His first mistake, Josh realized later, was quitting his day job. Looking back, he had no idea why he’d thought that was the right move, especially before he’d auditioned. Thank God Colette was giving him another chance, or his “brilliant” plan to become a porn star would have been over before it began. Not to mention, he’d have no way to pay his bills.

Although, according to her email, they weren’t filming again until the weekend, which meant he had four whole paycheck-free days to kill before he got his second shot. And thanks to his lack of steady employment, he had no way to fill those hours.

Not that he wasn’t a pro at wasting time. He binge watched nine seasons of some screwball sitcom on Netflix—worst ending ever—and played Halo with A.J. until he thought his thumbs would fall off. He talked his friends into going clubbing with him on a Tuesday—which was almost as boring as staying in—and again on Wednesday. By Thursday, Monica stopped answering his calls, Darius claimed his hangovers were accumulating like rollover minutes, and even Ashley, their resident party queen, said she was tapped out.

That left Josh with plenty of time to think about what had transpired at that house in Bel Air. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. Which brought him to his second mistake: he’d been utterly unprepared for what filming porn was actually going to be like. And nothing could have prepared him for Sean Hardwood.

Josh couldn’t say what he’d expected, but he hadn’t gotten it. He’d known that there would be cameras and crew members and strangers he was expected to have sex with, but he hadn’t grasped the reality of it. The awkwardness. The stage fright. Schedules and lighting and editing, oh my.

Then, at the height of his discomfort, Sean had broken through all of that. Josh was embarrassed to admit how into their kiss he’d gotten. If Colette hadn’t called cut, he was positive he would have let Sean do whatever he wanted to him. Sean kissed like a fucking pro, which made sense, considering he was one. But it wasn’t merely skill. It was heat. His touch smoldered in a way that felt too real to be feigned.

And yet it was. It had to have been. Afterward, Sean had been all business. Talking about reviewing the footage and saying, “It was nice working with you,” like they’d just finished a business meeting. He was every inch the consummate professional—no more flirting or flexing or making bad ginger puns—and there Josh had been, breathless and turned on like crazy. He hadn’t meant to leave so abruptly, but he’d known that if he didn’t put some space between them, he was going to say something he’d regret. He had a big enough mouth when he wasn’t lust addled.

He wasn’t claiming to be an expert, but it didn’t take one to know porn stars weren’t supposed to develop feelings for each other. Well, not feelings. That was going a bit far. But he’d definitely felt a spark of something the moment Sean’s lips had touched his, and in the four days since they’d filmed together, his interest hadn’t waned.

Which was ridiculous. He didn’t know Sean. Sean Hardwood wasn’t even the guy’s real name. Josh had told “Sean” to his face that he wasn’t Josh’s type, and now he had a crush on him. God, his life was a dumpster fire.

The night before he was scheduled to shoot his first porno, he lay awake in bed, staring at his ceiling and willing himself to sleep to no avail. Sean was at the forefront of his mind, like always. He wondered if Sean would be at Murmur Inc. tomorrow. Or would he be off at some other house, having sex with some other guy?

That was a depressing thought.

How did porn stars do it? Maybe that was the root of his problem. Among all the other things he hadn’t been prepared for, he didn’t know how to kiss someone and not feel something. He needed to remind himself that it was all acting. Considering the sheer volume of porn that existed, there was no way all those people were as into their costars as they seemed. It wasn’t possible. It was all fake. Like movies and TV.

That was the lesson he needed to learn, and he needed to do it fast. It wasn’t just thoughts of Sean that were keeping him awake. He was going to film again tomorrow, and not some short teaser. A real porn video—the intimacy might be fake, but the sex wouldn’t be. He’d never had nerves like this before. His skin prickled like his blood was carrying an electric charge throughout his whole body. He could feel his stomach acid gnawing at the instant rice he’d eaten for dinner.

