“I’m sorry. I just don’t believe you. And if I can’t believe you, why should I trust you? How can I commit to you in a relationship?”

Sophie had to admit that Malcolm had a point, but one far too dangerous to concede. She sipped from her glass of Argentinean white and placed it on the bench in front of her just inside the shadow cast by the sunshade. She pursed her lips and glanced around at the other couples enjoying the late evening sun on the patio of the Black Swan. Were their conversations as tense as those between Malcolm and she?

“It was only the once, Malcolm,” Sophie pleaded. “I needed the money. It was very tempting.”

“You see, I don’t think it was just the once,” Malcolm continued.

“Why do you say that? Surely once would be enough? I told you about Cum Babes International. Why should there be any more?”

“I just don’t believe you. It just doesn’t hang together. All those years between when you dropped out of college and when you did your Accountancy course at Kingston, it sounds like there was more than just odd-jobs and dingy bedsits.”

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, knowing full well from previous conversations exactly what he meant.

“There’s the lifestyle you managed to afford. The drugs and clothes and nights out. There’s the fact that I don’t believe you’d necessarily have done just the one video. And then,” and here Malcolm lowered his voice, so that no eavesdropper could hear him, “there’s what you’re like in bed.”

“In bed? I thought you loved me there best of all. You said I was the best.”

Malcolm sipped his glass of wine. He was clearly flustered. “You are so much better than any of my other girlfriends, and admittedly there were not that many before you, that you’re in a league of your own. Some of the things you do!” Malcolm lowered his voice still further “Your skill at, you know, fellatio and anal and fisting and all that. The orgasms you get. And how loud you shriek when you come! It’s just not natural.”

“It’s because I like sex that I was tempted into making that video,” Sophie protested.

“I don’t believe that your boyfriends at the time, or the ones you’ve told me about, were likely to give you the aptitude you’ve got.”

“I’m a natural. I don’t need training.”

“I’m not stupid, Sophie,” Malcolm said with a frown. “I’ve seen a few pornos. I’m not totally ignorant. I can see what you could have got up to. And when we’re together in bed, it’s not like I’m with someone who once, from innocence and greed, was tempted to give the odd blowjob in front of the camera. It’s like I’m with someone who’s done it all and knows all that she ever needs to know.”

Sophie gripped Malcolm’s hand tightly in her own. “It was only the once. You have to believe me.”

Malcolm frowned again. He was breathing quite heavily. The tension from this conversation was upsetting him. “We’re not living together. Yet. We’re not committed to getting married. Yet. But if we do make the next step…”

“I do so want us to, Malcolm,” said Sophie with urgency in her voice and eyes.

“…if we do, we need more trust. We need to be honest with one another. And I’m not sure we have that.”

“Oh, Malcolm. It just takes time!”

“We’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months now. I’ve never ever had such an intense relationship with anyone as I’ve had with you. Yet I feel I scarcely know you at all. You only begrudgingly tell me anything about your life before I met you. If I hadn’t seen the cover of the video in that second-hand store, would you ever have told me about Cum Babes International Number 12? How am I to know you weren’t in all previous eleven titles?”

Malcolm was shaking. His wine was mostly untouched and his gaze was wholly unfocused.

“Why does it upset you so much?” Sophie asked, squeezing his hand.

Malcolm shook his head. “It just does. It’s the trust thing. I so want it to work for us. You’re the best thing in my life. You mean more than the accountancy firm, the house in Richmond and everything else. I don’t want to lose you, but I sometimes think there’s no choice.”

“Don’t upset yourself so much. Finish your drink. We can go for a meal at that Italian restaurant. Or the Thai one. Come on, love!”

“It’s no good!” said Malcolm standing up. He slipped his jacket back on. “I’m too upset. It’s not working this evening. It’s best I leave you. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

“You sure?” asked Sophie anxiously, gazing up at Malcolm as he straightened his tie and slung the bag holding his laptop over his shoulder.

“I will. Don’t worry. It’s just, I don’t know, anxiety and everything. I’ll ring tomorrow morning.”

Almost distractedly, Malcolm pecked Sophie on the cheek, avoiding the attractions of her slightly opened mouth, her tongue twitching between the deep red lips and her perfect white teeth. He then strode off, not even turning his head back, out of the patio towards the pub car park where his BMW company car was parked.

