Amazing, isn't it? Every single day, it's the same thing: "Show some more sex appeal,toss your hair around more; squeeze your tits harder." It's too much work. Listen, don't get me wrong, I love the fact I have a worldwide fan base, but sometimes, I'd rather be remembered doing something worthwhile, as someone who's willing to help those who are down on their luck. i would hate to be remembered as the one outlet to quickly get a guy--or woman--off. Guess shouldn't have been a porn star, eh?
My name is Nicole Anderson, but everyone with a tape deck and monthly online subscription knows me as "Nikki Delite". I didn't choose this name, by the way; if I did, it would have been something a bit less sleazy. My boyfriend, Danny Wood, chose this name for me. Isn't he the sweetest? I hated it, but what can you do? He insisted it stick. Danny was very persistent. I hated THAT, too.
“Everyone loves your name!” he would say before I showed my stuff for the camera, or when I would complain. “You're worldwide now, Babe. Can't you just go with it?” Like I had a choice. I would tell him that Nikki Delite is not “My” name, but that would be a pointless argument where Danny believed in his heart of hearts that he won. I give him an A for effort, though; he always knew what to say to get my goat.
I wanted to be a lawyer. I wanted to give back to the community by saving those who were getting evicted, to suspects who were obviously innocent, but the justice system believed otherwise.
Unfortunately, since the penal system is so corrupt, I chose to fore go my dream in becoming a lawyer. I also wanted to be a therapist, but not a sensationalized one like Iyanla van Zandt or Jeff VanVondren. I prefer one-on-one sessions rather than having cameras following our every move. Instead of being someone who helps others cope, I sought after a 'better and less undermining' career.
I veered left when I needed to move straight ahead.
I was approached by a modeling agency one day in my sophomore year in college—it was where I also met Danny (who was a photographer at the time). The rest, dare I say it, was history. Posing nude was the last thing I wanted to do as a career, or side job...but my student loans started piling up, my rent was getting paid less and less, and I was on the verge of desperation. I needed the money. Bad.
After two successful spreads in local magazines, an adult film company called “Red Lite District Co.” chose me as the new face of the company. Who was I to turn THAT down?
Soon after, Danny and I moved to Florida in order to start our new jobs, and within two years, our faces and skills were globally recognized; we were set for life.
So now, here I am, finishing up a girl on girl set for my next feature film, and I'm no longer feeling it. “Nick,” Danny said while peering his head from behind the camera. “What's going on with you? Get your head out of your ass,” he oh, so politely ordered. My co-sta, who sat up to cover herself noticed I wasn't feeling it today, so she ran her hand past her throat signaling Danny to stop rolling.
“D, we don't have to shoot the final scene today. Let's wrap up for now, and we'll pick up tomorrow, okay?” Reluctantly, he moved away from the camera throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. We'll break until tomorrow afternoon. 2:00pm. SHARP. NO excuses.”
“Do you really have to be such an asshole?”
“Just be here,” he said before storming out of the room. Naturally, I wasn't intimidated by him. I didn't care how upset he got. I wanted to go home. I wanted out. Of everything.
Shayna and I grabbed our clothes and got dressed before heading out the door. “I'll see you tomorrow, Nikki. Make sure the Grouch gets his coffee before getting here,” she said with a laugh. I smile and nod, grabbing my purse from off the prop table.
Before I was able to leave, I felt my arm being tugged; I look up and I notice that Danny's eyes were icy black.
I feel an argument coming on.
“Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me something?” he ask as if he could read me like a book. He never could. “What are you talking about?” “Don't, Nicole. You know damn well what I'm talking about. You keep pushing back the production dates, knowing full well I'm shooting for a all release to the sequel. What's going on?”
I look down and sigh inwardly. “Daniel...I don't want to do this anymore.” I break away from his tight hold and look away from him. “Is that right?” “Yes.” Danny was obviously unhappy and confused at the same time. “Why are you doing this now?” he knew of my past aspirations of being a lawyer or something of better quality. Pretty much, he told me to forget about ever getting back into the chase and keep every male fan wanting more of my material.
I was more of a work horse than a business partner and lover.
“I don't want to talk about it right now,” I said before finally making my exit and releasing the breath I held in for so long.
I guess I really wanted to get the hell outta dodge and head home, for I collided with an unsuspecting civilian. “Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!” I exclaimed while retriving my purse. “No, no, it was all my fault—I should have watch where I was going,” the male voice rebutted.
I looked up and was met with the most penetrating blue eyes I have ever seen. His face was fair, clean and full of youth, even though he looked to be quite older, no further than 40.
His face also lack emotion somehow. “Your purse,” he handed it back to me and I instinctively checked to see if everything was in place. “It's all there, Nikki,” he/ whispered. I felt a chill run through my body the minute he said my name. Where it came from? I haven't the faintest clue.
“You're a fan?” I asked, humoring him. “How can I not be? You're Nikki Delite! I have seen all of your movies; every last one is different and unique, just like you,” he smiled as he finished complimenting me. I laughed for I found myself nervous around him.
“Why are you laughing?” “I'm flattered,” I said. “You really like my work?” “I wouldn't lie about something like that. I'm not like any other fan you've met. I see you as a work of art,” he concluded, his gaze never falling away from me.
The way this guy looked at me let me further know he's easily amused by something beautiful. I never thought of myself as a work of art, but apparently, he knew the subject well. I still couldn't share his sentiment. “Stunning...” I heard him say in a breathless tone. It...unnerved me. I didn't know why, but...it did.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Joseph McIntyre, but everyone calls me Joey. It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Nikki,” he said before turning around to walk away. Joey stopped to pass another glance at me, then walked down the street, his hands bundled in his coat pockets whistling. “Huh.” I thought. “Oh, well. I'll probably never see him again. A chance encounter at best,” I said to myself before getting in my car.
I sigh as I drive down the quiet, dusky road—all I could think about was getting a nice cool glass of white wine and a good book, and the mystery man. His voice...it's haunting and it gave me chills once again. Who was he? Was he really a fan of my work, or just another man trying to humor me again? Whoever he was, I hope to never see the likes of Joey McIntyre again.
Though, something tells me we'll meet again. Fate's a funny bitch, ya know.