No matter how nervous he was, he had to go through with it. He needed the money. Josh had no idea what financial security felt like. His parents were working class. He’d gotten his first job at sixteen. Minimum wage was all he knew, and getting a college degree hadn’t changed that. Porn seemed like his one chance to bust out of the tax bracket he’d been born into. He had to try, didn’t he?

God, he hoped he didn’t choke again. He’d been told his whole life that he was so dramatic, he should be in theater. But that hadn’t translated when a real camera had been on him. Colette had told him he wasn’t a total loss, but was that because of Sean’s help?

Much as Sean threw him off, Josh almost wished he would be there. Maybe he could coax out the same morsel of talent he’d gotten Josh to show before. And maybe he’d be shirtless again. With his perfect, taut stomach, and all those freckles. They seemed to swarm at his shoulders and then trickle down his chest, like they were leaving a trail of bread crumbs that led to his—

Josh shook his head, his pillow rustling beneath him. Even if Sean was good for his acting, he wasn’t good for his professionalism. It would be better if he wasn’t there. Right?

Who knew porn was so complicated?

Maybe I got a little ahead of myself.

He must have dozed off at some point—probably exhausted from his mental back and forth—because the next thing he knew, his phone was blaring the hip-hop song he’d set as his alarm.

Before he could reach for it, he heard swearing through his wall.

“What the fuck, Josh?” came Will’s muffled voice. “Turn that off!”

“I am. I am.” Josh snatched his phone off his nightstand and blearily tapped at the screen until Nicki Minaj’s voice cut off. “Sorry!”

“It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Chris’s voice joined in, “You’re making more noise than his fucking alarm, Will!”

That launched a shouting match through the walls that Josh was happy to excuse himself from. Colette had sent him an intro email stating everything he needed to bring with him: two forms of ID—same as he’d had to show before his audition—a void check so they could set up direct deposit, and any medications he needed to “perform healthily.” He had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t have any prescriptions, so he figured it didn’t apply to him.

There had also been an intimidating list of suggested hygiene practices, which included some obvious things, like wearing mild cologne, and some not-so-obvious things, like cleaning out his ass. And there were some things that were required, like showering, teeth brushing, and using deodorant before every shoot. Josh wondered if someone was going to sniff his armpits at the door.

He got ready at lightning speed. Colette had instructed him to wear street clothes, so he threw on jeans and his lucky Jameson shirt before zipping out of the room. His belongings found their ways into his pockets, and after that, it was just a matter of getting to central LA. Which meant taking the bus. Joy.

Josh wasn’t hating on public transportation. He was grateful for it and all its sweaty, smelly, uncomfortable glory. It wasn’t the glamorous entrance he wanted to make, and wedging himself between a woman with a screaming baby and a man who was muttering to himself didn’t put him in a sexy mood.

Maybe if all this worked out, and he made as much money as he thought he was going to, he could buy a car. The thought was almost enough to block out the smell of exhaust with a hint of urine.

One bumpy hour later, he found himself standing outside of a nondescript, three-story office building. It might have been the same as any other, except there were no identifying marks of any kind. No sign out front. No name plastered on the face. Nothing. Colette had told him it was to keep protestors away. Apparently, the address was unlisted as well. The only way to get to Murmur Inc. was to pass an audition, like he had. The way Colette told it, very few of the Bible-thumping jerks they dealt with were willing to go that far.

Josh spotted a plain metal door on the side of the building, right where Colette had said it’d be. As he approached, his anxiety swelled up again like a rising tide. He distracted himself by thinking about Colette. He still couldn’t quite make her out. She was ruthless when it came to her business, of course, and intimidating as fuck, but little things made him think she cared about her employees a lot. Like how hard she tried to keep protestors away, and the way she’d threatened him for insulting Sean.

Well, if this whole thing worked out, he supposed he’d have plenty of time to get to know his new boss. Though come to think of it, she reminded him a bit of Sana.

Josh took hold of the doorknob at the same time as he took a deep breath. Here went everything. Josh opened the door and saw . . . nothing. An empty stairwell. He didn’t know what else there would be—an office, a boudoir, or maybe some sort of sex dungeon—but this was anticlimactic.

