I have a whole series of these stories written. They work pretty well as stand alone stories, all revolving around Tucker Sims and his porn studio, but some things will make more sense if you read them in the order they were posted. I hope you enjoy them. As usual, the people and places are fictional. All characters are over eighteen.
———————
A Messy Divorce
"God you're a dumb shit! Why the fuck did I ever marry you!"
Tracy hung up on her shit-head of a husband, and came close to throwing her phone against the wall. Marty was a fuck-up. She knew it when she married him, but his big dick had hypnotized her, leading her all the way to the altar.
Tracy had a thing for big cock. Doesn't every girl? No? Well, Tracy did. It started when she was fourteen, on a backpacking trip with a dozen other kids in the Adirondacks. But that's a story for another time. Marty had a big cock and it was the reason she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.
He was a shit-for-brains of a husband, always getting in trouble, losing jobs, saying dumb things to the wrong people. Tracy wasn't exactly working with a full deck either. Some folks would say they were made for each other, but Tracy, she'd had enough. She wanted out of the marriage.
Marty blew a gasket when she told him. She was worried he was gonna fuck her up physically, but he didn't. He took his revenge out in other ways — turning friends against her, trying to sabotage her at her waitress job, and posting sex videos he'd taken of her, all over the internet. That's the thing that really got her, because when he'd post one he'd send out a mass email with a link to it, to anyone he thought might know her. The way he captioned them pissed her off more than anything — Girl Can't Fuck; World's Worst Lay; Doesn't Know What To Do With It. She looked like a deer in the headlights in the videos, because she hated being filmed. Hated it. Got so nervous she really
did
look like the world's worst lay, even though she was far from it with the camera turned off. It wasn't so much the camera that freaked her out as the dumb-ass who was holding it. When he was making those videos she knew, just knew, that he'd show them to somebody someday, probably his stupid friends, and she froze up thinking about it. Nervous. Not sexy. Like a cold fish.
"I hate you you
fuckin' asshole!
" she screamed at the phone after she'd hung up.
She got another email later that day:
Click
here
to see the ice queen I'm divorcing. You won't want her either.
The link was to a sex video from when they'd first met, Tracy saying "no" repeatedly when Marty asks for doggie style. She finally gives in but looks horrified.
"That's
it!
" she screamed in the empty room. "I do
not
look like that when I'm having
fun
you asshole, and you
know it!
I should make a fuckin'
porn
, with a
real
man,
then
everybody'd fuckin' see!"
She was fuming. Smoke coming out of her ears? Pretty close. She put on her waitress uniform and went to work. Dinner shift and late night. She was so pissed off she didn't even take a shower before she went in. Her makeup was a mess.
"You run late or somethin'?" her waitress friend Erin said when she saw her.
"Dumb-ass got me wound up again."
"What this time? Not another video..."
"Yup. And a fuckin' phone call. He loves fuckin' with me."
"Can't your lawyer do anything?"
"Nope. I can't afford one who knows anything, and there's no money in the fuckin' marriage, so nobody's gettin' anything. What did he call it? Leverage. No fuckin' leverage."
"So, ride it out. Don't pay attention to the asshole."
"Yeah. Fuckin' easy for you to say. I'd love to throw it right back at him. Prove to the world I'm not a fuckin'...what did he call me?...ice queen? I should make a porn and burn up the fuckin' screen. Then he'd probably start whining that he wants me back, the fuckin' prick."
"I know a guy," Erin said, smiling mischievously.
"You
know
a guy? What the fuck you mean you
know
a guy?"
"Porn. I know a guy."
"I don't need another wanker with a phone camera. I'm tryin' to get rid of one of those."
"No, for real. There's supposed to be a studio, right here in town. A friend of mine is friends with a guy who works there. He's gayer than shit. He does, like, guys makeup or some shit. I dunno. I can find out if you want," Erin said, smiling mischievously again.
"How'd my life get so fucked up?" Tracy said. "Marry one jerk..."
"Erin, you take the front tonight," their manager said. "Tracy, you get the bar, all right? Don't forget girls, I had to let Lana go because of sneekin' drinks from Max. He's on thin ice himself, so don't fuck things up, all right. Do your drinkin' after work."
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Tracy said.
They put their aprons on and got to work.
———————
A few days later Tracy was sitting in Tucker's Office, telling him her story, showing him the awful videos her dick-head husband had spread around.
"I'll be honest with you Tracy, I'm a little worried," Tucker said. "You do
not
look comfortable in front of a camera. What makes you think it'll be different here?"
"I just know it," Tracy said. "It's important to me. I'm good at stuff that matters."
