The Porn Star Next Door

I'd reached the ultimate in my education, I thought. I was a true scientist, but had no idea how a new neighbor would change my life. I also had no idea how I'd respond to the pretty woman that moved in next door to me.

I walked across the stage, my black gown swirling around me in the mild breeze. This wasn't the standard graduation gown. Mine had special piping and dark blue velvet on the black sleeves, and along the front zipper. I also had a colored hood around my neck that hung to my waist; the colors appropriate to the university. The colored hood had just been placed there by the Chancellor and Provost, and then they shook my hand. Also, atop my head, I wore not the standard mortar board that the undergraduates wore, but a black tam with the same gold piping. I was finally receiving my doctoral degree after eight years in college. Many of the faculty on the stage were similarly dressed. I got a round of applause from them.

My parents had flown down to witness the completion of my formal education. My father had suggested for years that I might want to get a 'real' job, and at this point, I had. I chuckled, because I couldn't postpone it any longer. In two weeks, I would have left the cloistered halls of academia and started working at CyberShield Security or CSS as a senior fellow. I had taught some computer science courses to supplement my full-ride scholarship, so I'd been considered part-time faculty -- a 'temporary' job.

My job for CSS was in sunny and warm Sarasota -- on Florida's Gulf Coast. I'd been there twice for job interviews and was impressed with the small city and the sprawl of nice neighborhoods. CSS was based in an industrial park just east of town. I was to bring my expertise in artificial intelligence and cyber security to the company and help secure their customers' equipment and data security in an increasingly hostile electronic environment.

On a third and last visit to CSS, I'd been set up with a real estate agent who helped me find a nice condominium near the center of town. I wanted to be near the downtown and be able to walk to pubs and restaurants, and even to a grocery store. I'd asked the agent for a water view, and she'd gone me one better and my new abode on the top floor looked out over the city marina, across the bay and some of the barrier islands, and then into the Gulf of Mexico. I had a spectacular view from my balcony and living room. I also had a mortgage about the size of Asia.

Also, there was no doubt that this was not your everyday apartment. Not bad for a twenty-seven-year-old, but I decided to over-spend on the place since I'd be making more money than I'd ever envisioned starting the first of the month and I had faith in my future earnings potential, including promotions up the CSS chain.

I filled my car and a small trailer with my few possessions from my off-campus apartment and left my university town. Three days later, I had moved into my new condo and had a few furniture deliveries scheduled for later in the week. I used my free time to get to know the city and where important things were. I lined up a doctor, dentist, bank, and a few utilities.

After I was established, I got into the swing of things with some of the recreational activities in the region. I bought golf clubs and signed up for lessons. I'd always wanted to fly, so I started taking lessons. I made visits to the local beaches until I'd found a favorite.

In all of my activities, I was alone. I did not have a partner; never had. Sure, I'd dated, but nothing serious. I was a nerd with a relatively low social IQ, and now, having the engineering Ph.D., I was a Super Nerd. I knew that I could try the online dating circuit, but that scared me a bit, so I planned to leave it alone and see what happened. I figured that fate would ultimately seal my destiny. How right that turned out to be.

I was not immune to the pleasures of the flesh. I doubt there was a porn website that I hadn't discovered and prowled around, at least the free-access sites. I certainly liked good-looking women; I was just too shy to ask any of them out.

Historically, my sister had provided some of that motivation. I'd been set up on dates with some of her friends, but I always kept things above board, even when I got signals that a girl wanted more from me. My focus had been on my studies, plus I worried about what 'more' entailed. I also didn't need one of her friends reporting more than necessary back to my sister.

Cindy, my older sister, had pulled me aside after the graduation ceremony and given me an intense lecture on creating 'work-life balance'. "This means that you leave work at work except between eight a.m. and five p.m. In other words, bro, get a life!" I took her words to heart. She headed back to her new home and husband on the west coast the next morning. I didn't know it then, but I wouldn't see her for another two years or more.

I thought the golf and flying lessons would help begin my new life, but according to Cindy they were holding actions until I really got 'real' balance. I didn't argue with her. I suppose that was part of my passive-aggressive response. I'd just motor on and see what happened.

