Angela and the Revenge Porn (1 of 2)

Angela Candelema is a beautiful intelligent young woman with a smile for everyone and big plans for the future. One pervert can ruin her life.

2011 – London

Chapter 1
As Angela Candelema strolled down the bustling streets of East London, her effervescent smile seemed to capture the attention of nearly every passerby. She exuded a youthful charm and optimism that uplifted the spirits of those fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her. At twenty-four years old, Angela possessed a vitality and enthusiasm for life that was truly infectious.
Hailing from the vibrant city of Barcelona, Angela was a vision of beauty at five feet six inches tall. While her height may have fallen just short of the runway, her striking features—accentuated by her dark complexion, captivating black eyes, and cascading brown curls—ensured that she commanded attention wherever she went. Her smile, radiant and genuine, had a way of making everyone she encountered feel as though they were in the presence of true beauty.
Despite her undeniable physical allure, Angela’s focus lay primarily on nurturing her intellect. Armed with a first-class degree from Cambridge University, she possessed a keen desire to delve deeper into the realm of education. Rather than succumbing to the allure of lucrative offers from soulless investment banks, Angela chose a path less travelled: she embraced a role as a primary school teacher in East London. Simultaneously, she embarked on a journey of academic pursuit, pursuing a part-time master’s degree in education with aspirations of one day becoming a respected academic in the field.
On this particular Saturday, Angela’s schedule was as vibrant and dynamic as her personality. Having just concluded her morning coaching session with the schoolgirls’ hockey team, she was now en route to a dance class—a refreshing alternative to the monotony of the gym, where she relished not only the physical activity but also the pulsating rhythms and the camaraderie of collective movement.

Following her dance class, Angela had plans for an evening rendezvous with Peter, a promising young surgeon who had arranged a reservation at one of central London’s premier restaurants. While she looked forward to deepening their connection, she held firm to her intentions of maintaining a respectful pace in their relationship.

Tomorrow’s agenda was equally packed with purpose. Angela had committed her time to volunteering at a children’s event, followed by tutoring music to earn some extra income—a responsibility that weighed on her mind amidst the challenges of London’s high cost of living, exorbitant rent prices, and the demands of her modest teacher’s salary.

Despite the financial strain, Angela was determined to carve out her own path without relying on her parents’ benevolence, though their support was always warmly offered. Instead, she harboured a desire for them to enjoy their retirement years without the burden of providing for her.

Chapter 2
“What are you doing up there? I need help down here; you come down here
“What are you doing up there? I need help down here; you come down here at once !” at once !”
Edward Pembroke scowled. He had been furiously masturbating over his laptrop screen when the shrill voice of his mother interrupted him.
“You looking at porn again, I suppose! You need to find a girlfriend instead of living up there like a hermit. Help me! Now!”
Pembroke sighed. He had not been close to cumming, but was masturbating to the Facebook profile of one Julia Meadows, an American student from Idaho. That morning he had logged on through the onion dark web to his favourite website, “Pink Meth.” The site was a revenge porn site, where videos of girls naked and/or having sex were posted along with their social media details, and the contact/social media details of their friends , family, and co-workers.
Pembroke had grown to love the site and the community it fostered. He was most excited when a new girl would be posted. Julia had been posted less than an hour ago. He had no idea who had posted her or who she was, but as soon as he saw her, he quickly looked her up on Facebook. She was a university student at the University of Michigan and an aspiring dentist. He saw numerous photographs of her on Facebook with her family and friends, and she looked happy. She was gorgeous, blonde, tall, and slim.
Her new Pinkmeth profile, created in her name, was a little different. The photographs were of her naked, in bed, one with her fingers in her pussy, another of her in doggy style, her face turned back over her shoulder, so the photo captured her pussy, ass and face in one shot. There was also a video of her naked, lying back, fingering herself and one hand cupping her breasts. She looked drunk. The video and photographs had obviously been taken by a sex partner.
Like most of the girls, the photographs had been leaked, stolen, or been posted directly by the guy who had taken them. Juia would soon find out about this posting, which was what Pembroke was eagerly looking forward to. As soon as he had seen the new posting, he had saved all the photos, the video, and her name. He also saved the contact details put up about herself, her Facebook friends list, and her family. He saw that she was part of some university groups and saved those too.
The first inkling the girls usually got, that their intimate photos were now plastered for everyone to see, would be friend requests from random men around the world. “OMG why are all these guys suddenly friending me lol” one girl had posted on her Facebook wall. Pembroke smiled as he had seen that post. He knew the girl was very soon going to realise her life would be changed forever. Half an hour later, her Facebook and LinkedIn were completely private, confirming that she had become aware of the photos.
Julia Meadows was currently in that strange twilight of having her intimate photos up, but not yet being aware of it. As soon as she was up, the comments underneath the profile sprang up, with men praising her appearance and boasting of how they had “done their bit” for the community by posting her pictures online. Some just posted them anonymously around the internet, like nuggets waiting to be found by those who knew her. Others tagged her name, or added her name to the photos. And others went even further, using fake social media profiles to send photos to family members, employers, and friends whose details were helpfully provided alongside the profile. They would boast of this with screenshots, sometimes showing responses from angry and distraught parents and friends demanding that they leave their daughter/friend/girlfriend alone and take the photos down.
On this occasion, Pembroke had uploaded Julia’s photos to a few sites, and saved them to his hard drive. He liked to think he was helping the community. He enjoyed the feeling of ruining and exposing a young woman, and the knowledge that from now on, everyone Julia knew, or would ever know, would now be able to see her naked. Her photos would be seen and sent to al her employers, and friends, and she would not be able to stop it or control it.
The site could not be shut down. Pleas from girls, to have their profiles and photos taken down, were ignored. The girls would come to know that the photos and videos would now follow them around forever. If they had children, or planned to have children, then they would have to tell them about the photos before they saw them themselves. There were several dedicated members of the community who went out of their way to track the kids down and send naked photos of their moms to all the kids’ friends.
Pleading emails and messages from the victims would be published on their profile. Their begging would only turn on the men even more. Pembroke found it the ultimate high, the ability to destroy a beautiful young girl’s life by posting her naked body everywhere on the internet.
And the best bit? It was legal. Revenge porn was not a illegal offence in the UK or anywhere. While the site was on the dark web, the despairing young women found that they had no legal recourse anyway. They did not own the photographs and were powerless, knowing that their photos would be shared thousands of times. Anonymous men, who did not know them at all, were committed to spreading their naked bodies everywhere to shame them.
Pembroke had been staring at the screen, looking at the naked form of Julia Meadows, and the postings of her on dozens of websites already, the growing number of Pinkmeth comments, and the boatsts of other men about how much they had spread her about. He switched back and forth from these to Julia’s Facebook profile, that of an all-American young woman living life at her fullest, waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall on her.
Pembroke had been addicted to the site for nearly a year now. His favourite victim so far had been an American professor whose naked pictures had been unearthed from 1986 and uploaded to the site. She had apparently continued to lecture, and Pembroke had kept checking her profile. Some comments had come from her students who had commented that she no longer chatted after lectures but left straight afterwards. They made posts about how the university had emailed everyone about the danger of sending nude pictures.
Pembroke enjoyed the vicarious thrills of seeing the hot young women’s lives being ruined while masturbating over their increadible bodies. He loved the fact he was helping to seal their fate by sharing their photos but did wish he could find his own victim, partly for the thrill but also the perverse alturism of helping out this toxic community.
Ruefully he knew it would be unlikely he could convince any attractive woman to undress for photos or send him such photos. He was fifty, fat, and lived with his bedridden mother in rural Essex. He had never had much luck with women, had never had a girlfriend and other than prostitutes, his only female company was his overbearing mother.
“Edward! Stop dallying! Come down here now!”
Pembroke turned the laptop off, tucked his erection into his trousers and went downstairs. He would have to help his mother clean up after going to the toilet. Nothing was more likely to kill horny thoughts.

Chapter 3
As Angela Candelema slipped into her pyjamas on Sunday evening, the lively chatter over evening tea with her flatmates lingered in her mind. Among them were Teresa, an Italian model and actress, and Gillian, a driven young investment banker—each a testament to the vibrant tapestry of ambitious young women making their mark in London’s social scene. Their conversations spanned from gossip to Angela’s blossoming romance with the charming surgeon, painting a picture of a life brimming with excitement and activity.

Yet, beneath Angela’s outward vivacity lay a persistent concern: the perpetual strain of financial constraints. Despite her relentless pursuit of part-time work, the earnings fell short of satisfying her aspirations for exploration and enjoyment. Faced with this dilemma, Angela contemplated an unconventional suggestion from Teresa—entering the realm of escorting—a proposition that conflicted deeply with her moral principles and self-image as a role model for her students.
Moreover, the impending visit of her cousin Daniel, who harbored dreams of experiencing London’s sights despite his family’s modest means, added to Angela’s turmoil. The prospect of fulfilling Daniel’s wishes weighed heavily on her conscience, especially considering the significant financial burden it entailed.
The following day Angela immersed herself in her role as a beloved teacher at the school, where her influence extended far beyond the confines of the classroom. With a mere glance, she commanded the respect of even the most unruly students, while her vibrant personality endeared her to all. Clad in conservative yet colorful attire, Angela exuded warmth and approachability, endearing herself not only to her students but also to their parents, who couldn’t help but be captivated by her charm and genuine interest in their children’s progress.
Despite the admiration she garnered, Angela carried the weight of her inner conflict discreetly, her unwavering dedication to her morals and obligations evident even amidst the facade of her effortlessly charming demeanour.

As Angela reviewed her bank balance after a long day at work, a sinking feeling washed over her as she realized the grim reality: after settling her rent, she was left with a mere hundred pounds to cover her expenses. Panic set in as she meticulously combed through her calendar, mentally tallying the mounting costs of her commitments and the added pressure of fulfilling her promises to Daniel.

