Chapter 4 – The Agent

Chloe turned off the alarm clock at 9 a.m. after it rang only once and practically jumped out of bed onto her yoga mat. She went through her morning routine with some nervous energy this time, compressing the usual twenty minutes into ten before getting in the shower.

Under the shower she let the lukewarm water run over her while she mentally went through the next steps. Ben Ziegler. She was about to call Ben Ziegler.

Back in her room, she put on jeans and a tank top. For now. She would have to change later if she could stop by Ziegler’s today.

Her laptop was still open next to the bed. She opened Ziegler’s awful website and typed the number into her cell phone.

She stared at the screen for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Chloe Thompson needs to take a break now, I need Chloe Heart.

She took another deep breath. Then she pressed call.

It rang three times.

“Yeah?” The voice sounded rough, annoyed, maybe she had disturbed him at breakfast.

Chloe switched gears. Her voice was higher than usual, more enthusiastic, more bubbly: “Hi, Mr. Ziegler! My name is Chloe Thompson. I just moved to Valley City and plan to work in the industry. I saw on your website that you represent performers, and it would be amazing if I could introduce myself to you.”

Silence. She heard him breathing, then the rustling of paper.

“Do you have any pictures of yourself?”

“Um, I have some on social media…”

A heavy sigh, as if that were the dumbest answer in the world. “Of course you do. What’s your handle?”

“ChloeHeartXXX on Instapic.”

“Chloe Heart.” He savored the name. “That’s supposed to be your stage name?”

“Well, yes, that’s what I had in mind.”

Pause. She imagined him scrolling through her photos. The tapping on his screen. A quiet grunt. Was it surprise? Interest?

“All right. Come to my office at eleven. Don’t be late.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I’ll be there!”

The line went dead before she had finished her sentence.

Chloe lowered her phone and looked at the time again. Just under an hour and a half.

Enough time to get ready.

She grabbed her red dress, took off her jeans and top, and slipped it on. It would take her a while to get used to wearing clothes that were so tight and skimpy. The fabric stretched across her hips, and because the neckline was so low, she was constantly afraid that one wrong move would cause everything to fall out.

Chloe Heart wouldn’t worry about that. You have to be Chloe Heart now.

She rummaged around for the red high heels with ankle straps, found them, put them on, and reminded herself not to walk too cockily in them. She had practiced walking in high heels every now and then over the past few months, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

In front of the stained bathroom mirror, she applied makeup and brushed her blonde hair until it shone, then let it fall loosely over her shoulders.

One last look in the mirror.

Hey, Chloe Heart.

Then she grabbed her purse and set off, checking her phone to see which bus she needed to take.

Shortly thereafter, she rumbled through Valley City on the bus. Chloe sat by the window and watched apartment blocks, rows of shops, from hip cafes to shady massage parlors with neon hearts in the windows, pass by as the bus’s air conditioning sounded like it was in its dying throws.

A man across from her stared openly at her legs. She ignored him and instead checked the address on her phone again. Only three blocks from the bus stop.

The building she finally stood in front of definitely didn’t look inviting with its crumbling facade. A faded sign hung at the entrance: Ziegler Talent Management – Your Gateway to Stardom. Someone had crossed out “Stardom” and scribbled “Whoredom” over it. Nice.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Showtime.

The reception area was barely larger than her tiny apartment. Behind a desk that looked like it had seen better days sat a young woman. Dark hair in a careless bun, chewing gum, thumb flying over her phone display. She didn’t even look up.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Um, hi? I have an appointment with Mr. Ziegler?”

The woman looked up lazily. Her eyes wandered from Chloe’s high heels to her red dress to her carefully made-up face. One corner of her mouth twitched upward.

“Name?”

“Chloe Thompson.”

Ziegler’s receptionist typed something into her computer with one hand, the other hand remaining on her cell phone. “You’re like half an hour early.”

“Oh, I just… wanted to be on time.”

The young woman snorted amusedly through her nose, her chewing gum popping. “Chill, girl. This isn’t exactly the Harvard entrance exam.” Her gaze slid over Chloe’s figure again. “The way you look, he won’t send you away.”

There was no kindness in the statement, but no malice either. Just a bored statement of fact, like saying water is wet or the Pope is Catholic.

“Have a seat.” She pointed to a row of plastic chairs against the wall, already engrossed in her phone again.

