Chapter 8 – Rien ne va plus

The alarm clock rang at 8 a.m., but Chloe was already awake. For hours, actually, if she was honest. She had tossed and turned all night, waking up repeatedly, staring at the time on her phone. 3:34. 4:27. 5:19. 6:41.

Now she sat on the edge of the bed, her feet on the stained carpet, staring at her hands on her knees. They were shaking slightly. Adrenaline and lack of sleep was a shitty combination.

Today’s the day.

She took a deep breath. With a jerky movement, she stood up and rolled out her turquoise yoga mat. The routine was burned into her muscle memory, and that was exactly what she needed right now. Something familiar, something she could control.

Downward dog. Her shoulders burned immediately, but that was good. The pain was real, tangible. Warrior One. Warrior Two. Breathing helped calm her fluttering pulse. Inhaling through her nose until her lungs were fully expanded. Holding. Exhaling through her mouth.

The movements flowed into each other for twenty minutes. As she moved into the cobra, she felt more centered. Not exactly calm, there was way too much adrenaline in her system for that but at least grounded.

Then came the Kegel exercises. She lay on her back, knees bent, and was about to begin when a bitter thought flashed through her mind.

I can actually skip this. They’re getting enough workout today anyway.

A sarcastic snort escaped her nose and she rolled up the mat, put it in the corner, and went to take a shower.

The shower in her apartment was horrible, as usual. First ice cold, then lukewarm, the water pressure consistently pathetic, but there was nothing she could do about it. Today she took her time. She had to shave everywhere. Had to be professional about. The thought that she was going to all this trouble for Randy fucking Miles made her jaw clench. Another thing she could despise Randy for.

It’s not for him. This is your job now. It’s just doing your job. She methodically ran the pink disposable razor over her legs, then her armpits, then carefully between her legs. She hated it, but she did it anyway and she did it thoroughly.

Back in the room, she dried herself off and let her blonde hair fall loose. She would keep it all natural, not too styled, just brushed. The short denim shorts and white crop top were waiting on the chair where she had put them last night. The simple, sweet, and secretly a little bit naughty girl-next-door look. Plus white underwear.

She threw the clothes into her gym bag. Makeup, a water bottle and her phone charger followed. Then she paused.

Okay, imagine it’s over, you’ve done it. What do you need, what do you want then?

She would want to change afterwards, definitely. She packed sweatpants, a tank top, and fresh underwear. Something comfortable. Then she thought of something else: What if there were no towels there? She stuffed her thin travel towel into her bag.

I think that’s everything.

She felt prepared. Then it hit her like a punch in the gut.

I’m going to have his cock in my mouth.

She froze. Her stomach turned. She went back into the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, and stuffed both into her bag.

It was still too early to leave. She sat down on the bed and scrolled aimlessly through her phone, checking out what was going on on Instapic and Hitter. She didn’t really register any of it, and her stomach was too queasy to even think about eating anything. Every few minutes she checked the time. 11:21. 11:22. 11:23.

Finally, the time had come. She reached for her bag, her gaze falling on Samantha’s photo on the nightstand. Her sister smiled back at her, frozen in the past.

“For you, Sam,” she whispered.

Then she left the apartment.

The walk to the bus stop, the bus ride, then another short walk through the hub, but none of it really registered with her. Her mind was too focused on what was about to happen.

When she finally stood in front of the studio door, she was almost a little startled that she was already there. The building was gray and unremarkable, could just as easily have been a warehouse or a car repair shop. It had probably even been a warehouse at one time, from the looks of it. Nothing indicated what was happening inside.

Her hand hovered over the doorbell, then pulled back. Her throat tightened.

This is why you came to this city, Chloe. Pull yourself together.

She gathered her courage and pressed the doorbell.

A buzzer sounded, followed by the metallic click of the door lock. Chloe pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside.

The entrance area was small and gloomy, with dingy walls and the smell of cold cigarette smoke.

She heard footsteps coming from further back in the building. A man’s voice, rough and confident, called out to her. “Be right there!”

Chloe walked toward the door at the end of the short hallway. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

The door swung open and a massive figure filled the doorway. “Hey, you must be Chloe!”

Randy Miles looked exactly like he did in the videos. The fleshy figure, the thinning hair, and the sleazy grin.

