#interactive advertising agency

[tagbin-india]

Experiential Marketing: Transforming Customer Engagement in 2024

Experiential marketing is revolutionizing how brands interact with consumers, fostering emotional connections and memorable experiences. In an era where customer attention is scarce, experiential marketing offers a unique way for brands to stand out. By creating interactive, sensory-driven experiences, businesses can form stronger relationships with their audiences, boost brand loyalty, and ultimately drive business growth.This article will explore the concept of experiential marketing, its key benefits, and how brands like Tagbin are leveraging it to redefine customer engagement.

What is Experiential Marketing?

Experiential marketing, also known as engagement marketing or live marketing, involves creating immersive, interactive brand experiences that engage customers on a deeper level. Unlike traditional advertising, experiential marketing focuses on participation and interaction rather than passive consumption of messages.

The goal is to create a memorable experience that connects emotionally with consumers. Instead of telling customers about a product or service, brands invite them to experience it firsthand. From pop-up events to interactive product demonstrations, experiential marketing brings the brand to life.

Key Elements of Experiential Marketing:

Interactivity: Customers actively participate in the experience.

Emotional Connection: Experiences evoke emotions, making them memorable.

Personalization: Customization based on individual preferences and interests.

Storytelling: Using narratives to make the experience more impactful.

Why is Experiential Marketing Important?

With consumers being bombarded by thousands of ads daily, it’s becoming harder for brands to capture attention. Experiential marketing solves this problem by creating personalized, memorable experiences that leave a lasting impact. Here’s why it’s crucial for modern businesses:

1. Builds Brand Loyalty

Emotional experiences foster stronger relationships with customers.

Consumers are more likely to remember and stay loyal to brands they’ve had positive experiences with.

2. Drives Customer Engagement

Experiential marketing encourages customers to actively engage with the brand.

This increased engagement leads to higher brand recall and stronger brand advocacy.

3. Generates Viral Content

Unique, memorable events are shared on social media, amplifying the brand’s reach.

Customers become brand ambassadors by sharing their experiences online.

4. Enhances Customer Insights

Brands can collect real-time feedback from participants.

Insights gathered from customer interactions help brands refine their strategies.

5. Differentiates Brands from Competitors

While traditional ads can be ignored, experiential marketing grabs attention and sets brands apart.

Offering a unique experience gives brands a competitive edge.

How Does Tagbin Leverage Experiential Marketing?

Tagbin, a leading tech-driven experiential marketing company, blends creativity and technology to create transformative brand experiences. By integrating AR, VR, and other immersive technologies, Tagbin crafts interactive experiences that captivate audiences.

Tagbin’s Approach to Experiential Marketing:

Interactive Brand Activations: Tagbin creates on-ground activations where consumers engage directly with the brand through touchscreens, AR filters, and live interactions.

Immersive Storytelling: Using virtual reality (VR) and augmented reality (AR), Tagbin designs immersive brand stories that make a lasting impression.

Tech-Driven Experiences: From AI-enabled kiosks to motion-sensor technology, Tagbin’s use of advanced tech elevates experiential marketing campaigns.

By combining storytelling with technology, Tagbin creates memorable brand experiences that not only drive engagement but also build brand loyalty.

Types of Experiential Marketing Campaigns

Here are some popular types of experiential marketing campaigns that brands can use to engage customers:

1. Pop-Up Events

Temporary brand activations in public spaces, such as malls or exhibitions.

Example: A cosmetics brand setting up a pop-up store where customers can try products in person.

2. Immersive Installations

Interactive exhibits or art installations where customers can engage with the brand.

Example: A fashion brand using projection mapping to showcase their clothing line.

3. Product Sampling and Demos

Hands-on product trials where customers can experience a product before purchase.

Example: A food brand offering taste-testing sessions at supermarkets.

4. Experiential Roadshows

Brands travel to multiple cities to bring their experience to a larger audience.

Example: An automotive company offering virtual test drives using VR headsets.

5. Live Brand Experiences

Live events, such as concerts or exhibitions, where brands engage with audiences.

Example: A beverage brand sponsoring a live music festival and setting up brand engagement zones.

Steps to Create a Successful Experiential Marketing Campaign

Step 1: Define Your Objectives

Set clear goals, such as brand awareness, lead generation, or product trials.

Step 2: Identify Your Target Audience

Understand customer pain points, preferences, and behavior to create a tailored experience.

Step 3: Design the Experience

Incorporate elements like storytelling, technology, and interactive touchpoints.

Step 4: Execute the Campaign

Deploy the campaign using experienced teams and track audience engagement.

Step 5: Measure Results

Collect customer feedback, monitor social media mentions, and track ROI.

Experiential marketing is a powerful tool for brands looking to engage consumers on a deeper level. By creating interactive and immersive experiences, brands can foster loyalty, generate user-generated content, and differentiate themselves from competitors. Companies like Tagbin are leading the charge, redefining how businesses approach marketing in 2024. Whether it's an immersive pop-up event or a VR-powered product demo, experiential marketing is here to stay, and brands that embrace it will have a competitive edge in the market.

Content Source-https://tagbintech.wordpress.com/2024/12/18/experiential-marketing-transforming-customer-engagement-in-2024/

[donotdestroy]

Donotdestroy.com is the website for Do Not Destroy, a creative agency established in 1998. The agency specializes in developing original design concepts, extending these ideas into various projects, and implementing strategic creative works for a range of high-profile clients. Over the years, it has collaborated with major brands and companies like Adidas, Coca-Cola, Microsoft, Electronic Arts, and MTV, among others. Their expertise spans strategy, creative direction, technology, and applied entertainment, including work on digital media, branding campaigns, and interactive design.

By ChatGPT

[arifahmed54]

[shehab1412]

How Holographic technology  Changing Events and Exhibitions

Holographic technology is revolutionizing events and exhibitions by creating immersive, 3D visual experiences that go beyond traditional displays. Holograms offer depth and realism, making images appear as if they are floating in the air and allowing viewers to see them from different angles. This creates a more engaging and interactive experience for the audience, whether at a product launch, art exhibition, or healthcare training event.

Advantages of Holographic Technology for Events:

Captivating Visual Impact: Holograms grab attention with their lifelike, floating visuals, making them perfect for standing out in competitive exhibition environments.

Enhanced Engagement: Holograms encourage interaction, making the experience more memorable and engaging for attendees.

Space and Cost Efficiency: Holograms replace physical objects, saving space and transportation costs while offering full-size, realistic displays.

Future-Forward Branding: Using holograms positions a brand as innovative and tech-savvy, which is especially beneficial for tech and art industries.

Key Features of Holograms:

3D Projection: Provides depth and realism, making the image feel live and interactive.

Interactive Capabilities: Attendees can interact with holograms using hand gestures, voice, or touch.

Flexibility: Holograms can be displayed in various formats, from floating images to enclosed boxes.

Portability: Despite their high-quality visuals, holographic setups are easy to transport and install.

Types of Holograms for Events:

Hologram Fan: Uses spinning LED lights to create 3D images, perfect for retail stores or trade shows.

Hologram Cube: Transparent screens arranged in a cube for 360-degree viewing, ideal for detailed designs or art displays.

Holobox: A clear box that creates a hologram of an object, often used for luxury items or small products.

