There Must Be Brighter Lights

 

At Your Service

 

"A girl saw my asshole today."

Daz hurriedly spits his coffee back into the mug, laughing. "Oh you cheeky thing. I didn't think you swung that way."

I shake my head. "I don't. She was a beautician." I shift uncomfortably from leg to leg to make it obvious.

Daz makes a sympathetic face. "Oh dear, I know that pain but it's the best thing you'll ever do in the business, I promise. The boys don't like hairy arses on their twinks these days."

"Who says I'm a twink?" I grimace, pulling underwear out of my tender ass-crack.

He plays with a bit of his longish hair. "Just over 70 percent of your reviewers, sweets. Shall I show you?" He taps away at his computer keyboard and cranks the screen my way. I lean over the counter to have a look and then flinch back as I'm greeted with the full-frontal model shots from the second solo I did on Tuesday.

When Daz called me the first time I'd originally thought I was getting a kindly let-down.

"We didn't get as many responses as we'd hoped," Daz said carefully. I felt my stomach sinking. "But don't worry. We still want you to come in and have another shot at it."

"What? Why? I suck," I said, kicking the side of the counter dejectedly.

Soft laughter. "Oh boy, no. Robert actually sees a lot of potential in you. He's even come around on the matter of that silly little piercing, it turns out a lot of your reviewers would like to see your cute, punk-rock ass get turned out."

"Whoa."

Daz pressed on. "Now we think the reason you didn't get so many hits is because we didn't have any useable model shots of you. They're not willing to pay premium rates for a boy who keeps his jeans on."

"Oh, ok, so you want me to come in again?"

"Yep, just like last time, early, while things are quiet. We'll get you set up for another solo. Would you be comfortable doing something on a bed?"

"Sure."

"Ok then! Oh and one last thing. Robert just wanted me to say that you might want to consider getting a tan. We're trying to keep your image away from…"

"Twilight?"

"Well not exactly, it's just cuter if you don't have tan lines. We already have a couple of surfer-types. Got a pen and paper? I'll give you a time."

So far it's been an easy gig. Two solos, both early enough in the morning that the studio's been empty, except for an awkward encounter with a well-built guy with a blond faux-hawk walking out of Room Two in nothing but a jockstrap.

For my second solo they brought in Briar, the tech guy, who was sour and snappish to have been called in early to do sound work on my performance. That time we filmed in Room Two which was a lot larger than Room One, more like a long, narrow-ish factory space divided up by stage partitions into three varying sets crowded with cameras and lighting. One, I noticed, was kitted out to look like a college shower room complete with polished benches and a football jersey hanging over an open locker door. Another looked like an outdoor jacuzzi set into a deck and surrounded by plants.

I ended up jerking off for Robert and Briar on the huge platform bed of Set A and was happy to see Briar stripping down the sheets for laundry immediately after I'd finished. I'd always kind of thought the guys in porn had to sit in each other's dried spunk to film.

I got the callback for that shoot just a day later, on break at work.

"A movie already?" I said into the phone around a mouthful of pastrami Antony'd put together for my lunch. Jake's head snapped around from where he was lolling against the dumpster, smoking and texting.

"Uh huh," Daz said cheerfully, "We can talk over the details once you come in. How's Thursday at six sound?"

Thursday night? I swallowed around a ball of nervousness bulging its way up my oesophagus. That would mean meeting actual porn stars- actors, whatever.

"Sounds great," I croaked, ignoring Jake's snickers.

And here I am, trying to come across as cool as a cucumber to Daz and shitting myself every time I hear something from Room Two where they're winding up a movie, dreading the moment when the door opens, and reading comments on my profile page at Hard Pop under The Men.

"No I can't look anymore," I say, pushing away from the counter.

Daz pouts. "Aw Carter, they're great, really great. We're marketing you to a very connoisseur audience."

"I'm not sure I want to know what that means…"

Before he can inform me, the door to Room Two bursts open and Robert storms out, hands full of camera parts with someone I guess is his assistant trailing behind him, arms full.

"Get me Michael from Vivid on the phone," he growls at Daz before disappearing into his office with his lackey. I see a flash of illuminated screens and a swivel-chair before the door snaps shut.

Daz, the consummate receptionist, starts dialling immediately with only a slight bugging of his eyes at me.

Next out the door is the jockstrap guy I ran into on my second shoot. This time he's wearing nothing but a small white towel around his waist and chatting with the girl I'm assuming is Holly from Makeup, decked out in black from head to toe with an apron not-unlike the one I wear at Beau, except hers is full of tissues and brushes, and, I notice, a small pump bottle of Honey.

