tagLoving WivesThe Girl with a Past

The Girl with a Past


Sitting at the bar, Nick Steel kissed Christina Lords for the first time over glasses of white wine. "You're dangerous," she told him, accepting the kiss, but pushing him away. Her hand stayed on his knee. His hand stayed on the nape of her neck.

"Dangerous? Me? Why?" he asked, leaning his forehead next to hers. Her hair smelled good.

"Because you're a nice guy, Nick. The kind of guy that's easy to fall in like with," she said, looking at him. Her pretty brown eyes were flaked with spots of green, almost like the freckles scattered across her tiny upturned nose. She smiled easily and he could feel the pull of her allure.

"Ever think I might be having the same problem with you?" he asked. A restaurant bar wasn't a quiet or romantic, but the sounds of silver against china faded into the background as the universe shrunk to just them. There was his hand still on her neck, just below her ear, her hand on his knee, and their foreheads touching. Date number three and time to seal the deal. Were they going to be more than just friends?"

"Oh stop it. You don't want a woman like me," she told him, her eyes fluttering away from him, but her hand stayed on his knee. Did she squeeze it? "You know my past."

"I'd rather know your future," he said and she kissed him. He had given her lips a peck, but she gave him a real kiss. No tongues, not yet. Not here in public. But their kiss lasted for more than moment.

"You're sweet," she said.

He started to tell say how sweet she was, but the man standing next to them interrupted. "You're Cindee Sinns!" the guy said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "I'd know you anywhere! You're fucking hot as hell!"

The bartender was quick to react. "Hey, buddy!" he said, leaning between Nick and Christina. "Let's not have a deal here."

Staring with wide-eyes, the man ignored the bartender. "I've seen everything you ever did!" he said, as if fandom or brand loyalty gave him a right to intrude.

Christina groaned and Nick struggled to maintain his composure. "We're trying to enjoy a drink here."

The man noticed Nick. "You know who she is, right? She's Cindy Sins. You seen her movies?"

Nick rolled his eyes, gave Christina a reassuring smile, and faced the stranger. It wasn't the first time he did this. "Dude, I've seen every movie she ever made and the ones that have never been released. Now tell the woman she's beautiful. Tell her you have fun jerking off to her and then give us some space, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," the guy said, nodding his head. To Christina, he stammered, "You really are beautiful. And I, you know, what he said."

"I'm glad you had fun," she told him, never facing him. "Thanks for being a fan."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, cool," the guy said, slipping into creeper status. "Can I get an autograph?"

Nick fielded the question for her. "Sure, buddy. Fifty bucks."

"F-fifty bucks? For what? A fucking autograph?"

"No, for interrupting her time. Time is money, you know that," Nick said, smiling.

"Fuck that," he said, turning away without noticing the bartender moving up behind him. Before storming off, the guy turned back to Nick. "Your girlfriend's a fucking slut." That's when the bartender guided the man way.

"Now, where were we?" Nick asked Christina, putting his hand back on her neck and pulling her forehead back to his. "Kissing, right?"

"No, we were done with that," Christina said. Nick knew it would take her a moment to refocus after the interruption. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be. It's okay." He moved his hand from her neck to her hand. "I sort of like that word 'girlfriend,' though."

"Please, Nick. Don't."


"Because of that," she said, motioning with her eyes to where the fan had been standing. "You don't want to deal with that all the time."

Nick laughed. "How long have we been friends?"

"I know, but it would be different."

"Don't I get a say?" he asked, lifting her chin to see her eyes. "And if you tell me you just want to be friends, I really will watch all your movies."

Christina giggled again. Nick liked it when she giggled, it sounded like light laughter set to music to him. She looked into his eyes. "You've really never seen one of my movies?"

"Not a one. Not even stills from them."

She stared at him, her eyes reading his, searching for the lie. "Really."

"Really, really," he said, borrowing a line from one of her favorite movies, the first "Shrek" movie. She smiled, but didn't stop staring. "How long have we known each other?"

"Since being lab partners in biology."

