Chapter 1

Why is college so expensive? I got lucky when I received a partial scholarship in my sophomore year, but now in my last semester as a senior, that money is long gone. I had to scrape together the money for my tuition payment last semester and my current job barely covers my rent. I can't seem to save enough money to get ahead or cover the last few classes I need before graduation.

My parents try to send what money they can, but with four younger brothers—one that's in college and one that is a ravenous athlete—they barely have enough money for them. I can't add to their troubles.

Sighing, I toss my backpack on the couch and flop down, glad my roommate isn't here yet. Dario is a good guy, but he likes to talk and ask questions about my day and I'm in no mood for it. Today, I need to figure out how I'm going to get the money to cover my tuition or four years of education will be down the drain. I can't go back to my dead-end town, working at a big box store or factory until I drop dead. There's nothing wrong with those jobs—they pay decently and have benefits—but that's not my dream. My dream is to open my own fitness center and my degree in business management will get me there.

What won't get me there? Wallowing about not having enough money to cover my tuition.

Sighing longer and harder than I did before, I reach into my backpack and dig my laptop out. I pull up job listings for my area and come up with absolutely nothing. Everything either needs degrees I don't have or experience that would take me a decade to amass.

Giving up as suddenly as I start, I slam my laptop down just as Dario comes in. He looks at me with concern when he sees how roughly I'm handling my expensive laptop. It's the one thing I've spent excessive money on, a fact he well knows as I've grumbled to him about it.

"You okay, bro?" he asks, eyebrow raised as he tosses his backpack on the floor.

That's what I mean about Dario asking questions. Sure, it's harmless, but it's rare that I can get away with being bummed out without him wanting to know if I want to talk about it. I really don't, but his question seems to have unlocked some irritated part of me. Even though I don't want to talk, I answer his question, I may need to bounce some ideas off him, see if he can help me come up with a solution. "No, I'm not. My tuition payment is due in three weeks, and I don't even have a quarter of it. I'm three months away from graduation, but I don't think I'll make this last payment."

"That blows," he says, shaking his head. "I know you said your folks can't help you, but is there anyone else?"

Leaning back into the cushions, I dig my fists into my eyes until colors pop behind my lids. Even then I don't let up. "No. I wish. It wouldn't be a problem if I had gotten even one of the scholarships I applied for this year."

"I'm sorry, dude."

Sitting up, I look at Dario with a sad smile. "It's fine. I'll figure something out."

Dario stares at me long and hard, as if he's trying to analyze me. It's a little unnerving. Tentatively he says, "I can probably help. You might not be interested, but it's good money. All legal," he rushes to say when I open my mouth.

"Yeah? Tell me! I'll literally do anything. I just need a job for a few months."

"You say that now. I'm sure when you find out what it is, you won't sound so sure." He stands and ambles over to the kitchen, digging around in our junk drawer and pulling out some papers. He shuffles through an envelope and pulls out a card.

I take it from his hand and look at it. "Jake Mallard. Who's that?"

"A guy I work with. He owns a video distribution company. They need someone for a spot they have open. Urgently. I'm sure he'd hire you on the spot. But you have to be into it."

I nod, flipping the card over and finding an office phone number. "What's the position?"

Smiling slyly, he says, "They need a fluffer."

My eyebrows furrow. "A fluffer? For like pillows and shit?"

Dario stares at me for a moment, then laughs. He laughs so hard, tears roll down his eyes. "Oh god. Do not look it up. Come on, we're going to see Jake now. He'll get a kick out of that, then he can tell you about the position. You down?"

Shrugging, I pull on my jacket, grab my wallet and follow Dario out the door. I'm not sure why it's so urgent, but whatever. If he can hook me up with a job, I'll fluff the shit out of whatever needs fluffing.

Is it some kind of home decor thing? It sounds like a decor thing, like puffing up pillows and staging homes or something. From what I know about Dario, he works on a clean-up crew. I'm not sure where, but he makes pretty good money. Enough to pay his tuition, cover our groceries every week, and pay all his bills in advance. I wanted to ask him before to get me in where he works, but always lost my nerve. I hate asking for handouts. Right now isn't the time to be proud, though. I need money.

"So what? I fluff pillows and shit at the distribution company? That can't pay well."

Dario's lips twitch, as if he's fighting back a smile. "Oh, for what you'll be doing, you'll be paid very well."

I sure hope so. That's if I get hired. I don't have much work history. I've worked at my current job since freshman year, so I guess they can say I'm dependable. And I can stack some shelves and put stuff back where it goes. Other than that, I don't know shit about fuck.

We travel about twenty miles outside the city, where concrete buildings and alleys meet lush green fields and rolling hills. What could possibly be out here? I've never heard of any distribution company in this town. I didn't know there was a movie distribution company anywhere in Georgia except for Atlanta. Having one in small Speartree Falls is a little weird.

Shaking my head, I decide not to ask questions and lean back against the seat, eyes closed. I'm sure all questions will be answered in due time. Right now, I need to focus on doing well for this interview. Sure, I wasn't called in for it or anything, but Dario knows the owner. Even if Dario puts in a good word for me, I have to impress the owner so I don't make my roommate look like a jackass that refers people that can't pull their weight. Regardless of if I know about fluffing pillows and staging homes or not, I have to give a good first impression. Firm handshake, eye contact and active listening. That's what my freshmen orientation class said you should do at job interviews. Let's hope that works this time.

We pull up to what looks like an overhauled barn, with some added on features. Maybe more rooms? I can't see since the doors are closed, but its bigger than any barn I've ever seen, with windows dotted around here and there and a side door that looks like it's on those rolling hinges. It's like the places you see on movies when they show what Hollywood looks like. There are about five trailers off to the side that add to the big movie studio vibes. Almost like someone famous is going to burst out, asking for some Grey Poupon. I smile, liking it here already. I'm not sure what a fluffer does, but if I get to work on a location like this, I'm all for it.

