She agrees

Ronnie with a **** smile for victory said. "For three fifty... you can make a fucking documentary."

The old man's thin lips stretched into what might have been a smile. "Excellent." He gestured with the camcorder toward a narrow passage between two crumbling tenements. "My studio is just this way. I assure you, the acoustics are... intimate."

The passage was darker than the alley, smelling of trash. He led her to a warped wooden door, its paint peeling in long, curling strips. The room inside was small, windowless, and smelled heavily of mothballs and dust. A bare bulb hung from a cord, casting a sickly yellow light. The only furniture was a stained mattress on the floor and a rickety wooden chair.

"Settle yourself," he said, pointing the lens at her. He didn't wait for her to move, just began filming, the small red light blinking like a malevolent eye. "Yes... just like that. The aftermath. The evidence. Turn slowly, my dear. Let the light catch the... texture."

Ronnie rotated slowly on the grimy floorboards. She felt like an exhibit in a freak show. She thought of the prize, of Dudley's praise. She reached down, scooping some of the mixed cum from her thigh with two fingers and holding it up to the camera.

"I'm Ronnie a dumb slut for cash. I have accepted to film this man fucking me and ending this movie with a special golden surprise."

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