Nick smiled. He was a transfer student to her high school. Sixteen year old Christie Lords was a band geek with braces and a halo retainer around her head. Pimples mixed with the dusting of freckles across her nose. But she was nice to him. They stayed friends through-out high school, never dating. Nick fell in with the jocks and cheerleaders, marrying Ashley right out of high school. Things went south after that. Ashley was a nagging bitch, badgering him to do something more with his life than community college and never understanding how community college was the first step to something better. Sick of her bitching, he graduated the two year school, joined the Army, and was sent overseas. While he was defending her way of life, Ashley was screwing everything with a dick between its legs. The stupid bitch even wrote "Dear John" at the top of her "Dear John" letter. Laughing, he signed his divorce papers and reenlistment papers on the same day. Three months later, on a whim, he sent Christina an email. For eight years, they wrote back and forth. He followed her career without ever seeing it. He never told his buddies who she was, never shared a picture, and was careful to avoid any porn that featured Cindee Sinns.

Holding her hand, he looked her directly in the eyes. He had nothing to hide from her and knew it. "Tell me if I'm lying," he pushed.

She smiled. It was a pretty smile, but there was a tired, wary look in her eyes. "Why?" He raised his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "Why didn't you peek? You knew. I told you what I was doing. Told you about the awards I won."

"I never told any of the guys who you were, either. None of their business."

"Probably better that way," she said, sipping her wine. "They might have been fans. I used to get a lot of email from soldiers." He nodded. She said she did. And that she always answered the emails from soldiers. Soldiers always got a personal reply from her. "There was a picture attached to that first email I sent you."

"I remember. You were in a bikini, in like a Betty Paige pose. It's the only one I looked at."

"You never looked at any of the cover art I sent you? The magazine lay-outs? Not even when I was in Hustler?"

He shook his head. "That was Cindee, not Christie."

"We're the same person."

"Oh, then I'm still Lieutenant Steel?"

"You could be," she told him, squeezing his muscular bicep before tussling his hair. "Probably need a haircut, though." She smiled again. "I like how you handle guys like him," she said, eyes flickering again to where the fan had been.

Nick shrugged. "Part of the deal, I guess." As they stared at each other the sounds of silver on china and chatting diners again went away. He knew he was pushing things, but he leaned in for another kiss. "Am I still dangerous, girlfriend?"

Christie looked at him for a long beat before telling him, "I had to suck off the producer and the director before they would shoot my first scene." She picked up her wine glass, sipped it, and glanced away long enough to set down the fluted glass. Half a laugh came out. "I was so stupid. I hadn't done anything yet. I hadn't stripped or done a magazine shoot. Hell, not even a wet t-shirt contest."

Stunned, Nick stared at her. Swallowing hard, he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You need to know."

"You wrote me."

"I didn't write this."

"I doesn't matter to me, Christie."

"Good, then you can listen," she said, picking up the thread of her story. "I knew I was auditioning for a porno. I wasn't that stupid. It was after high school, that first summer. You weren't married yet, but you were going to be soon."

"Wait, did you do it because of me and that bitch?"

She shook her head. "No, just giving you the timing. I had to let them make a copy of my driver's license, sign a contract that I was willing to be a sex performer, and then they told me to strip."

"Christina, please."

"The interview was on-site, at a house they had rented for the weekend. In the living room, there were big lights set-up, all facing a white couch. There were a bunch of people in the kitchen, too. Girls and guys. Only two of the guys looked hot, the rest of them were crew. I didn't get it, but I knew it was a real porn set. I knocked on the front door of the house, a fat chick with too much make-up answered the door and asked me, 'What the fuck do you want?'" She paused to laugh, her eyes looking very far away and seeing the past. "That was Brenda, the make-up girl. I think she used to perform, a long time ago. I don't know. But she was nice. Not when she answered the door, but later.

"I told her I was there for an interview and she laughed at me. Told me I was too sweet to want to do this. I said fuck you to her and she laughed again. She was always laughing at something. She let me in, made me wait in the foyer, and that's where I sort of saw what was going on. Okay, not really. I mean, I saw the lights and saw there were people in the kitchen. A younger guy came to get me. I say younger, because it was Scottie, the director, and he was a lot younger than Bill, the producer. I still thought Dan was old. He was probably thirty-five? Maybe a bit older. I just remember that he looked like a teacher to me or something. And Bill, the producer? He was fucking ancient. He had to be like fifty or something.

