The golden autumn sun flowed across the immaculately-landscaped grounds of Cavanagh House like honey.

Hannah and Jonas walked together companionably, only the steady crunch of the gravel beneath their feet and the distant sigh of the breeze stirring the trees breaking the silence. Then, as they neared a broad lake, Jonas knelt, took up a smooth stone, and sent it skimming out over the water.

Hannah sighed softly. He moved so gracefully, this beautiful man with the devilish, crooked grin...

He looked up before she could hide her admiration, and smiled as her cheeks coloured. "So," he said, straightening. "Where were we?"

"Luck," said Hannah. "You said it ran out."

He nodded, and for a moment his expression was sombre, thoughtful. "Yes," he said after a moment. "Yes, I guess it did."

* * * * *

After my first professional shoot in Los Angeles, I settled into a regular, predictable routine. I got out of the semi-derelict hotel as soon as I could, and rented a modest apartment in Wilshire. I would be called to a set two or three times a week, at first - then, as Daniel discovered the extent of my stamina, he upped the rate to four or five. The work was hardly arduous - at the most, a shoot was five hours, and the vast majority of the people I met were educated, talkative and friendly. Of course, there were exceptions, but fewer than you might expect.

Between shoots, I'd explore the city, just picking a random direction and walking until I got tired. I grew accustomed to being by myself, though Carla was a frequent companion - after the first month or so, she would show up unannounced at my door and we'd have dinner or go to a movie, then find our way home to her place or mine and lazily, indulgently fuck until morning. She was an amazing lover - and, I began to realise, a wonderful friend.

I'd like to tell you that the memories of Jane faded. They didn't, of course. They're still as raw today as they were the night I ran away from her party.

After my third month in LA, Daniel convinced me to hire him as a semi-permanent manager, and he began to pick me up higher-paying jobs with more prestigious studios. I refused to think too hard about the future, content to enjoy my notoriety and disposable income. I went to the locations Daniel gave me, fucked whoever needed to be fucked, and went home.

In some ways, it wasn't much of a life. But at the same time, I was happy.

But it wasn't going to last.

The end came when I received a phone call one bright morning from Daniel. He told me he had a job lined up if I could get across the city in a little over an hour. I didn't have anything planned, so I threw on my clothes, caught a cab, and met Daniel at a bar we both knew. We exchanged pleasantries, then he led me across the street to a low-rent commercial building. "The shoot's in the basement," he told me as we walked. "The director's an old friend of mine, we go way back in the business. She's a real perfectionist, a real pro. She doesn't usually work with new actors, so I coulda shit when she called and asked for you."

I remained silent, content for Daniel to carry the conversation himself. We let ourselves into the building, and found a long staircase that led down to a large, spacious cellar. An imposing-looking door blocked our way, but Daniel knocked loudly and it swung open. The room beyond was obviously our studio - a couple of bright spotlights were trained on a circular bed, draped in thick sheets of burgundy velvet. Laying on the bed, completely naked, was a figure that I took to be a pubescent girl - slender, gangly limbs, and small, puffy breasts, with the face of a middle-American teen sweetheart and an expression of utter contentment. She was stroking her sharp, manicured nails over her stomach, thighs and breasts - I thought for a moment that we had interrupted her scene, but then noticed that the two cameramen who were in attendance were chatting quietly in a corner, barely glancing up as Daniel and I entered the room.

"Hey," sighed the girl on the bed with a lazy wave. "Are you here to play?"

I glanced at Daniel. "I think so," I said slowly, approaching her. The closer I got, the younger she looked. My stomach was tight with foreboding. "I'm Jonas."

"Oh, I've seen you! You've got a big one!" she giggled. I opened my mouth to reply, but Daniel caught my arm and steered me away from her.

"Girl's a little excitable," he said with a shrug that was almost obscenely expressive on his short, stumpy frame. "Come meet Paula." He led me away from the set, to where an attractive blonde woman in her mid-forties was squinting at a monitor. Daniel cleared his throat, and the woman looked up.

"Daniel fucking Parker," she said with a broad smile. "How you doing?"

"I'm just fine, Paula," Daniel replied with as much charm as I'd ever seen him muster. "It's been too long. This is Jonas."

She offered me her hand, and I shook it warmly. "Heard a lot about you, Jonas. Seen a lot, too. Yours in the name on everyone's lips."

"Thank you," I said graciously. "I'm still finding my feet in the industry."

She tilted her head to one side. "You don't look happy."

"Yeah," I said with small, tight smile. "Is that the woman I'll be working with today?" I asked, gesturing discreetly at the girl on the bed.

"Yeah, that's Stacey. She's really looking forward to this."

"Isn't she... a little young?" I said softly.

Paula blinked, and looked at Daniel. "Is your boy here really suggesting that I'd hire an underage actress?" she asked without a trace of humour.