Sophie watched him go with a sigh. She decided against running after him. He needed to calm down and her previous attempts at comforting him in these situations had not always been successful. Anyway, she rather relished the opportunity of sitting alone with her own thoughts and reflections.

Malcolm would phone back tomorrow. There was no doubt about it. Sophie understood Malcolm too well after all these months to have any doubts.

Sophie picked up her glass of wine, regretting at that moment she’d given up smoking and therefore had no cigarette to light up to calm her nerves. She sipped her wine while scanning the other drinkers in the pub patio. She was glad that her eyes were hidden under the sunshade. Most of the people here were like Malcolm and her: couples or groups of men and women, mostly in their late twenties or early thirties, still in their work clothes after having finished a day in the office. Ties were pulled down, sleeves rolled up and jackets laid to one side in concession to the English summer. Just ahead was a bend of the River Thames, too narrow in this part of London to carry more than a few barges and tourist boats. A few swans paddled by under the shelter of the decorative shrubs planted at the river’s edge.

Then, ambling into the patio, and not seen for so many years, was Justin, still with Ashley, around whose bare waist he wrapped a protective arm. The couple was recognisably the same, despite the intervening years. Justin was rather less the rake-like figure she once knew. Clearly, he was eating better than he used to. Perhaps this was Ashley’s influence. She had also filled out a bit. Rounder shoulders, a fuller waist, but still nothing to be ashamed of, and a dimple on each elbow.

The first time Sophie met Justin, all those years ago, his cheeks were much more accentuated and his eyes betrayed a kind of naked vulnerability. It was in a coffee shop, one of the countless coffee shops in Wimbledon where she lived at the time, one where the coffees had Italian names and the service was painfully slow. She had just been in the loo as a result of a false alarm. She washed her hands but, despite all the fruitless straining and struggling, she still felt the nagging need for a shit.

She looked at her eyes in the loo mirror. The pupils were still quite tiny and her face had a fatigued expression, as well it ought since she’d not slept for such a long time. The drugs were taking ages to wear off. Even though she was no longer feeling high as such, they hadn’t yet subsided enough for her to need sleep.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in bed though. It hadn’t taken long for the informal post-shoot party at Lance’s flat to disintegrate into an unplanned orgy. After all, Heinrich, Natasha, Juanita and the others were all fully acquainted with each other on the set. After a few drinks, lines, snorts, spliffs and, in Natasha’s case, a surgically-clean hypo, it seemed the natural way to end the day. So. Plenty of bed but not a lot of sleep. And didn’t she know it! And her arse knew it most of all.

Sophie knew that when she did finally recover, she’d sleep for well over her apportioned eight hours. Anyway, there wasn’t another shoot for several days and that would be a cinch compared to the rim and ring epic in which she’d been performing the last few days. It would be nothing but facials. It might leave a nasty taste in the mouth and the possibility of a stomach ache, but at least her anus would have time to recover.

When she emerged from the loo, she saw that someone else was sitting at the table where her mocha was waiting. She tottered over unsteadily on the impossibly high heels she still wore and lowered herself into her seat. The heels added several significant inches to her height, but didn’t disguise the fact that Sophie, like most women in her line of work, was actually rather short. In her case, only just over five foot tall. Shortness had the advantage of enhancing her apparent breast-size. It also made the attributes of any male co-star seem that much more splendid than they already were.

Sophie composed herself opposite the man at her table. He was, of course, the same Justin now looking for a place to sit in the Black Swan. She reflected that she was rather overdressed for a coffee shop on a Thursday morning. She’d dressed for the shoot in a leather jacket, a tight micro-skirt, and a revealing blouse that was designed to accentuate her already prominent bosom. Her long blonde-streaked hair was tied back in an untidy mess of clips and bows. Huge hoop-like earrings brushed her shoulders whenever she turned her head.

“Who’re you?” she asked Justin in a voice as unsteady as her posture. “What d’you do?”

Justin nervously introduced himself and explained that he worked in a technical capacity at a City-based financial company. He worked shifts, including weekends, which was why he happened to be off work on a Thursday.

