Former porn-star Robin Whethers has skated by as Pornucopia’s do-nothing accountant for years. And who can blame her? Her supervisor has only encouraged her dillydallying, and it’s given her oodles of time to do what she loves most: coach the talent at her mentor’s all-female pornography studio.
But then the IRS comes knocking. With her supervisor unable to bail her out, Robin can either come clean and risk her friendships and career, or buck up and find another way to skirt the system. No matter how she chooses, along the way she’ll have to confront both her blossoming feelings for the man she’s enlisted to teach her accounting and the return of the woman she’s always loved, who’s finally ready to try to make things work.
This lighthearted yet evocative tale of one woman’s quest for self-actualization is sure to please anyone who’s ever made the wrong choice for the right reasons.
Title: Accounting for It All
Author: r.r. campbell
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: November 19, 2018
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Female, Female/Female
Length: 89000
Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, bisexual, porn, accounting, professor, fraud, grief, wlw, money laundering
Exclusive Excerpt
Accounting for It All
R.R. Campbell © 2018
All Rights Reserved
I swirl my paintbrush around in my cup, the water spinning faster and faster as I keep at it. “I don’t know why we couldn’t go to the Wittmore instead.”
Joss pokes her head out around the side of her canvas. Her hair is pulled back tight in a high pony, and the contacts she’s wearing are still throwing me for a loop; I haven’t seen her without her glasses on since her acting days. “We go to the Wittmore every Wednesday—”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s why it’s called Wittmore Wednesday.”
Cee presses a brush to her own canvas on my right. She keeps her eyes on her work as she jumps into the conversation. “It’s called Wittmore Wednesday because you choose to have us go to that skeezy hotel bar when it’s your turn to pick.” She dabs at her canvas, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. “Besides, we’ve gotta do artsy things when it’s Joss’s turn—otherwise how’s she gonna keep feeling so fancy? She’s gotta make use of her art-school education somehow.”
“Excuse me?” Joss says. “This is Paint Tyme, not a studio session at the Cooper Union.”
Cee puts her free hand to her chest. She tries out this English-sounding accent, which isn’t really her thing. “Oh, well, excuse me—it seems we plebs know nothing of the Cooper Union.”
I snort laugh, which botches the bluish-gray brushstroke I was making in the corner of my canvas. My laugh puts Cee to bellowing, which has Joss biting her lip to keep from doing the same.
Cee starts teasing Joss again hardly a second later. Making fun of her for her “starving artist” attitude toward her role as a director is one of our favorite pastimes, after all. I mean, Joss is great at what she does—there aren’t many feminist porn directors out there who can say they’ve been nominated for Feminist Porn Awards five years running, but there aren’t any who can say they’ve been nominated for so many without ever having won.
Yeah, it’s a sore spot for her. We try to avoid bringing it up.
The two of them keep bickering while I train my ears toward the front of the tiny café hosting this Paint Tyme event. The instructor—midthirties and wearing a sweatshirt underneath his apron despite the normally blazing temperatures this time of year—seems to have the hots for a girl at the front table, which has been plenty entertaining to watch when Cee and Joss aren’t playing WrestleMania with words.
“So now”—the instructor says, speaking directly to blondie, the rest of us apparently undeserving of his infinite wisdom—“I want you to grab your ‘fat man’ brush and make long gentle strokes.” On his own canvas he shows where he means—he’s trying to get everyone to paint a wine bottle and a basket of bread—but the words “fat man” get me fixated on Jerry, which triggers thoughts of the funeral, which jacks up my concern over how someone’s gonna have to step into his accounting role soon. God, I hope Cee has a plan for that ’cause there’s no way I’m qualified to take it on.
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Born Ryan Campbell, r. r. campbell is an author, editor, and host of the r. r. campbell writescast. His work has been featured in Five:2:One Magazine’s #thesideshow, Erotic Review, and with National Journal Writing Month. He lives in Madison, Wisconsin with his wife, Lacey, and their cats, Hashtag and Rhaegar.
