One More Flick: Chapter 1

 Chapter 1: Shadows of the Past

Charles Gordon leaned back in the leather chair of his photography studio, the faint hum of the overhead lights blending with the soft jazz playing through the speakers. He adjusted his glasses and scrolled through the proofs from his latest shoot—a tasteful boudoir session for a blushing bride-to-be. Business was good. Life was better. After years of chaos, he’d carved out something stable, something real. His wife, Jillian, was the anchor of it all—beautiful, sharp-witted, and totally unaware of the man he’d been before they met.

The phone on his desk buzzed, snapping him out of his daze. He glanced at the screen: an unknown number. Frowning, he swiped to answer.

“Charles Gordon Photography,” he said, his voice smooth and professional.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the king of cumshots himself,” came a gravelly voice on the other end, dripping with mockery. Charles’s stomach dropped. He knew that voice—Lou Decker, a sleazy producer from his old life, the one he’d left behind in LA’s adult film industry.

“Lou,” Charles said, his tone flat, masking the panic rising in his chest. “What the hell do you want?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Chuckie. You think you can just scrub your past clean and play house with that pretty little wife of yours? I’ve got news for you—your old fans still jerk off to your classics. ‘Chuck Thrusts Deep,’ ‘The Hard Hammer’—ring any bells?”

Charles gripped the edge of his desk and took a deep breath. “That’s not me anymore. I’m out. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a problem with that,” Lou sneered. “See, I’ve got some footage—unedited, raw stuff from your glory days. You, a couple of girls, some real nasty shit. I could send it to your sweet Jillian with a little note: ‘Enjoy your husband’s greatest hits.’ Or maybe I’ll just leak it online. ‘Former Porn Star Turned Family Man’—think that’ll get some clicks?”

Charles’s mouth went dry. “You’re bluffing.”

“Try me,” Lou said. “But here’s the deal—I’ll keep it buried if you do one last job for me. One film. You direct, you star, whatever. I don’t care. Just give me something good enough to make a buck.”

“I’m not doing it,” Charles snapped. “I’m done with that life.”

Lou chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, the perfect little world you built goes up in flames. And trust me, Chuck, I’m not the only one who’s got a stake in this.”

The line went dead. Charles stared at the phone, his pulse hammering in his ears. Before he could process it, the studio door chime rang. He looked up to see a familiar figure step inside—Tom Hensley, his next-door neighbor, a wiry man with a perpetual smirk and a beer gut straining against his polo shirt.

“Tom,” Charles said cautiously, rising from his chair. “What’s up?”

Tom didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He tossed a manila envelope onto the desk, the contents spilling out—grainy stills from one of Charles’s old films, his naked body tangled with a busty blonde, mid-thrust. “Found these in an old box from my bachelor days,” Tom said, his smirk widening. “Thought Jillian might like a history lesson.”

Charles’s hands clenched into fists. “What do you want, Tom?”

“Same as Lou,” Tom replied, leaning against the wall. “One more movie. But here’s the kicker—I want in on it. And I want your wife as the star. Jillian’s got that innocent vibe—perfect for breaking in on camera. You direct, she fucks, I get a piece of the action. Or these pics go straight to her inbox.”

Charles felt the room tilt. “You’re insane. She’d never agree to that.”

“Then you’d better convince her, Chuck,” Tom said, tapping the photos. “Clock’s ticking.”

That night, Charles paced the living room of their cozy suburban home, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Jillian was curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. She wore a loose sweater and leggings, her green eyes catching the flicker of the TV. She looked so damn pure, so untouched by the filth he’d once thrived in. How the hell was he supposed to tell her?

“Charlie, you okay?” she asked, her voice soft with concern. “You’ve been acting weird since you got home.”

He stopped pacing, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, just… work stuff. Can we talk?”

She muted the TV and sat up, patting the cushion beside her. “Of course. What’s going on?”

Charles sat down, his palms sweating. He took a deep breath, the words clawing their way out. “Jill, there’s something I need to tell you. About my past. Before we met.”

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t always a photographer,” he began, his voice low. “Back in LA, I… I worked in adult films. Porn. I was an actor. Did it for years before I got out, moved here, started over.”

Jillian blinked, her lips parting in shock. “You… what?”

