Jordan's Second Jobs Pt. 03

Once again, Jordan stood in David's master bath, staring at herself in the floor-length mirror. Her skin was glistening with perspiration, her cheeks were flushed, and her nipples could have cut glass. She looked herself full in the eye, then let her gaze travel down her body to the bright pink mess below her waist. She shuddered and her pussy spasmed involuntarily.

She watched in the mirror as a thick globule of David's come escaped and swung pendulously between her legs. She shifted her weight and the glistening pearl stuck to her leg briefly before sliding down the inside of her thigh. She shook again as she watched in rapt attention, her shaking sending a cascade of come in pursuit down her leg.

Jordan's knees wobbled as she orgasmed on her feet. She leaned over and placed a hand against the wall to brace herself, letting the waves wash across her body.

"All good in there?" David called out timidly, still not sure whether Jordan was a mind-reader.

His voice wrenched her from her post-orgasmic state. Jordan straightened up, then reached for the wet wipes on the vanity to clean herself off. As the cool, soft cloth momentarily quenched the heat between her legs, 'second shoot' echoed in her head.

"I was serious earlier," she said, surprised at how controlled her voice sounded. "You said you would give me riders for each shoot that outlined what we were going to do and how much I was going to get paid. In advance. It makes me uncomfortable that you're already going back on your word."

"That's what these papers are," David responded, sounding annoyed but still uncharacteristically uncertain. She heard papers rustling in the next room for emphasis.

"You could have just said that earlier. But I'm serious when I say I want them up front."

"I was distracted thinking about the changes I needed to make to the cameras and lighting. By the way, are you sure you want to go by 'Nastia Nice?' There was already a pornstar named 'Nadia Nyce' not that long ago."

Jordan bit her lower lip and squinted into the mirror. Pornstar, she thought. That felt weird. "Yes," she called out without explanation.

Her pussy was still bright pink, but there was nothing she could do about that. She decided she would believe him--for now. Her opportunistic high school boyfriend had gone back on everything he'd told her, if he'd ever meant a word of it, but she would reserve judgement with David at least until he proved otherwise. She was no longer in high school, after all, and he seemed to be professional.

David poked his head in. "Can you touch up your makeup? A lot of it rubbed off on the...during the...a few minutes ago." He looked her up and down and his jaw went slack. She looked at him eyebrows raised, but he collected himself and disappeared before she could respond. Was he...rattled? Jordan wondered. It was unlike him to stumble on his words.

Jordan looked at her face in the mirror, sighed, and sat down at the vanity. She worked on redoing the eye makeup in a way that made her eyes seem larger than they were. She'd learned it from a YouTube tutorial. She'd experimented with it a few times before returning today, shooting some video in her quaint little Massachusetts cottage with her phone, and was pleased at how much it didn't look like her, especially with her hair flung about like she'd just been fucked seriously.

It took a lot of time and makeup but she figured she would either get used to it or eventually someone else would do it. Or maybe at some point she wouldn't need it. The thought sparked a familiar tingling between her legs, but she shook it off and concentrated on the task at hand.

She was nearly done when she realized she could faintly hear a conversation somewhere close enough to know what it was but far enough to be unintelligible.

'Second shoot in half an hour' is what David said, Jordan thought. She glanced at the small clock on the vanity. They hadn't yet discussed shooting with someone other than David. In his defense, she told herself, they hadn't discussed discussing that type of thing either. Was it wrong for her to make the assumption?

"Jordan! Er...Nastia!" David called from the bedroom. "How's the makeup going?" Then, "I have a surprise for you!" without waiting for her to respond.

Close enough, she thought, then rose to her feet. She wanted to think or feel something about what was about to happen, but her mind was blank and her heart betrayed nothing. I'm about to fuck a stranger and let him come inside me, she told herself, trying to provoke an emotional reaction.

Nothing--at least nothing emotional. She felt the familiar tingling between her legs instead. She stepped into the doorway and saw three men with David. She stared, speechless. Three new men stared her up and down.

"Holy shit," one of them finally managed to say, bringing quiet laughter and some light commentary.

After the chatter subsided, David turned to Jordan and asked with a devilish grin, "Ever heard the phrase 'airtight?'"

