Gonzo Couch ((Openish))

[LitShark]

Gonzo Couch ((LitShark & SweetAsSuga))

((Filled, thank you!))

Ashton Kennedy was putting the finishing strokes on his office facade after the time his latest mark was scheduled to arrive. These young, alt-rock, punk types always showed up late, kept their own schedules. By now, he was used to it. It gave him a chance to check and recheck the hidden pin-cams, run sound checks on the mics hidden behind the couch and under the edge of his desk. He also took the time to walk in the front door and make certain that all of the pertinent equipment was effectively out of sight.

Though Ashton advertised himself as a powerful and influential agent for "Alternative" beauties, his true business was producing directing and costarring in hidden camera "Gonzo" porn featuring the same girls. His fictional Agency was called "Deadly Beauty", but his profitable subscription site was called "YoungDumbandFullofCum.com". A business that netted him high six figures every month.

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

The Economic downturn had also helped Ashton's business in unexpected ways. Young, attractive, high-school educated women were a dime a dozen- the dyed, pierced, tattooed crowd was neigh on unemployable in most spheres, and with record stores going the way of video rental outlets, the girls were coming in more and more desperate to please him. Desperation was the special sauce.

Two clicks on the mouse followed two timid raps on the door of Ashton's rental office, and he was recording.

"Come on in." Ashton called through the door, minimizing the window which simulcast all the camera angles on his desktop. He quickly snapped into character. "Headshot, Resume and your stage name please."

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Stamping out her cigarette with the toe of her four inch platform heels, Kyara Chase ran a disgruntled hand through her bright red hair. She had just come from yet another interview, her fifth that week, only to be told "thanks but no thanks" by the manager. In polite speak, that meant "no way in hell are we going to hire someone who looks like you." With her gauged ears and numerous tattoos, Kyara was used to the way people acted around her, the way they thought she was stupid, lazy, and not worth anything simply because she enjoyed dressing the way that she did. Dressed in a black mini-skirt with fashionably ripped black stockings and vintage Adam and the Ants t-shirt with the neck cut so that it fell off one shoulder, Kyara didn't think she looked half bad. But of course, other people begged to differ.

That's alright, let them think what they want of me. She glared at an elderly couple that walked past, the old woman shaking her head sadly as she took in Kyara's ensemble.

It didn't matter that she had graduated from Harvard with a perfect 4.0 GPA in bio chemistry. It didn't matter that she had interned for three summers at some of the top rated pharmaceutical companies in the nation. No, what mattered was the appearance that everyone saw.

Fuck that, whatever happened to not judging a book by its cover. She wondered as she made her way down the street. She had one last stop that day, a last ditch effort to make some money. Her friend, Simone, had seen the ad a few days ago for Deadly Beauty, some modeling agency or something for girls that enjoyed alternative styles.

Already she was fifteen minutes late, and Kyara hated to be late. It took awhile to locate the address, a nondescript building on the complete opposite side of town than Kyara had been on. Knocking on the door, Kyara was greeted by a handsome looking man, probably in his thirties.

"Come on in. Headshot, Resume and your stage name please."

Kyara handed him a headshot that Simone had taken after finding the ad, and her resume. But stage name? The ad hadn't said anything about a stage name.

"Name's Ruby." She said, thinking quickly. "Ruby Fire."

 

[LitShark]

Ashton looked up from his screen, having just executed the slow pan that the hidden cameras had been preset to perform, at his command. AVN awards were big on pans and fades and shit like that, especially in the "Voyurism" category. There was some really amaeturish work out in that ghetto.

Ruby made a true starlet's entrance, floating in on clouds of cigarette stink, with a mad riot of film vibrant scarlet and crimson hair falling low down her back, overlapping and sliding through the frictionless, silken paradise as she followed the motion of the camera, strutting through ripped stockings in absolutely unreasonable heels. This was going to be an excellent episode.

"You have very striking eyes." Ashton noted, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. "Eyes are good, marketable."

Ashton turned back to the computer screen after setting this girl's photocopy excuse for a headshot aside on his desk. He was bringing the shot in tight, framing her up before answering. The computer helped speed up the process in more ways than one, aside from recording multiple angles simultaneously, it allowed him a distraction, a subtle tool of dominance over his potential marks. Reminding them that they only deserved half of his attention, every time they opened their mouth to object.

