Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 8

  "Why exactly are you here, Mr. Prescott?"

  "I'm here about a client, and a possible job opportunity...Kambry, or do you prefer to be called something else?"

  "My name is Kambry Rivers, but Kambry is fine."

  "Okay, Kambry. I'm here because of Mr. Maverick, in whom I know you’ve had the pleasure in meeting. I'm going to ask you first to excuse me, because this is completely unorthodox of the way business is usually ran, but I'm trying to adjust."

  "Who?"

  "Saxton Maverick, the guy that was with me last week. You two did meet a little more intimately, did you not?"

  My eyes widen, suddenly remembering what exactly intimately means, even if he doesn't; at least I hope he doesn’t. I let a guy go down on me and I didn't even know his last name. My cheeks are probably turning red. I can feel them heating. "Something of that nature."

  "Well, I'm here at his request, and completely against my better judgment, but I've worked with him before so I'm taking a risk. What exactly do you know of Mr. Maverick? I'm assuming you know he's in films."

  He opens the folder and looks at me. I am starting to get embarrassed by my lack of information on Saxton, especially given the nature of that hangout session and the amount of thoughts that have occurred since then. "I kind of got that vibe based on some things he said, but he didn't really clarify."

  His lips purse as he stares at me. "How about we just start from scratch. That may be easier. Then you can give me your thoughts. Does that work for you?"

  "Okay..."

  "This is going to be long-winded, so bear with me. You can ask questions once I'm done."

  "Okay."

  "First of all I'm a producer for a film company. I have several roles but I basically oversee the whole process, and some of that has to do with casting. Saxton is an actor, and a pretty popular one in this industry at that. He's currently one of our highest sellers. More people are starting to want him. He's established, meaning he usually gets most jobs between his agent and the companies that want him in their films. He doesn’t really have to chase after them anymore."

  That's funny, because I've never heard of a Saxton Maverick...

  "That's also another reason why this is abnormal. If we don't use an established male, or in this situation, girl that we already know we want to pursue, or one that doesn't have an agent readily finding open roles for scheduled auditions with the panel, we have open casting for people to audition, usually free agents that have yet to find an agent to represent them."

  He pauses. "Is this making sense?"

  "Yes. I'm listening."

  "The meeting with Saxton last week was to offer him the role for a project that begins filming soon. It's a reality TV segment that we're giving a trial run by filming for a few weeks and then premiering to the public to see what the response will be, and then based on the numbers we will decide if we want to extend the project to the full six months of filming that is currently being discussed."

  When he pauses I take the opportunity to ask a question. "What kind of reality TV segment?"

  "Roommates. It's a male and female living in the same house, but a couple that has chemistry since it will only be two of you."

  "Kind of like Jersey Shore, The Real World, or that Party Down South show? I used to watch those shows. They look fun, but why did you want to meet with me? I'm not an actor. Wait, isn’t there a process for choosing those people since it’s reality TV?"

  "Exactly, just subtract the rest of the roommates. The rest will be pretty much identical with a few exceptions, and yes you’re right, but because of the exceptions it limits the choices in open casting for reality television. They want Saxton to bring in numbers, but because we are coming to him it gives him room to make requests, and his request is you."

  My stomach flips. "He wants me to live in a house with him...on camera? I don't know... I'm not really camera friendly. I’m a little bit of an introvert. I doubt there would be anything interesting to watch. I don't really have that star personality."

  My nerves start twisting and turning, firing off like fireworks. I tend to be shy around people I don't know for a while. After I get comfortable I won't shut up, but for a while I'm reserved, feeling the new person out to see if our personalities click. Meredith tells me all the time that guys don't approach me at bars and clubs because I have a resting bitch face. I just roll my eyes, because who in the hell wants to wear a smile all the time? I can be perfectly happy without having to permanently think of what my facial expressions look like.

