Up until a couple weeks ago, we were the average, middle-class family living a modest but stable life in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Mom, dad, my brothers, sisters and I certainly weren’t rich and the rising cost of living in California was actually making us take cuts in our lifestyle but we were doing o.k. compared to others in less fortunate parts of the metro area. And then, my father lost his job.
It was a lousy, unfair situation: Dad was an engineer at a manufacturing plant in L.A. He had just turned 60 and after a 35-year tenure at the company, he was suddenly dismissed without warning for performance issues. That was the story but he was sure that he was pushed out because of his age since all the hires the new leadership were bringing on-board were straight out of school or guys from India on H1-B visas who could be paid less than my father. And, to make matters worse, the company was contesting his unemployment claim which meant that other than a meager few weeks severance, he had no income coming in. That was my father’s situation.
My mother didn’t work. She had been a homemaker since she and dad had gotten married and started to have kids. I, the youngest had just graduated high-school so it’s not like she needed to be at home for some time but dad’s income had always been enough and mom didn’t have any job skills that made her attractive to employers other than domestic work which so far, she wasn’t getting any call-backs — another case where we figured her age was working against her and not to mention, all the low-wage competition from Mexico in the area.
My brothers and sisters were all married with kids on their own so there weren’t excess mouths to feed in the house. As for me, I was applying for jobs at various retail and restaurants but like mom, wasn’t having much luck with call-backs for interviews. Needless to say, my plans for college were on-hold.
Thankfully, our house was paid for, but the taxes had jumped considerably year-after-year, along with utility costs and the general cost of living. We were according to mom, a couple weeks away from having to apply for public assistance or the food pantry. Selling the two cars wasn’t an option because this is L.A. and if you don’t have a car, getting to a job is difficult, if not impossible.
“How was your day Brad?” mom asked, trying to keep some sense of normalcy at dinner.
“It was good,” I lied. “I filled out an application today at the new grocery store being built over in Lakewood.”
I did fill out the application, but I wasn’t the only one in line to do so and the demeanor of the woman who briefly interviewed me was enough to subtlety tell me that they weren’t interested.
Dad was very quiet during dinner with just a few ‘yes’ and ‘no’ responses when he was asked a question. He clearly wasn’t hungry and that could be said for mom and myself, but we all put on a good face and still had a dinner of macaroni and cheese with tap water to drink. Oh, how we had fallen.
After dinner, mom and dad retired to the living room to watch TV while I went to my room to go online and see what type of jobs I could find. As always, I checked my email first and noticed one that was a reply to a, um, unusual ad I had applied to last month.
“Hi Brad. Thank you for your application to be one of our models. We think we have an opening for you and was wondering if you can stop by tomorrow for a quick interview? Below is the link to our address. Please arrive at 10:00.”
Wow! This was a bit of good news I certainly wasn’t expecting. Last month, before dad lost his job, I was comfortably looking at porn sites and saw an ad for models. What red-blooded, newly legal young man without a girlfriend wouldn’t at least look into the possibility of being chosen to act in a porn film with hot girls. Hell, most of the porn today was amateur anyway and the standards for the guys wasn’t as high as it was for the girls so what did I have to lose?
I stirred in my pants a little thinking about the possibilities — and the money we needed. But what would I tell mom and dad if I actually got the job? I would worry about that later but all I could think of now was getting there by 10:00 and making a good impression.
The next day, I showered thoroughly, made myself look presentable and then headed out for Van Nuys early knowing that traffic would be bad. I had butterflies in my stomach the entire way and tried to do breathing exercises in the car to get myself together. If I showed up nervous, they’d take notice and tell me to get lost.
I wasn’t expecting a porn studio to be in a nice office park and this was no exception. The GPS was taking me down a commercial strip with several empty strip malls that had weeds growing out of the parking lots. It was in one of those strip malls that I was directed and down the way from the discount grocery store, pawn shop, empty stores, takeout Chinese and a few more empty stores was the door with the address on the window.
“Oh boy,” I said to myself. “I hope I’m not getting into a dangerous situation.”
The door was locked so I rang the caller to the side. It was 9:50 so I was just in time.
“Yes,” a woman’s voice said.
“Hello, I’m Brad Burrows,” I said. “I have a 10:00 with Kelly.”