"Scottie took me to a back bedroom room with a desk, a big leather chair behind it, and two smaller chairs in front of it. I remember those two smaller chairs were like the kind you put in a living room, not in an office. Bill was sitting behind the desk. He smiled when he saw me. He looked like a creeper the way he was looked at me. It was like he didn't have manners. Bill took my ID and did paperwork while Scottie went through a checklist."

Nick squirmed, uncomfortable with hearing more. "You don't need to tell me any of this."

"You said it didn't matter, so listen," she told him, patting his hand. "Don't you want to hear about the checklist?" Nick shrugged. He didn't want to hear any of this, but there didn't seem to be a way to stop her. "He went down a list, asking me what I had done and what I was willing to do." She laughed, blushed a bit and glanced down when she said, "I hadn't done most of the stuff, but I knew what it was. Anyway, after asking about facials, anal, and d.p.'s and if I was a virgin and all that crap, he told me it was time to strip.

Nick flashed back to how Christie would have looked that summer. The braces were gone. Her body was lean and trim from running track. He remember thinking she looked better than Ashley, now his fiancé. He remembered thinking he should have waited for Christie.

"The door was open, to the bedroom I mean. I asked if I could close it and he laughed at me. 'No,' he told me, just staring and waiting. So, I took off my clothes. All of them. Socks, shoes, panties, bra, everything. I didn't do a striptease, I just took them off, like I was getting ready for a doctor's exam or something. Scottie just watched, but that old guy, Bill? He stared at me, licking his lips and looking really excited. Scottie asked him, 'You want to go first?' I didn't know what he meant, but I found out quickly enough. They told me to turn around. Scottie squeezed my ass and tits, as if he was checking produce. He told me I looked good, cute, things like that, but none of it was really sexy. Oh, and he took some pictures of me with a digital camera, too. Then he asked Bill if he wanted to go first."

Nick could guess what was next and tried to stop her. "I don't want to hear this."

"Just listen," she said. Her voice was flat and emotionless as she told him how she sucked off Bill. "He was old, but he wasn't fat and sloppy old. He didn't have a big dick, either, and he came really fast. Then I had to suck Scottie, too. Scottie used to perform. His cock was bigger, a lot bigger. Bill took some pictures while I sucked Scottie. I remember that stupid door being open. I don't know why that bothered me, it just did. I knew someone was going to walk by or walk in and see me on my knees sucking off this guy. At least when I was sucking off Bill, I was behind the desk. But now, anyone could see me. I guess that was the point, I don't know. Scottie kept telling me things like, 'Look at me, honey,' and 'I'm up here.'"

Nick stopped her again. There was a guy sitting behind her, listening. The bartender kept finding little jobs to do close to them. "Can we move to a booth or something?" He nodded at the guy sitting just behind her.

Christina looked over her shoulder. "Hey there," she said. "You watch porn?"

"Sometimes," he said with half a grin.

"Ever see one of my movies?"

"Not that I remember."

Christie gave him a nod before looking at their bartender. "What about you, Doug? You ever seen one of my movies?"

"Maybe," he answered, looking embarrassed.

Christie smiled. "Let me guess, not until you figured out who I was, right?"

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"It's okay. They're out there. I can't change that. And you were curious, weren't you?" He nodded, looking relieved that she understood. "But you did watch one?" Another nod. "More than one?" He nodded again. "Do you remember which ones?" Finally, he shook his head.

"Just watched some clips on one of those porn sites, you know the ones?"

Christie nodded. "Yeah, I know them. The producers hate them. It's okay, though."

Catching how Nick was staring at him, Doug found something to do at the other end of the bar.

"I did my first scene that day," she said, facing Nick again. "Just a straight fuck and suck. Scottie said I did really good. Oh, and he told my first industry lie, too. While I was posing for the still shots, he kept saying, 'Perfect! Cover material!' But that was a lie. I didn't even get on the back of the box. Not that time."

Nick nodded, remembering her emails and how excited she sounded every time she was featured on the box. It seemed to happen a lot. He waited for her to go on, realizing she wasn't telling the story for him, she was telling it for her own reasons. He sipped his wine and waited until he realized she wanted him to say something. "Okay," he offered.

She considered him for a long moment, a smile growing on her face. "Really? I tell you that story and that's all you can say?"

"Pretty much," he said, confused by her smile. "I guess I thought it was one of those stories you needed to tell more than I needed to hear."

