Page 30 of The Money Shot

I grinned as I moved through the space, mentally setting up the angles and layout in my head. Bradley had always been ridiculously pretentious about his stuff, and his bed was no exception. Sturdy, comfortable, big enough for a million different setups.

“This is perfect.”

The next morning Jack and I nearly missed the train. After we boarded, we rode in silence most of the way, the train rumbling along under the hum of early morning commuters. I was staring out the window, pretending to be absorbed by the view, but I noticed his eyes flicking over to me now and then.

As the train slowed down for our stop, Jack turned toward me, his voice soft but serious. “Hey, are you doing okay? You’ve seem kinda off lately.” He hesitated, then added, “Is it your job?”

I shifted in my seat, my hands tightening around the strap of my bag. “Work’s… been rough,” I said, trying to keep it vague. And technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Jack nodded slowly, watching me a moment longer before leaning in closer. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Are you lonely or something?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “I mean… all the, you know, sexy stuff. Are you trying to, you know… connect with someone? Like, are you on one of those dating apps or something?”

Heat rose in my cheeks. I was saved by the screech of brakes as the train pulled up to our stop, and I scrambled to my feet. We joined the flood of people filing off, barely managing to keep up with the herd as everyone jostled up the stairs and into the street. Manhattan, buzzing and crowded, hit me with its usual mix of energy and pressure.

At the top of the steps, Jack turned to me, his expression softer now. “Hey,” he said, his tone gentler, “you can always talk to me.” Then, before I could even come up with a response, he gave me a quick, reassuring smile and hurried off in the direction of his office, blending into the river of people.

I watched him go, then leaned back against a nearby signpost, the flow of commuters swirling past me as if I didn’t exist. I could see them all hurrying off to their regular jobs, their routines, their dependable paychecks… things I’d taken for granted just a few weeks ago. I wished, more than anything, that I could just be one of them. But here I was, hiding this secret from everyone. My friends, my family—hell, I could never tell them about this. And I definitely couldn’t tell Jack.

With a heavy sigh, I straightened up and crossed the street, pushing my way through the crowd until I found the stairs that led down to the subway platform for the next train back to Long Island. The station was almost deserted now, the rushof commuters already gone. I found a seat by the window and settled in, reaching for my phone.

On a whim, I opened the FantasyFans app. I’d posted a few basic photos plus the video the night before, just enough to get things started, but I wasn’t expecting much. My heart thudded as I checked the numbers—and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw I already had ten subscribers.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, staring at the screen.

The woman sitting behind me cleared her throat, and I snapped my phone down, heat rushing to my face again as if she’d somehow read my mind. I cast a quick glance around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. With a shaky breath, I tucked my phone into my bag, glancing out the window as the train pulled closer to my stop.

When we arrived on Long Island, I climbed off and made the short walk back to the building, my mind racing. Ten subscribers already. It was just a start, but maybe—just maybe—I could make this work.

Back in Bradley’s room, I stepped back to take in the transformation. I’d dusted, organized, put clean sheets on the bed, and even took a damp cloth to the dresser and windowsill. Sunlight streamed through the wide window, warming the space, making it feel new and fresh. Bradley’s clutter and chaos were gone, and in its place, I saw an opportunity.

Today was going to be different. No quick, formulaic shots. If I was going to keep building this new venture, I’d have to make the content stand out. And maybe even make it... a little artful. Not just random poses or cheap lighting tricks, but something people would stop and take a second look at.

I crossed the room to the window and pulled back the curtains fully. Light flooded in, illuminating the bed and the room’s clean, almost empty corners. The vibe was minimalist, but that was fine. I wanted the focus to be on me—not on any mess or distractions around me. I adjusted the angle of the phone clamp and set up my phone so it could catch the way the light filtered in.

Then I went to my room, opened my closet, and reached for the suit at the very back—the one I’d worn when I thought I’d be climbing the corporate ladder. The dark navy fabric still looked crisp, though it smelled faintly of cologne and memories that felt far away. The collar, the cut, the stiff fabric—it all reminded me of who I used to be. It seemed like a perfect contrast for what I was about to do.

Slipping into the jacket, I adjusted the lapels and checked myself in the mirror. I’d kept the shirt collar slightly open, enough to look like I’d had a long day and was starting to unwind. Professional on the surface, but something else brewing underneath. Just the kind of tease I thought my subscribers would appreciate.

Back in Bradley’s room, I took a few practice shots, checking the angles, making sure everything looked just right in the soft light. Satisfied, I hit “record” on the camera and settled into character.

As I started the shoot, I kept myself mostly covered up, snapping a few sultry shots of myself in the suit. I'd caption them later with something deliciously dirty: "long day at the office" or "ready to give orders." They'd look innocent enough on the surface, but those with filthy minds would be able to tell what was really going on.

But I wasn't in a rush to get there. No, I took my sweet time, each movement measured and deliberate. I unknotted my tie slowly, letting it slide from my collar before casually tossing itonto the bed. The jacket followed, and I felt a thrill, a delicious shiver that ran through me as I peeled back this layer of my character, piece by piece.

Finally, when I was naked, I looked right into the lens, letting the character take full control. "You want that promotion?" I asked again, holding the camera's gaze, letting a slow, seductive smile spread across my lips. "Then keep your eyes on me. Show me how badly you want it."

My heart raced as I lost myself in the scene—this fictional world I'd created, a high-powered boss in an empty, sunlit room, laying out orders for someone unseen. And fuck, it turned me on to imagine a hot guy right there with me, watching, wanting, aching to follow my every command.

But I wasn't done yet. No, I wanted to draw this moment out, to make it last. I trailed my fingers down my chest, tracing the lines of my abs, teasing the sensitive spot just above my cock. I took my time, savoring every inch of my body as I touched myself, imagining all eyes on me.

I let out a low groan. "You like that?" I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Show me. Let me see how much you want it."

My hips bucked as I started to stroke myself, imagining a stranger’s hands on me instead of my own. "Fuck," I muttered, losing myself in the filthy fantasy. "Tell me how bad you want it."

As I laid back on the bed, my hand wrapped around my cock, I suddenly thought of Jack. Imagining him there with me, watching me, urging me on. It was like a switch had been flipped in my mind, turning up the heat and making everything feel more intense.

My cock grew harder in my hand as I imagined Jack undressing himself, revealing his toned body to me. My breath hitched as I pictured him crawling onto the bed with me, his intense blue eyes locked on mine.

I wanted him so badly, to feel his skin against mine, to taste his lips and explore every inch of his body. But for now, all I could do was imagine it as I continued jerking myself off.

---