Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(79)

"The neighborhood has been transformed entirely," City Councilman Rod  Serling said when asked about the establishment. "It's economically  revitalized the area for sure."

All this is nothing new to Austin Price, the one time porn star turned entrepreneur.

"All we're here to do at the end of the day," he says to us with a  winning smile, "is to please women. Is there anything so wrong with  that?"

We don't think so. And we're pretty sure neither will you.



Python Nightclub

Located at 21-30 Varick Street

Court Square, New York 11104



Hours: 12:00 pm to 5:00 am

Days: 7 Days A Week

Cover: Yes

Cost: $$$

Stars: Five





63





Destiny





Some books are so fucking hot that you should wear gloves while handling  them. No, I'm not talking about Alexis Angel. I mean, everyone reads  her, but she can only do so much. But there's also smut that's published  by guys-the ones that leave you boiling from the inside out-your pussy  becoming a literal faucet. Sure, they're a mess when it comes to the  laundry bill, but what's a girl gonna do? I mean, can you say drippy,  babe? Because that's what I am right fucking now.

Growing up, my teachers always told me that I should read more, and I  actually took their advice to heart. I guess they'd prefer me to read  the classics, but hey, in my heart Eddie Cleveland is a modern classic,  okay?

What? I mean, who else could make me this wet for a woodsman? A freakin'  woodsman. Sometimes I wish I could be saved by one as well.

Sadly, there are no woodsmen around New York City, especially not  Manhattan. Especially if we take into account that we're inside a strip  club. My strip club-in case you didn't realize it with the flashing red  letters outside, the ones that read Dirty Destiny.

And yeah, I'm Destiny. Actually, my name is Destiny Renee, but everyone  just calms me Destiny around here. And what's with the ‘Dirty' part?  Well …  I mean, this is a strip club, so the name seemed fitting, I guess.  I swear babe, I'm not rolling my eyes. I'm actually really glad you're  here and I absolutely love it that you wanted to spend some time with  me. I can be a bit abrasive and aloof at times, let me just let you  know. So please don't mind me. And honestly, I'll try to be a bit more  patient. Anyways, where were we? Oh right. Dirty, why the dirty, right?  Well, the club name seemed to fit. And I like to think I'm a dirty,  dirty girl.

Hey, don't judge; this is the 21st century, okay? Women can finally live outside of a kitchen and be their own selves.

That's right. I said it. I'm not your normal woman who excels in the three Cs. You know, cooking, cleaning, and cock sucking.

I'm good at cock sucking. Very fucking good.

But cooking and cleaning? I have a private chef and a maid to do that.

I place the kindle down on my desk and stand up, stretching. I flip back  so that I can't see the cover-it's getting me wet just by looking at  it-and I turn on my heels so that I'm facing the curved wall-to-ceiling  windows behind me. They're a one-way mirror actually, and since my  office is right above the main stage, I can take a good look at what's  happening in my club whenever I want without ever leaving my little cave  here.

Not that I don't leave my office; I like to mingle with the customers  (specially the hot ones), and sometimes I even show up on stage. I don't  do it often now, but sometimes the customers get so loud, chanting my  name, that I have no other choice but go up there and shake my ass for  them.

I kinda like it. Right, if you're going to judge and call me a slut, then you know what? I have two words for you.

Fuck off.

Yeah, I'm a slut. And a damn good one too.

I look down at the stage where two dancers are dancing over what seems  like a carpet of one dollar bills, and the place is packed as usual.  Which fits me just right, since I'm in the mood for some fun tonight. I  mean, it's Eddie Cleveland and his fucking woodsman's fault; that guy  has gotten me so wet right now that I need to fuck something. Narrowing  my eyes into slits, I try to find someone who looks like fun. But it  doesn't seem that I'm in luck tonight. The main floor is packed, sure,  but these are all guys in their forties and fifties, most of them  probably drunk out of their minds. Right, keep spending, fellas. All  those women are laughing at you ugly assholes.

Someone sitting close to the stage grabs my interest. He's …  an acquaintance, if I can call him that.

What?

Okay fine.

Fuck it. Let me just be straight with you from now on. That guy down there I'm looking at is a grade A asshole. A bastard.