Paramedic Hologram: Simulates medical procedures or emergencies for healthcare training and demonstrations.

Conclusion:

Holographic displays offer a futuristic, engaging way to present products and ideas at events. Whether it’s a hologram fan grabbing attention or a paramedic hologram providing medical training, holography adds a unique and interactive touch, making events more memorable and impactful. As technology advances, holograms are becoming an essential tool for brands, artists, and educators to connect with audiences in innovative ways.

[jacekpawlakpl]

Strony internetowe Lublin Jacek Pawlak

Phone: +48 571 272 785

Website: https://jacekpawlak.pl/

Jacek Pawlak oferuje profesjonalne usługi w zakresie tworzenia stron internetowych w Lublinie, zapewniając kompleksowe rozwiązania dostosowane do potrzeb każdego klienta. Specjalizuję się w projektowaniu responsywnych, atrakcyjnych wizualnie stron, które są jednocześnie funkcjonalne i przyjazne użytkownikom. Moja oferta obejmuje projektowanie graficzne, tworzenie stron internetowych oraz pozycjonowanie stron,co umożliwia osiągnięcie wysokiej widoczności w wyszukiwarkach i zwiększenie ruchu na stronie. Poza tworzeniem stron internetowych Zajmuję się też marketingiem internetowym i tworzę kampanie reklamowe na Facebooku.

Google Maps: https://maps.app.goo.gl/ZimXDi2nJmhKtViF8

[xtrablak674]

[Originally posted on Live Journal on Wednesday, May 17th 2000 at 12:43am, edited for clarity]

When you first walk into my apartment it smells tart. I know exactly what it is, but it still feels foreign. Its the chemical reaction that this neutralizer had to the paint peeler I am using, I have burned some incense to rectify the problem. It's 12:13am and I have just returned back from the movie, and other then the entire cast of The Best Man being in it, I enjoyed it.

Now I am chilling eating a butterscotch krimpet kake by TastyKake, my fingers still a little sticky with pineapple juice from the fruit I stopped and picked up after the movie. On my list of to-do's this evening other then doing this journal entry, which I really hope is going to help me find my writing voice again. I have to finish my application to the White Institute, I think I have completed it. I am happy with it as I can get with it and pleased this time I actually completed it. YEAH!

Anastasia is waiting patiently at my left, looking for an opportunity to jump on my lap. Since I am going to be on the computer for a bit I am opening tabs for my online friends, including johncamlive, christiangrantham.com, keithcam, and Pecsjockcam to whom even though I think he hates my guts I still watch religiously. I am an obsessive voyeur, but I guess its more interesting living other peoples lives then your own. (mental note: go back and make the links live of those site you mentioned)

Anyway, I am stuffing myself of this kake you would think I have never seen food before, and its not like my waistline need it. UGH! I have to send Jeff an email about the gym and his being my personal trainer. I really need to do some exercise other then pointing and clicking the mouse and tickling the keyboard. Too bad you can't get exercise thru you fingers cause if you did I would be such good shape :)

I have so much going on I don't know what to write about and what not to, I guess I should just continue stream of conscious until I am pooped and will do something else. I wish I could say I was horny, but I am not, I have really had NO sex drive lately, I don't know what that is all about, maybe its a good thing. There is one guy I have sex drive for and thats Tony the guy I am dating. He seems to be the only one who can get me horny or get me thinking about sex. Which is upsetting to me cause then it feels like I am committing more to him and I don't sort of want to. (mental note, put picture of Tony in journal)(mental note: begin researching new web host)

But anyway, I guess part of it is I spend so much time alone, which in away I enjoy since I don't like too much drama, but in other ways it gets a little tired, and I sometimes need outside stimulation other then the controlled environment of my DSL-jacked in all-the-time internet connection.

I am chilly let me put on a jacket, hold on...

Anyway....

So much is goin on with leaving kbp [kirshenbaum bond & partners] and all... its a little anti-climatic cause I won't let anyone do any big "to do" about me leaving, I am not trying to go out like that, I just want to be out, you know what I am saying I have been at the agency like goin on 4 years and its just time to get out in creation.

Its not goin to be easy and I know that the same kind of dysfunction that I got away with at kbp I am not going to be able to get away with at SFI, and I know it, and they are paying me nice cheddar so I can't be acting up... Well I can act up a little bit...

I have to speak briefly on my protégé Rob McFarland who I am leaving to the sharks, its so funny how your life can have so many mirrors about it. Rob is like a mirror to Choan my younger brother, who I am now not speaking to after his threatening me and disrespecting me over the phone, a kind of behavior I will not tolerate.

Anyway, Mr. McFarland (thats how I always refer to him) was telling me today he was so upset with me for leaving that he could punch me, which I just find so amusing. Rob like Choan is younger then me, Rob by 4 years at least compared to the two of Chaon, same general complexion as Choan paper-bag tan brown, and hot tempered. I do hope Rob will work on his temper and his anger, he has so much in him to give. I am hardly one to talk, I am quite overdue for some therapy myself, but I just hope he will be able to work well with the next people he has too. It was a blessing to both of us to work together, his being straight and my being the queerest thing since polyester. It made for a good challenge.

I actually had doubts about whether I could work with him or not, cause he was so straight and obviously homophobic (just like Choan) But his work was very tight, which allowed me to accept his learning curve... :) I am very happy to have hired him and to allow him the voice to get a better initial offer then what I offered, the boy has got skills he just needs to focus and he will do just fine.

I hope they will challenge him more then they did me. But time will tell. I think I should wrap up cause this is a long as entry and my fingers are getting tired and I do want to wrap up a few things, like checking the IMDB for the cast list of Love and Basketball and compare it to the one for The Best Man both of which Spike Lee was the producer for...anyway till next time. Peace&Blessings

[Wow, this is twenty four years ago! #NoWords The thing that was most surprising in revisiting this entry is the fact that I deliberately hired a homophobic assistant. It speaks to how clearly I prioritized my obligations to my race over those of my sexual identity. If I recall, I think I had a huge part in the final decision of who would be working under me, and I knew that it would be someone Black. I think I also wanted to pay forward the opportunity I was given having this corporate America job, which can be a very hard space for folks of color to thrive in.

I am blown away that Mr. McFarland thought it was remotely appropriate to threaten violence towards me in the work place, but as I recount at the time I was conflating my professional relationship with the personal relationship of my younger sibling. This is probably why I gave him a huge berth to basically be rude and inappropriate.

The other thing I actually like in this post is the nuance and detail. I am talking about the smells in the room, the taste of the food also the asides about other tasks I need to do. I was hoping to find my voice and I think my voice is very evident in the way that I recorded my feelings that evening. It feels like a time machine trip to that moment in my past where my life was in turmoil as I was leaving the security of one position and taking a risk on the dot-com era career jumping.

My gamble would ultimately not pay off, me being let go with basically the entire staff of the New York office. But this would lead me to my next journey which was me running my own branded website and identity materials firm.

A couple of explanatory commas, The William Alanson White Institute was an institution for training psychoanalysts and psychotherapists which also offers general psychotherapy and psychoanalysis. It is located in New York City, United States, on the Upper West Side, in the Clara Thompson building. It was founded as a protest against the mainstream of American psychoanalytic thought, which was thought to be sterile, dogmatic, and constrictive by the psychoanalysts who founded the institute. - via Wikipedia

I would soon thereafter start therapy with Dr. Anita close by in Park Slope. The therapy ultimately ended because in the corporate world I had such antagonistic relationships with whyte women, that I didn't really think I could find healing with a person who idealized for all intensive purposes my mortal enemy.