Faced with the daunting prospect of juggling her financial constraints with her desire to provide a memorable experience for her cousin, Angela felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. The weight of responsibility bore down on her shoulders as she struggled to devise a plan that would allow her to navigate the precarious balance between her obligations and her aspirations.
That evening, in her bedroom, she changed into some of her sexiest lingerie and took some photographs and selfies. She was very careful to leave out her face. She emailed these to an escort website service with some details about herself and waited to hear back.
The next day, after work, she went straight to a dance class, followed by a meal with some friends from a drama group. They wanted her to act in their new play but she could not see where she would find the time. She cringed as she paid her part of the meal, and checked her emails when she got home.
“Londonnights” had emailed her back. They were happy to take her on but wanted a quick interview in person. She sighed. She did not want to send in any more photos but understood they needed to know she was for real. The appointment was at a hotel lobby on Bond Street. Angela checked that they would not want her to get naked but the meeting would be in public.
Angela was due to meet Peter, her surgeon date, afterward. She had suggested Bond Street for a date and figured it would be convenient to have a get-out from the escort interview. Peter would meet her at a cocktail bar at 7.30 and the interview was a few hundred meters away, in the upmarket hotel, at 7.00.
Angela was dressed smartly but still conservatively in a pencil skirt, shirt, and jacket, with low heels and moderate makeup. She had originally planned to go garish with makeup, to get in the mood as a hooker but also to disguise herself as much as possible, but realized that Peter would be surprised at this departure from her norm.
Angela arrived early, and as directed went to a sofa at the corner of the bar where a middle-aged woman in a business suit sat. She smiled – “Sara?” she asked. Angela smiled and nodded in recognition of the fake name she had given. “I am Fatima, would you like a drink?”
“Just a coke please” smiled Angela, or “Sara” and Fatima waved at a waiter, ordering a glass of wine for herself, and a coke for Angela.
Fatima looked admiringly at Angela. She could tell Angela was inexperienced but also recognized sheer confidence and knew her clients would love the classy beautiful young woman in front of her, regardless of her lack of sexual experience. The two chatted and Fatima, a middle-aged Turkish woman with plenty of escort experience, explained the rules and reassured her as to anonymity.
“Just give me your bank details, and I will pay you. The clients pay me, so you don’t have to deal with them directly. You just show up, do your two hours, or longer if they want a date, and be nice. Trust me, they will love you!” Fatima smiled at her.
Angela felt reassured. The money sounded fantastic. The thought of earning a thousand pounds for a single night’s work made her giddy.
After the meeting, Angela handed over her bank details, and her phone number and told Fatima she looked forward to her first “date”. She then hurried to her next appointment, with Peter. Suddenly turned on by the thought of what she would do, she became much more interested in Peter. Peter could not believe his luck, and after a few cocktails, he and Angela began passionately kissing. He took her home to his apartment in Chelsea and they made passionate love. The next morning, Angela woke up, kissed him, and left early, ready to go home first to change and then on to school. Her housemate teased her about Peter but was also happy for her that her relationship was getting serious. Peter was a great catch and a great guy.

Chapter 4
Edward Pembroke had always been passionate about technology. Despite a childhood marked by isolation and bullying due to his nerdy interests in computers, he found immense success as a software engineer. Mastering multiple programming languages for sheer enjoyment, his current employer, a bank, relied heavily on his expertise, granting him almost anything he desired. His salary exceeded half a million pounds annually, supplemented by generous bonuses. However, there was one aspect of his life that his wealth couldn’t resolve: his overbearing mother.

For over a decade, Edward had been the primary caregiver for his bedridden mother since his father’s passing. Despite his financial independence, he felt emotionally tethered to her. Her constant nagging and guilt-tripping made it impossible for him to break free. As a result, he couldn’t enjoy the fruits of his success, feeling as though he had missed out on life’s experiences.

Edward’s passion for technology extended beyond his professional life. He spent his free time building robots and often voluntarily improved the bank’s systems, much to the gratitude of his employers.

“Edward!!!” his mother’s shrill voice shattered the silence. “I need you again. I must use the toilet!” Edward sighed heavily, feeling a mixture of frustration and resentment. He longed for the strength to assert himself and break free from his mother’s grasp, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
A few minutes later, trying to blot out the memory of helping his naked mother in the bathroom, he turned to his online hobbies. He had ordered high-resolution secret cameras and was researching where to place them. It was early spring, and he had recently developed two pin cameras, one in his shoe facing upwards, and another in his tie knot. With these, he had spent an hour on the London tube, upskirting various girls and recording their faces to match them with the upskirt footage. Afterwards, he meshed the videos together, trying to match the upskirt shoe videos with the head height tie videos, to match girls’ faces to their exposed knickers. He uploaded these to a favoured voyeur site. He did wish there was some way to identify the girls further, as although he was thrilled to see their underwear, he wished for a more total humiliation.
He particularly enjoyed his Google “Arteca” glasses. Extremely expensive, they were a large pair of glasses, which acted as high-resolution cameras which could capture videos or cameras. He marvelled at the quality afterwards. He never wore them in front of people he knew, as eventually he thought people might find it strange he wore such clunky glasses. He liked to wear them walking in parks and afterwards admired the beautiful women he had seen earlier. He had found them a good replacement for his tie cameras.
He smiled at the comments and likes his uploaded voyeur videos had gotten. On the forum, he read information about hiding cameras in hotel rooms and wondered how to progress with this. He also checked out Pinkmeth and saw the progress with Julia Meadows.
Ms Meadows had deleted all her social media profiles. A few comments boasted about the emails and messages they had sent to her employers and family. One comment was from a friend of Julia’s. “Julia is a wonderful human being. In a moment of weakness, she allowed her scumbag ex-boyfriend to take these photos. She did not consent to have them on the net. Please can you take them down? Her mental health is really suffering, she does not deserve this. If any of you met her, you would love her, she would do anything to help someone in need. Please think of her as a real human being when you spread these photos and please delete this.”
Reading it, Pembroke grew hard. He did not consider himself to be evil, but there was something animistic in his urge to humiliate this young American woman he had never met. He checked the photos on the websites he had uploaded. He noticed the view counts and read the comments. He was delighted to see that she had been recognised. “This is Julia Meadows, her photos were liked and now she is mad lol, never thought I would see her asshole, she is so hot.”
Pembroke masturbated furiously. Julia Meadows had no chance of taking her profile down. Even if she did, he and hundreds of thousands of other like-minded men would make it their mission to spread her images far and wide, every so often. Knowing how much it hurt her only turned them on more.
He only wished he could witness the humiliation. He wanted to see it. Every day he saw beautiful young girls and women, in the spring of their lives, happy, laughing, and living their best lives. In their short skirts, their light tops, their soft skin, pink lips and hot figures. He wanted to fuck each and every one of them but would never have the chance outside of prostitution. Their happiness whilst in possession of everything he wanted offended him.
Pembroke decided he needed to have sex with a real live woman, it had been too long. He also figured he could try out his surveillance equipment and kill two birds with one stone.
He was swimming in money. He looked up an escort agency “Londonnights” and checked various profiles of escorts. Some of the women showed their faces, but most did not. All were beautiful. He did not fancy a blind date and nearly booked “Yasmin” a beautiful Russian blonde, whose face and blue eyes captivated him. But on second thoughts, he felt that her showing her face just proved she was a real whore. He thought about the more chaste and bashful girls who obviously did not want their faces shown. The agency surely only had the best girls so there was no risk of an ugly girl.
After a few minutes, he clicked on “Sara” a “Latin intellectual beauty” after admiring her busty physique and tanned legs and decided to trust the tastes of the agency. After some enquiries, he booked a day hotel room near Liverpool Street for a few hours on a Wednesday evening after work and paid two thousand pounds for the privilege through an anonymous banking app he was able to manipulate through his work. The payment would just show up as coming from “Guido van Rossum” a famous coder whom he was sure no hooker would have heard of. He booked the room itself under an equally false name and an anonymous payment account and gave the address for the girl to meet him at.

Chapter 5

Angela completed yet another fulfilling day of teaching, effortlessly showcasing her natural talent for the profession. Her headmaster often hinted at her potential to advance within the school, possibly even managing it in a few years. However, Angela’s colleagues and friends couldn’t help but feel that she was destined for something greater, like a bird too beautiful for the confines of its cage.
At twenty-three years old, she possessed a rare combination of intelligence, beauty, and charisma. Her peers speculated about her future, wondering if she would become the esteemed wife of a famous individual, embark on a successful career as a diplomat or politician, or even carve her path as an entrepreneur.
Despite her demanding job, Angela managed to carve out time for personal growth and exploration. Before her evening dance class, she squeezed in an hour of dedicated study, showcasing her commitment to self-improvement. Angela thrived on a balanced lifestyle, exemplified by her dedication to both hard work and leisure.

In her urban dance class, Angela unleashed her energy, sweating it out alongside her peers. She relished the camaraderie and laughter shared with the other dancers, but when they extended invitations for drinks afterward, Angela politely declined. Instead, she prioritized her studies, recognizing the importance of maintaining focus and discipline in pursuit of her goals.

