Dirty Daddy

I take one deep breath, and acting as solemnly as I can, I let go of his hair and sit up. The audition is over. It’s just the first step in a long ladder of strategic moves, but it’s done at least. And I think I nailed it, although I started my little show feeling as confident as I could, I have to admit I was a bit afraid of screwing the whole thing up.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” I merely say, dismounting him as I speak. It almost hurts to do it, but I have to act as coldly as I can. Acting like a true professional, my personality goes from lewd and seductive to straightforward; my audition is done. I turn my back to Ethan and pick my bra and dress from the floor; as if nothing happened, I get dressed as casually as possible. He remains frozen in place, unmoving, and I’m sure that a river of raging adrenaline is still coursing through his veins.

As I walk back to my seat, I can’t help but look at him once again. Looking back over my shoulder, I smile and give him a wink for good measure. I know he’s going to be thinking of me for the rest of the day, and that’s exactly what I want.

Even though Ethan is just a target, one thing is for sure: he’s going to be in my dreams tonight. And I can’t wait to meet him there.

112

Ethan

"I'd say girls 25, 26, and 27 were our strongest candidate," Joel says, an eager smile plastered across his face. He's leaning back in his chair, his arms held above his head. He's swiveling back and forth. He seems pretty happy with the turnout at the audition. And I am too.

Of course he'd list girls 25 and 27, I think to myself. They fucking had their lips wrapped around his fucking cock, and he sure didn't hide the fact that he was enjoying it. He was anything but shy. He was downright eager. But if it were up to me, I'd say girl 26 was the hottest fucking prospect.

How does Joel not see that? Maybe because she was in my lap, not his. That ass. Those legs. Those smoldering eyes framed by a waterfall of blonde hair that flows down to her shoulders. I mean, the woman gave my cock its own heartbeat for god's sake!

What more can I ask for? And whom am I kidding? Of course it's up to me who we hire. It's my fucking company. I'll hire whomever the fuck I want to.

"I'm telling you, girl number 26 is a star waiting to fucking happen," I say with total conviction. I put my hands up in the air, palms up, in a gesture that says this is a no-brainer. "I don't even know why we're still having this discussion."

"Is she a star, or does this have to do with the fact that she seemed to be all over you during that audition?" Joel asks. "I mean, she only had eyes for you. She never once looked in my direction or acknowledged my existence. In fact, the entire room didn't exist to her—if it wasn't for your presence."

I nearly roll my eyes. "Don't sound so jealous Joel," I laugh.

"Are you guys referring to Brittney?" Cheryl asks me, looking down at her stack of papers. She looks up and eyes me suspiciously because I'm not normally in these meetings. It's like she's known me long enough to have a sixth sense or something. I know what she's thinking too. She's looking at me like some overprotective mother hen. I have to play it cool, like I really don't give a fuck about woman number 26, just to keep her from giving me that fucking annoying sideways glance of hers.

"We also have those twins… Bella and Ella… that could make for some interesting video shots and story lines," Joel chimes in. "That's every guy's fantasy, isn't it?"

"The two brunettes? Speak for yourself. You think just because they're twins with big tits that they'd be perfect for Illicit Entertainment? That they're star material? Please. Give me a fucking break. They're boring. They're predictable," I yawn.

"What's with you this week?" Cheryl asks. "You're acting different."

"Because I give a shit about who's cast this month? There's nothing fucking different about me. Illicit Entertainment is my brainchild. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure we cast a real star this month? We have a lot fucking riding on our new technology. We've sunk millions into it. We're taking this company into the next fucking century and beyond—now's not the time to take our foot off the gas pedal."

This seems to make sense to her—or maybe she's still wrapping her head around it all—but she shrugs her shoulders. She looks back at her clipboard and reads through the audition list again.

"OK, so does this mean that women numbers 25 and 27—Ella and Bella—are out?" Cheryl asks.

"Why can't we just bring on all three?" Joel suggests. He clearly doesn't want to let those girls go.

I sigh and continue to make my case. "Of course it means they're out, Cheryl. And Joel, if this were simply about bringing on more women—sure, we could hire all three. Hell, we could hire a thousand in the next hour! But let's remember what we set out to do with this audition. Are you forgetting? The point was to find the industry's next big star—a super star for our new platform! And a star isn't predictable. She has an almost ethereal quality that hooks you in. Do you understand what I'm saying here? She carries a unique, dynamic draw. She's sexy, but confident. She's the woman who's just beyond your reach."

"Ok, we get it," Joel says. "She needs to be some creature of almost mythical status."

"No, that's not it," I continue. "It's real simple. This next star needs to be Brittney. She showed us that she had it all during her audition. The smoking hot body. The penetrating gaze. The fucking attitude. It's the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. She was a woman on a mission, and we can fulfill that mission. Look—let's hire her. You'll see what kind of porn-star material that she is. And you'll feel ridiculous for ever doubting me."

Joel nods at me in agreement, but Cheryl doesn't seem totally convinced yet.

"Why was she so laser focused on you, Ethan?" Cheryl says. "Doesn't that seem odd?"

"Cheryl, you're overanalyzing this," I say. "It's not fucking odd at all. This is a porn audition we're talking about. She did what she needed to do."

"Okay, I trust you," Cheryl nods.

I'm glad they finally agree, but do they really have a choice? Not if they still want their jobs. It's nice to have them on the same page, but at the end of the day, I don't need their approval. I look down at my Apple watch. Not only has it been buzzing non-stop with emails from the press regarding Illicit Escape announcement—it seems everyone and their mother wants to give it a whirl—but my watch also shows me that it's 11:05. I'm five minutes late to my next meeting.

"You'll have to excuse me," I say. I push my chair back and stand up. I fix my suit coat and straighten my silk tie. "This has been productive, don't you think? It's going to be a great month."