Shortly afterwards, Chloe stood under the thin, lukewarm stream, her hands flat against the tiled walls, her head bowed. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared. She didn’t have to cry. She didn’t feel dead inside either. Actually, she mainly felt… relieved. It was over. She had done it.
Don’t think about it. Not yet. Get home first.
The shower was a narrow cubicle with a cheap plastic curtain. On the wall hung a dispenser with cheap shower gel that didn’t smell very good. She pumped some into her hand anyway and rubbed it mechanically over her arms, her shoulders, between her legs. Quickly, functionally. She didn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.
She rinsed her mouth. Once. Twice. Three times. The taste of his cock still lingered somewhere in the back of her throat, salty and bitter. She spat into the drain grate and rinsed again.
Don’t think about it.
After maybe three minutes, she turned off the water, pushed the curtain aside, and stepped out of the shower. The floor was cold under her wet feet.
Her sports bag was standing in the corner, exactly where she had left it. She walked over, dripping, and pulled out her thin travel towel, which she used to quickly dry herself off.
Then she reached for her change of clothes. The gray sweatpants felt like a hug, and the tank top was soft and warm too. She put them on and immediately felt more like a human again.
She rummaged through her bag and found her toothbrush and toothpaste.
Thank God I remembered that.
She brushed thoroughly and scrubbed her tongue until the minty taste covered everything else. What a goddamn relief that was.
When she came back into the studio, Randy was sitting at the camera, staring at the preview. On the display, she saw herself, on her knees, his cock in her mouth. He turned around when he heard her.
“Hey, good work, baby.” He grinned as if they were old buddies. As if he had the right to that familiarity because he had just been inside her. “That was pretty good for your first scene.”
She forced herself to smile again. “Thanks!”
Randy reached into his cargo shorts and pulled out a crumpled cigarette pack. “Do you smoke?”
Chloe hesitated. She didn’t smoke. And she hated the tone in his voice, the feigned intimacy after what had just happened. But she also saw an opportunity.
“Sure, why not?” She took the cigarette he held out to her.
Randy lit hers first, then his own. The smoke burned her throat, but she suppressed the urge to cough. He leaned against the table, eyeing her with a satisfied expression.
“A lot of girls are really nervous the first time, but you did really well.” He blew out smoke. “You’ve got a natural talent for porn.”
Natural talent. Sure.
“Thanks, Randy!” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “I really did my best.”
She took a drag, the smoke scratching her throat, but she didn’t let it show. Her mind was racing. Could she risk asking about Samantha? But how the hell was she supposed to bring up the subject discreetly?
Randy seemed to interpret her being quiet as shyness. “Hey, don’t worry. It gets easier with time. It’s no big deal, we just had a little fun.”
Mainly you had fun.
She nodded anyway and just waited. Sometimes silence could also be a strategy. Some people felt uncomfortable with it and couldn’t help but fill the silence somehow.
Randy took a deep drag on his cigarette and looked at her through the smoke. “So, have you watched CCC scenes before?”
The question came casually, but Chloe immediately recognized her chance. Her eyes lit up, the perfect Chloe Heart glow that she could now put on almost automatically.
“Oh my God, yes!” She leaned forward slightly, letting her voice vibrate with feigned enthusiasm. “Honestly, that’s part of the reason I wanted to get into porn.”
Randy sat up a little straighter, obviously flattered and his smug grin widened. He probably thought he had a fangirl sitting in front of him.
“The scene with Samantha Sparkles was, like, my absolute favorite video ever.” The lie tasted more bitter than the cigarette smoke in her mouth. “I came so many times to that one over the years, you wouldn’t believe it.”
She played with a strand of hair, giving herself a dreamy expression. “She looked so confident, so… free. I thought to myself, I want to do that too.”
For a split second, something flickered in Randy’s eyes. A shadow of unease, maybe even fear. His hand with the cigarette froze halfway to his mouth.
Then it was over. He snorted, the grin returned, but now it seemed forced.
