Jordan's Second Jobs Pt. 02

Jordan sank deeper into the couch and contemplated that the photo shoot might have just been a one-time second job. A well-paying one-time second job, but a one-time second job all the same. She had them all the time. Babysitting referrals, house sitting referrals, dog-walking, and all other manner of client and job had frequently been one-time gigs. She had her regulars, yes, but plenty of one-timers. She thought about the money and her stomach twisted a bit. It was the best paying job she had--not just the best-paying single job.

Maybe, she thought, maybe I could do it on my own? She instantly felt better then immediately dismissed it. There were sites like OnlyFans and Patreon where women sold their...content?...all the time, but she had no idea where to start or what to do or even how to photograph herself.

Maybe, she resolved, maybe it was just a matter of trial and error? After all, thousands of women did it. Where would she get a partner? Advertise? She would research it, she decided. She was a fucking research scientist. She laughed out loud. She was a fucking research scientist.

Jordan rose from the couch to go find the aging laptop her parents had bought her for college and felt the staccato double-buzz in her pocket, alerting her to a text message. She fished out her phone and looked at the notification.

'David here. Session a big hit with vendors. Will spotlight product across entire platform lineup. Have requests for shoot material. Call to discuss?'

Her research "project" was quickly forgotten. She read and re-read the message trying to clear the fog in her head as a million thoughts pummeled her at once. David must have taken her thoughtfulness for hesitation, because he quickly texted a follow-up.

'Vendor willing to pay for exclusivity agreement. Offering $10k just for agreement. Talk?'

Ten thousand dollars. She'd never had that much money at one time before in her life. Even when she got her student loan disbursement check after tuition and fees had been deducted, it wasn't that much. She stood there staring, half expecting the message to disappear. What did that mean, 'exclusivity agreement?' The phone buzzed and shook her from her thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Have time to talk? I shopped your session around to a couple of my vendors," David continued without waiting for her response, "and they all wanted it. My biggest client is DotDotDot. They're based in Canada and own an array of adult-oriented digital media outlets. The new stuff starts out on a content-specific subscription-only high-gloss website. When the traffic starts to drop, they trim it to extended highlights and those new clips go to several affiliates that allow access for free with advertisements, ad-free pay-per-view, click-to-view, and ad-free subscriptions. When traffic starts to drop there, they cut it up again and add the cuts to the lowest tier, advertisement-only.

I've only had a small amount of content make it onto their high-gloss branded sites and it pays a ton for the small amount of time it's featured. I made $100k off one video last year just from the branded sites alone, and almost another $100k this year as it filtered through their media network. I know they've offered a few exclusivity agreements, but I've never been offered one or, rather, none of my models have ever been offered one. I...are you there?"

"What kind of material?" was all Jordan managed to say.

"Fairly standard escalating subject matter--a few boy/girl scenes culminating in an 'anal sex debut' then anal for a few scenes and then an 'interracial debut' and 'first gangbang' and maybe an 'interracial gangbang.' That was about where the standard broke down a little."

David let his last statement hang in the air. A few pregnant moments passed before Jordan realized he'd stopped talking. "What does that mean?"

"They're starting a high-priced, specialized subscription-only service, for premium-paying customers only. Not a million customers, but a select few. Maybe a few dozen at the most. Not $9.95 or $19.95 a month, but significantly more."

"How much more?"

"They didn't say, but they implied there was en initiation fee and monthly dues, like a country club membership of sorts. I left with the impression that the monthly dues would be five figures. They were trying to gauge whether you might agree to the content."

"What kind of content?"

"They were cryptic, but it was far from standard. I got the idea some of it would be fulfilling subject matter requests from their members, and that it might even include interactions with their members."

"Prostitution?"

"No. I asked the same thing. They assured me it wasn't prostitution but parts of it would have many different aspects. One of the producers mentioned a game show segment. They didn't say. Probably keeping a tight handle on their intellectual property. Are you...are you opposed to prostitution if the price is right?"

"No," Jordan answered, surprised at her lack of hesitation.

"Anything else?"

"When do they want us to start?"

