him more adventurous . . . Maybe even get people to notice him.

  And in the beginning, it had.

  He came alive in front of the camera. He said and did things he never would in real life. Now, however, it was a year later, and he wasn’t the new kid on the block anymore. A fresh batch of porn stars was always right around the corner: new faces willing to do more for less. Every day, Pete found himself less and less motivated. The regular sex was still nice, but gone was the shivery, almost guilty thrill he’d felt the day he’d stepped foot on his first set.

  In short, he was restless.

  It wasn’t like he’d planned on doing this forever. Few people did. He knew some women who joked about making grandma porn someday, but they were the exception, not the rule. Porn wasn’t most people’s end game.

  Regardless of Pete’s future plans, he needed to get it together, or Colette would decide it was time for him to retire whether he was ready or not. He couldn’t let that happen. Tuition wasn’t cheap, and he had no intention of graduating with back-breaking debt like his classmates.

  He took one more drag before tapping his cigarette out and tossing it in a nearby trash can. Then he squared his shoulders and whispered, “‘Once more unto the breach.’”

  Back inside, he stopped at a water fountain and gulped down a few much-needed mouthfuls before heading back into Booth Eight. Everyone was more or less where he’d left them, though Colette had returned. She was fiddling with one of the cameras, minutely adjusting a series of switches. She looked up when he approached. “Ah, Jaden. Right on time. Strip down to your skivvies, and be snappy about it. We need to get going.”

  Pete rushed to comply, shedding his clothes in half the time it had taken to put them on.

  “All right,” she said when he was once more standing in his underwear. “I want you two to really go at it. Show me some passion. Antoine, you need a minute?” She waved vaguely at his crotch.

  Antoine fondled his considerable erection through his boxers and then gave her a thumbs-up. “I’m good.”

  Pete stared despite himself. He really needed to find out what Antoine used. As something of a professional bottom, Pete was seldom required to be hard, but still. It might come in handy.

  “Jaden, you ready?”

  He nodded and slid onto the couch. “Yeah.”

  “Then we’ll pick back up with kissing. Don’t linger too long on that, though. We have plenty of shots of you groping each other. I want cocks out and lube on in the next five minutes.”

  They both saluted, and this time, when she called action, they kissed with enthusiasm. It was sloppier than Pete liked, with too much tongue and not enough lip play, but he bet it looked good on camera. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

  When Antoine reached for Pete’s underwear, he moved to help, lifting his hips so they could slide easily off and join his pants on the floor. His exposed cock was soft, but Antoine didn’t seem to care. He spent a moment palming Pete for good measure before moving on, sliding a hand between his ass cheeks. Pete, for his part, acted like every touch was ecstasy, letting out exaggerated moans at all the right times. Even he thought he sounded into it.

  Antoine hands grew surer on Pete’s body. Within seconds, he reached for the bottle of lube they’d stashed next to the couch ahead of time. He handed it to Pete so he could make a show of preparing himself, though that too had been done in advance. Pete slipped two lubed fingers easily in, and this time when he moaned, it was genuine.

  Moments like this reminded him why he’d stuck around for as long as he had. He was being paid to masturbate while a sexy man got ready to fuck him senseless. He could think of worse gigs.

  Antoine procured a condom from between the couch cushions and rolled it down his length. He lined himself up and waited for Pete to withdraw his fingers before pressing forward. There was no build up, no pause of anticipation before the big moment, just a blunt, stretching sensation that made the bright lights dim in comparison.

  Pete breathed in and out, relaxing as much as he could. Antoine, to his credit, gave Pete plenty of time to adjust before he sunk home. They had to stop a few times to get direction from Colette—which meant freezing in place, mid-fucking, while she arranged their limbs the way she wanted, like flowers in a vase—but for the most part, the scene was going smoothly.

  At one point, Antoine flipped him onto his stomach and started fucking him in earnest. When that happened, Pete lost himself in the simple pleasure skittering up his spine. He even managed to get off, though his orgasm was only superficially satisfying. He had a newfound appreciation for the phrase scratching an itch. And the scene didn’t finish when Pete did. They both had to keep going until the director told them they could stop. And Colette was nothing if not thorough.

  The four-hour mark passed with no indication that they were nearing the end. Pete’s energy flagged in a big way. His back ached, his muscles screamed, and all he wanted was to take a nap. Alone. Without anyone touching him. But Antoine was going strong. His dick jamming repeatedly into Pete was enough of a reminder.

  Mercifully, about ten minutes later, Colette announced, “We have enough now to piece something together. You can come whenever you’re ready, Antoine. Make sure the camera can see the big finish.”

