clueless.
“Right, the panty dropper,” I began. “He’s that guy, everyone knows him.” I nod my head enthusiastically, as if what I’m saying actually means something. “He’s that really famous guy, he’s rich, successful…” Looking at the picture, I could just see panties falling out of his pocket because he was so successful. At his job. Selling panties?
I could already hear Alexa and Bethany across the conference table snickering at me as I spun my wheels.
Kait let out a deep, disappointed sigh. She leaned across the table and took the picture from before me. “This, as most of you know, is Leo Armstrong, twenty-seven, the most sought-after bachelor in all of L.A. and the head of relative newcomer Epix Studios.”
“Also their youngest head in history,” said Bethany. Unlike me, she was dressed simply and fashionably in a slim, cap-sleeved green dress. I tugged on the collar of my shirt, a new level of discomfort filling me.
“I’d like to give him head,” muttered Alexa, and none too quietly either. They barely tried to stifle their laughs.
Kait ignored them. “Leo Armstrong is the president of Epix Studios. Every girl L.A., from the fledging starlet to the seasoned Oscar winner wants to sleep with him or at least get an audition with him—”
“On his couch,” said Alexa, and Bethany swatted her arm.
“And of all the women he’s dated,” Kait continued, “and there have been a lot, no one knows anything about him personally. There’s never been even the tiniest whisper of what it’s like to date him. He’s the most famous person in this town and no one knows what he’s really like. We’re going to change that.” Her sharp eyes took in all the women at the table. Then she said, “One of you is going to date Leo Armstrong.”
A hush fell over the room. No one was laughing anymore.
Even though I didn’t know these women—I didn’t even know all their names, save for Bethany, Alexa and Renee, the girl who sat next me, studiously taking notes—I realized I was excited for them. If this guy were some famous Hollywood big shot, plus totally hot, it would be a fun story to work on. Who wouldn’t want to date a rich famous guy and write about it? My dating experience was limited, relegated to Paul, who I dated for a couple of years in college, and who cheated on me. The worst part was, he wasn’t even that good looking. I’d spent my college years so focused on my studies so that I could get a great job as soon as I graduated. Now I saw the irony of limited dating experience as I sat in the offices of a magazine dedicated to the art of the blow job.
“This guy is the classic womanizer,” Kait said. “He dates, and discards, one after another. But what goes on behind closed doors? That’s what Crush is going to find out. I want to know everything about him, and not just boring things like how he takes his coffee and if he snores. I want to know how he treats these women. Does he bother acting like a gentleman? Is he boring? Selfish? Does he have something to say? Is he more than just good looks and loads of money? How big is his dick?”
Everybody burst into laughter, and I tried to chuckle appreciatively, as I felt my face flush yet again.
“Everyone in L.A. wants to date this guy,” said Renee. “You said so yourself. But how does anyone get that date? How are we going to infiltrate this guy’s world and get him to take one of us out on a date?”
“Multiple dates,” Bethany said, and when Alexa gave her a look, she said, “No, seriously. You can’t write an exposé off of one date.”
“Yeah, not to mention the fact that there’s no way Leo Armstrong is going to date a journalist ,” Alexa said. “A celebrity dating a journalist would be like a compulsive eater dating a chef. Leo would never trust a writer, and so we’re shot in the foot before we even get started.”
“Plus,” Renee said, “how do we get that first meeting?” she asked to Kait.
“Right, the panty dropper,” I began. “He’s that guy, everyone knows him.” I nod my head enthusiastically, as if what I’m saying actually means something. “He’s that really famous guy, he’s rich, successful…” Looking at the picture, I could just see panties falling out of his pocket because he was so successful. At his job. Selling panties?
I could already hear Alexa and Bethany across the conference table snickering at me as I spun my wheels.
Kait let out a deep, disappointed sigh. She leaned across the table and took the picture from before me. “This, as most of you know, is Leo Armstrong, twenty-seven, the most sought-after bachelor in all of L.A. and the head of relative newcomer Epix Studios.”
“Also their youngest head in history,” said Bethany. Unlike me, she was dressed simply and fashionably in a slim, cap-sleeved green dress. I tugged on the collar of my shirt, a new level of discomfort filling me.
“I’d like to give him head,” muttered Alexa, and none too quietly either. They barely tried to stifle their laughs.
Kait ignored them. “Leo Armstrong is the president of Epix Studios. Every girl L.A., from the fledging starlet to the seasoned Oscar winner wants to sleep with him or at least get an audition with him—”
“On his couch,” said Alexa, and Bethany swatted her arm.
“And of all the women he’s dated,” Kait continued, “and there have been a lot, no one knows anything about him personally. There’s never been even the tiniest whisper of what it’s like to date him. He’s the most famous person in this town and no one knows what he’s really like. We’re going to change that.” Her sharp eyes took in all the women at the table. Then she said, “One of you is going to date Leo Armstrong.”
A hush fell over the room. No one was laughing anymore.
Even though I didn’t know these women—I didn’t even know all their names, save for Bethany, Alexa and Renee, the girl who sat next me, studiously taking notes—I realized I was excited for them. If this guy were some famous Hollywood big shot, plus totally hot, it would be a fun story to work on. Who wouldn’t want to date a rich famous guy and write about it? My dating experience was limited, relegated to Paul, who I dated for a couple of years in college, and who cheated on me. The worst part was, he wasn’t even that good looking. I’d spent my college years so focused on my studies so that I could get a great job as soon as I graduated. Now I saw the irony of limited dating experience as I sat in the offices of a magazine dedicated to the art of the blow job.
“This guy is the classic womanizer,” Kait said. “He dates, and discards, one after another. But what goes on behind closed doors? That’s what Crush is going to find out. I want to know everything about him, and not just boring things like how he takes his coffee and if he snores. I want to know how he treats these women. Does he bother acting like a gentleman? Is he boring? Selfish? Does he have something to say? Is he more than just good looks and loads of money? How big is his dick?”
Everybody burst into laughter, and I tried to chuckle appreciatively, as I felt my face flush yet again.
“Everyone in L.A. wants to date this guy,” said Renee. “You said so yourself. But how does anyone get that date? How are we going to infiltrate this guy’s world and get him to take one of us out on a date?”
“Multiple dates,” Bethany said, and when Alexa gave her a look, she said, “No, seriously. You can’t write an exposé off of one date.”
“Yeah, not to mention the fact that there’s no way Leo Armstrong is going to date a journalist ,” Alexa said. “A celebrity dating a journalist would be like a compulsive eater dating a chef. Leo would never trust a writer, and so we’re shot in the foot before we even get started.”
“Plus,” Renee said, “how do we get that first meeting?” she asked to Kait.
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