5: Pizza Hut? More Like Pizza Butt!

The smell of greasy cheese and marinara hits me like a wall as I push through the door of Pizza Hut. My stomach growls in anticipation, reminding me I haven't eaten since breakfast. After the whole Morgan is a pornstar revelation, I needed to get out of the house, clear my head. Pizza seemed like the perfect distraction.

The line at the counter moves quickly. I order a medium pepperoni with extra cheese, my go-to comfort food since college. As the cashier hands me my receipt with an order number, I scan the dining area for an empty booth.

That's when I see her.

Morgan sits alone in a corner booth, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder as she types on her laptop. My heart does a weird stutter-step like it can't decide whether to race or stop completely. What are the odds?

I consider pretending I didn't see her. I could grab my pizza to go when it's ready. I could sit at the complete opposite end of the restaurant.

She looks up, her eyes finding mine with an uncanny precision that makes me wonder if she somehow sensed me staring. A slight furrow appears between her brows before her face blooms into a surprised smile. She waves, gesturing for me to join her.

Well, shit. So much for avoiding this conversation.

I make my way over, legs feeling strangely wooden. "Hey," I manage, hovering awkwardly beside her table. "Small world."

"Adam!" Her voice carries that same husky quality I remember from Starbucks—and now, disturbingly, from the video. "Please, sit down. I was just taking a break from work."

I slide into the chair across from her, setting my receipt number on the table. "Work, huh?" I can't help the slight edge that creeps into my voice.

If she notices my tone, she doesn't show it. "Scriptwriting," she says.

"Are you following me?" The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, sharper than I intended.

Morgan's eyebrows shoot up, her fingers freezing over her keyboard. She looks genuinely confused, maybe even a little hurt. "Following you?" She glances around as if to orient herself. "Adam, I was here when you walked in."

I feel heat crawl up my neck, embarrassment replacing suspicion. She closes her laptop slowly, giving me her full attention.

"I live in this town," she continues, her voice gentle but firm. "Have for nearly three years now. This is one of my regular lunch spots."

She's right, of course. It's a small town. Running into the same person twice isn't exactly a statistical anomaly. I'm just on edge after seeing her in that video with Lana.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, running a hand through my hair. "That was weird of me. I've just had a really strange day."

Morgan's expression softens, concern replacing confusion. She leans forward slightly, those green eyes focused entirely on me. "Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes, it helps to get an outside perspective."

I stare at her, weighing my options. My heart hammers in my chest as I contemplate just how honest I should be.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, the tension leaving my shoulders in a long, defeated sigh.

"Look, I know you work with my girlfriend," I say finally, my voice low enough that nearby diners can't hear.

Morgan's brow furrows, genuine confusion crossing her features. "I don't work in marketing, Adam. I'm not sure what you mean."

I lean closer across the table, lowering my voice to barely above a whisper. "My girlfriend is Lana Blake."

For just a fraction of a second, something flickers across Morgan's face. A smile, but not surprise, as if she's hearing confirmation of something she already knew. But it happens so quickly I almost think I imagined it.

"Oh my," she breathes, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "What a small world." Her eyes widen dramatically. "So then... you're the writer of Trainer's Pet?"

My mouth falls open. "How did you…"

"Lana talks about her boyfriend's writing all the time at the studio," Morgan says, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile. "She's so proud of you, you know. Always bragging about her talented writer boyfriend."

My face burns hot. "She talks about me? At work?"

"Of course she does," Morgan says with a knowing smile. "How else would I know about your stories?"

"I thought maybe I was getting famous," I say, trying to deflect with a self-deprecating joke. "You know, word of mouth and all that."

She laughs with a melodic sound that somehow feels both genuine and calculated. "Maybe you are," she says, then leans forward, her expression shifting to something more predatory. "But Lana also told me you promised her not to watch her videos," she adds with a wicked smile. "So, how exactly did you find out I work with her?"

My stomach drops straight through the floor. Panic explodes in my chest like a grenade, and I can feel sweat instantly beading on my forehead. Every cell in my body screams danger. She's caught me, trapped me.

"I, uh, well..." I stammer, my voice coming out an octave higher than normal.

Morgan cuts me off with a raised hand, her expression softening into something almost maternal. "Unless you just happened to be watching videos of only me performing?" she offers, her eyebrow arching in a way that's both knowing and forgiving.

Relief floods through me so fast I nearly get lightheaded. An escape route. "Yes," I blurt out, nodding vigorously. "That's exactly what happened. I stumbled upon you on accident." The lie comes easily, desperation making me quick on my feet. "I had no idea you knew Lana until I saw... well, you know."

Morgan's lips curl into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "How interesting." She takes a slow sip of her drink, watching me over the rim of her glass. "So you were watching my videos? Tell me, Adam, which one was your favorite?"

I freeze again, realizing I've jumped from one trap into another. I don't know any of her solo videos, if she even has any. All I've seen is her with Lana.

"I, um, didn't watch that many," I hedge, desperately trying to remember any detail from the video that would sound plausible. "Just enough to recognize you."

Morgan's eyes glitter with something like triumph. "Did Lana's loving boyfriend jerk off to me?" she asks bluntly, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow feels like a shout in my ears.

There's no escape from the endless traps she's pushing me into.

"Alright, alright," I stammer, desperate to stop this line of questioning. "The truth is I was watching one of Lana's videos, and you were in it. That's how I recognized you."

Her predatory smile softens into something that looks almost like genuine curiosity. She leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers.

"Which one?" she asks, her tone surprisingly free of judgment.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry. "The, uh, bukkake one."

