“Remember, acting is all in the eyes! They are the windows to the soul.” When I had desperately begged my Mother for acting classes in middle school, that was the first thing they taught me. And it’s one hundred percent true. You can tell an entire story with your eyes alone, but it takes talent and practice.

I had come to Los Angeles with the dream of being a great actress. I was damn good at it, studying all the greats. I was praised for my skills and graduated college with critical acclaim for all my performances. I had spent thousands on head shots and classes and jumped every hoop they told me to go through. Took me a while to realize it meant jack shit.

It’s who you know and how far you can keep your tongue up their ass. That’s why there’re no real actors in Hollywood anymore. Blood and money. Those are the only two ways to make it. For the rest of us, there’s always sucking cocks.

I mean, I had legit jobs at first. Waitress, maid, even worked in an office for a bit. Normally two jobs at a time to keep up with LA rent prices. It was always the same though, dirty old men pawing at me and dehumanizing working conditions. I figured I would try my hand as a hooker; it paid better and I was only on my back a few hours a week. Turns out becoming an actual whore made me feel like less of a prostitute than the alternatives.

Go figure.

I lost my love for acting, at least for being a movie star. Consider that dream thoroughly crushed. I still do the occasional stage role; they never pay. However, community theater has been a great place to find rich old men. Giving a good performance and snagging new clients … it's all in the eyes.

What the rich kids floundering on the big stages never figure out is that you have to catch the vibe of the audience and change your performance. No two nights should be alike. Neither should any two blow jobs.

So take this fella currently undoing his belt. Kept creeping around to talk to me at the after party. Telling me how much I reminded him of his daughter. What is it with weird old fucks and thinking that’s a pick-up line? Bet he’s been eye banging his daughter’s friends for years. I guarantee it. Meant I could get a lot of money out of him with a good performance.

You start with the makeup, customized to the job. Some men are fuckers, wanting nothing more than to pound your uvula and get a good gag from you. You’ll want tons of mascara for those guys; they like seeing it run down your face. I don’t bother with them too much unless they’re paying out the ass.

For this mark I worked an illusion. The ‘no makeup makeup.’ Takes a lot of practice to figure out how to look natural. A darker blush and lightening it out as you get closer to your orbital sockets. Curled lashes and a slight wing. Everything about the look invites someone to meet my gaze. Next, a little performance.

“So, you’ll really help me make rent? I’m so scared of being homeless.” He wants to believe he’s a good person even though he’s a piece of shit. So I gotta make sure he feels like he’s doing me a favor. Fed him the sob story at the party, and he quickly arranged to meet me in this motel. Said he would help me out. “Do you know what they do to girls on the street?!”

“Of course, poor girl.” I pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. We hadn’t discussed the finer details, and I’m glad I didn’t. Already he was forking out more than I would have asked. I play that gamble for guys like him. Works out normally. By the time I finish with him, I’ll have even more.

I quivered my lip. “Thank you! Oh, thank you! You’re so kind.” Make it seem like what it’s not. Like we’re two people doing each other a solid. He can go home and sleep next to his wife thinking he helped out a poor little girl. “I… I want to show you my gratitude. If that’s alright with you… I know you’re married, but you’ve been so good to me.” Easier than accepting he’s trash who paid a girl his daughter’s age to slobber his knob for a few minutes.

I used to think I could predict if a guy would stick it in your mouth or if I would have to go do it for him. The only thing anymore that still surprises me. You see, with how timid 'family man' was, I would have assumed he would sit there till fucking kingdom come before making a move. No, he slid his pecker right into my gob and off we go.

The biggest mistake an amateur can make here is closing her eyes and wincing. No man wants that. Some of them really like it if you act like it’s terrible. But they don’t want you to hide it. For this guy, he wanted desperation. To keep the illusion going, like I was going to be dead tomorrow if not for his generous offer to let me suck him off. Hungry eyes, but with shame. Shame would be a big theme with him.

