The Industry Talk: Glitter, Ghosts, and Guts**
Cherry Moon made it sound like a brunch event.
"Just a little seminar, darlings. Meet some legends. Learn about lube and lawsuits. Network while eating tiny croissants."
What she didn't mention:
The room would be filled with **the faces behind the fantasy**.
And not all of them were smiling.
---
Ren and Noa sat in the back of a small, dim-lit conference room at the Venus Hotel.
The sign read:
**"INTIMATE INDUSTRY: The Truth Behind the Temptation"**
Guest speakers included:
– Johnny Eclipse (male star, 20-year career, two hip replacements)
– Miss Saturn (retired dominatrix, now runs a support hotline)
– Dana Vee (ex-actress turned producer, turned therapist)
Noa whispered, "Why does this feel like porn AA?"
Ren leaned in. "Because the coffee tastes like trauma."
---
The first speaker was Johnny Eclipse.
He walked with a limp but stood tall, grinning.
"I've been in 437 scenes. I've faked it in 400 of them."
Laughter.
He continued, "Here's the thing they don't tell you—porn isn't always sexy. It's lighting, cramping, sweat between takes, and crew members eating sandwiches while you climax."
Ren raised a hand. "So… when does it feel real?"
Johnny nodded. "The best ones? Always felt fake. And the worst? Those are the ones I remembered. Because I felt *seen*."
Noa scribbled in her notebook:
> **Seen ≠ Sexy.**
---
Next up: Miss Saturn.
She wore all black, red lipstick, and a leather choker with a cat bell.
"People think I lived in latex and ecstasy," she said. "But what I really lived in? Contracts. Misunderstandings. Regrets. And one panic attack in a clown suit."
Gasps. Then laughs.
She smiled. "What saved me? Community. Girls who held me after shoots. Men who apologized. Directors who actually asked before touching."
Her final line:
**"This industry can eat you alive—but if you find your people, it can also teach you how to survive."**
Noa felt Ren gently squeeze her hand.
---
Last speaker: Dana Vee.
She wore glasses, jeans, and zero makeup.
Looked like your favorite barista—until she said, "I've done triple anal while quoting Shakespeare. But I left when I forgot my real name."
Noa stared.
Dana continued, "I became so many fantasies, I forgot what I wanted. Now, I help others remember themselves before the lights go on."
She looked straight at Ren and Noa.
"Ask yourselves: Are you still you? Or are you someone the audience invented?"
The room went silent.
Ren looked down.
Noa closed her eyes.
---
After the panel, Dana approached them.
"You two went viral for being real," she said. "That's rare. And dangerous."
Noa asked, "Why dangerous?"
"Because real gets messy. And porn loves polish."
Ren asked, "So what do we do?"
Dana smiled gently. "Decide if you want to keep pretending. Or walk away while you still recognize each other."
Then she handed them both business cards.
"Therapist. Not producer," she winked.
---
Back in their hotel room, they lay on the floor, still dressed, processing.
Ren whispered, "Do you think we were pretending?"
Noa replied, "I think we forgot it was acting."
They stared at the ceiling.
Then Noa said, "I don't want to forget who I am."
Ren turned to her. "Then let's decide who we are. Together."
---
That night, they didn't film anything.
Didn't undress.
Didn't moan.
They just talked.
About everything.
Parents. High school. Favorite smells. First crushes. Their stupid fears. Their worst auditions. The best part of waking up next to each other.
No performance.
Just presence.
And when they fell asleep, fully clothed, on the carpet—arms tangled, dreams light—
They didn't need an audience.
Only each other.
The room looked like a spa for broken souls.
Soft lights. Pillows. Diffuser mist that smelled like lavender and latex.
Dana Vee, ex-superstar of the 2000s now licensed trauma counselor, sat cross-legged on the floor.
Noa and Ren sat across her, holding mugs of cocoa.
"Okay," Dana said, "you two look too hot to be this confused."
---
Ren spoke first.
"I don't know what I feel anymore. Horny. Guilty. Tired. Kind of… floaty."
Noa added, "Everything's real and fake at the same time. Like a lucid dream with nudity."
Dana smiled. "Good. That means you're waking up."
---
They talked about **burnout**, **performance pressure**, and the weirdness of being desired without being known.
Dana asked, "When was the last time you touched someone and didn't worry about the angle?"
Silence.
Ren whispered, "Maybe never."
Noa looked down. "Maybe that's why this whole thing hurts more than it should."
---
Dana sipped her cocoa.
"Porn doesn't break people," she said softly.