“Samantha, yeah…” He scratched his neck, looked briefly to the side. “She was a good cookie.”
A pause.
“But hey,” Randy waved it off as if shooing away an annoying fly, “you should focus on your own path, Chloe. Everyone has to find their own place in the industry.”
There’s something there. The way he said her name. How he immediately changed the subject.
“Totally, sure, my own path,” she nodded enthusiastically and took another drag. The smoke still burned in her lungs.
He knew Samantha. Maybe better than he wants to admit.
She stored the information. It wasn’t anything concrete yet, but something was there. She would have to be patient.
Randy knows something. And I’m going to find out what, sooner or later.
Randy stubbed out his cigarette in the slightly overflowing ashtray on his table.
“Okay, I think we’re mostly done here, I guess.” He stood up, stretched, his T-shirt riding up to reveal a pale strip of potbelly. “Really good work today.”
He held out his hand to her. Chloe stared at it for a moment – the same hand that had been kneading her tits twenty minutes ago – then shook it. His handshake was clammy and too firm, as if he needed to prove his masculinity even after he just fucked her on his couch.
“Keep it up and you’ll be a star.” He winked, and it was the sleaziest wink she had ever seen. “You definitely have the pussy for it.”
The smile she put on didn’t even remotely reach her eyes. “Thanks, Randy.”
She reached for her sports bag. Five hundred dollars in cash were inside, right between her sweaty clothes. Blood money, somehow.
“I’ll find my own way out?”
“Sure, baby. I’ll get in touch through Ben.” He had already turned back to his camera, scrolling through the recordings.
She left the studio, walked down the hallway, and then the front door clicked shut behind her with a metallic clang.
The sun outside stung her eyes after the artificial light inside.
She took a deep breath. The Valley City air tasted like traffic and smog mostly, but at least it wasn’t the stale cigarette smoke from Randy’s studio. Her legs felt wobbly.
She took out her phone and called a cab via app. She just couldn’t squeeze into a crowded bus surrounded by people right now. Besides, she now had five hundred dollars more than she did this morning.
The cab arrived in just five minutes. The driver, an older man with tired eyes, nodded to her friendly.
“Music?”
“No, thank you, I don’t need any.”
He shrugged and drove off. Thank God he wasn’t the chatty type.
Chloe stared out the window as Valley City passed by, but she didn’t really take much of it in. Her brain was on standby, refusing to process anything.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just get home.
When the car stopped in front of her run-down apartment building, she even gave the driver a small tip, just for keeping his mouth shut.
She stood there for a moment, looking at that shithole of a building.
Home sweet home.
A complete dump. But now she was actually grateful for it.
She climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and entered. The door closed behind her.
Finally alone.
Chloe simply dropped her bag. It hit the stained carpet with a dull thud, but she didn’t give a damn. Without even glancing around her shabby apartment, she marched straight to the bathroom.
She needed to wash. Really wash this time, not just that quick rinse in Randy’s gross shower stall.
The fresh clothes, the sweatpants and tank top that had felt like a lifesaver half an hour ago, flew into the corner. She turned on the water, as hot as the damn thing would go. The first rush was ice cold, as always, but she didn’t even wait for it to warm up. She just stepped under it.
The cold water took her breath away, then it became lukewarm, then hot. Too hot, actually, but that was exactly what she needed right now. She stood there, head bowed, and let the water run over her. Then she started scrubbing.
Arms. Shoulders. Stomach. Legs. Between her legs, where she could still feel where he had been. She rubbed harder, the cheap washcloth scratching her skin, while the memories flashed through her mind. Randy’s gaze. His hands on her breasts. His cock inside her.
She scrubbed even harder, as if she could rub the memories off her skin. As if hot water and shower gel could undo the last two hours.
Suddenly, she stopped. Her hands pressed flat against the tiled walls, the water pelting her back. Her arms trembled.
And then it burst out of her.