Behind them comes a massive guy with a head of thick, glossy, black hair, already phoning for a cab and shoving his deliciously-muscled arms into an apricot-colored shirt. He looks like he should be on one of the Miami based crime shows wearing a pair of aviators, the sort of guy you beg to suck the cock of.

"Hi," I find myself breathing in his direction, even though none of them have looked up and noticed me yet, too busy in their respective conversations. Daz snorts.

By way of acknowledgement Miami cocks his head in a 'Sure, guy' way and then disappears into Makeup, probably to hunt down his coat.

The girl looks up with a smile. "Hey there."

"Hey." I give a lame half-wave.

Blondie checks me out unabashedly. He's still got what I hope is a shit load of Honey up his tanned chest. The Makeup girl sees me looking and scrubs it off with a tissue from her apron, clucking.

"Hunter, you gotta clean off before you leave the set, it looks bad to the newbies."

"I'm sure he's seen worse," Blondie says with a playful lick of his lips that goes straight to my dick. "I saw your video, newbie. Hot."

It's not as embarrassing as it should be. I've already got this from Jake once the video went live. And Jake was a real peach and made sure it did the rounds amongst the kitchen boys, so now I can't walk in the door without being confronted by a pantomime of Paul-as-me rolling around on the tiles pretending to have an intense, howling orgasm while Chef and Antony snap their invisible cameras.

"Thanks, it was a lot of fun."

"Really? You looked so serious," he says slyly, chucking me under the chin with his smooth knuckles. I shiver. He sees it and his eyes glow. "Oh you are golden aren't you?"

"Leave him alone Hunter," Daz says in a dry voice, eyes not moving from his computer screen.

"Don't leave me alone," I say with a grin.

The girl -Holly- bursts out laughing. "You better watch your spot Hunter, he's a natural. Come on, let's get you cleaned up for the next shot, I think he got some in your hair."

"Don't even think about it," Daz says once they're gone.

"You don't know what I'm thinking," I say cheerfully. I'm already imagining taking a cute, oiled-up Hunter to my shitty apartment and breaking my shitty single bed.

"Well, bad idea." Daz's eyes flick away from his work. "Hunter's one of the nicer boys in the biz but he won't touch a co-star. That's what professionalism means in this industry."

I nod my head distractedly.

After a while Briar rocks up in sunnies, dressed like a slob with a huge fed-ex box under one arm and a suitcase in the other.

"New boom mic," he says, following my gaze. He seems to be in a much more cheerful mood than last time.

"Only the best for Robert," Daz says in a half-appreciative, half-weary voice.

"How is he?"

"Angry. Tanner's not looking good for it and Ryan's refusing to sign on until he sees a service tape."

Briar makes a hissing noise. "Can he do that?"

Daz shrugs. "If Robert wants him to be exclusive to Hard Pop then he'll pull out stops. You know how it goes."

Briar nods. "Man I hate the big shots."

I feel kind of left out. "What are we talking about?"

Daz sighs. "Only good news for you, sweets. Tanner, our number one, went and got himself quarantined." He shakes his head.

"Quarantined," Briar starts to explain, "is when you pop a positive on your monthly."

"He, uh, he has…?"

Daz looks sombre. "We don't know. He was making a movie -Wet Root Marathon- at Cream. One of the actresses involved popped a positive." Briars 'tsks' under his breath. "Anyway, Tanner and a bunch of the girls freaked out and got their tests done too early. They can't detect it that soon you know. So now they have to wait a 30 day cycle before they test again and prove clear. Until then Robert can't use him which means we don't have a 'star'."

"It's a fucking mess over at Cream," Briar adds, reaching over the counter to grab a stanley knife. "I heard they're so desperate for girls they're flying them in from the Valley. I even heard a rumour involving Lucy Cruz."

"That old witch will never come back to Manhattan," Daz says disinterestedly.

Briar shoots him a dirty look. "Say what you like, the day that star goes out I'm growing a grief beard. Best set of tits I've seen on a woman. Au nat-u-ral." He mimes a squeezing gesture at me like I would know.

Daz beckons me closer conspiratorially while Briar starts cutting up the box. "She was Briar's first shoot," he says in a mock-whisper, "back when he was a sad little operator's apprentice with a four-inch stiffy- Briar, can you not open that in here, you're getting cardboard on the floor, how do you think this makes us look!"

Briar vanishes through the Director's Door with his half-open package.

Daz and I strain to hear the curt, rapid tones filtering through the moment before the door shuts.

"Briar's straight?" I ask after a moment.