“I’m new to London,” he said apologetically, with a diffident smile that stretched the tight skin of his thin face. “I don’t know that many people.”

Sophie nodded her head. She’d not really listened to Justin with that much attention while scooping yet more sugar into her already very sweet mocha.

“I bet you can’t guess what I do?” she slurred.

“Er… prostitute?” Justin asked, with an apologetic smile.

“Prostitute?” echoed Sophie with alarm.

Fuck! Is that what she looked like? Of course, she’d never stoop as low as that, although she’d been tempted before she was sure how much she could make in the porno business. In those early days, she’d not quite judged how low she needed to go to subsidise her studies at the University. That was when she was still a student, of course.

“No fucking way am I a pro!” Sophie said when she’d recovered her composure. “I don’t know how pissed off I should be at you for making that suggestion.”

“I’m sorry,” said Justin, his face reddening from embarrassment but a warm smile still on his face. “Not that I’d think any the less of you if you were.”

“Really? What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just a job, isn’t it? Prostitution. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, is it?”

“Yeah, well,” said Sophie, sipping her mocha. “I’m in films, I am. I’m a fucking film star.”

Justin was impressed. “Wow! What films have you been in?”

“You probably haven’t heard of them,” said Sophie.

“I don’t know. Films are one of my biggest interests. I go to the cinema two, three times a week. There’s not much I don’t know about the movies.”

“Oh yeah,” sneered Sophie, with a wicked grin. “I bet you don’t go to the cinema to watch Fellowship of the Rimming, Cunts & Quims Volume Three or The Sex Fiends.”

“Er… No. Are they the sort of films you appear in?”

“Straight to video. No general release. Never likely to make either the National Film Theatre or the Odeon. You know the kind of stuff?”

Justin nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“You seen much of it?”

“Not that much. Some. Not a lot. And never in a cinema.”

“So, what d’you think, Film Buff Barry? Are they the kind of movie you’d rate? What d’you think Jonathan Ross would make of them, eh?”

“Not very high production standards,” Justin mused. “At least, not the ones I’ve seen. Not very complex plots. Acting’s not up to much. But that’s all shit, isn’t it? That’s not what the films are about. You can’t talk about porno in the same way as other films, can you? It’d be as stupid as having a go at Teletubbies for being repetitive. Or complaining about the special effects in South Park.”

Despite herself, Sophie was actually rather enjoying her chat with Justin. He was trying so hard to be non-judgmental about what she did for a living. It was quite sweet, really. And he was a change from the people she usually hung around with, who were sometimes not really that bright. It was also good to talk about sex films with someone who wasn’t in the industry. However, her interest increased when the conversation strayed away from films to the challenges of living in London and finding an affordable place to stay.

“Well, money ain’t a problem for me,” sniffed Sophie, pulling a cigarette out of its packet. Although this wasn’t the first cigarette she’d had since meeting Justin, she only now remembered her manners. “Here, you want one?”

Justin hesitated, but then nodded and took the proffered cigarette.

“You smoke?” Sophie asked as she lit the cigarettes.

“Not really,” Justin replied. “Well, not tobacco.”

“Dope?”

“Well, yeah. A bit. Not a lot. Sometimes.”

“Got any on you now?”

Justin looked around the place with slightly frightened eyes. He looked down at his now empty cup of Grande Americano and nodded his head. “Some hash. Only a couple of grams.”

“Well, that’s enough, isn’t it?” Sophie said with a smile. “Hey, let’s go to the park and roll up. A spliff would set me up well.”

“Would it?” wondered Justin.

And indeed it did.

After an hour chatting on a park bench where the conversation became mysteriously more amusing as the influence of the morning spliff took affect, Sophie’s whole day became preoccupied in entertaining her innocent companion.

Sophie was actually rather enjoying the fact that Justin was someone who didn’t work in the industry and with whom she could talk about other things than drugs, porno and money. She imagined that if she had a brother then this would be what it’d be like to spend a day with him in South West London.