"Let me finalize some details content-wise, but we can shoot another scene as soon as I'm back. It's marketable one way or another, regardless of what happens with DotDotDot. I think they want to be slow in releasing new content but it would be good to have new materials ready to go and--oh, yeah!--how do you feel about the exclusivity agreement?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"It means big money. They expect you to be a star. If they're willing to pay $10k up front just to keep you off OnlyFans or Fansly or whatever, and from their traditional competitors, they probably think you're worth seven figures this year. I'm not your agent and I don't want to be, but you seem pretty clueless when it comes to the business end of this. If it were me, I'd ask them for a hundred thousand and ask for it to expire in six months to see if they'll agree. Vivid made $750k off of three scenes from Jenna Jameson, and that was twenty years ago. Asking gets you information. If they agree off the bat, you asked too low. If they negotiate, where you end up tells you what they think they'll make, which tells you what you might make, and how long they plan to be committed to you, which lets you know how long you can count on them for income."

For the first time, a doubt sprang into Jordan's head. She didn't want to be a pornstar. Someone would find out. Her parents would find out. Four years of college would be wasted. All of the hard work at her job. But a hundred thousand dollars just to have sex?

"I know what you're thinking," David began, "and there are no guarantees that your identity wouldn't be discovered or leaked. But you wear glasses at work, your hair is up in a bun, and you don't have any tattoos, birthmarks, moles, or beauty spots. We can have a hair and makeup artist work on you before each shoot and adjust your makeup in a way that makes it extremely difficult to tell who you are. If you wear makeup to work, stop. We'll make everyone sign a non-disclosure agreement and request that as part of your exclusivity agreement.

I'm not your agent, but I know enough to get you started. And the exclusivity agreement is like a signing bonus. Money up front for signing, and then they'd pay you per shoot. For heavily-produced shoots, top models get $5k per day for the first couple of years then it tapers off because there's so much content out there. If we're careful about how much content you produce, you could sustain that level for four or five years. I think that gets you the kind of financial freedom you want. Then you can just drop out, if you want. There are plenty of people who are in and out in under a year. Aside from that, your ex-boyfriend already has material out there that's clearly you not made-up or semi-disguised."

In her limited interaction with him, Jordan hadn't heard David talk this much and it raised her suspicions even more, but he had a point.

"Did Carly get this kind of offer?"

"She could have, maybe, but her boyfriend got in the way."

"So you think she would have done it?"

"You can ask her yourself, but I think, yes, that's where it was headed. Just to be clear: she got a great reception, but nothing close to the reception your work got."

Jordan's head was swimming. "Can I have some time to think about it?" she finally managed.

"Of course. Think you can make a decision by the time I'm back in a week?"

"I think so. Yes. But even if I don't, I'd still like to do another shoot."

"Great. Perfect. I have no problem doing another shoot regardless, but think it over in the meantime and we'll talk the day I'm back. You're my priority."

"Okay," she said, suddenly feeling a bit of warmth. She'd never been anyone's priority.

###

"Dish!" whispered Carly, in a mocking turnabout.

Jordan peered at her over the modest PB&J and through the even more modest horn-rimmed glasses she'd taken to wearing as her Clark Kent disguise. "I did it," she responded quietly.

"No shit! You did it???"

Jordan hushed Carly and looked around nervously. Everyone seemed caught up in something...other than the janitor, who was causally looking their way.

"Oh, stop it," Carly admonished. "No one pays attention to us. You'd think being the only two women in the entire building that everyone here would be falling all over themselves to talk to us, but they're so absorbed in their projects and funding proposals and on who has the best lab coat that--"

"It's Dr. Jeremiah."

"What?"

"Dr. Jeremiah's lab coat looks the best."

"Of course it does. He wastes money on getting his tailored. But--"

"Tailored? What kind of idiot pays to have lab coats tailored?"

"I know! Right? But--"

"Must be nice to earn the kind of money that can be thrown away on something that stupid, that absurd, that--"

"Stop avoiding the question!" Carly interrupted. "No shit you did it, but...what did you do?"

Jordan chewed slowly and her eyes moved around the room.

"Jesus, Jordan! No one is paying any attention whatsoever to us!" Carly chided again.

"I met with him and did a test shoot," Jordan whispered, staring at the janitor who seemed intent on their conversation.