  Antoine laughed and made a point of sinking deeply into Pete. “I could do this all day.”

  Pete spasmed, more from overstimulation than from pain. Even if he wanted to feel good at this point, he wasn’t sure he could. It was all beginning to be too much.

  It wasn’t the most honest move, but Pete knew what he had to do.

  He angled his hips up, allowing Antoine to sink deeply into him, and then clenched his sphincter muscles.

  Antoine swore behind him, and his most recent thrust quavered. “Jesus, you’re tight. Stay just like that.”

  “Oh yes,” Pete moaned, barely k
eeping himself from sounding bored. “Fuck me, please. I love your cock.”

  He kept his muscles taut, his body stretched out like a bowstring, and after a few more sumptuous groans, Antoine’s rhythm faltered. Even if he weren’t a sex worker, Pete would know what that meant. Sure enough, Antoine only managed to rock into him half a dozen more times before he pulled out with a cry. He massaged the base of his cock as the tip of the condom filled.

  Pete twisted around and pretended to watch rapturously. They held their positions until Colette called, “Cut! Wrap it. Or unwrap it, in Antoine’s case.”

  A chorus of laughter sounded from the crew, and with a signal from Colette, it was over. The crew members started breaking down the set before Pete had even moved into a sitting position.

  Antoine got up on shaky legs and offered him a hand. Pete waved it off with a polite smile. Standing wasn’t a viable option for him just yet. Antoine shrugged and headed for a trash can, likely to dispose of the condom.

  Pete watched his bare ass as he walked away, and then threw an arm over his face, blocking out the light. He was exhausted, his bangs were matted to his brow with sweat, and he was sticky all over.

  He was going to sleep well tonight.

  “Jaden? Got a moment?”

  Pete uncovered his eyes and lolled his head in the direction of the sound. Colette was standing next to the couch, eyeing it like she wanted to sit but had the good sense not to.

  “Need something?” he asked, slurring slightly. He yawned, mouth wide open.

  “You did good today. After our conversation, at least. It was nice of you to help Antoine.”

  “I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Don’t deny it. It’s a particular talent of yours. Not only can you convince the audience that you’re into it, but you can convince your costars as well. It makes them perform better. If it hadn’t been for all that moaning and writhing you did, the whole film would have fallen flat.”

  “Thank you.” He hesitated. “I don’t deserve it, though. I was just doing my job.”

  “Sure you do. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise. But as it turns out, your job is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  His heart somersaulted.

  She snorted. “Jesus, calm down. I didn’t think it was possible to go from sexpert to skittish rabbit in three seconds flat. I have a proposition for you. The role of a lifetime, assuming you don’t screw it up.”

  He raised a brow. “Right now?”

  “Course not. That’d be cruel.” Her smile was angelic.

  Phew. Thank God.

  “It’s tonight.”

  Pete’s groan sounded like an elephant’s death wail. Just the idea of filming again made his ass clamp up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can. I’m spent, in an imaginative variety of ways.”

  “Hear me out. I’m planning a new summer series.”

  “It’s winter.”

  Her eye roll emphasized the prodigious length of her fake eyelashes. “Brilliant observation, but as you should damn well know by now, anything with a summer release date needs to be filmed in the winter. We have quality standards to maintain. You want our films to look cheap?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Exactly. So, like I said, it’s going to be a big summer blockbuster. I’m talking heavy promos, teaser trailers, multiple filming sessions, the whole shebang. I’m going to call it Heat Wave. Pretty sexy, right?”

  “Sure,” Pete agreed. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Don’t be coy. Obviously I’m thinking of casting you in it. You fit right into my artistic vision.”

  Pete would have scowled if he’d had the energy. “Meaning I look the part. I’m guessing you need a twink type to play opposite some muscled bear.”

  “More or less.” She shrugged. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “The whole big top with little bottom thing is so played.”

  “Which is why we’re going to deviate from the script a bit. Heat Wave isn’t just porn. It has a story.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. It’s about a shy college student who blossoms over summer vacation with the help of an experienced lover. It’s a classic coming-of-age story. With lots and lots of fucking. You’ll love it.”

  “I dunno. Sounds pretty typical to me.”

  “Don’t write it off so quickly. This role isn’t like anything I’ve offered you before. There’s actual acting involved, for one thing. And scripts and photoshoots. Clothed ones. You used to model, right?” She nudged him with her foot. “When was the last time you were in front of a camera without your cock out?”

  “I can’t recall.” Pete’s mind was shutting down in rebellion.

