Past Her Prime

Any and all characters engaging in any and all sexual activity in the story are over the age of 18.

*****

"Well, it ain't happening butch"

"Please don't say that. This cannot be happening," he said as he eyed her dangling breasts just above his face.

For the past few minutes, Clara had been trying to get him hard but to no avail.

'This always happens with them, doesn't it? Performance anxiety. They can get hard by imagining it but when it comes to doing it, they can't seem to get it up,' she thought to herself as she spit on his cock and continued rubbing it to get it hard.

"But you are so damn hot. I was so looking forward to this. This cannot be happening," he lamented as he brought up his palms to shield his eyes from the glare to the lights that were pointed right at their naked figures.

When Clara had decided to forego her formal higher education and join the adult entertainment industry, this was not something she had anticipated. If what had happened to her, late at night, in the confines of her room when she was growing up was any indication, getting hard around her were the least of a gentlemen's problems.

"Johnny, you need to calm down. If you put too much pressure on yourself, it'll keep getting worse and worse," she said, after her co-star had started hyper-ventilating next to her.

"But this is my shot. I got to do this. Not everyone gets this opportunity to star opposite sex siren Clara," he said. He continued, "But you wouldn't know that would you? Just flash your tits and fake an orgasm and you're the star of the show."

"And my name ain't Johnny missy," he snapped back.

Even though Clara knew that this was not the man but his performance anxiety talking, she still couldn't control her temper.

Squeezing his limp dick that was still in her hand hard, she said: "Yes well I think your 'head' needs a massage. I guess you need to spend more time getting blood pumping to it."

The pained expression on his face only gave her morbid satisfaction.

'Well, he asked for it,' she justified her actions to herself.

"What is the status?" a voice behind them said.

Raising her ass from the comfort of her legs and turning around to face the producer, whose voice she had immediately recognised, she said: "Failure to launch, Houston."

When the producer eyed the gentleman, he could see the pain in the latter's expressions. "I know it ain't something to write home about but geez, get your emotions in a grip man. You are a grown man," he said to the guy, all the while staring at Clara's tits.

Panting and sighing, and speaking with his teeth clenched, the actor said, "Well missy bitch here crushed my dick. I don't think I'm going to be able to complete this here."

When the producer turned to look at her, Clara could feel her blood shoot to her cheeks as her temper rose even further, not that it had cooled down before.

"It ain't my fault you can't get it up, you twat. And don't blame me for losing my shit because you can't handle performance anxiety and have to run off your mouth," she said through clenched teeth, as her fists clenched and unclenched.

The producer, who had been watching this whole shit show unfurl right in front on him, could not hide his exasperation any longer.

"You know that I have a budget to adhere to, right? I don't give a lizard's ass to what you both are going through. Get it hard, stick to the script, make fucky fucky, take your checks and fuck off. I got no time to be your counsellor," he said, the edge in his voice sobering up the two people his voice was directed to.

Unable to help himself, he sniggered and continued: "After all, you are just a bunch of no good pissants. One who can't get it up and one who is past her prime..."

***

Clara's attention snapped back to her surroundings. The book that was on her lap had slipped and had fallen onto the floor and her sugar-free black coffee that was on the table had long since grown tepid. Her reverie had been broken by an announcement for some flight's departure notice.

She had come to the airport a few hours before her noted departure. 'As if I have anywhere else to be,' she thought to herself as she bent down to pick up her book that had fallen to the floor.

She could feel her blouse ride up her back as she bent down and could immediately feel the eyes of everyone around her boring into her naked skin.

As she brought the book to her lap, she opened it to the page she had left it at before she had started day-dreaming.

She scanned the page that was opened before to find where she had last left off. But she could only see words on the page and not read them. Her mind was elsewhere.

She had long ago made peace with the fact that people were going to stare at her wherever she went.

