Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 2

  I reach around her and place my finger on her clit, quickly rubbing up and down over it to bring her to a quick release. Her moaning becomes louder and verbally enhanced as she presses her ass against me to take me deeper, her pussy getting greedy for more. Entry becomes slicker as she comes again, lubricating my dick even more. It's slick, wet, and she's tightening around my cock. The tug in my balls starts. I pull out and remove the condom. "Turn around," I command.

  She does as I grab my dick in my hand, her hands immediately taking residence on her tits, pushing them toward the center. "Open for me," I demand, as I begin stroking my cock.

  Her mouth opens, watching me as I stroke myself to release. The warm semen starts to spurt from the head of my dick, landing in her mouth and around it, some on her chest. She holds her position until I'm done, before licking her lips and swallowing, then presses her fake tits toward her mouth as she brings her head down to meet them, licking what's coating her cleavage.

  I immediately pull my pants up my legs, shoving my cock back in its place. "Three weeks is all I can give. At that point not even your pussy can bail you out. You’re dismissed. I have work to do."

  "Cut." I look up as the director shouts the cue that filming has stopped...for now at least. He stands from his chair and begins walking on set as a crewmember hands Veronica a towel to rid her face of my cum. "That was good, but something is missing. I'm just not fucking sure what. Take thirty and we will film again with the addition. Got it?"

  I nod. "Alright, I'll be in my dressing room. Just let me know the changes."

  “You need me to send a fluffer in twenty to get you ready?”

  “Nope. Pills should have me covered for a few hours.”

  I walk past him, headed for some Listerine to wash my fucking mouth out. It's going to be a long night. I can see it already. By tomorrow I'll despise my cock and anything that most men crave shoving it into. This is only the beginning of what it takes to film porn...and to think some out there actually think it's easy. All it is, is fucking, right? A free-for-all pussy that you get paid to hit… Wrong. I wouldn't even know what normal fucking is anymore. A few more days and this project will be done. Then I get a short break before my agent offers me something else and it starts all over again. Fucking has never been so complicated...

  I prop up on my elbows as I look out at the Pacific Ocean from behind my shades. "This is the life, isn't it?"

  My head turns at the sound of Meredith's voice as she flips to lie face down on her beach towel in her bikini, her head facing toward me. I'm assuming her eyes are open behind her sunglasses. "It's different, that's for sure. We definitely aren't in Alabama anymore. Even after this long it's still kind of surreal."

  That night I left Meredith's house I went home and talked with my mom, asking one last time if she would consider letting me stay in the dorm, even at the junior college so that I can get the full college experience. I barely got the word dorm out of my mouth before she narrowed her eyes at me and sent me to my room, not even acknowledging my request.

  I laid in bed for hours, thinking and staring at the ceiling. I finally came to the conclusion that Meredith was right. I don't want the same things that my parents want. They should want to support my dreams and help me achieve them, not keep me away from living. They've sheltered me all of my life, protecting is what they call it, only it's been more like smothering. For me to not even be the preacher's kid you would think I was. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and I was blessed with a loving family, but after eighteen years it's time to release their hold on me. Some parents are all but shoving their kids out the door at eighteen. Even my brother got to go off to college where he wanted.

  It's not like I was asking for anything horrible. Geez, you would think I was begging for a boob job or something. I bet they would like that; food for thought. I just want to experience college like normal eighteen-year-olds. So what if I make a few mistakes. I may come home drunk or get heartbroken a few times. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about? To live with no regrets… You're supposed to reach adulthood with mistakes, with bad decisions, and with good.

  Then I got mad. My entire life I've been good. I wasn't allowed to even go out with boys until I was sixteen, when I started dating Kyle. Let’s face it, that’s not the end of the world. That’s just a difference in parents’ opinions. I respected it, but even then my dad was a psycho about it, always watching and calling and making sure he knew where I was, making me come home at nine until I was a senior, and then so graciously bumped me up to ten. I remember his exact words were, nothing good happens after ten o'clock p.m., yet I never questioned him, came home late, or pushed his limits, and I still got treated like I child.

  So I'm done. If he wants to treat me like a bad kid, I’ll give him a reason to do so.

  I waited till they went to sleep, got up and packed as much of my stuff that would fit in my luggage set and was capable of carrying myself without waking them up, and snuck out of my window, leaving a note on my pillow. It was the only way out without tripping the alarm since I cut the wire last year when Meredith talked me into it. It was her scheme to get me to a party since we live next door to each other. I never was brave enough to sneak out, though, but my parents never even noticed that I did it.

  I'm just glad that my parents don't have a two-story house, because escape was fairly easy. I waddled my petite frame loaded down with two duffle bags and a large rolling suitcase across my lawn to Meredith's black Honda Accord promptly at 4AM and chucked them in the backseat. I've never seen her cheese so big as when she pushed off of her car to give me a hand.

  That was two months ago...