###

Jordan kept her head down at work for the next few weeks, still worried someone was going to recognize her now that several of her videos had gone live. It's true they were were on a subscription platform and there were only a few available since David planned to release a new one each Saturday for the next two months, but she knew the realities of the Internet.

It wouldn't take long for a subscriber to do a video capture and upload to one of the shady forums that preyed on poor, sexually-frustrated, lonely people who didn't realize or didn't care that their cookies were being analyzed in exchange for "free" access to stolen shared content. She estimated she had maybe three or four months before this "second job" was irretrievably all across the Internet.

Jordan let the thought slip from her mind. David had to travel, so she had the last two weeks "off" from shooting. She hated to admit it, but she needed it. She'd shot for hours every night after work and all day the Saturday before David left. Her mind needed a vacation even though her spent body was incredibly still screaming for more.

She had been given a creator account for the website and could check her royalties in real time, as well as how many views her scenes were getting and all manner of other metrics--where the views were coming from geographically, which portions were being skipped, which portions were being rewatched, and everything else under the sun. She didn't care about most of it, and had purposefully avoided royalties not wanting to be disappointed.

Mostly, Jordan watched all of her scenes multiple times and masturbated frequently, especially her "airtight" video. She'd never had three men come inside her at the same time and it had been sublime, even though only one of them had come in her pussy.

She shuddered thinking about it and wrapped her arms around her to feign frigid office temperatures in case anyone had been looking. She causally glanced over her shoulder to scan for observers, then shook her head. Were her thoughts on closed caption? Were her memories played on a monitor over her head? She chalked it up to having not mentally recovered from the marathon week of sex and new experiences.

Truth be told, even though her mind was weary, she was going through some level of withdrawal and she was on the verge of desperation to have a big, warm, hard cock inside her, pulsating as it spread its delicious warmth inside her pussy and...

"Oh! Excuse me!" Jordan ejaculated.

"My fault," the hunched over man mumbled. His eyes grew larger when he looked up to see who he'd bumped into.

Jordan's brow furrowed. What a strange reaction, she thought. "I was lost in...thinking about my project," Jordan offered. "I'm really sorry about that, er...I'm sorry," she stumbled, glancing at his ID badge, "...Mr. Gross...Mr. Grosschwanz?"

"Oh," the janitor said with a wicked gleam in his eye that unsettled Jordan, "just call me Sam, please."

Jordan looked at his ID badge again. "Sam N. Grosschwanz?" she asked, reading his badge, and sticking out her hand. "Nice to meet you. Just 'Sam' not 'Samuel?'"

He looked at her hand for a few uncomfortable seconds then took it. "Petrenko to meet you, too, Ms. Nice. I mean, nice to meet you, too, Ms. Petrenko. Yes, just Sam. My parents were simple folks."

She flinched and stared at him blankly while he shook her hand and grinned. He knew, she thought. Or maybe it was a slip of the tongue. She'd said 'nice.' He'd said 'nice.' It was just a slip of the tongue.

"Anyway," Jordan said, straightening up, "sorry about that again. I'll keep my head up. Promise."

He nodded, still grinning, then shuffled to the side and swung his arms out to indicate she could proceed. She continued towards the lab, a tight feeling in her stomach.

###

"Did anyone ever figure it out?" Jordan asked Carly over her ramen. Even though she was $12,000 richer from the week of shooting with David, she was still acting as though nothing had changed. Certainly not anything financially. It was far more money than she was used to having and an obscene amount to get paid for one week--really one month since she wasn't shooting any other scenes for at least another week--but Jordan liked to think she was sensible.

"No. Well..."

"Oh, my God. What do you mean 'well?'"

"Quiet!" Carly hissed. Dr. Jeremiah looked up at them, but the look on his face was annoyance, not suspicion or recognition. "Like you had no idea that someone might figure it out."

"Who?"

"Someone I went to high school with. I denied it, told him he was a pervert, then ignored him. I didn't care, anyway. Everyone has someone who resembles them and no one has brought it up since. I'm not worried. If I were worried, I wouldn't have done it in the first place," Carly concluded. She looked down and picked at her salad.

