Even if I do still wear my own lingerie designs beneath the business casual.
My eyes light up when I see one of my models, Katerina, working the runway in my blush lace teddy and garter set.
She knows how to get all the men in the room hard, and all the ladies wet. And hard dicks and wet pussies sell lingerie, frankly. That’s just how the industry works.
My mentor, Jackson Halo, taught me that much.
Kat and I go way back. We started modeling around the same time, and we always seemed to compete for the same jobs.
I didn't think you could become friends with your biggest rival, but that's just what Kat and I had become.
If I had a female friend, she'd probably be the closest to me. But unfortunately, even Kat and I aren’t so close now.
It's true what they say, it's lonely at the top.
Sure, the occasional one-night stand is satisfying, but companionship is not what I'm looking for.
Maybe, I should have a few female friends. I mean, Monique is a friend. Except that I pay her…to do whatever I say.
Okay, mental note to put another item on my endless to-do list: cultivate female friendships.
As Kat leaves the stage and heads back to change for the big finale, Evan makes her entrance in a daring cut-down-to-there red satin slip with matching kimono.
I love the feather boa trim on this ensemble. I think that was a 3 a.m. touch of genius. It seems like my best ideas come in the middle of the night…And this piece is proof.
Evan is a newbie, but she's handling the pressure of model life like a champ.
It's adorable how she seems to look up to me. Just this morning, she was asking me advice on who among photographers are best to work with.
That part of the job—helping young models become as successful as I was—is probably my favorite part.
Forget that crap Tanner said in his press release about empowering women.
Please. What a crock of shit.
I'm the one actually doing it.
Tanner Sharpe is all talk, and always has been. He'll say whatever he needs to to melt your defenses, and get you into bed. I learned that the hard way.
“The finale's next, boss,” Monique says, refocusing my attention back to the stage.
I turn to look just as all ten models I handpicked strut on to the stage in two perfectly in-sync rows.
They work the stage as they make their way down the narrow runway right beside me.
My heart starts beating faster in anticipation of the finale, and they begin to do their sassiest turns just as we’ve choreographed.
They head towards the widest part of the stage to pose for the finale, where I’ll join them for my big bow.
I start to stand, but pause when I see that they’ve gone off-script. Um, why are they turning their backs to the audience?
I freeze, unable to catch up with what's happening on stage when, I kid you not—they lift up their matching satin robes to show off…
I can't even fucking say.
Scratch that. I don’t want to fucking say.
All my models—my models!—are sporting a property of stamp on their left ass cheek.