Two sobs, violent and ugly, tore from her chest. Loud and raw, more animal than human. Her whole body shook, her knees almost gave way. For maybe ten seconds, she was nothing but pain and anger and disgust and-
No.
She clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw cracked. She squeezed her eyes shut. She forced it back, this thing that wanted to burst out of her.
Pull yourself together. You can do this.
She breathed hard through her nose, snot bubbling. She counted.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Inhaling. Holding. Exhaling. Holding. Inhaling. Holding. Exhaling.
Control returned, bit by bit. She straightened up, back straight, shoulders back.
Calm down. I did it. It’s over. I survived.
A few more deep breaths. The trembling subsided. It wasn’t completely gone, but she had it under control. She had herselfunder control.
She finished the rest of her shower mechanically. Washed her hair, soaped her body again, rinsed off. When she turned off the water, she felt… not good, but functional. That would have to suffice.
She stood there dripping, wrapped the thin towel around herself. The mirror was completely fogged up from the steam, her outline barely visible.
Good.
She didn’t want to see herself anyway. Not her face, not her eyes. Not now.
She walked over to the bedroom, leaving wet footprints on the disgusting carpet.
Chloe stopped in front of her bed, dried herself off, and for the first time since, really felt her body. There was soreness between her legs, not bad, but definitely there. And her jaw hurt too.
Don’t think about why.
She went to the pile of clothes in the corner and rummaged for something comfortable. The big gray hoodie and soft sweatpants. She desperately needed something to hide in.
She crawled into bed and put her laptop on her knees. She wanted to watch something mindless now, something that had nothing to do with Valley City or the industry or Randy fucking Miles.
She selected Just Us Girls, the sitcom she watched on Webflix yesterday, pressed play and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, and soon canned laughter filled the small apartment.
Chloe stared at the screen without really noticing what happened. The jokes rushed past her, but that was okay. It wasn’t about understanding the plot. It was about hearing people talking with each other, normal people having normal problems. No one on that screen had to…
Don’t think about it.
Cassie made some joke about her last date and the studio audience cheered. Chloe pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She reached for it without looking up from her laptop.
Ben Ziegler.
Chloe snorted. Of course. Randy couldn’t even wait five minutes before bragging about the anatomical details. Disgusting jerk.
She switched into Chloe Heart mode and typed:
The emojis almost hurt physically, but that didn’t even really matter now. She sent the message and shortly afterwards the phone vibrated again.
Chloe’s stomach sank slightly. Another event. More performance. More of these people who would undress her with their eyes, who would talk about her as if she were a piece of meat. But on the other hand…
Opportunity.
She typed back:
Of course. What else.
She put her phone down and stared at it for a moment. Saturday. An industry party. She would have to play Chloe Heart again, but this time in front of a whole room full of people from the industry. The thought alone was exhausting.
Then her brain registered the name correctly.
Valeria Cruz.
She sat up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. Where had she heard that name before? She thought back to her research sessions, the endless hours in front of her laptop, scouring Threadit posts and news articles…
Valeria Cruz.
She was a producer. And… there had been something about Samantha. Some kind of connection. But she couldn’t remember exactly.
Chloe was now sitting bolt upright in bed. Just Us Girls was still playing on the laptop, Cassie was mixing a cocktail or something, but Chloe closed the window and the laughter abruptly fell silent.
This was important.
Chloe opened a new tab and typed: “Valeria Cruz Valley City porn producer”.
The search results filled the screen. She clicked on the first link, an industry profile from two years ago.
Valeria Cruz was CEO of Dirty Dreams Productions. One of the most influential figures in Valley City’s adult entertainment industry. Known for high-production-value content and her ruthless business style. The photo showed a sharp-featured Latina in her late forties, immaculately styled dark hair, broad smile, but calculating coal-black eyes.
Looks like someone who would stab you in the back with a smile.
She scrolled on. Lots of awards, nominations, a Forbes interview about “Female Empowerment in Adult Entertainment”. Chloe snorted. Then she typed in a new search: “Valeria Cruz Samantha Sparkles”.
