Page 129 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Neither did I.” When their eyes fall on the man beside me, I jump. “Oh, this is Lance Kixxx. Lance, this is Penny Pepper and Vera Connor.”

“Nice to meet you.” Miles holds out a hand and they exchange greetings.

“So, why are you with a Vegas company?” I ask. I don’t have any experience with pro shoots yet, so I have no idea how thisworks.

“Oh, our videos are slated for release later this year,” explains Vera. “So we’re promoting the company prior to that.”

“Come over, we’ll introduce you!” Penny grabs my hand and practically pulls my arm from its socket in her attempt to get me to the booth faster.

I recognize the man seated in one of those foldable chairs you see at kids’ baseball games–the cloth ones that are next to impossible to get out of and super uncomfortable for my particular shape. Long Ron Wilson has more than ten years of experience in the industry. I’ve admired him for a while now. He’s covered in tattoos, including a few on his face. Nearly every inch of skin below his neck is inked with a variety of designs, none of which seem to flow together. He’s tall, probably Miles’ height if my judgment is correct. His tousled, nearly too-long, brown hair always seems to look as if he’s just been fucked. The flecks of gray in his short beard are new, but then again he might have simply stopped coloring his facial hair.

Penny’s grip on my wrist verges on painful, but when we reach Ron, she drops it. He smiles, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling with the expression.

“Hey, Pen, who’ve we got here?” He looks me up and down, but only in a way that seems as if he’s trying to figure me out. There have been plenty of times I’ve felt fetishized or objectified by a look like this, but not with this man. With him, it’s friendly, even innocent.

“This is Honey Dee Vine,” says Penny. “Honey, this is Long Ron Wilson.”

“I love your work,” I blurt. I have enough sense not to slap my hand over my mouth, but Ron just continues smiling and stands, offering me his hand.

“Thanks, I think I’ve seen a bit of yours. You worked with these beautiful ladies recently?” He nods at Vera and Penny, shaking my soft hand in his weathered one.

“Yeah, we worked together in New York last month.”

“I think I caught a post about it and I took a look. Have you worked with any pro directors?”

“Er, no, not yet.”

“Maybe we can change that.” His eyes land on Miles and I see him do the most cartoonish double take. “Lance?”

“Hey, man.” Miles has been standing silently behind me, patiently waiting to be noticed. He steps forward, placing a hand on my lower back.

“Hey, been a while.” Ron folds his arms across his chest and grins. “LA, right?”

“Yeah, Honey and I are based there.”

“Right, right.” Ron nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Who did we shoot with?”

“It was an orgy,” says Miles. I send him a sideways glance. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that he’s done that. A lot of men in the industry do group scenes at least once. Some even make a habit of it.

“Oh yeah. Good times.” Ron returns his focus to me, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a business card. “Here, take this. Give me a call sometime next week and we’ll get you to Vegas for a shoot if you’re interested.”

“That would be amazing.” I accept the card and tuck it into the side of my purse.

“Enjoy the convention. I’ve heard there are some great performances tomorrow.”

Just as Miles and I are leaving the Exxxess booth, I see the huge banner for Gargantuanal. Directly below it, Talia Sins is standing between two men–clearly fans–who have their arms around her waist on her bare skin, posing for a photo. She’s wearing a bright blue string bikini and matching pumps. Her blonde hair is tousled in soft waves and it looks like she’s wearing extensions, given her shorter ponytail at the party last week.

When the two fans begin walking away, having gotten their photo with her, Talia’s eyes fall on Miles and me. She waves us over, grinning ear to ear.

“You found me.”

“We did,” Miles chuckles. “Quite the outfit.”

“I know, thank goodness it’s warm in here.”

Before I can pipe up, my phone vibrates in my purse. When I pull it out to check the screen, I see that the number is blocked but there’s no warning about a potential scam at the top.

“I’m going to take this,” I mutter, finding my way to the edge of the marketplace before Miles or Talia can protest. The Gargantuanal booth is among the outer row, so it’s a quick walk. “Hello?” I ask into the receiver when I find a spot. I plug my opposite ear to hear better.

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