I am in the vanity room when I get the call. Without dismissing my makeup artist for privacy I simply listen. That's how these calls always worked. I only needed to listen; if I was to accept the job I was to merely say yes, or no if I didn't.
"A car will be available," the feminine voice tells me, "just follow the instructions in the email sent to you."
"Yes," I say and hang up.
"Who was that?" Johnny, my makeup artist asks, a little puzzled. He was new, so he didn't understand these calls yet.
"No one," I say. And just then I am called back on set. Holding the tail of my robe, I follow the intern out of the room, through a swarm of people holding different filming equipment and in front of the cameras. My co-stars were already there and ready: naked and warming up. Mandy is on the bed with her legs spread apart and rubbing her pussy, trying to get Holland to get hard. He is stimulating his dick while watching her but it is not at all budging. There was only one final scene left to shoot, the cumshot scene, where Mandy and I are kneeling on the floor with our tongues out for Holland's warm cum to splash our face and breasts. The cum could be faked but not his hard dick. It was one of a kind and why he was famous. It was ten inch long and was as soft as it looked; it did not have any veins at all, which is really surprising considering how much he uses it.
Sometimes, I feel for the male pornstars, they're less in number and overworked to the point where they just can't get it up at all. Pills might help but Holland isn't the type to use them. They have a deteriorating effect in the long term, he knows that.
Mandy is now getting her own hands on him. She spits on it and lathers it all over. Still, nothing.
"Hey," I say, going up to them. "Need any help?"
Holland looks at me and reddens. "Umm, yeah a little."
"Hey, it's working!" Mandy says with a mouthful of his dick and continues sucking.
I let my robe fall to the floor and reveal my body dressed in only black see through stockings. I can feel hundreds of ogling eyes on me. Wanting to touch it, taste it, experience it. But only Holland and Mandy can do that for now.
Holland looks me up and down, taking it all in. My blonde hair, blue eyes, my widely-acclaimed model face that's perfect for fucking, my slender neck, boobs that can barely fit in the biggest hands, waist that one can wrap their arm around easily to lift me and my thick thighs that can warm ones ears to a comfortable temperature. He gulps when I turn around and bend down to pick up my robe. I arch my back slightly so he can have a proper view of my thick pussy and my tight asshole. From the corner of my eye, I see his hand twitch, as if aching to shove it inside me.
"Done!" Mandy exclaims. I straighten up with my robe and hand it to an intern who comes rushing for it. Mandy continues to stroke his dick so as to not let it go limp again. The director calls for us to get into position, Mandy and I get on our knees in front of his dick. A camera comes into position in front of Holland's chest and starts recording.
"Whenever you're ready," the director calls out.
I wrap my lips around Holland's tip and then remove it with a pop. I smile into the camera and say, "Cum for us, baby."
Without any further help, Mandy and I are immediately rained on with his sweet cum.
*
A black sedan is waiting for me where the email specified it would be. I get in, the driver verifies me in the rear-view mirror and drives off without a word. I am dressed in my pyjamas that are hidden by my trench coat. I was told my outfit will be given at the destination so I didn't bother to be fancy and only did my makeup and put on some perfume. This particular one is the same one that I had worn in my most watched video, which was now stuck at 150k views. I don't usually get to keep my outfits from the set but this was completely soaked with my juices so they let me have it after I insisted. I could've probably sold them then to some creep online for double the amount I got paid to soak them but they were too comfortable and cute to not keep them for myself. Before I could even decide, they were already in the wash and with it lost their value.
I am what many would consider an underrated pornstar. Mostly because my videos aren't always free and thus only get a certain number of views. It doesn't mean that I am not successful though. In the second year of my career at age twenty when I was a free agent and fucking for any camera in the world, I was scouted to work exclusively for a premium pornsite called LureYou. It's a website that only the richest of the rich use because unlike other websites that have subscriptions, it has a pay-per-view format and each video no matter how mediocre, has an exorbitant price, mostly because of its extremely alluring cast and high quality production. Just the foreplay scenes can make anyone orgasm, that's a guarantee.
The car stops gently in front of a modern mansion surrounded by high raised concrete walls. I get off and make my way towards the tall imposing gate. A red light towards the side flickers and the wicket gate swings open silently before I even reach it. I am greeted by a slender tall brunette. She's wearing a tightly fitted suit that makes her look more like a lawyer than a butler. As elegantly as a swan she bows to me and directs me to the back of the mansion into the garden. I follow her all the while admiring the interior of the giant boxy building seen through the glass walls. It's certainly something only a filthy rich person can call a home.
Another thing that makes LureYou special is that not only can you buy videos, you can also buy the people in it. For a limited time, obviously. It was also the reason why I decided to lose free agency. I mean who wouldn't when you're getting paid five figures for one night?
We stop in front of some bushes that line the glass wall. She reaches down and rummages around for something in the bushes. Then she stops as if finding what she was looking for. With a single downward movement of her shoulder, part of the bush collapses into the ground and lets out a bright white light that prompts me to shield my eyes.
When my eyes adjust, I look inside. It's a fucking stairwell. Why couldn't they keep the entrance to the basement inside the house? Why are rich people so weird?
The suit lady stands up and just walks away. Obviously, it's my sign to go inside. I take careful steps down the spiralling steps with my hands on the walls enclosing it. The descent is brightly lit by LED lamp lights mounted a little higher than my eye level. My flip flops echo in this deserted place.
When I reach the last step I am greeted by yet another lady in a suit. This time it's a blonde. She simply starts walking down the passageway which is, contrary to the stairwell, dimly lit. She opens a door at the end and then closes it after I enter the room. Its walls are similar to the passageway and the room is comparatively empty except for a camera mounted in the centre of the room on a tall tripod and an outfit laid down on a bench in front of it.
In the email they did mention that I would be required to snap some photos before and after the job. But there was no camera operator in sight. I shed my trench coat and my pyjamas and lift the outfit to light. It's a white t-shirt, a black mini skirt, black see through stockings, a red tie and matching stilettos. Guess it must be a school themed night.
Just when I finished donning it, a small part of the wall behind the camera rotates and sends a woman inside. She's a petite woman with barely an ass or tits. She's dressed in a red bikini and holding a glass of champagne in one hand and what seems to be a vibrating dildo in another.