I get laughed at. "Carter, Robert is straight. They're in it for the money. And the creative freedom I guess. Gay pays more. Robert wants this to be the thinking fag's entertainment. It's about pushing boundaries without ever being, you know, S&M. And now he's in a grump because Tanner couldn't keep it out of the wrong pussy."

"Any pussy is the wrong pussy if you're going to work the gay circuit too," Hunter interrupts in a catty tone, stepping out of Makeup in blue-jeans and a tight white v-neck that looks like my fantasy. "I personally find it degrading to work in a studio where the number one is a dirty switcher."

"Tanner is bisexual?"

"Not even," Daz says with a look at Hunter that obviously says keep your voice down. "Tanner's full-fruit, he just likes working both scenes for the money. It's sort of an industry no-no. The girls don't like it either."

"So how come he's number one?"

Hunter starts to laugh. "Boy's got a cock like a rocket, comes on demand and can take a dicking for four hours straight and make it look like heaven."

I frown. "But he might be sick…?"

Hunter nods, looking a bit mollified.

A pimply-looking kid sticks his head out the door for Room Two. "Er, Hunter, we're going to start filming now."

Hunter claps a hand on my bicep, squeezing. "Good luck with the service."

Wait. What?

"Huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we called you in for today," Daz says as Hunter disappears for his shoot. "We got enough interest in your last solo to try for a 'service' reel. You know, show you off."

"So there'll be…another guy with me?"

"Don't worry, babe. He's a glorified fluffer, not a pretty-prick like Hunter. He'll make you feel comfortable before the camera starts rolling."

I nod, mouth suddenly dry. Just when I think I'm getting old-hat at this porn thing they throw me a curve ball.

Just in time, Robert pops out from his office looking a bit less dour. "Evening Carter."

"Hi! What, uh, what room do you want me in?"

"Go on through to Room One, Jules should be in there already. I'll be right in." He turns to discuss something grave-sounding with Daz.

Upon opening the door the first thing I notice is that someone's made the effort to put some colorful cushions on the sofa. The second thing I notice is the wiry middle-aged man sitting in the director's chair with his legs loosely crossed, reading a magazine. He looks up and then folds the magazine away when he sees me.

"Carter I take it. I'm Jules, I'll be servicing you today." It's very odd to hear that when shaking a man's hand.

Jules looks well on his way to becoming a wolf. He's kind of bony under his baggy gray shirt and his hair's more silver than black, but he's still an attractive guy and his handshake is firm.

"Hope you won't mind the stubble," he says with a laugh. "I used to shave it off for you boys but now my boyfriend won't let me."

I almost jerk my hand back in shock. "Your boyfriend knows you do this?"

He gives me a good-natured smile. "I think he figured it out on our second date. He was a bit touchy about it at first but now it turns him on to see me with the actors he likes."

"Sounds like a good deal," I say, taking a seat and trying not to edge away when he pulls up next to me.

"So, Carter, I'm thinking nothing too crazy."

I cough out a laugh. "Uh, yeah I don't like surprises."

"Yeah a lot don't. I think I surprised one guy into finding his prostate once."

"For real?"

He nods very seriously. "You'd be shocked at the amount of naive barely-legals who come through the business. It got to the point where I couldn't work with the ones who had no chest hair, you know?"

"Wow. Uh, I have chest hair," I say stupidly.

"Yeah, I saw," he says with a wolfish grin. "So let's say, I'll start with blowing you, and then if you're comfortable with it I'll play with your ass for the camera, and then I'll blow you some more and then you can come. Sound good?"

"Sounds mortifying."

He chuckles. "Hey you'll do fine. Twenty minutes tops, nothing drawn out. You can show off that thing in your lip if you like."

I rub my sweaty hands along the sofa cushion. "So I don't do anything for you?"

"Ha! That's the first time I've heard that. No, kid. Just lay back and enjoy yourself. They want to see a hot boy having a good time getting worshipped."

An Hispanic girl pokes her head around the door. "You guys cool?"

"Yeah, come in, Sophia. Sophia, Carter -Carter, our camera girl, Sophia. She's who you'll be working with on days when Robert's working a set."

We shake hands. The girl is tiny, I have no idea how she's going to work the massive tripod but she sets about it like it's made of spun-sugar, delicate hands flickering over the panels and levers until the bulk of camera is exactly the way she wants it.

"Alright boys, I've got a really, really gorgeous guy waiting at home for me tonight so let's make this snappy. Robert wants no toys, no fucking. Carter, just tap Jules if you think you're gonna pop early."

I let out a deep breath. C'mon Carter, it's no different from the first two times. Get naked.

