Her voice is teasing, but she’s still all business. It’s an intriguing combination. Suddenly I’m desperate to know what Layla’s sex life is like. She’s not lacking for confidence. That usually makes for a woman who’s up for anything. I’d love to see her drop the professional tone and let me see what she’s really like underneath that prim exterior. I’d bet my last dollar she’s a fucking freak in the bedroom.
My cock twitches, and I sigh in frustration. I want to get this shit over with and see if Layla’s up for some fun once she’s out of work mode.
&nbs
p; I rub my hands together. “Okay, let’s do this. Why am I being fined?”
“Obscenity, Jacob.”
“Jake,” I tell her again. “And since when is helping people obscene?”
“Helping people? Is that what you call it? Because all I see is you helping yourself to an all you can eat buffet night after night.” Layla gives me a fake smile. “But don’t worry, Jacob dear, I’m sure you’ll still get plenty of dates once your show is canceled. You do have a reputation. It will get you somewhere with the ladies.”
I laugh incredulously. She’s serious. She actually thinks ACL is obscene? Maybe a little unconventional, but not obscene.
“Look,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and standing up straighter, “my show helps people. I fucking help people. Hell, it might even save marriages. It wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe a couple tunes in one night and their sex life is changed forever. Maybe they were on the brink of divorce until I inspired them to greater things. If people don’t like the show, they can change the fucking channel.”
Layla looks taken aback by my tirade, so I try to soften my expression. “I don’t mean to be an ass, but I really care about what I do. It means something to me.”
It does. I’m not bullshitting her. Sex is fucking important. Good sex especially. Vital, really. I don’t know why she thinks my show is obscene, but I suddenly want to show her just how important my job can be. If she could only see behind the scenes, I know she’d come around.
Wait. Back up there. Was that just a genius idea or what? Fuck yes, that's exactly what I’m going to do.
“Layla,” I say, much calmer now that I know just what I’m going to do. About the fine. About Layla. About the raging hard-on I desperately need to attend to. “ACL is about to go on a 4-week filming hiatus. Why don’t you stick around for a while and see how we prepare for the next episode. If you still feel the same way about the show then as you do now, I’ll pay the seven-million-dollar fine.”
Seven million dollars is nothing to laugh at, but it’s almost a drop in the bucket compared to the money I’ve made on my show. It’s the principle of it that gets me. All these people who want to be so self-righteous about sex. Fuck that.
Layla considers my offer as she watches me, and I can practically see the wheels turning. She wants to know my angle. Thing is, there is none. I totally believe everything I’ve said.
“You realize the fine is per incident?” she asks with a smirk.
Fuck.
“Fine. Not a problem.”
No fucking way will I pay that fine. I’m going to convince Layla one way or another that there’s nothing obscene about what I do. And getting in her panties sounds like the perfect place to start pleading my case. My cock couldn’t agree more.
Layla
“Mm-hmm,” I say into the phone as I walk around my temporary apartment, my mind not fully on the things Lori is saying. I’m too distracted by the opulence of this luxury apartment the FCC has put me up in while I’m working on the ACL case.
Lori continues talking about the importance of getting the show canceled. How she has to make sure the airwaves are safe for families. Blah, blah, blah. I love Lori, I do. And I respect her. But Jesus Christ, she really needs to get laid. Maybe she’s forgotten what it’s like to cum your brains out.
Grabbing my mug of coffee, I step out onto the balcony overlooking the Upper East Side. These people set me up with some of the swankiest shit I’ve ever seen. I’m literally looking out over Central Park while I have my morning coffee.
“Layla, are you even listening?” Lori says.
Shit. What did she just say? As I’m hurriedly replaying the conversation in my head, I hear the door buzz inside.
“Of course I am, Lori. Look,” I add, attempting to smooth this over so she doesn’t realize I zoned out a long time ago. “Someone’s at the door. Hang on a minute.”
I go back in and cross to the door, not bothering to look before I open it. This building has top-notch security, so the only people who could be up here are staff. Sure enough, a sexy bellboy type I’ve seen around the building has a package for me.
My eyes drop down to the very obvious boner he’s sporting. Two packages, it seems. That’s when I realize I’m wearing nothing more than a sheer little scrap of fabric that makes me look like I’m straight off the pages of Frederick’s of Hollywood. Oops. And yes, I wear sexy lingerie around the house. Don’t you? If not, you totally should. You’ve gotta set the stage, babe, if you want to get some.
“Thanks,” I tell him with a wink and a suggestive smile—because why not? He’s hot, and maybe later when I’m feeling a little hot he might be up for the challenge of cooling me off. Gotta look out for my needs, right?
I sign my name with a flourish on the clipboard he’s holding, then shut the door and carry the package over to my couch. It’s a large envelope, all official looking, with Jake’s studio listed as the sender.