Author's Note: This is the continuation of the story Baggage, with the perspective switched from Gwen to David.
Your life can change based on a small accident. Had aspiring porn star Gwen Morgan not spilled her suitcase full of sex toys and lingerie, I wouldn't be driving back to her place after work with a pair of her panties in my boxers.
I came to Los Angeles to become a director, like so many people chasing a dream in this city. But it's a tough dream to achieve. You're told it's a ten-year overnight success, but I think back to all the people I would meet when I first came out here, and how many had retreated back to their hometowns or cheaper big cities when things didn't work out.
I had slummed it doing crew gigs and student films, while taking various jobs to pay the bills. I had been lucky. I had managed to find cheap rents at just the right time and place, and my day job paid me just enough to survive on, though not enough to go out as much as I needed to network, and slowly my job took up more of my time, leaving me unable to schedule more gigs, or else too tired to pursue them. Forget trying to launch my own projects, my student debt was too much. Even with my luck with rent, I was always just getting by. I was always one car emergency or something else away from financial disaster.
That sort of stuff wears you down and puts you in permanent survival mode. Throw in a pandemic and I was just drained of creative energy. I had been lost, feeling like I missed the streaming boom and ruing all the opportunities squandered.
And then I chanced to meet Gwen.
#
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True story, a lot of people have worked in porn. Not on screen, but on set. Few people talk about it openly, but you'll hear it over beers. When you have gone in debt to buy equipment, a paying gig becomes a paying gig. Those cameras, editing suites, lighting equipment, and hair and make-up kits don't pay for themselves. You have to put them to use. When you're an anonymous craftsperson you don't have to worry about ending up in the tabloids for your work. A few directors even talk about it later in life once they are successful. But when you're trying to make it even being an uncredited crew person can make you a pariah in the community. I avoided that concern by never seeking out those jobs.
But Gwen is good at two things that will make her a good porn star: Seduction, and calling out hypocritical bullshit.
#
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I could barely focus on my job. Baggage handling is tough. I had worked my way up from unloading the planes, to delivering the lost baggage back to passengers. I get the good routes: Top hotels and clients in Beverley Hills and the rich enclaves. At this point I can just wave at security guards, front desk clerks and other gatekeepers.
My boss was mad when I got back to work after my impromptu photoshoot with Gwen. I reiterated my threat to jump to another airline. It wasn't an idle threat, though it would be a step down in position. The boss retreated, but then returned to threaten again, I asked for my union representative. That shut him up for the day.
With the boss off my back, I finally had time to think about what I wanted from Gwen. I had always thought about the odds I might meet a porn star at a bar or on Tinder out here. I knew in most cases you wouldn't be getting their on-screen persona, and the shallow fantasies of their films wouldn't happen. And I doubted I could really date someone in the sex industry. My inability to go out had limited that from happening in any case. That, and most of them were not-to-subtly hinting at escorting or seeking out rich or high-status men.
Gwen, I felt, was my own chance, and with the number of cases where I blew chances, professional or romantic, I didn't want to blow this. I wanted to get some sexual fantasies done with her that I might not get again, but the years of porn watching gave me choice paralysis. Selectile dysfunction, if you will.
But when I was stuck in traffic on my final delivery I happened across an interview on public radio with a psychologist talking about mental health and the entertainment industry. He talked about how many people were seeking validation for themselves and their craft. I thought about how Gwen had really given that to me. I knew I wanted to do the casting fantasy, to be the one to do it before the porn industry did it. It was tainted with a "virgin" fantasy I suppose, that I would be her first before the adult industry. But at the same time, I wasn't turned on by the exploitative fake premise of some of those sites, that these are naive newbies. It wasn't a turn-on to be a gatekeeper to a performer reaching for their dream. I hated those people.
What I did think of Gwen was that she was worthy of being the porn star she sought to be. And honestly, it was flattering she loved my work and wanted to pull me in. I wasn't likely to get an A-list actress seeking to work with me. But an X-lister? I could do it, but not by treating her as beneath me.
#
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I arrived back at her hotel. I knocked on the door and waited. My heart raced as I heard her coming toward the door. It opened and she smiled as she saw me.
"Hey, welcome back," she said.
She looked sexy. She had done up her hair and makeup in sexy way. It bordered between classy movie star and trashy stripper. In our shoot before there was a yin and yang between my artistic eye and her need to show it all to her fans. That same dynamic played out now, like she could go either way with that look. That excited me.
"Glad to be back," I said, giving her a kiss.
"Come in," she said.
We walked into the hotel room. I saw several outfits laid out on the bed.
"Sorry about the mess, I am trying to decided which to wear to my audition," Gwen said.
"Tonight's, or tomorrow's?" I asked.
She smiled.
"That's the conundrum, isn't it? I want to give you your choice, but then it will be too messy for tomorrow's shoot," Gwen said.
I look at the outfits. There were casual options (Jeans and T-shirt, sundress, yoga pants), slight more formal (nightclub dress, a pants suit,). She even laid out a women's cut tuxedo.
"I think you should do the dress for tomorrow," I said, "You'll stand out as the classy, especially in the thumbnails."
"Okay, and for you tonight?" she asked.
I looked at the outfits remaining, but nothing really fit my mood. Besides, I already knew what I wanted.
"How about you wear the lingerie from the shoot earlier? Wear it under your hotel robe," I said.
"I thought you wanted an innocent first-timer casting experience," Gwen said.
"I want something a bit different," I said. "I can see that sort of interview whenever."
I explained what I wanted. She nodded.
"Okay. But I need you to agree to one thing," Gwen added.
"What's that?"
"We record this for real," Gwen said.
"Why?"
"This isn't role play for me. I mean, I will be doing it tomorrow. But if you want for porn star fantasy, I need you to go in all the way," Gwen said.
"What if this leaks?" I asked.
"I won't publish it. If you want to, that's your business. I'll have plenty of guys who want this fantasy with me. They'll pay good money. But I know none of them will direct me like you," Gwen said.
"Is this another attempt to bring me into porn?" I asked.
"Maybe. Get a feel for it. If I'm right and you come along, that means I will have a real special first video, rather than a run of the mill casting video," Gwen said.
Damn, she knew how to seduce me. Again, I didn't know if she wanted to fuck me for my looks, my art, or me, but she wasn't going to settle. Neither did I.
"Agreed," I said, "But I want you to say yes to anything you are willing to do in your casting video tomorrow."
"For you, I'll do more," Gwen said.
#
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The camera turns on and Gwen is in frame on the couch. She lounges in her robe, the lingerie she's wearing just visible. She gives the camera a smile.
"Hello there. Can you tell us who you are?" I ask.
"I am Gwen Morgan, age 19."
