2. Chapter 2
2
Sophie
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Where is it?” I mutter to myself, digging through my laptop bag. Everything is in there–my laptop and charging cord, the books I brought to read on the plane, the external hard drive that I travel with, the snacks I bought in the airport–except for one very vital thing. My phone charger is missing. How did I forget my fucking phone charger? I used it at the airport. I know I did.
I freeze, my mind running through the events from my layover this afternoon. I unplugged my phone as they announced pre-boarding and must have forgotten to grab the cord before standing up and moving to gather with the rest of the passengers. The crowd was restless, so I was more focused on not jostling people as I passed them.
Cool.
Having already showered and readied for bed, I now have to go to the front desk and purchase one of the cords from their little shop. I groan and grab my key and wallet, slip on my aged flip-flops, and hurry out of my room, and down the hall.
My nipples harden in the cold hallway, showing beneath my thin, oversized t-shirt. The soft slap of flip-flop against foot is louder than I would like it to be as I speed walk to the elevator. I jam my thumb against the button and cross my arms over my breasts to hide my traitorous nipples, knowing there’s a camera somewhere, but not wanting to find it .
The elevator dings and the shiny, metal doors slide open to allow me to enter. How is it even colder in here? I shiver and press the button for the lobby, still muttering to myself about how stupid it was to just walk away from the damn charger in the airport. Some lucky fucker got a new one for free. I bought it yesterday, specifically for the trip. The one I keep on my bedside table at home is a little worse for wear.
The elevator reaches the lobby, but before I can squeeze through the barely open doors, I’m nearly bowled over. The man, who doesn’t seem fazed by the collision, is older with only a rim of white hair at the back of his head and gray stubble on his face. It’s August and hot as hell outside, but he’s wearing a huge coat, holding it tightly closed. He mutters an apology as he presses a button for his floor and I slip out before the doors can close again. Why can’t people just look where they’re going?
I round the corner and my eyes fall on the little shop, if you can call it that. It’s more of an alcove right by the front desk. There’s an assortment of candy bars, a few first aid items and toiletries, a small refrigerator with drinks, and a freezer with meals and ice cream. At the end is a group of chargers next to some earbuds. I hurry over and grab the right charger for my phone, but when I turn to the front desk, no one is there.
“Fucking great,” I groan.
I can’t let my damn phone die, so rather than return to my room, I sit on one of the couches that face the front desk. I really hope it doesn’t take too long.
This wasn’t the plan. I should’ve gone to bed earlier. Hell, I should’ve arrived earlier, but my second flight out of Chicago was delayed due to storms in the area. The Midwest still won’t leave me alone, it seems.
Footsteps approach from the hallway and I glance up to see the front desk employee who checked me in. She’s a petite older woman with dark hair and somewhat wrinkled, tan skin. Her dark eyes are warm when she smiles at me.
“I’m so sorry, were you waiting for me?” she asks, eyes falling to the cord in my hands.
“No, you’re fine!” I exclaim. I hop up and meet her at the desk so she can scan the item. “I just realized I forgot my charger at the airport,” I groan dramatically.
We make the transaction quickly.
I start to pry the container open as I head back to the elevator, crossing my arms after I press the button. My nipples need to calm the fuck down. Still messing with the plastic, I sway side to side as I wait for the doors to open. There’s a spectacularly comfortable bed waiting for me in a probably too-cold room–just the way I like it .
The elevator ride and trek back down the hallway take no time at all without someone trying to knock me over. My phone, sitting on the bedside table, is at three percent battery. That’s the lowest I’ve let it get in a while. I can’t remember the last time I even let it get below forty.
I quickly plug it in and turn on my alarm. I always wake up at least half an hour before I think I need to and that’s still probably far earlier than most people would. It’ll be my luck that I get to my destination with an hour still to go before I’m supposed to be there, but that’s my burden to bear. Early is on time and on time is late.
I yank the covers back and crawl beneath them. With a sigh, I turn off the light, flop my head on the pillow, and hunker down in the sixty-five-degree room. Perfect sleeping temperature.
My alarm would piss me off if it weren’t for the fact that I’m excited for my collab today. Tony Gerth is someone I’ve wanted to work with for a while, but we haven’t been able to align our schedules until now. The excitement doesn’t make me any less tired as I reach to turn off the noise and turn on the bedside lamp.