Jordan suspected Carly wasn't as confident as she let on, but she was right. Jordan had plausible deniability. She'd seen her own videos. The eye makeup really helped. Even in close-ups, the wild-haired, heavily-made up, cock sucking, filthy-mouthed slut only vaguely resembled her.

"Why do you ask?" Carly whispered.

"What? Oh. The janitor. I bumped into him this morning and he looked at me with this sort of creepy, knowing look on his face."

"Sam? I wouldn't worry about him," Carly said dismissively. "He's just a perv. I stopped wearing skirts specifically because of him. He was always trying to look up my skirt during breaks. He'd purposely sit where he could see under the table and would just stare. I complained once, but my boss is an even bigger perv than Sam. 'There's no crime in looking,' he'd say. 'If he didn't touch you or say something, my hands are tied.' What a joke."

Jordan thought about it and decided to let it go. Sam had, after all, been staring at them during lunch off and on for months. There weren't many females here, anyway. She shrugged and went back to her ramen.

###

"FUCK!" Dr. Jeremiah screamed, then looked around uneasily and his eyes came to rest on Jordan. "Oh, pardon me," he continued sheepishly. "Ms Petrenko? Apologies. I did something stupid with the toner cartridge and now it's everywhere. Can you get an admin to help with this while I go wash up?"

"But it's six o'clock. I was just--"

"I'm sorry to ask, but I'm a mess." Dr. Jeremiah held his hands out. They were completely covered with toner, as were his pants and his impeccably-tailored lab coat. He hustled away without waiting for an answer, cursing under his breath.

"--going to my second job," she finished, but he was already gone. Jordan looked out across the sea of cubicles and didn't see anyone. She wandered through a few aisles and into the break room where she saw a man digging in the refrigerator.

"Excuse me." The man stood with a start and bumped his head on the freezer door, and dropped the soda he was holding, spraying it everywhere.

"Fuck! What?!?"

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Jeremiah made a mess with the copier. Do you know if any of the admins or other staff are here?"

"They all leave at five," the man grumbled, rubbing his head and glaring at her. "The janitor's office is at the end of Corridor B near the cafeteria. You'd better head over there now so it doesn't stain everything. If there's no one there, leave a note."

"Thanks," Jordan whispered.

The man pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm sorry. You startled me when I was already pissed off that my leftovers seem to constantly go missing. Fucking Jeremiah. Why he insists on changing out the toner himself, I don't know. This has to be the third or fourth time he's done it. You'd better go now while I clean this up. The first time Jeremiah did this we had to replace the carpet and repaint the wall."

Jordan thanked him again, looked at her watch, and glanced at the exit...but then decided it might be a career mistake to just leave and ignore it now that two different people had given her some responsibility to handle the mess, including one who had no problem casually saying 'fucking Jeremiah' in reference to the division manager.

She made the familiar hike down Corridor D, through two different sets of security doors, and into Corridor B, heading in the general direction of the cafeteria. She stopped at the cafeteria entrance and looked around, puzzled. There were no signs for the janitor's office.

"Are you looking for me?"

Jordan nearly jumped out of her shoes. "Oh, Sam! You startled me."

"Why is everyone so jumpy around here?" Sam wondered aloud. "Were you looking for me?"

"Sorry, yes. Dr. Jeremiah made a mess with the toner in the research corridor and no one else was around to come let you know, so he sent me."

Sam nodded as his eyes examined her face. "Okay. I'll go check it out, but would you mind opening the door for me? My hands are full."

Jordan glanced at the boxes he was carrying and fought the urge to glance at her watch again. "Sure. Happy to. Er...what door?"

"Oh. Never been to the 'Clubhouse?' That's what we call it as an inside joke. Follow me."

Sam turned and walked over to two soda machines and disappeared. Jordan blinked, thinking for a split second he'd vanished into thin air, only to see his head reappear. "You coming?"

She laughed at herself and followed after him. "I never noticed this hallway here."

"Most people don't, with it sort of hidden between two soda machines, and the paint and lighting making it blend in. It's a weird optical illusion effect. I think they did it on purpose."

Something vaguely sparked in Jordan's mind and she was surprised when her pussy grew warm. She followed Sam as he blabbered away. They walked past several unmarked doors and the hallway took a couple of turns, but it wasn't long before they arrived at the custodial office. It was another nondescript door with a clear mail drop hanging on the wall next to it that had a tiny label with "Custodial Services" handwritten on it.