His eyes wandered from her face to her breasts, lingering there a moment too long, then continuing down to her legs. It wasn’t a subtle look, it was a very casual assessment.

“Come in, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” His laugh sounded more than confident, cocky even. “Unless you’re into that.”

Internally she rolled her eyes, but she forced herself to smile broadly. “Hi! I’m so excited to be here!”

She followed him inside. The office, or whatever this room was supposed to be, was a hodgepodge of discarded office furniture and pornography memorabilia. Posters of naked performers adorned the walls, some with autographs and suggestive dedications. In the corner stood a broken water cooler, and papers, DVDs, and empty energy drink cans were scattered everywhere.

“Sit down, baby.” Randy pointed to a chair. “Unfortunately, we have to do the paperwork before we get to the fun part.”

She sat down carefully and put her bag next to her. Randy plopped down on his squeaky office chair and typed something into his computer, which looked like it was around since the Bush administration. Maybe even the first Bush administration. From Bush Senior.

“Okay, first things first.” Randy turned his clunky monitor toward her. “We need to check that we’re both clean.”

He tapped away at his keyboard with two fingers. “Can you pull up your results in the database on your phone?”

Chloe nodded, pulled out her cell phone, and logged into the performer database. Her test results lit up in reassuring green on the display. She held the phone out to him.

Randy leaned forward, his breath smelling of coffee and cigarettes. His eyes darted across the screen, then he nodded with satisfaction. “Perfect. Clean as a whistle. Love to see that.”

He turned his monitor completely toward her. His own results were all green as well. The date was from three days ago. At least he took that seriously, even if it was maybe the only thing he really cared about.

“And damn, baby.” He leaned back in his squeaky chair and stared at her openly. “You look even better in real life than in the portfolio shots Ben sent me.”

“Thanks!” Chloe forced a bright smile as her skin began to tingle. She could literally feel his gaze wandering over her body, like slimy snail trails.

Then Randy opened a drawer and took out a stack of papers. He slid them across the desk to her.

“Standard release. Exploitation rights, publishing, blah blah blah.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Boring legal stuff, but hey, it means you’ll get paid properly.”

He winked at her.

“Five hundred today in cash, five hundred more if the scene goes well.”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds amazing!”

That’s way below the industry average and you know it, you asshole.

She reached for the pen and Randy pointed to various places on the papers where she had to sign.

With each signature, she flinched slightly inside. It felt like she was signing away her dignity. Or at least part of it. Not exactly a death sentence, but damn close.

“Perfect.” Randy grabbed the papers and stuffed them back into the drawer without even looking at them. “Alright, now go make yourself pretty. The makeup room is down the hall.”

He stood up and led her out of the office into the hallway. A door was half open, and behind it she could see cables and a tripod, presumably the main studio room.

“Here’s the shower, for later.” He pointed to another door in the hallway.

Randy finally stopped in front of a narrow door with a normal computer printout taped to it, that said “Makeup”.

“In here.” He opened the door and turned on the light. A bare light bulb flickered twice before stabilizing.

The room was barely larger than her bathroom cubicle in the apartment. A wobbly table with a mirror on it and a large diagonal crack across the glass. A few dusty makeup palettes lay around, probably forgotten here by someone at some point.

“Take your time,” Randy said, although his tone suggested the opposite. “I’ll set up the cameras in the meantime.”

He disappeared, and Chloe was alone. She put her gym bag on the floor, took out her own makeup, and started applying foundation.

You have to be Chloe Heart now, she told herself as she applied mascara to her eyelashes. Chloe Heart wants nothing more than to make it. Chloe Heart is excited and grateful for this opportunity.

When you leave here later, you can be Chloe Thompson again.

She continued working. Blush on her cheeks, not too much, it should look natural after all, a little highlighter on her cheekbones and lip gloss.

When she was done, Chloe Heart smiled back at her from the cracked mirror. Eyes that looked bigger, more innocent, and lips that invited kissing… and well, probably something else.

A sudden knock on the door made her flinch.

“Chloe, are you ready?” Randy’s voice, muffled by the thin wood.

She put on her brightest smile and opened the door.

“Yup, I’m so ready!”

Randy stood in the hallway, his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. His gaze slid over her again, this time with barely concealed anticipation.

“Gorgeous,” he said, and the word alone felt like dirty fingers on her skin again.