During Internet 1.0 webcam sites were very very popular along with reality TV shows like Big Brother, watching other people lives twenty-four hours a day every day was just huge. I was caught up in this trend preferring to watch other queer people, sometimes having multiple window open at a time. I have so many screen-grabs from this period, where it wasn't streaming video but more a refreshing picture every few seconds.

Twenty four years ago I had no idea what would become of this journal I was keeping. I don't even think I could visualize my future-self well enough to know if I would appreciate these missives or not. But I do, continually I am always proud of my past-self and the very good decisions I have made, I am not always saying the results were ideal, but the essence of the intention always shines through.

Photo by Brown Estate]

[icubeswiretechnologies]

iCubesWire: Your Ultimate Video Marketing Agency for Targeted Audience Engagement

Discover unparalleled interactive video ads with iCubesWire, your leading video marketing agency. Our expert team specializes in innovative interactive video advertising strategies, ensuring impactful and engaging campaigns. With a focus on creativity and technology, we elevate your brand's presence, driving maximum audience engagement. Experience the future of marketing with us!

[what-aboutno]

Chiluc actors au oughh

[digicomet]

The world of digital marketing is constantly evolving, and it’s no different in New Zealand. As businesses continue to embrace online marketing strategies to reach their target audience, the competition in the digital space is becoming fiercer than ever. This is where a digital marketing agency in New Zealand can make a huge difference.

Digital marketing agencies are the experts in the field, equipped with the knowledge and experience to help businesses build their brand, increase their online presence, and drive traffic to their websites. In this article, we’ll take a closer look at the benefits of working with a digital marketing agency in New Zealand.

[plainandgeneric]

Angry about Lore.fm the "AO3 Audible app"

For those who don't know, Lore.fm is an app that's advertised as "audible for AO3". It uses AI text-to-speech voices to read fics on an app completely separated from AO3 and creates a local copy of the fic audio on your device. It is stated to be non-profit.

1. It's opt-out not opt-in, that alone is a red flag and worthy of suspicion. The only way to not get your fic used without permission is to email them - it is unsafe and dubious to hand out personal email addresses to companies you don't know.

2. It takes engagement and agency away from the authors. Readers using this app don't even need to interact with the original AO3 post. Only a link is needed to generate the audio. An extension would've been significantly more ethical than an app.

3. Valid criticisms towards this project are labelled by the developer as "ableist and classist". Most devices and browsers already have FREE screen readers available. Especially for IOS (since this is mainly advertised for IOS), the existing built-in accessibility screen reader is very decent! I'd know cause I've been using it for more than a decade!

4. The developers show zero transparency. The devs listed for this app are also in a company that made an AI WRITING/STORYTELLING APP called Spinoff. The fact that this information is hidden on the appstore for Lore.fm tells me all that I need to know. I found the source for this on this comment by CupcakeBeautiful. [Edit: Unfortunately, the comment has been deleted by reddit for some reason, so I have removed the link to it.]

This whole thing pisses me off. Once again it shows that people don't respect and don't care about actual fic writers. I wish people would stop exploiting fanfiction authors under the guise of accessibility. Please think carefully if this is a company/project you'd want to support.

I don't usually post things like this on this blog, but I don't think a lot of people are aware of this situation on tumblr. Please feel free to add any information that I've missed. If this post comes off as aggressive, I apologise. I am just very frustrated.

[shellshocklove]

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping�� to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women���s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,

 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

© shellshocklove, 2023 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mxjackparker]

This sex worker OC ask list is to aid people in creating sex worker characters that are fully developed!

What is your character's real name and what is their work name (if different)?

What laws are in place on the topic of sex work in your setting, if any?

(Your setting might have full decriminalization, complete criminalization, or some variant of legalisation where independent indoor may be legal but brothels and street work aren't or where buying sex is illegal. You can read about different legal models here.)

How are sex workers treated in your setting?

(Consider whether bigotry and discrimination might exist and how it could impact your character and their friends. Are they able to pay money into the bank while admitting how they made it? Are they likely to be harassed by people who find out about their job? Is violence towards sex workers common?)

What is sex worker history like in your setting?

(Were there different laws in the past? Has bigotry against sex workers recently become better or worse? Is there any conflict between the religions in your setting and the practice of sex work?)

When did your character start sex work?

(Consider the age and also time period - things may have changed since they started it, including the way they work! Are they a veteran who would know a lot about the industry or a newbie?)

Why did they start sex work?

(People start for many reasons. Some do so out of financial hardship and a lack of access to other jobs, others do because the flexibility appeals to them as disabled and/or neurodivergent people, others enjoy sex or sexual performance, etc.)

In what venue do they do sex work?

(Are they a stripper who works from a strip club? A brothel worker? Someone who works from hotels for an agency? A phone sex operator who works from home?)

How do they advertise?

(Does their venue do all the advertising or do they post escorting ads online? Do they post on social media to advertise their porn?)

Who knows they do sex work?

(Family, friends, co-workers, other sex workers who they might work at the same venue as.)

Do they have any other jobs, and/or what work did they do prior to sex work (if any)?

(Sex workers have a high chance of having done care work or various minimum wage jobs before sex work or of being students, but can come from any background!)

Do they have other sex workers as friends?

(If they do activism work this will be more likely, but sex workers also very often befriend other workers at venues where they work.)

Are they dating anyone?

(Lots of people are unwilling to date a sex worker or have complex feelings about it. Consider how their partner(s) might react, whether they're keeping this a secret from their partner(s), and what would lead those partner(s) to allyship with sex workers.)

What is your character’s opinion on sex work?

(There are plenty of sex workers who deal with internalized whorephobia, causing them to be in denial that they are engaging in sex work or to believe that it’s acceptable only because they make enough money or their circumstances are desperate enough. Others may view sex work as empowering, failing to consider the experiences of people who are not as fortunate as they are.)

How do they handle conflict?

(Are they confrontational or avoidance? Consider how this might impact the way they interact with both clients and people being whorephobic in their personal lives.)

What sexual boundaries do they have?

(Sex workers are allowed to have boundaries just like anyone else during sex. Are there certain acts they won't perform, like strippers who won't have sex with their clients or porn actors who won't do anal?)

What are their political positions?

(Sex workers are disproportionately likely to be left-wing, but aren't exclusively so.)

What words do they use to describe themselves?

(Some sex workers reclaim slurs whilst others shy away from them. There are also different slang terms used in different countries or settings, with some words being specific to strippers or street sex workers. Think carefully before employing words like whore hooker and particularly racialized words like hoe and thot.)

Please also consider: Does your character fall into the Happy Hooker trope? Is their history of sex work being used purely for shock value? If so, maybe you should consider making some changes!

If you're looking to publish writing with a sex worker character and have no experience with the type of sex work your character does, I highly recommend getting a sex worker as a sensitivity reader. This is a service I offer for between £150 and £200 for an average length novel, providing recommendations and language edits.

Thanks to @dammit-sammit for prompting me to make this post!

