Saving My Soul

As for myself, my main source to start with was starring in porn made for women. In essence, I made love on camera though it was all acting. It was actually rather nice, but it was fairly niche and I certainly didn't appear in as many films as Bethany. I'd been in a couple of films with mature actresses, and I found them rather lovely to be with. They were professional, experienced, but were a good laugh before and after filming. More than once, studios approached me to star in gay porn, waving lots of money in my face, but it didn't interest me. Transgender films? I gave it a bit of thought, but too often, they wanted me to bottom in addition to fucking, and I just wasn't interested in it.

I'd agreed with Bethany that, despite what we did for a living, as long as we only had sex in a studio and on camera, we would somehow make it work. But when she started to disappear for an evening, with no invite for me to go along, I knew she was fucking other people. I put up with it for barely a couple of months before I confronted her. And it wasn't just the cheating.

"You're using," I stated, "What is it? Cocaine? I think you're smart enough not to get hooked on heroin or anything, at least."

"Yeah, I am. What of it?"

I laughed bitterly. "Jesus wept, I know we're in the industry, but I honestly thought you were smarter than that. Who gave it to you?"

"Brian did. Said I should just let loose and enjoy the lifestyle."

"So how many other guys are you fucking?"

"I fuck on camera, Mark, so fucking off camera shouldn't be..."

I rose to my feet as I glared at her. She looked genuinely terrified for a second. "Not the face," she whispered.

In that moment, my heart broke completely. She actually thought I'd hit her. "The fact you think I'd hit you speaks volumes of what you think of me now, Bethany. The only regret I have is that I agreed to coming here."

"But why? We're making heaps of money and having a great time. So I like to fuck my co-stars off film? I know you are too!"

"Wrong, Bethany. I fuck on camera and that's it. I leave the studio and come home. I've been home every night this week while you've no doubt been snorting, drinking and fucking. But you know what? I'm done. I could ask you to stop, but I know you won't. But I'm not going to sit back and watch you fall into the abyss."

"You're leaving me?" she shrieked.

"I've already started moving my things out. Loretta is taking me in until I find my own place."

She was one of my mature co-stars. Loretta was her stage name; I won't give away her real name just yet. Sure, I'd fucked her on film more than once, but she was more like a mother figure and I'd spoken to her about my personal problems more than once. "You're moving in with some old bitch when you could have me instead?" she retorted, and I heard her tone.

"I could mention what you've done on film... Ever wonder why I never want to kiss you after you've done particular films? Or why I don't go down on you anymore? Bet you miss that, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered. Me eating her pussy was one reason why so many women had watched our amateur stuff.

"Our intimacy died long ago, Bethany. And with what you've been doing, all you've taken is a massive dump on the ashes. Our lease agreement for this place ends in three months. I'll pay up my share and you're free to do what you want. I am genuinely sorry it's ended like this, but I knew, the moment we boarded that plane, that if we stayed, we wouldn't survive."

Leaving Bethany was good for both of us. Bethany could go and do what she wanted without worrying about me. As for myself? I was single for the first time since I was a teenager, but I had some genuine friends in the industry. And once word of our relationship ended, to my surprise, studios started offering me more work.

After a couple of years, I gave in and agreed to star in transgender films. Again, I was only the dick, the transwoman the star of the film. They were actually good fun to make, the transwoman more beautiful than I expected, but I had to do things that I wouldn't have agreed to a couple of years back. I didn't bottom at all but... Well, the money being thrown my way was too good to turn down.

And, in the end, I went off the rails as well. First it was booze. I fucked for a living, so loved going out at night and getting fucked up. I was now well recognised in the area and women would throw themselves at me, hoping I'd fuck them. Since I was single, I thought 'Fuck it' and happily fucked my night's away. It was difficult to get out of the 'fucking on camera' mode sometimes, but then again, I wasn't making love to these women. My aim was just to get them off a few times and give them a night to remember.

It was one night out with a bunch of co-stars, having my cock sucked by one of Loretta's mature friends under the table, when I was offered a line of cocaine for the umpteenth time. I was twenty-four at the time so it wasn't peer pressure. I was single, loaded, good looking, and could bed any woman I wanted. So I thought 'Fuck it' and did the line. And that's how things started to spiral out of control.

