DirtyInterludes (5 page)

A waitress wandered over and Bridget welcomed the
distraction. Making an order of pancakes and coffee, she settled back to chat
with Cathy of mundane things. Her thoughts kept drifting to Max and the
burgeoning desire to have him touch her again. To shove his fingers inside her
and tease her flesh. Max posed a danger to her the more time she spent with
him. And she wasn’t sure if she minded.

Chapter Four

Max trudged down the hall, mentally exhausted from the
activities of the day. Bridget kept invading his thoughts and it made him
uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have kissed her, let alone touched her. All of it
niggled as if she were a missing piece to a problem. Disgruntled, he shook off
the thought. Lethargy was making him loopy. At least Viagra helped him maintain
an erection. Tired as he felt, he doubted he’d have managed it alone. The boner
he’d been carrying for the last couple of hours had thankfully started to wane.
Adjusting it behind his jeans, he wandered into the break room for some coffee.
Picking up his mug, he tossed it hand to hand as he waited behind another guy.
Dane was an African-American man with the physique of a bodybuilder and
relatively new to the industry. It’d been around a year ago Dane was introduced
to the team and Max watched as the rose-colored glasses slowly came off.

As though sensing his thoughts, Dane slanted his head toward
him. “Hey.”

“Hi. How’s it going?”

“Good. You finished for the day?”

“Yeah. Glad it’s over. I’m exhausted.”

Dane’s shoulders slumped and one side of his mouth quirked.
“I wish mine was done. I got a double penetration, but the girl wouldn’t stop
crying. So messed up.”

A shiver ran down his spine. He’d thought he’d outgrown this
feeling. “New girl?”

“Yeah. Think she’s Latino or something. Got nice tits.”

Oh shit. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Venus?”

Dane faced him. “You know her?”

“I had her a couple of days ago. I didn’t know they’d throw
that at her.”

Dane shrugged. “I don’t make the rules here.”

A sickening feeling marched up his spine. He turned away
from Dane, coffee forgotten. He had to get to the bottom of this. The sound of
weeping, so familiar, slowed his steps as he neared an open studio. Curled up
against the arm of a lounge, Venus sobbed, a sheet thrown haphazardly over her
nakedness. Beside her one of the more experienced women crouched down, rubbing
Venus’ shoulder. He couldn’t hear what was being said but he knew it was meant
to help. Make her feel less worthless than she did now.

Cursing, Max hurried down the hall and up a private set of
stairs that led to Vane’s office. He pushed the door open and marched across
the hardwood floors. Forget that he didn’t have any shoes or a shirt. His entry
demanded attention. “You need to let Venus out of her contract.”

Vane leaned back in his seat, tossing his pen onto the black
mirrored table.

“You want me to what?”

“You heard me,” Max said.

Vane angled forward, forearms propped on the table. Blond
brows narrowed over sharp blue eyes. “What do you think I run here? Dungeon is
a business, not some weekend project.”

Max kept his features impassive even as frustration burned
in his gut. “What do you hope to achieve when that girl cries every time some
guy touches her?”

Vane shrugged. “She’ll get used to it. It’s the nature of
the beast. She knew very well we didn’t knit quilts. She knew she had to fuck
other people to get paid.”

Lips tightened, Max formed a fist. He very well knew how
Venus could’ve been drawn into the industry. Vane had a face many women found
appealing. Blond curls and expressive eyes that managed to hide the dark,
pragmatic views from being in the adult film industry. He portrayed
professionalism and charisma, which duped women into believing everything was
in their power. But most of the time it wasn’t.

“She’s barely even legal. Surely you can’t justify using her
like that?”

“Why not? She signed a contract and if she wants to leave
then I’m within my rights to sue her for loss of income.”

Max had known Vane as a performer and by industry standards
he was a veteran. Fresh on the scene, Max quickly became disillusioned by the
industry. He listened to Vane complain about the standards in filming and the
treatment of other actors. Within a couple of years Vane had started his own
company and it flourished with veterans such as himself moving over.

People celebrated a new wave in the industry. A kind of
utopian workplace where people had a say in what they wanted to do. Had a say
in scripting and were able to voice concerns. But the last year saw a change in
Vane. His outlook became bitter and standards in the care for actors’ physical
and mental health dropped.