Carly sat back, exasperated. "And?"

"We shoot again when he comes back from his trip in a few days," Jordan continued quietly.

"And?!?"

"And that's it. I don't know if there's anything else. The lingerie stuff isn't available yet. Not until closer to Valentine's Day."

"No lingerie? So you...did you...did he...do you know what he shoots?"

Jordan continued her slow chewing and scrutinized Carly. Surely she knew and was just looking for confirmation. "Yes," Jordan replied simply, expecting a barrage of questions. The barrage of questions didn't come. Jordan watched as the janitor stood and walked to the trash cans, deposited the remnants of his lunch, and sauntered out of the cafeteria. Carly's face was blank and several quiet moments passed. He didn't give them a backwards glance.

"Nothing else to ask?" Jordan teased.

"That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

"It's...well, I guess...I guess I didn't expect you to actually go through with it."

Was that jealousy? Jordan wondered. "You gave me his phone number. It was just a test shoot that paid. Why wouldn't I go through with it? It's just another second job. Weren't you gushing about the money? And you did the test shoot and kept going back, didn't you? That's what you told me."

"Well...yes," Carly said, blushing.

"And didn't you say you missed it?"

"I didn't say that. I may have said I missed the money." Carly looked away.

Liar. "Well...you could always go back to it and just not tell your boyfriend."

Carly looked hopeful for a split second, then her face dropped. "No, I'm not in shape anymore. Besides, my boyfriend regularly checks the lingerie websites to make sure I haven't snuck back."

Jordan leaned in close and whispered. "You could get your makeup and hair done and just do the porn shoots." A surge of electricity ran through her body from the back of her neck down her spine, making her nipples poke at the padding of her bra, and into the now-perpetual moisture between her legs.

"Jordan!" Carly blushed.

"You didn't do porn? You didn't fuck David and suck his cock and let him come on your face?" Jordan whispered wickedly. Now it was Carly's turn to glance around nervously. "I found your videos in a DotDotDot.com archive Don't worry," she mocked, as Carly's ears turned a deep shade of red, "no one's paying aaaaaany attention to us."

"You fucking cunt," hissed Carly. "I--"

"--sent me into a porn production knowingly and without warning me that David would start with the innocent test shoot and maybe it wouldn't go any further than lingerie while knowing full well that he was going to try to push me into porn? Calm down. I'm not pissed. I am unhappy that you would call me a 'cunt' after a tiny bit of teasing. Granted, it was a bit over the top, but it was teasing. 'Cunt?' I mean...wow. Wow."

"I'm sorry," stammered Carly, ducking her eyes in an attempt to avoid Dr. Jeremiah's now scrutinizing gaze. "It's...it's just mixed emotions about the whole thing, I guess." She glanced around nervously. "Did you...," she started, then seemed to think better of it. "Are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad. I'm serious, though. You should go back to David. Forget what your boyfriend wants. He should feel lucky and want to brag about it, not hide it away. You're not out of shape. You could do it again." Oh, how the tables had turned. Dr. Jeremiah's gaze had returned to the inglorious salad and project tablet in front of him.

Carly stared at her, mouth agape, then stood slowly. "Same Bat-time, same Bat-place tomorrow?" she asked cautiously.

"Sure."

Carly shuffled off and disappeared around the corner. Jordan stayed behind and slowly enjoyed the last few bites of her sandwich. Almost no one was left in the cafeteria, she noted, and slowly spread her legs obscenely wide before rolling her pelvis and pushing her clit against the hard plastic seat of her chair. Another electric shock coursed through her body and her eyes began to close. Did she dare it again?

She glanced around and then grinded her clit into the plastic ridge again. The tiny bit of stimulation brought her to the edge of orgasm. She could come, right here, right now, and no one would know except her. She was surprised at how close she was and how quickly she'd gotten there. Maybe the thought of Carly performing a live sex act in front of her was extra stimulating. Her mind wandered to the brief cuts she'd watched of a younger, fitter Carly taking David's glistening red cock, his come hanging precariously from her chin...