“I’m not proud of it,” he said quickly. “It was a different life, a different me. I never told you because I didn’t want you to see me like that. But now… someone’s digging it up. A producer I used to work with, and Tom from next door—they’re blackmailing me.”

“Blackmailing you?” she echoed, setting her wine glass down. “With what?”

“Old footage, photos,” he said, his throat tight. “They’ll send it to you, leak it online, ruin everything unless I do what they want.”

Jillian’s eyes narrowed. “And what do they want?”

Here it was—the moment that could shatter them. Charles swallowed hard. “They want me to make one more film. Direct it. And… they want you to star in it.”

She stared at him, her emotions unreadable. “Me? In a porn movie?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” he said, his words tumbling out. “They’re demanding you do scenes—sex scenes—with other guys. Explicit stuff. They won’t let it go unless we both play along. I hate this, Jill, I swear, but if we don’t, they’ll destroy us.”

Jillian stood abruptly, crossing her arms. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to fuck strangers on camera because some assholes are holding your past over your head?”

“I’m not asking,” he said, standing to meet her gaze. “I’m begging you to understand. I don’t want this either, but they’ve got me cornered. If there was another way—”

“There’s always another way!” she snapped, her voice rising. “We could go to the cops, sue them, something!”

“They’ve got proof, Jill. It’s my word against theirs, and I’m the ex-porn-star husband. Who’s gonna believe me?”

She turned away, running a hand through her hair. “This is insane, Charles. I can’t even… I mean, what kind of scenes are we talking about?”

He hesitated, then plunged in. “Full-on. penetration, oral, group stuff. They want it raunchy, no holding back. You’d be with multiple guys, maybe me too, depending on what they push for. I’d be directing, making sure it’s… professional, I guess.”

“Professional?” she laughed bitterly. “You’re talking about me getting fucked by random men like some slut, and you’re calling it professional?”

“I’m trying to protect us!” he shot back. “I’d be there, controlling it, keeping it from going too far.”

“Too far?” she cut in. “You think there’s a ‘too far’ after that?”

Silence hung between them, thick and suffocating. Finally, Jillian sank back onto the couch, her face pale. “I need to think about this. I can’t… I can’t process it right now.”

Charles nodded, his heart sinking. “Take all the time you need. Just know I love you, Jill. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

She didn’t respond, staring at the floor as he retreated to the bedroom, the weight of his past dragging behind him.

Two days later, Charles stood in the studio, staring at a text from Lou: Script’s ready. Bring your wife to the warehouse on Fifth tomorrow. 8 PM. Don’t fuck this up. Beside it was a message from Tom: Can’t wait to see Jillian’s tits bounce. You’re welcome for the idea.

He was about to hurl the phone across the room when Jillian walked in, her expression grim but resolute. She’d barely spoken to him since their fight, and the distance had gnawed at him.

“I’ve decided,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll do it.”

Charles’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I’ll do the movie,” she repeated, crossing her arms. “But only if you’re honest with me about everything. No more secrets. And you’d better make damn sure it’s just this once.”

He stepped closer, relief warring with guilt. “Jill, are you sure? I mean, this isn’t—”

“I’m sure,” she interrupted. “I don’t like it, but I love you and if this is what it takes to bury your past, I’ll grit my teeth and get through it. Just tell me what I’m walking into.”

Charles exhaled, pulling her into a tentative hug. She didn’t pull away, and that was something. “Tomorrow night,” he said. “A warehouse downtown. They’ve got a script—basic setup, you as the lead, a couple of guys, me directing. It’ll be quick, dirty, done.”

“How many guys?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Three, maybe four,” he admitted. “They want variety. You’ll… you’ll have to fuck them, suck them off, maybe some girl-on-girl if they throw in a curveball. I’ll be there, calling the shots.”

Jillian nodded, her jaw clenched. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

The warehouse smelled of dust and stale beer, its interior lit by commercial grade floodlights. A makeshift set had been rigged up—a cheap motel room vibe with a sagging bed, a nightstand, and a flickering neon sign that read “Vacancy.” Lou lounged in a folding chair, a cigar dangling from his lips, while Tom hovered nearby, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Three hired actors—tanned, muscled guys in their thirties—stood off to the side, chatting and adjusting their cocks.