As the evening drew to a close, Angela returned home for more study sessions, determined to excel in every aspect of her life. Her unwavering dedication and determination set her apart, laying the groundwork for a future filled with promise and potential.
After studying she sent some texts to Peter, who was desperate to see her again, and emailed Daniel who was excited to visit his favourite cousin in London. She then checked the email from Fatima, with bated breath.
She had a booking. At a hotel room in Liverpool Street. Tomorrow evening.
Her stomach convulsed with nerves. She would have no way of knowing who this man was. She thought of everything that could go wrong. It seemed a respectable location and apparently, the clients were vetted carefully.
She thought about what to wear. She prided herself on her appearance and ahead of her last date with Peter, she had already waxed her body hair. She touched herself as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She bunched up her breasts and admired herself. She had always been told she was beautiful and could not help but agree. She picked out the sluttiest underwear she could find, a red thong, and red bra, and packed it for tomorrow.
The following day at school, Angela taught her pupils but was continually distracted by what she was going to do after school. She felt nervous yet excited. At the evening bell, she headed out of the school and to a local gym she rarely used, where she took a quick shower and changed into her red lingerie underneath her sensible teacher’s outfit of black pencil skirt, white shirt black bow, and black jacket. She put on her largest heels and strode towards the local tube station trying to calm the knot of nerves in her stomach.
Unknown to her, Edward Pembroke had booked the hotel room hours earlier than he claimed. He had taken a half day off work and had spent the afternoon carefully wiring the hotel room with three hidden cameras. The cameras were adaptable and could be easily disguised. He had brought some plastic hooks to attach to the walls just for the sake of looking permanent and holding hidden cameras. Another such camera was attached to the television facing the bed. Another was on the wall of the bathroom adjoining the hotel room. Pembroke also fully charged his glasses, and at his last count, realised he would be able to enjoy six different angles of the action in the hotel room.
Pembroke was far from attractive, but shaved all his body hair and cleaned himself carefully. His protruding belly spoke of too many takeaways while sat in front of a computer. His crooked teeth, bald head, and underbite betrayed the geeky lack of self-confidence he always had, but they also made the large glasses less conspicuous.

Chapter 6
Angela downed several shots of spirits from a hip flask for some Dutch courage before entering the hotel. She messaged Fatima who told her she would meet “Alan” in the lobby of a smart hotel next to the less prestigious hotel he had booked. The smart hotel did not take kindly to outright sex work but would not object to “dates” in their lobby.
Angela closed her eyes. She thought of Daniel, thought of the money, thought of how normal this kind of work was for so many girls. She thought of how big a city London was and told herself to just enjoy herself as a beautiful sexual young woman.

Angela tried to exude confidence as she entered the hotel lobby, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. The sparse surroundings offered a sense of privacy, adding to the anticipation of the meeting. Following instructions, she settled at a table near the piano, surveying her surroundings with a nervous eye behind the façade of control.