His name is Lester Vicks, and he's the Commissioner of Police for the NYPD.

Yeah. The top man in law enforcement. He's quite a powerful guy, and  he's a regular. And by regular I mean that he comes here almost every  night, drops hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars.

Now, don't take this the wrong way and start thinking that I'm full of  myself, but I know the real reason he comes here all the time: it's  because of me.

The first time he came was on opening day, and I was up on the stage  twirling on a pole when he waltzed in the floor, that look of  self-importance on his face. But I remember the way his eyes lit up when  he saw me dancing, sliding down the pole as the crowd threw dollar  bills at me. I don't think I've ever seen a man become that stunned ever  since.

"Destiny, it's an honor to meet you in person," he told me that night  when I stepped down off the stage. I was polite enough to have a  one-on-one conversation with him since he stuffed more than a dozen one  hundred dollar bills in my thong and between my tits. I'm nice like  that, ya know?

By the look he had on his face, I knew immediately that he recognized me from …

Right. We're being honest.

Well, he recognized me from his laptop screen, most likely.

You see, when I chose the name Dirty Destiny for my club, it wasn't just  because it was a fitting name for a strip club. Dirty Destiny was my,  uhm, nom de plume when I did porn. Yeah, that's right, I was a porn  star, and a good one at that.

Don't you remember the "Daddy Don't Tease Me" series? That was me.

What about "Shaving Private Ryan?" Yep.

You ever watch those taboo movies? "Banging My Hottie Stepmom?"

Yeah, I did a lot of porn.

I mean, where do you think I got the money to open up a club of my own?  In Manhattan? Right in the heart of Midtown on Broadway and 52 Street.

I loved doing porn. No need to feel bad.

I mean, being a porn star wasn't exactly a childhood dream of mine. But  once I graduated UCLA and took my chances as a model, I was hooked. I  went from regular modelling to topless photoshoots (they paid so much  better), and I loved living the high life. I travelled all around the  world making lots of money, and once Arsen Hawke entered my life I knew  what I had to do. That's right, that Arsen Hawke, the king of porn  himself.

He offered me the chance to go and work for him, and I couldn't say no.  It wasn't just about the money (even though he almost drowned me in it),  but more about finding out who I was.

And I like sex.

I like it a lot. So it was only logical for me to become a porn star.

That didn't last long, although I worked in the industry long enough to  earn a legion of rabid fans. I always had a good laugh when I saw men  doing online polls, trying to figure out if I was the best porn star of  this generation, or perhaps even the greatest of all time. But in the  end, it just wasn't for me. It's a high-stress job, and most girls  burnout pretty easily. Not to mention that some just take the money and  funnel it into drugs. I didn't want to end up like that, so I took my  money and left, and all this with Arsen's blessing. I was actually  surprised that he didn't mind me leaving, since I was probably one of  his biggest earners, but that's Arsen, a shrewd businessman, but more  than that, an amazing human being.         

     



 

Anyways, so that's how I ended up here on Broadway, running my own club.  I'm living the dream, you better believe it. Sure, not everything is  perfect, and the one thing between me and that elusive perfection is  none other than Lester. He spends a lot of money here, sure, but I don't  care for it, and that's probably because most of the money he spends  here is money I've given him myself. Yeah, that's right, Lester is one  of those guys, the ones that wield their power and position to step on  the people they should be protecting. I don't take it personally,  though. Part of working in this business is dealing with shady  characters like him; it comes with the territory.

There's one thing in his favor, though: he's actually quite easy on the  eyes. He's in his early forties, but he has been blessed with good  genes. I mean, if you have a crooked cop who's extorting you, it helps  if he's hot, right? Tall and broad shouldered, he keeps fit enough to be  mistaken for a thirty year old. Which is pretty amazing, if you  consider that he's the police commissioner. Still, it doesn't really  surprise me that he managed to climb the ranks that fast; he's as shrewd  and calculating as anyone can be, and proof of that is the fact that he  doesn't mind lining up his pockets with my protection money. But I pay  him nonetheless …  He made it pretty clear the day we had our first  one-on-one conversation. "You'll pay, or I'll close you down," he told  me, making it pretty clear that he was just one phone call away of  shutting me down. So, yeah, that was that.