Chapter 19 – Invitation

When Chloe opened her eyes at around 11 a.m. on Tuesday and slowly stretched, her body felt like it did after a particularly intense yoga session. But it was nowhere near as bad as after Throat Me. Apparently, her body was actually getting used to the physical demands of this shitty job.

At least all those years of yoga have paid off.

She reached for her phone and scrolled aimlessly through Instapic while trying to find the motivation to get up. The direct messages were full of dick pics and suggestive comments.

But Ben’s message from last night was also lurking on her phone. The invitation to Valeria Cruz’s private party on Saturday.

A cold feeling spread through her stomach. She knew she had to go. There was no choice. Valeria was her prime suspect, but these parties… the rumors on Threadit had been quite ominous. “Secret sex parties”, someone had written.

Stop. Don’t think about it now.

Chloe forced herself out of bed and rolled out her yoga mat to clear her head. Her knees still hurt a little, but it was bearable.

She was in the middle of her Kegel exercises – twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three – when her phone rang.

Ben Ziegler.

She took a deep breath, switched into Chloe Heart mode, and answered.

“Ben! Hi!”

“Sunshine!” His voice was unusually energetic, almost excited. “I hope I’m not waking you up?”

“No, of course not! I’ve been awake for hours!”

“Good, good. Listen, about the party on Saturday…” She could hear him typing in the background. “I have all the details now. 8 p.m. in Valeria’s villa in the Ventrue Hills. I’ll send you the address.”

“Oh my God, I’m so excited!”

“You should be.” His tone became more serious and condescendingly fatherly. “These invitations are extremely exclusive, Chloe. Only select performers get them. Most girls in the industry would kill for this opportunity.”

Pressure me a bit more obvious, Ben.

“There will be very important people there,” Ben continued. “Investors, a few celebrities, good friends and business partners of Valeria’s.”

“Wow, that sounds… important.”

Ben laughed. “See, that’s what I like about you, Sunshine. You get it. You’re smart.” His tone changed subtly, becoming warmer. “Remember what we talked about at dinner? About the difference between performers who make it and those who disappear?”

“Of course.”

“The successful ones understand that it’s a business. They understand that you have to take care of the important people.” The way he emphasized “take care” left no doubt as to what he meant. “And smart girls like you… you understand the opportunity that these Valeria events really represent. It’s not just about showing up and looking pretty.”

No, it’s about letting rich old men grope you. Minimum.

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“Of course you do. You’re not like those naive little things who think all they have to do is shoot a few scenes and then they’ll be successful in the business.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. “You know how the game is played.”

She immediately recognized what he was doing. Just like at dinner, he was doing everything he could to make her feel smart and special, while at the same time steering her in exactly the direction he wanted her to go.

“I’ll do my best, Ben. I won’t let you down.”

“You won’t. I’m sure of it.” A short pause. “Oh, and one more thing, I almost forgot. Bound.com wants to book you.”

“What?” The change of subject was so abrupt that she briefly lost her composure.

“Bound.com. They do BDSM content. They’re paying fifteen hundred dollars, which is good money for a newcomer. And they have a huge fan base, which could really boost your career.”

Chloe hesitated. BDSM. Bondage, dominance, submission, that stuff. These were things she knew practically nothing about.

“I… I don’t know, Ben. BDSM isn’t really my-“

“Opportunities like this are valuable, Sunshine.” His voice became slightly impatient. “Especially at the beginning of a career. You don’t just say no to such good offers from big networks.”

“Can I think about it?”

A brief silence. She could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Sure. But let me know soon. They want to shoot next week.” His tone softened again. “We’ll talk about it after the party, okay? Bookings like this are really important.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ben.”

“Talk to you soon, Sunshine. And remember, if you do well on Saturday and Valeria is happy with you, this could be the most important night of your career.”

He hung up.

Chloe sat there for a moment, thinking. Bound.com was offering fifteen hundred dollars. That was more than she had gotten at Throat Me, fuck, that was more than she had earned for CCC and Sinful Stepsisters combined. That was two months’ rent.

And Bound.com had a huge fan base, millions of subscribers worldwide. A successful shoot there could really advance her career, could turn a performer from a nobody into a household name.

But she didn’t really want to do it. There was no strategic reason for it, no connection to Samantha that she could pursue. It was just money and career advancement. Nothing that would help her investigation.

But would Chloe Heart say no?

The thought made her pause. Chloe Thompson didn’t want to do it, that was clear. But would the character she was playing hesitate? Successful performers took opportunities like this. They weren’t picky about the content or even enjoyed it. Chloe Heart was supposed to be ambitious, hungry for work, willing to do anything to get ahead.

If she said no too often, wouldn’t it be odd? Would Ben become suspicious? A new performer turning down good offers from major networks didn’t fit the picture.

Fuck. I don’t even know what’s a real decision and what’s part of the performance anymore.

BDSM… that really wasn’t her thing.

Her thoughts wandered back to her “experimental” phase. If you could call it that. It had been about a year ago, with Chris, her second boyfriend, who had the brilliant idea of trying handcuffs to spice things up.

The result had been awkward, at best. He had put the handcuffs on too tight, she had complained, he had loosened them, then they had slipped off. Finally, they had managed it, but the sex itself had been pretty much the same as always. Afterwards, they had gone out for pizza and never talked about it again.

That was it. Her entire experience with being “kinky”. A failed handcuff session with a guy her age who had never had a girlfriend before her.