Her attention was drawn to a figure across the room—a bald, plump man clad in an expensive suit that failed to conceal his insecurities. Despite his outward appearance of wealth, he seemed meek and nervous, struggling to maintain eye contact as Angela locked eyes on him. Edward Pembroke looked at her then turned away, before glancing back again.
Angela offered him a warm smile, sensing that he was the man she was here to meet. Edward Pembroke couldn’t help but respond to her genuine warmth, captivated by her beauty and the maternal aura she exuded despite her youth. Angela’s eyes brightened and her cheeks creased as her smile widened. She waved and gave a look to the empty chair in front of her. Pembroke took a deep breath and walked towards her.
“Hello Alan, I am Sara, I’m your date, I think?” She giggled at him and stood up as he approached. Her
demeanor put Pembroke at ease, and he finally smiled, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and held out his hand.
“Hi, yes I am .. Alan…” he stuttered. This “Sara” was one of the most beautiful women he had ever set eyes on. He found it hard to imagine she was anything but genuine, she sounded like a teacher greeting a little lost child. In her heels, she was taller than him, and he could not help staring into her coal-black pools of eyes and forgot to say anything else.
“Well this is a fun place” giggled ‘Sara’ “you have good taste.” She remembered Fatima’s guidance. “Now, I think you should get both of us a drink before anyone says anything.”
Pembroke stuttered and started to walk towards the bar. “No don’t worry” Aangela touched his wrist. “Relax, someone will take our order. Le’s just sit down first.” She sat down and Pembroke followed. He had done this many times, but this was the first time he planned to secretly record the encounter, which was, he realised, illegal. She was also the most beautiful girl he had met so far and did not give off the whoreish vibes of the girls he had met previously.
A waiter approached, and Pembroke ordered two glasses of prosecco. Angela remained impassive and smiling. She noted he seemed very nervous and was not very good-looking. She felt a little sorry for him. She was a little relieved he was so nervous and harmless, she had thought she would meet a wealthy pig or coke-fuelled banker who would want disgusting things or rape her. She felt she could control this ‘Alan’ and give him a good time. She crossed her legs and felt the heat in her pussy in anticipation of playing with herself in front of him.
“So Alan, what do you do?” she asked. She reasoned that he probably could not murder her now, there would be too many witnesses.
“I work as a banker…” mumbled Pembroke. “I mean, in finance, it’s OK, a bit boring… I do this for fun you know…”
Angela could not see his eyes very well behind his odd glasses. She wondered if he had a sight defect. She had never heard of glasses that could record videos so did not suspect anything. Pembroke had not yet turned them. The cameras in the hotel room were primed and would turn on when detecting motion so would come on as soon as they entered the hotel room next door.
“I am a tourist myself” lied Angela “I like to travel and meet people.”She wondered how to turn the conversation sexual. She was aware they were an odd-looking couple. She feared someone might see her and suspect something even though London was so big. “Don’t be paranoid” she told herself “just enjoy yourself”.
Pembroke fidgeted. He just wanted to go to the hotel room and prayed the drinks would soon arrive.
After a tortuous minute, a waiter brought both glasses over. Angela giggled and smiled at him and toasted him. She surprised herself at how easy this was so far, he was so intimidated she felt fully in control. She downed her drink, and so did Pembroke. “Shall we go?” giggled Angela.
Pembroke nodded, got up, and went to pay at the bar. Angela walked out of the exit to wait. She felt the eyes of several men on her. The curse of being so beautiful was that she would always be noticed. The jealous city boys whispered to each other that she was likely an escort. This was painfully confirmed when Pembroke ambled out and they walked alongside each other. The city boys smirked at the incongruous couple but also jealous, knowing they could not afford a woman like that.
They walked past the receptionist, a young woman who immediately understood the situation. Angela tried to remain composed and told herself this would be the last person other than the client who would witness this encounter. They did not talk until they got into the hotel room.
Inside, there was a bottle of wine, some glasses, condoms, and a fully set hotel room. Angela took a breath and then said “OK, why don’t you take your clothes off and let me get ready.”
Pembroke surreptitiously clicked his glasses on. “Sara” in front of her was still distractingly gorgeous. He saw her take a look around the room and felt reassured that she did not seem remotely suspicious and would not guess that currently, six different cameras were recording her for posterity from different angles. He kept his eyes on her, not just to enjoy her, but to maintain the recording of her, as she disrobed.
Her smile remained as she unbuttoned her shirt, peeled off her bow, and revealed her toned abs and pert breasts cupped in a lacy red bra. Her arms and torso were toned and did not show any fat other than the peachy globes bursting to get out of the wiring.
She placed her hands behind her back, unzipped her skirt, and let it fall to her ankles. Stepping out, her long legs shimmered with the last rays of sunlight coming through the curtains and between her legs. Her red panties clung to her crotch and Pembroke gazed hungrily up and down, from her slim ankles, up her luscious legs and toned thighs, to her graceful throat and perfectly chiseled face. Her welcoming cheerful smile enabled him to meet her gaze, he could not remember the last time he had been able to stare into someone else’s eyes in a long time.
“Do you like it?” she giggled, turning around and placing the palms of her hand on each buttock.
“Yes, you are gorgeous!” Pembroke was not minded to talk much and also did not want his voice to appear much on any video. If this footage was going to go online, he would have to make sure his own identity was completely concealed.
Pembroke was lying on his back with his head propped up on the pillow, completely naked. He had not yet touched his own penis, but it was firmly erect. Aangela looked at the hairless body and saw that his cock was not uninviting. It was average size, and clean, and she thought to take it into her mouth but waited for an instruction.
“Can you…” Pembroke licked his lips, his mouth was dry “take your bra off, and … play with yourself.. while still in your knickers standing there?” In his mind, he was imagining the view from the camera angles. One such view would be straight into her eyes from his glasses as she looked at him.
Angela liked the idea, she unhooked her bra solely, tossed it to the ground, licked her fingers, and dipped them beneath the waistband of her panties. The gusset was already wet, and she sighed as her fingers rubbed her pussy lips, one digging into the hole and the other rubbing the clit. Her other hand tweaked her nipples. Part acting, part real, she began to moan and bite her lips and smiled at Pembroke, who was tentatively gripping his own rock-hard cock.
Pembroke wanted to hear her speak but did not want the to and fro of conversation to be recorded, specifically, his own voice. “Tell me about what you want to do to me…” he said to her…
“I am going to ride you darling… when I finish touching myself, I will ride that cock of yours, and make you cum all over me….” Angela was part tipsy, part horny, and part overcompensating for the nerves. She suddenly started to giggle. She whipped her panties off, still keeping her smiling face on Pembrokes, and clambered over him. Her eyes never left him as she took his cock in her hand, and then began licking it while stroking his balls. She started sucking harder, her other hand returning to her pussy to rub herself.
Angela did not mind Pembroke’s smell and began to think she could get used to this. She felt more like a performer than having anything done to her, he was so passive.
Eventually, she pulled her head up rubbed her erect nipples over his upper body, and drew her face close to Pembroke’s. After breathing into his face, she kissed him on the lips.
Pembroke was shocked, he had not been kissed like this in years. Her breath was so sweet, her lips tasted so good. His hands wandered all over her body. He felt the dimples on her lower back, the tautness of her thighs and buttocks and the soft fleshiness of her breasts.
“Let’s take these off…” she smiled and tried to grab his glasses.
“No…. er… sorry they help me… it is the light you see, not just my sight, I need to keep them on…” he panicked thinking she might notice the buttons on the glasses.
“OK, ha suit yourself. I never saw these type of glasses before” she smiled.
She got up and poured herself more wine. Pembroke also took a glass. He did not want to get any drunker. Not only did he want to stay in control of the recording, but he also wanted to continue what was turning into the best few hours of his life.
He ate out her pussy for half an hour. Angela lay back and came several times, and did not complain when he slipped a finger, and then his tongue, into her asshole as well.
“Can I .. err… lick your feet?” he asked nervously, he still could not believe his luck.
Angela giggled though then had to bite into a pillow to stifle her screams as his tongue lapped at her insteps. This was something she had never experienced before. She laughed and rode Pembroke cowgirl and reverse cowgirl style.
Pembroke did not dare to suggest anal, and in any event, did not want to ruin the encounter. As he put on his fourth condom for doggy style, he could not stop smiling as he looked at this beautiful girl, on all fours, her buttocks spread wide displaying her pussy and asshole to the world and his glasses, as well as several cameras, while she turned her head around, to check he was putting the condom on properly, but unknowingly ensuring she would be forever captured on screen in the most humiliating fashion.
After some time, Angela asked to use the bathroom. She needed to pee and wondered if she should even close the door. She felt so liberated, and in the back of her mind still worried he could go through her things. Habit won, she closed the door and sat and peed.
Pembroke listened to the stream of piss hitting the toilet bowl. How long did he have? He made to go to the bottle of wine, and as he did, he saw her open handbag. He quickly threw his hand in and took out a long cord leading to a card. He saw a card, and took a quick look at “Centram Sports”
The sound of the stream of piss started to fade, Pembroke quickly threw the card back into the handbag, grabbed the bottle, and poured a glass. The door of the bathroom came open and the naked woman bounded back in.
“I think I want to make you cum one last time” she smiled. The date had been for three hours. Including the hotel lobby drinks they were well over this but she did not feel like being stringent and thought of this as a tip.
“Thank you” giggled Pembroke as he supped his drink. “Let me go for a piss though as well…” and he disappeared through the door.
Angela reclined on the bed. She looked around and suddenly wondered what she was doing. She regretted telling him he would make him cum one last time. Suddenly she was growing tired. She looked at her handbag. She could not be sure, but it seemed slightly disturbed. She had not brought any ID with her, but even so, she was getting drunk and should still be careful.
Listening to the sound of piss hitting the toilet bowl also brought home to her the full extent of what she was doing. When Pembroke returned through the door, she now found it hard to smile back at him. There was something creepy about him, now that his nervousness had faded. His glasses made him look very weird.
She realised hiscock would not stink of piss. Fuck it, she thought. Let’s do this and get out of here. “Lie down” she commanded.
She did not take his cock in her mouth again, instead, she jerked him off with her hand, she backed onto him so her pussy and ass hovered over his face.
“Why don’t you take off your glasses now” she asked.
Pembroke figured he had enough material. He wanted to really enjoy her pussy with no more encumbrance. He took the glasses off, placed them on the bedside table, and lay back as he watched Angela’s divine backside lower herself onto his waiting mouth, her asshole positioned centimeters from his eyes as he drank in her pussy still wet from sex and piss.
Angela tugged furiously until finally, Pembroke came one last time. This time, she did not gobble up the remaining semen. She leaned back and forcefully sat on his face, her ass now covering all his view, while she took another look around the room at her handbag and his glasses on the table.
“Hmmmm” Pembroke suddenly gripped her thighs. He was struggling to breathe. Angela was trying to think straight and almost fell off the bed.
“Sorry, I thought you would suffocate me” replied Pembroke.
“That’s OK,” replied Angela, she got herself off the bed and stood awkwardly. Something was not right. She suddenly wanted to leave as soon as possible, she did not feel right. Was it all the alcohol?
“I guess we are finished?” said Pembroke. He grabbed the glasses and put them back on. He sensed unease in Angela, and while even after cumming for the fourth time he still could admire her taut naked body, he sensed it would be good if she just left now.
“Yes, that is time, I’m afraid” Angela laughed. She turned and went to gather her things.
“Why don’t you leave first?” Pembroke had the room booked for hours more, unknown to Angela, but he really wanted her out. He needed to get the cameras stopped and taken out and suddenly grew self-conscious about his glasses. “But….” He could not help himself “Can I… can I keep those red knickers, please? I can pay extra… cash…”
Angela suddenly laughed. This was ridiculous. “How much? A hundred pounds?”
“Yes” beamed Pembroke.
Angela suddenly regretted not asking for more. “Actually these cost me fifty pounds with the bra,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“OK, a hundred and fifty!”
Angela laughed again. “OK,” she fished her knickers from the ground and threw them at him. He was a weird man. This whole thing was just weird. Her urge to investigate had suddenly changed to an urge to get away from him as soon as possible. She pulled on the pencil skirt, how with nothing on underneath. She pulled on her bra…
“Err… the bra too please…” asked Pembroke.
“OK…” Angela said, this time not laughing. She had a white blouse but the black jacket covered her nipples just as they covered her red bra earlier. She wondered what more weird requests would come. A lock of her hair? She gathered her things and looked under the bed and could not find any belongings.
“OK, well…. I guess I’m off…” Angela thought about how to say goodbye. Would she want to do this again? With him?
“OK..well thank you so much” Pembroke smiled at her. He looked ridiculous holding out one hundred and fifty pounds in cash, naked, in nothing but high-tech glasses.
Angela took the money and took one last look at Pembroke. He was not shy now, nor nervous. He looked very different from the clothed nervous geek she had met in the lobby hours earlier. His cock was growing hard… again. Well, she had done enough…
“Well, Alan, it was nice meeting you!” She air-kissed him and walked out the door. She marched down the hallways and passed the same girl on the way out. She tried to avoid her eyes. She walked out into the darkness and felt the cold air up her skirt and into her bare wet pussy.
She stopped at a bar near the tube station on Liverpool Street. She had plenty of cash on her in addition to the thousand pounds she would soon see in her bank account. She ordered a double vodka and martini and gulped it down.
She suddenly felt men’s eyes on her. She felt sticky all over, sweat, cum, piss, saliva, Pembroke’s hands had touched every inch of her. She suddenly smelt his aroma on her.
One guy approached her, she clutched her jacket together across her chest, not wanting to show her braless chest through the fabric. “Hi love, what’s a nice girl doing here? I want to spend my bonus on you” a young blonde man in a suit brayed at her. Angela suddenly felt disgusted. She was not used to being approached like this. Then again she was rarely on her own in bars, she was usually on a date, or with good friends celebrating.
Angela saw another side to life in the leering eyes of the oaf leering at her. She gulped down her drink and left. The man tried to follow her, and grabbed her ass “Don’t walk away from me yet love..”
“Fuck off” shouted Angela as she turned around her jacket came open, and the man had a good look at her rock-hard nipples against the spring cold. “Fuck you, you whore” he shouted and went back to his friends.
She suddenly felt very drunk. She grabbed a McDonalds, trying to avoid the eyes of what she believed was everyone in the packed interior, then munched on a Big Mac while scurrying to the tube. She went straight home and tried to sneak into her room without arousing her flatmates.
Teresa, her Russian flatmate, saw her and was surprised to see her worse for wear. She had never seen her drunk before. “Hi Teresa, sorry, had a date with Peter, we had a bit of an argument haha” muttered Angela. “Oh tell me,” said Teresa, she was genuinely concerned, though secretly she would love to have Peter to herself, and wondered if she could turn this to her advantage.
“Oh, it’s nothing… I’m sure we will work it out… sorry I just need some time in my room… sorry…” she grabbed a glass of water and went into her room.
That night, she scrubbed herself clean in the shower for half an hour, and lay in bed, unable to sleep. She just thought about Pembroke, that weird man in his robot glasses. She got a text from Fatima. She was able to check her bank account and saw that the money had gone into her account.
“Thanks for everything, Fatima. I got the money. I am afraid I did not enjoy this evening, I don’t think I am cut out for this. I think I need a break but thank you.”
Fatima was disappointed but understood. The girl was just too good-hearted to make it as a hooker she smiled to herself.