Her smile faded. "You don't think you needed to hear it?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Just because I never watched any of your movies doesn't mean I've never seen porn. It's all about the same to me. Fun for its own reasons, but it's not real life."

"It felt real to me when I was doing an anal pile-driver with some donkey dicked stud."

Nick squirmed as he felt the conversation spinning out of control. "Is that what you want in real life, too?" He noticed they had attracted the attention of the man sitting behind her and Doug the bartender.

Christina finished her glass of wine. "Drink up, take me home, and I'll explain along the way, okay?"

Nick settled the tab, escorted her out without interruptions from a fan, and opened the passenger side door for her. It was old fashioned, simple manners; the kind he was raised with, but walking around the car to his side gave him a minute to collect his thoughts. Climbing behind the wheel, he realized he needed more time. "Are you okay?" he asked, starting the car and pointing it back to her house. Christina lived in a modest ranch style house in a nice neighborhood.

"I'm fine," she said, her hand patting his leg in a friendly manner, not a suggestive way. She didn't leave it there. "I don't mind people hearing me talk about my old job, but I don't like talking about my personal life in public." He nodded, giving her space to continue. She stared out her window for a moment, turned back to him, and said, "Sometimes I do like it rough in real life. Not always, just sometimes."


She laughed, just a short chuckle. "Damn you're funny."

Nick didn't feel funny. "Why?"

"You just take everything so easily. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Why should it?"

"I don't know. I mean, it's tough dating vanillas." He need her to explain a "vanilla" was an outsider, someone who didn't work in the industry. "So, most guys who date me fall into one of two categories. Either they are so intimidated by all the things I've done, they can't perform in bed. Or, they think I love everything I've been filmed doing and they want to try it all."

Nick laughed. "Well, I don't know what you've done, so I can't be the second of those two. And truthfully? I don't think I'll fall into the first category, either."

"Come on, Nick. If we do it, you'll be making it with a porn star. Isn't that every guy's dream?"

"Maybe, I don't know. If we do anything, that's not why I'll be doing it with you."

He felt her staring at his profile. He glanced at her a couple of times, waiting for her to say something more. When she didn't, he did. "I like you, Christina. And it's Christina I like, not Cindee Sinns. I don't even know her."

"Watch a movie with me."

"I think we missed the last showing," he said, not realizing the kind of movie she meant until she laughed again. "Oh," he added. "Really?" She nodded.

"I want you to. I want to watch it with you. It's okay if you get hard or want to fuck while we watch. We can do anything you want or nothing at all. But you have to watch at least one scene from one movie with me."

"Do I get to pick the scene?"

Another laugh from her. "Sure, as long as it's not a lesbo scene. I want there to be at least one guy in the scene with me."

Nick sighed as he pulled into her drive. "Okay," he said, feeling the same way he did when the Colonel would pick his team for an especially difficult mission.

Inside her living room, Christina opened a door on one side of her large flat screen TV, exposing a massive DVD collection. "My history," she explained. "Every movie, every scene. Some a repeats on compilation discs, so that wouldn't be a good choice. But you pick. Anything you want."

Nick was stunned at the number DVDs. "How many scenes did you do?"

"The first year, I averaged three shoots a month and finished the year with just under twenty scenes. After that, I stopped counting. I quit three years ago after being active for ten years. Like I said, there are repeats in there. Movies get renamed, remixed, re-mastered, and re-released. I wanted the full collection. I can tell you there are over 400 DVDs in there, if that helps, but I don't know how many are original. Over half?"

"Are they in any kind of order?"

"Not really. I tried to do that, but after moving a couple times, they got jumbled up and I never had the patience to go back through them. There's some order to them, but not much."

Without a way to choose, Nick blindly reached out and pulled one from the shelf. The cover of the DVD showed a PG-13 picture of Christina as Cindee Sinns. The title of the movie was a play on her porn name, "Cindee Sinns Again and Again!" He handed it to her. "Is this one good?"

She flipped it over, glanced at the smaller, more graphic pictures on the back. "Yeah, it's a compilation, but it's all me, so it'll do. It's an all sex video. They usually cut out any of the acting in the compilation discs, but, whatever. Most guys aren't watching these for the acting, right?"

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