Interview with Faye Barts

Faye Barts sits for an interview. She tells you straight—she fucks for a living and she does it well. Between those lines she lets a few things slip about what happens when the camera cuts and real life kicks back in. Blonde hair loose, young skin still warm from the lights, she talks while her hand drifts under the hem of her dress. Fingers trace the inside of her thigh, slip beneath soft cotton, and come back slick. She keeps talking. The questions fade. Her breath catches. She spreads a little wider, parts the wet folds, circles her clit in lazy strokes that pick up speed. Her free hand cups a breast, pinching the nipple through lace until it stands stiff. Eyes half-closed, she pushes two fingers inside, hips rolling to meet each thrust. Wet sounds fill the quiet. She bites her lip, moans low, and keeps going until her thighs shake and her voice cracks on the last word.