The wall lights lit up the staircase just enough to make it creepy. He glanced around and spotted a sign with an arrow pointing up. New Arrivals proceed to Second Floor.

Josh bounded up the first flight of stairs. There was another metal door at the top of the landing. He didn’t pause before he pushed this one open. If he had, he wouldn’t have been any more prepared for what awaited him on the other side.

It looked . . . sort of like a hotel lobby. What might have once been an office space had been cleared of cubicles and desks and had instead been filled with couches and chairs. There was a large wraparound desk along the far wall, like a reception area. And most notably, there were a lot of people.

Including Sean. Oh boy.

He was standing up front with Colette and a handful of others, while everyone else draped themselves over the couches and chairs. And Josh meant draped. Half of them looked like they were posing for a magazine ad. They were all beautiful too. He’d never seen such a collection of attractive people, in all colors, shapes, and sizes. One of the women nearest him was so pretty, with her high cheekbones, ink-black skin, and limpid green eyes, that Josh spent a moment calculating how gay he really was.

These must be the other new arrivals the sign had mentioned. Josh had expected to meet with Colette individually, but now he wondered if this wasn’t going to be some sort of group event.

Oh God, am I going to have to have sex in front of all these people? Is this like a focus group kind of thing? Are they going to critique me?

When he’d opened the door, no one had spared him a look, but now that he was standing there staring, people were starting to stare back. Colette was among their number.

Even from across the room, her gaze was sharp. “In or out, Dick?”

“Um.” He glanced at Sean, who wasn’t paying him the slightest attention. “In.”

“Then by all means, take a load off.”

He scuttled to an empty seat in the back, seemingly in the nick of time. Colette cleared her throat a moment later.

“Welcome to Murmur Inc., newbies. We’re always delighted to have fresh meat.” She flashed a bright smile that had a hint of fang. “Congratulations on passing your auditions. You’re our newest stars.”

The room broke out into applause. Josh didn’t join in. He was piecing together what was happening. This seemed to be some sort of welcoming committee. It made sense. He couldn’t have been the only person to audition. There must have been hundreds of applicants. That meant all these beautiful people around him had also survived the Hunger Games.

Colette silenced their clapping with a look, and Josh thought, Confidence goals. “Consider this your new-employee orientation. Today you’re going to learn some of what you need to know to be successful in this industry. Though of course, your work is never finished. We’ll also go over company policies, safety procedures, and have a brief Q&A. At the end, if you still want to be here, you’ll proceed upstairs to the filming booths, and you’ll make your debut.”

Another round of applause. Josh kept his sweaty palms in his lap. He glanced at Sean and immediately regretted it. Sean was looking right back at him, a smug smile on his face. The challenge was as clear as if he’d spoken words. Are you gonna make it that far?

I guess we’ll find out. Josh refocused on Colette.

“If you decide to stay, take one of our company handbooks.” She indicated a pile of small blue books on the desk behind her. “These will explain the intricacies of working here better than I can in the brief time we have. I’m going to give you a quick rundown of the highlights now, but it’s required that you read this handbook before your first week is up.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but acting on impulse, Josh raised his hand.

Colette blinked at him like she had no idea what nuclear power plant he’d crawled out from under. There was a rustle as everyone turned in their seats to stare at him.

Gulp.

“Yes, Mr. Reams?”

Josh willed himself not to blush. “Will there be a test?”

The staring intensified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean lower his head. To hide his face? His shoulders were shaking. Was he . . . laughing?

“No,” Colette answered slowly. “There won’t be a test.”

“Then how will you know if we read the book?”

If looks could kill. Josh almost swallowed his tongue.

“I’ll know because if you don’t read the book, you will likely put yourself or someone else in harm’s way. The handbook has detailed instructions for how to keep all of you safe—from overzealous fans, physical injury, stalkers, bigots, and more. If you fail at any point to follow these instructions, I’ll kick you out so fast, Murmur Inc. will win the next World Cup.”

