Page 89 of The Casting Couch

Nessa paused mid-scroll, looked at him.

“If this porn’s being made for women… does that mean it’s going to be, uh… straight porn?”

The room fell weirdly quiet for a beat.

And then Nessa howled.

“HA!Oh my God, no!”She slapped her thigh like this was the funniest thing she’d heard all week.“Absolutely not!Straight porn is the problem, baby!”

She jabbed at her phone again, then held it up like it was a glowing tablet of divine wisdom.

“Here.Look.”

She passed it to Jack, who blinked, then passed it to Liam, who blushed and passed it to me.I tilted the screen so Bradley could see too.

A Pornhub analytics chart.Title: What Women Actually Watch When No One’s Looking.

Top result?Gay male porn.Followed by lesbian porn.Straight porn didn’t even make the podium.

Bradley blinked.“Seriously?”

“Two dicks are better than one, baby,” Nessa said proudly.“Women don’t want to see straight porn because it’s all jack hammering, crappy angles and some dude named Chad calling the girl a slut while he forgets she has a face.But two guys in love?Moaning?Crying a little?Taking their time?”She kissed her fingers.“Chef’s kiss.”

Liam nodded, clearly on board.“There’s a whole untapped audience of women out there who are so ready for something real.And hot.And emotionally resonant.”

Jack added, “It’s honestly kind of genius.And the two of you… have chemistry.Real chemistry.You’re not just hot on camera—you’re compelling.”

Bradley ducked his head, and I could tell he didn’t know what to do with that.Like the compliment hit a place in him that hadn’t been visited in a long time.Maybe ever.

I squeezed his hand beneath the desk.He squeezed back.

Just as Nessa opened her mouth to wax on more about women and gay porn, the desk intercom crackled to life.

Jack leaned forward, hit the button.“What is it?”

Petyr’s voice came through, nasal and chipper.

“There’s a woman claiming to be Nico’s mother in reception.Should I send her back to your office?”

ChapterTwenty-One

Nico

My brain short-circuited.

“My mother?”I repeated, trying to make the words compute, like maybe if I said them out loud, they’d start to make sense.“That can’t be right.She’s never even been to New York, and we don’t exactly have a tight-knit ‘let’s-drop-in-on-each-other-unannounced’ kind of relationship.”

Bradley glanced at me, concern softening the corners of his mouth.“You should go see what’s going on.I’ll come with you.”

I shook my head before he could stand.

“No.If it’s really her… I need to know what the hell she wants.Alone.”

His brow creased, and for a second, I thought he might argue.But then he gave a small nod and squeezed my hand again under the desk.

I slipped out of the office, heart pounding.Each step felt like a rubber band pulled tighter and tighter across my chest.I moved through the hallway on autopilot, passing doors left ajar, glimpses of familiar madness peeking out.

In Studio B, two guys were mid-thrust on a squeaky mattress while a boom mic operator casually munched on a protein bar.One studio over, someone was being spanked.And I thought, if my mother actually knew what I do for a living, she’d either drop dead on the spot or try to exorcize me with holy water and a QVC crucifix.

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