Chloe sat down, her clutch on her lap. The walls were plastered with porn movie posters, some of the faces on them she recognized from her research.

She pulled out her own phone and scrolled through Instapic. Her post from yesterday already had a few likes. Probably mostly bots, but you had to start somewhere.

The cheap wall clock ticked so loudly and aggressively that it almost drove Chloe crazy. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.

The receptionist glanced at her occasionally, just briefly, appraisingly, then back to her screen. She had probably seen hundreds of girls like Chloe sitting here. Fresh meat for the business.

Then she finally relented, picked up the phone, and pressed a button. “Ben, the girl you talked to on the phone this morning is already here. Should I send her in?”

Then she hung up. “You can go in.”

Chloe stood up and smoothed her dress. The fabric clung slightly to her thighs, even with the air conditioning, it was too warm in here.

“Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm.” She was already scrolling on her phone again.

Chloe walked to the door and knocked.

“Come in.” The voice sounded rough, impatient.

She pressed the handle down and entered.

The office was smaller than she had expected and smelled of cold cigarette smoke. Or no, it smelled a little stronger, maybe cigars?

Yellowed blinds hung crookedly in front of the only window, and the walls were plastered with framed photos of performers. Some smiled professionally at the camera, others posed in a much more explicit manner.

Chloe’s gaze darted across the pictures and lingered for a split second on one in the top row. Samantha, younger, in a skimpy gold bikini, beaming.

Stay calm. Don’t react, Chloe.

Ben Ziegler sat behind a desk and looked at her appraisingly, but not necessarily unkindly. He was in his mid-fifties, with slicked-back dark hair that was already noticeably thinning. His suit didn’t necessarily look cheap, but it looked like it had been expensive back in the 90s. It also didn’t fit properly. Too loose at the shoulders, too tight at the stomach.

“Chloe Thompson, right?” His voice sounded like that of a long-time smoker. “Close the door.”

She did so, the click of the lock sounding unnaturally loud in her ears.

“Sit down.”

He pointed to a worn leather couch against the wall. As she sat down, she noticed the stains on the upholstery. Better not to think about where they came from.

Ben leaned back, folded his hands over his considerable belly, and looked at her intently.

“So.” He let the word hang in the air. “Why porn?”

Chloe put on her rehearsed smile, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I mean, I love sex and I like being in front of the camera, and getting paid for it would literally be a dream come true!”

One of his eyebrows rose as if she had just said she wanted to be an astronaut or a Supreme Court justice. “Dreams are cheap, Chloe. Do you even know what this really means?”

“I think so?”

“No.” The word came out harsh and dismissive. “You don’t. But we’ll see if you’re a quick learner.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and fixed her with his gaze. “Are you ready to work hard? I mean, really hard? I always try to make it clear to new girls that it’s not enough to just lie down and spread your legs. Making porn is hard work. You look fit enough, but are you ready to put in the work it takes?”

“Yes, Mr. Ziegler, I’ve got what it takes!”

He snorted, clearly unconvinced, but leaned back again and spoke slowly, as if explaining the rules of the road to a five-year-old.

“Okay, listen carefully, because this is how it works…” He raised a finger. “First, we have to get you tested. STIs, the whole shebang. It’s mandatory, every studio requires it, no exceptions. Without clean test results in the database, I can’t get you booked you anywhere. Got it?”

Chloe nodded eagerly. “Yes, totally!”

He rummaged through his desk drawer, which rattled alarmingly, and pulled out a business card. “Here, this is a clinic that works with the industry. Go there, they know what’s important.” He tossed the card carelessly onto the table between them.

A pause. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you have enough money to pay for the tests?”

“Yes, I… I saved a little before I moved here.”

“Good, you’re thinking ahead.” He nodded appreciatively. “That’s a plus. Some girls show up here completely broke and think I’ll front them everything.” A dramatic roll of his eyes. “As if I were fucking welfare.”

He raised a second finger. “Then the second thing: we need professional pictures of you for your portfolio. I need that to shop you around to the producers.”

He counted on his fingers like an elementary school teacher. “Different pictures in different outfits, lingerie shots, and of course full nude.”

Chloe hesitated for a split second.

“Problem?” His voice suddenly had a sharp undertone.

“No! No problem at all!”

Ben leaned back, a smarmy grin on his lips. “Look, the producers aren’t buying a pig in a poke. They want to see what they’re getting. Everything.”

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Of course, I’m not going to force you to take your clothes off here in my office. I’m a professional.”