I'm not sure whether it's some industry etiquette or whatever but both Sophia and Jules look away while I hop out of my jeans and yank my shirt off. Once I'm down to my underwear -purple boxer briefs- and seated in front of Jules on his knees, Sophia hits a switch.

The red light flicks on.

Jules' hands are warm and -comfortingly- lightly callused as they drag from my armpits, down my torso and hook under my underwear, pulling the fabric down so just a tease of the base of my cock is visible. Then he rubs his palms roughly up and down the outside of my thighs, tugging me forward so that my back settles into the sofa more and my hips are on the edge.

Then he goes to town, licking long, confident stripes from my navel to the line of my shorts, nipping the taut flesh and rolling it between his teeth with single-minded attention. The sensation is immediately arousing. I get hard so fast it would be embarrassing if Jules wasn't a very understanding, cock-sucking veteran and a professional. My hard-on is nudging up under his chin before he even gets to kissing the base of my cock, thumbs working in small, maddening circles down the sides of my shaft through the fabric.

By the time he pulls my underwear off, frogging my legs up beside his head and running his magical hands all over my chest -expert overstimulation- I'm already covered in a fine layer of sweat, my arms feeling tight and heavy, useless at my sides. I keep grabbing for sheets that aren't there.

I've never been particularly vocal during sex but I can't help a barked curse escaping my lips as Jules swallows me to the root, one long drawing suck and then nothing, meant to promise not to accelerate. He waits until I've stopped twitching to swallow me again, the back of his throat rubbing my cock-head unbearably. Each swallow and draw lasts a little longer until he's letting me thrust into his mouth, panting, trying to get my dick where it's tight and textured.

I can hear the whirr of the camera lens zooming in when he wrenches my legs up, knees either side of my chest and back bowed to show off the rest of my package. He's nibbling and stroking at the line of skin between my shaft and my balls, stubble driving me crazy where it tickles my ass cheeks. Once I remember where this is going I'm suddenly happy that that menacing Ukrainian girl got in there with her wax and spatula.

"Jesus fuck," I moan shakily when he starts chewing me, softly, just on the edge of my pucker, soothing away the feeling with rough strokes of his tongue. Being bent in half is making it hard to breathe and I can feel the heat radiating up off my sweaty chest and making my face feel flushed. I start groaning uncontrollably at about the time when he first starts frenching my ass, tongue working so hard and knowing that I don't know whether I'm squirming to get away or get more…

-:-:-:-

"Aaand that's a wrap, thanks boys."

Sophia's out the door so fast I almost get self-conscious about the smell of sex on me. My ass is still tingling. I try looking anywhere but at Jules' swollen mouth as I clean myself off with tissues from the Pink Box. Well we didn't need any Honey this time.

"That's some show you put on. No boyfriend?"

I shoot him a glare and he laughs, hands up in surrender.

"Ok, ok. I know how it is. You boys are all the same, so touchy about your lifestyle choices, like I'm here to judge."

"It's not that." I throw my shirt on. "I'm just looking for the right guy."

Jules makes a doubtful noise. "Right guy in the right wardrobe I'll bet." He sighs, hand paused on the door knob. "I'm not going to tell you to look past the tans and the hairstyles…I'm as shallow as the rest of you and I'm well past that game, but…you're a nice boy, not like those fucked up princesses next door." He cups my cheek, tender but not over-personal. "One day you're going to meet the one; and if he knows you're in porn -doesn't like it, does like it…whatever -you're going to wish you could get off without a camera in the room. Think about that."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the spiel, Yoda."

His grin is almost sad at the edges. But that might just be cum.

-:-:-:-

"So you'll give him my number then," Jake's saying over the low drone of off-peak customers' voices. I stand up, dusting my hands off after tweaking table thirty so that it no longer rocks. We spread out the dinner service tablecloth between us and I neaten it up so it falls right. Jake hates being on Saturday dinners so he never puts any effort into set-up, and I have to go behind, straightening the silverware and dusting off chairs. I used to wonder if Tony Sarenson would appreciate that on a resumé -'eye for detail'.

"Carter? You'll talk to Robert?"

I look up. "Yeah. But I can't promise they'll take you on, I think they're starting something big."

He nods. His hair's getting too long again and he's lost more weight. The old DKNY doesn't sit so nicely across his shoulders. "That'll be The Wildest Night," he says sagely, following me over to the next table.

"How the hell do you know?"

"It's all they were talking about last I was there. It's going to be the flagship for the studio. But I don't know what they're going to do now that Tanner Reid's been dropped."