Chapter 7
Pembroke quickly got dressed. He turned his glasses off, put them in his case, and put his proper glasses back on. He felt much less self-conscious now. She quickly took down all the cameras. He feared what would happen if the girl thought of returning to the room or if anyone else would come in, in her absence, to confront him or to rob him. He made sure he had every single camera accounted for, took all his things, into a backpack, and marched out of the room. Outside in the air, he relaxed and went out to a bar. He had a quiet drink to himself, eyeing up some lovely young things in the corner while thinking back to his encounter with the beautiful Sara.
He carefully took her knickers out of his bag, and sniffed them, making sure no one in the packed pub had noticed. He would love to try and see her again, he thought. The money had been worth it. This has been one of the best nights of his life.
He got home very late. His mother awoke and shouted at him. He helped her to the bathroom, then went to bed, sniffing the girl’s knickers again, and smelling her perfume on him. “You’ve been with a prostitute haven’t you!” shouted his mother, having smelled him. He didn’t care, he did not want to lose her scent, not yet. “Can’t get yourself a girlfriend, can you? You pathetic boy!” He ignored her and drifted off to sleep.
Over the next few weeks, Edward Pembroke worked during the day and edited the footage of his meeting with Angela at night. He had, combined, eighteen hours of footage. He had his own version with him in it. He marvelled at the sight of her kissing him, her implausibly beautiful body, and her enthusiasm in kissing him.
He contacted the escort agency and asked to see her again. But he was told she was no longer working and had no contact details. He did not find any clues from what he had seen in her handbag as to who she was. Maybe she was just a tourist. An angel who had visited him once and that was it.
Meanwhile, Angela took some time to recover. She struggled to teach the next day, hungover. She also discovered some love bites on her buttocks and so had to postpone her meetings with Peter. She grew more and more disappointed in herself and felt she had changed. There was something in her that had died, some spirit of optimism. She looked at men a different way. She could not explain it, but men seemed to stare at her in a way they had not before. She had always got attention, but it was like they now saw her more sexually. She found it more difficult to smile and when she did, she was disturbed by the glances she got back.
She threw herself into her work and studies. It was a week after seeing Pembroke that she saw Peter again. The sex was wild, and afterward, she felt partly cleansed.
The money, on the other hand, had been a boon. Daniel arrived in London and they had a great time together. After he had left, she told herself that she could make it without any more escort work. She did not need much money anyway.
The summer came, and exams came and went. Angela went back to Spain to see her family and wondered about her next moves. Her masters would finish next year and then she could apply to be a full-time academic in education or she could take up a lucrative job offer in finance. She was also interested in posts at the UN.
Her pupils’ exam results came out and were excellent. Despite being in a deprived area, the results attracted nationwide attention. The Guardian newspaper and the Daily Mail both wrote stories about the school.
The school management was in no doubt as to who would be best to the best figurehead for the school. Angela was requested to meet the journalists. As a beautiful young woman, she got full attention and centre spread as pupils parents, and staff praised her.
Angela was delighted. This would help her application to the UN no end. Other outlets approached her for her to write for them on education. Suddenly the world was opening up for her. No one was surprised, the beautiful talented, and industrious Angela Candelema was always going to be someone.
Unfortunately for her, Edward Pembroke read the papers himself. He at first did not recognise her when he saw the story of her school in the Evening Standard. It was only later the same evening when he saw her again in the Daily Mail that he recognised the sweet pearly smile and shining eyes under the wavy hair.
Pembroke could not believe it. His prostitute was a talented, famous, educator. Only twenty-three! Without knowing who she was, he had not shared the footage of her. He had several versions. He had a lot of perfect stills, showing her fully nude, including her face and genitalia all in one picture. He had a well-edited two-hour movie with his face completely blocked out, with six different camera angles.
He withheld from sharing it. She had been kind and loving. But also, he wondered whether he could leverage it against her. Would she really be amenable to blackmail? How risky would that be?
He checked back on the Pinkmeth site. He was pleased to see it was still going. Six new girls this week, six new lives ruined and changed forever!
Every once in a while Pembroke liked to go through the back catalog of girls. He checked on girl, Sarah Goetz, whose details had been uploaded eighteen months earlier. It amazed him that in eighteen months, the desperate girl had obviously not been able to get her details off the site or cleanse herself from the internet.
She had made some attempts. There had been angry comments from friends demanding she be taken off, and some pleading ones. On Google, the first results of her name search had brought up her naked photos. Now, they brought up unrelated entries relating to her, in an attempt to drown out the noise.
Pembroke had her details saved on his computer and uploaded some more copies of her photos and videos. He also tried to find out where she was now and managed to trace her to a company in Tampa Florida. He marvelled that she had moved from Milwaukee since first being exposed.
One thing the Pinkmeth community prided themselves on was keeping tabs on girls. They liked to bast that once exposed the girls could never hide. They would be remembered by an online tribe they would never meet who would search for them in two, or four years, and expose them all over again, for no gain other than their own perverted pleasure in her misery. Some girls had even changed names but been tracked by the group and the members had emailed their new friends and co-workers about their existing footage. It turned the community on to know that once exposed, every girl would know this would stay with them forever and that their grandchildren would see the footage.
Despite having a perfect victim at his fingertips, Pembroke held off. The passage of time would prevent the trail leading back to him. He had not booked the girl he now knew as Angela in his own name or with a traceable account, nor the hotel room. He had paid for her knickers and the hotel lobby drinks in cash.
Uploading the footage without her consent would not be a crime, though the secret recording was. But how could Angela track him down? He was a private man, he had no social media, and though had a vital well paid job he was not on any business websites. He would look different without his tech glasses. He lived far from her school. Perhaps he should wait until she left the country?
In the meantime, Pembroke tracked her down and saw her a few times. He followed her on a bus, at a school hockey match, and even out with drinks with friends. In disguise, he even got close enough behind her to film up her skirt, then film the rest of her, and added it to his collage of her.
Angela continued to teach but was confident by the end of the year she would be working in international education with the UN. Not bad. Her boyfriend Peter was crazy about her though she wondered whether she should settle down so early.
Pembroke gathered every last bit of personal information on her as he could. He got contact details for her extended family, her community back in Barcelona, her old school, and her old school pupils. He recorded every LinkedIn connection, every Facebook friend, the parents of the school, and several school pupils’ information. He also recorded information and contact details for all her extra curricular activities as well as numerous UN staff. He noted she would soon be working there from her social media posts.

Chapter 8
Pembroke continued to prevaricate. He mentioned on the Pinkmeth forum that he had great footage on a gorgeous girl but was afraid to post it, and others urged him on. He received tips on how to make sure footage was untraceable. Some over excited Pinkmeth users had unfortunately uploaded screenshots which actually were traceable to the IPs where they had taken them, for example.
What pushed him over the edge, was a night out in December, some eight months after he had met Angela. It was Christmas party season and he had spent the evening drinking. He had long since found out where Angela lived, and made his way there. There was a pub nearby, and he sat in it while wondering what to do. He had nothing going on in his life. Aimlessly stalking a beautiful young woman was not, for him, a waste of time.
In the pub were a gaggle of young girls in ridiculously short skirts. Pembroke almost absent mindedly began to turn his camera on in his shoe. He had done it so often, he was complacent, and had been drinking.
He stood behind the girls at the bar, and stuck his foot under their legs. He meanwhile started lecherously sly at their asses.
“What the fuck are you looking at you old pervert!” One girl shouted at him. “Not…nothing…. “ said Pembroke. He was panicking. Staring at their asses was legal. Filming them was not. He did not want them to see the camera in his shoe.
“You just here by yourself looking at young girls… got a fucking paedo here!” shouted a girl.
Suddenly the bar went quiet. Pembroke stuttered… “I wasn’t doing anything!” He suddenly thought of his phone. It had plenty of incriminating videos of upskirts of girls knickers taken that very evening.
One girl suddenly threw a pint of beer all over him. “Get the fuck away from us you creep” This saved him; it gave him an excuse to get away. He had copious evidence on him that could put him in prison let alone what a review of his hard drive would do.
“I’ve been assaulted!” he cried. Meanwhile he made his way outside. He scurried away out of the pub. He was soaked in beer. He quickly bent down and disabled his shoe camera. He then marched off to the tube station. “Let’s get home and out of here!” he thought.
Suddenly, he noticed another group of girls walking towards him. He saw them look at him in disgust. He must have looked a sight, soaking wet shirt and coat, drunk, and looking very suspicious all by himself. They girls looked like supermodels, and on the right of them was none other than Angela Candelema.
Pembroke had no time to brace himself. As soon as he saw Angela, he clocked eyes on her, and she on him. Angela had just been celebrating. She had been offered the UN job. She felt elevated and so happy. She had spent the early evening in the company of so many distinguished people and felt a bit grubby having to go back to east London through so many drunken people.
Suddenly she recognised “Alan” the client she had slept with. Deep within her, a wave of revulsion, and a deep feminine sense of intuition hit her. This man was danger. The fact he was here now, was not coincidence. She did not want to say anything in front of her flatmates however. But her stare into Pembroke’s eyes confirmed to him something. She hated him. She hated that she had slept with him. It was a look of fear, disgust and regret. A wish that he would just disappear from her memory and be scrubbed from her life.
“Euuugh” what a disgusting creep, he heard one of the girls say and heard them all giggling. He looked around and caught another glimpse of Angela staring back at him. The look he remembered, of feminine maternal kindness, was gone. Instead, her face was screwed up, and he felt fear that she would do something to him.
He paced away. So she was just like other women, he laughed to himself. Oh well… He got the train back to his house and listened to his mother bleat on for an hour about her health and how terrible a he was as a son.
He poured himself more whiskey, and rather than stand up to his mother, he shut himself in his room. He gathered all the best stills of Angela, of her naked, playing with herself, her pussy, asshole tits all exposed, her face smiling, and put them in one folder. In the other he put three different MPs. One was a one minute video of her sucking his cock from one angle. Another was of her playing with herself, from three different angles, for two minutes. Then the other was an hour and a half long edition. He had others he intended to touch u and use later. Another folder held all her contact information and all relevant others, the UN, school, Spain, friends family social media etc. He went onto the dark web, paused for a second, and emailed everything with a message written out requesting for her profile to be put online.
He went on the forum, and posted about how he was finally going to put “his girl” on. He got some congratulations from online buddies, then drank more while watching more porn and listening to music before passing out.

