Chapter 20

I had a very, very, pleasant weekend with my wife and mistress.

No, that’s wrong. Mistress implies that I hid my relationship with Mel from Emma, but that wasn’t the case. Emma not only knew about my relationship with Mel but approved and encouraged it.

Lover. That’s a better word. Mel was my lover. But Mel was as much Emma’s lover as mine.

Truth is, we both cared about Mel a great deal and she was a lover to both of us—together and individually.

And the three of us had a very pleasant weekend together.

Dom had managed to blag some front row seats and backstage passes to Guilty Verdict’s big comeback concert in London. The band had been huge for a short period around six or seven years ago but lead singer Billy Thomas had to go into rehab and they dropped off the radar. Now they had a new album out and this was the first date of a nationwide tour. It was at a fairly small venue in London, and after touring the length and breadth of the country, they would be playing a bigger venue in the capital in three months.

I’ve no idea how Dom managed to get free tickets, let alone backstage passes, but I suspect being a porn star was a major factor. Which self-respecting rock band wouldn’t want porn stars waiting for them backstage? Even if they had just got out of rehab.

So, Dom and Amber booked a hotel room for Friday night, planned to do some shopping on Saturday before going to the concert on Saturday evening. They also had the room booked for Saturday night, but whether they actually used it or not was anyone’s guess.

Which left me alone with my two favourite women for the whole weekend.

We shared a bed on Friday night and my girls made leisurely love to each other. And me.

We stayed in bed far too long on Saturday morning. Or, to be more precise, my girls stayed in bed while I made breakfast, which I duly took upstairs, then we stayed in bed far too long. It was almost lunchtime when the three of us piled into the large shower in our en-suite to soap each other up and clean each other off.

We went for a walk along the river in the afternoon, ending up at Westell Mill for dinner before going to the cinema in the evening. Saturday night and Sunday morning were a repeat of Friday Night and Saturday morning before Dom and Amber arrived back home in the afternoon.

Neither Emma nor I asked what happened after the concert, although Mel got all the juicy details, I’m sure.

I spent Monday morning in the office, filing, doing some accounting and tracking the website statistics. There was something unsettlingly satisfyingly about studying and analysing all those numbers.

Monday was also the day that my scene with the two American starlets, Cindy-Lou and Lizzie, hit the site and it looked early on as if it was going to be another success for our fledgeling production company.

I was due to be back in the studio on Tuesday. And with the way all our shoots so far had gone so smoothly, I really shouldn’t have been surprised by what happened.

Holly Woodward—that’s the young lady I was booked to perform with.

And she was late.

She was on Mel’s list of performers she’d like to work with, but hadn’t had the opportunity to. Judging by the photos on her social media profiles, I could understand why. When it came to women, Mel had just as much of a type as most men do. And Holly was just Mel’s type—tall, long legs, slim but with very prominent curves in all the right places.

I’d had a chance to view a couple of her scenes too and she appeared to be an enthusiastic performer who enjoyed her work. Or she was a very good actress. Either way, she seemed ideal for our needs.

And then she turned up at the studio over an hour late.

Drunk.

And smelling of weed.

Jim was furious. So was I. Although while Jim ranted and raved and told her to sling her hook, I stood to the side and quietly fumed. I didn’t disagree with his sentiment, just his way of expressing it. I’d never been one for giving people a bollocking. I thought it more often than not didn’t have the desired effect.

As Jim continued to rant and Holly dug her drunken heel in and insisted she was perfectly capable of working, Mel pulled me aside and put a different point of view.

“Bobby, let her use one of the other sets and sleep it off, then give her a chance to explain.”

“Why should I? You don’t turn up for work in that condition, Mel! It’s unacceptable.”

“In the real world, maybe. But this isn’t the real world. This is porn. And, sometimes, you need a little something to help you get through a scene.”

I gave her a hard stare. “Have you ever turned up to a set as drunk as that?”

She shook her head. “But that’s not to say I haven’t had a drink before a scene either. Or a little pot. Both can help. And so can certain other things—although I’ll happily say I’ve never needed anything stronger. But it really depends on what you’re going to be doing. Or who you’re going to be doing.”

I shook my head. “I’m not convinced.”

“No, and you won’t be until you give her a chance. Maybe her mistake was mixing the two. One can make the other have a stronger effect on you—it varies from person to person—so if this is the first time...” She shrugged. “Maybe it affected her more than she expected. That’s all.”

I looked over at where Holly was standing with Jim and Daisy. “I’m fine!” she said. “I can do this fine. It’s just fucking. I can fuck, no problem.”

I frowned. Mel obviously saw it. “It’s just the booze talking,” she said. “People I’ve spoken to about her say she’s a good performer. A good worker. Professional.”

“Then why did she turn up like this?”

“I don’t know. And neither will you unless you ask her.”

I took a deep breath and looked around the room—anywhere but at Mel or the scene unfolding on the other side of the room. Holly certainly was stubborn despite her current state—or perhaps because of it.

I sighed.

“Please, Bobby,” Mel said. “Trust me.”

I looked at her. “It’s not you I don’t trust, Mel.”

“I know. But trust me. On this. Let her sleep it off. I’ll talk her into it. Then you can ask her to explain herself. Even if you decide not to shoot with her—and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t—at least you’ll find out why she turned up like this and if it’s got anything to do with us.”

“With me, you mean.”

She shrugged.

I shook my head again. “Fine. We’ll handle this your way. It goes against every instinct I have, but I trust you.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “And when she wakes up, tell her she’s lucky I’m not charging her today’s costs. We going to lose money because of this little stunt.”

“Who says we’re going to lose money,” Mel said with a grin. “It’s not like we can’t shoot.”

I raised an eyebrow. “With who? Do you have a standby booked?”

“Take your pick,” she said. “I’m not doing anything. Neither is Dom or Amber or Emma. Hell, I’m sure I could talk Daisy or even Kat into it given ten minutes with them. Or I’m certain Kat could have someone around here in no time. Relax, Bobby. And trust me. There’ll always be a backup option if you’re the cock on set. Always.”

Mel was right. And she didn’t need to provide backup herself. Nor did I need her to talk to Daisy or Kat or call on any of Kat’s clients because as soon as they heard we planned to go ahead and shoot if we could find a co-star, Dom and Amber demanded they get to double team me—something they’d been keen to do all the way back to last year when we first started making plans for our business.

Their script, such as it was, was simple. I played Amber’s husband and she walked in on me cheating with Dom. But instead of getting mad, she joined in.

My girls didn’t go easy on me. In fact, they didn’t let up for the close to an hour and a half the cameras were rolling. Daisy and Mel looked more than happy with the footage we got and I was personally looking forward to seeing the resultant movie probably more than any I’d been involved to date—other than my debut with Emma.

I was wiped out when we finished, having cum twice during the shoot, once in Dom’s pussy so Amber could suck it out—which was an interesting role reversal of our sessions at home—and then on their pretty faces as they knelt in front of me right at the end. I tried to be fair and paint each face evenly, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

“I’ve come up with the scenario for my first anal scene with you,” Mel said with a cheeky grin as she escorted me to the men’s dressing room.

I cocked an eyebrow. “And...”

“You’re going to play my jealous boyfriend—no, jealous husband—who comes home and catches me at it with some other guy. Then you demand I give up my arsehole in return for not throwing my slutty, cheating arse to the kerb. So you end up fucking my arse while I take the other guy’s cock down my throat. Then the two of you dee-pee me—with you taking the back door, obviously.