Rage burned in his chest. “You never used to be such an
asshole. You started this company in the interest of fair pay and treatment of
all performers and now you’re like the others you used to despise.”

Vane’s face stiffened as the barb hit home. “I’m not doing
this for kicks. She is bound by contract—”

Max slapped his hands on the table. “I don’t give a fuck
about your ego and whatever you think is
owed
you. You used to
be
one of us. You know this is wrong.”

Vane stood, a flush riding up his neck. “You think you can
dictate to me? I could throw you at Demi and let her fuck you with the biggest
dildo you’ve ever seen. Better yet, I could make you get on your knees and suck
off one of the men.”

Trepidation slithered down his back, but he’d be damned if
he’d let Vane know how much the words scared him. He knew Vane could do it. “Do
it. See if I care. Just let Venus out. You’ll kill her if you make her go on.”

Vane scoffed. “You’re making it a bit dramatic aren’t you?
If she has a problem she can speak to our doctor. Xanax would calm her down.”

He’d seen doctors prescribing drugs just to help performers
cope with what they had to do. Those coping mechanisms quickly became
addictions and he feared in a year he’d see Venus again and she’d be nothing
but a ghost of herself.

“That’s not going to help anyone but you.”

“At least she won’t cry when you fuck her.”

“Fuck you. Now I wished I’d jumped ship like Dylan and Ruby
did.”

Something flickered in Vane’s eyes. It could’ve been rage.
Betrayal or a flash of his conscience. Max wasn’t sure.

“This is the reason I have to be harder in contracts. You
think I’m doing this for shits and giggles? This is a business. If I let people
out of their contract because they cry when getting fucked, how long do you
think this company would last? A year? Two? Try six months. I’m not a fucking
charity. Everyone cries when they first start out. It’s a fact of life.”

“A fact Venus wasn’t made aware of. Did you tell her how
many guys she would fuck at any one time? How vanilla would quickly turn to
kink? How she wouldn’t have any rights anymore? Let her go, Vane.”

“Fine, if you want her out, you have to pay for it.”

Bile burned in the back of his throat. How much was he
willing to sacrifice to get a person he barely knew out of her contract?

“Buy out half her contract and you’ll work beside Demi.”

Max stiffened. Demi would want him for nothing more than a
submissive. “But I’m not known for bottom work.”

Vane settled at his desk and picked up a pen to sign some
document. “Well, you will be now.”

His stomach heaved as a cold sweat broke out on his
forehead.

Vane looked up, a brow raised. “Or I could sign Venus for
that spot. Demi doesn’t mind who she dominates. That’s the good thing about
her. She doesn’t question what she has to do. She just does.”

Numb lips moved. “Fine.”

Vane turned his attention back to the pile of paper before
him, casually reading through them as if he hadn’t just taken what little piece
of control Max had in this industry and tore it to bits. The pen scratched over
the paper, the silence so oppressive it felt like a whisper of mocking laughter.

Vane glanced up. “Is there anything else?”

Max swallowed hard. “No.”

He turned away and it took every ounce of his control not to
slam the door. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d thought being one of
the veterans in the game he’d avoid getting screwed, but he guessed not.

* * * * *

Max handed Bryce a beer and noticed a mild sweat on his
friend’s brow. Bryce reached for the bottle, his fingers trembling. Concern
tightened in Max’s gut. “You all right, man?”

Bryce’s features stiffened, a defensive wall thrown up.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Max lifted one shoulder and took a generous swallow of his
beer. “No reason.”

Bryce settled back into the sofa, kicking his heel up onto
the coffee table. The lid he’d uncapped clattered on the glass table’s surface.
“Heard what you did for Venus.”

Max gauged his friend’s reaction, eying the cool repose
filled with tension. For all of Bryce’s fun-loving ways, something was off
about him. Tonight he didn’t sound pleased by the outcome. Chin dipped toward
his chest, lips drawn down, he appeared disgruntled.

“What did you hear?” Max asked.

“Vane cut up her contract. Lately he’s been all about being
ironclad after Dylan and Ruby so I’m just surprised.”

Everything went on high alert, goose bumps skittered along
his skin. Bryce was his best friend, and they’d been in the industry for a
while. They were veterans of the game and like him, Bryce was in it for the
money. They never discussed how or why they got into the industry and perhaps
now they should.