'Everybody knows who I am. Even those prissy and so-called upstanding citizens of the society who decry my profession. Even as they preached morality and other bullshit, in the confines of their rooms they all saw me gyrating on someone's cock and salivated. Hypocritical bastards,' she thought.

She extended her hand to pick up her now cold coffee from the table and threw a venomous look at the lady on the table next to her, whose boring eyes had made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

'I need more hot coffee to get through all this but I know I am too lazy to get up from here. Plus who knows if this table will be empty when I get back. And I am too tired to stand elsewhere,' she thought to herself.

Even though this was one of busiest hours at the airport and people were milling around in the waiting lounge, no one had asked to share the table with her. That almost always happened. 'One of the perks of being a social pariah,' she thought as a grim smirk spread on her lips.

But despite that fact, she wondered why no-one had come up to her yet. She almost had a line of suitors everywhere she went. Most knew who she was because everybody watches porn. The ones who had no idea who she was, learnt about it from careless whispers emanating around them. And then they thought they had a chance with her because she was 'easy'.

"Yeah well, dream on asswipe," she had said to countless creeps who had approached her. Both women and men alike. 'You never knew what was in people's minds despite the smile plastered on their faces.

She now believed that she had a pretty good bullshit radar, one that immediately activated when a person entered her personal space or even approached her general direction from 20-feet away.

Which is why she had brushed up on her self-defence training. She always left a train of broken wrists or sprained jaws when she exited aisles at almost all the supermarkets she had been to. People always chose narrow and secluded aisles to either grab her ass without her permission or talk dirty to her. 'Wrong move buddy,' she had always thought before her mind went on autopilot and the next thing she knew, there was a crying woman or man next to her.

'Don't you get enough of this at home? I'm a pornstar dude, not a dominatrix. If you really want to get into BDSM, ask your partner. Don't walk up to strangers in dark alleys. That's just wrong,' she had said more times than she could remember while patting her unwitting victims on the back before leaving them writhing in pain.

Her chain of thought was interrupted again by an announcement on the airport loudspeaker. When she heard that her flight had been delayed further due to inclement weather, she sighed out loud and chastised herself for hurrying to reach the airport.

'Not like I had anywhere else to be,' she said as the grim smirk returned to her lips.

As her gaze returned to the blurry lines of her brand new copy of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude', she again tried to read the words on the page but she had as little success as she had earlier. But she did not want to keep her book down. 'Doing that will invite people to walk up to me and strike up a conversation.'

"Nobody likes a smart pornstar," a smile grew on her lips as he repeated her mantra just below her breath. She had long ago discovered that having a good book in her hands despite her looks and infamy was a better forcefield and creep repellant than her middle finger.

But her smile quickly vanished as the reason for her presence at the airport dawned on her, like a bad piece of chicken stuck between the teeth after a sumptuous meal that keeps festering for its presence to be felt.

Like her mantra, Clara was sure of a few things in her life: the earth revolved around the sun. Hot dogs alone never counted as lunch and that her career in the adult entertainment industry was over, even though she was only 32.

'Truth be told, that ain't too old,' her other pornstar friends had told her. But they all had offers coming to them on a daily basis. Her phone, on the other hand, had not chimed in quite a while. So much so that the only time it now rung was when her younger half-sister called in a drunken haze to beg for money. And that had happened more often than she felt comfortable to admit.

But she knew that she couldn't stick around forever waiting for her phone to ring. She had some savings and that too was not a lot. 'Sticking around in this city with my bills ain't feasible,' she had told herself, over a month after her agent had called her and told her that no-one had anything to offer her.

And Clara knew why her phone stopped ringing. The producer who had told her that she was 'past her prime' had a bloody nose to attest for that statement and Jonny 'limp dick' had gotten a blow to his balls that would take a few trips to the ER to heal.

And she knew she did not have anyone else but herself to blame for this. In the few minutes just before she closed her eyes that night, the thought that had struck her was this: 'Even if this is the end, it was fun while it lasted. Nothing to lose sleep over.'

