Executive Engagement

So anyway, after this book broke all the records, the obvious next step was a talk show. But this isn’t just any talk show. Not even close.

Because I’ve taken my desire to help people have satisfying sex to the next level. Instead of telling them how to do it, I show them. Yep. You read that right. Every single night, my show is filmed and broadcast live. And every single night I go down on the featured guest and give her the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life.

I’ve made my fortune as the Cunning Linguist. I can have any woman I want. And I do. On the regular. I’ve heard there are some billionaires out there who might not like so many women throwing themselves at them because of their financial status. Me? I couldn’t fucking care less. You know why? Because I know why the women are really after me. They want my magic tongue. And I’m more than happy to give it to them.

The world fucking needs more orgasms. And not just any old orgasm. Not the kind that barely makes your pussy clench, the kind that only has a hint of a tingle behind it.

Fuck no.

What this world needs is the eyes-rolling-back-in-the-head, brain-short-circuiting, make-you-cum-until-you-can’t-fucking-breathe kind of orgasms. And I’m happy to be of service.

Every woman deserves that. So that’s why I’m here right now with Mia, her blush just starting to fade as I stare earnestly into her eyes.

“It’s okay, Mia,” I assure her. “That’s why you’re here. You’re not alone. Isn’t that right ladies?”

I turn my megawatt grin on the audience full of women, hitting them with the full force of my raw sex appeal. I can practically smell the pheromones as their panties get even wetter than I know they already are.

Cheers and hoots come from the crowd. Damn right that’s why they’re here. They want to see this for themselves. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all come at once while watching me eat Mia out here in a few minutes.

And this episode tonight? It’s going to be one of a kind. The audience doesn’t know it yet—nobody does except Mia, me, and the crew—but the entire encounter is going to be filmed tonight. Typically, the camera gets a shot of me moving in, then pans up to the woman I’m pleasuring, capturing the pure bliss on her face as I give her the orgasm of her life. But lately people have been questioning the show. I’ve seen it all over Twitter. People suggesting that the guests are faking it, that I’m not actually going down on them, that the live audience is paid off to say that I am.

What a load of bullshit. My record is fucking unbroken. Not once have I ever gone down on a woman and come up anything less than victorious. The fact that these fuckers want to mess with my reputation and question my credibility pisses me off like nothing else. So we’re going to shut them up once and for all.

Tonight the audience all across the country will see it all live on TV.

Cutting my gaze away from the audience of horny, simpering, panting women, I glance around the set. This studio is fucking awesome. It doesn’t look anything like your typical talk show set. Yeah, we have a couple of cushy chairs, but everything else screams sex—the black and gray studio walls with bright pink accents, and the muted lighting that gives off a dark and mysterious vibe. It’s sleek, modern, and sexy as fuck. It’s my kingdom, and I’m about to make sure everyone knows I’m still the king of muff diving.

“So these orgasms—” I begin again, but Mia cuts me off with a snort.

“If that’s what you can call them.”

I smirk. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Go on…”

“They’re so boring, so routine, so...mediocre,” she says, seeming to forget her earlier embarrassment as her irritation with her less than stellar sex life takes over. “I mean, I never thought I could be bored with sex. But, Jake,” her eyes widen as if she’s horrified, “I am.”

I cluck my tongue sympathetically. My tongue that is about to get busy. “Mia, I hate to hear that. Because if anyone should be having fantastic orgasms, it’s you.”

I give her a knowing smile. See, Mia here runs a blog where she chronicles her exploits. I did my research—or rather, my protégé Toby did it and gave me the rundown—and Mia’s adventures on her blog have gotten worse by the week.

“I don’t know, Jake,” she says miserably. “Maybe I’m just past my prime. Maybe the best sex of my life is behind me.”

At this, I lean forward and grip her knees, squeezing gently. She gasps and bites her lip again, and I smile wider.

“That’s total fucking bullshit, Mia. You’re in your mid-thirties. You’re just now hitting your prime for fuck’s sake. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.” I look out at the audience, making sure my face shows just how earnestly I feel about this. “Every woman, no matter what her age, deserves to come really fucking hard as much and as often as she’d like.”

“I’m losing interest in dating, to be honest,” Mia continues with a sigh, but her knees have fallen apart just slightly, and I haven’t moved my hands away. “I even want to get married someday. But I need to know if it’s me. I need you to restore my faith, Jake. I need to know that orgasms can happen for me.”

“Mia,” I say, pitching my voice low and meeting her eyes as I let my fingers drift a little higher on her thighs. Her muscles twitch and her breath comes faster, and I know for a fact it’s not her. So I tell her. “You’ve just been sleeping with the wrong men. Tell me, what do you like? Do you like it slow? Fast? Do you like it hard?”

Mia swallows, her eyes clouding with lust. “I like it slow at first.” Her hands drift to her throat involuntarily and her lips part as her breath hitches. “Then I like it a little faster. Maybe a little harder.”

“Maybe?” I give her a wink and slide my hands even hi

gher, not even needing to push her legs apart because they’re just falling open for me.

A strangled moan escapes her lips. “Definitely harder.”

I chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” I brush my thumbs along her inner thighs. “What else Mia? What do you want?”