A Last Resort

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My good friends Paul and Sophie met at Arizona State University in the fall of 2004, where they were seeking degrees in business and finance. After a three year courtship, during which they graduated, moved to California and landed excellent jobs with very respectable investment firms, they finally tied the knot in the summer of 2007.

From the outset, I found them to be an odd fit despite their individual charms. Paul, who is admittedly good looking in a preppy sort of way, stands 5’11” with blue eyes, dark hair and a wiry physique. Known for his clean-cut appearance and stylish but conservative attire, he is rarely caught with a hair out of place, and to this day still shies away from the sporting life. Paul’s many positive attributes are instead found in other areas; his intellect, fantastic sense of humor and easy manner were all ultimately responsible for winning Sophie over.

Sophie, by contrast, is the athletic half of the couple and a true mix of beauty and brains. A cheerleader with the Sun Devils spirit squad during those college years, Sophie was known by her nickname ‘the body’ (blatantly stolen from Elle Macpherson fans) by almost everyone in her social circle. Blessed with the amazing genes of a Korean-American mother and Dutch father, Sophie stands a statuesque 5’8″ tall, with dark brown hair cascading halfway down her back. Her slender frame features dynamite curves in all the right places, all beautifully accentuating the hourglass figure, endless legs and flawless honey-toned skin. Despite the centerfold figure, however, her most prized asset is her gorgeous face. Her big, green eyes hint at her Korean heritage, and her smile is simply captivating. Simply put, Sophie is one of the sexiest women I have ever seen.

The move to California initially suited them well, although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss having them around. Paul’s career as a trader quickly took off, and immediately after the wedding Sophie elected to pack in her junior role as an investment analyst and instead embrace the role of homemaker. With the aim of starting a family, the young couple bought a spacious bungalow amid the Los Angeles suburbs of Laurel Canyon and quickly settled into a happy routine.

Regrettably, it was not to last. Eighteen months after exchanging vows, Paul was handed his marching papers as part of a large scale redundancy. Unfortunately, that termination brought with it a nasty side effect. The preferential rate of interest on their mortgage that Paul once enjoyed as an employee was revoked, and it became apparent that the lump sum payment he received as part of his exit package would soon vanish. Paul and Sophie realized that they had about a year before the money dried up, and with their respective families of limited financial means, there was no safety net in place to rescue them.

Desperate to avoid impending foreclosure, they urgently set about looking for work. The search proved fruitless, however, as job opportunities in their respective industries were a rarity due to the nationwide economic downturn. During the breadth of 2009, Paul was invited to an interview only once. Sophie did not get a single call. With no income, the bank unwilling to restructure their debts and their savings all but depleted, the situation looked grim.

The events that subsequently unraveled over a three week period beginning in late March 2010 are the focus of this story. They were described to me in finite detail by both Paul and Sophie during an incredibly raw and emotional evening over this recent Christmas holiday, which concluded with me being shown the evidence of their ordeal. Paul and Sophie have kindly allowed me to share this story with you, on the understanding that all names (including theirs) are changed to preserve their anonymity. They read this over before submission, and confirmed that the contents are accurate.


It was a rainy March morning in Laurel Canyon when Paul Spencer, seated at the kitchen table, first made the suggestion that would change their lives forever. Circling a classifieds posting at the back of his favorite tabloid, he silently slid the paper across to his wife, who was buried in a sea of job opportunities, resume drafts and recruitment agency letters. Sophie swept her dark hair away from her eyes as she casually skimmed the highlighted section. A second later she froze, before carefully reading the ad again.

‘Seeking women and couples between 18-29 years of age for adult video work. Great rates, no experience necessary.’

Sophie’s eyes darted from the advertisement to her husband’s stoic face and back again. After several minutes, she pushed the paper back toward her husband. Without a word, she rose from the table and left the room.


It was almost a week before the subject came up again. After returning from an increasingly rare night out with friends, the couple retreated wearily to their bedroom. Paul was first under the covers, and he watched intently as his wife emerged from the bathroom and glided toward the bureau.

Sophie was stunning. She had made minimal kuşadası escort effort tonight, given the relaxed nature of the evening, yet her natural beauty was almost overpowering. Viewing this intimate nightly striptease was Paul’s favorite pastime, and he smiled as her full, gravity-defying 34C breasts were released from the confines of her flesh-toned bra. With ease, Sophie worked her black skirt over her incredible ass and down her long legs to the floor, before slipping under the covers to join her husband.