But she always had had work since she was 22. Not having things to do, even if it was bouncing on dicks, and not having places to be made her uncomfortable. She was not accustomed to this level of slacking off.

She did not have anybody depending on her and she had no one to answer to. So she knew she was a free bird. An unemployed and infamous one at that.

The more she thought about it, the more just one struck her: 'You got to respect people man.' Their money, their time, their sensibilities, their personal space and most of all, them.

She had come to this conclusion when the unrelenting rays of sun had hit the cracked skin near her naked pussy. She was lying naked, blood oozing from shallow cuts near her clit, after what was to be the last defilement by that man. He had not respected himself. And her for that matter. But she decided there and then that to her, it would always be about respect.

But, she had come to learn the hard way that people, even the smartest ones, are just a bunch of idiots.

When she had decided to join the industry close to a decade ago, she had set a few ground rules for her then agent. "No anal. No orgies. No BDSM and definitely no lesbian stuff," she had told her emphatically.

Many had told her that she could not put up so many terms and conditions if she wanted to have a thriving career. 'You got to adjust girl. And trust me, you will come to like it,' an amateur producer had told her as he was nursing a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.

But Clara had rules. 'You need to have discipline. Without discipline there is no honour. And without honour, we are nothing,' her father had told her.

But as luck would have it, the first offer she got was for a soft core lesbian video.

'Well, clearly this shit-head does not understand simple words. But I need the job and the money is decent. So let's go for it,' she had told herself then. The words of the producer rung true and she did not get jobs. But she had to compromise somewhere, right?

Well close to a decade later and a few agents later, she had stuck to most of her rules. She had not done any anal, orgies or any BDSM work, but she was now most people's favourite lesbian porn actress. Even though she did not believe it, the checks PornHub sent her way and their statistics told her otherwise.

Her thighs clamped together at that thought. Though she did not mind the money at all, the thing that really got her going was the feeling of a knowledgeable tongue worshipping her nipples. When soft lips dripped spit between her clavicle and the small of her ear kissed her there, she knew she was in for a treat.

When hard digits would scrape the small of her back and lips would gnaw the area between her clit and her navel, she would grow wetter than a hose. And when a strong muscular tongue would find her elusive clit, she knew she could moan her innermost secrets. And that had almost always happened with women. So, her participation in lesbian porn videos was a win-win for her.

With men though, it was another ballgame. While a woman gave you what they later wanted from you, men had no fucking idea what to do. Eight times out of 10, she had to ask the male actor to calm his tits and stop pawing at her. Then she had to run him through what needed to be done, step by step. Time was wasted on those occasions. But you gotta do what you gotta do to make it worth people jerking off.

But the men who knew what had to be done, had a surprising habit of growing inside her when they were fucking her. Hard. They knew just how hard to pull her hair when they were taking her from behind. They knew just when to smack her butt when she was bouncing on top of them. Somehow they knew that she liked her nipples pressed hard and rotated clockwise and they knew that paying attention to the pussy lips as well as the clit was the way to go.

'A satisfied woman will take you to the moon and back,' she had always believed.

She was rudely awoken from her reverie when she realised that her right hand was snaking up to her breasts whose nubs were now hard and protruding out of her skin-fitting blouse. "Shit," she said horsely when she realised that all this was happening as she sat in the middle of a busy airport lounge.

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she sneakily glanced to the tables around her. No one was paying attention to her now. The men travelling with their girlfriends or wives now concentrated on them. Children kept the others busy and most single travellers had hidden their faces behind some screen.

But her reprieve did not last long.

She could sense a body standing to the right of the table. She was immensely turned on now and would only lash out to anyone who disturbed her buzz. Calming herself a bit, she turned to the presence, mentally preparing herself to chew their ear off.

But what stared back at her were two of the most deep brown eyes. The kind of eyes in whom you could lose yourself if you stared at them long enough. Ones that emanated a calm that enveloped you and made one feel that there was always scope of redemption for them.