[blackstarlineage]

The Hypersexualization of Black Women: A Garveyite Perspective

The hypersexualization of Black women is a destructive remnant of colonialism, slavery, and white supremacy that continues to undermine their humanity, agency, and dignity. From a Marcus Garvey-inspired lens, this issue is not just a personal or cultural problem—it is a deliberate tool of systemic oppression designed to weaken the collective power and unity of the Black community. However, addressing this issue also requires introspection within the Black community itself, acknowledging how some behaviours or dynamics may contribute to perpetuating the problem. The solution lies in reclaiming identity, fostering unity, and empowering Black women as leaders, creators, and visionaries.

What is Hypersexualization?

Hypersexualization reduces Black women to their physical attributes and sexual desirability, denying them their complexity, intellect, and humanity. This phenomenon is deeply tied to the legacy of slavery, where Black women were dehumanized, fetishized, and portrayed as inherently promiscuous to justify exploitation. Today, it manifests in media, culture, and interpersonal relationships, perpetuating harmful stereotypes that harm both Black women and the broader Black community.

Examples of Hypersexualization

1. Historical Roots

The "Jezebel" stereotype framed Black women as hypersexual and immoral, legitimizing their abuse during slavery.

Black women’s bodies were commodified and fetishized, laying the foundation for centuries of objectification.

2. Media Representation

Music, film, and advertising often portray Black women as overly sexualized characters, prioritizing physicality over complexity or intelligence.

Even in Black-centered media, hypersexualization is sometimes glorified as empowerment, blurring the lines between liberation and exploitation.

3. Fetishization

Black women are often reduced to their physical features, such as their curves or skin tone, and are objectified in relationships and interactions.

4. Policing of Black Girls

Black girls are often treated as older and more "adult" than their peers, resulting in harsher discipline in schools and societal oversexualization from a young age.

How Black Women May Contribute to the Problem

1. Internalization of Stereotypes

Generational trauma and societal pressure can lead some Black women to internalize hypersexualized portrayals of themselves, believing they must conform to these images to be valued or accepted.

Media and social media platforms reward hypersexualized portrayals of Black women, sometimes encouraging them to lean into these harmful stereotypes for visibility and profit.

2. Perpetuation of "Empowerment" Narratives

While body positivity and sexual liberation are valid movements, they are sometimes co-opted into narratives that equate empowerment solely with physical or sexual appeal.

The line between embracing sexuality and reinforcing exploitative portrayals can become blurred, unintentionally reinforcing stereotypes.

3. Lack of Accountability in Community Dynamics

In some cases, unhealthy dynamics within the Black community (e.g., competition between women, or a focus on physical validation over substance) can perpetuate these narratives.

Celebrating hypersexualized portrayals in music, fashion, or social spaces without critically examining their impact also contributes to the cycle.

Why This is a Problem

1. Dehumanization

Hypersexualization denies Black women their full humanity, reducing them to objects for sexual gratification or commodification.

2. Erosion of Self-Worth

Internalized stereotypes can lead to struggles with self-esteem and mental health, perpetuating cycles of exploitation and harm.

3. Fragmentation of the Black Community

The overemphasis on Black women’s sexuality distracts from their leadership, intelligence, and creativity, weakening collective power.

4. Barriers to Progress

By focusing on hypersexualized narratives, Black women face greater challenges in achieving positions of power, respect, and influence in various spheres of life.

How to Solve It: A Garveyite Approach

From a Garveyite perspective, combating hypersexualization requires addressing both external systems of oppression and internal contributions to the problem.

1. Reclaim Identity

Promote Positive Representation: Black women must celebrate and be celebrated as leaders, thinkers, and visionaries in media, education, and art.

Educate About History: Understanding how stereotypes were created helps dismantle them, rebuilding pride and rejecting harmful narratives.

2. Educate on Self-Worth

Challenge Internalized Stereotypes: Encourage self-reflection and community dialogue about the impact of perpetuating harmful portrayals.

Redefine Empowerment: Emphasize that true empowerment comes from self-respect, leadership, and purpose, not external validation.

3. Shift Cultural Narratives

Accountability in Media: Hold creators and influencers accountable for the narratives they promote, ensuring they uplift rather than objectify Black women.

Promote Wholesome Content: Support media, music, and art that depict Black women as multi-dimensional, celebrating their intellect, creativity, and strength.

4. Foster Unity in the Black Community

Address Misogyny: Call out misogyny and hypersexualization within the Black community, promoting respect and accountability.

Encourage Solidarity Among Black Women: Build sisterhood and collaboration over competition, focusing on mutual support and empowerment.

5. Teach Pan-Africanism and Self-Determination

Global Black Womanhood: Emphasize the strength, beauty, and leadership of Black women across the diaspora, rejecting Eurocentric ideals of beauty and femininity.

Invest in Black Women: Support educational, entrepreneurial, and leadership initiatives for Black women to ensure their empowerment on all fronts.

Final Thoughts

The hypersexualization of Black women is both a systemic problem and a challenge requiring introspection within the Black community. By addressing both external oppression and internal contributions, Black women can reclaim their identities and rewrite their narratives. From a Garveyite perspective, this requires pride, unity, and a commitment to uplifting Black womanhood as a pillar of the global liberation movement. Black women are more than their bodies—they are leaders, creators, and visionaries destined to shape the future.

[xtrablak674]

INTERIM PERFORMANCE EVALUATION

Employee TREVOR BROWN

Title INTERACTIVE PROJECT COORDINATOR

Date of Hire 3.30.98

Date of Evaluation 7 21.98

Supervisor Amy Van Aarle

1. Taking into consideration the individual's time in this position, indicate your overall appraisal of performance to date.

Good ( X ) Satisfactory ( )Unsatisfactory ()

Comments:

Trevor has made a large contribution to the growth of the Interactive Services department at kb&p. In a very short time he has become a key member of the team • he keeps information flowing and work moving in the interactive department. Trevor has injected sense of fiscal responsibility into the department, enabling us to grow and increase our profitability.

2. To date, what do you assess to be his/her strengths?

Trevor is very organized, pro-active and self motivated, all contributing to his success in his new position at kb&p. Trevor recognizes problem areas, troubleshoots them, and implements solutions. Trevor's initiative and dedication are nothing short of extraordinary. He has the ability to teach himself new processes and technologies that help him immensely in his job tasks.

His organization and thoroughness have taken the process of trafficking and tracking work to the next level. He has the ability to see holes in a process and make it more efficient and effective. He demands much from others around him • Trevor sets standards and holds others to them.

Trevor has begun to master the trafficking process and has set out to improve these processes even further. Recently he's been instrumental in developing a more detailed and thorough format for the Client sign-off/pickup sites. This will help to streamline the process of trafficking and help to troubleshoot any discrepancies in the creative rotations from the beginning of the production process, rather than the end.

This will help to keep the jobs on schedule and improve the overall turnaround times.

3. To date, what do you assess to be the areas in which improvement could be shown?

Trevor is a highly entertaining and fun person to be around, but he must learn to moderate the fun loving side of his personality in professional situations. He is very intelligent and demonstrates his smarts via a sharp wit. Trevor must recognize that this acerbic wit can alienate people in the workplace who do not appreciate the humor or cannot compete in the wit arena.

Trevor must discuss his workplace frustrations with his supervisor, and make sure that he irons out any potential conflicts and not fester and slow down the flow of work, or workplace relationships.