“She was new. Didn’t know what she was getting into. I
couldn’t let her carry on like that. It feels a bit like rape.”

Bryce’s chuckle was derisive and he knocked back his drink
like a man drowning.

Holy hell. Max reached for the bottle. “Whoa there. It’s not
a race, man.”

Rather than say anything, Bryce settled the bottle against
his thigh, the silence between them thick and oppressive. “Rape. That’s a funny
word to use in this industry.”

Max shrugged. “Tomato, tomahto. Still feels the same to me.”

“I don’t feel that way about it.” He shrugged in
nonchalance. “What’d they think they were gonna get? Seduction? Romance? That
shit is for pussies.”

“You know the money is a big draw and Vane’s employment crew
know how to sell this like our dicks were made out of gold.”

Bryce chuckled into his beer. “Damn.”

“Point being, some people just don’t know if it’s for them
until they try it.”

Bryce’s gaze narrowed. “But you like it?”

“Sure, some days are worse than others. Why do you ask?”

Bryce’s hesitation was telling. “No reason.”

Max shuffled forward until he perched on the edge of his
seat, elbows on his knees. “You want out?”

Bryce’s gaze cut to the floor, the wall, the television.
Everywhere but at Max.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore, just tell Vane and
finish off your contract. You’ve been doing this a long time, it’s cool if
you’re tired of the game.”

Bryce scratched his head, his hand fisting in his hair. “No,
no. It’s just my walls fucking with me.”

Confusion tumbled through his head. Had he missed something?
“Walls?”

A grimace swept across his friend’s face. He dropped his
hand on his thigh, the movement weary. “Forget I said anything.” Bryce burped
and stood, tipping the last of the beer back. “You want another?”

Max held out his full bottle. “I’m all right.”

“Right.”

As Bryce disappeared into the kitchen for another drink, Max
wondered about his friend’s quicksilver mood. Something was off, and he
couldn’t in good conscience ignore it. When his friend returned, Max decided to
go in for the kill.

“Something’s bothering you. Have you seen the counselor?”

Bryce stared at him as if he’d asked him to stick his dick
in a block of ice. “Why would I see her?”

Max shrugged, leaning back into the lounge. “You seem a
little on edge lately.”

“And that means I’m in need of a shoulder to weep on? Come
on, Ferrah isn’t even a real counselor. She used to fuck guys like us and
that’s supposed to make her an expert on the human mind? She just listens to
people complain. I’m not about to join that group of whiners.”

“I’ve talked to her.”

Bryce paused, drink midway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. After Rochelle.”

“Rochelle?”

“The first chick to cry on me. I felt like such an asshole.
I kinda went off the rails for a few months. If I hadn’t talked to Ferrah I
think I’d probably be more fucked up. Who knows?”

“You think that works?”

“I know it does. Sometimes talking it out helps. And trust
me, it takes a stronger person to admit they need help rather than continue
self-destructive behavior.”

Lips thinned and Max knew he’d tipped his cards too far.
“You saying I’m self-destructive?”

“Look, I’m worried, that’s all. You’re my best friend. I’d
hope you’d look out for me, just like I would you.”

“Did you leave your testicles in your purse or something?”

“No, but yours are hanging on my review mirror.”

Appeased, Bryce punched him on the shoulder. “Pussy.”

Max chuckled, even though his gut churned. “It’s what we do.
Fuck pussy.”

“Fuck da pussy.” Bryce saluted, then took another swig.

The tightness in his chest eased and Max stood to check on
the roast he’d put on that afternoon. Sunday roast, just like his mom did it.
Since moving to Los Angeles he’d had to create a home-away-from-home feeling.
His career choice wasn’t exactly what his parents had wanted for him. He grew
up in a steady household, never wanted for anything and found his way into the
adult acting industry.

It took his parents a few years to get over the
“disappointment” of their son leaving his intellect behind for quick-and-easy
money. Sad thing was, the money wasn’t exactly easy. Max was starkly aware that
he was one of the lucky people. He still had family. More than he’d like to
think were ostracized for their choice. It’s why they tried to create a
self-made family of sorts. He glanced over his shoulder at Bryce. Usually Dylan
and Ruby would be sitting there with him taking the piss out of each other.
Vane used to be pretty laid-back, but over the last two years he’d become a bit
of a dick, so Max didn’t think to invite him. Now it was just Bryce.