Sophie and Justin wandered around central Wimbledon sampling the record shops, the department stores, the clothes and coffee shops, pleased to discover so many areas of mutual interest. They both liked Radiohead and the Chemical Brothers. They both thought The Godfather was the greatest film ever made and that Return of the King was utter wank. They both enjoyed The Sopranos and Alan Partridge, but couldn’t get a grip on Friends or Frasier. And neither of them had been to Ibiza, although they’d both wanted to.

It seemed natural for the day to stretch into the evening, and, after a meal at Pizza Express and a few pints in the pub, to wander into a nightclub that Sophie was able to get in for free. Sophie was rather reluctant to admit to Justin that this privilege was a result of sexual favours that, together with Lara and Carol, she’d once granted the nightclub manager. She wasn’t sure where the reluctance came from. She was open about what she did for a living, and enjoyed entertaining Justin with accounts of the embarrassing and amusing incidents of a porn star’s life. What was the difference between discussing the mess resulting from loose bowels and anal sex, and admitting that she sometimes used sex to gain entry into generally exclusive areas? Perhaps it was because she’d have to admit that her rise through the porn industry involved sexual promiscuity that did not have the excuse of providing masturbatory entertainment.

“This is fucking great!” yelled Justin, through the noise and flashing lights of the nightclub, at Sophie who was dancing opposite him. “This place is awesome!”

Sophie smiled, as she swivelled on her bare feet. She’d left her shoes along with her handbag and coat in the cloakroom. This wasn’t the first time that Justin admitted that his experience of nightclubs hadn’t really been anywhere near the top of the market. And the lines of speed they shared were helping them enjoy the music and atmosphere that much more. Sophie wished she had some E, but she wasn’t in the mood for hunting out dealers.

Soon, Sophie and Justin were standing outside the nightclub. It was a little chilly, but at least it wasn’t raining. Justin had a broad smile on his face.

“Wow! That was a fucking great day!” he enthused. “I didn’t expect anything like this when I went into Costa Fiorenze this morning. Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed it.”

“It doesn’t have to end now, you know,” said Sophie with a smile.

“Well, I’ve got your number. I can phone you. We can meet up again some day.”

“Don’t be fucking soft! I mean we can go back to my place. I don’t live far from here. Just a couple of streets away.”

“For coffee?”

“If you like,” said Sophie, with a grin. “But you don’t have to talk fucking euphemisms with me. I’m a fucking porno film star. I sucked ten men off at once in Cum Babes International Volume Three. Your cock’ll be so fucking sore you’ll have to bandage it for a month.”

Justin blushed. At first Sophie thought it was just a trick of the street lamps. Did people really blush like that? It actually did change the colour of his skin.

“I don’t think I can. Or more to the point, I don’t think I want to.”

Sophie was annoyed. “What the fuck you on about? It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Are you a virgin? Or are you some kind of homo?”

“No, I’m not gay. And I’m not a virgin, either. Though compared to you, I almost feel I am. No, it’s not that. It’s that I do want to see you again, but I don’t think it’d work if I... if I... if I made love to you. I think I’d prefer it if we were just friends.”

“Just friends?”

“Yes. Just friends.”

“Have it your own way, then,” said Sophie, who was more annoyed at this sexual rejection than she’d imagined possible. After all, it wasn’t as if Justin was such a great catch. What could be seen of him wasn’t exactly competition for the male porn stars Sophie was accustomed to. Gangly, awkward, skinny. Nothing that would get him past the first audition.

She spun round on her heels and strode off towards her apartment without turning back her head. The impotent arsehole didn’t know what he was missing. Anyway, the sleep that Sophie had been denying herself so long was catching up with her and its prospect was very appealing.

Nevertheless, Sophie was actually rather pleased when the phone rang a couple of days later and she heard Justin’s voice. She hadn’t quite forgotten him and an evening with Sylvia and her husband, Geoff, had more than made up for the missed opportunity of sex. She had rather enjoyed her day with Justin. Perhaps this was what was lacking in her life: knowing someone who she didn’t fuck or with whom she’d never fucked. Perhaps there was something in the idea of being just friends with someone.

Sophie was reflecting on the oddness of the situation when she met Justin at a pub near the cinema where they were going to see the Cohen Brothers film he’d enthused about. When was the last time she’d ever met anyone a second time without having had sex with them? It didn’t matter whether the person was a man or a woman, all her relationships were predicated on sex. And it didn’t matter whether that sex was in the bedroom or under the harsh glare of studio lights. It was always sex.

