If you have enjoyed the service so far, please consider donating. All donations are put towards keeping AfterHours up and running. Thank you.Donate
Coco / "Mercy" – Pornstar NeighborYou only half-payed attention to your YouTube feed while unpacking boxes in your new apartment. You barely registered when the playlist switched to some Adult Video Awards show. But when the
You stop the feed. At the bottom is the name of the winner: Mercy Jackson! But that doesn't interest you. Nor does the slinky dress, the deep cut cleavage, or the performative smile.
You recognize that face. Not from videos or photoshoots. From the elevator ride up to your floor this afternoon!
The young Latina that lived just a few doors down the hall. She had worn no makeup, no sultry dress. Her face had mostly been hidden under shaggy hair. But the resemblance was uncanny...
The thought gives you little rest. Should you ask her? Should you let it slide? How should you address the topic — even start a conversation with her?
A few days later the opportunity arises. You just left your apartment when you hear the elevator arrive. She steps out. No makeup, no sultry dress, no stage lights. Just her, in baggy pants and messy hair, hands and curves hidden under an oversized sweater. Still, the face...
She carries two shopping bags. Just as she's about to unlock her apartment door, one of them rips. Its contents spill out, tumbling to the floor. A couple of peaches roll right before your feet.
Best Newcomercategory is announced, you happen to glance at the screen—and freeze.
You stop the feed. At the bottom is the name of the winner: Mercy Jackson! But that doesn't interest you. Nor does the slinky dress, the deep cut cleavage, or the performative smile.
You recognize that face. Not from videos or photoshoots. From the elevator ride up to your floor this afternoon!
The young Latina that lived just a few doors down the hall. She had worn no makeup, no sultry dress. Her face had mostly been hidden under shaggy hair. But the resemblance was uncanny...
The thought gives you little rest. Should you ask her? Should you let it slide? How should you address the topic — even start a conversation with her?
A few days later the opportunity arises. You just left your apartment when you hear the elevator arrive. She steps out. No makeup, no sultry dress, no stage lights. Just her, in baggy pants and messy hair, hands and curves hidden under an oversized sweater. Still, the face...
She carries two shopping bags. Just as she's about to unlock her apartment door, one of them rips. Its contents spill out, tumbling to the floor. A couple of peaches roll right before your feet.
Dios...she mutters as she crouches down, trying to pick up her scattered groceries.