"This place is awesome!" I tell Dario as we get out. I spin around as we walk, taking it all in. "They have a gym in here?"

Dario gives me a weird look. "No. It's just a studio. You won't have time to work out while you're here anyway." His lip twitches again. I'm starting to think it's some inside joke that no one told me the punchline to.

Still, I shrug. I usually get my workouts in right after class, but if I'm working here—and the money is right—I'll have to rearrange my training schedule.

Instead of going into the converted barn like I think we will, Dario leads me in the direction of the last trailer. It has a sign on the front door that reads Jake Mallard: Director. Dario knocks and we wait for a moment until we're called to enter.

We step inside and the man behind the desk looks over from his computer at us. "Dario. What's up, man? How can I help you?" He presses a few more buttons, then smiles at us, giving us his undivided attention. "I don't have you on shift today."

"I'm good. I'm not on shift, but there's something I want to talk to you about. I found you a fluffer," Dario says, thumbing my way.

The man behind the desk—Jake, I presume—looks over at me, eyeing me up and down. "Him? You sure?"

Dario shrugs. "He needs the money."

"What's his name?"

"Clayton."

Tired of them talking around me, I step up beside Dario. "Call me Clay."

The man behind the desk finally looks over at me. "Jake."

"Well, Jake. I'm not good at, like, decorating shit, but I can fluff pillows or whatever you need."

Jake gapes at me and I see Dario trying to fight back a smile from the corner of my eye. "Kid," Jake starts, standing up and coming around the desk, leaning against it. "Do you know what a fluffer is?"

I shake my head. "But if it pays well, I can figure it out. I need money for my tuition."

Sighing, Jake crosses his arms. "Let me ask you something, kid." I bristle at him calling me kid, but I nod. "Are you interested in men? That's to say, would you touch one sexually?"

"Probably not. Why are you asking me that?" My eyebrows furrow as I look back and forth between Dario and Jake. What kind of question is that and what does it have to do with pillows? "What's this about?"

Pushing off his desk, Jake looks at Dario. "Not my fluffer. Find someone that's into it. I won't have someone in here that can't handle the work or makes my guys uncomfortable for a paycheck."

"Wait!" I shout unnecessarily in this enclosed space. "What does this have to do with fluffing pillows and arranging furniture?"

"Fucking hell," Jake says, looking at the ceiling. "That ain't the gig, kid. A fluffer keeps my actors dicks hard during or between scenes. I own and operate Carnal Desires Studios." He pauses and meets my eyes. "A gay porn studio."

Eyes wide, I look over at Dario. "You work for a gay porn studio?"

Dario shrugs. "I work in set design."

I shove him in the shoulder. "You told me you were a janitor."

"Most people can accept that better than me telling them I set up places for dudes to get fucked in the ass."

Jake interrupts our conversation. "That's why I need to know if you'd touch a man sexually. If you're not down to fluff my guys, you can't be my fluffer. Besides, I'm not in this business to make straight guys do anything they don't want to."

Any other time, I would agree. I mean, what the fuck? Keeping a guys dick hard so he can fuck someone else? Why can't the person he's fucking keep his dick hard? No woman I've been with has made me soft while we were fucking. So, what's the point of having a … fluffer?

I scoff, thinking about the name. Really fucking misleading. They need to call it something else. Like professional masturbator or something. Handjob on demand specialist.

Could I do the work? Could I do whatever Jake needs me to do so I can get paid? How badly do I want to finish college?

But wait, I don't have to be in the movie. If I'm keeping someone hard between scenes, I'm off to the side. No one has to see me doing it. The world won't know I worked as a fluffer. I can handle that, right?

It's not like it would be difficult. I can keep a dick hard. I've been touching mine for years and I'm good at jerking off. Even after years of doing it, I can get myself off in three minutes or less. That's not with regular sex, mind you, only with my own hand. I have stamina.

Besides, I can do the job for a few months until I get the money for my last tuition payment. Easy. Just jerk a few dicks, get a check, graduate and open my wellness center. Sounds like a plan to me.

Throwing myself off the cliff, I ask, "What's the pay?"

"Three grand a day."

Holy shit. That's a lot of money. And all I have to do is jerk some dicks? I will start doing wrists exercises now if it means I can get that much money every time I come to work.

"How often am I paid?" I ask, already saying the job is mine.

With a sideways smirk, Jake says, "I'll wire you the money after every session. If I hire you."

Fighting not to sound too eager, I ask, "What do you need me to do?"

Jake assesses me, looking me up and down. "Turn around."

Not sure what the fuck, I do what he says and turn around. I feel his eyes on my ass and my face heats. I have a good ass, with all the squats I do, but that has nothing to do with my hands or keeping someone hard. Does it?

After what seems like forever, I turn back around. "Satisfied? When do I start?"

"Hold on kid. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Hmm. Let me get my guy in here. I want to see you work."

I gulp as he picks up his phone and shoots off a quick text. "Work how? I can do whatever you need me to do. I'm not desperate, but I'm pretty damn close."

Jake gives me an almost gentle look. "This work ain't for everyone, kid. I know you said you need money and I'll give you the job so you can have your tuition payments, but I can't have you going on the floor and freezing up when I need you. I need to make sure before I give the okay and have you fill out a bunch of paperwork that you can handle this job. Once I know you won't clam up with a dick in front of you, we can start the onboarding process."

Well, guess I'll have to put my money where my mouth is. Or where my hands are.