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Trevor was, to put it nicely, secretive. He was a master at sliding the conversation away from topics about his own life, friends, family, and, especially, his job. It didn’t phase me at first. I mean, who gets into deep conversations with their brand-new girlfriend about their family? But the more I fell for Trevor, the more I wanted to know about him.
Who sculpted him into the man he was? His overall mysterious persona was interesting in the beginning, but as he and I became closer and more intimate, it became frustrating to know so little about him. I had to make a decision on whether his tight-lipped policy about the rest of his life was a deal-breaker for me or not.
It wasn’t just family, either. Trevor seemed to have no friends, just acquaintances, even when he spent hours on the phone some days. At the same time, he was always willing to meet my friends, even when I was sure the activity or venue wouldn’t appeal to him. When I would introduce him to people from work, he would make such a stellar first impression and they wouldn’t shut up about how amazing he was for days after.
So, the mystery was, how did a man become so successful, and such an extrovert, while at the same time having no serious relationships in his life? It baffled me, and I found myself watching him closely whenever we were out together. I was desperate for a crumb of information. I kept hoping that eventually, we would run into someone he knew, but it never happened.
All the secretive nonsense makes it sound like Trevor would have been a pain to date, but that just wasn’t the case. His weird, lone-wolf-style life didn’t interrupt our relationship much and, in the beginning, we were so perfectly matched that it didn’t even really seem to matter.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with Trevor but I do remember the first time I told him so, though. We were spending massive amounts of time together, only split up by the week-long trips he sometimes took for work. Slowly but surely, the drawers at my apartment filled up with his clothes, and in half a year's time, the idea of us ever separating felt ludicrous.
It wasn’t some grand gesture that convinced me I loved him, either. I had just finished up an endless day of work with a particularly demanding photographer, and I was exhausted down to my bones when Trevor texted me.
He was in LA and told me to meet him at one of the five-star hotels we regularly spent the night in, telling me he had gotten a suite for the evening if I was interested, so I wouldn’t have to stay at the model house with everyone else. He was never pushy, and as much as I had been dreaming of my own bed, I took him up on his offer and drove to the hotel instead.
I had washed my face in the bathroom on set, but it was never enough to get all the makeup off, and I could feel the remnants of it on my skin as I rode the elevator up to the top floor. We had stayed in this suite before, and I knew the enormous jacuzzi tub would help me feel more like myself, and if I was lucky, Trevor would have had the foresight to bring me some comfortable clothes to change into and order some room service.
Thoughts of the jacuzzi, and the scented oils the hotel provided, were swimming in my mind as I swiped the card to open the door to the presidential suite, and I was distracted enough that it took me a second to notice all the things that were different in the suite.
The lights were low, candles lit on almost every surface, and two massage tables unfolded in the center of the front room. My eyes shot to Trevor, who was waiting for me with a glass of red wine that he handed me as I shut the door, craning my head to look at everything he had set up.
“What is all this?” I asked, swirling the wine in the glass before bringing it to my lips.
His smile was knowing. “I ordered us massages from the on-site spa, so why don’t you go shower, and then I’ll call them up to get started. I know you had a rough day.”
I think it was at that moment, when it seemed he had been able to read my mind and provide me with exactly what I needed, that I knew I’d wave away any red flags for this man. That sentiment wouldn’t always last, but then, before we had moved in together and before I had learned the depth of his secret life, I was sure he was the one for me.
That night, lying beneath the sheets, both our skin smooth from massage oils and our muscles relaxed, I told Trevor I loved him. There was a look of triumph in his eyes that, at the time, I attributed to the happiness my statement gave him. Now, looking back, I wonder if that look was because he knew he had me firmly on the hook.
Still, he said, “I love you too.”
And that was enough to make me happy.
Maybe it was the mixture of the wine and our relaxed state but that night was memorable, not just because we confessed our love for each other. It was one of the first times I felt cherished, taken care of.
Being a porn star makes you think of every move you do when you’re on camera so it’s hard to really enjoy the sensations and actions happening. You’re more worried about how you sound and look than what your body is feeling.
After the massages, we were both relaxed, our bodies heavy and coursing with dopamine. Trevor led me to bed, both of us moving slowly. The candles flickered all around us, giving the room a cozy glow. It felt like we had been wrapped in warm honey.
His hands moved to my cheeks, caressing me softly.
“You are what I treasure the most,” he whispered, his voice low against my ear. I smiled, leaning into him. My hand was against his chest, tracing small circles across his chest. His words played over in my head. If I had been a little clearer headed, the warning bells would have been going off. However, the wine had flowed heavily so my head and heart were both quite fuzzy.
He pushed me gently to the bed, holding on to the edge of the towel that had covered my body. My body hit the bed, completely exposed and naked to him. The light bounced off my freshly oiled skin, making me look that much more of a goddess. He dropped the towel next to him, pulling it away from his waist.
I looked up at him, my eyes heavy with lust. In that second, I could see a life I had always imagined. He was the center of my world as he stood above me, looking down at me. I reached my arms up, waiting for him to join me.
He crawled on top of me, running his hands up my soft body, the scent of the oils reactivated with his motions.
He lifted my leg, kissing my ankle gently as he hooked it over his shoulder. I blinked slowly, taking notice of how much more flexible I was with muscles warmed up and massaged. I gasped slightly, watching my foot go higher and higher over my head.
It wasn’t the first time we had had sex. But it somehow felt more special, more memorable. Every word out of his mouth was perfect. The lighting, the massage, how he touched me. It was all spot on.
“You are so beautiful,” he moaned, moving his hips slowly against me. He ran his hands up my body and interlocked our hands together, holding on to me like I was his lifeline. We moved slowly, exploring each other's bodies. We didn’t have a deadline; no directors yelled “cut!” in the background.
It was just me and Trevor. The sounds of me sighing and moaning almost sounded foreign to my ears, used to much louder output. I was focused on him and only him.
He stared at me, his eyes intense as he thrust into me. I could feel my body slowly coiling, the muscles tightening. He narrowed his eyes, locked on my expression. He seemed to be studying every move and sound I let out.
