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Jesse is going to kill Sam when they get out of here. This is HIS client’s problem and, as always, Jesse’s the one left doing the hard part while Sam prowls through the company’s records, trying to get an in and discover if this multi-billion dollar porn producer is secretly trafficking in white slavery. Jesse and Fi are the backup – if Sam fails to find the DVDs or the documentation, Fiona The Porn Star and Jesse the Cameraman will likely find friendship with a frightened girl winning to turn evidence. Jesse glares again at the little camera in his hand. How the hell had he managed to pass the audition is beyond him, as he barely knows how to point and shoot and operate the zoom button. Confidence, he discovers later on, is a crucial asset in porn. Confidence in himself is the only thing he owns right now.

Throwing another glance over his shoulder at the closed door of the producer’s office (still shut), he flings a panicked look back at Fiona, who sits on the producer’s grimy casting-couch-slash-chaise lounge. She simply shifts her shoulders.

“Are you okay with this?”

Another shrug. “I won’t do anything I don’t want to do, Jesse. “

“Yeah, I know. What do I do if he brings in a little ‘enhancement talent’ for you to play with?”

“Then you step in.”

Jesse stares at her with what, he’s sure, is a stupefied expression. “You’re saying you want to fuck me?”

Another non-committal shrug. “Better the devil you know.”

“Thanks.” He can’t keep the resentment out of his voice this time.

She reaches across to Jesse and playfully slugs him in the arm. “It won’t be that bad. I’m not risking anything I’ve not risked before.”

“If I touch you it’ll change everything.”

Fi rolls her eyes. “I’m surrounded by romantics.” She adjusts the top of her dress and hikes the skirt up a few inches. “Your touching me won’t do anything to change us. I’m not the blessed virgin, and I’ve never been made of glass,” she says. Jesse tries not to look at her breasts, at the smooth rise and fall of her flat stomach as she leans back against the green duvet, her too-short white lace dress revealing plenty and concealing too much.

Sam would have made a joke about what she could handle, Michael would have made a disapproving statement and become her shadow, but Jesse’s strong worry won’t voice itself; he stands up and pecks the top of her head, turning Fi’s eyes soft, gentling her smile. Whatever happens next, they’re in this together, and they both know it.

The door opens, admitting the greasy-haired, pinky-ring sporting, leisure suit wearing target. Tony Amatti, owner of Pleasure Productions, the largest distributor of pornography on the eastern seaboard, and also their apparent white slaver. “All right, Miss Starlett,” his smile is lubricious as he hands Fi her release form. “Looks like you’re clean. All set for your on-camera debut?”

“Sure,” she grins, adopting a southern accent that forces Jesse to mask a smile.

“Not every cougar’s hot enough to make it into my MILF And Cookies series of films. I hope you don’t mind us filming a little audition scene?”

“No,” she smiles, widening her grin, her eyes flashing impishly.

“All right then…we’re rolling for speed,” he tells Jesse, even though it’s just a digital camera recording straight to a DVD. Jesse lifts the camera to his shoulder and focuses it. He sits down in his desk chair while Fi adopts a properly seductive pose. “Hi, honey,” he purrs. “What’s your name?”

“Bambi,” Fi giggles.

“What do you like?” he asks.

“Boys,” she says. “Especially boys with big, hard cocks.” She slipped her hands up her thighs, hiking her skirt even higher, giving Jesse a clean shot of her bare sex.

“Do you like them young?”

“Oh,” Fi shakes her hair out and gives a sensual grin to the camera. “I like all sorts of boys.”

“What would you do if you had a hot, hung young guy right here in the room with you?”

She smiles into the camera and breathes, “I’d take his cock out and suck it ‘til he comes all over my face.”

Jesse bites back a groan as the aggressive tone of her voice does glorious things to his libido.

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve got, Bambi?” The producer’s voice is cold and clinical – he does this a million times a day, could care less about the woman Jesse sees through the unblinking lens. Jesse, however, has been waiting for months to see her strawberry pink nipples, which Fiona reveals as slowly as humanly possible. Pushing the skirt of her dress upward, she turns it into a band of cloth bisecting her middle and pushes her hair back, showing off for the camera.

“You have a pretty cunt, baby,” he says. “Spread your legs, let us see it.”