"Ruby, that's good. Ruby Red. Yeah, I can sell that." Ashton smirked, imagining all the ways he could package her, sell her, brand her. He uncapped a red pen with his teeth and scrawled the word "Ruby" across her laserjet imitation photograph- across her eyes. "So, Ruby- I'm not going to waste your time, because mine's more valuable. My name is Ashton Kennedy, I'm a filthy rich talent agent- always looking for the next big star. I trust that you know that it isn't all just flashbulbs and fanfare, I work hard. I scout a very specific kind of talent for a very specific kind of work. That's how I succeed."

They all got the speech. It was an important part of the process, the whole thing seemed fishy if the "Agent" wasn't trying to sell them, from the moment they walked in.

"I can tell from your headshot, that you don't have a lot of industry experience. That's alright, that's what I do, and I'm damn good at it. Before you leave here, we're going to take some photos. The kind of photos I take, are the kind used to offer clients for jobs. The kind of photos you want, will depend very much on the kind of jobs you're looking for. The kind of jobs you're looking for will depend on two things. First, what kind of money you're looking to earn. And second, most importantly, your comfort level with the job itself." Sink the hook, feed some line. "What are some of your financial goals? Where do you see yourself in five years if money was no longer a concern?"

Ashton turned back to his computer screen as soon as he'd finished asking the questions. He wanted a nice tight frame on her face when she went off to fantasy island. Inevitably, their answer would arm Ashton with plenty of pretty pictures to place in front of their eyes when it was time to negotiate things like condoms and anal. Still, he wanted her to think he wasn't listening.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Kyara listened as the agent, Mr. Kennedy, went on his spiel. She was pretty certain that he gave the speech to every girl that walked through his doors. Finally he stopped and looked at her expectantly. Oh, right, it was her turn to talk.

"My goals?" She shrugged, "I hadn't really thought of them. I never really thought that money would never be a problem for me so I hadn't ever given it much thought." Kyara paused, contemplating the question. "I suppose that if money wasn't a concern I'd probably move to Europe, maybe get a house in Paris. And I'd have my own lab where I'd spend my whole day working on stuff." Her eyes lit up at the thought of having her own fully stocked lab where she could work on whatever research she wanted.

With another shrug, Kyara shook her head. "But that's just a dream, right. I mean when am I never not going to be struggling just to make my rent payment."

 

[LitShark]

Ashton glanced back from the computer screen, locking eyes, ever so briefly with the radiant Ruby before turning back to the screen, wrapping her lovingly within the frame as her casual shrug dropped the altered collar of her vintage Tee down over her pale shoulder, revealing the silken strap of her bra. He continued to watch her eyes through the hidden camera in his desk, watching them light up at the mention of Europe and a private laboratory.

Good girl. Ashton thought to himself. Go on, spill your guts.

"I see." Ashton nodded, setting aside the red pen and clicking the end of a metal, ball-tip on the desk with two sharp clicks. "That all sounds wonderful, and let me assure you- with your natural talent and my connections, by this time next year, you could be collecting rent from gracious tenants, rather than struggling to pay it."

At that, the agent smiled, retrieving a tall stack of papers from a well oiled drawer of his desk. Small yellow tabs had been placed throughout the intimidating stack of documents where Ruby's signature would be required. While fans of Ashton's work loved the conspiratorial aspect of him fucking these eager, nubile sluts on camera without them knowing they were being filmed, he still needed the paperwork signed. He'd had his lawyers make the contracts for these private filming sessions intentionally complex and indecipherable to most of the girls that walked in, the true nature of the agreement buried behind layers and layers of legal jargon.

"I don't want you to tell me your real name, but for this, I need you to sign it on these papers." Ashton began, sliding the stack of loosely bound papers across his desk with the steel pen resting atop them. "All they say is that you're of legal, consenting, adult age and that you understand we're going to be taking some pictures today. You see, I manage Adult talent, for Adult work. As a result, the pay is reflective of the kind of work, but unfortunately for me, so are the legal hassles. You don't need to worry about any of that, that's what I do. You just need to be your lovely, radiant self and give me everything you've got when I call on you."

"I'd like to add you to my book, Ruby. Congratulations." Ashton smiled, minimizing camera windows and leaning back in his chair, watching the eight-hundred page contract he expected her to sign and initial some dozen-or-so times. "Many of my clients earn six figures in a month- the good ones do, I should say."

Earn it for me. I should say.

"You don't strike me as the doe eyed type, so I'm going to proceed as though you know what we're talking about by now. Have you seen very much adult cinema? Pornography, I mean."