"No, no, of course not!" Daniel said with a nervous grin. "He's - he's just, y'know British. Likes to be careful."

"If she was underage," Paula told me in a cool tone, "I'd be in prison by the end of the week. It's not worth the risk. She's fine, trust me."

"And... she's high," I said uncomfortably, acutely aware of Daniel's furious expression.

Paula sighed, and leaned a little closer to me. "Kid," she said conspiratorially, "you're quite the star around here. Stacey's just starting out, and she was nervous. So she's a little coked up. Don't worry about it. Just relax, and we'll all have some fun."

I frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. I'd been around the industry for long enough to know that a lot of the actors self-medicated for less convincing reasons.

"Good," said Paula with a fleeting smile. "Go get ready."

I nodded again, and began my usual pre-scene ritual, walking around the set, getting the feel of the space, saying hi to the camera guys and making myself comfortable. The whole time, Stacey didn't move from the bed - she just lay there, completely uncovered, slowly stroking her manicured fingernails over her firm, pert tits.

"Nothing fancy today," Paula said as I finally shed my clothes and stretched. Stacey's eyes were on my body the entire time, wide and unblinking. "We've already shot the solo stuff, so you're just a cock-for-hire. Fuck her good - and we're going for the creampie shot, so be sure and cum deep inside her."

I nodded in understanding, and rubbed the hardening length of my cock with both hands, encouraging it to its full length. "How do you want to start?" I asked Stacey with what I hoped was a charming grin, but she simply leaned back on the bed and spread her long, smooth legs. Her pussy was little more than a neat slit, completely devoid of hair. She looked like a child.

I shot Paula a glance, but she was staring intently at the monitors. I shook my head. Don't be stupid. She was telling the truth. Of course the girl is legal.

Primed for action, I knelt on the bed between Stacey's outstretched legs and leaned over her, smelling the mingled scents of her perfume and arousal. She giggled girlishly as I rubbed my blunt cock-head against her pussy, wetting the tip with the oils that were slick on her lips.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she murmured sleepily, he eyes wide. I swallowed. It was a strange experience to be so close to someone as high as Stacey undoubtedly was whilst being perfectly sober. Professionalism, I reminded myself, and slowly eased the heavy bulb of my cockhead into her.

She gasped, and groaned, and a tremor ran through her from her toes to her fingertips.

She was hot inside, and amazingly tight. With slow, gentle strokes, I began to pump more of my flesh into her, driving her hips into the mattress with each thrust, her pelvis following mine with each retreat, her vice-tight pussy unwilling to give up its new toy. I grunted softly with the effort of digging my flesh into her, feeling her yield slowly, reluctantly...

"Drive it deeper," called Paula from her bank of monitors.

"There's nowhere else to go," I said, rocking my cock backwards and forwards inside Stacey, who moaned hungrily. She was utterly full, I was sure.

"Don't be shy. Split her open. She wants it, don't you Stacey?"

"Oh, I fucking want it," Stacey breathed hotly. "Mm, Stacey wants it all!"

"Alright," I said doubtfully. "If you want me to stop, just say so," I told Stacey, and she nodded happily, her preternaturally bright eyes sparkling. Slowly at first, I began to rock my shaft deeper into her - her cunt gripped my cock tightly, begrudging me every inch of motion, her copious juices doing little to ease my passage into her. I grasped the base of my dick and began to rotate it, working the length around inside her as she moaned and shuddered.

"More," called Paula. I grimaced, but tried to obey - my cock felt as if Stacey could snap it in half at any moment. Her slender, youthful body was straining to contain the fat nine inches of shaft that was grinding into her, and the thought of stuffing the rest of my prick into her was daunting.

But something had happened to Stacey - her eyes had rolled back in her head, her eyelids flickering frantically as she thrust against me, her back arched, hungrily seeking more. Her tiny pussy was spasming rhythmically, and every time it relaxed another slick half-inch pumped into her. Deeper. Harder. I gasped - this girl, this nymph, was taking every inch of my even, though it must have been agony.

"Oh my fucking God!" she panted. "You're tearing me up, Mister! You're - oh, fuck, no! You're going to fucking kill me!"

I stilled for a moment, looking over at Paula to see if this was part of the script, but Stacey took the opportunity to dig her fingernails into the velvet sheets and fuck herself into me, her sharp hips prominent as my heavy balls slapped her ass - and then, she screamed, a sound of pure agonised ecstasy that meant either that she was coming hard, or that she had been telling the truth, and I was killing her.

She spasmed violently for almost a minute before her breathing slowed and she collapsed onto the bed, her clenching muscles forcing my softening dick from her body. I stepped backwards, fresh doubt blossoming in my mind. Something here was wrong.

