How I Became Lotus Raine...the Porn Star (2 page)

THIS WHOLE SITUATION feels odd. I feel wrong parking in the front lot instead of having to pull into the employee garage underneath. I shouldn’t be allowed to walk through the front glass doors of this massive eighteen-story building like I own the damn place. But that’s my plan.

Not only is appearance a huge part of image, so is confidence and how you outwardly portray yourself. Brent told me to own it this morning as he basically pushed me out the door so he could get back to his speed art project.

So, here I am, owning this bitch.

I grab each door handle and fling the doors wide open as I strut in, except my strutting is short lived. They lie in the movies. My hair isn’t blowing back as I make my way through, and people aren’t watching as I almost fall trying to beat the doors that apparently have some sort of ‘close super-fast’ or aka ‘hurry da fuck up’ mechanism programmed into them.

I make my way to the elevator and press the up button. One quickly dings, and I jump in and hope I’m alone for the ride. Ten floors and thirty seconds later, I arrive at my stop. My instinct is to hold my jacket in front of my chest as some sort of protective shield. Not because I’m ashamed of who I am, but these people never paid attention to me before, why should they be allowed to now.

But once the door dings, my ‘I’m gonna own this bitch’ mentality comes back in full force. I hold my jacket to my side and step off the elevator. I glance around the cubicle filled area and flip my hair off my shoulder. People are looking. Everyone is curious. Anytime the elevator dings, everyone looks. I know the routine. But this time, they don’t look down, returning to their work after spotting who’s here. They all stare…and I smirk. Most jaws are hanging in pure shock, while the rest linger between half smiles and scowls.

I know the route to Shepard’s office well and dread having to pass by Mr. Callahan’s on the way. Maybe the blinds will be down while Rachel does some research in his pants.

Oh, how I still hate her. But at the same time, maybe I should thank her. Her willingness to drop to her knees is partly responsible for where I am today. I’m almost to the door, I can tell that it’s closed and I breathe out in relief. I debate sprinting past or even ducking on all fours to crawl under his windows as an added measure to avoid confrontation. Even though some like to think being on all fours is a form of ‘owning it’, that’s not the look I’m going for today.

Plus, me being here is only going to piss Rachel off even more so than I already have in the past. I shouldn’t try to avoid that. I should revel and jump for joy, but the familiar sound of her laugh through the closed door keeps me from doing so. As I’m passing by, I chance a glance into the office. The blinds are fully pulled up, exposing the fornicating couple to the outside world. Sure, to some, it might look innocent with Rachel perched up on her boss’s desk, but to the rest of us and anyone associated with HR, or the
Men in Black
, it looks anything but.

Mr. Callahan is looking down, and Rachel’s body is facing away from me. I thought I was getting off easy, but knew it was too good to be true. Her head slowly starts turning my way and for a moment, I think it’s going to just keep spinning—since she’s possessed and all.

Her head stops once she spots me, and the heffer sneers and I own that moment—by acting like a twelve-year old boy in response, of course.

I air jack and shoot a huge load of air jizz her way.

Right around the time my hand moves upward, finding my air release, Mr. Callahan’s head shoots up. It was perfect timing if I do say so myself. Not only did I just pull off the most epic yank yank toss in the history of all jack off gesturing, I smoothly blended it into an unintended wave.

He gives me a slight wave back before pulling his glasses off and rubbing his forehead.

More than happy with the way that just went; I all but skip the rest of the way to Shepard’s office wondering why I never left this place sooner.

I turn the corner and walk through the open door that’s been more welcoming than anyone or anything thus far. Shepard’s at his desk with his head down, unaware of my presence. I close the door behind me to gain his attention and to shut out any prying ears.

“Hey, Shepard.” I walk towards his desk and he stands shooting his hand out for mine. His grip is tight as we shake hands.

“Thanks for coming, Lucy.” He scrunches his brows. “Do you still go by Lucy or should I call you Lotus.”

I laugh as I take my seat. That’s the first time anyone has ever asked.

“Call me whatever you like.” I slightly flirt, enjoying the sight of him squirming. “I answer to both.”

A familiar cold chill hits me, causing goose bumps to shift across my skin. That damn air vent used to always freeze me when this was my office. It was one of the reasons I had moved my desk closer to the window. Besides the outside view and sunlight that would warm my skin, it was the furthest spot away from the blizzard temperatures shooting out of the ceiling.

As I sit across from Shepard, I remember when he first started working here. He was an intern just like I had been. Shy and somewhat timid. Maybe one day he’ll find someone to pull him out of his shell like I did. All it takes is just one person, who’s able to connect with you unlike anyone else, to reach down and unlock the parts you keep tucked away. That’s all it took for me.

Shepard’s nervousness rolls off of him as he shifts his papers around, searching for a pen. He hasn’t even made eye contact since our hands shook. It makes me smile knowing the affect I have on him.

I REMEMBER THE same awkwardness I had felt during the first and only interview I had been assigned. Mine was another chair, another location, but same feelings involved. Actually, mine included way more feelings, days and places. The only thing similar between the two is how I had felt going into it—nervous. I hope when it’s all said and done, Shepard ends this interview the same way I had mine—full of relief and a new direction in life.

