, ,

Thank you for reading my new erotica series, College of Adult Film Studies (CAFS). I am sharing book one, which follows Mia Martin, a young woman who wants to be an adult film star and stumbles upon a college that will train her on exactly how to do so. Each week I will share 500-1000 words with you for your enjoyment. 

P.S. I left a little bit off of installment two last week (oops)! It appears below before Chapter 2 begins. 

*The following contains explicit content, 18+ readers, please. Also, this is a draft copy which has not been edited for publication.

Mia (cont’d)

“You can get dressed, and here is a course catalog,” Misty says. “You can check into the dorms the first week of August. We will have orientation that week as well,” she continues.

With excited, shaky hands I fumble to put my clothes on, shake their hands, and walk out the door. All of my dreams are coming true and I could not be happier. When I get back to Alabama, I will be counting the days to the first week of August.


College of Adult Film Studies (CAFS)

(working title)

by D.W. Marshall

Chapter Two



August was here before I knew it and I couldn’t be happier. As far as my family knows I enrolled in a Master’s program in Las Vegas. My mother was a teen bride and mother, and had me at seventeen. My father was never in the picture, so she and I grew up together. She remarried my stepdad Seth when I was sixteen, and he is a wonderful guy. They decided to have kids, and I have a three-year old sister, and a one-year old brother, so my mother is thankfully too preoccupied raising a young family to worry too much about the details of what I am doing.

I think August is hotter than July in Vegas. It’s not humid by any means, more like feeling as though I am baking I an oven. Whew. The college isn’t far from the airport, so I decide to take a cab rather than renting a car or arranging a pick up. I don’t even have to wait because there are cabs everywhere when I exit the airport. My stomach is full of nervous tension. I can’t believe someone had the intelligence to open a college designed for sex addicts like me who want to be porn stars. Hell, I wish I had thought of it.

When the cab pulls up in front of the school, I am a complete ball of nerves. My dreams are all coming true.

“I heard about this school. So you want to be a porn star?” The cab driver turns and looks back at me.

“Yep. I plan to be one of the best.”

“Well good luck to you miss,” he says.

“Thank you so much!” I hand him the fare plus tip, grab my bags and head inside the sleek black, chrome, and glass building.

Screen Shot 2016-03-31 at 2.45.34 PM

Beautiful. I can’t remember seeing anything so modern and gorgeous back home. Only amazing things can happen in such an amazing place. The program is one to two years long depending on the track you choose. The acting track is automatically two years long. I am fine with it that, sure I am on the fast-track to becoming an adult film star, but I also want to be the most marketable star around and this place can help me with that goal.

The lobby is swollen with wide-eyed newbies like me. I gather with a small group of students at a sign that says Welcome Year One Students. We are all equally intent on finding out what our next instructions are. The sign announces that we are to go to the registration desk, give our names, and receive our individual packets. We are also expected to be in two orientations today, one for the school and one for the residence halls.

Our small gaggle heads to the registration desk. We do not have to wait long, because there are six people waiting with instructions for line up based on your last initial. My last name is Martin, so I line up in the third line. I am only four people back, but it gives me enough time to take in my surroundings a bit. Again, I am underdressed. Most of the girls in line are wearing sky-high heels (one chick’s heels look like they are made of glass), skimpy dresses, and tons of makeup. I don’t know why, but I can’t dress like that. I mean if I have to for a role, fine, but that is not me. I am too simple for that. So standing in line in my multi-colored capri Lulu’s, flip-flops, and a black tank makes me look completely out of place. Add my high pony-tail and I look like I should be heading to a yoga convention. The way I see it, sex is who who I am, not what I wear.

“Mia Martin,” I say when it is my turn.

“You’re Ms. Martin?” the very pretty woman says with disbelief. She doesn’t look like she belongs here herself. She has deep brown skin and a very conservative chin length bob. Her attire is business, law office business. Seems someone on my interview panel has spoken about me. This woman definitely doubts the truth in it.


Thank you so much for tuning in and reading about Mia’s new adventure. I will upload more next week!

Read more by D.W. Marshall

© Copyright 2016 D.W. Marshall