Trevor's approach to communicating is often too aggressive, and could even be called rough at times. Some of this comes from the fact that Trevor takes his work very seriously. Although an aggressive approach often sets fast results, it is not always conducive to building healthy working relationships in a client based business. If people get the feeling that they are being accused of doing a bad job, they react defensively. and often partially close the lines of communication. fearing further reprimands.

Often a little understanding, a little commiseration. (even it have to grit your teeth while you do it goes a long way towards achieving the desired result ) - a healthy process and open lines of communication. If Trevor adopts a more polished approach to his communications, his ability to get things done and accomplish his goals could start to produce even better results.

Trevor must become more restrained in his e-mail communications. instead using the phone diplomatically it he is angry with someone, and generally putting more effort into the quality of his e-mail communications. By the amount of grammatical errors in his e-mails at times, it seems that Trevor writes these e-mails quickly and while in the midst of emotion. Trevor has demonstrated that he is capable of a very high quality of written communication in many of his e-mails. However, sometimes he is sloppy in his communications.

The problem with e-mail is that it is fast, impossible to un-send, permanent, and open to be forwarded to any number of people.

When Trevor communicates to the sites that we run advertising on, he is representing kb&p to people who one day may be clients. His communications must always reflect that. In the next section, We've outlined some concrete ways that Trevor can use to improve his e-mail communications.

Trevor's enthusiasm and candor can definitely be used to his, and the department's, advance. Using his natural communication and organizational skills in combination with a more refined approach.

Trevor could soon see even better results. This refinement includes communications with agency employees, outside vendors. Web sites and client contacts. both through e-mail and phone contact.

4. What specifically are you planning to do, and recommend the employee do. to help develop in his her present position?

Trevor is in a position to progress and grow dramatically along with the rapidly growing Interactive Services department. His initiative and natural talents have made him a key asset to the department, and we would like to see him continue to grow wit us.

Trevor can continue to move forward by applying himself in the same fashion that he's already been doing. With his organizational skills and attention to detail. Trevor can and must continue to refine processes for the department and make them more efficient, especially as we add on more clients. Trevor must continue to pay attention to matters financial, keeping an eye on our bottom line and exploring areas of growth and profitability. Trevor must take the initiative to learn from those around him so that he eventually can take on more and more responsibility in this area.

Trevor must pay close attention to the way he communicates with others. For the next few weeks, each time Trevor writes a lengthy e mail, he should stop and sit on it for some time before sending it. After re reading the e-mail and re-evaluating the content, he should bring the e-mail to his supervisor and ask for an objective opinion about the content and delivery of the email. That way. Trevor can begin to recognize the strengths and weaknesses in his communications. and begin to improve them.

After doing this for a while, we recommend that Trevor continue to write and then sit on his e-mails, evaluating them before sending them. This is a great way to vent frustrations while leaving the door open to revise the delivery if circumstances change. People often write e-mails that are never sent, preferring on reflection to delete them or simply call the intended recipient. The writing of the e-mail, however, lets one understand and refine what it is that one is trying to say. This technique could work well for Trevor as well.

5. Growth Path

Trevor possesses the raw talent and a level of business competence to command a post more senior than the one he currently fills. With a moderation of his sometimes appropriate attitude towards others in the workplace. Trevor will rise to an executive position.

We will consider leaving the position of Interactive Business/Project Manager unfilled and evaluate Trevor's performance and suitability for this spot over the course of the next 3 months.

- - - -

Reflecting on this performance review twenty-five years later its amazing how much truth I find in Ms. Van Aarle's words. Albeit we had a very complex relationship I find all of her words here to ring true to exactly who I was at this time. The thing I can acknowledge now is that this was my first office job, my first time using e-mail professionally and being in a lot of the situations I was put in, I was given the grace to grow because of everything I was bringing to the table and I deeply appreciate all of this at a place which for all intensive purposes was my first corporate job.

My emotions were extremely volatile and everything she said about e-mail wasn't conducive to me slowing and cooling down before responding to correspondence. Curiously nowadays I barely touch e-mail even in a work setting. When I see a misunderstanding I just get up and go visit and talk with the person and clear up everything.

I have said repeatedly to folks give me a note, give me some feedback I will make revisions. This performance review I got a quarter of a decade ago still applies to everything I do. I will never send an angry email. If I am feeling emotional I will step-away and come back later to respond, if I respond at all.

The insight into my personality is so fun to see in writing these descriptors: dedicated, efficient, organized, thorough, highly entertaining, fun, intelligent, sharp wit, acerbic, aggressive, passionate, rough, and enthusiastic. Its still unfathomable to me that I have trouble finding work because most of these words still apply and all the things she suggested have been polished and refined. But not all jobs want you to be yourself and many aren't able to see what you bring to the table and really don't want to.

[Photo by Marlene Saunders]

[roo-bastmoon]

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF THE CULT'S DYNAMICS

Disclaimers: Sensitive topics are discussed below the cut; please do not incite drama, speak hate, or engage in bullying. I am not a mental health professional; I make no claims of expertise (in anything). This is a collection of my thoughts about what is currently happening on the Taekook side of ARMY, in the hopes that it may help us as a community respond more effectively to the toxic parts of our fandom. If you click below this cut, you are assuming responsibility for your own behavior and agreeing to engage with my blog respectfully, or you will be blocked.

THE NARRATIVES AT WORK

I submit that shipping Taekook is both an evolving conspiracy theory and a living cult.

There are various narratives within this subgroup, but in general, to ship Taekook, one must believe Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are in a closeted gay romantic relationship.

One also likely believes that their company (both BigHit and Hybe) and everyone around them have always actively hid their gay relationship.

Initially, Taekook (the “real” gay couple) was being hidden by Jikook (the “fake” gay couple) because Jikook was somehow more popular in Korea and therefore considered to be more profitable.

And this was the main narrative for years. It got Jimin dragged and hated online and in real life, to the point there was even a credible shooting threat at a concert.

Now, the narrative is being modified in light of the video footage revealed this week involving Taehyung and Jennie.

If Taekookers accept at all that Jennie and Tae were indeed photographed holding hands in Paris this week, then they likely believe both their companies are using this as a PR Relationship stunt to hide their real gay relationships before military service and comeback projects.

This belief includes:

1) assuming Taehyung and Jennie are not being honest;

2) believing Taehyung and Jungkook have no agency or power within their own companies; and,

3) all of their members and managers are also in on this nefarious plot.

Whether they believe Taennie is just cosplayers in an orchestrated smear campaign, or two actual idols in a PR Relationship, regardless, a large segment of this subgroup still believe that Jimin is the company favorite who gets special treatment.

Therefore, things that should be Taekook’s (such as songs and subunits and couple-like interactions) are instead given to the company’s king of fan service, to the point where Jimin “assaults” Jungkook with “unwanted” attention and physical contact.

THE LOGICAL FALLACIES

As amazingly popular as our Korean It Boy is, I have serious doubts about Jimin being the “company favorite” ever since Hybe took over two years ago.