Chapter 9
Angela woke up the next morning energetic. She had not drunk much, and was elated about the UN job. She had an appointment however, she needed to help out at the Saturday school hockey match. She remembered meeting her client from months ago. That was weird, she thought, and was glad she had not done more escorting. It was not worth the money, though it had helped. If she had bumped into him here then London was not such a big place as she thought. Unless it was not a coincidence she had met him right outside her flat? But why was he drunk and looking like he had just been in a fight? He did not seem the type.
Anyway, he was a sad little man, she should not feel sorry for him. He was obviously loaded with money. But she still regretted meeting him for sex, as she had lost the innocent vitality she once had. It was undeniable but then she was now twenty four, maybe it was just a marker of adulthood, of growing up.
Angela arrived at the team meeting. She gave a cheery pep talk to the girls, and had everyone geed up. The match progressed in the freezing December hail and after being down at half time, her team came back to win.
Meanwhile Edward Pembroke awoke with a throbbing hangover. His first port of call was to help his mother. She castigated him for getting drunk and being useless. Another depressing Christmas ahead he thought. Eventually, after breakfast, and errands, he thought of Angela. He had no idea how long it took for girls to be posted. Nobody on Pinkmeth knew each other and nobody knew the identity of who ran the site. There was a vetting process. No underage girls, and no obvious porn stars. All girls had to be reluctantly uploaded against their will. He checked the times; it had been 1am when he had sent Angela’s details across. She had so much personal details to be contacted about, that it would likely take a while to format all of it in a “user friendly” way. He checked Angela’s Facebook and her LinkedIn. All still open. She was not yet on Pinkmeth.
The clock was now ticking. He had a sudden urge to try and see where she was today so he could witness her downfall. He often fantasised about how the girls would react and of capturing it on film.
The hockey match ended and afterwards Angela went to a post match lunch with the girls and their parents. Everyone was happy and many of the parents came up to Angela to congratulate her. She was now well known as a popular successful teacher. A few girls even came up to her to ask her to stay. She felt guilty, she was so happy she could touch so many lives, and hated letting people down.
She did find it strange when one of the girls’ fathers approached her and stared. “So Angela” he smiled, “what do you get up to outside of work?” Angela was a little taken aback. It seemed flirtatious which seemed wrong in a school environment, where the man’s wife and child were present. His smiling look of lust made her think he was drunk, or that he knew something she didn’t.
After the match, Angela went to the gym for a workout. She then went back to her flat. For the rest of the day, she had some coffee planned with girlfriends, then a celebratory night at the opera with Peter.
Once out of the last tube station near her flat, and getting reception, she got a text message from her mother. “Darling, please call us when you get home.” She frowned. She hurried home; her battery was dying anyway, and wondered what it could be.
Edward Pembroke sat at home, checking and rechecking Pinkmeth. Suddenly, at approximately 1 O’clock, her profile came up. He was shocked to see it.”Angela Candelema” followed by ten naked photographs of her. On the left of the screen, three MPS of various sizes. Just pressing on one of them led it to download on the local machine of the user.
He clocked the views counted for her profile. Within minutes, there were several comments from different users.
“Hey what a stunning girl! Her Facebook is still open lol, welcome to the first day of the rest of your life Angela lol”
“Wow a teacher! I missed these. Gonna send these on to her school. Well done on the info. Makes it really easy to ruin her life.”
“Nice to see a well educated girl for once. Bitches don’t need jobs though. She wont be working at no UN anyway haha.”
“Just uploaded these videos to pornhub and xvideos. Stunning girl.”
“Seems this girl was a hooker? So was this a side gig? Looks like its gonna bite her in the ass now though lol”
“Angela you are FUCKED!!! We are gonna make sure everybody sees these. Well done on the hidden cameras. Once a whore always a whore. Say goodbye to your career, bitch.”
Pembroke’s cock jumped in his pants. She was on it! He felt so proud like this was his own accomplishment, like he had shared a special accomplishment and it was now being worshipped and admired by his peers.
He downloaded the MPS and watched the videos. They were in the same perfect quality. He was so glad the hotel room has such good lighting. The photos of Angela looked like model pictures, not stills from the video. Her clearly defined labia and asshole, darker against the white of her buttocks, glistened on his screen, you could see the sweat sheen on her back and he half turned head revealed her perfect smile and bright mischievous eyes.
He went through some links that other commenter had already left. She was now on pornhub, xvideos and other sites. There some Russian and Thai domain sites and Pembroke smiled as he knew these would be much more difficult for Angela to contact and get her content wiped from.
The more reputable sites would usually delete content within a few days, but they had no mechanism to stop the same video or photo to constantly re appear on their site. It was up to the girls to desperately scour porn websites to check for their videos and then report them. One thing that turned Pembroke on was imagining the poor girls sacrificing their time hunched over their laptop, desperately emailing porn websites, hunting through videos and constantly having their own naked selves facing them on the screen.
Angela Candelema’s name was somehow superimposed on some images he found on another site. Some users were like hobbyists and liked to add names to the images to make them more identifiable. Pembroke physically clapped his hands in appreciation for this anonymous helper.
He googled Angela’s name. He smiled ear to ear when he saw that links to pornhub now came up on page 1 already, within just an hour of posting. Google images had picture of her asshole, tits, and pussy alongside pictures of her graduation on LinkedIn and her Facebook profile and her school teacher profile. This was amazing!
It was now out of Pembroke’s hands, though he did upload one more hour and a half long video now that it was confirmed she was popular. He stroked his cock and wondered what his victim was doing right now. He opened her social media accounts and watched for any unusual activity…

Chapter 10
Angela got back to her flat and noticed Teresa, the Russian girl, on her new iPhone on the sofa. She suddenly hid the screen from view as Angela entered the room. Angela would normally have teased her about what she was hiding, but was preoccupied with her mother’s message and wanted to go straight to her room.
Teresa looked at Angela with a strange half smile. “How are you?” she asked. “I’m OK, sorry, I just need to call my parents, I can chat later though OK?” Angela walked straight into her room.
Teresa waited for the door to shut, then looked back to her phone. She had just been sent links from a strange Facebook profile, to various websites. The websites were porn sites, and the links led directly to a profile in the name of “Angela Candelema”. Teresa was astonished to see her friend’s naked body in various photos and videos of her having sex with a man in what seemed like a hotel room. The movies looked almost professional and Angela seemed to be staring directly into the camera a lot of the time, whilst sucking and licking a clean shaven cock and balls.
It was not Peter, her boyfriend; she saw enough in the video to recognise a middle aged, out of shape, male body when she saw it despite his face being carefully blurred out. She could not believe Angela had agreed to be filmed like this. She had seen Angela topless before but never as naked as this, and bit her lips as she watched, on the small iPhone screen, Angela sticking her fingers into her pussy, massaging her tits and licking her lips like a porn start while staring into the camera.
Wow! So little miss perfect was secretly a whore? Or doing porn? Why? And who was it who had leaked this? Teresa guessed that Angela had not consented to this being leaked. She would be horrified. She tried to guess when it was taken, there were no tan lines on Angela’s body, so it was likely before the summer. Her hair was also much longer here.
Teresa herself had done escort work. She had also been photographed naked and secretly dreaded them coming out. She resented the much cleverer Angela, with the perfect job, perfect personality and perfect boyfriend, who would never do such dirty things. But here she was now! In fact this seemed like a prostitute meeting. But why had she agreed to be filmed so blatantly?
Teresa admired Angela’s body and became hot and bothered at the humiliation she was going to endure. Surely she was not the only person this link had been sent to?
Angela charged her phone, then went on her laptop and called her mother in Barcelona. She also opened her Facebook, and was puzzled to see a buzz of notifications and new friend requests. She was receiving new messages, it seemed, by the minute.
Her called connected and her mother answered. “Angela, are you OK, have you heard?”
“I am fine. Heard about what, mama?” asked Angela. She prayed her family were OK.
“Oh Angela, you don’t know yet…” she heard her mother start to sob, and Angela grew terrified. “We have been getting these messages… we all have… Oh I am sorry I think maybe you needed the money and we never helped you… you could have asked us…”
Angela suddenly became puzzled. What was this? Suddenly, she became curious and clicked a message on Facebook from what seemed like a Nigerian man. It contained a link to a website. She then saw a message from a friend, Pinar, which said “Hi Angela, been getting strange messages all about you, what is going on?”
“Mama, I am fine, what is wrong I don’t understand?”
Angela’s mother just continued to sob. “We still love you darling, please don’t worry.”
“What do you mean?” Angela was starting to freak out. She noticed she had another text message, this time from Peter. She quickly read it. “Hey been sent some videos and photos of you, somebody is targeting you I think, we need to talk.”
Angela initially relaxed. So this was some online joke? “Mama, is this something to do with internet messaging? Don’t worry I always get these stalkers, it’s probably nothing.”
“Angela, you are on video, everyone can see!” her mother moaned. Angela frowned. What on earth was her mother talking about? Had someone recorded her having a shower?
“Look mama, I will call you back OK let me check this.”
Angela went through the messages. She eventually found one message from a friend, Carrie. It simply said “I think you need to look at this.” And it led to a link. She clicked it.
Angela’s heart jumped out of her throat. It was a porn site. On the full screen of her laptop was a photograph of herself, naked, smiling directly at the camera.
It took a few seconds for her to process it. It was definitively her, was it photoshopped? Surely it must be, she could not remember this. She then clicked another photograph. This time, she was in red panties, her hand was inside them, while her other hand held her nipple, and again she was smiling directly into the camera.
The red panties brought it back. This was the hotel room where she had met the client, “Alan”. But he had taken no photos? There was no camera. Was she going mad?
There were more photos, some of her looking into the camera, others of her from the side, and from different angles. She was naked in most of them. At the last, she silently screamed. Her ass was in the air, own anus and vagina was staring at her from the screen, and she was horrified to see her face smiling over shoulder. She was mortified!
Anyone could see this. Her hands started to shake, she checked the website. She looked for a delete button. She couldn’t find any. She was unfamiliar with porn, and it took her some time that it was “69dick4worship” that was the account name who had uploaded this 2 hours ago. She was able to find viewing figures: 2,564 views.
She now screamed out loud. She froze and tried to think what to do. Outside, Teresa, gasped, she must have realised! Should Teresa check on her? She knocked on the door gently…
“Angela, are you OK?” Teresa asked.
“I… I’m OK, sorry… just give me a minute I will come out…” Angela had no idea what to say. What could she do? She went back on Facebook and clicked on more messages and more links. They led to different porn sites!!! This time, her full name “Angela Candelema” was displayed below each picture! It was the same photos… but what was worse was underneath. Three videos appeared underneath the photos. Angela pressed play.
“Darling, would you like me to suck your cock now?” came the loud voice from the laptop. It was Angela’s own voice! Angela held her hands to her mouth to bite them then quickly slammed the laptop down, but the voice continued “I am sure I can make you cum” she re-opened the laptop in a panic, and tried to turn the volume off.
Teresa heard the voice from the living room. She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Angela was viewing her own video! She felt a wave of both pity and also a strange joy in how utterly hellish this must be for poor Angela.
Angela got the video back up. She saw with horror, her own face in close up, staring into a camera and sucking on the cock of Alan the client! She did not understand, then suddenly the camera cut to another view from behind. This time it showed her ass and pussy from behind as she sucked between his legs, but the face of the client was completely obscured by a moving grey blob. There was another quick cut to another angle this time side on, you could see the side of Angela’s face, her cheekbones sucked into suck the cock, her head bouncing up and down, her tits dangling below her!
Cameras! Hidden cameras! And suddenly she realised that the strange glasses were cameras too!
Angela looked at the length of the video; it was over an hour long! She quickly fast forwarded, and saw that is showed her standing up, bent over, laughing, smiling, being fucked from behind and on top, fingering herself, and eve pissing in the toilet. There was no face of the client, it was always concealed. There were more videos, some just as long.
She again looked for a delete button but none was there. How did she stop this? Her Facebook was blowing up and she was getting more and more text messages. She got some missed calls she did not answer.
She tried to calm down. She thought for a solution. But what solution? She could not get these videos down, not quickly and there seemed to be more of them from different sources coming from different men adding her on Facebook. It seemed clear, her mother had seen them! Her friends would be seeing them! Even if she got these deleted, she could not undo this.
Suddenly, she screamed. She picked up her laptop, and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall, the screen cracked, but on the floor she still saw it was playing, her body clearly bouncing up and down on the cock of the client on the screen. She picked it up again and smashed it repeatedly.
Teresa could not ignore this anymore. She thought to herself, how to show empathy, should she pretend she had not known? She had gotten some text messages from mutual friends including one guy who had “lolled” and said his friends had passed this around his friendship group already.
“Angela, what the hell is going on?” Teresa went to her door, and opened it. Angela was in tears on her bed, her dark curls cascading down her reddened face. “That bastard!” she cried. “What are you talking about?” Teresa coyly responded.
Angela suddenly realised Teresa would have seen these. She detected a smirk on her face and suddenly thought of the smile on the face of the man at the hockey lunch earlier that day. She suddenly thought, this was what everyone would think. She was a stupid girl, who had sex for money, and been videoed naked and now the photos and videos were everywhere. How could she expect sympathy?
“My life is over.” Angela cried, and cupped her face in her hands. “Some bastard is sharing videos of me naked.”
Teresa sat down beside her. “There, there, don’t worry look I got some message about it, people will ignore it.”She lied; she was trying very hard not to show her delight. “You need to calm down now…”
“What the fuck do you mean calm down?” Angela suddenly stood up. She gathered her phone and purse and laptop. “I am going to the police station now.” She stormed out; the station was just five minutes’ walk away. Teresa left her, and when she had left, she got on her laptop and took a better look at the videos. She began masturbating to them; enjoying Angela’s sexual performance and the naughty feeling of knowing her friend’s life was now ruined.

