tagRomanceA Means to an End

A Means to an End


Greetings, readers! This story is another one-shot story I've written for Literotica's 2017 Summer Lovin' contest. I hope you will read, and if you enjoy it, I'd appreciate a five star rating. Thanks for your readership!


"I don't know, Bobby... are you sure I'll like this?"

"Come on, Jaime. Don't leave me hangin' girl..."

"But, I'm not sure what to do?"

"It's easy, babe. Just pretend it's a big lollipop."


Ever so slowly, Jaime began to stroke the massive cock in front of her. Her grasp was tentative and her hands trembled. She had never done anything like this before. As she began to lick the tip, a million questions and worries entered her mind. What if she wasn't any good? What if she was too good, and this was all Bobby ever wanted to do with her? What if her parents caught them? Despite her fears, she slowly began to take his length in her mouth. Inch-by-inch, she began to engulf him, being careful not to bite or scratch his shaft in the process. A little pressure from her cheeks, and it wouldn't be long before he-


In an instant, the entire cast and crew relaxed, setting their equipment aside for the moment.

"Bobby, that was perfect. Jaime, what the fuck was that?" the director snapped.

"What do you mean, Mr. Macho?"

"You're one of the best cocksuckers in the business, and that's the best you can do?! Gimmie a fuckin' break!"

"I was trying to remain in character," Jaime explained. "I may be a master of giving blowjobs, but the Jaime in this story is not. I wanted that to show in my portrayal of her."

Rocco Macho sighed in exasperation. "Take ten, everyone. Jaime, walk with me," he said, waving at her dismissively.

Jaime Little rolled her eyes, catching a look from Bob Shock, her costar. He knew as well as she did how impossible it was working with an asshole like Rocco Macho. Still, he paid well, better than almost anyone else in the porn industry. A contract with him was typically too lucrative to turn down, though Jaime was beginning to wonder if it was all worth it. Grabbing her pink satin bathrobe and smoothing out the braided pigtails of her auburn hair, she sauntered down the hallway toward Rocco's office. The tall man with poorly bronzed skin stood at his desk, head down in frustration.

"Mr. Macho?"

"Come in, close the door," he replied. "Trying to remain in character?! What the fuck is that, Jaime?!"

"An acting choice," Jaime replied, trying to hide her incredulity.

"Acting choice," Rocco snorted. "When are you gonna get it into your empty head? You're not an actress; you're a model! I pay you well to model on camera, say a few lines at my direction, and that's it!"

"But if I can help improve the product-"

"NOT your call!" Rocco shouted. "This is my film, not yours. I call the shots. You don't do anything without my say so. You piss when I tell you, breathe when I tell you, and fuck who I tell you. And if you've got a problem with that, we can just nullify your contract with my studio."

"You can't do that!" Jaime protested.

"Oh no? Read the fine print," he countered, tossing a copy of the contract to her. "It's in all my contracts. Section seven, paragraph three: any and all creative decisions are to be made by the director. Creative changes are not to be offered by the actors or crewmembers; the director will solicit their advice should it be needed. Any creative changes made by an actor during production, commonly referred to as 'improvising', can be considered a breach of contract."

"Son of a bitch..." Jaime muttered.

"It's all right there. I've got you for breach of contract with that little stunt you tried to pull out there. But hey, I'm a nice guy," he continued, walking close to Jaime and placing a hand on her cheek. "I'll let it slide this time, if you promise to be a good little fuckslut from now on. It's the last day of filming, after all. No sense in destroying everything we've done so far, right? But make no mistake; I'll yank your paycheck and everything you've got coming down the road if you so much as think of going off script. Is that clear?"

Jaime felt him tilt her head up by the chin to look him in the eyes. She didn't immediately respond, still processing everything that was happening.

"I SAID IS THAT CLEAR, BITCH?!" Rocco roared, delivering a painful slap across her face.

Jaime stumbled to the floor, whimpering in pain. Taking a deep breath, she collected herself and stood to face Rocco.

"Yes, Mr. Macho. I understand," she managed as she fought back tears.

"Good. Take five, get yourself cleaned up. You look disgusting," Rocco said, pushing her out the door of his office.

