Chapter 1

PAISLEY

 

One phrase can sum up my whole move to London.

That didn’t go quite as planned.

Even closer on the timeline scale, if someone had said a month ago I’d be sitting in a coffee shop waiting for a well-hung stranger to arrive, I’d have told you to keep taking the medicine. You know, for your kind of crazy.

What’s worse, I’m not even waiting for said stranger for myself, but rather because of business. No—not the whoring kind of business. Although, if it weren’t for my friend, Chastity, I may well have already begun to sell my body in order to eat. But that’s another story. One with an unhappy ending, strangely enough, beginning just two months ago. But I don’t have time to let my mind wander down that particular memory lane of distaste as the door to the hipster-chic coffee shop opens, and a man steps into the space. His large silhouette is framed by the afternoon light, highlighting the cut of his dark suit and how it fits perfectly to his broad shoulders.

I turn my wrist, glancing down at my watch; on time and dressed to impress. He certainly seems to be taking this interview seriously.

From my table in the far corner—chosen so as not to upset the late afternoon crowd with talk of dick and pussy and other such things—I stand and wave. It’s weird how quickly I’ve become desensitised. These days, I can discuss the merits of butt plugs and clitoral stimulation with the best of them. Not that I’d necessarily choose to have these conversations in public, with strangers, but I digress.

The arc of afternoon sunlight cuts out as the door closes behind him, making me wonder why these places are always so dark. No matter as his long legs eat up the space between us, his intense gaze flicking my way. Wow. He’s even more handsome in the flesh. I add a smile to my greeting, unable to resist glancing down once more at the tablet on the table in front of me. A tablet filled with the black and white stills I’ve been examining all day.

All. Day.

More than is professionally acceptable, for sure. I tell myself it’s nerves—that it’s because I’ve never done this part of the job before. Interviewing potential candidates. But I don’t know why I’m bothering to lie to myself because I know I’ve become a dirty ole perve. It’s what happens when your new job includes studying a person’s photographic résumé, one that includes pictures of the cut of his jawline, abs, and cock. And then there are one or two on-the-job photos—and I mean on the job. A woman bent at the waist over a table, his body bowed, her blonde hair twisted in his hand.

I drag my mind from the images as the man hesitates on the other side of our table for two. Butterflies with wings like vultures beat in my chest cavity. I’ve never interviewed anyone before, porn star or not.

Imagine him naked, my mind whispers. Wait—that’s probably what has me twitterpated in the first place.

Honey brown hair and dark eyes, the man is gorgeous. And dressed as he is, he certainly looks at home in the heart of the city—he has that whole captain of industry vibe going on. But on my second look, the tiny display of hesitancy in the jut of his brow immediately sets me at ease.

‘Hi, I’m Paisley.’ I offer him my hand across the table. ‘You’re expecting Chastity, I know,’ I babble as he presses his large hand against mine. Large hand. Strong wrist. The tensing of a large bicep beneath his sleeve. ‘But she was called away at the last minute. So you got me!’ I make a stupid jazz hands motion as the hottie looks back, bemused? Amused? Probably both those things.

‘Chastity,’ the low rumble of his voice repeats, sending a shiver of appreciation down my spine. Since I’d moved to London a year ago, accents have become my thing. His accent, I’m going to guess is . . .

‘You’re Scottish, right?’

He agrees with a slight incline of his head.

‘And I know what you’re thinking; it’s a little oxymoronic for a purveyor of porn to be named Chastity.’

I might snort a little, knowing Chas would kill me for using the P word. It’s the dirty connotations in porn, I almost hear Chas’s cut-glass accent intone. All that deep throating and banging. It just doesn’t do it for the mass female audience.

‘You had me at porn.’ Amusement colours his tone as he pulls the chair from under the table, lowering his frame into it. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s fighting a smile. Hazel eyes, I realise, golden flecks matching his hair, and a large though lean frame. The camera would eat him up. Given half the chance, I think I’d do the same.

Except for the porn thing.

Hell, what was his name again? I’ve been perving all day at his stills, but I can’t remember his name? No matter, I decide, babbling again.

‘Okay. What can I tell you?’ The hottie looks on expectantly as I begin what Chastity calls the company spiel. ‘Fast Girl Media produces women and couple-centric erotica with an emphasis on seduction, romance, and sensuality. We provide a highly curated experience from beautiful cinematographic sequences to sensual photographic stills. Also available on the website is an extensive collection of erotic literature for a different kind of stimulation.’ I pause, feeling a pinprick of discomfort as the barista suddenly appears, placing a tiny white cup in front of him. At least I wasn’t in the middle of mouthing the word cock or dildo. Not that I physically mouth those things for the company, you understand. In fact, I don’t do anything, other than a little assisting. And a little admin

As the hottie gestures to my cup, it suddenly occurs to me that I didn’t see him order his own drink. But as I murmur a no thanks and the barista retreats, I inhale and begin again.

‘You’re a little older than I imagined—’

‘Is that so?’ His mouth hitches in one corner, and good Lord, the man has dimples. Well, at least one of them.

And that accent? I bet he gives amazing aural. He just exudes poise and a taunting, relaxed kind of confidence. So much so, he’s totally making me blush. It’s almost as though he knows exactly what I’ve been looking at. Hell, imagining. These are all good signs, I decide. I want him on the job. I mean, I want to give him the job.

And me a vicarious screwing.

‘W-what I mean to say is, your age totally works in your favour. And,’ I add quickly, ‘it does not in any way diminish your attraction.’ He already knows this, but the advice Chastity supplied was to pander to their egos. ‘Or indeed your suitability.’

‘Suitability?’ His coffee cup half conceals his sultry smirk as he lifts it to his lips.

‘Yes,’ I say, making a judgment call I know Chas will get behind. ‘We have a shoot coming up next week. It’ll be filmed on location—Barcelona, to be exact. So providing you can supply the appropriate paperwork in time and don’t have an aversion to anal, I’d like to offer you the gig.’

His response has me squealing a little as I jump up from my seat.

I wipe the coffee explosion from my face as my mind intones once again, Well, that didn’t go at all as planned.