I go through my normal routine for a shoot day. Body shower, quickly curling my hair, and the full face of makeup. Happy that I don’t need to dress nicely only to strip the moment I arrive, I slip on a pair of cropped joggers and an old T-shirt. After placing my laptop on the desk, I empty the rest of the contents from its bag next to it. To the bag, I return a variety of items I’ll need for the shoot, including release forms, my costume, and a pair of shiny, black heels. The pumps have been featured in a lot of my content recently and are looking a little worse for wear, but I don’t see them getting much screen time today, if any.
The heat out on the street wouldn’t be overwhelming if it weren’t for the humidity that comes along with it, even at nine in the morning. August in New York City isn’t going to be on my travel list again, but it was the only option if I wanted to get here this year.
My Uber driver waves as he pulls up and I slide into the back, placing my headphones on before we even pull away from the curb. I don’t want to be mean, but I can’t be bothered to answer questions about my trip .
I like being aware of what’s going on, so rather than playing loud music and zoning out, I pull up the map on my phone and follow our progress to the location in silence. We take no detours and as the hotel comes into view, I let out a sigh of relief.
The hotel lobby is gleaming and bright with tall white columns and a grand chandelier hanging in the center. I pass through and head for the elevators, trying not to attract attention. Tony’s a local, but his apartment is having some major work done. Since he has my collab and a few others scheduled, he splurged on a room for the week. I admire the professionalism. I can think of several performers who simply would have canceled, despite knowing I came here for them. Not everyone is consistent and reliable in this business.
I’m thankful I don’t have to worry about how clean he keeps his apartment. My brain calls forth a rather nasty memory of a recent collab. I shudder as I step onto the elevator and press the button for Tony’s floor. My body trembles with pre-filming jitters. As the elevator doors open to let me out, I work my jaw to keep it from locking up with anxiety.
Breathe .
The hallway extends to either side of the elevators and I check the sign to figure out which direction to take. Room 521.
As the door comes into view, my anxiety skyrockets. I shake out the arm not holding my bag, pull off my headphones, and knock. The sound of my knuckles colliding with the hard surface is jarring in the silent hallway. A muffled shout comes from the other side.
“One sec!”
The door swings open, bringing me face to face with a man I’ve only ever texted. A man whose body I’ve seen a whole heck of a lot more than his face because, well, that’s the nature of the job. I could probably pick his cock out of a lineup.
“Honey?” Tony’s voice is deep and full of excitement. His brown eyes are warm with fairly pronounced crow’s feet in his tan skin when he smiles. He’s wearing a white tank top that shows every gorgeous muscle and baggy, black pants. The absurd thought occurs to me that he’s taller than I expected.
“Yep! Tony?” Even if I didn’t recognize his face, the tattoo on his right bicep is one I’ve seen many times during my self-care sessions. My cheeks warm at the most recent memory.
“Good to meet you, come on in.” Tony steps aside and allows me access to the room.
It’s much larger than my home for the week. The king-size bed juts out into the room next to a stiff-looking couch. An armchair, coffee table, and desk round out the ‘living space’. The curtains are flung wide open to allow as much natural light as possible to hit the furniture. His tripod is set up, angled toward the bed.
“How was your flight?” Tony asks, closing the door behind me.
“Not bad, I got delayed out of Chicago,” I say absently, still examining my surroundings.
“Does it meet your expectations?”
“It’ll do,” I tease and set my bag against the wall furthest from the bed.
The first step is always administrative stuff, which includes signing each other’s release forms and taking ID photos for our records.
“Can I get you anything?” Tony asks as I strip near the desk in the corner.
“I forgot my water bottle,” I groan, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it onto the chair next to me. My bra joins it seconds later.
“I’ve got extras.” He places a bottle on the desk next to me.
Four years in, two of which have included working with co-performers, and it still feels bizarre to change in front of a person who’s going to see me naked in five or ten minutes anyway.
The lingerie I chose is easy to pull off so that, when the time comes, it won’t require us to pause or cut anything from filming. When I’m finished, I turn to face my co-star whose back is still turned.
“Ready?” I ask. He’s still fully clothed.
Tony turns and grins, his eyes freely roving my body. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t notice his own sharp intake of breath.
This part, I like. I may be a bigger woman, but my ability to make a man stare in awe is a power I’ll never take for granted.
“Let’s get to work.” He removes everything except his boxers, so quickly I barely have time to register his movements.
Before beginning, we each take a couple of selfies for social media–another basic requirement, though not for legality or safety. Marketing is a huge part of the job. We place our phones in their tripods and angle them so that neither will pick up the other, while still getting as much of the room as possible. It’s always best to get multiple angles, not just for variety, but in case one phone or camera fails.