Chapter 11
Angela’s hopes were dashed at the police station. She was told it was a civil matter that the porn websites had the images. She did not own them, whoever took the pictures did. She was also told that unless the websites were domiciled in the UK the UK police could not assist she would need to instruct international lawyers.
She had pleaded with them to do something about the hidden cameras .The police seemed sceptical. How could she not know there were half a dozen cameras on her? And they did not even believe the story about the glasses being a type of hidden camera.
But it was when she could not explain who “Alan” was that they finally lost patience. She had to admit she was working as a call girl and could not say who this person was. The message was clear: if you were there as a prostitute you had no right to privacy. In fact they believed she had made a porn film (she could be seen drinking on the screen) and had now regretted it.
Revenge porn legislation was still years in the future. There seemed no avenue open for Angela. She was instead given a number for Samaritans.
In despair, she tried calling Fatima. The number was not recognised. She tried looking up “Londonnights” but the only advertisement for it she could find had a number leading to an east Asian sounding woman who said she had no idea who “Fatima” was. She said the business had been taken over a few months back and Fatima may have just opened up a new business under a different name.
Angela was crestfallen. She had no one to help her. No means of redress. The videos and photors were all over the internet.
She called Peter.
“What is up with that video? When was that taken?”
Angela realised with a shock that he was accusing him of cheating on him. She realised she had no good excuse; she had worked as a prostitute while dating him and sleeping with him. And now he would be humiliated. “My friends have all seen the videos; somehow, in fact somebody even sent it to my mother!” He sounded genuinely angry.
Angela broke down. Rather than sympathy she was being blamed. They cancelled the date that evening and promised to talk tomorrow.

Chapter 12
Edward Pembroke returned from helping to shower his mother. The grim task was completed and he was minded to go out tonight to celebrate and get his mother’s body out of his mind. He checked on the progress with Angela. He saw that some of her friends had responded to messages sent to them saying “Fuck off you psychopaths. Leave her alone” and “Angela is a hundred times the human being you scumbags will ever be, we will not let this destroy her!”
But he also saw that her presence was multiplying across porn platforms. One video came up on “popular” on pornhub without him even looking for it. And all these videos could easily be downloaded and saved. He counted dozens and dozens of links, many containing her name. He also saw some Pinkmeth comments including one from an industrious Pinkmeth contributor who posted some screenshots of messages being sent to various Spanish people, a message to her school expressing disgust that a prostitute was working there, and a message to the UN education department warning them that Angela Candelema was a porn star who could not be trusted.
Pembroke started masturbating again. He knew that he had ruined someone’s life and that this was, objectively, a terrible thing. But the hormones and endorphins and the feeling of his hard cock overrode and eliminated all other thought processes other than the enjoyment of her debasement. He eventually came, and immediately felt guilty. More to the point, he started to worry again that he might be traced. Perhaps someone could remove the blob over his face in the videos? He had double checked this on voyeur forums and from reading tech documentation and could only be 99% sure he was in the clear.
He checked the Facebook profile of Angela, and realised it was hidden. The same with her LinkedIn. And her twitter account. He sighed, part of him felt happy that he had done his work well and that she was now well and truly impacted, but realised he would never be able to follow her online again.
He had his own fake social media profiles and followed some of her closest friends and saw that she was not visible through them either. He saw one update from a young woman who posted that “my friend has had a horrible experience with intimate photos and videos being spread. Please think of her and her family and delete these and do not share them, she is suffering.”
Pembroke went out that night, and booked another prostitute. The type of glasses he wore were never becoming more famous and so he could not longer use them to record prostitutes, and in the absence of having time to place hidden cameras, he satisfied himself with straight, unrecorded sex with a pleasant young Filipina lady called Nadia. As he massaged her, he tried to remember Angela and the feeling of her body. He returned home, and took out her used red panties and sniffed them again. He kept them in an airtight lunchbox under his bed to maintain the smell of her pussy as long as possible. He then treated himself to an extended hours long cut of the footage of Angela making love to him, this private version being without his face being cut out.
Periodically he checked Pinkmeth. Angela was a huge hit. Girls with bright futures were always popular and numerous commenters boasted of how many people they had emailed and how much they had uploaded her videos and photos. He smiled as he opened up a French porn website, and under “le plus populaire du jour” he was pleased to see Angela’s video had appeared. She was becoming world famous! Though entirely not how she would have hoped as recently as twenty four hours ago.
Google now had her entry on porn hub as the most popular Google entry for her name, twelve hours after the posting. And Google images now had had all the naked images appear on the first page alongside her social media pictures.
Angela tearfully confessed everything to her mother, and they both cried on the online messaging service together. Her mother pleaded with her to be strong. Angela could not sleep. She had planned to spend her Saturday night in a beautiful gown at the opera with her surgeon boyfriend to toast her new bright future as an international education spokeswoman and co-ordinator. Instead, she was up all night praying and crying in her single bed ignoring her flatmates’ knocks on the door and requests to chat.
The following morning she spend a small fortune on a new laptop. She went on to the porn websites and began messaging admins to ask them to take down videos and photos. She had shut down her social media profiles. She felt a little better when she first saw that some videos and photos were taken down.
However, she was taken aback when some admin teams just emailed her back telling her that she had no right to the videos and that they would not take it down unless she could prove she was underage. After some research she realised most of these websites were based abroad.
She also grew depressed when she saw that some of the videos had been uploaded just a few minutes earlier, on the same sites where she had gotten the same video removed an hour before. Different users were uploading the same videos. Some videos described her as a “Arab whore in Dubai” others as “babe loves cock and being on film” as if they had no idea who she was. Who were these freaks who just shared these videos over the world? She despaired when almost in real time she saw a new video, two minutes old, already with a hundred views, with the title “Angela Candelema, London school teacher, fucked hard in hotel room”.
She used Google reverse image to look for the videos and noticed there were now hundreds of results. Some sites looked just weird and beyond all control of any reasonable body or government. She panicked further when she realised that just her name now showed up as text in the sex videos. She tried to contact Google directly but even with them had to wait and navigate a labyrinth process.
She could not find any law against posting porn without an actress’ permission. She realised she was completely fucked. These videos would be seen and saved by everyone she had known, and everyone she would know.
Her Sunday was usually a wholesome affair with volunteering friends or study. Instead, she spent it browsing through filth she had never seen before. She barely ate and stayed glued to her screen. She told herself that as long as she was trying to get videos down it was something and that stopped her going mad.
She tried to sleep a little on Sunday night but could not. She dreaded going to work next morning. It would be the first time where she had to actually meet people.

