The Trashy Virgin(32)

"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.