Somehow, I ended up hooking up with Bethany again. We actually starred in a couple of films together for the first time in a couple of years. The second film won plenty of awards as it was the first time we'd made love in a long time, and it was all captured on film. And since we were both doing loads of cocaine, we ended up at the same parties, fucking the same women sometimes, orgies, group sex and the occasional gangbang, and the spiral continued. I was now living in my own apartment with a couple of young women who were hoping to break into porn. They generally lived with me for a few months before moving on. I have no idea where Bethany lived. She was hooked on cocaine and a couple of other things. She was a little strung out, but with make-up and lighting, looked as beautiful as I remembered.

I had just turned twenty-eight years old, an eight-year veteran of the industry. I'd starred in plenty of films. Won awards. Most of my co-stars spoke of me in high regard as I was one of the few men who refused to star in the rough, almost abusive porn, that seemed to be coming more and more prevalent with each year. The sort of scenes I knew Bethany had done more than once. Each time, she ended up at my door afterwards, in floods of tears, apologising to me over and over again. The third time, I'd ended up taking her to ER as the abuse her arse had taken nearly had me in tears as well.

There is a dark side to porn that few talk about. I hated myself. I hated many of the people involved, particularly producers and studio executives. I was a drunk. A coke addict. I had what looked like amazing sex on film but couldn't remember the last time I'd made love. I was now relying on little pills to get me hard sometimes. I loved many of my co-stars, so many of them broken with a plethora of issues, nothing but victims of an industry that destroyed people like them. I looked in the mirror nearly every day and wanted to punch the reflection.

Nearly everything came crashing down the day the police knocked on my door. They needed me to accompany them to the hospital. I asked why but they wouldn't answer my questions. My stomach dropped as I was led inside. I knew when people recognised me, but it was when I noticed the sadness and sorrow in their eyes, that I knew what happened.

"Is it Bethany?" I asked.

It was Bethany. She'd died of a drug overdose. She was at some mansion with a whole bunch of other people. Three others were also dead. Two of them were still in hospital. Three were currently in cells, waiting to be interviewed and perhaps charged. Toxicology still hadn't confirmed the cause of death as she had more than one drug in her system at the time of her death.

"Were you at the party?" one of the coppers asked.

"No. We've been broken up for a few years now. We get together occasionally, but we've obviously both changed over the years."

I ran my hand over her blonde hair and kissed her forehead, not hating myself for the hot tears that dripped onto her. She'd been my first love. To be honest, I hadn't loved anyone like I'd loved her since we'd broken up. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I should have said no. We should have stayed at home."

Leading me out of the hospital, the coppers were nice enough to interview me at my apartment. I knew I had some difficult calls to make. With the time difference, I had to wait a few hours, but by the time I got through to her parents, they had already been notified and were putting plans in place to fly over and retrieve her body.

We hadn't been home since leaving for Los Angeles years ago. Bethany had been living the high life, while I couldn't face my mother, sisters and other women of the family. The only time I felt any shame or embarrassment was the idea of having to sit at the same table as all of them, aware that they all knew what I did for a living. While I hadn't been home, I still sent emails and wrote letters, but I rarely called. But I knew I'd have to call about this.

I lied when I said I'd be home for the funeral. I wasn't going home. I knew her parents wouldn't want me there. But I also knew, in some way, they would blame me for her death. They knew she had been the one who wanted to go, but I had said nothing to stop it happening. I knew her brother would now hate me completely for what happened to his sister.

Meeting her parents a few days later to collect her body was even worse than identifying her body. Her father was in bits. Her brother glared at me with undisguised hatred and anger, noticing his hands ball into fists. I almost wanted him to hit me. At least I'd feel something. As for her mother, she hugged and begged me to come home with them.

I couldn't.

Instead, I saw them off at the airport. Her brother walked through security without a backwards glance. Her father did shake my hand and wished me the best. Her mother pleaded with me to give coming home some thought. She'd already lost her daughter; she didn't want to lose me as well.

Once they were gone, I called a few friends. They were aware of what happened and seemed genuine in their concern for me. We met up a few hours later once night had fallen. I drank, did a load of coke, and found a pair of young women who wanted nothing more than a night of hot, kinky sex. Something just to help me feel some sort of emotion.

