“That’s kind of an important fucking detail!” Britney exclaims.
I shrug as if it isn’t and continue sipping my coffee.
“Does he want to fuck you?” Ally asks, angling her chair around, her work and laptop fully dismissed.
“Ha, please,” I say, self-deprecatingly. “Look at me. Do I look like someone a porn star would want to fuck?”
Britney glares at me. “You’re a hot bitch, and we’ve talked about this. You don’t talk about yourself that way,” she says.
If there was a definition of true uplifting female friendship, Britney and Ally would be the poster girls for it. They’ve worked on my self-confidence over the years, and I’m honestly much better than I used to be, but that whisper of self-doubt can be difficult to silence.
“Okay, yes, I am. I know,” I say, setting my coffee down on the side table and looking at them.
“What did you say his name was?” Ally asks.
“His name is Corey, but I think maybe his performer name is Frank? A few people recognized him last night and called him Frank,” I say, shrugging.
“Wait, wait, wait. Frank… what?” Britney sits up, her phone appearing out of nowhere as she unlocks it and starts tapping.
I know someone said his last name last night, but it’s a bit fuzzy. Somehow, the details of Corey’s face—his smile, that dimple, the cut of his jaw—are clear as fucking day. “I’m not sure,” I answer.
Britney is grinning like a maniac as she taps on her phone. “There’s no way,” she murmurs to herself. Ally and I look on expectantly.
“Well?!” Ally prompts after thirty seconds of silence.
Beaming, Britney looks up. “Bex, is this the guy?”
She holds her phone up to me and I’m met with a stunning photo of Corey, clearly from the set of a porno. He’s not naked—which I’m notsure if I’m happy about or disappointed—but he is shirtless. And my god, his body is absolute perfection. The picture looks a bit dated, based on the lack of some lines on his face, and he’s missing some of the gray hair that peeked around his temples last night, but he still looks like sex on a stick.
Judging from the way my mouth is hanging open, Britney squeals. “Oh my god, it is him, isn’t it?”
“How did you find him so quickly?” I ask, reaching for my nearly empty coffee cup so I have something to occupy my hands other than twisting them nervously in my lap.
“He’s one of my favorite adult film stars!” Britney claims as she tilts the phone to Ally so she can get a better look.
“What?” I sputter. “You have favorites?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, don’t you?”
I glance at Ally, who is also nodding. I didn’t realize this was a thing. “Um, no?”
Ally giggles. “Oh, Bex, do you even watch porn?”
“I watch porn!” I cry defensively. “But clearly not enough to have a favorite performer. You two are dirty.”
“Ah ah,” Britney says, scrolling through what must be more pictures of “Frank” on her phone. I’m tempted to snatch her phone and look for myself—suddenly, I feel hungry for more. “We don’t shame each other here.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I sigh.
“I just can’t believe you even met him,” Britney says in awe. She pauses scrolling and exclaims, “Oh my god, I forgot about this movie! This is my favorite scene with him. He’s got this woman upside down on the bed,his co—”
“Brit, please,” I say, cutting her off. While a part of me is curious about her favorite scene and, well, honestly, any scene with Corey, I would feel uncomfortable watching him in a porn at this point.
“I bet he’s in Vegas occasionally... and The Adult Film Awards are here in a few months,” Ally explains.
“Of course the PR woman would know that fact,” I mumble into my mug.
“It’s being held at the Bravado theater,” Ally says, giving me a pointed look. I shrug—I’m not an event person. I can hardly keep track of the local professional sports team schedules; not that I follow sports, but there’s always an influx of crowds on any game night in the city.