There’s no intro into the scene, no scenario to set up. It saves me from having to act, which is something I’ve never been good at. Some adult performers lean into the ridiculous, bad acting, but I haven’t quite reached that level of confidence .
Tony stands in front of one of the cameras, far enough away to be seen from the shins up. I sink to my knees, the carpet rough on my skin. I’ve got to start using a pillow or even a couple of towels for a cushion. My knees hate this position, but it gives a great angle for the viewer. Tony’s eyes meet mine and he brushes a hand down my cheek before gripping my chin. We keep eye contact for another moment before he speaks.
“Get to work.” It’s an order, but his voice is soft and gentle.
Looking up at him through my lashes, I slowly lower his boxers. His cock, thick and curved slightly upward, falls out and I lick my lips as my eyes drop to stare. The act is only half for the cameras. I’ve been looking forward to this.
Tony uses the hand opposite the camera to grip my hair gently and guide me forward. Swirling my tongue across the tip brings forth a moan from Tony’s throat. Taking him into my mouth pulls another from him. I smile around his cock and move my head, using my hand to stroke in time.
He allows me to set the pace, his grip light in my hair. I bob back and forth and my free hand finds his thigh to steady myself. Every few pumps, he pulls me forward, forcing me to take him down my throat as far as I can, but he lets go almost immediately each time.
Before long, my face is a mess. Tears have caused streaks of mascara to make black paths down my cheeks and there’s a fair bit of mucus and saliva covering my chin and his cock. Tony glances at his phone, the one nearest to us, to gauge the time we’ve been filming. Judging that we’ve been in this position long enough, he pulls me off and I gasp for air. Tony bends and his lips find mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
“Get on the bed,” he orders with a growl.
Tony removes his boxers completely, kicking them away. He moves the tripod while I slowly stand. I crawl onto the bed and he lands a firm smack on my ass, making me giggle. I flop onto my back, lying sideways across the bed for the sake of the cameras. His hand grazes my skin before he crosses the bed and rounds the corner.
Tony climbs up and reaches for the waistband of my panties. He slides them down while I lift my ass up to help and then tosses them toward one of the cameras, just missing it. The bed shifts with his weight as he settles between my legs, hands going to the backs of my knees to lift them. He shifts so that the camera behind him has the perfect angle. My eyes flutter closed and I moan as he slides inside me.
I love the stretch. One of the best things about porn is the size of the dicks I get to fuck. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I hadn’t realized until working with other creators that I even had that preference. None of my partners outside of the industry had been well-endowed, so I wasn’t exposed to it until then. Turns out I'm a size queen.
While Tony continues to fill me, he pulls down one cup of my bra to bare my tit and lowers his mouth to my nipple. I raise my far hand to grip his hair and moan again as he fully seats himself within me.
When his tongue swipes over my nipple, I whisper a curse. His hips pump back and forth, picking up speed. He’s forced to remove his mouth, but his hand replaces it. He massages my breast, pinches and pulls on my nipple, all while pistoning in and out. He leans forward to kiss me aggressively, his tongue practically attacking mine.
After several more minutes of some seriously intense fucking, Tony pulls out, slapping his cock on my clit. The contact causes me to twitch and whine. He sits back on his heels, grasping my ankle and adjusting me so he’s no longer between my legs.
“On your knees,” he says with a grin.
I roll over and get on all fours, then feel his hand gently pressing my upper back. He forces me to lower my head and chest to the bed. My ass is still in the air and Tony angles my hips for the camera before he slaps himself on one buttcheek. He enters me again with a deep thrust and I cry out.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pulling out and landing another, harder smack on my ass.
This slap jars me, causing my chest and my pussy to tighten. Tony grunts and speeds up. He grips my hips and starts a punishing rhythm. My arm furthest from the cameras flies up above my head to keep my body from moving forward with the power of his thrusts. My other hand grips the comforter next to my shoulder.
I have to fight to keep my eyes from closing. I want so badly to focus on the pleasure he’s causing. Even though I doubt I’ll see an orgasm during this scene, I can’t deny it’s fun.
“Roll over,” he orders with urgency, pulling out.
I move as quickly as possible to get into the final position. He half straddles me with one leg over my torso, but his foot is on the bed so his weight isn’t on me. He fists his cock while I lay with my mouth open and my eyes closed. It’s better than flinching every time I think this stroke will be the finishing move.
He grunts and I feel the warm, wet, stickiness cover my face and tongue. After just a few seconds, the shower stops .
Naked, sweaty, and with a face covered so that I can’t open my eyes, I smile while Tony grabs his camera to take an ‘after’ picture.