Fiona obeys him, reclining and spreading her legs apart, curving her sex toward the camera, the arch of her back spreading the lips slightly apart. Jesse can’t help but notice that she’s getting wet, and feels his cock harden in instinctive response. “What about my tits?” she asks, cupping and displaying them for the camera. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“Yeah, baby,” the producer says. Fi lies back, playing with them absently, plucking and pinching at the peaks of both, releasing the occasional breathy moan as her hand snakes down to her sex, her expression an over-emotive parody of ecstasy. Jesse can see the real Fiona under ‘Bambi’s' skin, her amusement, and even her pleasure at being exposed; it evaporates any guilt he might’ve had for watching her do this. Her right hand finally reaches her sex and her head falls against the side of the chaise in a tumble of red locks, the cheeks stained red, a little moan escaping her mouth. It’s a sight Jesse’s seen in countless movies, but coming from a woman he’s attracted to, a woman who’s apparently aroused by the idea of being watched by him turns him on irrevocably.

She’s fingering herself earnestly now – paying more attention to her clit than he’d assumed she would like, stroking the tip of it very gently while she plunges two fingers into and out of her wet sheathe, her small breasts pressed photogenically together thanks to the position of her arms.

“Yeah, sweetheart…sit up…” the producer held out his middle finger and Fiona sits up, quickly flicking her tongue up and down the length of it before sucking it slowly into her mouth and bobbing her head back and forth theatrically. Jesse’s groin cramps at the excruciatingly enticing sight. Fiona’s eyes tell him that Amatti tastes like shit, but she’s going to keep sucking his to avoid thinking about sucking anything else. “God yes,” he breathes, letting go. “Put in a third one, honey,” the producer orders, and Fi laughs, opening her eyes half-way, giving him a smoky gaze.

“I could put in my whole fist, if you like.”

The very idea makes Jesse’s toes curl and the camera shake in his grip. He’s getting close to critical mass and starts wondering how the hell he’s going to mask any revealing stains in front of Sam when Fi moans.

She melts slowly back toward the chaise, keeping her legs apart and her hands still between her legs. Her eyes tell Jesse she’s into it, that it would be perfect if Amatti wasn’t there, if they were alone. He’s wondering if he’s reading things into those wild eyes of hers when his thoughts melt away again. He hears the door open, sees a man a few years older than he is standing in the doorway in jeans and a baseball cap, an obvious hard-on pressed against the fly of his pants.

“Sweetheart, look what I got you.”

Jesse gets pissed at the intrusion, but Fi’s agile mind beats him to the punch. “Why reach for more sugar when you’ve got a whole sack sitting right here?” she purrs, pressing her palm to Jesse’s crotch. He lets out a grunt as she yanks him forward by his belt, reaching out quickly to unzip his fly.

Jesse stares down at her, an eyebrow up and the camera aimed squarely at her face. Are you sure? his expression reads. Fi’s eyes answer him – while her features are arranged in a mask of lust he sees the humor, the tiny hint of arousal.

“This is hot,” remarks Amatti, and in the corner of Jesse’s vision he can see the older man’s hairy crotch, his hand eagerly working his freed cock. Then he blocks everything else in the office out and concentrates on Fiona’s face.

“Mmm,” she hums, running her hand up and down his shaft quickly before rubbing her cheek against the tip. “So big.” Then she takes the tip into her mouth and draws upon it for a moment before slowly, inch by inch, slipping him down her throat.

Jesse’s mind melts; he almost drops the camera at the wet, hot sensation of Fi’s tongue slithering back and forth against his cock as she slowly takes him into her mouth. When she hits bottom she generously fakes a gagging sound, then pulls him from her mouth, dripping with saliva. “Whatt’re you gonna do to me with this big thing? Are you gonna fuck me ‘til I scream?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

“Don’t make me wait for it,” she orders. Then she deep-throats him again, her motions more rapid, the suction of her throat expert and brain-meltingly hot.

Jesse takes control, threading the fingers of his free hand through her hair and pulling her close to his groin. This time she genuinely gags, and her nails bite into his thigh. Her pain makes him instantly contrite, and Jesse runs his fingers through her hair and over her bare shoulders by way of apology.

“Gimmie that,” demands Amatti, snagging the camera from Jesse’s loose grip. He could give a damn about the man’s existence – right now, all that counts is Fi’s mouth and the gleam hidden in her lambent expression. She runs a palm up his thigh, cupping his balls as she hums around his cock. “This is so fucking hot.” Jesse agrees, but all he can do is moan and toy with her nipples.

Jesse knows she’s trying to get him off as quickly as possible, but at the moment he can only see heaven, feel paradise and know that she wants him. The neediness in Fiona’s touch telegraphs that to every nerve in his body, the bite of her nails on his thighs and the aggressive but soft touch of her fingers stroking his balls. She needs to get off, too.