  “Hey, focus.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face just as his eyes started to drift shut. “Tell me you’ll think about it. This is a huge opportunity. And, frankly, you’re lucky I’m offering it to you, considering how off your game you’ve been.”

  Pete frowned. “Not to push my luck, but why are you?”

  “Because you’ve made me a lot of money in the past, and we all have bad days. I see potential in you. If you give it your all, I think you’ll do great.”

  Coming from Colette, that was high praise. “Is the role mine, then?”

  “Do you really think I’d make it that easy for you? You’ll have to audition, but if you and the lead have the right chemistry, it’s steady work. And steady pay.”

  At that, Pete perked up. “How much are we talking?”

  “More than you’ve made doing the odd anal scene here and there.”

  Pete wavered. In this industry, even the big names had no guarantees about where their next paycheck was coming from. Job security was worth more than gold. And if he said no, Colette would be certain to remember this the next time a big role was up for grabs. Still, he had to look after himself. He wouldn’t be any good to anyone if he sexed himself ragged.

  “Who’s the lead?” he asked. “Or are you auditioning for that role too?”

  “Oh no, we know exactly who your potential leading man is. He’s something of a rising star. I’ve been dying to work with him, but he’s a crossover.”

  “Ah. He does straight porn too?”

  “Did straight porn. My understanding is he’s crossed over for the last time.”

  “Really?” Pete rubbed his chin. “So, is he straight, or bi, or what?” He knew a lot of gay men who thought banging a straight guy was the ultimate fantasy, but Pete preferred partners who weren’t likely to have an identity crisis in the middle of a shoot.

  “No clue. He’s probably like your new buddy, Antoine. Straight as a wicket, but he knows there’s way more money in gay porn, so here he is. That’s the kind of business acumen I admire in today’s youth.” She flashed a toothy grin. “Either way, he comes with a whole truckload of logistical complications, thanks to how the straight side of porn handles STIs. I had to wait for him to get tested and cleared before I could cast him in anything.”

  “Jesus. Call me old-fashioned, but I vastly prefer Murmur Inc.’s policy: condoms, condoms, condoms.”

  “Well, if you do well in your audition tonight, you can double bag it for all I care.”

  He started to cite something he’d read once in a pamphlet about how that was actually less safe, but then he realized she was joking. “This guy must be an amazing fuck if you’re willing to go through all that just to work with him.”

  Colette gave him a stern look. “I know we’re sex workers, but you don’t have to be so crude.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “I’m just fucking with you. It’s nice to see you unclench. And you’re right, by the way. He’s extra effort, but he’s worth it. If I have my way, he’ll be a regular addition to our roster.”

  “Do I get to know his name?”

  “No, I know you. You’ll google him and make all sorts of assumptions. I want you to meet him and let first impressions speak for themse
lves. I have a feeling you two are going to hit it off. I’ll text you the time and place of the audition. Say you’ll be there?”

  After a lengthy pause, Pete said, “I’ll think about it.”

  “Wise decision.” She patted him on the shoulder and then wiped her hand on her jeans. “I’ll let you recuperate. Go shower or meditate or whatever it is you need to do. I’ll see you later.”

  When she’d gone, Pete sagged back against the couch, not even caring that he was still naked. He felt like he’d just waged some sort of battle. And lost.

  Antoine had disappeared—he’d probably scurried away before Colette could get him in her sights—but the production team was still packing up. Pete watched them idly while he mulled over Colette’s proposal. He needed the money. He always needed the money. But could he really handle two shoots in one day? Colette had said it was just an audition. That usually meant sex, but not always. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do much.

  The internal debate must have overwhelmed Pete, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up. He looked around, bewildered by the unfamiliar couch he was on and the blank walls all around him. A moment later, he remembered where he was.

  “Shit,” he said to the empty room. Everyone else was gone. It wasn’t unusual for porn stars to nap between sets, so probably no one had thought to wake him. Pushing himself onto shaky legs, he located his jeans and slid his phone out of his back pocket.

  “Shit,” he repeated when he saw the time. He’d been asleep for hours. Good thing he’d had the foresight to tell his mom he might be late for dinner.

  His notifications alerted him to a new text he’d received. An address and a time flashed onto the screen. Colette’s audition. He would love to pretend he’d forgotten, but he suspected even his unconscious self had been fretting about it.

  The address looked like a residence at first glance. That wasn’t surprising. Porn was often filmed at people’s houses. From the zip code, Pete guessed it was in Pasadena. He could google it to be sure, but he estimated it’d take him twenty minutes to drive there.