A titter wafted through the crowd, but Josh could tell she wasn’t joking.

Colette leveled him with a crisp glare. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Rule number one: never call me ma’am.”

That time Josh laughed along with everyone else. Some of the tension in the room melted, and Josh dared to sneak another peek at Sean. He had a wide grin on his face, which confirmed what Josh had suspected: he’d been laughing before.

“Rule number two,” Colette continued, “is to keep your safety and the safety of your fellow performers in the back of your mind at all times. This means following our hygiene standards, never revealing anyone else’s real name in public or in private unless you have permission to do so, minding what you say during interviews and at conventions, and most importantly, getting tested for STIs, using condoms, or both, depending. We’ll talk about that more later.”

Colette went on to outline everything from their drug policy to how to deal with hostile fans. Murmur Inc. apparently had private security that dealt with protestors and any suspicious figures that showed up at the building, but when employees were at home, they were encouraged to contact the police and start paper trails on any potential aggressors.

Josh fluctuated between zoning out and freaking out. It was becoming clearer by the minute that he knew nothing about this industry. The politics were boring as fuck, but some of the stories Colette told were downright terrifying. Apparently one of “us”—as she now referred to them all—had shown up at an unauthorized shoot once at a house and had the director tell her there had been a change of plans. He would be acting as the male performer, and the condom he’d said would be used had been nixed. Oh, and she’d be compensated in exposure instead of money.

According to Colette, scams like that were common. It made Josh feel grateful to be associated with a company like Murmur Inc. instead of out there on his own. He was certain the stories were intended to make him feel that way.

Colette explained their hours of operation (boring), how performers were expected to market themselves (really boring), and pay scales (cha-ching). Josh could not, as he’d thought before, make an unlimited amount of money. Market demand had a lot to do with what he’d be paid and how often he’d be scheduled. Since they were all new faces, Colette assured them that viewers would clamor to see them, but porn moved fast. People were always looking for the next new extreme. If they wanted to stay on top, they would have to accrue a loyal fan base, find a niche, and/or perform increasingly extreme sexual acts.

“That’s why,” Colette explained, “most porn stars have a short shelf life.”

Josh didn’t bother raising his hand this time. “How short?”

Colette answered, though she looked peeved about it. “Some of you will star in one film and never do it again. In the biz, we call you shooting stars. A brief, bright streak across the sky, and then you flame out. Realistically, most of you will work for three to six months.”

There was a grumble from the crowd. Josh was too surprised to add his own murmurings to the mix. Six months max? That’s all?

Colette waited for them to quiet before continuing. “I’m not going to lie to you. That’s a promise you can hold me to. Most of you are not going to be the next Linda Lovelace. You’ll never be a household name. The people who make a career out of porn are one in a million. However, in three months, my average porn star makes the same money that most people make in a year. And that’s average. My top earners make enough money to make CEOs jealous.”

Josh let out a low whistle. If I can become a top earner and not burn out, I can make one hell of a life for myself . . .

“But don’t take my word for it.” Colette turned to the people next to her. There were five of them, Sean included. “Talk to them yourself. I’ve gathered a few of my best and brightest stars. They’re here to answer questions, tell you about the harsh realities of the biz, relate some of their personal experiences, and, in a sense, mentor you. Their time is extremely valuable—I know; I sign their checks—so use it wisely.”

Colette turned the floor over. There were two men, two women, and one person who was the definition of androgynous. But Josh only had eyes for Sean. He looked ultra-sexy in a white dress shirt, a black suit vest, and tight, dark jeans. Something about the mix of business and casual made Josh want to mix some business with pleasure.

Focus, dude. You gotta prove him wrong.

One of the women asked if anyone had any questions, and hands shot up into the air. Josh realized that he should have saved his questions for the Q&A session.

Oops.