This time the results were sparser, but more revealing. An old Threadit post from four years ago:
41
t/PornIndustryGossip
Posted by u/Framester
u/LetsGetFishical
21 points
u/GonadCrusher
39 points
u/HornyMom
4 points
Chloe switched to her notes document and wrote:
Valeria Cruz, powerful producer, rumors of conflict with Sam shortly before her death. Wanted exclusive contract, Sam refused???
But there was another name that kept coming up in the discussions: Elena Rodriguez. Chloe opened a new tab.
The image search showed an attractive Latina in her mid to late twenties, long black hair, a tired smile in most photos. According to her agency page, she had been in the industry for eight years. The timeline fit. She and Samantha could have known each other.
“Elena Rodriguez Samantha Sparkles”
She found old social media posts from Elena defending Samantha against criticism in comment sections. But between the lines, Chloe also read something else. On an Instapic post from three years ago showing Samantha with her Best Newcomer trophy at the EVAs, Elena had commented: “So proud of you babe💕 ” But someone had replied: “Must be hard watching your friend blow up while you’re stuck in career limbo lol.”
Elena hadn’t replied.
Jealousy?
Chloe noted:
Elena Rodriguez, a friend of Sam’s? Was there envy? Signs of a complicated relationship.
She leaned back, rubbed her tired eyes before continuing to read. Wait, what was that, Samantha Sparkles complained about a male performer named Trevor Knight?
“Trevor Knight porn actor”
The results were… intense. Videos with titles that made Chloe blush, even after today. Trevor Knight was one of the main performers at Throat Me, a label known for its particularly hardcore oral scenes. The photos showed a muscular man in his early thirties, dark hair, a tattoo running down his arm. In the comments, there was a war raging between mainly male fans and mainly female critics. To some, he was a hero and to others, he was a misogynistic asshole who belonged in jail.
She searched more specifically: “Trevor Knight Samantha Sparkles.”
Bingo. A Threadit post from three and a half years ago:
23
t/PornIndustryGossip
Posted by u/U2fanboy
u/Neighborhood_Domme
3 points
u/MandyRaeTulip
-1 points
u/drooglodyt
11 points
u/MandyRaeTulip
-2 points
Chloe added to her notes:
Trevor Knight, aggressive performer, Sam complained about him. Reputation as a misogynist.
She leaned back and looked at her scribbles. Three names, all with connections to Samantha. And all of them might be at Valeria’s party on Saturday. Maybe. Valeria Cruz definitely would be at her own party, of course.
That’s exactly the access I need.
It was exciting, but it was also dangerous. These people might know something and if they knew something, they might not want her to find out.
How do these industry parties actually work?
Another search: “Valeria Cruz porn industry parties.”
The results showed glittering events, red carpets, champagne, pool parties, basically people having a good time. But further down in the search results, she found other rumors. Private parties. “Invitation only”. A cryptic Threadit post:
33
t/PornIndustryGossip
Posted by u/DiddleMeThisBadgirl
u/sneering_platypus
-8 points
She frowned. What the hell was going on at these “special parties”?
Her gaze fell on the clock in the corner of the screen: 11:49 p.m.
Fuck.
She had gone completely lost in this rabbit hole for a few hours. Her laptop’s battery warning flashed aggressively. Ten percent.
Chloe closed her laptop, plugged in the charging cable, and rubbed her sore neck.
She stood up, her knees creaking after sitting for so long. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, then changed out of her hoodie and into a sleep shirt, turned off the light, and got into bed.
But she couldn’t relax. The names kept running through her head.
Valeria Cruz. Elena Rodriguez. Trevor Knight.
On Saturday, she would be in Valeria Cruz’s territory and might encounter some of those people. As Chloe Heart, the new, willing performer who was so grateful for the invitation.
That’s the plan, that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m putting up with this.
Despite everything today had cost her, she was making progress, getting closer to the truth one small step at a time.
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