She could tell that the beholder of those eyes was saying something to her. 'Just shut up and let me stare in those eyes a bit longer. I need to lose myself right now,' her inner voice screamed.

Her subconscious told her that the voice speaking at her was horse and garbled. So, her expressions automatically changed to one of puzzlement though her gaze remained transfixed on those eyes.

"Excuse me miss, but is this seat taken," he said as he pointed at the chair placed opposite her. Her table was at the corner of the lounge and her seat backed to the wall so that she could remain hidden yet have a view to the entire lounge.

But that was not all. It also was the one nearest to the emergency exit. 'Always weigh your options. A few seconds of thought before making a choice never killed anyone,' she always believed.

"Ma'am, is this seat taken," he said again, a little more loudly, much to the dismay of people around her.

Shaking herself out of her trance, her mind came back to focus at the situation unfolding in front of her.

She gave him a quick once over before answering him. And the first thought that came to her mind was: 'He is hot enough to make several drool worthy point-of-view porn videos.'

When he turned to leave, her mind screamed at her: 'Get your mind out of the gutter and pay attention to him. Where are your manners woman?'

She quickly cleared her throat and called out to him, "Excuse me sir." When he turned back to her, she pulled out one her warmest smiles she had in her repertoire and said to him, "I am sorry for that. Please have a seat here. The seat is empty."

Before she had said that, she had not looked around to see if the nearby tables had any empty chairs. She just had an inkling that if this man was asking for a seat at her tables, pickings would be slim out there.

When he turned around and dragged the chair out to sit, Clara did not avert her gaze from him. There was something about his demeanour that was just off. She could tell. Having lived the past decade of her life on her toes and trusting her gut instinct about people, she knew she couldn't be wrong.

"Thank you," he said as he sat down but he did not once raise his eyes to even look at her.

"You know, you don't have to sound so gruff. I did after all agree to let you sit at my table," she said.

When he looked up to her with his piercing brown eyes, she knew she had said it out loud and not to herself as she had hoped.

She knew the dread in her eyes was visible now and only hoped that her sheepish smile could convey her apology because she was too embarrassed to say anything to him.

But all she could see were those eyes staring back at her. And once again, much to her chagrin, her mind wandered to another episode of her past.

***

She never had been quite comfortable with looking someone directly in the eyes. That man had always forced her to look at him, directly in the eyes, whenever he was on top of her. She did not like it because she could always sense his foul breath hitting her nostrils any given second. And his eyes had been black. Black as a raven. And that scared the shit out of her. Even now, thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine.

The first time she had looked into one of her co-stars eyes was when he was also on top of her. He was pumping in and out of her and she was moaning at the top of her lungs. Whether she was faking it, she did not know. She had become used to it by then and hoped that it made for good video material. His hands were on her butt and were pulling her to him as he pushed his throbbing member into her.

"Say my name. Say my name Clara. Do you like that, you little bitch," he panted as he continued ramming into her. Her gaze, that was deliberately averted from his, surreptitiously landed on his face. And when her eyes met his, all hell broke loose.

She could not remember much about what happened later but she knew that she had clawed him in places that would make sitting anywhere and in any position for him a nightmare. She also remembered, albeit vaguely, that she had spit in his face and tried to break his cock while it was still inside her. Luckily for both of them, that did not happen and a lawsuit was avoided.

But that little incident had led her to sit opposite a rather dashing shrink.

"How does that make you feel Clara," he had asked her when she recounted the incident to him. 'Well, I feel like any answer I give you will be construed as rich coming from a pornstar,' she thought instead of answering him.

She chose not to answer him but kept a smile plastered on her face. She knew she did not need the shrink's help because this was something that was never going to go away. So, she did the next best thing she knew how to do. She blew his brains out. Not by a gun. But how she knew best. On her knees between both his legs. He had tried fending her advances off by citing ethics and his marriage, but she knew her own charms. They had lasted just as long as he had in her mouth. Barely a few seconds.