As the “company favorite,” I’d love it if he got more lines in group songs, or was allowed to film as many music videos as he wanted, or could be given more than 10 days of promotion time for a project he spent a year working on. It would be stellar if the “company favorite” had in-ears that worked correctly during live broadcasts, or was invited onto IU’s show, or could host streaming parties or sell exclusive merch. To say nothing of the “company favorite” getting far more reality show appearances and magazine interviews and a Disney documentary with behind the scenes footage! Heck, I’d settle for his songs not being split on Spotify, his views not being culled on YouTube, and maybe just one congratulatory statement to the press or even just a CAKE celebrating his historic Hot 100 #1.

At least Jimin was “allowed” to include a hidden track with Jungkook (that wasn’t advertised or available to stream, so not fan service) and he was allowed to queer code his Like Crazy music video. So I believe he has some agency and say over his projects. I’m not sure he’s entirely understood or appreciated by his company—frankly, I think his potential was underestimated—but I don’t claim he’s a victim. Victim narratives play into cult dynamics.

But I digressed. I was talking about logical fallacies.

Let’s entertain the idea that for more YEARS, Jungkook and Taehyung have been horribly abused by their management and forced to hide their relationship.

They never thought to address this issue when they were renewing their contracts?

Also, what’s up with all the footage during RUN episodes when they are standing together, or on the same team, or hugging and cuddling, or leaning their heads on each other’s shoulders and legs?

Why were they allowed to flirt and dance and do skinship on stage—and all that stuff even made it into official footage?

Now let’s entertain the idea that Taennie is a PR Relationship.

So… two rival companies, just coming out of a bitter failed deal around a music industry monopoly, are now working together to make people believe Jennie and Tae are dating?

Even though idols LOSE popularity and company stocks take a DIVE when couples are revealed?

So Taennie is the strategy to promote solo albums and upcoming projects?? And both companies’ PR teams say “We can’t confirm it as it is their personal lives.” So no PR statement is the PR strategy??

We know it’s bullshit. It makes about as much sense as Hillary Clinton running a child sex trafficking ring out of the basement of a pizza parlor that doesn't have a basement.

But many in the cult believe it’s Absolute Truth.

The question is why?

The answer is in the dynamics at play here.

CULT DYNAMICS

It starts with a MISINFORMATION CAMPAIGN.

Baby ARMY get curious about BTS, hop on YouTube or TikTok, and are bombarded by the algorithm that claims Taekook is real.

Unless they go searching for original content (which takes up dozens and dozens of hours to sift through and much of which sits behind a paywall), they will not have much to contradict these claims.

Most older ARMY are understandably so sick and tired of the ship discourse that they don’t go into Taekook spaces and duke it out in the comments. Plus, content creators know that Taekook content gets hits and likes, which translates into passive income, so they keep making it.

See this video where a cult leader shows you she made over $109,000 in a year just from her Taekook edits:

So in the din of all this nonsense and noise, it’s up to Baby ARMY to seek out other voices, other input, to form an opinion. They have to be proactive. And sadly, a large segment of the population lacks critical thinking skills and do not WANT to seek facts.

We live in a very busy, post-fact world, where “credible messengers” (i.e., someone you know and trust) tell you their opinions. Then you try those opinions on for size, and they eventually become your opinions. It’s faster, it’s easier, and…

It lets you be part of the IN-GROUP. Next thing you know, you're part of a group chat with 400 indoctrinated members, spitting conspiracies like gospel truths.

In today’s globalized, fast-paced, hyper digital world, most people cannot tell you the names of their neighbors or local butcher or even their state’s politicians, let alone what all they stand for. But they can tell you how the Kardashians feel about organic salad in a plastic bowl, or what Trump believes about election results.

There’s a lack of real-world relationships that tether people to a shared reality.

And yet, there is a human need for Tribe.

A cult uses that instinct for TRIBE by constantly re-enforcing the notion that People Out There don’t understand, aren’t very nice, will even persecute you for knowing the truth.

But People In Here, the IN-GROUP, they appreciate you, they are reasonable and open-minded, they will be there for you when everyone else turns their backs on you and puts you down.

All you have to do to belong to the IN-GROUP is subscribe to these CONSPIRACY THEORIES.

First, you should think about becoming Anti-Establishment.

You cannot trust the Authority (company, government, scientists, whatever). The Authority is corrupt and will lie to you because it wants something from you (money, votes, microchips in the vaccines, whatever).

Do not trust what your eyes show you and what your ears hear. Believe your in-group. Be loyal to your found family. Your found family is SPECIAL.

Second, you need to begin to wake up to the Signs and Wonders.

Once you’re willing to see the truth, suddenly there are all these hints. All these little “Q-drops” of information. Like Taekook touching face moles during a song. Or seeing slowed-down, edited videos of facial expressions that look like evidence of jealousy. Or maybe hidden meanings behind tattoos of tigers and green mics. Or making a secret handshake or symbol with their fingers. These Signs and Wonders are FOR YOU.

*Now, I’m inclined to give Taekookers a bit of a break on queer couple coding because, culturally speaking, similar clothing and jewelry are couple-coded in Korea. And there are just as many if not MORE theories about Jikook using similar black and white clothing, matching jewelry, related tattoos, using special numbers in songs and timestamps, and even changing up lyrics as secret messages.

The issue here is that Jikook ACTUALLY DOES SOME OF THOSE THINGS. They actually deliberately type out specific numbers on some of their social media messages. They actually have dressed in the exact same outfits or worn each other’s clothes. They actually have changed up lyrics and sung them to each other.

Even so, any reasonable Jikooker will say “all of this is suspicious as hell, but not proof.” Like when Jungkook says his J tattoo stands for Jungkook—the placement over the M is suspicious, yes—but all sane Jikookers accept that Jungkook has spoken about that tattoo and he did not say it was for Jimin. We don't sit around calling Jungkook a liar just because we preferred our theory.

Taekookers, however, want what Jikook have so badly, even as they scorn it for merely being fan service.

Half the time the hints they claim are completely made up.

They see sandal footprints in the sand, and their leaders say it’s proof that Jungkook went on a secret beach date with Taehyung. Even though Taehyung went out with a friend and his parents that night.

Taekookers will see a photo of shoes all neatly lined up and say it’s a secret ski date with Hobi. Even though Jimin owns the exact same pair of shoes and there were no photos or accounts of them ever being at a ski lodge the day after Jin went into service.

Taekookers will swear they hear Jungkook’s voice off camera during Taehyung’s vlog and insist he was hiding in the trunk of the car during the drive to film. As if JK would hide in the trunk for hours instead of just… go in a different car that didn't have a camera??

All of these Signs and Wonders require a huge leap to arrive at the conclusion that Taekook is a romantic couple.

Meanwhile, evidence of Jikook spending birthdays together and couple holidays together and going on trips alone together and having integrated families and inner circles (stylists, tattoo artist, boxing coach) are ALL fan service. Every single person is in on the conspiracy.

Yes, even when JK’s mom screams “I love you!” to Jimin and makes her son eat seaweed soup on Jimin’s birthday, (JK was clearly FORCED to make up that story) it has to be fan service.

And when Jimin’s dad posts a photo of JK’s old dog on JK’s birthday (a birthday where Jimin visited him in the middle of working on his album, but Taehyung did not even though he wasn't working on anything), it's fan service. And when Mr. Park hosts a give-away event at his café where JK’s music is playing and cap and photo are proudly displayed next to JImin? Absolute fan service; he’s a money-hungry, attention-hungry cad, don’t you know? Even the charity he and his son do are fan service!

