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I cried on and off for at least five days in a row. Fortunately, Johnny was in LA, and would be for five more days. It was his apartment.
When I finally pulled my shit together and confronted big-dick Johnny on this mega matter, he had the audacity, the nerve, the arrogance to tell me how these women didn't mean anything to him so therefore, he wasn't cheating. It was merely porn sex. He and his friends put these videos together through an agency. It was his side hustle for extra cash. Like me, Johnny was a musician. I played the violin, or at least I used to before I became disillusioned with ever making a living with that ability. Thus, college for a more practical earning source. He played backup guitar for various bands. I thought he made a nice living doing this. Apparently, I was wrong.
He told me his porn videos meant nothing. He was acting. None of it meant anything.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I asked the porn cheater, while thoughts of socking him in the nose swirled in my head.
“Because I knew you’d overreact. Just like you are right now,” he argued, sounding so damn reasonable that for a moment, a brief tick in time, I thought perhaps maybe I was, in fact, overreacting.
Which, as a rule, I kind of always did whenever something hit me out of the blue and pushed me off course. But, even so, what he’d done was wrong, and there was no way I could ever even think of continuing any sort of relationship with my cheating, big-dick, porn-star boyfriend.
“Look,” he said, trying his best to reason with me, when we both knew there was no reasoning out of this. “The first time it happened, I didn’t know there was a camera on me. This was before you and I started dating, so don’t go ballistic. There was a hidden camera, and at first, I wanted nothing to do with any of it, but after I watched the video a couple more times and was offered a good amount of money for more of the same, well, I decided I look pretty damn good on camera, and my dick…”
“Never mind your dick. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. You know what… I don’t want to hear anything from you ever again.”
Fortunately, as I was telling him to go fuck himself, and to take his never-ending arrogance with him, I was in my car at the time, parked behind Dirty Coyote, a country music dance hall here in Sweet Whiskey, California. It was a brisk mid-January night in Northern California, and while I was busy yelling at my oh so ex-boyfriend, I was trying to stay warm with the car heater blasting. At least all my yelling and steering wheel punching couldn’t be seen by anyone who might think I had lost it… which I had.
As if my life couldn’t get more bizarre, after I hung up on him, told him to eat glass and die, he called me back and wanted to know if I wanted to join him making couples porn. He knew how strapped I was for cash these days, and it might help.
At that moment, I called him a fucking loser, told him I didn’t need that kind of money, disconnected, and blocked his phone number.
Call me old fashioned, but occasionally watching porn was one thing…. Making porn for any reason wasn’t something I wanted to pursue.
One minor detail in all this self-adoration… Now that I had successfully ended the
relationship, I had nowhere to go. I was relatively new to Sweet Whiskey, so I had no friends to speak of, and other than taking up temporary residency at a local motel, I had just made myself homeless.
Which led me to the next crazier-than-shit move.
Having sex with Austin Sentry backstage in the band waiting room, up against the closed door.
How that happened exactly, I couldn’t be sure. We’d come back here to find a quiet spot where we could talk about his need for a temporary nanny for his daughter, which I’d volunteered to do, for a salary, of course. We’d agreed on a few terms, and before I could assimilate all the details of this new endeavor, his lips were on mine, and our tongues were doing some dirty dancing that caused me to wrap one of my legs around one of his.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mixed-up mind, I decided that I had to be more spontaneous with sex and not be so hung up on only having sex with someone I cared about.
Maybe it was revenge sex, I didn’t know, but at least there were no cameras… or were there? After all, I had no idea what kind of kink this country music star was into. I mean, security cameras could be everywhere backstage.
All I could think of was what Johnny had said about being caught on a hidden camera. I wanted to let it go, I truly did, but the concept of a camera niggled at the back of my brain.
I couldn’t stop myself. I had to ask.
“Um, there’s no cameras in this room, are there?” I asked as he ran kisses down my neck, while he kneaded my exposed breast. I’d been blessed with large breasts that seemed to drive some guys crazy. Apparently, Austin was one of them. The sensations clouded my brain, but not enough that the idea of a hidden camera still vexed me.
“Not that I know of,” he whispered as he continued his quest to drive me wild. “I don’t think any of the bands that play here would like an intrusion of a camera, security, or otherwise. We’re probably safe back here.”
I gazed around the room, looking for any indication of prying electronic equipment. Perhaps behind the mirror at the dressing table, or up in a corner, hidden by the wooden trim? I knew a camera could be so small, we couldn’t see it unless we knew it was there. “You’ve spent time in this room, right? You would know if there was a hidden camera?”
He found my hard, round nipple, and proceeded to tug on it, then he circled it with his tongue, which drove me crazy, causing tiny shivers to race over my body to my core. His mouth felt warm and delicious against my skin. I could tell the man was an expert lover and knew how to drive a woman wild. After the draught I’d had, going wild from sex wouldn’t take much.
But besides all of that, I was genuinely attracted to this amazingly talented man and had been for quite some time, so this moment was like a fantasy come true.
Still, I wouldn’t let my emotions take hold. This was just sex. Either way, I didn’t want it to be caught on a camera. Not when I’d made such a stink to Johnny about being on camera.
“I don’t spend much time back here. Once I know there’s been a sound check, I tend to arrive right before we have to be onstage. Still, I don’t think you have to worry,” he said, then finished unbuttoning my silky pink shirt so both my breasts were exposed. I’d worn a bra that latched in the front, a sparkly white, lacy bra. One of my favorites.
“Then how do you know there’s not a hidden camera on us right now?” I managed to ask, despite the incredible heat that now ravaged my body.
I couldn’t help it. All I could think of was Johnny porn star. My mind was a twisted mess of opposing desires and fears.