Charles gripped Jillian’s hand as they stepped onto the set. She wore a tight red dress they’d picked out, her curves accentuated, her face all business. “You, okay?” he whispered.

“No,” she muttered. “But let’s get this over with.”

Lou clapped his hands, standing up. “Alright, lovebirds! Here’s the deal—Jillian’s the bored housewife who calls some ‘repairmen’ to fix her pipes. You know the drill, Chuck. Make it hot, make it nasty. Action in five.”

Charles took his place behind the camera, his stomach churning as he gave Jillian a nod. She stepped onto the set, sitting on the bed, crossing her legs. The actors—introduced as Mike, Jake, and Tony—sauntered in, tool belts slung low on their hips.

“Ma’am, you called about a leak?” Mike said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

Jillian forced a smile, playing along. “Yeah, it’s… real bad. Think you boys can handle it?”

“Oh, we’ll handle it,” Jake chimed in, stepping closer. “Gonna need to check every inch.”

Charles called out, “Cut the chit-chat. Get to it.”

The air shifted as Mike moved first, unzipping his jeans to reveal a thick, hardening cock. Jillian’s eyes widened for a split second before she caught herself, reaching out to grip him. “Guess I’ll start here,” she said, her voice husky, and slid her lips over the tip, sucking him in deep.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mike groaned, threading his fingers through her hair as she bobbed her head, her tongue swirling around his shaft. Jake and Tony didn’t wait, shedding their clothes to join in. Jake knelt behind her, yanking her dress up to expose her ass, his hands spreading her cheeks.

“Nice and tight,” he muttered, spitting on his fingers before sliding them along her pussy. Jillian moaned around Mike’s cock, the sound muffled as Jake pushed two fingers inside her, pumping slowly.

Charles adjusted the camera, his throat tight. This was his wife—his Jillian—getting worked over by strangers, and he was filming it. Tom sidled up, whispering, “Told you she’d be a natural.”

“Shut up,” Charles growled, focusing on the scene.

Tony climbed onto the bed, stroking his own cock—long and veiny—before tapping Jillian’s cheek. “Open wide, sweetheart.” She pulled off Mike with a wet pop, turning to take Tony in, her lips stretching around him as he thrust shallowly into her mouth. Mike stepped back, jerking himself as he watched.

Jake pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his cock, sliding into her pussy with a slow, deliberate push. Jillian gasped, the sound garbled by Tony’s dick, her body rocking between them. “Fuck, she’s wet,” Jake grunted, gripping her hips as he started to pound her, the slap of skin echoing in the warehouse.

Charles zoomed in, capturing the sweat beading on her skin, the way her tits bounced under the dress as Jake fucked her harder. Tony pulled out of her mouth, letting Mike take over again, and Jillian’s hands scrambled pushed firm on the bed, her moans growing louder.

“Give it to her good,” Lou called out, puffing his cigar. “I want her screaming.”

Jake obliged, slamming into her with brutal force, his balls slapping against her clit. Jillian’s head tipped back, a raw cry tearing from her throat as Mike fucked her mouth, his thrusts growing erratic. “Gonna cum,” he warned, and seconds later, he pulled out, spraying thick ropes of cum across her face. She flinched but didn’t stop, her tongue darting out to taste it.

Tony took his turn next, shoving his cock back into her mouth as Jake sped up, his grunts mingling with her muffled whimpers. Charles’s hands shook on the camera, arousal and shame boiling up inside him. She was doing this for him—for them—and it was hotter than he’d ever admit.

Jake groaned, pulling out to cum across her ass, the white streaks glistening under the lights. Tony followed, spilling into her mouth, and Jillian swallowed, her eyes locking with Charles’s for a fleeting moment. There was defiance there, and something else—something dark and hungry.

“Cut!” Charles barked, stepping back. The actors dispersed, wiping themselves off, while Jillian sat up, wiping her face with a towel Lou tossed her.

“Not bad for a rookie,” Lou said, clapping. “We’ll do round two tomorrow. Bring some toys.”

Charles helped Jillian off the bed, his hands gentle. “You okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.

She nodded, her voice hoarse. “I survived. Let’s go home.”

As they left the warehouse, Charles couldn’t shake the image of her—his wife, his love—transformed into something raw and untamed. And deep down, he wondered if she’d hated it as much as she claimed.