Porn Star(68)

My throat goes dry as I suddenly become aware of the gravity of the situation. If I don’t start seriously fighting back, there’s a good chance this could end with me bent over and Bruce having his merry old way with me—the very thing I left the set trying to avoid.

I struggle in earnest now.

“I think you should lick it.”

“I’m not licking anything. Let me go.”

“Come on, Dev. Just a little taste. Lick me.” With his leg coiled around me and one hand snaked around my waist, he tries to push my head toward his crotch. “Are you going to make this easy? Or are you going to make this fun?”

My eyes are watering now. My throat’s tight. “I’ll scream.”

“Fun then.” Bruce pushes my head down again, this time with more force. I can’t fight him—he’s too strong—but I try anyway, flailing and kicking.

I’m gathering my voice to let out a scream when there’s a knock on the door “Devi?”

Bruce freezes, and before he can think to prevent me, I shout, “Come in!”

The door opens, and LaRue walks in. Bruce still has his hands on me, but this time when I pull out of his grasp, he lets go. I wrap the robe around myself, holding it tightly at my neck and waist.

The producer looks from me to Bruce and back to me. “Everything okay in here?”

Fuck. No. Not okay in the least.

Bruce is the one who answers first. “Thought I could make her a little more comfortable before filming. That’s all.” He lifts his hand to draw two fingers down my cheek. “See you on set, Devi.”

I shudder and wrap my arms tighter around myself. My lips are trembling and I can’t tell if I’m about to cry or throw up. I want to get out of here more than ever, but I can’t move. I can’t speak. If LaRue hadn’t come after me, if he hadn’t interrupted….

“Hey, what’s this I hear about you quitting?”

I barely register what he says, practically crying as I let out a tremulous breath. “Thank you. For coming when you did. Bruce…he…he just…”

Concerned, LaRue steps toward me. But I flinch when he reaches his hand out. “What is it?” he asks.

“He tried to come on to me. He wouldn’t stop.” I’m shook up, completely unsettled, and it’s difficult to form my scattered thoughts into sentences so I just repeat myself. “He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.”

My skin burns where Bruce touched me, as if his fingers were doused in acid, and I feel the urgent need to shower and scrub, though I also never want to take my clothes off again.

LaRue drops his hands to his sides, and the look on his face is both cautious and perplexed. “Bruce Madden just tried to come on to you?” he asks slowly.

“Yes!” Didn’t I f*cking say that? “After I said no!”

“Well, Devi.” He pauses, as if about to deliver news he thinks I don’t want to hear, and I can already tell he’s right. “You are here to make porn. What did you expect would happen?”

My heart feels like it’s in my throat, and it was already pounding so hard I was sure it would bruise my insides. I blink up at LaRue several times. “Jesus, are you kidding me?”

LaRue cocks his hip against the desk. “I was going to ask the same about you. You signed a contract to do a certain type of work for me, and now you’re not only walking out of that contract, but are crying foul when other people on my set expect you to live up to what you agreed to? That’s not how this business works.”

His tone is calm and reasonable, and for a fraction of a second I think he may be right—that I am obviously the one in the wrong, that it’s my choices that have put me in this situation, that I’m being too sensitive. What had Bruce Madden really done, anyway? Touched my skin? I came here today with the intention of letting him doing so much more.

But then the moment of doubt passes and a lifetime of lessons in self-respect and personal rights takes hold of my emotions, turning them to blind rage. “First of all,” I channel my anger into talking points. “I quit because the terms I agreed to were not being met. Second of all, this room is not your set. Third of all, even if it were, I still get to decide what happens to me. Just because I signed a contract doesn’t mean I give up consent. That’s not how my body—or the law—works.”

LaRue shakes his head, incredulous. “Damn, I knew you were young, but I didn’t think you were so na?ve. Do you realize what you’ve cost me today? I’ve already had to pay the crew for thirty minutes of standing around because you were running late and now because of your cold feet. If you’re not careful, you’re going to get a reputation for being a diva, and that’s no way to launch the next part of your career.”

I’m still angry, still indignant, but LaRue’s chiding is an echo of Raven’s earlier words, and self-doubt forces me into an apology I don’t mean. “I’m sorry that I’ve wasted your money. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Doesn’t matter what your intention was. I’ve lost money and I expect you to help recuperate my expenses.”

I turn my head sharply in his direction and tighten my arms around my chest, instantly wary of what he expects in the form of retribution.

He waves his hand, seeming to understand what I assume he’s suggesting. “I’m sure you give a fine f*ck, but even if you have a golden cunt, it’s not going to translate to cash unless you wipe your eyes, pull yourself together, and go out there and shoot this scene. Give me a dynamite performance, and I’ll forget that we had a rocky start.”