  Shortly after we arrived in Los Angeles my parents disconnected my phone. They didn't even call me to see if I arrived safely. I could have died in a car crash and I guess they wouldn't have cared. I waited two weeks for them to call, thinking they would be worried and cut it back on, but they didn't. They act like they no longer have a daughter, all because I wanted to find out who exactly I’m meant to be.

  I won't lie. It stung. I cried for a while, refusing to leave the apartment and only spending my graduation money on food. Then one Friday it clicked. If my parents want to act childish and not think about my feelings, then two can play that game. I'm going to live for me. I'm going to do what I want to do. My parents' morals can kiss my ass. I finally said screw them. I can make it just fine on my own.

  That night was the first time I ever set foot in a nightclub. I had never seen anything like it. The music, the lights, and the carefree environment hooked me, even without being able to legally drink; although it really wasn’t that hard to get some. Every time I turned around some guy offered to buy me one. The next day I went back and applied for a job, and to my surprise, after a few days the manager called me for an interview; my first one ever.

  I've been working there ever since.

  "Are you starting to regret coming with me?"

  Her face remains serious, but I know she's baiting me. I smile. "Heck no. Are you going to come out tonight? I work till close."

  "I will if you come to an open audition like you keep saying you will." She rolls over and props up to mirror my position.

  I look back out at the water, glancing around at the bodies occupying the beach. My eyes pinpoint on a surfer as he stands on the board and balances himself at the perfect moment that the wave falls. I'll never get tired of this place. "I don't know, Meredith. I'm kind of shy. You're the outgoing one. I would probably freeze and forget my lines. Then I would look like an idiot and be embarrassed."

  "That may have worked two months ago, and I've let it go till now. You work at one of the hottest night clubs in LA and you have come out of your shell more in the last two months than I've seen you your entire life. We've always been the blonde besties. You're gorgeous, Kambry. It's time you started seeing yourself in the mirror like everyone else has always seen you. You're hot, girl. What are you so afraid of?"

  She turns on
her side and raises her glasses on top of her head, a mischievous grin spreading. "I'll make a deal with you. We're going to play a little game: How to lose a guy in ten days style with a spin. You, Blondie, are going to play Kate Hudson's role. Tonight, I'm picking out one guy of my choice in the club. You have no say in the matter. I know your taste, so he'll be cute. When I point him out to you, you have to go introduce yourself, serve up some drinks, and maybe start some small talk. Celebrity or not you're going to flirt, Meredith's way, which is shamelessly, and then turn and walk away. If he comes to find you, you have to give him a chance for more...like an extended night into the wee hours of the morning. If he tries to hook up and you're genuinely into him but don't go through with it out of fear, then you have to come to the next open audition with me, no questions asked."

  "You're suggesting I hook up with someone I don't even know? Isn't that kind of slutty?"

  "This is LA, baby. We can do whatever we want here. We can be free. Are you scared Daddy dearest will find out?" With a smirk on her face she pulls her shades back into place and rolls back onto her back, before tilting her head back to get some sun.

  She knows that's my trigger. "As much as I love you, sometimes you're a bitch. How have I put up with you all of these years?"

  "Because you want to be just like me. You just need a little push in the right direction. You'll thank me later."

  "Fine. What are you going to be doing while all of this is going on?"

  "I, love, am going to find the nearest hot bartender or bouncer and sweet talk my way into getting a wrist band, and maybe even a bedmate, since someone won't liven up and make some hot friends over twenty-one already. Must I do everything? We need connections, Kambry. Use your job for your benefit, for ours."

  "You're doing my makeup then. I'm taking full advantage of all those hours you've put in working at Sephora. I'm glad they ended up letting you transfer. More free stuff for me." I grin in a sarcastic manner, and then become serious again. "You blame antisocialism on me, but it's not that easy to liven up when you're working and completely sober just like the other members of staff and everyone else in the club is drunk. It complicates things, and by the time it's closing most of us just want to go home and crash. I have to deal with guys trying to grope my ass all night."

  She ignores my rambling as her face rises to the sight in front of her, as if she can smell the salty water mixed with man sweat from the heat. "Hello, gorgeous," she says, now totally oblivious to any prior conversation we were having. "I will never tire of looking at California boys." She's officially gone, her head now reeling in some fantasy that has a possibility of coming true depending on her mood.

  I really envy her most days. I want to be that bold, and I could be, if I could just figure out how to break the ice. I mean, how does an eighteen, almost nineteen-year-old virgin go about ridding of her V-card when it's not my fault I'm even still hanging on to it. I've thought of just pretending it doesn't exist, but I fear that my lack of experience would give me away. Best friends have to be good for something, right?

  I stand, quickly gathering my things. "Where are you going? We still have hours before you have to be at work. You cannot tell me you're done beaching it already. We pretty much just got here."

  "If I'm going to have a chance in hell at winning this bet tonight I need all the prep time I can get. I've hooked up - okay made out, and maybe some heavy petting - with Kyle, and on several occasions, but I've gotten so good at pressing the stop button before sex that it's become a reflex. I need a tips and tricks session with Mer."

  Her face takes on a star-struck expression and she stands so fast I'm surprised she didn't trip over herself before she’s able to pick up her things. "I've never been so excited to help de-virginize someone. It's time my precious flower. It's time."

