“No problem.”
Seated in the back, I slipped out of my coat and oversized sweatshirt, leaving me in only a sheer T-shirt as the script called for. I quickly pulled my hair in a bun on top of my head and fitted my wavy red wig on top. I’d curled it the night before. Sometimes I wore it straight and glossy, but tonight I was doing a coed type of scene, and I felt wild hair was best.
“I’ll be ready in fifteen,” I called out, swiping on some red lipstick before grabbing my fake eyelashes out of the case.
Grace had no idea what she was actually recommending them for when I called her for advice; she was so excited I wanted faux eyelashes. Sarina had explained they were a must in the industry.
My sisters had also been flat-out excited when I said I was heading back to school early from the holidays. Apparently, my presence stressed Mom out, which spoiled the holiday for my sisters. Bitches. I could only imagine what they’d say if any of them found out why I’d hurried back to school.
“Hey, Ari,” I heard from toward the door.
“Hey, Ricky,” I called back. Tricky Ricky, my partner for the night.
That’s right, I was now a full-fledged member of the porn world—Ariel Stone in the flesh. In only a few short weeks, I’d been dubbed Queen of the Titty Fuck.
Oh, the power of the Internet.
I was living out my thesis, making a quick name for myself on the Internet and paying my bills while doing it. And all the while, I was writing a book, a book that would twist Stanwick’s knickers. When I was tossed out of the program, I’d gone into deep-research mode, and my thesis paper had transformed into a full-length book.
Bitch.
Meeting Sarina has been a lucky break for me. Turned out, she was a single mom living in the middle-of-nowhere, Ohio. Originally from Arizona, she’d followed some guy to the Midwest, and he had his fun with her until he knocked her up. Then she was stuck all alone with nothing more than a GED and a screaming newborn. She’d tried working at a grocery store for a while, but the hours sucked and the pay was worse.
Then she met Frank.
After that night she first took me to the set, we met for coffee. Over a big piece of cake, of which she only took one bite and I ate every last crumb, I told her all about the three S’s that had ruined my life.
Stanwick.
Steele.
Sonny.
After hearing my story, she agreed to introduce me to her world and help me expose the harsh realities of why women stayed in the porn industry. How it helped put food on the table and afforded women time to be with their children.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath before dusting a fine layer of pale pink glitter onto my cheeks. It had been Sarina’s idea for me to try out in a skit, and the thing went berserk with five-star ratings. She’d suggested I keep going but hold true to my hard limit—penetration—and make some money on the side while learning exactly what went on in the adult-film industry.
I knew it would isolate me from the entire women’s studies world, but I couldn’t help but feel compassionate toward Sarina and her friends. They were women too, and how could I really write an exposé without going undercover?
So Ariel Stone was born and the real Caterina Presto was found—the Catie with a new purpose. I finally had a mission, a cause, a place to call my own. I’d been looking for that my whole life.
I also knew it was the last thing on earth Blane Steele needed in his life with the league calling. Maybe it was self-punishment on my part; I didn’t fucking know. What I did know was Blane would have no use for me when I finished with this project.
As if Blane Steele wants me in his life.
I frowned at my reflection, hating when I thought about Blane at work. Sometimes I got so wrapped up in thinking about what would happen if he knew about this, tears stung my eyes.
Tonight, I shoved any thoughts of the six-foot-four baller out of my mind and took a deep breath. It was a new year and a new me. What had started out as an experiment to prove Stanwick wrong, a way to prove my theories correct, was slowly turning into a way of life.
“Let’s go, kids. I got a party to get to,” Frank hollered across the room.
“Me too,” Ricky yelled back, rolling his eyes.
Frank had turned out to be an okay guy. He produced the videos on the cheap and passed a lot of the profits over to us; it was how he kept good talent. We made money, and he made more movies and even more money.
I dusted a little glitter over my boobs and puckered my lips, making sure my lip gloss was even before I headed out to the set.