Every once in a while a girl has to challenge herself. And I felt like doing that here. I could have his load blown in under a minute if I went all out. But I wanted to see how long it would take with just the eyes. I knew he wasn’t going to be a throat fucker. Now that I was suckling on his head, he froze in place. And that was all he was going to get. No bobbing up and down. No fancy tongue work. No playing with the balls. A little suction and the eyes.

He wanted someone virginal anyway; it probably wasn’t that big of a handicap. I could tell he wanted me to take in his shaft. He was toying with the idea of a gentle thrust. I brought out the wet eyes again. Added a touch of fear by widening the eyes when I felt his the head pulse in my mouth. He patted my head. “It’s OK, you’re doing just fine. Take your time.” Ha! Hook, line, and sinker. His hips went still, and it was his turn to look ashamed for even thinking of it.

Next, gratitude. I switched up my eyes. I brightened them, making it seem like I was smiling. Like I was lowly and undeserving of even the tip of his old man cock. There is no lie a man will fall for faster than believing a woman wants him. After a few seconds I threw in a little giggle. And I could see it had the intended effect.

Fuck, he was starting to swell, and he made this weird gurgling noise. Hope I wasn’t killing him. That happened once. Awkward morning. Either way, this wasn’t going to take much longer at all. So onto delight. Similar to gratitude, but with a touch more excitement. Like a kid on Christmas morning sort of thing, wonderment. You occasionally widen your eyes more open, letting them almost bulge out a bit. Really sells like this is something special.

He started groaning. Time to take it home. Fear and awe. Men are constantly hoping their cocks are gonna scare and entice someone at the same time. I’m sure the Freudian types could dissect that all day. Most of us only have time to accept it for what it is and use it to our advantage. I squint my eyes, the threat of looking away.

My gaze starts darting wildly from down to his volatile little friend ready to explode in my mouth and back up to looking him in the face. Still only giving him the same gentle suck, but with some heaving breaths and the threat of a panic attack thrown in.

And pop goes the weasel. He was cumming. Now let me tell you, the next move was some pro shit.

At the end of any hummer there’s the constant dilemma. Spit, swallow, or facial. But with this sad sack feeling all bad and shit for me, I was gonna milk him for all he was worth. Financially speaking, of course. I mean, the other way too.

So I started out with that fear in my eyes. His balls start pumping cum into my mouth and I let some of it slide down my throat. At this point, it’s like shooting an oyster. Not my favorite but something I can tolerate easily enough. I could easily take a belly full of spunk if the situation called. But I let a few tears loose and then came the big performance.

Disgust, sickness. A revolting gag on his sperm and then coughing up his jizz back onto him. Then laying back on that shame. As thick as I can make it. It’s a little counterintuitive. Normally when you’re degraded, you’ll look away. But I kept feeding him those sad eyes as his cock slid from my mouth during my little coughing spell.

And a cumming fuck stick isn’t exactly a faucet that turns off. It kept going, splashing me across the face and tits. And then I let the waterworks go. Full-on crying and mortification, still looking him right down the barrel.

Ha, I’m fucking good. I think he was on the verge of tears by the time he was dribbling onto his shoes. “Sorry, oh fuck! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just… I only wanted to act!” Fuck those nepo-baby pricks and their red carpets. This was a performance worthy of an Oscar. “I… I just wanted to act and now I need to do this!”

He cleared out of the motel quickly and I had every single fucking red cent he brought with him. And just like that, I had this month’s rent. Took all of ten minutes. You know, some of my old coworkers feel sorry for me when I tell them what I do now. Like they had some high moral high ground because when they were lowering themselves and taking it up the ass, it was metaphorical. Also takes them seventy-hour weeks to earn what I just did. Who’s really selling themselves?

But maybe they just couldn’t do it like I can. A good blowjob is a skill worth honing. And it’s all in the eyes.