"You ever met him? What's he like?"

Jake's face takes on a dreamy look. "He looks like Leonardo Dicaprio's twink cousin. He's insta-wood. Ass like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Do you seriously not watch the videos on the site?"

"No," I say with a smile, "I'm too scared of running into one of you." I poke my tongue out…then suck it back in when I realise Jenna's storming over from the direction of Ziggy's bar, chic black dress so tight she looks like she's got no tits.

"Hi boys, can I get you to do your work please," she says sweetly, clawed hand resting in the crook of Jake's elbow.

I smile back just as sweetly. "Have you put on weight Jenna?"

"Carter, clean the cake fridge once you're done."

I bite my tongue. I just cleaned it yesterday and she knows it.

I bow my head over my tray of napkin crowns and tea-lights and wait until I here the clack-clack of her heels disappearing before I look up.

"Gee thanks, way to stick up for me, Robin," I hiss, snatching a grubby spoon out of his hand before he can dump it on the table, and giving it a good polish.

"Hey we don't all have an affluent side-job, Batman," Jake says with just a hint of bitterness.

We continue working in silence for a few minutes just while Jenna's stalking around the floor being the world's falsest hostess.

"So how much did they give you for the service?"

I shrug. "'Bout six." Six hundred and fifty USD actually.

I hear Jake pause. "Do you think when you talk to Robert you could ask him about…me… maybe doing a service or something?"

"Sure! Then maybe it'll be you they're taking off in the kitchen next time." I use a a fork to point in the direction of the kitchen flaps where just the top of Antony's head is visible, bent over his prep no doubt. "So tell me about this 'flagship'."

"The Wildest Night?" he asks, shrugging and licking the back of a spoon before setting it down. I dart a look at Jenna's back before grabbing it off the napkin. "I'm not too sure. Like I said, there was a lot of talk but I'm not really in with the actors."

"Oh for- I'm not in."

"You have witty repartee with Hunter Stone. You're in," he says with an indecipherable look.

"Whatever, what's the plot going to be about?" I ask, "Daz was telling me yesterday that they're making a movie next door at Cream called Girl Bomb. The girls have sex with a bunch of guys but they're really lesbians so they blow up into pussy juice and the guys melt."

"Wow…" Jake says looking genuinely boggled. "Guess not everyone can afford Scorsese to direct their porn."

"From the way Briar and Daz talk about Robert you'd think he was Scorsese."

Jake nods. "Well he is isn't he."

"Jake," Jenna sing songs, "Carter. I can hear you talking."

"Fuck off Jenna," Jake sing songs back making the guy next to us snicker into his tea, "We're talking about po-orn."

Jenna's eyes narrow. It's like I have telescope vision. I can see her powdery little face scrunching up with annoyance. Jake continues, uncaring, "Way I heard it Robert got his experience in the Valley with one of the bigger studios." I remember the way Robert had said a popular studio name like it was slime. "He ended up moving here to do his own thing but he took a whole lot of contacts with him -big contacts. And the guy's married into this rich old family so he can afford to do just about anything he wants, and he wants to make a movie that'll put Pop at the top of boutique porn."

"But it's falling to pieces, right?"

I heft the glass door to the cake fridge open and Jake passes me some scrunched up newspaper and cleaner.

"Well yeah. He just bought into a 5 year exclusive with Ryan Wilde."

"Awesome."

"Oh Carter. You are such a gay fail it's not even cute. Ryan Wilde? The man's sex on legs. He used to do the hetero stuff, and you know, it's not my dish but I guess the boy did it well because there was some fuss about him going into Hollywood." I can tell by the excitement in Jake's voice that he's in love with the guy. "But then last year, there was this big stir up between him and a female co-star -publicity stunt for sure- and he started appearing in some gay stuff, just cameos you know -Bare Bronco, Inside Taylor Bull. But he's got really popular off it. He even got a spread in GQ. They're saying he's going to be bigger than Patrick Bone if he ever starts making proper movies."

"And Robert bought him?" I ask, astounded.

"Yep. I think the plan is to get Wilde to play Romeo to Tanner's Juliet. You know, a sort of set piece for the studio. And in return Ryan gets his debut with the most exclusive new studio in Manhattan."

"But Tanner's not doing The Wildest Night," I say, scrubbing at a stubborn bit of ice I must have missed.

"Well I guess they're looking for a replacement then," Jake says, taking a bite of caramel eclaire before sliding it back into the fridge.

 

A/N: I'm having a lot of fun writing nastyass clinical sex if you can't tell. For reference, a 'wolf' is an older man, like a 'bear' but less built.