“And tada,” Randy pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and spread his arms dramatically, as if he was showing her the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, “is your first step to fame, baby!”

Chloe faked an enthusiastic gasp. “Wow!”

Really? That’s your big reveal?

The studio was just as bleak as she had imagined. In the middle sat the infamous black leather couch, its worn surface gleaming dully in the harsh light of the studio lamps. The wall behind it was bare and white.

Two professional cameras, one directly in front of the couch on a table, the other on a tripod positioned to the side, cables running carelessly across the floor.

She recognized everything. From the videos she had seen. From Samantha’s video. But it was so surreal to be here herself now.

Randy seemed to interpret her muted reaction as awe. “Impressive, huh?” He patted the back of the couch. “This baby here has launched more careers than Harvard Business School.”

He laughed at his own joke, a rough, barking sound.

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said, turning to the cameras. Chloe moved to the couch and sat down carefully. The leather was cold and sticky under her thighs as Randy fiddled with the camera and adjusted the focus.

“This is really simple,” he said without looking up. “First we’ll do a little interview, just a few questions, you show yourself from your best side, and then we’ll get to the fun part.”

He grinned at her through the camera. Chloe nodded, sat up straight, and tried to look relaxed. Her hands rested loosely on her thighs, but her fingernails dug slightly into her palms.

“Perfect.” Randy pressed record on the main camera, then reached for the second, smaller camera. “This one’s for POV shots.”

He held it up like a child showing off his favorite toy.

POV. Point of view. So viewers can imagine they’re the ones who are about to…

She swallowed the thought.

Randy stepped aside, the handheld camera pointed at her. The red recording light stared at her like an evil eye.

“Okay, Chloe,” his voice now had that playful, casual tone she knew from countless CCC videos. “Tell us about yourself. Why are you here?”

And then, after all the nervousness, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Chloe Heart took over.

“Oh my God, I’ve always dreamed of doing this!” The words bubbled out of her, sweet as cotton candy and just as insubstantial. “I love sex and I love challenging myself, you know?”

It sounded so false to her own ears that she almost gagged. But Randy seemed to buy it. His grin grew even wider.

“How old are you, sweetie?”

She tilted her head to the side, playing with a strand of hair. “I had my eighteenth birthday last week, sooo…”

She tried to smile a little mischievously, as if it were a naughty secret she was sharing. Randy snorted appreciatively.

“Nice.” He zoomed in closer. “And how many guys have you had so far?”

The question came as casually as if he were asking about her favorite ice cream flavor. Chloe didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Ten,” she said with a shrug, as if it were no big deal.

Two. I’ve had two boyfriends so far. And unlike you, I liked them both.

Randy grinned like a predator that had sensed its prey. “Well, then I guess I’ll be Mr. Eleven.”

He produced a sleazy chuckle.

No. You’ll be the third man I ever sleep with. If you can even call it that.

She giggled. “Looks like it!”

“What’s your favorite position?”

“Doggy!” she blurted out.

That’s true. Why lie about it?

“Oh yeah?” Randy licked his lips. “I think I can do you that favor.”

He winked, and she felt her cheeks flush.

Randy took a step closer, the camera fixed firmly on her. His voice became more intimate, as if they were talking about a shared secret. “And when did you realize that you’re not like all the other well-behaved girls? That you’re a horny little slut?”

The question hit her like a slap in the face. It was designed solely to humiliate her, to reduce her to her basest instincts. It was so far removed from everything she was that she needed a moment to even formulate a response.

Fuck you, Randy. Fuck you and your disgusting little show.

But Chloe Heart just tilted her head and smiled innocently.

“I think… I think I always knew I wanted more, you know? That I wasn’t satisfied with just the normal stuff. I wanted to explore and try everything.”

The words felt empty, but Randy nodded enthusiastically.

“Well then,” he lowered the camera and grinned at her, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

Chloe slid off the couch and knelt in front of it, just like she had seen in dozens of videos. The carpet was rough under her knees.

Here goes nothing.

Randy stood in front of her and unbuckled his belt with his left hand while filming with his right. The soft jingle of the buckle sounded unnaturally loud in her ears.

Chloe’s heart pounded like a drum roll in her chest, as Randy was now fiddling with his zipper. His movements were so casual that he almost seemed bored. For him, it was just another day at the office, after all.