“Okay. Well, Lucy. I guess first things first. How’d you get into porn?” Boy, he just barrels right into it. His eyes shift back and forth between his papers and me like he’s reading off a list of questions. I had a list once. I know the nervous sensation he’s feeling is strictly from the content of the interview. Not the interview itself.

I laugh as I relax back into my oversized chair, crossing my legs. His eyes dart down to where my short skirt rides up even further. He gulps—hard—before returning his gaze to mine. I give him a knowing smirk. People hear the word porn star and instantly label me a slut. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

I sigh, “You want the long version or condensed one?” I cock my brow giving him the option. I already know the answer. The purpose of this whole thing is for him to get as much detail as possible. Especially since people can’t seem to grasp how I fell into the porn scene. The more details the better. In this case, I planned on painting him a nice, descriptive picture that would surely have him hard for the duration of this interview.

“The most detailed would be appreciated.” He gulps again, knowing that he’s about to hear all about my XXX story.

“In that case, you better pull your little tape recorder out, Shepard. Because that ball point pen and yellow notepad don’t have the capacity to capture my whole story.” I let out a light laugh thinking about how interesting my story actually is. Maybe not to everyone, but it’s different and that’s what makes it intriguing. “And I would hate for you to miss out on a good part.”

I lean up, causing his breath to hitch as he stares at my low cut shirt with my dangling cross necklace hanging low between my breasts. My eyes stay focused on him as I take a long sip from the cup filled with water. He holds his tape recorder in his hand, waiting for me. I sit back and look out the window as I start to recount how I ended up in this seat today. “Well, it all started when I got let down again. I was passed up on what I had thought to be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“So, was it not an opportunity of a lifetime then?” he asks, sitting back and becoming more invested in the interview instead of me.

“It’s all how you look at it. At the time, in that moment, it was. But that next week was when the true opportunity came. If I would have got the one I originally craved, we wouldn’t be having this conversation today and you wouldn’t be sitting in my old office.” I smirk. “So, I like to think things work out the way they’re intended to.”

IT WAS ANOTHER typical Thursday at Mitchell Publishing. There were five of us researchers sitting around the rectangular desk waiting for the meeting to begin.

Ten minutes late.

They were always ten minutes late. And when Rachel would walk in conspicuously wiping her mouth with a dazed Mr. Callahan shortly behind her, I knew how the meeting would end.

The odds were always in her fucking favor. The reader in me wanted to pull an Effie and yell,
“That’s mahogany,”
but I always kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t until that day that I had finally had enough and lost just enough of my cool to make it clear to my boss I knew what Rachel’s true credentials revolved around.

I had diligently worked my ass off for that interview. I was so confident it was mine; I had my bag packed for the week away it would require. It was the one interview I had always hoped would become a reality. Who wouldn’t want to go on a weeklong tour with their new favorite indie band?

Jaded Lotus was on the rise to mega success and I had been a fan since they first hit the scene. The one person who could care less who the band was or where they came from and the daily struggles they faced, was sucking my dream opportunity away. And in that moment, I hated her.

I moved here three years ago to become more than just a Google pro. Yes, I had loved my job of doing the research these authors needed for their books, but I was ready to be sent out and experience it as well. It was becoming more than apparent that it’d never happen here as long as Mr. Bossman was handing out assignments based of his sexual favorites.

Us eight researches were basically the authors little bitches. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the concept of my job and what it demanded. I just had higher hopes and expectations where it was concerned. I knew the importance of details when it came to storytelling. I’ve heard the stories of authors getting taken to the stake metaphorically, if the reader thought the author hadn’t done their work with studying the subject.

That’s one thing I didn’t understand as a reader, not a researcher. I didn’t get how readers could be so blunt when in disagreement. Usually the point of reading was to escape everyday reality. But once some cross that line, they get so hell bent over something they don’t find logical. Well, let me tell you something—life isn’t always logical. Shocker, I know.

If you want to read about facts, break out an encyclopedia. Not a book written by an author who put their creative mind to use in work clearly labeled fiction. That’s why I happily stayed out of the limelight of the industry. I wasn’t willing to put myself out for the world to judge and tear apart. That happens enough in real life, with real people. Why make it universal?

Half the battle of writing a book was the research involved. If I was able to contribute by keeping the readers from crying wolf, I was willing to suck it up and continue doing so—but never giving up that one day I might finally catch my break.

After the meeting ended, I slammed my notebook shut. I had jotted down the gist of what I was needing to research between the doodles I drew on my paper. I needed to get out of the office quickly, before I let my tongue slip and tell Mr. Callahan how I really felt about it all. I wasn’t in the position to be switching occupations. And opening my mouth would only have resulted in me losing my job. Or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t open my mouth and place it around his dick that I was getting looked over.

I slowly glanced around the meeting room and watched as Rachel stood next to Mr. Callahan and some other guy I had never seen, making small talk while touching Mr. Callahan’s arm each time she’d laugh. Yeah, she was definitely opening her mouth…and her legs. I wanted to stare, to get a better look at what I assumed to be a new addition to the company. But I couldn’t chance Rachel seeing my disappointment over the assignment or curiosity for the new guy. It always seemed she’d go after everything I showed the slightest interest in. Not saying that just because I wanted to check the new guy out meant I was interested, because I wasn’t.