“One sec,” he chuckles, straddling me while he rubs his softening cock between my breasts for the photos.
I giggle, feeling silly just lying here, unable to see what he’s doing. I don’t even realize I’m biting my bottom lip until he groans and swipes a thumb over it. He surprises me by leaning down and kissing me. The only thing going through my mind as his tongue presses forward into my mouth is that this will definitely be a hot way to end the scene.
Tony pulls away but tells me to stay put. A minute later, he returns with a damp cloth, wiping his cum from my eyes. When he seems to have most of it removed, he presses the cloth into my hand to allow me to finish up.
“You ok?” he asks. “I’m stopping the cameras.”
“I’m good,” I chuckle, finally feeling that I’ve done enough with the cloth to open my eyes. Tony did his best, but it never hurts to be thorough. My lashes are sticky with damp mascara.
“That was great.” Tony’s still naked, searching through the footage on his phone to see if anything got messed up. It’s better to know now than in a few weeks when we’re editing the content.
“Absolutely,” I agree.
I slide off of the bed and take my phone from my tripod, imitating him in reviewing the footage. The angle I have shows more of my face at the end until Tony grabbed his phone for the final shots. Not only is this going to be a great video, it’s long . We took over an hour which means I’ll be able to split it to sell in two or three parts.
I’m so focused on reviewing the footage that I forget I’m not alone. Tony’s voice startles me.
“You hungry? We could grab something before you go.”
My eyes flick to him, then back to my phone noticing it’s near noon.
“I’m actually gonna head back,” I say with a grimace. “It’s going to be a long week and I want to get as much rest as I can when I’m not working.”
Tony smiles.
“No worries. Are you doing any touristy things while you’re here?” He picks up his boxers and slips them on, but doesn’t make a move to find any other clothing while I dress .
“I hadn’t thought of anything. I still have a couple of shoots that are up in the air,” I add.
“Well, make sure you take some time for yourself while you’re here. Every work trip needs a little pleasure.”
“I thought that’s what we were just doing?” I wink and Tony laughs.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I giggle. “If you have any recommendations, I’d appreciate them.”
“I’ll text you.”
I wipe away as much of the mascara beneath my eyes as possible and, a few minutes later, I head back down to the lobby to wait for another Uber. While standing on the curb, I fire off a text to my roommate.
Natalie doesn’t travel as much for work as I do but tries to get something in each quarter.
Housekeeping has come and gone. My bed is perfectly made, fresh towels on the racks in the bathroom, trash emptied. I scan the room, hoping I remembered to put away anything remotely damning.
No dildos in sight.
My phone buzzes with a text from Tony. It’s a list of restaurants he says are close to my hotel. I shoot him a response, thanking him and telling him I had a great time working with him.
My stomach rumbles angrily, reminding me that I’m absolutely famished. Sex takes a lot out of you, even when you don’t achieve orgasm. After showering and reapplying just a touch of concealer and a thin coat of mascara, I throw on one of my walking-around dresses, along with a pair of bike shorts to avoid chub rub. I’ve got one of the restaurants on Tony’s list in mind, a Thai place he says has been around for over a decade and produces the “best motherfucking spring rolls you’ll ever put in your mouth”. Lucky for me, it’s only three blocks away.
Teeny Thai-nee is one of the most ridiculous restaurant names I’ve heard of, but the place lives up to it. The line is out the door, but I can see through the window that there are just six tables inside the busy little restaurant and every one of them is full. Most customers are taking their orders to go.
No nice, easy sit-down lunch for Sophie.
I walk at a brisk pace to get back to the cool room waiting for me. The temperature in the lobby instantly dries the sweat on my skin, turning it sticky rather than slick. I’m never traveling in August again unless it’s to a tropical beach where I can drink daiquiris in a bathing suit all day.
I yank out the two containers from the plastic bag, one containing the spring rolls and the other the pad see ew. The plastic utensils look sturdy enough for the meal, but the first thing I focus on is the container of spring rolls. They came with a brown dipping sauce that has scallions floating in it and smells delicious.
I can’t wait any longer. Taking one of the little parcels, which looks almost burnt, I dip one end in the sauce. It’s thin, soaking into the crunchy wrapper. I take the first bite and I don’t know if it’s that good or if I’m just famished, but I swear to god, it’s fucking orgasmic. I pull my phone across the table and take a quick selfie, mouth still full, holding up the remains of the spring roll. I send the picture to Tony with a quick thank you before devouring the rest of the food.