But JK went bowling with Wooga, so, Taekook are married. (Legally married. Not in Korea. But you know. They ARE married. Coming up on their third anniversary already!)

It’s all there, if you’re just willing to see the Signs and Wonders. And believe your cult leaders when there's nothing to see or wonder about at all.

Third and perhaps most important, is the Star-Crossed Lovers angle. The VICTIM CARD.

You see, it’s not bad enough that openly gay couples face pure hell in conservative countries anyway—losing their jobs, their families, sometimes their will to live because the stigma can be so bad. But on top of all that, for years and years, Taekook have been forced apart.

They’ve been just tortured by Jimin’s attention-whoring greedy nature, and made to endure fabricated fan service skinship!

(When Tae and JK look happy to be around Jimin, it’s just because they are professionals and such good actors!). Darn that Park Jimin, the abuser and sexual predator!!

And after so long being forced to hide, now in solo era, poor abused victimized Taekook can be loud. So loud. So very loud and wild and free!!

After all, during the Vegas concert, Jungkook sat on Taehyung’s lap!! He's NEVER sat on any other BTS members' lap (except for all of them).

And when Jungkook came online and said “Keep being jealous, I’ll keep holding Jiminie!” and that Jimin was HIS! Then fans kept asking him about Taehyung, so he also said Taehyung was his. It was totally his own organic idea (except for how it wasn't).

When fans kept pestering Jungkook during his camping VLive about Taehyung, he said he was forced to admit that Taehyung was attractive, he’d never seen a man so attractive! (FORCED to admit it! So romantic!)

Meanwhile, as all this shakes down, there’s this scandal in the press that Jimin didn’t pay his insurance premiums because his mail was omitted by the company. News of this dropped EXACTLY the moment his first OST With You came out, and he went totally quiet.

And then, Jungkook also went quiet for a while too. He deleted all his previous Insta photos that were personal and changed the layout to be totally professional. He went to the White House. He did a collab. He partied for JitB. He went on a Meat Tour of Korea. He did a concert with his members. He headlined World Cup. But mostly he was getting quieter and quieter.

Eventually Jungkook deleted the app entirely. Sometimes he stayed in his home for six days at a time. He stopped working out or going into Hybe; he started drinking whiskey. And nowadays he doesn’t even want to look at the comments on lives. Not because he was sick of the Taekookers or anything, but because “the company is forcing them to hide!”

Of course.

And all throughout 2022, Taehyung and Jungkook are paired up for things, and Tae's talking about a fortune teller saying he and Jungkook were “fire and water.” And rather than be taken as cute moments between friends, these are just VERY LOUD SIGNS AND WONDERS.

Then there are leaks online of all these photos that involved Tae and Jennie.

And thus begins tons of lives where he mentions Jungkook.

I'm not saying Kim Taehyung had an agenda to throw fans off the scent of his actual relationship, but I'm also not NOT saying that.

Whatever his motivations, the cult interpreted this as a direct message for Taekookers to keep the faith!

And indeed, Taekook do hang out—sometimes openly. (Sometimes where there’s press that make them hold up signs while cameras are going off—but that’s not for work, that’s a date, because the security team there wasn’t Hybe’s, and it was a friend’s premiere.) Sometimes quietly, where they share photos of hanging out afterwards.

But it cannot be just two friends hanging out. It’s Signs and Wonders!! SO LOUD!! SO FREE!!

So many reveals—mostly coming from Taehyung, but Jungkook doesn’t often deny them. And it’s mostly Taehyung stroking Jungkook’s hair or laying his head on Jungkook’s thigh or whatever—but Jungkook doesn’t stop him. And Jimin seems totally unbothered by all of it, which is strange because it sort of debunks years of his efforts at fan service.

Yet, clearly THIS cannot be fan service or misdirection.

It can’t just be friends playing games, or a TikTok made for work. It can’t be recording someone without their informed consent for attention. It can’t be going to a concert with other members and sitting in separate rows as friends. Or going to a musical or movie to support friends. Unlike all the things Jungkook has done with Jimin, this has to be Real Love!!

So just to recap:

When the cult had no evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were a private couple.

When the cult had ever-increasing evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were being loud.

When the cult had evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service.

When the cult had no evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service getting exposed.

When the cult has evidence that Taehyung has a girlfriend, that’s a punishment.

MARTYRDOM

You see, Jungkook and Taehyung would go on WeLives without permission, remember? And Taehyung set up a dual live chat on Insta and JK didn't seem that into it but he was persuaded. Then they giggled and couldn’t find much to talk about for ten minutes. And Taehyung said he would take full responsibility for it.

And the cult now believes that “taking responsibility” means pretending to be in a heterosexual relationship. Even their insider sasaeng accounts predicted it!

Never mind how mad all of this seems. And it would be one thing if just one or two ideas were far-fetched, like looking at a pair of shoes and making assumptions. But all of it is far-fetched.

Facts do not matter. Because you cannot trust the Authority. You can only trust the In-Group.  

And the In-Group sees Signs and Wonders. So the In-Group knows the Real Truth.

The In-Group DECIDES TOGETHER what is real.

They can make entirely fake edits; cosplay; post false witness statements; harass models, coworkers, brands, businesses… they can hire trucks to circle the building with loud speakers, protesting and shouting their truth!!

And anyone who doesn’t believe the Real Truth is a Fake Taekooker.

No disbelievers allowed. Get out of the tribe. Only the faithful can stay in the Tribe.

Right now, you might be asking yourself: Why would you stay in a tribe like this??

Because the dynamic is ever-evolving, which is titillating, and participants get a sense of power, because they are able to help craft the narratives—by being so smart as to see the truth where others are blind sheep—so they can bond over how unique they are.

Plus… TAEKOOK NEEDS THEM.

The boys absolutely depend on their support. You see, Taekookers are the real HEROES here.

They understand the boys like normal people never could. If you know you know, and they are steadfast against any and all lies presented as evidence. They are loyal.

The whole world is against their baby bear and baby bunny!! They are the boys Only Defense. Just take a look at this video of their rallying cry:

If you've got martyrs, you've also got... CRUSADERS.

Yikes, right?

So, here are millions of fans who were lied to, misled, misinformed… They developed relationships over time with people who also believe this misinformation… They get a sense of power in crafting their own reality, in which the objects of their affection are victims and they are the heroes… And the only way to prove themselves worthy of the group is to stalwartly ignore anything that contradicts these narratives.

This is a literal, textbook cult.

Cults use deception, isolation, peer pressure, group-think, and suppression of critical thought. To varying degrees, all Taekook spaces do this too. (And yes, other ships and solos and mantis ALSO rely on these tactics. But I've never seen anything quite so open or pervasive in ARMY like the Taekook cult tactics.)

I feel I should make one thing should be made clear: a LOT of people sincerely believe in Taekook.

But there are also a lot of Taekook content creators who sincerely believe in the money they make off people believing in Taekook.

Like all cults, at the end of the day, it's a scam.

Now there’s evidence of a real relationship, and of course anyone who has invested time and money in Taekook is going to be pushing back—hard.

So how do we navigate this chaos?

Well, most cults end in one of two ways: an FBI raid, or everyone drinks the Kool-Aid and dies.

But more often than not, cults don’t really end so much as fizzle out over years.

