Double Huge:A Twin Stepbrother Romance(8)

I could hear my brother typing away as he looked up the site.

"Damn that motherfucker," he growled. "I'm going to take care of this.  Melly, don't worry," he said. "Stryke and I are on it. Just sit tight  and don't worry about a thing."

I hiccupped and said goodbye, weary and mentally exhausted, getting in  bed despite the fact that it was only 5 p.m. I could hear pings on my  laptop, the relentless dings becoming a veritable storm of chimes until  in a rage, I got up and slammed the lid shut.

I knew what it had to be. Thousands of dudes reaching out, commenting on  my tits, ass or worse. Now that my body was in the public domain, it  seemed that the world owned me, shaming me, groping me with its  metaphysical hands.         

     



 

Oh god I moaned, burying my head in my pillow, hot tears starting again.  How could this have happened? I was an innocent girl, a freshman at  Trinity, trying to earn money for tuition. How had it gone so wrong? How  would I ever face my peers again? I cried myself to sleep, the  devastating revelation only subsiding as the darkness of sleep took  over.

But things were only worse the next morning. As usual, a copy of USA  Today was delivered to our door and I opened it up to find the headline  screaming: "IVY LEAGUE STUDENT TURNS PORN STAR: Have tuition increases  driven our girls into a life of sin?"

With trembling hands, I forced myself to scan the article. Oh my god, I  was on national news, dubbed "The Trinity Whore." Plus, they had slipped  in my real name, Melanie Jones, and given away my address. I'd been  doxed. The floor came rushing up at me as I collapsed into a heap.





CHAPTER TWELVE


Saxon




We flew her out as soon as we found out. Our sister had been victimized by someone, although it's still a mystery who.

"Wasn't me boss, nuh uh," said Ralph over the phone. I could almost see  him chewing his cud, he was so fucking gross. But he had a point.

"Why would I endanger my living?" he asked. "You pay me good money to  scout girls, I fuckin' love this job, why would I throw it away?"

"Because, you fucking asshole, journalists pay for scandal, it makes or  breaks their careers," I snarled. "Did some fucking reporter come by the  Donkey Club looking for a scoop?"

I could hear him chewing.

"Naw," he drawled. "Naw, nothing outta the ordinary."'

"Well nothing better have happened," I raged into the headset. "You lost  control over those videos and now a little girl is destroyed!"

"What the fuck?" ground out Ralph. "She was lookin' to be a porn star, this is a step in the right direction."

I stopped to consider his words. There was some truth to that, to be  sure. Many a reality TV career was launched on the back of an illicit  sex tape, but Melanie wasn't a Pam Anderson or Kim Kardashian. She was a  sweet co-ed, trying to earn money for tuition. She was smart and  resourceful, not total hos like those women.

"Listen," I said wearily. "We're keeping an eye on you. DON'T FUCKING LET ANYONE INTO YOUR OFFICE!" I roared into the phone.

"Got it, boss, got it," Ralph mumbled, before hanging up.

But I wasn't so sure that he got it. We'd dispatched a PI in New York to  trail that skeezeball, figure out what the fuck had happened with  Melly's tape. In the meantime, I'd encouraged her to fly out to LA.

"Listen baby, it's bad, I know," I soothed. "Why don't you come and hang  with us? Stryke and I miss you, and you were going to come back  anyways."

"I know I was, as soon as exams were over, but Saxon," she cried, "what  do I do about right now? Everybody looks at me when I walk by now, I'm a  pariah," she sobbed tearfully into the phone.

My heart broke. How hard it must have been for an eighteen year-old girl  to realize that her college career and future job prospects had  probably just been flushed down the toilet. That's what the adult  entertainment industry does. Good-bye to a white collar job. These days,  with social media and all that whatnot, Melanie would likely never be  able to escape the claws of her past.

I was floored. I didn't know how to comfort her except to say, "Come to Los Angeles honey. Everything will be better here."