* * * * *

Work was wonderful. I loved CSS and my new colleagues. Further, they were lagging in terms of using any A.I. to guard the safety and security of their customers' business. I'd have fun changing that. That was the reason I'd been hired.

My first order of business was in threat detection and analysis. I started working to use A.I. to analyze in new ways the various data we had on each customer and the anomalies that might indicate a threat to their secure and accurate information flows. One financial client estimated that they had nearly a billion attempts a day to break through their firewall.

I was well into the subject after my first month, and had expanded my remit to include user and system behavior patterns. I already had made some modifications to the core monitoring software that CSS used with each customer. I got good feedback from Ross Davis, my boss, and the team that I was on. They liked my contributions and I liked working with them.

One Friday, I got home to my new condo about five-thirty. To my surprise, I found that three burly men from a local delivery truck were bringing up the last of a van full of furniture into the apartment next to mine. I asked one of the moving men who was moving in. He smirked and said, "Sarah Carter it says on the manifest. She's a looker. You're next door, huh? You lucky dog. You'll see." He winked at me and then picked up an end table by the elevator and carried it into Sarah's apartment.

I did 'see' as I strolled past the door of Sarah Carter's apartment on the way to mine. I glanced in and saw the absolute beauty of a young woman about my age. I assumed it was my new neighbor. I froze and just stared on her: long blonde hair framing her face, dark eyes, busty, and yet thin with gorgeous legs showing. She wore a crop top and Bermuda shorts and tennis shoes. She was directing two of the men on where to put a piece of modern furniture.

I kept going to my unit next door rather than stare and embarrass myself. I had planned to eat out that night, and so after changing clothes into something more casual and checking my mail, I headed downstairs and out of the high-rise building. I did not see Sarah on this trip; her door was closed. The moving van was also gone when I got to the ground floor.

Saturday, as I was heading out the main door into the parking area about noon, I spotted my new hot neighbor. She must have just arrived back at the condo from a shopping trip. Two things were noteworthy: first, the car she was driving was a pearl white Porsche 911 Turbo, and second, she was trying to combine bags so that she could get all her groceries upstairs in only one trip. My assessment was that it wasn't going to happen unless she had a grocery cart of some kind. You can't put ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag.

I got the courage and gumption to introduce myself. I walked over and said, "Hi. I think we're next-door neighbors. I'm Doug Mallus. I'm in 1504." I gestured upstairs towards the top of the condo, admittedly the high rent district. The top two floors were considered to be penthouses.

Sarah stopped organizing bags and shook my hand firmly. "Hi, I'm Sarah -- Sarah Carter." We shared a few neighborly words about her new arrival. She then sighed in resignation and looked at all the groceries. I offered, "How about I help you upstairs with your groceries, if you'll let me." I gestured to the pile on the seats and floor of her expensive sports car.

Sarah looked surprised -- like really surprised. "Really? You'd do that for me? Me?" She sounded amazed that anybody would help her -- of all the people on the planet, it seemed. Her remark seemed particularly personal, as though people would help others, but not her specifically. I'd only understand that later.

"Sure, neighbor. Come on." I reached into the car and picked up about eight of the poorly packed plastic grocery bags, four in each hand, and headed for the pedestrian door into the elevator foyer. Sarah had picked up the rest and came after me at fast clip. I observed and she was really cute and girly -- sexy in a girl-next-door kind of way. Well, she was next door and to say she was sexy serious understated the adjective.

I got us into the elevator and upstairs as I mouthed more words of welcome and how nice it is to have her as a neighbor. I set the bags on the floor just outside her condo door and bid her a pleasant day. In the process I said, "I'm headed out to have lunch at the Cantina. I'll see you around." I kind of kicked myself for not asking her to join me, but then I acknowledged that I'm sort of social misfit and nothing would have come of it except my further embarrassment in front of gorgeous young woman that probably had three-dozen men wrapped around her little finger.

I had just gotten inside the elevator and as the doors closed, she yelled in at me, "Thanks!" She was waving frantically at me in a nice gesture and with a big smile.