He said it as if he were doing her a huge favor, as if it were a noble gesture not to inspect her on the spot like cattle at a market.

“Thank you, Mr. Ziegler.”

“Call me Ben.” He waved her off casually.

“But,” he raised a finger, “I still need something to work with today. Stand up.”

Chloe stood up, carefully, so as not to stumble in her high heels. She felt his gaze wander over her body.

“Stand in front of the wall there.” He pointed to a bare spot next to the couch where there were no pictures of performers hanging.

She moved there, unsure of what was coming next. Ben took his cell phone out of his pocket – a brand-new model that looked strangely small in his meaty hands.

“Just for my records,” he said, as if it were completely normal. Maybe it was. “Turn around, let me see your ass.”

Chloe turned slowly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

This is the job. This is why you’re here.

She heard him inhale noisily. He seemed to like what he saw. When she looked over her shoulder, his whole posture had changed. He sat up straighter, the bored indifference gone from his face.

“Okay, yeah.” Even his voice sounded different, more focused. “Turn around again.”

She turned to face him, and now he was really studying her, no longer with the casual arrogance of before, but with his full attention.

“How old are you?”

“I turned eighteen last week.”

He nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Perfect.”

Of course he likes that.

“Okay, give me your brightest smile.”

Chloe smiled the rehearsed, wide smile she had practiced in front of the mirror until her cheeks hurt.

“Come on,” Ben sounded impatient. “Pretend you’re really excited. Like you just saw the biggest cock you’ve ever seen.”

She adjusted her smile, trying to put more enthusiasm into it, opening her eyes wider.

Click.

“Now in profile, turn to the side.”

She turned, the tight dress stretching across her hips.

“More confidence, chest out. You can’t hide those puppies anyway.”

The careless remark hit her like a small punch in the gut, but she pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

Just smile, Chloe.

Click.

“Full body now. Hands on your hips.”

She struck the pose, trying to look like the models on the posters on his wall, while he took a step back to get her whole body in the shot.

Click.

“Blow me a kiss.”

Chloe raised her hand to her lips, blew him a kiss, and winked. It felt ridiculous, like a bad parody of herself.

Click. Click. Click.

“Okay, that’s it for now.”

Ben scrolled through the pictures on his phone and nodded with satisfaction.

“Yeah, I think this could work.” He looked up at her. “You definitely have the looks for it. Damn, you look even better than in your Instapic photos.”

He put his phone on the desk, leaned back with his hands behind his head, and looked at her.

“So here’s the deal: you get tested, I’ll get you a professional photo shoot tomorrow, and if everything goes smoothly, I’ll sign you officially.”

He grinned broadly. “And then we’ll send you straight to Casting Couch Cuties. Randy Miles and I go way back. I can get you booked with him this week, guaranteed.”

“Really? That would be amazing!”

“Damn straight.” He nodded smugly. “Most agents couldn’t promise you that. But I have good connections.”

He continued, clearly in his element. “Everyone starts at CCC. It’s like the introductory course to the industry. Porn 101. If you do well there, word gets around, and the bigger studios start to take notice. And of course, I have my contacts there too.”

Chloe saw a chance. He was bragging, in a chatty mood. Should I ask about Samantha?

But immediately the next thought shot through her mind: No. Much too early. That would make him suspicious. I have to be patient.

Instead, she put on her most radiant smile again. “I’m really super grateful for this opportunity, Mr. Zie… I mean, Ben! I promise I’ll work hard!”

“You’d better.” His voice became sharper again. “I hate working with lazy girls. They waste my time.”

He stood up, clearly done with the conversation. “Get tested today. The results are usually in the database the next morning. In the meantime, I’ll take care of the photo shoot and send you the address. Any questions?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Well then, get to work, Chloe Heart.”

She stood up, her clutch firmly in her hand. “Thank you so much, Ben!”

He was already back at his computer, typing something. “Yeah, yeah. Make sure I don’t regret it.”

Chloe left the office, the door closing behind her. The receptionist didn’t even look up from her cell phone as she walked through the waiting area. It wasn’t until she was back on the street that she allowed herself to take a deep breath.

The sun beat down on her as she looked at the business card in her hand. Valley Health Clinic, an address a few blocks away. She put the card in her clutch and made her way over there, her high heels clicking on the hot sidewalk.

Had Samantha also had her tests done at this clinic?