“How about you show me how you fuck, beautiful?” Amatti asks. Fiona takes it, predictably, to the limit, and just before Jesse unleashes a torrent of cream to the depths of her mouth she pulls away, scooting back up the duvet and spreading her legs.

Jesse’s entire world narrows to the pink slit between her thighs, which drips just from the joy of sucking his cock. “Fuck me, big boy,” she orders.

She’s piling it on, but Jesse doesn’t care; he climbs over her in a quick, catlike motion, reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and eventually produces a Trojan.

“Fuck it, go bareback,” Amatti orders, but Jesse ignores the demon on his shoulder. “None of my girls use rubbers! They don’t sell videos.”

“You can cut around it, man,” Jesse replies, “you didn’t test me, I’d be putting your investment at risk.”

“Fine. Not like I can’t buy another one off the street if you KU her.”

At his admission, Fiona bristles against Jesse’s touch, but he’s quick to protect her. While sheathing himself, before bracing his right hand on the chaise beside Fi, Jesse wishes he were anywhere but this office, grinding Fiona into a grimy duvet under a poster for ‘Melinda Does Milwaukee’. She deserves better, but didn’t they all? Then her greedy hands reach for him, groping more than helping as Jesse finally enters her.

The heaven Jesse is enrobed in at his initial penetration is wiped away by the vocal intrusions of Amatti. “Missionary?” he whines. “That’s snoresville! Gimmie some cowgirl action, show off that hot little…”

“Shut. Up,” Fi snarls, wrapping her arm around Jesse’s neck.

“You’re hot when you’re scary,” Jesse whispers.

“I wasn’t just talking to the slimeball,” she replies, yanking at his belt loop.

His first few thrusts move Fi on the duvet – she lets out a series of well-pleased squeals as she locks her boot-covered heels around the middle of his back, biting the sharp points of them into his sides, telling him without words that roughness is a no go.

The next series of thrusts are slower, more careful, and she picks up his rhythm. Moaning theatrically, her eyes wide, she looks into the camera and cries, “it’s too big!” before leaning in and whispering, “after you come, I’m blowing this bastard’s head off. You get the DVD and destroy it.”

Jesse’s beyond hearing her – he’s far gone, and Fi, with her hand between them, stroking her clit, recognizes it. He regains his own control, starts pumping her frequently, starts grunting in her ear. Just as she tenses and squeezes him within her sex and he loses any semblance of rhythm, attacking her open sex, fucking her as hard and fast as the lounge will allow. Dimly, he’s aware of Amatti’s orgasm, spurted over his desk and floor before them.

Jesse's orgasm makes the world a glorious blur of light and color, makes him throw his head back and howl; Fi’s answering whimpers are impossible to mistake as fake – she’s coming again, coming for him, and for once there’s nothing between them but the air, the light.

A long minute passes before Jesse grabs her head between his hands and kisses, kissing her for all he’s worth. Fi’s responding kiss is just a little weaker – maybe that’s intentional, because at that point Amatti reaches for Jesse’s shoulder and pulls.

“All right, get off, lemme see how well you fucked her….” Fiona silenced the rest of his statement by yanking the gun from Jesse’s ankle holster and blowing the top of Amatti’s head off, spattering them both with blood.

Jesse hears her next words through the roar of gunfire. “Say hi to the bastards who helped you kidnap those girls when you get to hell,” she snarls, pulling up her dress.

“Woah, hey!” Jesse cries out, but Fi’s already squirming her way out from beneath his body. She tosses him the gun and only his fast reflexes keep him from becoming another casualty of the fight.

“Keep on your toes,” she suggests, pulling down her skirt. Jesse sits, open-mouthed on the duvet, his condom-covered cock blowing in the breeze. “Oh,” adds Fi, reaching for the camera and yanking the DVD out, crunching it into bits with her bare hand. She smiles. “We’ll keep the memories.”

Jesse smiles back and tucks his oversensitive dick back into his pants. “Maybe we could make some more.”

“If you’re lucky.” She locks and loads her gun. “How lucky do you feel?”

“Like I’ve got a rabbit’s foot in my front pocket.”

“Oh, it’s bigger than that,” she says fondly, fixing her hair. “Ready, then?”

“Ladies first.”

He kicks out the door just as she takes aim with her scope rifle. Somewhere in the middle of the battle he thinks he hears her laughter, and that’s the memory of this night he’ll take with him.