"Oh, I think that should do it," said an unfamiliar voice. I looked up to see a man in an elegant suit standing with Paula. I didn't recognise him - but Daniel obviously did.

"What the fuck do you want here, Mac?" Daniel spat, the words harsh in the still air. I drew a long breath, sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere.

The man ignored the question. "Paula, my dear, thanks so much. You can get out of here, and take your girl with you. Your account is settled in full."

Paula lowered her eyes, then stood up and crossed the room to the bed. "Come on, Stacey," she said, taking the naked girl's hand. Stacey paused, kissed me sloppily, murmured, "You're the best," against my lips, and allowed the older woman to lead her away. At a gesture, the two camera operators followed after her. I watched them leave, a cold weight settling in the pit of my stomach.

"I hope you don't mind if I'm somewhat terse," the man said, coming forward to the bed, "but I have a lunch meeting. But I'm told you're an intelligent young man, so this shouldn't take long." He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope. He held it gently for a moment, then passed it to me. I opened it, and inside was a folded document.

"That," the man said, "is a copy of Stacey's birth certificate. If you look closely, you'll see that the pretty young thing you were so recently inside is fourteen years old." He held up a hand. "I apologise for the deception, but you, Mr. Randall, are too good an opportunity to pass up."

"Who the hell are you?" I asked numbly, my hands shaking. Fourteen?

"Francis Macintosh. People call me Mac. I'm an investor."

"You're a fucking criminal," growled Daniel.

Mac spread his hands apart in a gesture of innocence. "Morality is rarely so simple, Parker. Your young friend here fucks women for money. You exploit him for profit. We are all standing in the shadows."

"I take good care of the kid," Daniel protested, his face ashen.

Mac smiled. "Yes, well. No more. Jonas is coming to work for me, now. He's going to do everything he's told, and no-one ever needs to see the film of him forcibly raping a young girl." He glanced at his watch. "As I said, I'm short of time." He pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out to me. I didn't move. He smiled again, without a trace of humour or humanity, and threw the card on the bed. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, Jonas. Don't be late." He turned to leave, and paused in the doorway, turning back to regard Daniel coldly. "And I wouldn't do anything silly, if I were you, Parker. I'm perfectly content to ruin the boy's career and see him rot in prison - but you, I think, would require a more direct and permanent punishment." He let the threat hang in the air, then smiled coldly. "Good day, gentlemen."

Daniel and I were silent for long, heavy moments after he left. Finally, I got to my feet. "What are we going to do, Daniel?" I asked. "He can't get away with this -"

"He can, kid." Daniel shook his head. "Listen to me carefully, Jonas. You've learned a lot, but there's still a lot you don't know." He lowered his voice. "Do not fuck with Mac. Do whatever he asks, whatever he says."

"There must be something I can do," I said stubbornly, but Daniel shook his head.

"He's a paranoid son of a bitch, and if he even thinks you're not perfectly loyal - kid, he's not going to waste time with that video. He'll put a bullet in you. Just - I'm sorry, Jonas, but you're working for him now."

"I'll think of something."

"No."

"I'm not prepared to -"

"You dumb fucking kid, listen to what I'm telling you! This ain't a movie! Mac ain't gunna let you go 'cause you outsmart him, or 'cause you appeal to his better nature. Just keep your head down, do whatever he says, and your life won't be so bad. I should go."

I stared at the floor, my cheeks burning with anger. Daniel sighed, and trudged toward the door. "It's been fun, Jonas. Don't do anything stupid."

How long I stayed alone in that room, the air thick with the scents of sex and corruption, I don't know. When I finally shook myself out of it, pulled on my clothes and left, the sky was darkening toward evening. As I walked the streets, passing block after block, seeing the sordid, casual violence of the city unfolding around me, the reality of my situation became inescapable.

I belonged to Mac. And I had no idea what that would mean.

* * * * *

They had stopped walking now, and stood by the lake as ripples drifted across the calm surface, the air suddenly cool as they stood in the shadow of ancient oaks.

Hannah's eyes were wide. "I had no idea," she breathed.

"No," Jonas said wryly. "It wasn't common knowledge, and those who did know didn't care. There were plenty of people in the industry who were willing to overlook Mac's worse traits because he gave them a good return on their investments." He shook his head. "I couldn't imagine things getting any worse."

"But they did?" Hannah asked softly.

Jonas smiled, and ran his fingers through his hair boyishly, then pointedly changed the subject. "Would you join me for dinner? I hate eating alone."

"I'd - your wife isn't here?"

"No, she'll be back later tonight. There's plenty of time for us to talk more, unless you have to leave?"

Hannah blushed, and forced herself to meet his gaze. "No, I - I'd love to have dinner with you. After all, I want to hear what happened next."

Jonas' grin broadened, offered her his arm, and they began the long walk back to the house.