As I passed her Porsche, I examined the adult toy closely. The car was almost new and even outside the car, I could smell the new leather seats. I guessed that Sarah had money or a sugar daddy. She was certainly beautiful enough for the latter. I sighed and kept walking towards the restaurant. My bomb of a car sat a few rows away.

A week later there was a Meet-Up in the large common space of the condo building. The purpose was so that people in the building could come and meet each other. Not everyone came; only about half the building, I'd been told, but I figured that I should go and meet some of the other neighbors that I see around the place.

As I headed out of my unit to go downstairs to the party, Sarah was just going into her unit from someplace. I asked, "You going down to the party?" There had been signs up all over the place and in the elevators.

Her response puzzled me. "No. I don't think that I'd be very welcome there." She shrugged in resignation, and then disappeared into her unit with a wave over her shoulder.

I went on to the party and met about half the building. I also learned a few things about the history of the building and got the scoop on the HOA. I was pleased to learn more about my new residence and to meet many friendly people.

My next interaction with Sarah came on Sunday morning a week later. I decided to take a run around the bayfront in the city and across the bridge to some of the barrier islands. With my desk job, I needed exercise a lot. As I came out of my unit, Sarah was also emerging dressed for jogging.

"Will you jog with me? Remember, I'm Doug Mallus, your next-door neighbor." I asked. I surprised myself with my forward nature with the pretty girl. Where had that gumption come from?

"Really? You don't mind being seen with me?" Sarah said in that amazed tone, again.

"No. Besides, running with you will dress up MY image," I jested. Sarah was the hottest looking woman in running clothes that I'd ever seen. Actually, in any kind of clothes. She had her long blonde hair back in a ponytail tucked through the back of a Dodgers baseball cap, snug running shorts that hugged her magnificent ass, and a sports bra that was going to have a hard time containing the rest of the merchandise. Further, I noted that she had several geometric tattoos along one arm in an artistic pattern. One word summed her up: Wow!

"Then yes, if you don't run at an Olympic pace. If I'm too slow, you can go on without me." Her smile lit up the daytime sky.

We got outside the building, did some stretches, and then started jogging down towards the sidewalks running along the waterfront and marina. Mostly, we were running side-by-side. I think we ran at about the same pace with neither of us holding back.

I asked her, "Where'd you move here from? I think everybody in Sarasota is from someplace else."

"I came from Las Vegas, but my original home was in Northern California, up near the border with Oregon. Pretty country but rainy. I'd also lived in L.A. for a while."

When we talked as we jogged, awkwardly given our panting from the exercise, but we learned a little more about each other. I told her about my new degree and job and tried to spare her the nerdy details. At least she seemed interested.

Sarah wanted to get a job locally, if she could. She had a bachelor's degree in finance and accounting from a college in Vegas that I'd never heard of. I assured her that there were dozens of places looking for her skills. I even offered to put in a good word for her at CSS. She again gave me that surprised look that I'd offer to help her.

We eventually got about six miles into our run. We were near a restaurant that I'd discovered that made great omelets. "Hey, why don't we stop and have breakfast or brunch. Come on, I'm buying. We can walk home from here; it's close."

Sarah was reluctant but I grabbed her hand and led her towards The Station -- a breakfast and lunch place with a model train running overhead around the large dining room decorated with lots of old train pictures. Because of our mode of dress and sweat, we got an outside table.

Suddenly, Sarah worried, "Money. We haven't got money!"

I reached behind me into the one pocket on my running shorts and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and showed her. "This should cover us unless we go overboard on coffee."

She laughed and relaxed. She said, "I never carry money with me, but I suppose I should in case I pull up with an injury and need a taxi."

We ordered and I told her about my penchant for trying different restaurants rather than cooking on my own. She agreed that was a laudable goal, but she said that she held back because she 'didn't want to be seen'. That remark puzzled me.

As our food arrived, I finally asked, "You seem surprised that I would help you, you didn't want to go to the condo party because you didn't think you'd be welcome, you're seemingly amazed that I'm friendly to you, you don't want to be seen in public, and I'm sitting here wondering why? I think you're wonderful."