Paul embraced her as they snuggled together, and he ran his fingers softly through her hair. He admired her flawless, sun-kissed skin, and the hint of Asian ethnicity in her exquisite facial features.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you with that job ad stunt a couple of weeks back,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t,” Sophie replied steadily, not missing a beat. “I just didn’t know what you were getting at, and given our situation I wasn’t in much of a laughing mood.” After a brief pause, she looked up at him pensively. “You were joking, right?”

Paul hesitated, before letting out a long sigh. “Angie, the money is really good. We haven’t had a job interview in almost three months, and the bank has already told us that we aren’t getting another extension…”

“What do you mean, ‘the money is good’?” interrupted Sophie, propping herself up and eyeballing her suddenly defensive husband. “That ad didn’t quote a figure! Did you call them?”

Paul nodded.

“What did you tell them?” Sophie asked, incredulously. “Did you give them our names?”

“Of course not!” Paul replied, hastily. “I asked them for a figure and a timeline, that’s all.”

“Baby, this is crazy!” Sophie exclaimed. “If we did this, we’d never be able to undo it. It would be out there for the world to see. Our parents, friends, colleagues — they could all come across it somehow. What if we have kids? What would they think if they found out about it?”

“Angie…” Paul whispered.

“And this wouldn’t be solving the problem, Paul,” Sophie continued. “So we get some cash. What about next month? How about the month after that? I’m not going to strip down for a bunch of perverts just so we can delay the inevitable!”

Her face flushed, she rolled over to face the wall.

“Angie?” Paul asked, softly. “Sweetheart, I’ve liquidated my pension and life insurance policy. It isn’t a lot, but it will tide us over for a good year or so. But it takes time to get the money, as they won’t release the funds for another two months. We need cash from somewhere in the short term or we lose the house, and I’m all out of ideas. There’s no job. No interview. Nothing on the horizon for us right now…”

Sophie said nothing, and after a few uncertain moments, Paul gave up and turned out the light. After some tossing and turning, they finally drifted off to sleep.


The next morning, Paul awoke to find himself alone. Throwing on a bathrobe, he made his way through the house into the kitchen where with great relief he discovered his wife in a cheerful mood. Sophie, who was enjoying a cup of Earl Grey, had positioned herself at the computer and was staring at the screen intently. Looking curiously over her shoulder, his heart skipped a beat as he saw the website for Spice Studios, the very company responsible for the wanted ad. Photos of nude women, many in the throes of sexual ecstasy, graced the page.

“Honey…?” Paul asked cautiously.

“So what exactly did these guys tell you?” Sophie asked, cutting him off.

“Well,” Paul replied, “I spoke with this guy named Ray James. Ray told me that we’d be paid somewhere between $1500 and $2000 total for a scene, assuming we have the right look. He said that we could also record a couple of scenes on the same day and be paid accordingly.”

“Did he say how long it would take — assuming we were interested?” Sophie asked.

Paul studied his wife carefully. “He said that a scene takes 2-3 hours to complete. But baby, there’s no way that I’m happy with us doing this if you aren’t totally comfortable.”

Sophie gazed at him for a moment before moving from her seat to fetch another cup of tea. “I guess it wouldn’t kill us to talk again with your new best friend Ray,” she said with a weak smile. “I’m going to grab a shower now, so this would be a good time to call him if you really want to get something going. I’m not necessarily agreeing to do anything, Paul, but I’ll listen to what he has to say.”

And with that, Sophie wandered down the hall and out of sight.


The conversation that followed was quite an experience. Ray James, with a gruff voice and no-nonsense attitude, was totally disinterested in small talk and got down to business within seconds of answering the phone.

“There’s a bunch of information we’ll need from you guys,” Ray stated. “Some of it is on the website’s application form under ‘we’re hiring’, and you should email that stuff to me rather than submitting it through the site itself. There are a lot of questions, some of which deal with performance limitations, and I’ll need full and honest answers to those. I also need photos of both of you, so I know what I’m working with. Look at the examples in that section of the site for guidance. Aside from that, there is some other information I’ll need you to bring on the day. For each of you, that’s two pieces of picture ID and a set of clean STD test results. Understood?”