Bzzzzzz, the door hummed, and I was on my way inside.
Inside I went. It looked like a sleazy scam operation, kind of like an accounting shop the mob would set up for appearances only to have the phony accountants selling drugs in the back instead of preparing tax returns. I looked around the sparse waiting room which just had a couple cheap chairs and nothing on the walls. The door ahead was locked so I couldn’t go further, and I took my seat assuming Kelly would soon be there.
The door opened and there was Kelly. She was a middle-age, tired looking woman who had a “don’t mess with me” look to her.
“Hi Brad,” she said with her curt, New York accent.
“Hi Kelly, nice to meet you,” I said, extending my had.
Kelly seemed surprised that someone was being so polite. She cracked a half-smile, gave me a weak handshake, and told me to come on back.
We went down a dark hallway past a few closed doors and into her office which reeked of cigarette smoke.
“So,” she said, looking at some papers. “You want to be a porn star?”
“Yes,” I responded.
“You ever done this before?”
“No, the ad said that amateurs were welcome to apply.”
“Yeah, yeah but we gotta know what we’re working with. Fucking on camera with a director in your face telling you to go and then stop, go and then stop is easier said than done.”
I didn’t think about that, but it did make sense. My experience with girls was actually non-existent since I was still a virgin, but I wasn’t going to reveal that.
Kelly fired up a cigarette and continued her line of questions.
“Your application says you’re six inches hard. Is that right?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I hope that’s o.k.? I mean I know porn stars are bigger but… you did respond.”
“A good cameraman can do a lot with the right angles,” she fired back, looking at me like I should have already known that.
“Stand up,” she said.
I responded.
“O.K. Brad. I know you already submitted a picture, but I need to see for myself. Take it off.”
“Everything?” I asked.
“No honey,” she snapped. “Just your insecurity.”
I didn’t dare engage back. Kelly obviously had a short fuse, so I stood up and started to take off my shirt, shoes, socks and my khakis. I was down to my boxers and slid them off, leaving only my birthday suit for Kelly to take or leave.
She looked me up and down then stood up and walked around me.
“Well,” she said. “I don’t think you lied about your dick size. Looks like it might reach six inches when hard.”
Oh man this was uncomfortable.
“Stay right there and don’t get dressed,” she said as she exited, closing the door behind her.
Those butterflies in my stomach were back. What had I gotten myself into? Kelly wasn’t welcoming at all, and I was losing faith that I’d driven two hours for nothing.
As my stomach churned and my heart raced in the silence of Kelly’s office, I started to hear a younger woman, moaning and calling out obviously fake orgasms. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but I was coming into reality that I was inside an active porn studio and a movie was being filmed somewhere within the walls of the phony storefront.
Kelly returned shortly with a sleazy-looking guy with a thick moustache, big belly and like Kelly, a cigarette in his hand.
“What do you think Vince?” she said to him as he walked up in my face, then back to see me in full view and then around to check out my rear view.
“Hmmm,” I heard him say.
That didn’t sound re-assuring.
“How old are you ummm… what’s your name?”
“Brad,” I said. “And I’m 18.”
“Did you verify his I.D.?” Vince inquired to Kelly who nodded an affirmative.
“Put your clothes on kid and sit down,” Vince told me.
Oh, thank God, I said to myself. This was very uncomfortable, and I was now questioning whether this whole thing had been a bad idea.
I got dressed quickly while he started talking.
“I’m Vince, one of the directors,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you, you’re not porn star material. You look o.k. but you’re not terribly handsome — sorry Brad, it’s the truth.”
This was not looking good, but I wasn’t going to interrupt.
“I don’t think you’d be comfortable or all that good with one of our girls on camera. However… I do have something that I think you can do but we are shooting in half an hour.”
“I’m listening,” I replied, tying my shoes.
“I need someone to play the role of a cuck. It’s pretty easy: you get verbally treated like shit by a beautiful chick who’s supposed to be your girl. All you gotta say is “yes mistress” so there aren’t any lines to rehearse.”
This wasn’t what I had in mind when I applied but I told him to continue.
“You don’t get to fuck her, nor get your dick sucked — sorry! You do have to get naked, wear a chastity cup and watch her do it with another guy. Pretty easy role. No emotions. You are playing a guy who is a gutless sad sack.”