How I Became Lotus Raine...the Porn Star (7 page)

Slut-bag. I had thought as I watched her prance her way back down to Mr. Callahan’s office.

Still in shock over what my job for the next week consisted of, I called Reggie. She would be able to ease my mind and make me realize that it wasn’t as big of as a deal as the unexperienced girl in me was freaking out about.

“Holy shit! This is big, Lucy. I mean huge,” she practically screamed with joy.

Way to un-freak me out. I could always count on her.

“You lucky bitch,” I heard the smile in her voice as she continued. Of course that was the type of topic she’d be more than interested in. “Details.” I could imagine her sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for them.

“All I have is an address I’m supposed to go to as soon as I get stuff from my apartment, a key, a list of questions and basically a to do list while I’m there. I don’t even know who it is. Like I’d even know anyways.” I let out a nervous laugh.

“My poor sheltered best friend,” she cooed in a teasing manner.

“No, there’s a difference between logical and sheltered, my friend.” If only I was sheltered instead of the polar opposite.

“Maybe, but being single and not watching porn is by no means logical. It should be criminal. We all have needs babe. Even logical people.”

She didn’t understand. Didn’t get that I had watched porn and how young it had started. It’s the reason I no longer watched it—I read it instead—seemed safer. I’ve told her about the way my mom was and I’m sure still is. How it had me learning and trying things way before my time, taking a sense of innocence with me—even though it was me alone partaking in such things. I didn’t want to be like my mom. That’s why after I went and lived with my dad my freshmen year of high school, I gave myself an inner one-eighty.

That interview had the potential to reverse it all to hell. It could’ve changed me, being around that lifestyle. It could turn me into her. And that thought terrified me.

I followed the directions that were printed out with the address and drove myself downtown. The apartment building was so prestige that I wondered who was footing the bill for the next week. Getting on the elevator, I pushed the up button and nervously waited for it to ascend. Nerves were front and center as the elevator crept up to the seventh floor. I stood in front of apartment number 733 for a good two minutes before I let out a huge breath. I held the key with a shaky hand. I could do this, I kept telling myself. Even though my hand disagreed. Before I could even steady my hand to insert the key, the door flung open and I stood frozen with my mouth wide open—which I’m sure was unattractive.

I almost dropped my bags. I debated backing out. I wanted to start walking backwards, and watch him as I disappeared around the corner—pulling my own magic trick. Magic Lucy wanted to poof from sight.

I wanted to crawl back under my rock I’d been living in before last week and hide from the man I left on the sidewalk outside of the club. But more than anything, I wanted to rip the buttons off his shirt and take him right there in the damn doorway. I wanted to feel what I missed out on the other night. Because I knew I truly missed out.

Never in my life had I had so many conflicted feelings revolving around one human being—one completely sexy, eye-fuckable human being.

But the smart girl in me wouldn’t allow it. The one I had spent months— years training, worked her way up, and pushed her way through the apartment doorway. She only stuck around for a short period of time, though.

What do you say when you’re at an absolute loss for words? When you’re there to interview a porn star or one who is coming out of retirement, finding out that you were extremely close to having sex with him? It was awkward. I felt dirty, violated, taken advantage of, hot, bothered, horny… Dammit. I stopped analyzing my thoughts and just spat out the first thing that came to mind…or the thing that hit my mind as soon as he opened the door. A thought that hasn’t left since.

“You almost let me have sex with a porn star,” I said once I finally sat my bags down and turned to face him. My breath hitched as the side of his mouth curved up into a hot smirk. Why the hell did smirks have to be so hot?

He eyed me as he rubbed his hand along his jawline and underneath where scruff had taken residence since I had last seen him. I wished it was my hand rubbing it instead. “You say that like it’s a bad thing?” he said with a mischievous grin.

“It is,” I stammered.

“You don’t sound too sure about that.” He stepped closer, crossing his arms against his firm chest. I silently cursed him and his gimmicks that frazzled my mind by using his hotness.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure what to think.” I sat down on the couch, feeling unsure about it all. Go figure, the first guy I slightly opened myself up to differently than the rest—literally—and was slightly of interested in, would be a porn star. It seemed like that was the kind of luck I’d been dealt.

“Maybe I can help you out.” He sat across from me in the black leather chair that matched the couch.

“You’ve already helped enough,” I snickered.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promised.

“I can imagine.” And I did for a quick second before shaking my dirty thoughts away. “I’m sure the case of DVD’s I was sent here with will further assist me.” I sat back then quickly leaned forward, needing to address something. “Let’s get something clear. Just because you get paid to have sex in your line of work, doesn’t mean I do.” I sat up straighter, feeling proud of myself. That was until he spoke with words that peeled that pride away.

“Who says we're on the clock?”

I rolled my eyes. I had to do something to keep myself from smiling.

“Well, this whole situation isn’t awkward at all.” I stood up and walked to where I had sat my bags. “Which room is mine?”

“Let me help you with those.” He rose quickly, but I gripped my handles tighter. I needed a minute alone to fully process the situation. Him being so close wasn’t helping my mind process anything but his scent and features. It wasn’t good. Or maybe it was good. Too good.

“I got it.” He pointed down the hall telling me it was the first door on the left. I thanked him as I made my way down, taking in the high vaulted ceilings of the more than spacious open floor plan as I passed by the stainless steel furnished kitchen. I opened the bedroom door, shut it and dropped my bags before plopping down on the queen-sized bed before me.