  My mind recalls some of the conversation with Saxton. If I don't do this, I don't get to hang out with him? That thought immediately sours my mood. Why have I never heard of him before? That puzzles me. If he were really this big shot actor that gets to make demands with producers surely his name would at least be familiar.

  "What are the exceptions?" I blurt out the question before he even has time to answer my previous response. I'm not even sure what made me ask it to begin with.

  "Cameras never stop rolling, not even during sex." My eyes widen. "It's an adult film series basically. It will only air on specific channels that allow porn, readily available for consumer purchase with the click of their remotes."

  I stand, my chair rolling backward from my sudden change in position. "Saxton is a porn star! Please tell me I'm hearing you wrong. I have to have heard you wrong."

  "He is an adult film star, yes. Terminology is up to the user."

  My eyes well up; trying their damnedest to spill over the tears. I feel so stupid. I will not let them. This is so embarrassing. That is disgusting. I let someone that has probably screwed hundreds of women touch me, kiss me, and almost fuck me. What if he has some kind of disease? I didn't even ask any questions. I almost gave my virginity to someone that has sex as a career. Don't get me wrong. I didn't want love and cuddles in exchange, but I wanted some form of normalcy. I wanted respect. He expects me to lose my virginity in front of the world? Aren't most guys jealous in some form of someone else experiencing what they're experiencing? He wants every damn pervert out there to see my body...to imagine screwing me instead of him or vice versa?

  I back up toward the door and he stands. "I'm sorry. I can't do that. I just can't. I'm sorry."

  I bump into the door and my ankle twists from my balance shifting. I quickly recover, trying to fumble for the knob. He grabs the folder off the table and makes his way toward me. "Kambry, wait. Just give me five more minutes."

  "You have one." I feel sick to my stomach. The thought of someone wanting me to be a porn star upsets me.

  He hands the folder out toward me. "Just take this and look the contents over. It has a copy of the contract in it and everything else you need to know, including my business card. I know you're surprised. Saxton told me you're a virgin. For your age that's impressive, and I'm not even sure of exact. As long as you're a legal adult that's all that matters, and judging from your job I'm going to say you are." His mouth lines. I feel betrayed. That was personal information that I told one person. I assumed common courtesy would keep it between him and me, not start a domino effect. "Look, I'm not going to bad mouth the industry. I work in it. I also know the stereotypes that most people associate with it, and I assure you ninety-eight percent of them are false. Just keep an open mind before you decide, because there are things in this contract that may actually surprise you. They surprised me...and I've seen it all. He isn't doing this project if you don't, so keep in mind that we are at a standstill if you decline the offer, as we will be looking for two new people instead of one."

  I yank the folder out of his hand, aggravated that he is now trying to guilt trip me. I'm not even sure how I ended up here. "I wouldn't expect my call. That would take a miracle."

  I move to the side and open the door. "Have yourself a good night, Mr. Prescott."

  Without any further words I open the door and walk out, suddenly in dire need of a shower and sleep. I'll text Drake that I had to go home. It's close enou
gh to close it shouldn't matter. I'll just have to live short of the tips I would have earned otherwise. I think I'm in need of alcohol myself. I really hope Meredith came through like she said she would.

  The bad part is... I'm still thinking about him, and that night, as if none of the information I just received is sticking, and that's a terrifying thing.

  ***

  I walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my damp body, and into my room. I'm not sure where Meredith is. My guess is she stayed over with some guy after leaving the bar. I'm sure she'll come stumbling in doing the walk of shame around sunrise.

  I sit on my mattresses and comb through my wet hair with my fingertips as I let my body finish drying. It drives me nuts to get dressed still damp. Something about my clothes clinging to my body makes me feel claustrophobic. Plus, the air is still cooling down the apartment from us being gone and turning it up to conserve power. California heat may be different than Alabama heat, but it's still hot nonetheless. It's still summer.

