Apparently everyone comes to the same conclusion that we did; this is a fucking great idea. Because the next moment, they're cheering louder than ever before. It seriously takes me a few minutes to get the last line of my speech in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Illicit Escape. Available for sale this year," I say and pause as the cameras get one last shot of me. I wave and then Cheryl comes up to me. She's smiling and she guides me off stage.
Lots of adrenaline, I'll be the first to fucking admit.
But that's not all that catches my eye.
At the curb, there's a limo. And as I look over to see it, I notice the window gets rolled up. When I try to walk toward the limo-I don't know why, okay?-it pulls away from the curb and drives away.
I don't know why it fucking bothers me so much. Corporate espionage? Maybe.
"Cheryl," I tell her as she handles some press inquiries at the base of the podium. She looks at me, waiting for me to speak. "Pull the surveillance cameras and get me the license plates and registration for that limo that just went by when you get a chance, will you?" I ask her.
She nods.
Maybe I'm being a bit too paranoid, you know?
But with this high of stakes-with something that's going to take me from a regular billionaire to the richest man on the planet-you can never be too careful.
92
Brittney
I don't make it a habit of jumping inside of strange limos, but I acted on impulse and here I am. Walter didn't seem concerned, and I trust his instincts. He's never steered me wrong in the past, and when the man said it would be worth my while, I figured I'd hear him out. A new business prospect will always pique my interest, and like I said, I'm not worried; I can handle myself. If I can handle one man, I can handle them all. As I scoot into the limo, I look across the leather seat and find a man with long, stringy blonde hair. It's thinning and he pushes it behind his ears. He has a thin, crooked nose that he's rubbing with the back of his hand, and he's wearing skinny jeans that make him look more feminine than masculine. I don't see a bulge in his crotch. I was curious; can you blame me for looking? But I bet he has a small cock. He's rail thin with watery eyes, and I immediately second-guess my decision to get into this vehicle with him.
"You want a bump?" he asks. He's holding out a playing card-King of spades-with a small pile of white powder heaped on it. I wasn't born yesterday. I've been with enough loser ex-boyfriends to know what he's offering me. But believe me, I'm not about to go down that path.
"I'll pass," I say. "I'm not here to waste my time. Why did you call this meeting?"
"Suit yourself," he smiles. "But you're missing out. This is the good shit. Straight from Colombia."
I watch as he holds the card to his nose and inhales the powder in one, quick snort. His eyes seem more animated now and he continues, "I need you to get back into porn."
Is this guy serious? I laugh out loud. "That's it? You've got the wrong woman. I have bigger, more successful hustles now."
"No, I don't," he continues, looking straight at me. "I've got the perfect woman. I'd argue you're one of the best performers in the industry. That scene you did with the alien tentacle fetish-brilliant."
"I appreciate the compliment, but that's all in the past. I'm not getting back into that industry. I've moved on. If you know anything about me, you know that I now have better things to chase," I say.
"Let me finish," he says. "Are you familiar with the name Ethan Kane?"
"Of course. He's the billionaire porn producer of Illicit Entertainment. Who doesn't know him? He seems to be in the news every other day."
"I need you to get him to fall in love with you."
I can't help but laugh some more. Is this guy for real? I'm not laughing because I think I can't do it-I know I can. But why would I want to? "You've got to be kidding. Get Ethan Kane to fall in love with me? He's a playboy. He doesn't fall in love with anyone. And who are you anyways-some scorned ex-lover?"
"Pardon my lack of an introduction. I should've introduced myself," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Simon Conners. Ethan and I used to be business partners-but that's another lifetime … and a long story." He looks out the window of the limo, and across the city. He seems to be lost in memory.
"Look, corporate espionage isn't really my thing. You're better off finding someone else. If you were an abused lover looking for justice in an unhappy marriage, I could help. But this? No thanks. I'll pass." I reach for the door handle, but Simon stops me. He places his hand on mine and shakes his head. "Oh come on, how hard can it be darling?" he asks, his eyes glare at me as if this were a dare. I'm a competitive person-I'll admit that-and I'm not one to back down from a challenge, but this is ridiculous.
"Why would I want to get Ethan Kane to fall in love with me?" I ask. It's a legitimate question. Sure, he's hot, but guys that good looking have an ego to match. And why would I want to jump back into porn? I have a lot more power and prestige with what I'm doing now. I don't need it. Sure, porn is exciting. If you're a strong, hot woman who knows what she wants, it's great. It's empowering, even. The power. The fans. That's good. Sure, I've seen my fair share of high-octane drama-relationship scandals, jealousy, you name it-and sure, sometimes you end up sleeping with some hot men … and women-but at the end of the day, many women can't hack it. In fact, I've seen a lot fail. It's a lot of maintenance. Hair, nails, waxing, makeup, daily workouts, tanning, calorie counting-you get the picture; these are the things that take up your time and attention every day. And when you're doing this in front of a camera-extreme close ups and all-well, all of those things are even more important.
And sometimes-although it's rare-filming porn can be downright embarrassing for some of the entertainers. Like the one time I watched as another woman was scheduled to give a quick blow job. I never eat right before filming scenes. That's just my personal rule. Eating is a rookie mistake. But there she was, gorging on pizza without a single regard to the consequences. So, the director brings her in front of the camera and as soon as the guy jams his cock down her throat, she throws up all over him-and the set-and we all watch as she runs to the bathroom as fast as she can in stilettos. The director had to call me in to cover, and let me tell you-I was happy to do it. No one can deep throat a cock like I can. I won an award for that scene.
Simon clears his throat and starts talking again. He can tell I'm lost in thought. "Today, Ethan Kane announced a new technology that is going to revolutionize the porn industry-Illicit Escape," he says, bringing me back to the present.
I shrug my shoulders. "Good for him. I mean, that's where porn's going-if companies aren't embracing technology, they're losing out. What else is new?"
"Listen, darling. I need you bring me the plans for the Illicit Escape technology, and you'll do that by getting back into porn, and trapping Ethan by getting him to fall in love with you."
Where does this guy get off giving me commands like that? "First off, I don't fucking take anyone's commands. Second, your plans sound good in theory, but I've already said no," I reply firmly. "How many ways can I say it? No means no."
Simon looks exasperated but undeterred. "I wouldn't come to that conclusion if I were you. I'll pay you-a sum that will make you-"
I cut him off. "I'm making enough money without this gig," I say. "Hire some developers, bring in the best augmented reality and virtual reality platforms that money can buy, and make it yourself-if you've got as much money as you say you do."
"I'm not interested in doing any of that, and there's more," Simon continues, indifferent to my recommendations. "I'll also give you a file."
"What kind of file?"
"There's a man by the name of Robert," he says. "Perhaps that name rings a bell? He could be told where to find you at any time … any place."
The name causes me to freeze. I wonder if it's the same Robert I'm thinking of … It has to be.
"Are you threatening me?"
"It's not a threat darling," he says. "It's the truth."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I nearly shout. Now he's taken this too far, threatening my livelihood. I have one hand in my purse, my fingers resting on a cold, hard can of mace. I carry it for emergencies and I consider taking it out and spraying it into those beady eyes of his.
He senses what I'm about to do and says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Be smart and do the right thing. Be the predator and not the prey. You can walk away from this with a lot of money. Believe me, it'll make your current wealth pale in comparison. Or … and I hate to think about this path darling … but if you don't make the right choice, you'll walk away the wounded gazelle with her throat in the lion's mouth."