Jaime hustled to her dressing room to straighten out her hair and clean her makeup. Standing in front of the floor mirror, she sighed at the image staring back at her. Jaime was, in a word, petite. She was not even five feet tall with long hair extending down to the middle of her back, which shimmered in the perfect shade of auburn. Her lithe, thin body was fit, supple, and milky white; Jaime had never been able to tan due to her Irish heritage. Her pretty, impish face was a sight to behold, barring the streaks of mascara beginning to form.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime mustered up as much courage as she could and returned to the set. She completed the rest of her shots as best as she was able, but her heart wasn't in it anymore. Once they had wrapped, Bob made a halfhearted attempt to see if she was alright, but a glare from Rocco soon convinced him to leave her be. At last, as everyone was leaving for the day, Jaime found a moment of quiet solitude in her dressing room. Pulling out her cellphone, she dialed one of her most frequent contacts.

"Alexis? It's Jaime. Can we meet up tonight? I really need someone to vent to."


"He did WHAT?!"

"It's true..."

"Oh my god... are you hurt in any way?" Alexis probed.

"No, I'm fine. He wasn't trying to do any damage," Jaime replied.

"Seriously, you need to think about suing him."

"Are you insane?! He's way too powerful! Besides, it'd just be my word against his; there's no physical proof."

"You're saying nobody heard anything?"

Jaime shook her head. "No, his office is soundproofed. I figured it was mainly for... extracurricular activities, but it works for this, too."

"Shit... there's really nothing you can do?"

"Not that I can think of..."

The two young women sat for quite some time in the Starbucks, as they so often did. Three years ago, when Jaime had first moved out to California to start work as an adult film model, Alexis Forrest had been her first roommate and her only true friend. Being three years older than Jaime, Alexis had quite a bit of experience in the industry, helping her new friend learn the ropes and making sure she didn't find herself in dangerous situations. As they sat across from each other, Jaime couldn't help but laugh at how different they were: she, the short, petite Irish girl, and Alexis, the tall, curvy brunette with some of the largest natural tits in the business.

"Damn... I wish I could help you somehow," Alexis muttered. "I'd gladly ask my producer to bring you on with his studio, but they're producing big-tit and MILF films almost exclusively nowadays."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be a good fit there," Jaime admitted.

"I have to admit I'm pretty impressed that you're still able to play the barely-legal roles at your age. I mean, you're almost twenty-two, right?"

"Yep, in two months." Leaning forward, Jaime said in a lower voice, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course, girlfriend!"

"I... I really hate playing these barely-legal roles. I know they're super-popular and make great money, but I feel like I'm just pretend jailbait for all these pervs with secret fantasies about underage girls. I really wish I had a more womanly body, like yours. Then I could move on to more dignified roles."

"I know what you mean, but it's not all that and a bag of chips. Just because I can play more mature women doesn't make the roles any more dignified. Let's be honest; there's not much about our work that helps our dignity!"

The two women shared a laugh at that one.

"All the same," Alexis continued, "I do still love what I do, but what about you, Jaime? Are you still enjoying your time out here?"

"I mean... this has always been a means to an end for me. Work a few years, save up a bunch of money to strike out on my own, have some fun and see California in the process. That sort of thing."

"I find it interesting that you didn't say you love this work," Alexis replied with a knowing grin.

"Yeah... I guess I'm not sure what I want. I know, I'm such a girl, right?"

"How much do you have saved away?"

"A lot... more than I'm comfortable saying out loud," Jaime said sheepishly.

"Seriously?" Alexis asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Yeah. I've lived on the cheap ever since I first arrived here in LA. Tiny apartment, no partying or drinking, home cooked meals..."

"And no boyfriends," Alexis reminded her.

"There is that," Jaime giggled.

Leaning forward, Alexis took Jaime's hand from across the table. "Listen to me. You're in the prime of your life, Jaime. I know you're working hard and saving away money for the future, and that's a wonderful thing. But we both know you aren't enjoying life right now. If you keep going like this, especially after today, you're going to have a complete burnout. It's not about if, it's about when."

"You're right, of course," Jaime sighed.

"Start with a vacation. Get out of town, clear your head and think things over. Figure out exactly what you want to be doing everyday. Where are you most relaxed?"

"Well... I've always loved the beach, even though I don't tan."

"Oh, you poor thing. You've got a young, tight body and gorgeous red hair, but you can't tan. It must be sooooo awful for you," Alexis teased her.