"It just magnifies whatever cracks they already had."
She explained:
- Some enter porn to reclaim power.
- Some for freedom.
- Some for survival.
"And some," she said, looking at them,
"get stuck because they confuse intimacy with applause."
---
Ren leaned forward.
"But… it's not real love, right?"
Dana nodded.
"It's not fake either. It's just framed."
She held up her phone and showed a still frame of one of their scenes.
"They like you two because you don't *look* like you're pretending."
Noa frowned. "We weren't."
Dana smiled.
"I know."
---
The air shifted.
Not heavy. Just **honest**.
Dana pulled out a whiteboard and drew three circles:
> Pleasure
> Performance
> Connection
"You can have one. You can fake two. But you can't fake all three."
Ren blinked. "So what were we doing?"
Dana erased the board.
"You were trying to find all three.
That's why it felt messy.
Messy is good."
---
Noa whispered, "So… what now?"
Dana shrugged. "You choose. You stay. You leave. You create rules. Or break them."
She leaned in.
"But do it **together**, or don't do it at all."
---
After the session, they sat by the vending machine in silence.
Ren finally said, "I think I fell for you somewhere between lube training and moan analysis."
Noa laughed. "I think I fell when you wore my cherry panties like they were designer."
They leaned into each other. Not to kiss.
Just to exist.
Closer.
Quieter.
Real.
---
In her journal that night, Noa wrote:
> "Dana said porn is a mirror.
> We came here for money.
> But we saw our fears.
> Our desires.
> And something we didn't expect:
> *A version of us that wasn't pretending.*"
She turned the page and drew three hearts.
One labeled "me."
One labeled "him."
One empty.
She smiled.
Tomorrow, maybe they'd fill it together.
"I swear to God, if one more person asks me to moan like an anime girl, I'm moving to Alaska," Noa grumbled.
Ren tossed her a juice box. "They'd still find you. 'Frozen Milf: The Iceman Cometh.'"
Noa shot him a look. "I hate how good that title is."
---
They were waiting outside a small studio room marked "THERAPY – DO NOT KNOCK UNLESS ON FIRE."
Cherry had signed them up.
"Everyone gets a session," she'd said. "Even if you think you're normal. Especially then."
The door opened.
Out came a guy in a gimp suit, crying happy tears.
"Your turn," the therapist said. "Bring your emotional baggage."
---
Inside was **Dana Vee** — legendary ex-actress turned studio counselor.
The room was cozy: beanbags, soft lights, a faint lavender scent, and a poster that read:
> *"You are more than your OnlyFans."*
Dana smiled. "Okay, sit. Talk. Cry. Flirt. Whatever happens stays here."
---
Ren went first.
"I think I'm… emotionally horny. Or hormonally confused."
Noa added, "We got into this by accident. But now… we're kinda good at it. And that scares me."
Dana nodded like she'd heard this a thousand times.
She probably had.
---
"Porn doesn't break people," she said.
"It just reveals what's already cracked."
She drew three circles on a whiteboard:
> **Pleasure**
> **Performance**
> **Connection**
"You can fake one. Maybe two. But never all three."
Noa blinked. "So what are we doing?"
Dana smiled. "Trying too hard to be all three at once. That's why it hurts."
---
They talked about burnout, body detachment, and the weird intimacy of pretending to be close.
Ren asked, "Has anyone ever fallen in love *on set*?"
Dana: "Plenty. But the trick is to still love each other *off camera.*"
---
Noa opened up.
"Sometimes I feel like my body's trending, but my brain is buffering."
Ren nodded. "I once got hard because someone touched my elbow. I don't think that's normal."
Dana sipped her tea. "Normal's dead. What you need is clarity."
---
Outside, they sat by the vending machine. Silence.
Then:
"Do you think this… thing… between us," Noa asked, "is real? Or is it just because we've seen each other naked too often?"
Ren replied, "Honestly? I liked you before the lube budget."
She chuckled.
He added, "And you never fake your laugh. Even when I suck at moaning."
Noa grinned. "You moan like a dying pigeon."
"It's my signature."
---
Later that night, Dana texted them a selfie of the whiteboard with one sentence added:
> "You don't have to film it to make it real."
---
In bed, Noa opened her journal and wrote:
> "I thought this world would numb me.
> But instead, it made me feel things I wasn't ready to feel.
> Not just the heat.
> But the **closeness.**
> That stupid, terrifying, beautiful closeness."
She drew three circles, again.
This time, she shaded in the one labeled **Connection.**
Just once.
With a tiny pink heart in the middle.