Plenty of cults are still alive and well despite amble debunking (Scientology, Q-Anon, Illuminati, flat-Earthers, Larries—what they believe doesn’t really matter; it’s how they believe that makes them a cult.)

 Cults are a bit like hydras—you cut off one head, three stronger ones pop back up.

They won't stop. They have to BE STOPPED.

HOW TO DEPROGRAM A CULT

Well, back in the 70s, in the early days of deprogramming, the only thing that was effective was to separate the individual from access to the cult (by kidnapping if you had to), then bombard them non-stop with facts (using imprisonment or restraints if you had to) and eventually they are coerced into re-integration. But none of that is humane or legal by today’s standards.

It also leads to relapses.

Really the only way to deprogram cult conditioning is for a mental health professional to slowly and methodically discredit the cult leader(s) and gently present contradictions.

(How can Jungkook really be in a relationship with Taehyung if he’s always mentioning Jimin? How can Jimin be hurting Taehyung and yet they are on FaceTime for hours, trading fan art and watching tv shows? Why would the two most rich and famous pop stars in the world need a publicity stunt?)

And even then, the cult member has to be sort of able to question things for themselves, and it just helps to have other supportive people echoing their own questioning sentiments back to them.

It can take YEARS until a cult member reaches the breaking point and begins to listen to Out-Group ideas. (On average, five years, to be exact.)

And then they may begin a journey of self-expression, where they openly voice doubts or complaints against cult narratives. They may even engage in transference, jumping off the Taekook ship and onto another (the need for tribe is very real). This is an extremely vulnerable stage and should not be taken advantage of.

At this critical moment when someone is tittering on the fence, trying to figure out what reality is, you need to REWARD THE BEHAVIOR YOU WANT.

You want them to question. You want them to express their grief and doubts. You want them to look for real sources of information.

This is NOT the time to kick someone when they are down, or look for “gotcha” moments to shame them publicly.

If you see a Taekooker wondering if they’ve been lied to this whole time—they HAVE. And that is abuse. And abuse victims need to be handled with care.

I know that Taekookers have dragged Jimin to hell and back for years so I’m not about to preach love and acceptance.

But it’s also fair to say that Taekookers have been gas-lit and realizing that can be traumatic.

Wounded animals are dangerous. A traumatized human lashes out. And you know who the prime target always is. They are already starting to take it to Jimin directly.

I strongly recommend you take a very cautious approach if you engage with them right now. Especially if you’re thinking about arguing with them.

People who defend Jimin or Jikook end up doxxed, suspended, harassed--and someday, I fear a wounded cult member will get physically violent.

Be especially careful because plenty of big accounts are closeted Taekookers. Here's a thread exposing some "mystery cult" members:

THE MOST EFFECTIVE RESPONSE

I normally don’t try to police people or preach too much, but I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice if you managed to read all this:

Don’t go into Taekook tags or spaces. Don’t debate them. Don’t talk trash about them or the members. Don’t slam-dunk or spike the ball with snarky words or memes. Don’t give them a taste of their own medicine. Don’t be cruel.

First of all, don’t do any of that because Jimin and Jungkook would be mortified by it.

But second of all, don’t do it because it just makes them dig in harder; it adds weeks or months to the deprogramming timeline.

The goal is to get the cult out of ARMY fandom. Because they thrive on a victim/hero complex, attacking them reinforces cult dynamics.

I believe there is a better approach.

First, you can and should go Gray Rock whenever possible.

Starve them of oxygen. Don’t acknowledge them. If you do, be generic in your responses—boringly bland, detachedly polite. Ignore them completely; their hot takes do not matter.

Block and report if warranted, but never engage. On some level, they really want to be persecuted for their beliefs. It's why they keep coming into Jikook spaces looking for a fight.

But their beliefs are so ridiculous that they aren’t worth our time. Instead, direct your focus on what you want, which is to promote and celebrate Bangtan.

Second, you can provide what’s called a Graceful Exit.

It doesn’t always work if they know that’s what you’re doing, but it is perhaps the most effective technique, especially if they are already questioning the cult narrative.

You see, a shamed human being gets defensive, doubles down, won’t listen. But a human being offered a Graceful Exit Out of a Bad Place gets to reinvent themselves in a way that allows them some dignity while they change direction.

A Graceful Exit has a few components to it:

“Hello, Taekooker. I also saw a lot of misleading content when I was a baby ARMY. The algorithm feeds you Taekook content almost immediately. Then you make online friends, and they all believe in Taekook. Suddenly everyone is telling you really complicated theories about how Taekook is being hidden. Once you believe that, you have to also believe that Taekook are lying by omission, that Jimin and the members are also lying, that the company executives and translators and managers and staff are all lying, that Korean ARMY is lying, that fellow I-ARMY is lying… and that’s a lot of people spreading a lie for no real gain. Now that you have some evidence that Tae is happily in a relationship with someone else, it’s only natural to question your beliefs, because YES, Taehyung and Jungkook absolutely love each other. But are they IN love? NO. For my part, I trust Taehyung. I love and support Taehyung. I don’t spread the idea that he or Jungkook engage in fake relationships. If you support them, then you’ll accept what they are showing you. When you’re ready to stop shipping Taekook, ARMY will be ready to welcome you back. We can stream together and vote together and help our boys achieve their dreams. We can watch their content and go to concerts together and enjoy fan-works. But what we can’t do is make up really complex stories around BTS’ reality. Our place as fans is to appreciate their music, and let them live their own lives in their own way. It’s time to let go of old ideas, and embrace the new things they share with us.”

This tactic allows the cult member to feel sympathy for being human. It provides understanding that they’ve been deceived. It appeals to their higher nature and love for the objects of their affection. And reassures them they could have a place in a bigger tribe if they let go of the in-group.

It invites them in, instead of calls them out.

Now, you guys might not be willing to do that. Especially considering the hate trains and rape jokes and death threats they gave Jimin for years. Believe me, I get it. I GET IT.

So if you see someone spewing vitriol, now is not the time to call them in. Now is the time to block and report.

However, if I take out my anger on them, it’s serving my own feelings.

And I’m here to serve Jimin, Jungkook, and BTS, not my own need to be right.

So I believe the best way to do that is to Gray Rock the Die-hards and provide a Graceful Exit for the Questioners.  

Many cult members are not going to believe in Taennie unless Kim Taehyung makes an announcement directly--and even then, he’ll have to do it in such an emphatic way that they buy what he sells.

So we should accept that the cult is going to be around for a long, long time. Conserve your energy, my dears.

But for the ones who just got fooled but don't intend any harm, we can either hope they let go of their own volition, or we can try to make room for them as part of true ARMY.

What we shouldn’t do is get down in the mud and start slinging. Everyone loses ground that way.

THIS WAS THE LONGEST EVER POST; I AM SORRY!

But these have been my thoughts over the last few days. I’m okay if you want to comment, but I would like to ask that you DO NOT reblog to tag Taekook and that you don’t weaponize this post by spreading it around specifically where it could cause drama.

Drama is the exact opposite of my intention.

My desire is to provide some better understanding around how cults work and how to disband them.

In conclusion: Keep it classy. Ignore assholes. Be gentle with people recovering from gas-lighting. Stay true to the principles of BTS and ARMY. Apobangpo.

Love, Roo