Page 17 of The Money Shot
“Great to see you,” Liam replied, looking genuinely curious. “What are you doing now?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s totally not what I majored in. Finding a job was a pain in the ass, so… I became a content creator.”
I chuckled, instantly assuming it was Instagram or TikTok. “Oh yeah? Got a page we can follow?”
Laura blushed, darting a quick look around to make sure no one else was listening. “Not that kind of content, Jack.” She lowered her voice. “I won’t tell you where you can find my, um, work. Oh, wait—you’re gay, right?”
Liam and I both nodded, and she exhaled with a laugh. “In that case, you guys won’t care.” She pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and handed it to me.
I took one look at the screen and nearly dropped her phone. The photo staring back at me was Laura—or Raven Stone, as it said across the top of the page—dressed head-to-toe in black leather, holding a riding crop. She had this intense look on her face, and I felt my eyes go wide.
“Oh my God,” Liam breathed, looking over my shoulder.
Laura burst out laughing and yanked her phone back. “What? You guys know me! This is my day job now.” She winked. “You better keep your mouths shut.”
“Promise,” I said, a bit dazed, and Liam nodded emphatically, though he had this curious look in his eyes.
Liam, still looking floored, cleared his throat. “So, uh…how does a poli-sci degree turn into…this?”
Laura gave a shrug, her expression brightening. “Well, political jobs were difficult to come by. They also don’t pay much. So I had to think outside the box. One thing led toanother, and I realized I could make serious money doing this. Plus, I had some ground rules from the start. I didn’t want to actually have sex with anyone on camera. So being a dominatrix was the perfect answer.”
“Wait,” Liam said, still looking a bit stunned. “So…what do you do exactly?”
“Just indulge some men’s fantasies about being dominated,” Laura smirked, clearly enjoying the effect this was having on us. “I talk to them, insult them, or sometimes I’ll have a guy on set that I can ‘dominate,’ but he never touches me. I’ll just spank or humiliate him. It’s all very staged, but the fans eat it up.”
“How much are you making, if you don’t mind me asking?” Liam blurted out, and I was about to cut him off, but Laura just smiled like she’d been waiting for the question.
“Oh, happy to share! At first, I was only making a few hundred dollars a month,” she said, clearly enjoying the suspense. “But then it just exploded. Now? I’m clearing almost six figures a month.” Her grin widened as she looked at both of us. “The site keeps 20 percent, and I get the rest.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open, and I nudged him with my elbow. “Close your mouth before a bug flies in, would you?”
Liam was full of questions. “What kind of equipment do you use? Is it expensive to get started? Do you need a special setup, or…?”
Laura grinned, clearly amused. “It depends on what you want to do. Some people keep it super simple—just a ring light, a decent camera, and a mic. Others go all out with fancy backdrops and editing software. But honestly, if you look great on camera, you don’t need much.”
As she continued explaining, I couldn’t help but notice how animated Liam looked. For a guy who’d been so down, he looked genuinely curious and engaged, his usual spark back for the firsttime in days. I felt a pang of relief, but barely had a second to enjoy it before Bradley called out to me from across the room.
“Hey, Jack! Can I talk to you for a sec?”
I turned and made my way over to where he was standing, looking a little frazzled. “What’s up?”
“Do you mind coming to the bodega with me?” he asked. “I completely underestimated the number of people who’d show up, and we’re gonna need more beer if we’re keeping this party alive. Mind helping me haul it back?”
I glanced over at Liam, who was still deeply engrossed in his conversation with Laura, and
shrugged. “Sure, let’s go.”
Bradley flashed a relieved smile as we walked toward the front door. But the second we opened it, both of us froze. There was a crowd of police officers standing there, looking dead serious. One of them stepped forward, holding up a document.
“I’m Detective Bryant,” he announced, voice flat. “We have a warrant to search Bradley Mitchell’s apartment.”
I blinked, stunned, trying to process his words. “Uh…there’s no one here by that name.” I turned, intending to laugh it off with Bradley, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked terrified.
“This is my roommate Bradley Wellington,” I said, my voice catching as I realized something was seriously wrong.
“Shit,” Bradley muttered, his face turning white as a sheet.
The officers pushed past us, filing into the apartment with an intensity that made everyone pause. In seconds, chaos broke out. People scrambled for the door, bolting like cockroaches when the lights come on. Drinks got spilled, a couple of glass bottles shattered, and the music cut off.