Pamela dropped her towel. A few droplets of water lingered on the back of her neck. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror and smiled at how cute her butt still looked. Normally she never would have dropped her towel before heading into her walk-in closet to change, but she knew no one was home and the blinds were closed.
Twisting around, she ran her hands over her flat stomach and admired her large breasts. At 34 she still looked great. Her natural 36D boobs showed little if any signs of sagging. Her dollar-sized aureoles were brownish pink with raised bumps dotting all around them. In the middle, her erect nipples stood out proudly.
"Yes," Pamela thought. "I've still got it." She turned and pattered into the closet to find something to wear.
She slid each hanger from left to right as she considered each top. None of them were in any way revealing, but she considered each event she went to with care. Despite six years of hiding from her past and three of those in marriage, she knew she couldn't be too careful.
Pamela looked at the brown top she held out in front of herself. It matched her eyes. "Well, at least my new eyes," she muttered to herself. She carried the top and a casual, long skirt out to the mirror. Looking at herself she thought about how different things were now.
It wasn't just her appearance. Sure her contacts changed her eye color from blue to brown. A fact even her husband didn't know about. Her long blond hair was a fading memory. The face looking back at her in the mirror was outlined with a short, brown bob that curled in half way down her neck. She thought it looked classy. Her lips were naturally full and pouty. There wasn't much she could do about that. At 5'-8" she could hide her boobs with clothes that weren't form fitting and she wore padded bras so her long nipples wouldn't poke out.
Pamela wasn't officially part of the FBI Witness Protection Program, but she felt like her self-initiated identity change was more problematic. Mrs. Pamela Jennings was married to Pastor John Jennings. They lived in a tastefully decorated 3 bedroom, 2 baths traditional house in Boone, North Carolina. It was a far cry from the life she had led from age 18 to 28 in LA.
Pamela sighed as she thought about her high school years and her decision to run away after graduation. Her story was the same as a lot of girls. She developed physically at a young age. Somehow she had stayed a virgin until she was 15. With big tits, on a slender waist and small butt, her looks had created a lot of attention in high school and she slowly moved from being the cock-tease cheerleader, to one that experimented with sex on a regular basis. Her dad had divorced her mom her Junior-year and her home-life plummeted downhill from there.
She finished dressing and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. The young 18 year old girl who arrived on a bus in LA to pursue an acting career in Hollywood was gone. After numerous failed auditions and working as a waitress for eight months, her big break came from an agent who she waited on. A chill lingered on the back of her neck as she thought about her first audition at the porn studio.
"So, Wesley sent you over here, huh?" The man with the beer belly and several day's worth of beard growth said, from behind his dark, wood desk.
"Yes," she nodded. "He said you might have a part for me."
The man looked her up and down. "You remind me of a young Savannah from back in the early 90's. Or maybe that newer gal from Playboy, Christa Nicole. What's your name?"
"Sierra," she said quickly, "Sierra Thompson."
"Hmmm... the first name's good, but your last name has to go. Are those your real tits?"
Sierra was taken aback at his directness. Not that she was expecting a normal Hollywood audition. She looked him directly in the eyes, "yes."
"Turn around for me."
Sierra turned around. She had purposely worn a tight shirt and shorts to emphasis her figure.
"Nice. And you are eighteen, correct?"
"Yes," she replied, "I'll be nineteen in a few months."
"I'll get right to the point," he said. "You sign these papers and get one shot. The papers say that I have the right to release a short video on the internet. If it gets a lot of hits, then we'll sign you to a real contract for real money."
Sierra lifted her head proudly. "When do we start?"
He pushed the papers across his desk towards her and held out a pen. "As soon as you sign."
While she grabbed the pen with the confidence of an eighteen year old, that had run away and was living her own life. She also knew that with the stroke of that pen her life would change forever. She looked up to see him smile deviously as she handed him the pen.
"All right then. Go through the door to your right and I'll be with you in a minute."
As Sierra looked closed the door behind her she looked around the room. The room was decorated like a bedroom, with a queen size mattress in the middle, faux windows and curtains, and a lamp stand. Off to the side was a movie camera on a tripod.
The gruff director barged in a few moments later. Right behind him was a muscular guy about six foot four. "This is Paul," he said. "You're going to be doing about a fifteen minute scene with him."
"Are there any lines?" she asked.
He laughed. "No, honey, no lines. You and Paul will meet up in front of the bed and start making out, and then it's like dancing. Just follow his lead."
Sierra looked over at Paul. He was a fairly attractive guy, so at least it wouldn't be hard to make out. The director got behind his camera and made sure everything was operational, and then he looked up. "All right, I'll just be rolling. No pressure. There's only one take, so make it count."
She felt a wave of determination wash over her. There was no way she wasn't going to give it everything she had.
"And... Action!"
Sierra moved forward to meet Paul, realizing there was no turning back now. Paul grinned at her as he moved his head down to nuzzle her neck and whisper into her ear. "I love fucking newbie's. Just relax and go with it. Ignore the camera and pretend it's just you and me."
Sierra closed her eyes and parted her moist, pink lips. She imagined herself on a deserted island, in the grasp of a sailor who was going to ravish her young, nubile body. His mouth found hers at the same time she felt his large hands grasp her swelling breast. She gasped and thrust her chest outwards and into his firm clutches.