Sarah flashed me a panicked look and then looked away. She bit her lower lip and then came back to me. She said in a near whisper, "If I tell you, I'll lose you as a friend -- the only friend I have here." Tears flooded her eyes, but didn't break down her cheek.

"No, you won't," I insisted. "You could say nothing that would make me reject you as a friend and good neighbor. Do you specialize in axe murders, or something?"

She toyed with her food and looked between her plate and me. I think she was testing the sincerity of my statement. She said, "I think I can trust you, but a couple of our neighbors in the building already know. I expect they'll tell others and then the rumor mill will take over and you'll know anyway. I like it here. I don't want to have to move again because of prejudice or gossip."

I took her hand and squeezed. "What'd you do?"

"My stage name is Candy Sweet." She made the statement as though that name would tell me all there was to know. The name meant nothing to me.

I shrugged, "So, you were an actress of some kind?" I obviously didn't recognize the name. My head canted to one side asking for more information.

Sarah sighed and said, "I've been doing pornography for the past eight years -- longer actually, but some of the early stuff was illegal. I'm a porn star- or was."

I shrugged again, this time forcing myself to keep my response pretty neutral. "Oh, that's all. Cool. I bet that was a lot of fun, assuming you got to do what you wanted." Where that remark had come from, I'll never know, but she didn't look shocked at my response to her potentially shocking statement.

Sarah looked surprised again, "You don't care?"

"Only that a nice girl like you got to do what she wanted or needed to do and that you weren't forced into it. I'm sure you know that you're beautiful, so modeling would certainly be on your dance card. Doing it in adult productions would have been just one of the many avenues available. I'll bet it paid better, too." My verbiage actually amazed me.

She mumbled, "It did. I saved money like crazy all that time because I knew the bubble would burst someday. I did finally splurge on my car and on the new condo, and they're completely paid for. No debt. I've never owed money on anything; well, except for my monthly credit card bills, but I've always tried to pay those off each month."

"A prudent person destined to go far in life," I ventured with a sweep of my hand in a grand gesture. "And just to confirm, I am still your friend and I agree with your financial philosophy." I paused and said, "Am I allowed to ask questions about your past, or are you trying to totally forget it?"

She nodded, and I wasn't certain of what that meant relative to my questions. I was curious, "Did you have a specialty?"

Sarah finally laughed for the first time. It was a great laugh and obviously my question was out of the blue in some way to her. I went back to eating my omelet but glanced at her. God, she was so pretty.

Sarah finally said, "There's a progression and various paths in porn videos. You can see it in the films and short videos made by most of the girls that stay in it for any length of time. When you're fresh young meat, it's straight fucking, sometime two or three men at a time. Then comes anal sex, and then sex with another female involved -- eating each other. There are sex toys or you can get into BDSM -- that pays even better, but the clientele is more limited. Then there are gangbangs, and then more creative settings for fucking -- even some exhibitionism, perhaps. All of that is for the camera, so to speak. I eventually got into more romantic movies that were erotic, but at one time or another spent time doing each one of those mentioned specialties.

"Beyond that there are appearances to promote one's videos and then there's escort work, because horny rich guys like to fuck porn stars. That pays really well. I made $25,000 one long weekend, plus I flew in a private jet to Cabo. I also stripped for a while, but the money isn't as good as you'd think."

Sarah studied me. I think she was trying to shock me to test my resolve to be her friend. Her last remarks had a lot of potential shock value to them. Again, I kept things pretty neutral, which, honestly, was about how I really felt about her line of work. She found a niche job and filled it; there was just a lot of sex involved.

I nodded. "Pardon me for asking, but you are as hot as the surface of the sun. Why'd you stop, or haven't you?"

"No, I have. I always worried about a financial cushion for myself. My father is long gone, we were dirt poor, my mom doesn't give a shit about me, and my kid sister is in no shape to help if I were to get in trouble. I may need to help her, but she's getting established, too. Maybe that's why I went into finance in college -- my need to keep track of money. My money! Anyway, when I finally had the cushion I wanted, I bought my last few 'big' pleasures -- the car and condo were budgeted -- and then decided to try what I call a 'normal' life."