I didn't feel a thing. Who would have thought I'd not feel a single emotion despite the fact I had a gorgeous eighteen-year-old on my face and another one on my cock, the sort of thing most men would have sold their soul for.

I wondered if I even had one left to sell.

*****

The incessant banging had me gritting my teeth as it felt like nails were being hammered into the side of my head. Somehow managing to open my eyes, I was left feeling relieved that the room wasn't still spinning. Feeling a body to either side of me, I had to lift my head to see who they were. I almost sighed relief that they were not strangers. The brunette to my left was Melody, an innocent eighteen-year-old from the cornfields of Iowa. She'd moved in a couple of months back, and despite the fact she slept with me, I was steering her away from the sharks that would be abusing her body within days. The blonde to my right called herself Aphrodite, though her real name was Mary-Jane, and she was from a small town near the Rocky Mountains of Montana. She was nineteen and a stripper, hoping to break into the industry. I was subtly trying to talk her out of it, but she was adamant it was something she wanted to do.

The pounding on the door continued. "Get the door, Bruce," Melody whispered.

My name was Mark but, like many performers, I used a pseudonym. Bruce Steele. Yeah, yeah, completely on the nose, but it didn't really matter. I just didn't want to use my real name. Don't know why I bothered sometimes as everyone watches porn and I was recognised everywhere. Those who say they don't watch porn? They do. Maybe not constantly, but they've seen something, and out of the ten biggest films in the last five years, I'd been in six of them. Not as a headliner. The women headline, were on the cover of the DVD or were the centre piece of the website design. But I was one of the 'fortunate' few to fuck some of those women.

Groaning as I got out of bed, if it was the police, I could only be thankful there was no cocaine in the apartment. I was day four into trying to dry myself out for the umpteenth time. I was still an alcoholic, but I figured one vice at the time. First cocaine. Then pot. And then booze.

Slipping into a pair of shorts, I staggered out of the bedroom, glancing across the living room, which was a mess but I didn't really care. I had a maid who'd come clean twice a week, and she was used to cleaning up our messes. Opening the door, I felt my legs almost go out from underneath me as I was greeted by a face I hadn't seen in over eight years, at least in person. Glancing to either side, I saw two more.

Before I knew it, I was on my knees, sobbing, as I felt two comforting arms wrap around me. "It's okay, baby," she whispered, "Mum's here now."

I clutched onto my mother, just in case it was a bad dream and she wasn't really there. At that moment, I was a little boy being comforted after I'd skinned my knee while playing outside. She held me so tightly as I sobbed, I didn't want to let her go. When my older and younger sister joined in the cuddle, I cried even harder. All the agony, regret and sense of loss I'd been feeling just flooded out.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, god knows how much later.

"We're taking you home, Mark, and the three of us will not be taking no for an answer. No excuses. No arguments. No negotiation. I don't care how old you are or what you've done with your life to this point. You're my little boy and you are their brother."

"Why bother? I'm a complete and utter mess. Better off just leaving me here."

She leaned back and stroked my cheek, smiling at how soft her hands were, just like I remembered. "You're more than a mess, Mark," she stated bluntly, "But that's why your mother and sisters have flown all the way across the Pacific to be here now."

Finding the strength to lift myself up, I helped up my mother and sisters, hugging both of them individually, before I stood aside and gestured them in. Of course, at that moment, Melody and Mary-Jane decided to walk out of my bedroom, stark naked. Both squealed and covered up their breasts and groins. "Get some clothes on, girls. I'll make coffee," I stated.

They smiled at me. "Okay," Melody replied, "Um, who are our guests?"

"Introductions will be made once you're dressed. Tea?" They both smiled and nodded. Waiting until they were in their bedroom, I glanced at my mother and siblings. Mum's face was blank, Charlotte was blushing, Sally looked impressed by her older brother. "Coffee? Tea? Something else?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen. "What time is it?" I wondered.

"Nearly midday," Mum replied, "I'll have a coffee, as will Charlotte. Sally usually drinks tea."

"Midday? Hell, that's early for me most days, unless I'm filming."

