Chapter 3
Time dragged on for the next few days. I went to work at the restaurant (I still had bills to pay), though my mind was still on the shoot and what happened afterwards (how could it not be, for the next two days I had a good kind of soreness to constantly remind me). I was a bit disappointed not to hear from Jimmy. I thought I had made it pretty clear to him I wanted him to fuck me again. I'd never been that forward with a guy, but I thought for sure he would take me up on it. But as far as the shoot went, my curiosity finally got the best of me. I wanted to see how it turned out, so one day, after I got home from the restaurant, I gave Randy a call. He said that he had a shoot that afternoon, but I was more than welcome to come by after, about 8 or 9.
I had little else to do that afternoon, so I showed up about 8:30. I didn’t knock because I didn’t want to interrupt the shoot if it was still going on. Despite the fact there were cars out front, the set was empty. I called out for Randy, and in a moment he came up from the back of the house. He greeted me quite friendly, then asked if I wouldn’t mind waiting up front. The shoot was over, but they were editing on the video, so they would be done in a moment. I said sure. He told me to relax, make myself a drink if I wanted, and he went back.
I walked around the set. It had been rearranged a bit. I walked over to the props table. There was an assortment of dildos that hadn’t been there my last shoot. None of them seemed wet, but I had a feeling some of them had just been used so I didn’t touch them. There was little else to hold my attention, so I went into the kitchen and poured myself some vodka and juice.
There were messy piles of papers and magazines and a laptop on the kitchen table. Many of the papers were receipts. The magazines were no surprise to be porn mags. I sat in front of the laptop. It was on. I normally didn’t like to pry, but I figured what the fuck, if he left it out and open, it can’t be that wrong to look at it. One of the windows said ‘models’ so I clicked it, looking for my pseudonym. There it was, with a scan of my headshot and my contact info, but no other photos. I looked for Jimmy, just out of curiosity, but only girls seemed to be listed. I closed the window. There were several labeled ‘photos,’ about ten, all followed by a sequence of numbers and letters. I clicked on one. There were more than a hundred photos of some suicide blonde posing. She was kind of big-hipped and her face wasn’t that pretty. I closed it and opened another. Another blonde. This one looked young, must’ve just been 18. She didn’t seem to know what she was doing in front of the camera, all these dumb expressions. I closed it and opened another, then another, until I opened one and saw a girl and a guy. The guy was tall and skinny, dark hair, not great looking, but he did have a big penis. The girl was the same blonde from the first folder I opened. And they weren’t just having fake sex, they were really fucking. There were shots of her lips around his cock, and others of him obviously buried inside her. The last shots were of him cumming on her face.
Closing that one, I opened another. This time I recognized the male as Jimmy, and he was fucking a cute brunette with big tits. And like the last file, they were really having sex. It was the same routine of pics. There were some of the girl sucking his cock (man, did it look big on camera!), some of his head buried between her legs, and some of him fucking her. It ended with a huge amount of cum on the girl’s stomach and tits.
I realized I was hot! My blood was pumping faster; I had that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know if it was from seeing his cum, remembering how much he shot up inside me, seeing his cock, or what. Hell, it was probably just from looking at porn.
I heard someone coming and quickly shut the file. I walked back to the mini-bar. My glass was empty now so I refilled it. There was a guy looking at me from the doorway. I turned and our eyes met. Then he just turned away and went on up the hall without saying hello. I didn’t get to see him long, but he looked pretty good. I stood there for a moment, then leaned against the counter, sipping my drink.
Then he came back, stepping into the kitchen this time. My first impression was right, he was hot. He seemed about my age. He was tall, thin, had a five o’clock shadow and messy black hair.
“Hi, how are you?” he said, locking eyes with me and smiling.
“I’m good,” I said. He rummaged through the fridge for a moment and I said nothing. “I’m Rachel,” I said.
He looked up, smiled again, “I’m Alex. Sorry for being rude.”
“No problem,” I said. After a moment, I asked. “Do you model for Randy?”
“No,” he said, as if he was trying to assure me he was a decent person. “Do you?” he said. “No, I mean, I know you do. I saw the proofs of your shoot.”
“So you’ve got an advantage on me,” I tried to tease. “You’ve already seen me naked.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And then some.” Then he seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”
“No, it’s okay, it doesn’t bother me, or I wouldn’t have done the shoot.”
“It’s pretty good,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. “So, what do you do here?”
“I help mix the sound sometimes,” he said. “Or other technical stuff.”
“Why don’t you model?” I asked.
“No...” he said. “They’ve got guys for that.”
“You could,” I said. “It pays pretty good.”
“Not for guys,” he said. "I make enough money, anyway."