“Actually, hang on,” replied Paul, puzzled. “Why would we need tests if we’re married?”

“I run this business by the book,” Ray stated firmly. “Frankly I don’t care who people say they are. You guys are coming in off the street and shooting a scene. We’re a no condom company, because that’s what people want to see. That presents certain risks. Because of those risks, test results are going on my file so that my ass is covered. Will this pose a problem?”

“No,” said Paul, “that will be fine.”

“Good,” said Ray, speeding along. “Now, you mentioned that neither of you have done this kind of thing before?”

“That’s right,” Paul said as he cleared his throat.

“Not even at home?” Ray persisted. Paul again confirmed the position.

“Okay,” Ray sighed, “well, first things first. Let’s talk limitations. You need to understand that the more you do, the more you’ll be paid. A basic sex shoot — oral and pussy penetration – is about $1000 for the two of you. Throw anal into the mix and you’re pretty much doubling your money. Think about that when looking at the website, talk it over, and then let me know the score. Sound good?”

Sophie had never even attempted anal, and neither had Paul. Paul knew that Sophie would not be happy at the thought of exploring that option.

“Now,” Ray said purposefully. “Obviously you want to shoot together, and that’s cool. But understand that this is a business. I have people to pay, regardless of what goes down at the shoot. If I can’t get anything usable from you on the basis that you get cold feet, I’ve got nothing to put out there and therefore no income. Because you guys are a totally unknown quantity, you’ll be signing a contract that provides for payment only after the scene is finished. In other words, both of you show up, perform and complete the scene. There’s no payment otherwise. You’ll also be signing a release, which gives me copyright to the footage and photos as well as full use and distribution rights. I’ll email you samples of those papers for you to check out later.”

“Sounds good,” Paul stated bluntly.

“Alright,” said Ray. “I’ll look forward to your email when you get the chance.” And with that, Ray James hung up the phone.


Paul passed on Ray’s comments as soon as Sophie returned to the kitchen, her long wet hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Once he’d finished, Sophie sat at the table and stared off into space.

“Thoughts?” Paul finally asked, as casually as his nerves would allow.

Sophie twirled her hair with her fingers, her mind a million miles away. “You’re right, Paul. We need the money, and like you said last night, we’ve pretty much exhausted every other possibility. I’ve got real worries about doing this — you know my feelings on it – but we’re in dire straits right now. I hope that if people find out, they’ll understand. What do you think?”

“It’s quick, easy money,” Paul replied. “It’s hardly ideal but it’s just a one-time thing and then we can get ourselves back on track. I think we do it, chalk it up as life experience, and move on. Are you sure you’re okay to give this a try?”

Sophie smiled. “I guess you’d better take those photos before I change my mind.” And with that, she stood and removed her bathrobe, revealing her phenomenal body as Paul reached for his camera.

After taking full length front and back pictures of Sophie, it was Paul’s turn to be snapped, and Sophie used her many charms to quickly bring Paul’s penis to its full 6″ glory before capturing some front and side shots.

Once photos were done, the couple sat at the computer to go through the range of questions that Ray wanted answered, before then composing an email and sending it, pictures and all, over to Ray’s offices in Chatsworth.


The next eight days were a cauldron of tension. Having reluctantly decided to perform anal for Ray’s cameras, the young couple experimented a couple of times with the act, and although it had hurt the first time around, Sophie coped with it much better at the second attempt. It was still painful, but provided Paul was gentle, she could take it in stride.

A trip to the nearest STD clinic proved a far smoother process. Ray had recommended a facility just seconds away from their home, and they arrived bright and early the following morning to begin the process. After filling in a couple of forms, the tests were run without incident and they were told to expect results no later than Thursday of the following week.

As that day day drew nearer, both spent considerable time working on their appearance and figuring out what they would wear. Ray’s response to their email had been most enthusiastic — he certainly liked what he saw in Sophie – but he also had one or two points of advice to offer. Both had been told to closely trim their pubic hair (this would, according to Ray, visually enhance Paul’s size and make penetration easier to see). Sophie, having studied Ray’s website again, suddenly elected one morning to visit a beauty salon a few blocks away, and Paul was amazed when Sophie casually strolled across the bedroom that night, sporting a completely shaven vagina with the exception of a closely cropped ‘landing strip’ pointing upwards toward her naval.