"Nothing today, Mark?" Charlotte wondered.

"No, I filmed a scene yesterday. Are you sure you want to hear about it?" I asked that question mostly looking at my mother.

"Nothing will shock me, Mark," Mum retorted with a smile, "I'm more than aware of what you do for a living."

"Ah... Yeah, I assumed you would. Guess it's difficult to keep that sort of thing a secret."

"Not when my best friends have seen some of your films, Mark."

I met my mother's blue eyes and saw the humour in them, so the laugh that escaped me felt rather good. "Most of my friends wonder what you'd be like in bed," Charlotte added.

Melody and Mary-Jane walked in, dressed though still showing plenty of skin. After making a round of introductions, my mother rather bluntly asked how old they were. When hearing Melody was only a couple of months past eighteen, having arrived in LA the day of her eighteenth birthday, while Mary-Jane was nineteen and a half, Mum playfully slapped my shoulder. "Mark! They're younger than Sally!"

"He cares for us, Miss... um..." Melody started to say.

"Call me Sandra. I'm his mother, and he'll still call me Mum, at least."

Once I'd made everyone drinks, we moved into the living room, where I sat on the couch with Melody and Mary-Jane to either side. Melody cuddled into me as always, and I'll admit, I felt rather protective of her, trying not to think of her as a younger sister, considering we had sex. But I felt that way about many of the young women who arrived. As for Mary-Jane, she was very much doing what she wanted but I still felt some sense of responsibility as she was living with me.

We made small talk until it was obvious that my mother wanted to talk to me in private but was too polite to say anything to Melody and Mary-Jane. The latter eventually read the room and suggested to Melody they head out for lunch and shopping. They changed rather quickly, both of them kissing me before they disappeared out the door.

"Okay, Melody has the biggest crush on you, Mark," Charlotte stated.

"She's a sweet girl," I admitted, "I hope you believe me when I say I treat her well while she's lived here."

"We believe you," Mum stated, before she sighed, "What happened, Mark?"

Sipping at my coffee, I scoffed. "Fuck, Mum. Where the hell do I even begin?"

"What happened to Bethany?" Sally asked softly, "Why did she die?"

I lowered my head as I didn't want them to see my face. The guilt I carried for her death would never go away. I should have done more to protect her from the sharks that eventually ruined her. I'd had a bad feeling from the get-go that she would have ended up starring in some of the certain films she did, but I had hoped we both would have avoided some of the vices, but in the end, we were both too weak for that.

"We've both made a lot of bad decisions long before we even boarded the plane to come here, Sally. Unfortunately, Bethany paid for one of them with her life."

"Are you on drugs, Mark?" Mum asked.

"I've been taking cocaine for years, Mum. The last snort I took was four days ago. I smoke pot daily but I could quit that tomorrow. I just smoke to chill out. Never done anything with a needle or a pipe. I drink so much, I'm fairly sure my liver is pickled."

"You're giving all that up now, Mark," Mum stated, the tone suggesting I not even bother arguing. Glancing at my sister's, the body language told me I should not say a single word. Just nod and agree, and that they had my best interests at heart. She moved across to sit next to me on the couch, taking my hand in hers. "Do you want to come home, Mark?"

"I have no idea what I'd do."

"We'll worry about that later. Your old room has been given a makeover. Old friends have been calling up, concerned as to your well-being. Everyone missed you at the funeral. Her parents understood why but they were so sad you weren't there to say goodbye."

"It was my fault," I muttered.

Mum hugged me tightly. "Get those thoughts out of your head, baby," she whispered, "I won't blame Bethany either. She was a young woman led astray by predators."

"Maybe if I was there..."

"You could have been in the morgue beside her. Unfortunately, Mark, she made choices that led to her being there that night. No, she didn't deserve what happened to her. It breaks my heart to know I'll be returning home with my child alive, while her parents brought her home to then lower her into the ground. It's not fair."

"When can you leave, Mark?" Charlotte wondered.

Sighing and running a hand through my hair, I had to think about it for a minute. "Um, my current contract is based on films rather than for a certain number of years. From memory, I have another five to ten films to make before I've fulfilled the obligations, otherwise I'll forfeit a large chunk of change. I'll need to call my agent to confirm."