He pushed down his pants, and there was his cock. Circumcised, above average, but fortunately not as monstrous as some others in the porn industry. It stood half-erect in front of her, the skin smooth and taut, the tip slightly reddened. Bigger than her two former boyfriends, yes, but manageable.

Then with a shiver, a sudden moment of pure panic surged through her.

This is it. This is the point of no return.

She hesitated for just a second, then her lips parted slightly and she forced the words out, hoarse and with a hint of false desire. “Mmm, looks delicious.”

She leaned forward, her hands resting on his thighs, and her lips enclosed the tip, warm and salty, and she began to suck, circling her tongue around the tip as she took him deeper into her mouth.

The taste was surprisingly tolerable, and she could only detect the faint scent of his sweat. Randy groaned, a throaty, satisfied sound. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Show me how much you love sucking my cock.”

Chloe decided to ignore all the nonsense he was going to talk and instead focused entirely on the mechanics, the sucking, licking, and moving her head back and forth. She felt him get harder in her mouth, expanding, the veins throbbing under her tongue.

She looked up, wanting to look into his eyes to sell the performance, but instead she stared directly at the camera he was holding not far from her face. The glass of the lens reflected her own distorted image back at her.

I’m really sucking a stranger’s cock on camera.

A strange shiver ran through her. It was bizarre, unreal, as if she were in a dream. But then, almost gratefully, she realized that she could look into the lens’s “eyes” instead of meeting his gaze, that slimy, hungry stare. The camera was neutral, emotionless, a shield between her and him, in a way.

Randy was clearly enjoying this, his breathing quickened, and he buried his fingers in her hair. He held the strands away from her face, pulling her back gently, and it could almost have been tender if it hadn’t been him.

“Fuck, yeah, look at those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

Chloe gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, but she adjusted, trying hard to relax her throat. Still, saliva ran down her chin, sticky and warm, and she felt her cheeks starting to burn.

As she stoically continued to blow him, he dropped his hand from her hair and let it wander down. He pulled at her crop top, tugging the fabric up, revealing her bra. Then he pushed the bra up as well, and her breasts fell out.

His fingers kneaded them roughly, pinching the sensitive skin, twisting her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It was too hard, too rough, no pleasure, just bolts of pain that shot through her body. And yet her nipples hardened under his touch.

“Oh, look at that, your tits are perfect. You like that, don’t you?” Randy’s words dripped with lust as he pointed the camera at her breasts, zooming in to capture how her tits spilled out between his fingers in his hard grip.

Just go along with it, Chloe, for the performance.

Chloe murmured an approving “Mmmh” around his cock.

Her jaw was already aching, but she persevered, sucking harder, fluttering her tongue under his tip, and finally he had enough. He pulled back, his cock slippery and hard, throbbing in the air in front of her. “Come up here, baby. Time to get naked.”

He helped her up, pulled the crop top the rest of the way over her head and tossed it aside, then followed with the bra. Her breasts bounced free, and she felt goosebumps spread across her skin despite the warmth. Randy turned her around, his fingers digging into her shoulders. “Turn around and strip those shorts and panties off. Show me that ass, wiggle it for the camera.”

Chloe obeyed, her back turned to him. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, slowly pushed them down, wiggling her hips as if she were dancing, even though it felt strange.

The shorts slid down her thighs, then the panties, the fabric sticking slightly to her skin where moisture had already gathered. Not much, but enough to remind her that her body was responding to this whether she wanted it to or not.

She stepped out of her shorts and panties, kicked them both away, and stood naked in front of the couch, her back to Randy and the camera.

“Fuck, what a sweet little ass you have. Now get on all fours on the couch. Yeah, like that.” Randy’s voice was hoarse, the camera whirred.

Chloe climbed onto the couch, her knees sinking into the leather, spread apart. The position felt exposing, vulnerable and the draft between her legs made her shiver. “Spread those ass cheeks for me, show that cute little pussy for the camera.”

Her cheeks burned with shame as she reached back and pulled her buttocks apart. The camera didn’t see her face, thank God, because it must have been bright red. She felt the air on her most intimate spot, cool and intrusive, and the humiliation constricted her throat. This is for Samantha, she reminded herself and gritted her teeth.

