Page 5 of Three, Two, One [321]

But it comes with a price. Three vids a week is one of them. That’s three girls you gotta have set up and ready to go to work each week. They do it a few times, most of them. And then they’re out. Either onto bigger things—porn is everywhere. Why stay loyal to us?—or we find out they can’t pass the STD testing. Or they have a drug habit, that’s an automatic, Get out of here. Or whatever. But they never stay long. So this week, man, we are fucked. Good and royal. Because we are two videos short.

But now JD has this girl in his sights and we’re taking her back to our place. There’s no way we’re doing a movie. She’s got no contract, no test, and no ID because from the looks of it, she’s got a dress and some panties to her name and that’s about it.

Panties I’m staring at right now. Her ass bounces along JD’s back as he jogs through the rain and my dick grows a little as I imagine what that might feel like. Both for her and for him.

Dammit. This is not going to work. She’s good for some gifs on my Tumblr blog, but not a whole lot else.

JD runs faster, making the girl give off a little squeal of surprise.

I walk. Fuck that shit. They round a corner and disappear. My jaw is clenching hard and the anger inside me is building as I think of all the ways JD just refused to take the hint. And why? To meet our quota? We’re too far behind this week. Even if she was legit, and she’s not, this one girl sucking his dick is not enough to keep the boss happy. We need her, plus one more, to break even. And one more to stash away for when the Public Fuck America site launches on Christmas Day.

We have been making four videos a week for four years—three for our boss, Ray, and one for us. That’s two hundred extra porn videos, give or take, which is just barely enough to launch the site and start our own aggregation business where we have other dudes do the legwork. And even though this is the whole point of the last four years, I’m stressed, man. I’m stressed bad. I do not need this girl complicating things this week. Especially when JD refuses to acknowledge that she was mine first. That shit just pisses me off.

But fuck it. Fuck her too. He can have her. I saw some bruising on her arms and she looks strung out. Beyond the fact that she’s half naked and sobbing, I mean. She looks like she just came down from some goodass shit.

And that’s something we do not fuck with. No druggies. They steal, they lie, and they don’t eat enough to make them curvy.

By the time I round the corner JD and the girl are gone. Already inside, I suppose. I walk a little faster. I don’t want him to get her home with too much lag time. Fucker.

We own the top floor of a building on California Street. When we bought that place with cash, the shit got real.

We are fucking rich.

I press the button on my electronic key and open the thick wooden door to find JD and the girl sitting on the steps. She’s in his lap and he’s kissing her.

“What the fuck?”

JD laughs. “I was waiting on you, dude. Ready?” He stands up, the girl sliding down his legs as he does it, then grabs her by the hand and pulls her to the elevator. She stumbles after him, dead on her feet. She probably won’t make it through a shooting. What a waste.

We get in the elevator and I press the top floor, because JD’s hands are all over this girl. Pressing up against her breasts and sliding around her neck as he continues to kiss her.

I shake my head as the doors open and head across the hall to the only loft up here. Ours. The penthouse.

When I open the door, I let JD go first. He walks the girl backwards, still kissing her like his life depends on it.

“Wait,” she whispers against his lips. “Wait, what are we doing?”

“Taking some pictures, darling. Remember?” He knows she’s stoned from the night before too. “You still got your money?” She looks down at her clenched fist filled with twenty-dollar bills. “Good, baby. Don’t let go of it, OK? It’s yours. And we’re gonna give you more. Just let me take care of things so Ark can get the photos, and then you can have the rest. OK?” He kisses her and then turns back to me. “Where do you want us?”

We are all sopping wet so I point to the terrace. JD kisses her one more time to stop the whimpering protests, and then walks her backwards a few more paces before twirling her around and pointing her to the terrace doors. He slides them open and drags her through.

“Up against the glass,” I call out when he looks back at me. “You two, leaning up against the glass so I can get a good view of the city in the rain. I’ll set the camera up in here with a long lens.”

By the time I get it set up on the tripod JD is ready to tear her clothes off. What the fuck has gotten into him? He’s never like this with the girls. He can take or leave most of them, and most of them are cute. But this one, she looks homeless. She’s skinny. She’s dripping wet, and not only because he’s fingering her pussy through her panties. Her lips are practically blue, she’s so cold. And yet he acts like this girl is the love of his life.

I don’t get it.

“Leave her clothes on,” I call out to him.

“What?” he laughs, looking over his shoulder at me.

“Leave her clothes on. I want her in the wet dress. I’m the photographer and I say leave her fucking clothes on.”

He draws in a long breath and stares at me for a moment. “OK, dude. Whatever you want.”

Fucking prick. I’m not sure why, but the thought of JD taking off that dress and palming her bare breasts just pisses me off. “Turn to the side,” I call again. The rain is coming down good and hard now and I zoom in on their lips. The water trickles over the curve they make as they press together. His tongue. Her tongue. Lick. It swipes over her top lip to catch the rain running down her nose in a stream. Her eyelashes are clumped together and the makeup from last night has left dark gray streaks down her face.

Her head turns into the light—not a ray of sunshine exactly, but some play of light from somewhere unknown to me—and her eyes sparkle. They are blue, but they are not just any blue. They are like the ocean water in the tropics.