Falling for My Dirty Uncle

Gossip Central on Page Eight. From the Desk of Vicky Durner - All the gossip you never even knew you needed to know!

Well, well, well. Looks like a certain bad boy billionaire of New York is trying to be more of a man and less of a frog. But is this just an act?

Good morning Gotham. That’s the question that millions of people around the city are undoubtedly asking themselves after seeing real estate mogul Magnus Davion in an environment that he’s not normally associated with—a charity gala.

That’s right New Yorkers. You read that right and you’re eyes are not playing tricks on you. Magnus Davion – self proclaimed bad boy of New York City – was spotted at a charity gala. He didn't get into any fights. He didn't pull down his pants and wave his rather large … appendage … in the faces of the elite. He didn't get drunk and fall asleep. He didn’t even do anything that makes watching him so revoltingly addictive.

Instead, he behaved himself as he mingled with the crowd, often charming and engaging those around him. He spent a fair amount of time according to my spies with his mystery date—a woman who we still haven't been able to figure out an identity for, but know was very good looking. And he delivered a speech that received a standing ovation.

Excuse me for saying the obvious, but that behavior is not acceptable for someone who wants to be known as a loud, obnoxious, boorish clown. It’s also not becoming of the poster child for immature man-child.

So, could Magnus Davion be growing up? Could he be evolving into a higher level of consciousness – the kind of higher level consciousness that usually occurs as people grow out of adolescence and become adults?

Citizens of Gotham, let's not hold our breath.

What's more likely to this jaded gossip col

umnist is that Magnus Davion is trying to clean up his image. Trying to make himself more palatable to the millions of hard working, decent, and God-fearing New Yorkers who have to put up with shenanigans on a day-to-day basis. And that public relations executive who got the Magnus Davion account probably put together a portfolio of charity galas, dinners, fundraisers, and photo ops all designed to make us think that this man is really a good guy instead of just another rich asshole.

And you know what? With enough of these, we probably will think he’s a good guy.

We’ll probably forget how Magnus Davion got drunk one night and urinated in a restaurant fountain as people were eating dinner last month.

We’ll probably forget how he was filmed receiving fellatio in his Maserati as he sped down Fifth Avenue earlier this year.

We’ll probably forget how he got upset at a cable company call center representative who was unhelpful to him, which led him to buy the cable company itself just to fire that individual. It happened last year, but I bet you’ve already forgotten, haven’t you, New York?

I’m willing to bet that’s the plan, New York. We’ll just have to see what happens. You can bet we’ll keep reporting.

Until then, keep your ears to the ground, New York. I'll be listening!

Magnus

“Magnus to Earth! Magnus to Earth!” Joyce says, repeating that sentence over and over again until she finally slams the palm of her hand onto my desk. I sit up straight, cough into my hand, and nod at her, trying to pretend I was listening to her all along, which I fucking wasn’t, of course. After that night with Penny, focusing on anything is just outright impossible.

“I’m here,” I tell her, and she just sighs and throws the latest New York Daily Journal on top of the desk. She looks at me with a self-satisfied smile, pointing at the newspaper.

“Like I was saying, it seems that the tides are turning.”

“Indeed they are,” I whisper, leaning back against my chair and propping my feet up on the desk. I grab the newspaper and head straight to the Gossip Central column. I’ve already read the newspaper on my way to the office, but a second pass won’t hurt. It feels good to read something different; usually all I get is hate. “You were right, Joyce, this gala thing really helped out.”

“Of course I was right. That’s what you pay me for,” she says, slightly offended, and then she smiles. “Anyway, you’re pretty cheery today. Anything you wanna share?”

“I’m always fucking cheery, Joyce.” I stretch my arms, taking my feet out from the desk and swiveling around on the chair. I look out into the vast New York skyline; the concrete jungle sprawled right under me. Joyce would fucking kill me if she knew what I was up to last Friday night. I mean, she’s a fucking lawyer, she knows how to get away with murder.

“Yeah, I’m just asking because when you’re this happy … that usually means trouble is heading our way.”

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking killjoy.”

“That’s what you pay me for as well.”

“Really funny, Joyce, you should’ve been a comedian instead of a lawyer.” She starts replying, but by the time the words get out of her mouth, my mind has already drifted off again.

I can’t stop thinking about Penny, about how it felt to brush my fingertips over her smooth (and oh-so-very-naked) skin—my hands on her hips, my cock deep inside her tight pussy, the warmness of her body, the strawberry flavor of her kisses. I want that again—no, I fucking need it, even more than I need air to breathe. Even though I know we shouldn’t have crossed that line, I can’t stop myself from wanting to do it again.

You must think I’m a terrible guy, huh? To go around fucking my stepdaughter and all that. But you saw what she did; Penny’s not innocent in this whole affair. I should’ve resisted, maybe … but fuck, I’m only human.

“Magnus? Are you even here?” I hear Joyce’s voice again, her words cutting through the fog that’s clouding my mind, and I turn to her.