And feeling hopeless, our baby agreed, due to arrive in a few days.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Melanie




The firestorm had only intensified, raging hotter as word spread that I  had a double life as a porn star. Lauren and I had stopped by a bar one  night to grab some dinner and as soon as we walked in a girl eyed us and  went over to her friends, looking over at me as they spoke in hushed  tones.

I felt so awful.

"Lauren," I whispered. "This is embarrassing. Those people," I whispered shame-faced, "they're talking about me."

"Do you want to go?" she whispered back. "We don't have to stay."         

     



 

But it would be like this no matter where we went. So instead I held my  head up and walked through the restaurant, sliding into a booth by the  window.

That was a huge mistake. Everyone in the restaurant literally craned  their heads to get a look at me. Plus, passerby could see me through the  big window as they walked outside, doing double takes when they  realized who I was. One guy even stopped in his tracks, pointing me out  to his friends before laughing nastily.

Then there were the comments themselves. When our burgers came, the  waitress asked silkily, "You're so skinny when you're naked, where do  all those calories go?"

I cringed inside. In the video I'd been a healthy, curvy woman but I'd  lost weight recently due to stress. My figure was now like a rail  because I was unable to eat, unable to focus on anything but the tragedy  of my life. It made me feel ugly.

Even more upsetting, it seemed that comments about my body were fair  game now, even if they were disguised at compliments. Just the other day  a woman I didn't even know said, "Love that outfit, the color suits  your bush down there."

I'd stood stock still, my face burning, unable to even put together a  response. The woman had merely sniggered before running off with her  friends, leaving me dying inside, wanting to go home.

But where was home now? My life has gone completely to shit ever since  the news hit the papers, and my mom's a mess, her distress making her  helpless.

"Melly," Noreen cried into the phone. "Why did you do it? You know I  have some money saved, I could have helped you with tuition."

"No, Ma," I said quietly. "Don't you remember our last conversation?  With Sam in the Army now, you asked if there was some way I could get a  part time job, remember?"

"But Melly," sobbed my mom. "I didn't mean for you to go into the adult  entertainment industry. I never meant for you to sell your body, it's  now how I raised you," she choked.

I felt really sad. "I know Ma, you did the best you could. But I didn't  want to burden you, and forty-six thousand a year is way more than we  can afford. I didn't see any other way."

"Oh Melly," sobbed my mom again. "What are we going to do?"

I didn't say anything. There were no answers after all, and it was all I could do to try and survive day to day.

I want to say that I was strong, that I soldiered on stolidly, putting  on a brave face by going to class, doing homework, and being productive.  But the truth is after a week of torture, I applied for and was granted  academic leave from Trinity. Again, another blow to my dreams. I'm not  sure when or how I'm going to finish my degree now, and without a  degree, how am I going to get a job, especially with my porn background?

Plus, I've been inundated by interview requests of the wrong kind.  Journalists ask the most intrusive, degrading questions, and it's almost  as if nothing is off-limits anymore.

"Do you think you're being exploited?"

"What is it like being the face of teenage promiscuity?"

"Can I take a look at your ID myself? I just want to verify your age for the paper."

The questions babbled on in my head even after I left the scene. To be  honest, I'm thinking about giving a candid interview just to correct  some of the falsehoods. People immediately think that I was abused as a  child, molested, locked in dark closets for long hours. How do I explain  that my mom worked hard to raise me right, and the porn is in no way a  reflection of her parenting skills?

God, I was exhausted just thinking about it. So very, very tired.  Sometimes I feel Melanie fading into the distance and my porn star  persona slowly taking over, overshadowing everything that I used to be.  People call me "Trinity" occasionally, and I find myself answering  questions as her.

"Trinity, what do you think about double-teaming? Do you think women are abused when they do double penetration?"

I was fatigued but at the same time so angry, it's hard to explain. On  the one hand, I was ashamed that I'd gone down the adult entertainment  path, but on the other, my subconscious knew that I had to own it. After  all, anyone who's ever watched X-rated stuff knows that there are  performers who love DP. The girls are usually squealing as they're  sandwiched, savoring the double-stuff in their cunny and ass. So my  reply was direct and straightforward.