  My MacBook charging in the corner captures my attention. It was my graduation present. I would say it was a form of freedom finally from my parents, but it wasn't. It was only for school and research purposes, so I took it when I left. A gift is a gift and it's mine.

  According to my parents, things like social media are a failure of society, and only contributes to rises in sex trafficking and kidnapping of children, among other evils in the world. I wasn't to be caught with any of the above under their roof. I still haven't remembered to venture there. I guess old habits, or restrictions, die hard.

  I stand and walk toward it, before picking it up and pulling the charger from the port, carrying it back to my mattresses to lay down. I place it on the mattress and fall down on my stomach, raising the lower part of my legs into the air, and swinging them back and forth in opposing directions as I open my laptop.

  The screen instantly lights up, bringing up my login screen. I quickly type in my password and the selfie photo of Meredith and I the first day we put our toes in the Pacific Ocean appears on the home screen. I stare at it for a moment, trying to remember why in the hell I got my laptop in the first place. Maybe I should just Google you...

  Without further thought my finger swipes across the Trackpad, moving the cursor to the Safari icon and I double tap to open it. My default search engine appears: Google. I place my fingers in position over the keyboard and begin typing in the letters without giving them any instruction on what to type: Saxton Maverick.

  My hand starts to shake as I hover over the search button. "Why are you freaking out, Kambry? Put your big girl panties on and just do it."

  I click the button, waiting as it quickly searches the web for that specific key phrase. My eyes widen as the list of clickable links start appearing.

  Possible new secret XXX project starring Saxton Maverick. Who to costar? Details to be released.

  Saxton "The horseman" Maverick in XXX film featuring sorority girls.

  Saxton Maverick, the rising porn star, in college escapades part II.

  Title by title I read the article headers, my eyes widening with each one. I'm scared to click on one, afraid of what I'll find. Instead, I click on the images option instead of web. At least this way I can get a preview of what may lie within the links.

  The thumbnails start to appear quickly. My heart starts to race, my cheeks heating. My breathing becomes uneven. "Shit," I whisper. "Is that his dick? No wonder he turned around when he took his boxer briefs off to pull his jeans on that night at the pool. What have I gotten myself into?"

  Various photos appear. Some of him fully clothed at what appears to be premiers, some candid shots probably from paparazzi, and some of...him completely fucking naked with a woman, not all the same. There are hundreds of photos...hundreds, thousands of webpages in the hit. A sudden feeling overcomes me; one I don't understand. I hate those girls; the girls that are with him like I was with him. I despise that they're feeling him inside of them, yet I didn't. It angers me to see him touching them, and they him, experiencing him in a way that I've experienced him, but more. What's wrong with me? Why didn't he want more with me?

  Even though I don't want to I keep scrolling, mindlessly taking in each one. One catches my attention. He's standing on the side of a bed, holding a girl by her hips, with his waist shoved between her legs. She's blonde, lying on the bed with her back arched, her chin turned up toward the ceiling, and her eyes closed. At brief glance she has similarities like me. Her hands are clenched in the sheets, her legs bent and pressed against her body, her toes curled. She looks completely mesmerized by the feeling, but that's not really what captivated my attention.

  He's what captured it. The way he's looking away from her. I know he's probably looking at the camera, but it looks like he's looking at...me. Gosh, he's beautiful, all of him, reminding me of the way he looked between my legs, his tongue flush against my body, looking up at me while he made me feel good.

  A surge of wetness occurs between my legs - a rise in hormones being the cause. My bottom lip pulls between my teeth as I remember that night. My eyes close. Instead of that blonde being another woman, it's me. He's fucking me...not her.

  I roll over onto my back, one hand pulling my towel open. I grab my breast in my hand, my nipple already hard. I begin to knead it, pulling my nipple between my fingers. My legs pull into the same position hers just were as my free hand travels down my body, over my navel, to my clit. My hand runs across it, toward my entrance. I rub my fingertip in a circle over it, coating it in my wetness, before slipping inside. I moan, pretending it's him, just like when he did it.

