Sex Sessions: After the Cut

Camera Tales, #2

I'm Kambry Rivers, famous for . . . holding onto my V-card? 

Ha! Just kidding. Okay, maybe I'm not. I have to find humor in my current predicament, otherwise, I'd cry. My parents would be so ashamed. The very thing I hated holding onto put money in my bank account. Ironic, isn't it? I've been a lot of things in such a short time. Alabama good girl, yes. Runaway, again, yes. Virgin, well, not anymore. Porn star . . . 

I'm still letting that sink in. Eh, adult film star sounds classier. In my head, it makes a difference.

It all started with a guy. Doesn't it always? There I was, working in the VIP section of the nightclub and he ended up at my table. Rule number one: serve them like VIP while pretending they're ordinary people. Yeah, okay. Try telling that to a shy girl. He was cute. I didn't notice. At least that's what I kept telling myself. He couldn't be too famous if I didn't recognize him, right? 

The most dangerous predator moves under the radar. Shark. They find amusement in the weak. His teeth were in me before I saw him coming. Or maybe it was a tongue . . . 

Okay, so, maybe he was a lot hotter than I remembered. And funny. And interesting. And, it gave me a rush, okay? I wasn't used to so much freedom. Before I knew it, I had signed my name to a legally-binding document and found myself with a new roommate. And maybe it stated somewhere that we were supposed to have sex with hidden cameras in the room. Just pretend they're not there. How easily he could make me forget . . . We only live once, right?

I was never paid to fall in love. Or raised to like having sex with my well-known porn star boyfriend for anyone with a readily available internet connection to watch. Whoops. Now we wait for our next instruction. New York here we come. He may have wanted a virgin. He got so much more.