"Ms. Petrenko? The door?"

Jordan stared at him like he'd grown horns, then roused herself. She really needed to give her mind some time to recuperate. "Sorry, Sam." He stepped aside and she reached for the door. He began shuffling into the door and she was caught in front of him. She stepped into the room and to the side as he walked in and deposited the boxes he was carrying on a table next to the door.

Jordan glanced around what looked mostly like.a storage room. There were gray steel shelves organized into aisles. They held all kinds of supplies, including toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning agents, mop and broom refills, light bulbs, folded uniforms, and all manner of boxes holding who knows what. There was an old beat-up conference table surrounded by an odd mish-mash of old office chairs and what she recognized as one of the now-replaced reception-area sofas against the wall.

Her jaw fell open. There was a medium-sized flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, but it wasn't the TV that shocked her, it was what was on it.

Jordan was on it.

Or rather, Nastia Nice was on it. The cocks in her pussy and ass were fucking in and out of her in unison as she moaned around the cock in her mouth. The TV was muted, but she knew she was moaning loudly.

"The best part is coming up."

Jordan jumped, having forgotten Sam was there. He was staring at her intently. "But you know that, don't you?" he asked quietly. "Website is damned expensive, but it's worth it. Great production. Supermodels who love to slut around. The big black cock version is great, too, but that's not really my thing."

"S-S-S-Sam, this is highly inappropriate! It's against company rules! I should--"

"Report me? But you won't. Because they'd have to examine the material and you wouldn't want them to do that, would you?"

"I...I..." Jordan turned her eyes back to the screen where the men in her ass and pussy had become still as they simultaneously came inside her. David had moved in close enough to get a great view of their pulsating cocks, then moved around to her face as the third man had started groaning loudly. She watched as her eyes rolled back into her head and the man in her mouth pushed into her throat and also came.

Sam watched her with a devilish grin. "I mean, it would be a shame if HR were to see this. Probably a violation of ethics and morality and whatever. I know I'd hate to lose my job over it." His eyes traveled her body slowly. She was still wearing baggy scrubs and hadn't yet changed into regular clothes for her shift at the coffee house, so she knew he couldn't see anything. Her body betrayed her though, as she felt the moisture between her legs.

"It would be a shame, Sam," Jordan said. "I don't want anyone to lose their job."

"I would think a person would do anything to keep their job rather than let something like this follow them around to potential future employers."

"What...what do you think a person would have to do? To keep their job."

"Well, me, I'd do some sort of favor...maybe a regular favor...to show my gratitude."

Jordan's stomach turned as the fire inside her reached a peak. "That sounds a bit like blackmail or extortion."

"Those aren't...nice...words. I prefer to call it a favor. I would be so grateful I would agree to a regular favor for...for the ongoing favor of not being reported." He turned and picked up the TV remote, then began navigating through the TV's browser. "Watched this one yet? It just dropped. These men fuck her in every hole, and then she holds her pussy wide open and they jerk off into it. Some of it gets on her leg, but she uses her fingers to push it into her slutty hole. She really, really loves cum."

Sam unzipped his custodial jumpsuit. He was naked underneath. He pulled his cock out and looked over at her. Jordan looked at it as it grew in his hand. It was thick and red and kept growing and growing...

She glanced at the door and back at his cock. He grinned at her in triumph.

The next thing Jordan knew, she was bent over the conference table, her scrubs at her ankles, watching herself get fucked on the TV, while Sam positioned himself behind her.

"Jesus Christ...you're so fucking wet...it really turns you on to be used like this, doesn't it?"

Jordan felt one of his fingers inside her, his rough skin against her most sensitive parts. Then it was joined by a second. He jackhammered his fingers into her, banging something--a knuckle, his thumb--against her already swollen clit. She arched her back to give her pussy some reprieve from the onslaught and felt him withdraw.

"Ready for it, huh?" he growled.

Jordan stood stock still in anticipation, then felt something probing, then glorious warmth slip into her, stretching her. He pushed slowly and she felt it go deeper and keep going. It seemed like it took him a whole minute, but he was finally buried completely inside her, his cock twitching and making her insides move in surprising ways.