"So what?" I asked. "What does this have to do with me?"
Instead of answering, Lauren pressed play. Moans began to filter out … breathy, sexy, feminine, and all too familiar. I froze in shock, desperate to stop this from happening, telling myself this was some kind of horrific nightmare. But the camera panned up, tracing over that creamy body, lovingly zooming in on the brunette's breasts before capturing her face. It was me! There was live video of me on the internet, masturbating for the world to see!
"What the fuck!" I screamed. "This is my audition video for the Donkey Club! How could it have gotten out?" I shrieked.
"I have no idea," rushed Lauren. "I swear, I don't know. It must have been that skeeze Ralph … but Mel, I have no idea why. I mean, he sees dozens of girls a week, he's gotta have hundreds of these videos. Why would he leak yours?"
The blood drained from my face and I hyperventilated, an iron vise constricting around my chest, my heart beating so loud that it thundered in my ears. I sat on my bed, trying to think straight while images of my naked, flushed body continued to twist on screen.
Holy fucking shit. This is why people had been staring at me. I'd been outed as a stripper, or even worse, as a porn actress. How had this happened? I started crying, my shoulders heaving uncontrollably, the sobs so hard and fierce that they made my chest hurt, my throat squeezing shut so I could barely breathe.
"I'm going to be labeled a stripper and a whore! My life is over," I wailed, not caring who heard in our dorm.
Lauren came to sit beside me.
"Mel, calm down," she pleaded. "I mean, I'm sure we can get the tape back, ask the site to take down the video, whatever. It's not that bad."
That didn't make me feel better and I turned on her in a rage.
"Not that bad? What the hell are you talking about? This is your fucking fault!" I screamed. "I only did the audition because you said everything was going to be fine! And now look what's happened … I'm a whore for the entire student body to see!"
"I know, I know, I know," she soothed, trying to calm me. "I swear I had no idea. Ralph has a tape of me as well, I don't know why he leaked yours."
But I was inconsolable.
"What do I do now?" I shrieked, the hysteria making my voice shrill and harpy-like. "Tell me! Tell me what I do now with my life since I'm the official Trinity fuckslut!"
"We'll call Ralph," she said hurriedly. "I'm sure he can pull some strings and get that video taken down."
I sat on my bed, sobbing as my head spun. Ralph was a mid-level manager, seedy and disreputable. The people that I needed were my brothers … stet.
"Get out," I snarled at Lauren. "Get out of my sight, now." And she scrambled away, trying to get out of the line of fire, giving me my space.
When Saxon picked up, I was already hiccupping into the receiver.
"Melly? Sister?" he rumbled, his voice concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Brother," I said pitifully. "Someone … someone leaked my audition tape for the Donkey Club to some porn site, and now everyone at school thinks I'm a porn star," I cried into the phone. "People were looking at me like I was some kind of slut, a dirty ho," I sobbed pitifully.
"Shhh, shhh," he soothed over the phone. "I'm sure it's not that bad. What site is it again?" he asked.
"Nub … Nubile Girls," I sniffled, the tears still coming hard and fast. "Brother, it's so embarrassing! I thought it was just my imagination that people were staring at me today. But strangers are pinging me on email with dirty messages, asking questions like "how does your pussy taste" and texts like that," I wailed. "How am I going to finish my degree here?"
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.