  "Wow. You just took this to a whole new level of weird."

  She laughs. "Shut up, asshole."

  I watch as she reaches down for a handful of sand and I take off running through the maze of people before she can toss it at me. Work should be interesting tonight. In this strange, unexplainable way, I'm excited more than nervous. Maybe I do just need a push... Finally!

  ***

  "I'm so jealous of your rack," she screams over the music while grabbing her drink off the bar, and then winks at Liam, the bartender, laying cash down for him to pick up. "How the hell do you get blessed with size D perky cups and a tiny waistline when you don't even use them? The universe is cruel sometimes. I'm getting a boob job. I swear it. That dress looks so much better on you. Keep it."

  I look down at the short, tight, black dress that has a cutout pattern surrounding the very low-cut V neckline that twists with the bottom piece of fabric between my boobs, enhancing the visibility of my cleavage, as I wait on Liam to fill my drink order. I have always had a rather large bust size and a small waistline, very small, as in a size zero to two depending on the brand. That’s why people at school have referred to me as a human Barbie since puberty. It's not the most common body frame, I'm aware, but my mother is a heavier set woman with a large bust as well and my dad used to be scrawny until middle age set in, so I guess I lucked out with the best qualities of the two. That could be one reason they never let me out of their sight. My body type has always made me look older than I am, drawing male attention, and topped off with the platinum blonde hair, well, you get the point. That term, Barbie, actually makes me cringe.

  I glance at the neon wristband on her left arm only given to those twenty-one and up. I'm not sure how she got rid of the stamps that mark her age, but she's always been a partier, so I'm sure she has tricks most would never consider. Meredith was the flamboyant one in high school. Her parents aren't that strict, so she barely had to give any details at all on her whereabouts to her parents once we started driving. She's been sneaking into clubs with fake IDs since we were only sixteen. She's lied about one magical question so many times to guys I'm surprised she even remembers her real age anymore. The number of guys that have committed statutory rape without even being aware is mind blowing. "I take it you successfully seduced a member of staff into looking the other way while he upped your age a few years?"

  She places the straw between her lips and sips. "I'll reward him later. No need to wait for me when you leave." She winks and then extends the drink to me. "Want some?"

  "No. I can't get caught drinking. I'll lose my job. You need to be careful. There is an occasional undercover cop in here trying to catch underage drinking."

  She takes another sip and wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me to her. She kisses my temple. "No worries, love. My new ID will be in next week. This one is legit, with my face, state watermark, and all. I'm paying out the ass for it. Plus, it’s all about confidence, boo. It can make you or break you."

  "Kambry, your order is done," Liam says, interrupting us.

  I turn to look at him and pick up my tray. "Thanks, Liam."

  I've been assigned to Liam all night to fill my drink orders. The manager likes doing it that way. Makes it easier to split tips at the end of the night. I pick it up and get the weight of the tray balanced on my arm so that I can walk in my heels without spilling any drinks or toppling over. "I've got to deliver these. I'll be back after I circulate."

  She places her clutch under her arm and continues to nurse her fruity concoction. "You do that, gorgeous. I'm about to scout myself. I have a man to pick out for you. You better bring your A-game."

  I roll my eyes. "Please don't be mean. Make it a cute one. Karma is real."

  "Oh, doll face, I would never pick out an ugly man. You just leave that to me. I have to give you some competition. Leaving."

  We split in different directions and I make my way around my assigned section of the club, delivering the orders and collecting tips. With each new person I approach, I put on my best flirty smile as I introduce myself and ask if there is anything they want, occasionally running my fingers through my long, blonde, curled hair as I write down t
he order on my pad.

  I notice the manager wave me over to the wall he's standing at, watching the club to ensure things run smoothly but out of direct sight. I tuck my now empty tray to my side and make my way toward him close enough I can hear and speak. "Yes sir?"

  “First of all, don’t call me fucking sir. Understood?”

  I nod, nervously. “Sorry. It’s a southern thing I guess.”

  Drake is about thirty-five, pretty hot, and cool as shit. He makes working here fun. Word is, among the other female drink servers, that if he likes you, you go far. If not, you won't last long. I'm still in my ninety-day trial period since I was hired. This is a popular club, and high-end celebrities utilize the VIP section because they can come here unbothered. Only the top servers get to work that section, and they each sign a confidentiality waiver prior to doing so. From what I've seen, those girls have the arrogance to go along with that job title. It intimidates me to be honest. I would probably stand there and gawk if I saw someone famous. I'm fine to stay away from there and remain with the normal people.

  His eyes swipe down my body for the first time tonight, since I haven't seen him until now. "Good choice. You're blossoming beautifully since you first started. You ready to earn your stripes?"

  I blink as I stare at him like an idiot. "I'll do anything you need. What's up?"

  "Amanda had to leave suddenly and unexpected, throwing up, so she must have a virus or something. I can't have customers catching something at my club. Can you take her spot? I have a small section reserved that should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes or so."