<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mypornstarbook.net/pornstars/k/kleio_valentien/gallery55/images/02.jpg) </div><br/>Life had a way of stamping on you hard when you were already down.<br/><br/>It had already been a pretty shit start to the month, what with Greg breaking up with me to focus on a new piece of skirt who would believe his lies, but I’d never imagined what the knock-on effects of that bastard splitting up with me would be.<br/><br/>Having been the one who got me into soft, and then hard core in the first place, he’d acted as my agent; negotiating and signing the contracts on my behalf. What I hadn’t realised that meant was, the moment he dumped me for this other floozy, the companies I’d been shooting for wouldn’t touch me with a bargepole, because they wanted to keep their relationship with him. Given I had lowered my limits to do any kind of shoot they had asked for over the last year—no matter how perverse or humiliating I’d found them—and that had seriously pissed me off.<br/><br/>With no money coming in, I was in serious threat of becoming homeless in the near future, but that was the least of my problems, given I’d probably be kicked out of the country first, thanks to my work visa requiring me to, well, work.<br/><br/>All of which had led me to the position I was in now.<br/><br/>Desperation was a funny thing, but the thought of going back to my own country a failure and having to face the mockery of ‘that man’ who was only a father by blood had me looking for any alternative, no matter how unpalatable they may be. Because of this, I’d found myself late at night, blowing a producer in the back of an alley—not for a part in his new film, as I’d hoped, but for a place on a private jet for a party involving many of the movers and shakers in the industry.<br/><br/>That this ‘place’ involved me being one of the cocktail waitresses for the evening wasn’t just a kick in the teeth, but a slap to the mouth, and spank to the arse as well. Granted, I’d got his weak-assed argument that being there gave me access to make my case (or beg) for new work, but given half of the people on the fucking flight were people I’d either worked with, or were friends of Greg, all I was getting for my efforts was a night of humiliation.<br/><br/>At first I thought I could simply ignore them, and focus on some of the studios that I hadn’t been involved with before, but it quickly transpired that most of the people working tonight had exactly the same idea. Not only that, my tattoos and alt look apparently made me more intimidating, and a lot less of a prospect than the bevvy of other bimbos on display.<br/><br/>Having spent hours getting nowhere fast, whilst being forced to smile glassily at the various different wankers and bitches who indulged in talking down to me, and squeezing my butt, I needed to find a place where I could have a few minutes to myself, so I could scream as loud as I could, and possibly do some damage to some furniture.<br/><br/>What I didn’t expect when I slipped into what I thought was an unoccupied room, was to be confronted by what I saw.<br/>