"Order 74!" a voice calls out, cutting me off. "Medium pepperoni, extra cheese!"

My order number. Thank God.

"That's me," I say, practically leaping from my seat. "I should grab that."

I hurry to the counter, my heart hammering in my chest. The brief reprieve gives me a moment to breathe, to collect my thoughts. The teenage cashier hands me my pizza with a bored expression, completely unaware he just saved me from the most awkward conversation of my life.

I consider making a run for it, just taking my pizza and bolting out the door. But that would only delay the inevitable. Morgan probably knows where I live, who my girlfriend is. Running isn't an option.

With a deep breath, I return to the table where Morgan sits waiting, that enigmatic smile still playing on her lips. I set the pizza box down between us like some kind of flimsy cardboard shield.

"Look," I say, lowering my voice, "I don't know if I can talk more about this. It's really embarrassing."

Morgan's smile widens, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You saw me covered in cum, and you're the one who's embarrassed?"

My face burns so hot I'm surprised the pizza box doesn't catch fire. "That's... that's different," I stammer. "You're a professional. It's your job."

She laughs, a sound that's both musical and slightly unsettling. "Oh, Adam. You really are adorable." She reaches across the table and places her hand on mine. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. We're all adults here."

Morgan's hand suddenly withdraws from mine, her expression shifting from playful to something more serious.

"You know, Adam, there's only pain in watching your girlfriend perform with other men," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "It's a special kind of torture you're inflicting on yourself."

I don't respond. Instead, I flip open the pizza box and grab a slice, focusing intently on the stretching cheese as I pull it away. The greasy pepperoni and melted cheese suddenly seem fascinating compared to Morgan's penetrating gaze. I take a large bite, chewing slowly.

Morgan leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Unless..."

"Don't say it," I cut her off, swallowing hard. The pizza tastes like cardboard in my mouth now.

She tilts her head, studying me with clinical interest. "Are you the type to like it? The pain?" Her expression softens into what appears to be genuine concern. "Adam, that's not good for your heart. Emotional masochism leaves scars you can't see."

"Stop," I say, setting down my half-eaten slice. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."

Morgan reaches across the table and grabs a slice of my pizza despite the half-eaten salad sitting right in front of her. She takes a delicate bite, somehow managing to make even Pizza Hut look elegant.

"You know," she says, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, "you're a good guy, Adam. Lana talks about you so much I feel like I know you. She really loves you." Her eyes soften. "That's why I know you don't need this kind of pain."

I fidget with my napkin, tearing off tiny pieces. "Well, maybe if I watch it, I can feel in control of the uneasiness, you know? Like exposure therapy or something."

Morgan sets down her pizza slice, fixing me with those penetrating green eyes. "Maybe. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" She leans forward. "Adam, you're worth more than sitting at home all day wondering what kind of scene your girlfriend is filming. You should tell her to leave the industry." She pauses. "Like I am."

"You're quitting?" I blurt out, genuinely surprised.

"Retiring," she corrects with a small smile. "I've made my money now. I just have to fulfill my contract, and I'm done. Then I'll just live in vacation mode for the rest of my life."

Her casual tone about financial freedom makes my stomach clench. Here I am, unemployed and living off my girlfriend's porn money, while Morgan has apparently made enough to retire in her thirties.

"That's awesome," I mutter, taking another bite of pizza to hide my jealousy.

"It is," she agrees, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. "I've been smart with my investments. Property in three states, a diversified portfolio." She twirls a strand of auburn hair around her finger. "The industry pays well if you know how to market yourself. The only thing left is finding the perfect partner? You wouldn't happen to have a brother, would you?"

I choke on my pizza nervously before catching my breath. "No, sorry. I'm one of a kind."

"That's a shame."

I swallow hard. "Did Lana ever mention wanting to quit?"

Morgan's expression shifts, her lips pressing into a thin line. She shakes her head slowly.

"Well, no, and her contract is probably longer than mine was..." she says, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "The studio really values her. They wouldn't let her go easily."

She glances down at her watch, her eyes widening slightly. "Shit." The word sounds strangely deliberate, coming from her polished mouth. "Sorry Adam, I've gotta run, maybe next time we run into each other we can exchange numbers."

For a split second, her smile transforms into something almost feverish, a flash of teeth that seems too wide, too eager. But when I blink, it's gone, replaced by a warm, friendly expression that makes me question if I imagined the manic gleam in her eyes.

"Sure," I say, feeling oddly relieved yet disappointed by her sudden departure.

"Wait!" I blurt out, half-rising from my seat as she gathers her laptop. My hand instinctively reaches for her wrist, stopping just short of touching her. "Morgan, please..."

She pauses, one eyebrow arching in curiosity. "Yes?"

I glance around nervously, making sure no one is within earshot. The words feel like rocks in my throat, but I force them out anyway.

"Could you... not mention to Lana that I was watching her videos?" My voice sounds pathetic, even to my own ears. "Please? It would really hurt her if she knew."

Morgan's expression shifts through several emotions so quickly I can barely track them, surprise, amusement, calculation, and finally, settling on something that looks almost like pity.

"Your secret's safe with me," she says, leaning down until her face is uncomfortably close to mine. "But secrets have a way of coming out, Adam. Especially the ones we keep from the people we love."

Her hips move hypnotically as she walks away. "Until next time, Adam."

As Morgan vanishes through the exit, I shift uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly aware of a persistent pressure against my jeans.

Jesus was I hard that entire conversation? What the fuck is wrong with me?