Mr. President

I mean, look at me? A porn star?

Sure, I used to be famous, if famous is the word. I mean, I used to be on DVD covers and on the Internet. My face used to be plastered on porn sites. Click on me and you’d see me sucking cock. Licking another girl’s pussy. Having a cock pounded into me.

Yeah, I like sex. I liked the role playing I used to do. Pretending to be the stepmom and getting paid for it. Dressing up as the stepdaughter and moaning ‘Daddy’ and calling that work. Driving my Mercedes. Having fancy clothes. Jewelry.

I liked sex. I still like sex.

And now, I have 24 hours. 24 hours to steal the one device that could make me a star again. 24 hours to take from the man I love his greatest accomplishment and give it to his sworn enemy.

Or else, the dark shadow from my past comes back to haunt me.

Right, I keep hinting at Robert, the ex-boyfriend, but you actually have no idea completely what I’m talking about yet, do you?

I know I kept telling you that I’d fill you in but I never have.

I’m sorry about that, hun. I really want to, because you deserve to know, since you’re the reader and all.

It’s just that it’s been so difficult to bring him up. I mean, I want to completely put that part of my life in a box and forget about it.

But, I guess if I can’t tell you, who can I tell?

Well, yeah I know, don’t roll your eyes. I could probably tell Ethan too.

I probably will need to, come to think about it. Because one way or another, I think I’m fucked.

So, let’s see …

What Simon is threatening to do to me is basically tell Robert McIntyre, my ex-boyfriend, who lives in Los Angeles, California where I’m currently at.

Robert McIntyre was the man I dated when I did porn back in the day. He was the ‘modeling agent’ who found me when I was working in an elementary school. He gave me his card and wined and dined me. He fucked me first and then slowly got me used to the idea of porn. First he had me do modeling shots that were sexier and racier. It started with bikinis and underwear. You know, the kind of stuff on Macy’s ads that you see in the newspaper.

Then it became a bit edgier. Topless shoots. Showing my tits.

Then he began getting money for those selling them to magazines. Soon, it was with a guy. And then we were both naked in the pictures. And then soon, we were fucking.

I saw the fancy cars, the clothes, the expensive watches, and the glamor and I fell for it.

I always did modeling on the side even while holding my day job, but eventually you know, you can’t do porn and teach elementary school kids at the same time.

So I quit my job when he convinced me to.

I mean, he wasn’t the cutest guy. But he was all I knew. I hadn’t dated very much till then and I had no idea what to expect from a man in a lot of ways. I wasn’t that experienced in sex like I am now.

But he wasn't the…nicest of men either, hun. He was mean at times.

By mean, I mean he had a temper.

There were plenty of times I applied makeup to cover up something that he did.

Plenty of times that I made excuses for a blemish or a bruise.

He always apologized afterwards, but I couldn't get out. Because any mention of me leaving that relationship would just drive him to get even more upset.

A part of me was scared, for sure. While he never hit me that hard or punched me or threw me down the stairs or anything, the anger and violence was there in his eyes. Plenty of times he punched a hole in the wall or broke something. He once ripped a pair of my panties in anger when I didn’t want to have sex. I don’t want to talk about how I maced him in the eyes immediately afterwards.

Macing him was actually at that stage where I was fighting back. But for over two years I took it.

But who knows, I probably would have stayed in that relationship fighting back longer if I had to, if I hadn't found out he was basically living a double life.