"It is awful! It takes me twenty minutes just to apply sunscreen!" Jaime giggled.

"But seriously, that's perfect. Take a couple of weeks, go to the beach, and see if you can gain some perspective on everything."

"Only problem is the other people on the beach. Any of them along the California coast are gonna be filled with guys who'll recognize me. At best, they'll want an autograph, and at worst, they'll expect me to fuck 'em right then and there."

"So go somewhere else!" Alexis said. "I used to vacation with my family all the time in the Florida panhandle growing up."

"Florida?! With all those hicks and rednecks?!"

"Oh, grow up, Jaime. It's not like you're moving there permanently."

"Yeah, but... all those tourists. Won't someone recognize me?"

"I doubt it," Alexis said. "This time of year, every beach is going to be packed, and Florida is about as far away from California as you can get. Nobody's gonna be looking for a pornstar out there!"

"Guess that's true."

"Still, I'd stay away from Panama City; you'll get claustrophobic around that many people," Alexis advised, pulling out her phone. "Let's see... here it is! We'd always go to Apalachicola for our family vacations. White sandy beaches, fewer people, but still close enough to civilization that there's plenty to do."

"Sounds perfect. I'll check my budget at home tonight and buy a plane ticket."

"Jaime, this is gonna be just what you need. And who knows? Maybe you'll hook up with a cute boy down south."

"God, if only I were that lucky..."


"Good afternoon, Miss Little. How was the beach today?"

"Just perfect, thank you. I appreciate the tip on where to go; not nearly as many people out there as I was afraid there would be," she told the hotel clerk.

"My pleasure."

"Oh, can you recommend a good spot for dinner within walking distance? Preferably somewhere that'll let me wear my bikini top in lieu of a shirt."

"Of course! If you turn right out of the hotel's beach entrance and walk about a quarter mile, there's a beach bar and grill named 'Steve's on the Bay'. Nice place, casual enough for beachwear, and great live music."

"Sounds great! Thanks, Tiffany!"

Returning to her room for a bit, Jaime took a moment to make sure she hadn't gotten sunburned too badly at the beach. To her relief, she appeared unscathed, thanks in no small part to the large umbrella she had purchased on her arrival. Discarding her beach towel, she slipped on a pair of blue daisy dukes to go with her canary-yellow bikini. A quick retying of her ponytail, and she was ready for an evening out.

The walk down the beach was pleasant and refreshing. A warm breeze blew off the Apalachicola Bay, helping with the June humidity of the Florida panhandle. As she had done throughout the day, Jaime made sure to keep her sunglasses on, warding off the possibility that someone might recognize her. Soon, the crowds began to grow and she could see a straw-roofed building over the next dune.

"Must be the place."

Stepping inside the establishment, Jaime found it to be a bit nicer than she had expected. She wasn't sure what she did expect, but not a warm atmosphere with a bar and tables made of faux driftwood. Various pictures adorned the wall behind the bar, depicting what Jaime assumed to be the owner with various high-profile visitors from over the years. Some she didn't recognize, figuring them for country stars by the guitars and cowboy hats, but she did see pictures of Conan O'Brien and Anderson Cooper among them.

"Welcome to Steve's!" said a middle-aged man with grey hair and a potbelly.

"Thanks," Jaime replied, taking a seat at the bar. "Corona with lime, please."

The man's smile shrunk a bit. "Need to see some ID, little lady," he said with his thick southern drawl.

"Of course!" she answered, quite used to this song and dance.

"Hmm." The bartender inspected the California driver's license for several long seconds. "Looks legit, but you'll have to forgive my skepticism."

"I completely understand," Jaime replied. "I know I don't look it, but I really am twenty-one."

Eying her for a few seconds more, he said, "Yep, you sure are. I can always tell when someone's lying to me. It's what won me the down payment for this place in Texas Hold 'Em, after all!"

"I believe it! You look like the last guy someone would want to meet in a poker tournament."

"Here ya are, Corona with lime. Name's Steve, by the by."

"I assume you're the Steve that owns the place?"

"For fifteen years now!"

"I can see. You've had some serious visitors over the years," Jaime observed, pointing at the pictures on the wall.

"Yeah, there's Tim McGraw, Luke Bryan, Kenny Chesney..."

"Who, who, and who?" Jaime giggled.