Chapter 13
Angela tried to dress up as best she could. She chose the thickest cardigan and least figure hugging jeans she could find. Her stomach was in a knot and she vomited in a side street just before she got into the school.
As she walked in, she could not help but notice other teachers stop and stare at her. “Whore” was shouted out by one of the boys. Some girls giggled and looked at her.
She taught one class, where half the pupils were puzzled as to why she looked so ill and quiet. The other half were much louder and badly behaved than normal. They had all seen the videos and shared them. Some of the pupils had smart phones and showed them to other pupils across the desk. Angela noticed one girl stare at her friends’ phone, open mouthed, then up at Angela, then start to giggle.
Angela went red. She told the class to read the text, and sat at her desk, head down, trying to ignore the whispers and giggles.
After class, a teacher came in, Mr Willets. Normally, he blushed when he saw her, but today he was more formal. “Ms Candelema, Mr Bradley would like to see you immediately in his office. I will be covering your class for now while you see him.”
Angela knew what it was about. She walked to the headmaster’s office, knocked on the door, and upon entering saw the headmaster with four other people, some were governors.
“Ms Candelema, I think from your expression, you know what this meeting is going to be about?” said Mr Bradley, his authoritarian tone rising and different to the ingratiating nature he usually he had, especially when he had recently begged Angela to stay at the school
“Yes” said Angela quietly. She did not meet anyone’s eyes; she sat and stared down at her hands awaiting the inevitable.
“Videos of a pornographic nature of you have been shared widely among pupils, staff and parents. I was getting messages about this as early as Saturday. It seems you made a porn movie and it has now come to everyone’s attention.” Mr Bradley saw no need in beating about the bush.
Angela suddenly perked up. “No! I did not make it! I was secretly recorded, I did not know there were cameras, I was just … I was just having sex I was doing what adults do… I did not mean for this movie to be made or for this to get out!!!”
Mr Bradley and the governors found this hard to believe. Secretly he intended to watch the videos later, privately, to masturbate over. But he had already seen them in a professional capacity and they all could see she was enthusiastically speaking to the camera and was being filmed from different angles like a professional. The male had his face blocked out, so probably he had leaked it, but surely she had consented to the filming, and if so she must have known it would come out?”
“We find it hard to believe you did not consent to make this type of movie, from what we have seen of it. You may not have spread it but you must have known when making this kind of movie it would get out eventually. “
“No!” Angela panicked. There was no sympathy and she realised she was going to be fired. “You see… he was wearing cameras in his glasses but I didn’t know… and I didn’t see the other cameras… he never told me! “
“Have you spoken to police?” enquired one middle aged woman who she presumed was a governor. She seemed less than sympathetic and indeed she was. She just saw a pretty young girl who probably loved the attention of men and had been stupid enough to agree to something that was going to tarnish her career. In fact she considered her a silly little slut whom it would be best to make an example of lest the schoolgirls get any ideas.
“I did, but I don’t know why,… it’s not against the law??” Angela wailed.
“Who did you make this video with?” asked Bradley.
Angela sighed. “It was a man whom I thought I could trust… “
“A man with magic glasses and invisible cameras who gets you to do private things in a hotel room?” interjected the same woman as before.
There was some discomfort in the room. Some governors sympathised with Angela, but they knew she could not teach anymore at the school with the videos and photos being shared, regardless of fault.
“I didn’t know… I want the videos and photos off the internet; please I can get them off!”
Mr Bradley sighed. “I am afraid, Ms Candelema, that the videos and the photos are on every smartphone and computer of the pupils and teachers of this school, even those who have tried to avoid it! Just googling your name brings up pornography. You have brought the school’s reputation into disrepute with this movie. And I am afraid we cannot advise you on controlling this media online.”
“But I did not make any movie I was recorded without my knowledge!”
“Even if you can prove that, which I doubt, it doesn’t change that the children have all seen you do unspeakable things. Have you spoken to the man in the video?” asked Bradley.
“He …. He did it because he hates me…” said Angela. She did not want to admit that she had no idea who the man was or how to contact him. This mysterious stranger, who had taken it upon himself to ruin her life, for what reason?
“I strongly suggest you speak to him, but if you cannot persuade him to take these down then I cannot see what you or we can do. As I understand you make this type of movie, you are marking yourself for life as a porn start” scoffed the woman.
Angela despaired, they did not believe her! “I would never make a movie like this! I hate pornography! I am the last person who would say I want to be in a porn movie!”
“This is a circular argument” responded Bradley. The fact is, you ARE in a porn movie, several, and I am sorry to say, will be for the rest of your life. And I fail to see how we can argue that you did not mean to be in it, I mean it’s not like he recorded you in the shower or something…”
“The glasses… there are glasses with cameras!” said Angela
“Why would this man do this to you?” asked the woman governor. Her eyes narrowed. She wondered why a man would do this to a woman he knew who could get back at him. She had heard that Angela had a surgeon for a boyfriend and seemed respectable. From looking at the footage, she strongly suspected that Angela had been working as a prostitute and been filmed by a client, which was why he was so happy to share it. She had shared this with the others before the meeting and they all quietly agreed. The man in the video did not look very appealing even without his face showing. Certainly not in the class of Angela.
“Would you be prepared to get a statement from the man in the video? Or to let us have his details?” asked Bradley. He asked it casually, but knew it would be a devastating request.
Angela stayed quiet. She did not want to disgrace herself further. She was in a horrible trap.
“Ms Candelema, we are sorry to say that we have decided to suspend you with immediate effect pending a full investigation and ask that you leave the school premises now and do not return until we allow you to.”
“But, I love my job, this should not affect me…” Angela began to cry, but also knew she could not work here while these videos and photos were everywhere.
“And also” Bradley cleared his throat. “You are forbidden from contacting any of the school pupils or parents. We know that you are popular with the children but you must not interact with them anymore. This is a safeguarding issue and with this kind of sexual offence… we do not wish you to engage with children here.”
Angela tried to process what he was trying to say. “I am a sex offender? All I did was have sex, everyone has sex! Everyone! Just some bastard filmed me, without telling me, and put it online! And now you let that ruin my life and call me a sex abuser!” Angela raised her voice and wave her arms in anger.
Bradley called out. “Please stay calm, Ms Candelema, John ! John”
The door opened and a large African security guard appeared. “John, please escort this woman from the premises and make sure she does not re-enter. Ms Candelema, I am truly sorry we part ways like this, but this is for the children. You can inform us later of any things you want to collect.”
Angela was in shock. Pupils stood up in their classrooms to look out the windows as they watched her being marched out. Her face looked haggard, with little sleep in the last two days, her long curly brown locks a mess from being pulled and torn out, and she started to cry.
Some of the pupils started filming her on their phones. A few hours later, Edward Pembroke was scouring twitter when he saw the tagline of her school, saw a few links to the porn sites, and then saw a short video of the hunched figure of Angela from a distance, in a black cardigan and dungarees being led out of a car park by a security guard. He shared the link to the Pinkmeth forum, and inserted a smiley face next to it “Mission accomplished!”
Angela stayed in her room for days. Her friends tried to comfort her but she felt disgusting knowing each one of them had seen every crevice and orifice of her body. Her parents’ friends had all be sent the video and her father had to attend hospital for a minor heart attack with the stress, after seeing his naked daughter straddling a man in a hotel room, after clicking on a video purportedly showing a comedy slip. A neighbour with a sick sense of humour had sent the link to him and disguised it.
Angela and Peter met in a café. Peter was furious with her. He was sure she had cheated on him but also suspected that she had worked as a prostitute which Angela denied. Angela despaired; she was not good at lying and as a good hearted person rarely had to deal with it. She had done escort work once, just to cover some rent and show her cousin a good time, and this was the result. Peter was upset that she had sex with another man but was also humiliated that all his friends and family had seen his girlfriend naked and fucking another man. He told her their relationship was over.
Angela had one hope left, and it was dashed at the end of the week. Someone from the UN recruitment contacted her and told her that due to “unforeseen circumstances” they could not continue with her application and the offer was withdrawn. They refused to elaborate. In reality, they had been sent the video and did not want to hire someone so compromised.
Angela howled for hours after getting the phone call about the UN job. She had told herself that her teaching job and her relationship could be forgotten, but this was her ticket to a bright career.
She was also running low on money. Her parents sent her some money, but she got a new job in a café, and in a high end entertainment venue.
She dropped her social life. She could not face people whom she knew had seen her naked. Many were sympathetic and begged to see her telling her they did not care about the videos. But Angela wanted a fresh start. She enjoyed working with people who had no idea of the disaster which had just befallen her. This was broken however, when one of her co workers awkwardly came up to her and told her that they had googled her name and come across porn with her name over it, and was she aware of it?
She broke down in tears on the job and left mid shift. In the evening job she referred to herself as her middle name “Maria” and tried to avoid telling much about herself. A few weeks later it was confirmed she had lost her job as a teacher.
The months grew by; she found a new flatshare and avoided people outside of work. One evening, she had to waitress a prestigious event. She wore, as directed, a black cocktail dress with black tights and noticed how the middle aged men eyed her up. Their wives looked at her jealously especially as she chatted with the men about current events. Angela suddenly panicked, this was the sort of event she had dreamt of attending as a respected professional but all she was good for was being a pretty 24 year old waitress.
She left London soon afterward. She still had a degree and a masters degree and managed to find a teaching job in Paris. She had managed to get Google to not show her naked pictures on the results page of her name, or at least not until page 7, and asked her employer to be called “Maria” not Angela.

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