Melanie’s first pornographic film had been only ten minutes long. She’d been a beauty queen only a few years out of school, with the kind of figure other women dreamt of having. She’d only dated the older man a few times when he’d wanted to film them “making love” on her twenty-second birthday. “It would be something they could look at when we’re old, and we’ll say,” he’d imitated the shaky voice of a much older man. “Look at us, Melanie. Can you believe we ever looked so young?”
“That’s because I’m still twenty-one,” Melanie had laughed.
“I won’t show it to anyone else, I promise.” The following day he’d copied it, still unable to believe how gorgeous Melanie was and how enthusiastic she’d become once the camera had been running. Why shouldn’t he let some of his sleezy friends see what he had?
“You got any more of this girl?” the director had asked. He watched unsolicited clips all day, and he’d never seen one with a woman like this. Minutes after clicking on her image, he knew he was watching pure gold.
Melanie needed money just then, or she would never have agreed to meet the director. But before she did, she kicked the boyfriend out of her life for good.
Now, more than three years later, Melanie had become Britany Kitty, the biggest name in the industry—anything with her name attached was a guaranteed money maker. At first, the money hadn’t been anything special, but at least she’d been doing what she loved.
When she’d been young, she’d dreamt of having a loving husband, beautiful children, and a large home. Returning to the straight life as Melanie was a fantasy she’d put aside—until she met Paul.
Married life was a little boring, but so what? They could spice things up, and Paul, who loved to watch his wife’s movies, suggested they play a little game. “We’ll go to a bar,” he’d said. “You’ll pretend to be available while I watched men try to pick you up.”
Britany had loved their new game.