"Yeah, you ain't from around here. I'm guessing country music ain't too big out in California?"

"Certainly not in LA."

"That's too bad. You got no idea what you're missing. Course that may not last too long."


"Band's settin' up," Steve said, pointing to the stage. "And my son's the lead singer. If anyone can make you a country fan, it's him."

Before Jaime could even think of a reply, the band struck up the bluegrass opening of Zac Brown Band's The Wind. As they vamped over the opening chords, the lead singer stepped up to the mic to introduce the group.

"Evening folks, I'm Craig McNeal, lead vocals, guitar, and mandolin. That's Sarah on fiddle, James on electric guitar, Antonio on bass, Audrey on keyboard, and Sean on the drums. And we are..."

"The Bums You Wanna Know!" the band shouted in unison.

"Gonna start ya off with some Zac Brown Band," Craig continued. "Enjoy!"

Jaime was mesmerized as the band launched into the tongue-twisting lyrics of the song. She fully expected a bunch of old, toothless rednecks in wife-beaters and overalls. Instead, she saw six people only a bit older than her who appeared... normal. Hearing the excitement in their performance, Jaime felt invigorated for the first time in a long time. She was experiencing something new and different that she never would have seen otherwise, and she loved it. By the end of the first chorus, she managed to slow down and actually listen to the story the song was telling.

The city lights will light the country sky
We're staring at the stars turned upside down
I wish I may, I wish I might
Find it in your heart to stick around
I hate it had to end this way
Tomorrow is a brand new day
And the chances of seeing love
Are precious few
If someone's out there waiting
For a sweet good time and a lady
To make you smile like I always wanted to

Where the wind blows babe
You can bet
I'll be riding high with it
Holding on for my dear life
Just like I always did

Close your eyes babe
Take a breath, say my name
And I'll be there
My love will find you anywhere
Anywhere my love

It dawned on Jaime the dichotomy of the song: the peppy, upbeat music masked the sorrowful lyrics. The music excited her, but it was also a sad tune of unrequited love. Either the writer dwells on it to his detriment, or allows the wind to move him on to wherever his next destination may be. Yet even in moving on, he knows she will always be his true love.

"Huh... who knew country music was so deep?" Jaime mused.

"Sounds like Craig's got him a new fan," Steve chuckled as he wiped a glass dry.

"Maybe... hey Steve, what do you recommend to eat?"

"Definitely our Cheeseburger in Paradise," he replied. "Normally, we wouldn't be allowed to sell it under that name; Jimmy Buffett's got it trademarked for his song and restaurant chain. But after he came here and tasted mine, he said if any burger was worthy of the name, this was it."

"Hmm, not really on my normal diet... oh fuck it. I'm on vacation!"

"That's the spirit! How ya take it?"

"Medium-well with a slice of cheddar."

"Comin' right up!" Steve said, heading for the kitchen.

Jaime sat back and continued to listen to the band. In particular, she was drawn to Craig, the lead singer. He looked like the typical boy-next-door, with his cropped black hair and clean-shaven face. His white skin had a slight tan to it, but he clearly didn't spend too much time in the sun. Still, the most striking thing about him was the sheer enjoyment on his face as he performed. When he and his band mates got into a zone, it was as if there was no audience at all. They were just playing to have a hell of a good time.

Not to mention he's cute as holy hell, Jaime thought.

As Jaime munched on her burger and fries, Steve made his rounds to the bar and tables, chatting up a few of the regulars. Every so often, he'd work back around to her stool to check in on her. Normally, Jaime stayed alert for creepy older men, but Steve seemed to only be keeping an eye on a young female on her own in a popular vacation spot. He kept up conversation with her, asking what she did in California. She of course kept the details to a minimum, saying she was a small fish in the film industry, working as needed until she saved up enough to strike out on her own.

"And what does striking out mean?" Steve inquired.

"I'm still figuring that out," Jaime giggled. "But I have to admit that Florida's growing on me."

"As long as you can handle hurricane season, it's a fantastic place to live."

"How goes it, Dad?" came a voice.

"Craig! Great set tonight," Steve replied, fist-bumping his son. "Y'all playin' again later tonight?"

"Nope, got another local band closing out the evening." Smelling the remnants of Jaime's dinner, he smiled and said, "Ooh, that smells good... I'll have what she's having!"

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