He tried to pay attention to what everyone was asking, but his eyes kept drifting over to Sean, and with them, his focus. Sean was standing with his chin up, legs apart, and his arms folded over his chest. It was a classic confident stance, and it suited him. In fact, as he fielded a question about the use of condoms in gay porn, he looked as natural as a teacher standing in front of a class. A sexy teacher, whom Josh wouldn’t mind staying after school with . . .

“I’m what’s known as a crossover,” Sean said in reference to some question.

The unfamiliar term brought Josh’s attention screeching back to the present.

“That means I work with people of all genders.”

“Does that give you more opportunities?” asked a young and devastatingly handsome blond man.

Sean’s eyes moved to the beautiful blond. “Yes and no. While you would think working with more than one gender would multiply your opportunities, some performers won’t work with me at all because of it. It has to do with STI testing and some complicated politics.”

The blond cocked his head to the side in a way that was infuriatingly coy. “Why not just do straight gigs, then?”

“Because traditional gay porn pays better.” Sean flashed a wicked smile that went straight between Josh’s legs. “And because I love dick.”

The crowd laughed, but Josh was too busy being jealous and turned on to join them. The effect Sean had on him didn’t make any sense. But he knew one thing: he did not like the way Sean was eyeing that blond.

Once again, Josh’s hand flew into the air.

Sean’s gaze snapped to him. His smile turned from wicked to downright evil. “Ah, Dick. Good to see you again.”

There were some titters from the crowd. More than one person turned to get a glimpse of the man who knew one of Colette’s stars.

“You too.” It wasn’t a lie.

“What’s your question?”

“My question is actually for Colette.” Even as he said that, Josh’s gaze never wavered from Sean. The same strange charge that had sprung up between them at the audition rose again, like a trail of fire.

“Yes?” It was Colette’s voice.

“You said if we don’t quit, then we’re going to film our first video after this, right?”

“Right. Was that your question, or did you think the room was missing a parrot?”

More laughter. Josh ignored it.

He delivered his next question still without taking his eyes off Sean. “Do we get to pick our first partners?”

A hush fell over the assembly. Something in Sean’s face changed. It was subtle, but Josh saw every minute twitch. The heat between them lowered, but became more focused, like an ember still burning long after the log had collapsed into ash. Sean looked much more serious than a moment before, but also curious. It was as if this were his first time seeing Josh.

“No,” Colette answered. “Your partners will be chosen by me.”

Josh’s disappointment cleaved him in two.

But Colette wasn’t finished yet. “I do, however, take preferences into account when I make my selections, and I try to pair up people who work well together. If you don’t like what you get, no one is forcing you to be here. You can always back out of any performance at any time. But this is a business, first and foremost, and we have to give the clients what they want. Keep in mind, the more money the company makes, the more money you make. We’re in this together. Understood?”

Josh finally looked away from Sean. “Yes.”

“Good.” Colette considered him. “In your case, I think I have your partner in mind already, should you make it that far.”

His pulse doubled. Does she mean . . . He hadn’t dared to think he’d get to work with Sean again. And yet, every time he’d imagined filming, he’d imagined Sean.

Colette shifted her focus back to the crowd. “Are there any more questions?”

No one raised their hand.

“All right, then. It’s showtime. Those of you who’ve decided to stay can follow me up to the third floor. The rest of you can go out the way you came.” She strode to the door without looking back. Her stars fell into step behind her like ducklings following their mother.

Right before Sean ducked through the doorway, he glanced back. Josh had no idea if it was intentional or a coincidence, but his eyes locked right onto Josh. Fuck, it was ridiculous how much that one look excited him.

Sean was gone before Josh had a chance to react. As soon as the door shut behind them, the newbies broke into whispers. One guy made a beeline for the exit, heading down. A handful of others meandered over to the desk and picked up a handbook. And a few others, including the handsome blond, grabbed handbooks and then went for the door, except they went up toward the third floor.

Josh didn’t need to deliberate. He knew what he was going to do. What he had to do, not simply for financial reasons, but because he had something to prove. To Sean. To Colette. To himself.

After taking a book, Josh made his way to the stairs and climbed up.