I straightened my tie, ran a hand through my hair, and waited. The next candidate, Willow, entered the office with hesitant steps, her small frame and innocent expression a dramatic contrast to the powerful woman who had just left.

​"Mr. Hart? Hi," she chirped, twisting her tiny clutch. Her eyes were still wide, having clearly processed the implications of the sounds she must have heard. Yet, she was still here.

​I leaned back against the desk, adopting a relaxed, yet dominant pose. "Did you hear all that?"

​She sat on the couch then straightened up to look at me. "Hear what?"

​"The sounds, of course," I said, never breaking eye contact.

​"The sex sounds, ah yes I did," she said with a bright smile. "The lady even winked at me when she left. Were you shooting a scene?"

​She looked pointedly at the camera that was still recording.

​"Kind of," I said.

​"So... let me get this straight. You were doing an interview and shooting a scene at the same time?" she said, tilting her head.

​"Two birds with one stone, baby," I said, my smile widening.

​"Am I going to do the same?" she asked with a quick chuckle. Her eyes betrayed a mix of apprehension and genuine excitement.

​"Would you like to?" I said, tossing the question back to her.

​"It depends. Will I be paid for shooting an interview sex scene?" she said, her focus snapping back to the bottom line, despite her innocent look.

​"Absolutely," I confirmed. "I pay for anything sexual that involves a camera in my company. Consent and compensation are non-negotiable here."

​"Then I would like to, if there's money involved," she said, flashing a brilliant smile that showed perfect white teeth. "What role would I be playing, Mr. Hart?"

​I finally broke my pose and sat forward, locking eyes with her. "Willow, Dickslayer is the aggressive star, and Yolanda is the mature professional. You are the perfect counterpoint: the sweet, innocent girl who hides a secret, wild appetite. The one who breaks the rules. If you agree to shoot your interview right now, I'll pay you the standard introductory rate of $700, and we'll confirm your spot on the roster."

I studied her, trying to find the most sellable part of her body.

​Her outfit was deliberately sweet and revealing—a short, pleated schoolgirl-style skirt and a tiny cropped top that showed off her tight stomach. Her small frame made her breasts look surprisingly large by contrast. She had a mischievous, almost innocent look, but her eyes were already sharp and focused on the money.

​She looked exactly like a teenager, which was commercially golden.

​"How old are you?" I asked, needing absolute compliance verification.

​"I'm twenty-one," she said, her voice bright and steady.

​I didn't trust her, so I asked for her identification papers immediately.

​She was indeed twenty-one. She would be perfect for those 'horny teen seduces an older man' type of films—the kind that drove traffic on channels like Teen Fidelity. She was highly sellable.

​"Do you have any prior experience?" I asked, shifting back to her professional history.

​"As in sexual experience?" she clarified.

​"Yes, ma'am," I confirmed.

​"I've been sexually active before I was even eighteen.," she said.

She saw the expression on my face."With guys that were my age, ofcourse."

​I could only imagine what I would have been doing when I was that age—playing football in the street? By then, I didn't even know how to properly masturbate, let alone what a fully-formed pussy looked like.

​"Okay," I said, nodding my head slowly. "Are you also in the business of selling pussy in the street? Meaning, are you currently or have you ever been a street worker?"

​She looked genuinely surprised, as if I had asked her the most offensive question in the world.

​"I have had lots of guys before, but I have never sold my pussy," she said, her tone firm.

​It came as a surprise. All the other women that I had interviewed had been involved in some form of sex work—whether camming, escorting, or stripping.

​"What? So what's your connection with Sasha? I thought you were in the same business?" I asked, confused by her clean history.

​"Sasha is my cousin," Willow explained simply. "She showed me your videos you shot with her, and I decided that's exactly what I wanted to do, too."

​I leaned back on my chair. "So you want to shoot porn not just for the money?"

​"I want the money, definitely," she quickly corrected. "But I've always wanted to be a porn star. I wanna know what it feels like to be filmed like that."

​So she was experimenting—a perfect high-risk, high-reward profile.

​"You know what they say about this industry, don't you?" I said, testing her resolve. "It's where the devil lives. This work fucks up with your mind, ruins relationships, and costs you your normal life."

​"Is it fucking with your mind?" she cut in, her blue eyes sharp and challenging.

​"No, I love what I'm doing," I admitted.

​"Then I love it too," she said, her facial expression hardening into a defiant smirk. "And I'm ready to find out what it feels like to earn $700 for a scene right now. What do I do first?"

Her eagerness and directness were intoxicating. The $700 guaranteed payment was clearly the adrenaline shot she needed.

​I smiled, my gaze dropping pointedly to her chest. "Ever since you walked into this room, I have noticed how incredibly attractive your tits look in that top. They are definitely making my cock throb." I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "Would you like to give a titty fuck?"

​"I would love that," she smiled back, a flash of pure naughtiness in her eyes as she reached up for the tiny cropped top.

Her smile widened into a predatory grin. She wasted no time, her hands reaching up to the hem of the tiny, cropped top. With a confident tug, she pulled the fabric up and over her head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.