After what seemed like an eternity, Thursday arrived and the couple ventured over to the clinic to collect the paperwork. As expected, both parties were squeaky clean, and with that final hurdle now overcome, Paul telephoned Ray to establish a shoot time and venue. Paul, who had been expecting a studio location, was surprised when Ray instead gave him a residential address in Chatsworth. The shoot would begin at 10AM the following day. Paul ended the call, his hands trembling, and relayed the news to his wife. Sophie simply nodded, turned and made her way into the living room.


Following a restless night, Sophie finally gave up on sleep at 5:30, put on her sweats and went for a run to clear her head. Paul, meanwhile, headed into the kitchen to cook a hearty breakfast, which they both picked at silently upon Sophie’s return. After showering and getting ready, they packed a travel bag with final choice items and headed to the car. Sophie felt slightly nauseous as they backed out of the driveway and headed over to Chatsworth’s Gresham Street.

The drive seemed to take an eternity, until at last the GPS confirmed that they had reached their destination. Pulling up to the curb, Paul and Sophie viewed the apartment block with trepidation. Finally summoning up the courage to exit the vehicle, they made their way to the building’s main door and buzzed apartment 3. Within a few seconds, an unknown female voice boomed through the com.

“Door’s open!” she screeched.

A flight of stairs to the left took Paul and Sophie to a white door with a faded brass ‘3’ hanging just below a peephole. Underneath the number was a handwritten sign which read ‘No solicitations!’ Paul knocked twice, and after a brief delay, the same woman opened the door.

“I’m Sheila,” she muttered, failing to mask an air of boredom. “Paul and Sophie I’m assuming? Come on in.”

Somewhere in her mid to late fifties, Sheila had clearly spent too much time sitting in the sun, most of it apparently with a cigarette between her teeth. Her bleached hair had seen better days, and was pulled back in a messy bun. She beckoned the two through the foyer into a bright, sparsely furnished living room, where a man and woman were sat on a stained couch reviewing photographs. Sophie, suddenly crimson with embarrassment, quickly realized that the pictures were of her.

The man, a balding, heavyset fellow with glasses and a goatee, stood up.

“Ray James,” he said, pleasantly, extending a hand. “Good to finally meet you guys. Grab a seat, and we’ll get the formalities out of the way. Did you bring IDs and test results?”

Paul and Sophie nodded and produced the documents, which Sheila then scanned at a computer in the corner. After returning them, Ray scrutinized each one in turn, jotting down a few notes.

“Paul, 29 years old… Sophie, 26,” he said softly. “Honey,” he said, glancing up at Sophie, “I wouldn’t put you a day over 21, I swear.”

She blushed again, her hands now sweaty.

“Alright,” said Ray, ignoring Sophie’s obvious awkwardness. “Contract and release form are here. Once you’ve signed and dated them, Sheila will take you to a back room where you can get ready. Take everything off and throw on a robe. I’ll see you back here in a few minutes.”

Sophie and Paul quickly reviewed the documents before signing and handing them to Sheila. This paperwork was also scanned, and a copy of each given to Paul, who tucked them into the travel bag.

“Come with me,” Sheila mumbled, before making her way down a long hallway with doors either side. As the young couple followed, they glanced into the first room on the right. Also brightly lit, it matched the décor of the living room with its bare white walls and low ceiling. But it was not the room’s décor that sent a chill down Paul’s spine, or set the butterflies in Sophie’s stomach into frenzied motion.

Positioned against the far wall stood the only visible item of furniture; a bed covered with beige sheets and two matching pillows. Surrounding it was a startling array of video equipment. Several stands holding up massive lights were strategically scattered around the room, together with a tripod supporting a large video camera, which stood about a yard from the foot of the bed. To the left of the pillows was a white plastic storage box, upon which sat a packet of tissues and a few bottles of what appeared to be baby oil and lubricant. Against the right wall, amidst the mass of cables and surge protectors, was a television monitor resting on a stand. On the monitor screen was a crisp, live image of the bed, a mere eight feet away. Sophie shuddered as they continued on their way.

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