Randy came closer, the camera almost touching her skin as it hovered over both her holes, for the viewers to get a good look at them. “Look at that tight little pussy there. And that cute asshole, look how it twitches.” His words were like blows, each one a fatal stab at her dignity.

Then he touched her. His fingers stroked her pussy, rough and searching, parting her labia, rubbing her clit, so rough that she flinched involuntarily.

She was a little wet, yes, but it wasn’t enough for it to be pleasant to be touched like that by him. He penetrated her with one finger, thrusting deep, turning it, exploring.

Chloe gasped loudly, a sound she didn’t have to fake, half because it was uncomfortable, half because it did kind of affect her. It felt like an intruder in her body, and yet it sent an unwanted shiver through her.

“Wet already? Good girl. Now it’s time for me to fuck that tight little pussy.” He pulled his finger out, and she heard him position himself behind her.

Then he penetrated her. His cock thrust roughly into her, stretching her, filling her. She wasn’t ready, not really, the wetness just enough to make it bearable, but the sudden pressure made her flinch, a jolt shooting through her abdomen.

She whimpered softly, hiding it in a moan that she squeezed out loudly and performatively. “Mmmmh, oh yes, fuck me!”

Randy sighed deeply, a long, satisfied groan as he slid deeper. “Goddamn, this pussy is tight. Like a fucking virgin. Squeeze me, baby, yeah, just like that.”

Then he thrust into her, hard and rhythmically, his balls slapping against her thighs with every thrust and a wet, smacking sound filled the room.

Chloe clung to the couch, her fingers digging into the leather as she moaned, forming words she didn’t really think about, just letting them tumble out: “Harder! Oh, please! Your cock feels so good!”

It was a show, but her body still reacted. Only a slight tingling built up, not enough for pleasure, just a hint of it, that frustrated her. He was too rough, the situation too uncomfortable, the humiliation too overwhelming for this to be good. She felt like an object, used, and yet her pulse pounded, her pussy contracted around him.

“Take it, you little slut. Your cunt is gripping me so good.” Randy’s crude words rained down on her, mixed with his moans as he sped up, his free hand clasping her hips and his fingers digging into her skin.

She turned her head to look back and regretted it immediately as she saw that man old enough to be her father clearly having a good time as he pumped his cock into her.

He had the POV camera pointed directly at where they were joined, showing his cock disappearing into her pussy in close-up. But when he saw that she had turned her head, he pointed the camera at her instead and she gave her best to produce a flirtatious smile, before looking down again.

I hate how much he enjoys this.

It lasted maybe ten minutes. She moaned diligently and she hoped convincingly until his thrusts became erratic, uncontrolled, and then suddenly he pulled out, leaving a sudden emptiness that made her gasp.

He dragged her off the couch and onto her knees in front of him, and began to jerk himself off, furiously, his cock only inches from her face. “Take it, baby!”

Chloe’s brain froze. She tried to remember what best to do. Tongue out? Eyes open? But her mind was blank. She just closed her eyes and smiled widely, and not a second too soon.

Randy roared, a loud, animalistic grunt, and then she felt it: Thick, hot strands of his cum splattered across her face, hitting her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, sticking to her eyelashes. It was warm, sticky, smelled salty and bitter, and ran down her face like thick syrup. She kept smiling, despite the disgust rising inside her.

When she opened her eyes, she stared directly into the camera that Randy had held close to her face for a close-up. Her face was covered with his load, and without even thinking, she winked at the camera, a playful, instinctive move. Randy laughed appreciatively. “That’s hot, baby. Perfect.”

He reached behind him onto the table and took the five hundred-dollar bills he had apparently prepared. He pressed four into her hand and she closed her fingers around the crackling paper.

Then he pressed the fifth into the cum on her forehead, and it stuck there, wet and absurd. “Good job, baby. You are a star.”

Chloe swallowed her pride and smiled radiantly. “Thank you!”

The scene was over. The camera clicked off.

“And cut. That was amazing.” Randy sighed contentedly. “Go take a shower baby, I’ll check the footage.”

She nodded, pulled the bill from her forehead, which was now sticky and slippery, and stuffed it with the other four into her bag at the edge of the studio, which she immediately took with her. Then, without another word, she hurried toward the shower so quickly that her bare feet splashed loudly on the floor.