In fact, Sophie was quite pleased at the end of the evening when she agreed to meet Justin another day and no mention at all was made of the two of them spending the night together. How weird! Perhaps that was what friendships were meant to be like. There weren’t many men she’d spent an evening with and not had sex with. And most of those were in the days before she had a film career. These days even her female friends were also her lovers.

A few weeks later, Sophie felt much more comfortable with her relationship with Justin. They would chat about everything. They reminisced on childhood. They shared jokes and observations. Sophie even let Justin tease her, which was something she was normally very guarded about, although he teased her more on her size than on her source of income. Sometimes, however, Sophie couldn’t help wondering whether Justin was gay and that was why it was possible for them to maintain a non-sexual friendship.

Except, of course, that he wasn’t gay.

This Sophie was partly convinced of after talking to male porn stars who also worked in gay movies. Not all of them did so merely because the money was better. Some men had a definite preference for male company.

But the real clincher was Ashley.

And here was Ashley, still with Justin all those years later. It was Ashley, in fact, who spotted Sophie sitting alone on the patio under the sun, rather hoping that she’d not be noticed.

“My God! It isn’t! It is! Look, Justin! It’s Sophie!”

“Goodness me!” said Justin, adjusting his eyes to the gloom of the shade. “Sophie! How are you? It’s been ages!”

“I’m fine. D’you want to join me, you two?”

“Well, sure, Sophie,” said Justin with a smile. “But aren’t you with someone?”

“I was. But not now. Come on! I could do with the company.”

The three of them sat together and exchanged life histories. Ashley and Justin had both gained promotion and more responsibility in their own careers and were very impressed by the huge turn-about in Sophie’s career.

“Don’t you miss the money and excitement?” Justin asked.

“Not really. It’s not something I’d have been able to keep up forever. I’m over thirty now, after all.”

“Bloody hell!” said Justin, still grinning with evident pleasure at meeting his old friend again. “So, you are! Over thirty! Grim, isn’t it? Growing old and everything!” He stood up. “Look, your glass is empty. What do you want to drink?”

Sophie was then left alone with Ashley while Justin made his way to the bar. She was relieved that Ashley seemed genuinely excited to meet her, which was in such acute contrast to the first time they met all those years ago. Surprisingly, it was Ashley who was the most enthusiastic of the couple, eager to fill Sophie in on the lives of people whom Sophie had never really known that well and on the benefits of the life of domestic bliss she and Justin were enjoying. She was especially happy that Sophie was herself looking forward to settling down with Malcolm.

It was so different in the Star and Garter when they first met. Indeed, when she arrived, late as usual, she didn’t expect to see Justin sitting with anyone. Normally when Sophie met Justin he would be patiently working his way through a newspaper crossword or playing solitaire on his PDA. He’d got resigned to Sophie’s unreliability, which was just as well as there were times when Sophie didn’t make the appointment at all.

Today, however, Justin was sitting next to someone else and a woman at that. Compared to the buxom, peroxided, heavily made-up women of Sophie’s normal acquaintance, this woman was decidedly plain. Her hair was short, her clothes were rather ordinary and functional, and she even wore glasses. She wasn’t unattractive, though. It was just that nothing proclaimed her beauty in an obvious way.

“This is Ashley,” said Justin, who was squeezing the girl’s hand. “We’ve been seeing each other for about a week now. And when I said I was going to the pub, she asked if she could come along. You don’t mind, do you, Sophie?”

“Of course not,” said Sophie with a barely contained snarl. “Why should I?”

She sat down on the seat opposite Ashley and glowered at her while Justin stood up to buy the drinks with the twenty pound note Sophie forced into his hand.

Ashley was nervous. She smiled shyly.

“So you’re Sophie? Justin’s friend. He’s told me about you,” she said. “Not a lot, but he said you work in the media.”

Sophie pulled a cigarette out of a packet and lit it. There was nothing about her casual clothes that announced which aspect of the media she was associated with, but Sophie didn’t intend to leave Ashley uninformed for long.

“Media? Yeah, that’s right. Media.”

“That must be really exciting.”