Dr. Jeremiah's chair scratching violently against the floor as he abruptly pushed back from the table where he was seated, noisily stood up, and walked out without so much as an upward glance, but it was enough to snap Jordan out of her temporary insanity. She shook her head, then adjusted her glasses, and followed after him, nearly walking directly into the janitor as she rounded the corner.

###

"Look...in the future just use the fake stuff on my face and my tits," Jordan huffed with exasperation, her breasts heaving.

David glared back at her, breathing just as heavily, his dripping cock suspended a few inches from her chin. "I can't fake a cumshot," he proclaimed. "And there's a certain element of old school fans who still want to see a facial. Internal cumshots might be the most popular thing now, but not everyone wants to see a creampie."

"I played it off just fine," she pouted. "It's in your shot like I wanted it that way, but I'm disappointed. Our agreement was you had to come inside me."

He walked away, cock bobbing with each step and began viewing the preview as if she hadn't said anything. Finally, he agreed. "You're right. It looks fine."

Jordan sat there on the couch in David's giant living room, looking unsatisfied. Her fingers gently traced a path around and between her labia. "How soon can you be ready again?" she asked softly.

"Not too long," he responded absentmindedly as he checked the stills on one of the DSLRs. "But I have a separate shoot set up for you in about half an hour. Can it wait that long?"

"I don't know," she responded absentmindedly. "I'm ready now."

He left the room without responding. Jordan leaned back and brought herself to orgasm, occasionally removing some of the come from her face and pushing it into her bright red pussy. It wasn't the same. She sat up, unsatisfied, and stalked over to the full-body mirror in the corner. She turned to the side and leaned back, doing her best to push her flat tummy out. She patted it with both hands, remembering how it felt to be heavy and how it made her hornier than ever...and how it made her orgasms more intense than ever. She'd had orgasms so intense, she'd passed out. She was addicted. It was why her parents had locked her away...

She knew she would regret it just as she had before, but she wanted that feeling again. And she knew the science behind it. One of her research projects in grad school had covered the level to which life would prioritize sex over food. At its most basic level, food's sole purpose was to sustain life for reproduction. It was elementary. She'd tried to do what her parents had asked...but it was programmed into her DNA over millennia. She couldn't help it. Now she would embrace it, and get paid at the same time.

Something nagged at the back of her mind. "Second shoot?" Jordan called wistfully as she imagined her stretched belly. "You didn't tell me anything about a second shoot." She turned and faced the mirror and watched her reflection play with her pussy. "David? Second shoot?"

David padded back into the room carrying some papers, cock still bobbing in the air with each soft footfall. "Have you considered a professional name?"

She noted his avoidance of her question. "I haven't even completely agreed to all of this. I've only agreed to the test shoot, the first shoot, and this one. I haven't even agreed to your second shoot today. Weren't you supposed to provide me with riders to sign for each shoot? I don't like that you're already going back on what you agreed to."

He pursed his lips. "Have you considered a professional name?" he repeated, again ignoring her. "I can make one up for you, but thought I would pay the courtesy of giving you first crack at it."

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"There are two common myths--that it's name of first pet and name of street you grew up on, or middle name and your first car, but that's bullshit intended to get answers to your security questions."

"'Rambler Tuttle' sounds ridiculous. 'Jordan Alero' sounds slightly less ridiculous, but still ridiculous."

"Right...well, I said it was bullshit." David looked down at the papers in his hand. "Your middle name is 'Jordan?' Ginger...Jordan Petrenko? Ginger Jordan Petrenko."

"You didn't notice before?"

"Are you sure your parents had no intention of you working in an adult entertainment-related industry? That sounds like a stripper's name. Actually...'Ginger Jordan' has a nice ring to it for adult entertainment."

"That's my real name and too close to the name people know me as anyway. I went by 'Ginger' in high school. I started using 'Jordan' after...well, after. People from high school might search for 'Ginger' and people from work might search for 'Jordan,' so those are both out."

Jordan paused, thoughtful. "If I continue to do this--which I haven't decided for sure, by the way--I think it should be something that plays up my Eastern European heritage, like 'Oksanna' or 'Natasha' or something--but not 'Oksanna' because that's too close to what my boyfriend used for me. And are you going to answer any of my questions? You're making me nervous about our agreement," Jordan concluded, finally sounding exasperated.