And now she was seriously considering shooting for Bound.com. Professional doms, rope bondage, whips, clamps, all the things she had seen in their previews. It was worlds away from Chris’s pathetic plush handcuffs.

I don’t really feel ready for that yet.

But then yet another thought occurred to her, one that made her pause.

Before Valley city, she had been with two guys. Chris and, before that, Michael, both around her age, both just as inexperienced as she was. They had been short relationships, a lot of fumbling around, yes, she had sex with both of them, but it was all pretty inconsequential. Basically, she had never really gotten past the trial-and-error phase with either of them.

That had been her entire sexual history.

And now? Since she’d been in Valley City? Randy at Casting Couch Cuties. Trevor at Throat Me. Steve at Sinful Stepsisters.

Three sex partners in barely three weeks.

More than in my entire life so far.

The thought hit her like a punch in the stomach. In eighteen years, she had only had two partners, both boyfriends, both guys she had liked, both… normal. Three weeks in Valley City and she had three new sex partners, all strangers, all in front of cameras, all for money.

When had she stopped being shocked? After Randy? After Trevor? Or just yesterday, when Steve had fucked her in that ridiculous dryer and she had almost orgasmed?

Now she was sitting here, unsure whether she should shoot BDSM content for a major network. The mere fact that she was hesitating instead of immediately refusing felt like a slippery slope.

Is that how it starts? You get used to it, get comfortable, and then you lose yourself?

She shook her head. No. Not now. She couldn’t afford an existential crisis right now. Now she had to focus on what was important.

The investigation. Samantha. The party on Saturday.

The Bound.com decision could wait. The party was her chance to get closer to Valeria and, of course, find out more about those “private events” Elena had mentioned.

Whatever happened there, it probably wouldn’t be pleasant. But if she wanted to get closer to Valeria, she had to go through with it.

~

On Saturday afternoon, Chloe stood in front of her tiny wardrobe and stared at the few items of clothing hanging on crooked wire hangers. The selection was limited, to say the least. A few T-shirts, jeans, her crop tops, a pair of short shorts, the sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants she sometimes slept in, and exactly three dresses that could be described as “going out” attire, if you were being generous.

She didn’t even know what the dress code for a party like this was. Business casual? Cocktail dress? Completely naked with glitter on? With Valeria Cruz, you never knew.

Better to play it safe.

She reached for the black bodycon dress she had worn to dinner with Ben. The fabric was cheap, you could tell if you looked closely, but from a distance it looked good enough. She paired it with black high heels, an easy choice because she only had those and the red ones. She hoped that she couldn’t really go wrong with the classic little black dress.

She laid everything out on the bed to inspect it. Dress, shoes, bra, and thong in black lace, and the clutch.

Treat it like a shoot. Just without the cameras.

She was just standing in front of the stained bathroom mirror applying foundation – unfortunately only the cheap kind from the drugstore, not the good expensive stuff Mai had used at Throat Me – when her cell phone rang.

Unknown number.

She hesitated, the makeup sponge still in her hand. It could be Ben, with a new number for some reason. Or someone from Valeria’s with last-minute instructions for the party. She answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Chloe! It’s Steve!”

She recognized his slightly nasal and nervous voice immediately. It was Steve Balls, the guy who had fucked her in a dryer on Monday.

“Steve.” Her voice grew colder. “How did you get my number?”

“Oh, uh…” A nervous laugh. “Madeline’s assistant gave it to me. Ashley? We know each other and, um, I asked her for a favor.”

A favor.

“You got my number from someone else without asking me?”

“Well, I thought…” He sounded slightly embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough for Chloe’s liking. “After Monday, you know, I thought we had really good chemistry…”

I was paid a thousand dollars to have good chemistry with you, you idiot.

“Steve.” She interrupted him before he could spout any more nonsense. “That’s not cool. You can’t just get my number from someone.”

“Oh, sorry, I mean… I just wanted to…” He stammered, trying hard to sound charming. “I thought maybe we could go out for dinner tonight? Burgers or something?”

He had obviously been convinced that this was a cute move. Like a Labrador proudly dragging in a dead rat. And then he was completely surprised by the reaction.

“Steve, listen.” She tried to sound firm but not too harsh. After all, he had been in the industry for a while and could be a useful contact. Besides, she didn’t want to make unnecessary enemies. “I already have plans tonight.”

“Oh.” A pause. “How about tomorrow? Or next weekend?”

God, he won’t give up.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Vague enough not to completely reject him, but no promise either. “And please don’t pull any more crap like with my number in the future.”

“Sure, sure! Hey, maybe we could also-“

“I really have to go now, sorry.” She hung up.

That fucking dork.

The phone landed on the edge of the sink as she turned back to the mirror. Her face looked half done, one side already covered in foundation, the other still normal. She looked like Two-Face.

The audacity of that guy. He seriously thought that because she moaned on camera while he was banging her, it meant something. As if that wasn’t literally her job.

Half an hour later, her face was done. She was actually getting better at it. She had done smokey eyes, but only slightly smokey, she didn’t want to look like a raccoon after all. She wore her hair down.

She slipped into her black dress, adjusted it, and when she looked up again, the mirror showed Chloe Heart in all her glory. Except that beneath the perfect surface was Chloe Thompson, who would have preferred to barricade herself in her apartment.

It will suck, she thought as she grabbed her clutch. Or rather, most probably, I will suck. Same thing, really. Cell phone, cash, keys, and after a moment’s thought, she also packed a pack of wet wipes. Just in case.

Time to go.