“It is,” agreed Sophie, blowing smoke out of her mouth and not caring that it got in Ashley’s eyes. “Especially if you like fucking as much as I do.”

Ashley swallowed and ruffled her brow. “Sorry? Did you say…?”

“Fucking. That’s what I do. Fucking! I’m a fucking porn star. The real fucking deal. Didn’t Justin sweetie tell you? I fuck for a living and get paid for being filmed doing it. And you know what?”

“No?” asked Ashley in a low voice.

“I fucking love it! It’s fucking great! And Justin didn’t say a word?”

Ashley shook her head and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Her eyes flew all around the place, partly towards Sophie and partly towards Justin at the bar. This was not a situation she wanted to be in.

“Justin didn’t say anything?” Sophie persisted.

“He just said the media,” said Ashley in a low voice.

“Yeah. I star in porn films. The type you see in basements in Soho. Busty Babes Eat Each Other. Anal Excursions. Blow Job Honeys. You ever seen any of them?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“It’s not simulated. It’s the real deal. Two cocks front and back. Spunk all over the face. And most of all, I like doing girls.”

“Girls?” wondered Ashley, looking at alarm at Justin, who was returning with glasses of beer and wine.

It was Sophie who spoke to Justin as he sat down, clearly aware from Ashley’s face that the conversation wasn’t exactly going well.

“Shame on you, Just,” said Sophie. “You never told your little sweetheart what I do for a living.”

Justin bit his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure that you’d want me to.”

“Why should I be bothered? It’s what I do. And fucking with girls is what I like doing most. Strap-ons and dildos, fisting and fingers, I love it. Do you like it, Ashley? Is that what you’d want to do?”

Ashley looked down nervously at her drink. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Y’ought to try it, sweetie,” sniffed Sophie. “I can give you a lesson if you like.”

“Lesson?”

“You know. Bit of girl-on-girl. That appeal to you? I won’t charge you.”

“Sophie!” Justin blurted. “What’s going on? You’re not usually like this! What’s got into you?”

“Don’t be soft, Just,” Sophie continued, blowing out smoke through her mouth. “Bit of fun never hurt anyone. What d’you think, Just? You wanna join in?”

“I thought we were friends, Sophie. If I’d known you were gonna be like this, I’d never…”

“Never what?” Sophie asked with a sneer.

“Never, you know, never have come out to see you this evening with Ashley.”

“What? Would you keep me your dirty little secret, lover boy?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s just…”

“Oh! Don’t mind me, Justin. Don’t fucking mind me. What about you, Ashley? What do you think, eh?”

Ashley gripped Justin’s hand in hers and glared back at Sophie. This act of proprietary ownership troubled Sophie, but she pretended to ignore it.

“What do you mean?” Ashley asked.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. She looked at Justin, who was distinctly uneasy but gripped her hand rather more tightly than before.

The conversation continued in this vein. Sophie taunted Justin for his reluctance in telling Ashley what she did for a living, fantasized what it would be like for Ashley to have sex with her, and made some unkind comments about Justin’s sexuality.

“In all the time I’ve known him he’s been like some poof. Is he like that with you, sweetie? Or perhaps he’s got no prick to speak of. Have you and Justin fucked together?”

“What a question!” said Ashley angrily.

“Don’t be a prude! You haven’t, have you? He’s fucking impotent, isn’t he?”

“Well, actually…” began Ashley tentatively, and then she thought better of what she was about to say. “Look, Sophie. It’s obvious you don’t like me. What I do or what I’ve done with Justin is really not your business.”

“Well, really!” said Sophie affronted.

“Come on, Justin!” Ashley commanded, standing up with her glass of wine still mostly untouched. “This is not what I was hoping for when I agreed to come out with you.”

“But I…” said Justin, still holding his pint of beer.

“Leave it!” Ashley commanded. “We’ll go to another pub if it’s a beer you want.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” asked Sophie in mock sympathy. “Don’t you want to know what Justin’s friends are like?”

“That’s not it,” said Ashley aggressively as she sidled out of her seat and buttoned up her jacket. “It’s not what Justin’s friends are like. It’s what you’re like. I wasn’t expecting anything like this at all. Justin told me that you and he were just friends.”