The next week was definitely going to be interesting. I was stuck in such a predicament. I was there to work, yet I was working with someone I’d been intimate with. It’d been days and I still couldn’t get him and that night out of my mind. Every time I allowed myself to close my eyes and remember each sensation as if I were still there, it ended with my hand between my legs, mimicking what he had done to me. My fingers did the trick, but they in no way compared to his. He’d definitely claimed the fingering award.

I was screwed. In more ways than one. I had hoped.

I rolled over, bending over the bed to grab my bag with the stuff I had brought from work. What the hell did the interview fully require? Why did I need to be here for a week? What all is expected from me?

To whom it may concern-

You have been picked to stay one week with a porn star—ex porn star—who is returning to the business. The purpose of this week is for you to get a glimpse of what the life of a porn star demands. Your job will be to follow him around as if you’re his personal shadow. You should sit in the background as if you’re not even there. This isn’t a time for you to become friends or make small talk. This interview isn’t for myself, the author, to gain knowledge into his life outside of his career choice. I’m specifically only concerned with the porn business this man has chosen to follow. I’m also interested in what goes on before jumping back into the business. The interview questions will answer the basic details I’m curious about. The point of you being there is for me to gain an insight into his daily routine. Does he exercise, meditate, take special vitamins, crazy diet, tan, wax his whole body, refrain from sex or have more for stamina purposes? Those are the things I’m interested in. His interests, family, life outside of work, aren’t a concern of mine. This book is simply about a fictional porn star. I don’t need a biography. My character will have his own
personal quirks. I don’t need to mimic his. Please be professional while you are on the job assignment. We were thankful enough that he even agreed to do this. If you have any concerns, or don’t think you can fully satisfy my request, make someone aware of this right away.

Sincerely,

P. Jennings New York Times Bestselling Author

Well, this should be fun. I had thought. I was pretty sure I had crossed a few lines that I was never to be near. But I wasn’t sure if those lines would keep me from doing the job to the best of my ability. Surely I’d be able to focus on the importance of my job over my tingling libido.

I groaned as I sat myself up and slowly walked over to my purse, grabbing my phone.

Four missed calls. I smiled seeing Reggie’s name with a three beside it. I knew she was chomping at the bit to know what was going on. If she only knew…she’d be driving over in a heartbeat. I cringed a tad as I saw my dad’s number next. I hadn’t talked to him in over a week. When I moved, we’d made a pact to talk at least every other week.

“WOW, SO DOES that mean you are closer to your dad more than your mom?” I see the look of shock that is seated in his features. He thought I was the typical female suffering from ‘Daddy Issues’ when in fact I had spent most of my life running from my ‘Mommy Issues.’

“Typical assumption,” I huff, and Shepard holds my gaze with his apologetic eyes, not needing to speak the sincerity aloud, I can see it. “The way I’ve went about everything has been ass backwards. But it’ll be explained later. No sense in telling it twice.” I lean up and take a drink of my water, glancing at the clock.

Close to twelve o’clock. I’ve been talking for almost three hours yet it feels like only minutes have passed. I begin to wonder, as I listen to the clock ticking, if I’ve been rattling off words in the same manner.

Three hours. One hundred-eighty minutes. Ten thousand-eight hundred seconds. Surely my words double that. I have a feeling I’m running laps around that clock and its two ticking black hands. Take that clock. You and your time increments hold nothing on me. My mind momentarily rambled.

I place my cup back on the desk, and then excuse myself for a quick bathroom break. I really do need to use it, but I had also promised Brent I’d call him to let him know how it was going. Which I do as I sit in one out of the three stalls—stalls that I’m so grateful I don’t have to use ever again after I walk out of here today. And if all goes according to plan, stalls that Shepard will never have to see again either. Well, the men’s room ones, anyway.

“Hey, Lu. How’s it going,” he says, answering his phone.

I sigh happily at his voice and the way he calls me Lu. One of the many things I really like about him. “It’s actually going well and a lot faster than I thought it would. Honestly, I feel so comfortable with Shepard that I’m able to say pretty much anything to him.”

“That’s good. I mean, that was the point right? To get it all out in the open. To fully tell the world your side of it all instead of what has only been shown.” He laughs, teasing me with those last words.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not even worried about what the world thinks now. More than anything, I saw this interview as beneficial. For Shepard just as much as me.” I play with the cross of my necklace, twisting it between my thumb and pointer finger. Then I let it go as I hear the door creaking open. “I’m going to let you go. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be here,” he replies before we both hang up.

I open the stall and make my way to the sink to wash my hands.

She would be in here. I should have known. I’m sure she’s been stalking me from afar since I air jizzed all over her face this morning; just waiting for a prime opportunity to corner me. Rachel stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter with a pissed off glare on her face.

“Hey, slut,” she says, her face not shifting its god-awful stare.

I scrunch my nose up at her as I raise my brows. She’s seriously mistaken if she thinks I’m going to take her shit now—now that I don’t fucking work here any longer.

“I learned from the best,” I sweetly smile, as I push down on the soap and turn the water on.

She lets out a ridiculous laugh. “Oh, is that all you got?” Rachel turns towards me. She’s so close I can’t stand it. I grab a few paper towels and turn my body in her direction and stare at the woman she’s allowed herself to become—one sore loser. I could tell her that, but what good would it do. I could tell her that the scum on my boot is more worthy of my attention than she is, but I don’t.

I toss my paper towels in the trash and then look her dead in the eyes. “Actually, I got everything. But when it comes to you, this is all I got.” A look of pure shock and a tiny ounce of fear crosses her face and I laugh inside, not willing to let my exterior show the humor I find in it. I stay silent as I walk past her, letting my shoulder nudge into hers as I do. She’s not worth the effort and she’s definitely not worth my breath of voicing my opinion to her. So I leave her with what she deserves…nothing.