  I pull my finger out and run it between my lips, until it settles on my clit. The pressure instantly causes my back to arch. My legs spread wider, opening my lips up a little more. I whirl my fingers in a circle, spreading the wetness thoroughly over my clit, making it feel that much better, making it resemble his tongue.

  As if it were just an hour ago that night plays back in my mind vividly. The grasp on my breast gets harder, the pinch around my nipple tighter. My moans become more pronounced as my fingers pick up in speed, rubbing up and down over my clit. "Just like that, Saxton. Right there." I moan. "Don't stop. I can feel it. I'm close."

  My muscles contract, squeezing tightly even though there is a void. My clit starts to sensitize the faster I rub. One look into those eyes as his tongue rubs my clit and my orgasm starts, consuming my world, my mind. "Damn," I whisper, as my toes curl under and every sensation changes pace, now in slow motion. When I become too sensitive to withstand my touch any longer I stop, removing my hand.

  My feet lower back down to the bed. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, before rolling back over, screaming and slamming my laptop closed as I do. "That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever watched, and I'm a porn star. I've seen everything. You just masturbated to mental images of me."

  Saxton is standing in my doorway with his arms above his head, no smile present, and gripping the doorframe. His arm muscles are flexed, his head and torso leaning forward. His eyes glance at my computer and back at me. "What images, Kambry?"

  I. Am. Mortified.

  "What are you doing in my apartment, Saxton? This is breaking and entering, not to mention creepy as hell. How did you even get in?"

  He ignores my question completely.

  "Just so you know...this is me refraining. I swear on my fucking life it is. I want to give in. Right now I want to fuck your brains out, hard, making your pussy so sore you can't sit down for hours, days. This is me telling my dick no."

  My eyes lower, taking in the massive bulge in his khaki shorts, because obviously holding it drunk just didn’t have the same effects. That photo now makes so much sense. Those comments he made...agreed...but I still want it inside me. I don't care how much it hurts. "Why are you in my apartment, Saxton?"

  His jaw is locked together. I can tell by the flexed jaw muscles. He's staring at me, as I lay on my mattresses completely nude, behind my c
losed computer. "Michael called."

  "And?"

  "He told me about your freak out. You ran. Why did you run?"

  "He had just told me you are a porn star and that he wants me to be in a porno. What would anyone else have done?"

  "I thought you wanted this. From the looks of it you still do," he says in a clipped tone.

  "Don't be an asshole to me. You barely know me. Do not make me feel guilty over this. I've never been with anyone. You've been with probably hundreds of girls. Don't you dare come at me. I have a right to be upset."

  "So it bothers you?"

  "What?"

  "The fact that I've fucked numerous women. It's not the film part, but the number, isn't it?"

  I open my mouth, and then close it. I choose not to answer. "Fuck it."

  He walks forward, toward me. My breathing hitches when he gets close. He grabs my computer and places it on the floor out of the way, then comes to stand in front of the mattress. I watch him the whole way, never moving. He reaches down and grabs me by the arm, pulling me up to stand on my knees. I do, but don't look up at him. He grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it toward him. "Yet despite that you still want me, don't you?"

  I lightly nod my head, ashamed. I shouldn't want my first time to be with someone that's been with so many, but I do. Even worse, I hate that he knows it. Something about his occasional arrogance turns me on more. "Then what's the problem?"

  "Why on film? Why can't we just do it here?"

  "Because this is part of who I am. I chose this life a long time ago. Maybe if you agree, I'll tell you why. Are you afraid?"

  "Shouldn't I be?"

  "What are you afraid of?"

  "Everything. Everyone. Why do you want to share me with the world? I'm not like those girls."

  "That's exactly why I want you; because you're not those girls. I want to know you. This is how I can do that. Who gives a fuck about everyone else? Be original. Be you. Haters will always hate no matter what you do, so do what you want. Did you even read the contract?"