Porn for People vs POS

VEGAS TODAY

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I entered the Castillo resort to cover the highly controversial erotica author's convention, Porn For People, completely unaware that a storm was brewing. 

At the base of the escalator leading to the convention floor, stood three, polyester pants-suited earnest women, handing out flyers.

"Don't go up there!"

I stopped, my journalistic curiosity aroused and flashed my press pass. "What's going on?" 

"You look like a nice young woman." A glossy brochure was shoved in my hand. On the cover were the words "Protect Your Soul!" along with a picture of a man wearing a studded collar and very little else. My eyes were immediately drawn to the loincloth draped low upon his manly hips. His pleading stare begged me to help him as he clutched bolt-cutters in one hand and a leash in the other. Underneath the picture in bold letters read the caption "Please Free Me!"

Intrigued, I opened the brochure. Before I could read further, a chubby finger stabbed the paper. "He's a prisoner of porn! If you go up there, you'll become a slave, just like him!"

Loud laughter, a thumping beat and good cheer drifted down from above. A conga line passed at the head of the escalators. I could barely pull my attention back to the staid conversation before me. I didn't want to be rude, but I wanted to get up those stairs and cover the conference. "Who are you?"

The grandmotherly woman sniffed. "We're from POS. National headquarters in Master, Nebraska sent us."

Okay, I was confused. I glanced back down at the model on the cover. I hated to admit he was more than a little hot. I cleared my throat. "POS?" No it couldn't be. "Do you mean...?"

I thought she was going to stomp her foot. "Absolutely not! We get that all the time. POS stands for Protect Our Souls. Our mission is to stop this degrading, pornographic gathering from continuing." She pointed upward. "We saw people up there being held against their will!"

Really.  Now I definitely wanted to cover the event. I looked up with longing. As innocently as possible, I waved the brochure and asked, "Is this poor man up there?"

"Oh no, dear! David's one of us." She leans in and confides, "And he hated every moment of that photo shoot."

I'll just bet he did.

One of the other women piped up, "The poor photographer was so disturbed! But he was such a trooper. He took pictures for hours until he was satisfied."

Lady number three tsked, "And afterward, they were both so ravenous, they went out to dinner."

A hand grasped my elbow. I turned to find a face that distracted me from my lustful thoughts of cover model David. Jackson Castillo. 

"Hello, Margot. I'm here to escort you upstairs." He spoke over his shoulder to the three POS representatives. "And ladies, security will escort you out of my hotel."

Ignoring their protests, he tucked my hand in the crook of his arm and winked at me. "Ready?"

Stay tuned for Part II of Margot's 

Porn For People Experience tomorrow!