and women willing to use their assets to the fullest advantage, it
wouldn’t take five minutes for Tommy to assemble a line a mile long—brimming
with women who’d claw each other’s eyes out—to audition for a gig with that
kind of exposure. That kind of incentive.
“Yeah.”
I’d be lying if I said the opportunity didn’t intrigue me.
Not for the glory. Not for the money, but for the chance to experiment. “I’ve
never fucked onstage before.”
“Only you would make the perfect Star of Kinkmas. Will you
come with me? Talk to him?”
Well, shit, how can I say no when something in my gut is
doing flip-flops at the compliment. “Yes. But on one condition…”
“What’s that?” He cups my cheek in his hand as he smiles. I
think he might grant me all sorts of favors to earn my compliance.
“Let me thank you right.”
Act One
Tommy’s huge grin reveals a bleached-white grill too perfect
to be anything but artificial. His straight, even chompers cause me to imagine
the mogul eating me alive when Rick leads me into his boss’s office with one
hand on the small of my back. I justify the protective gesture by reminding
myself it’s his job. Triple X can’t afford to lose another performer.
If that’s what I’m to become tonight.
I’m still in shock. I snuffed my red light with plenty of
hours remaining before sunrise. One first in a night full of firsts. Most
notable so far, Rick departing my window with a boner he refused to permit me
to attend to. He’d declined my service, saying it made him uncomfortable.
Though he’d paid for the full hour, he didn’t want a gratitude fuck—didn’t want
to imply he’d had an ulterior motive for his gesture.
Damn him and his bizarre, misguided sense of honor! Doesn’t
he realize our abstinence punishes us both?
“Star!” Tommy steeples his fingers as he leans over his
obsidian and chrome desk. I ignore him staring at my breasts while I take a
seat in the modern chair Rick presents for me. “I didn’t think our boy had it
in him to convince you.”
“Clearly you underestimate him.” I begin to wonder if I’ve
made a mistake by coming here. “You should give him a raise.”
“Ah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? He’d visit you twice a
night then.”
Glare from the glass tabletops, the one-way mirror opening
to the stage below and even Tommy’s over-gelled ebony hair offend my eyes,
which are much more accustomed to the soft glow of my loft. I peer at the
framed stills of gluttonous debauchery, which have occurred under the blinding
lights below, and wince.
This is a mass-market sex production. I’m a craftsman who
delights in personal touches. I miss the ultimate control I have over the
universe through my window.
“In that case, yes, I would. Pleasing Rick pleases me. Do
you object?”
“Not at all, honey.” Tommy chuckles. “In fact, I assumed an
enterprising young lady of your caliber to be too far above the illusion of
glamour I manufacture. Most of my girls will never know the success you’ve
achieved. They dress up in naughty lingerie. Sensuality is part of your soul.
No gimmicks needed.”
“High praise from someone who’s never visited my window.”
Do I imagine Rick’s sigh of relief?
I think not. Interesting.
He’s never been the jealous type before. A half-dozen of his
friends at least have stopped by—informing me he supplied glowing
recommendations for my services—becoming somewhat-regular customers themselves.
“A benefit of being the boss.” Tommy smiles, not unkindly.
“Women flock to me, not the other way around. But Rick is hard to impress, and
there aren’t any who hold his attention as you do.”
To each his own. I’ve seen enough in my career to destroy
any judgmental tendencies I might have once possessed. If the casting couch
works for Tommy and his girls—or guys—so be it.
“So, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” I hate playing
games. Honest passion excites me, not the
wouldn’t take five minutes for Tommy to assemble a line a mile long—brimming
with women who’d claw each other’s eyes out—to audition for a gig with that
kind of exposure. That kind of incentive.
“Yeah.”
I’d be lying if I said the opportunity didn’t intrigue me.
Not for the glory. Not for the money, but for the chance to experiment. “I’ve
never fucked onstage before.”
“Only you would make the perfect Star of Kinkmas. Will you
come with me? Talk to him?”
Well, shit, how can I say no when something in my gut is
doing flip-flops at the compliment. “Yes. But on one condition…”
“What’s that?” He cups my cheek in his hand as he smiles. I
think he might grant me all sorts of favors to earn my compliance.
“Let me thank you right.”
Act One
Tommy’s huge grin reveals a bleached-white grill too perfect
to be anything but artificial. His straight, even chompers cause me to imagine
the mogul eating me alive when Rick leads me into his boss’s office with one
hand on the small of my back. I justify the protective gesture by reminding
myself it’s his job. Triple X can’t afford to lose another performer.
If that’s what I’m to become tonight.
I’m still in shock. I snuffed my red light with plenty of
hours remaining before sunrise. One first in a night full of firsts. Most
notable so far, Rick departing my window with a boner he refused to permit me
to attend to. He’d declined my service, saying it made him uncomfortable.
Though he’d paid for the full hour, he didn’t want a gratitude fuck—didn’t want
to imply he’d had an ulterior motive for his gesture.
Damn him and his bizarre, misguided sense of honor! Doesn’t
he realize our abstinence punishes us both?
“Star!” Tommy steeples his fingers as he leans over his
obsidian and chrome desk. I ignore him staring at my breasts while I take a
seat in the modern chair Rick presents for me. “I didn’t think our boy had it
in him to convince you.”
“Clearly you underestimate him.” I begin to wonder if I’ve
made a mistake by coming here. “You should give him a raise.”
“Ah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? He’d visit you twice a
night then.”
Glare from the glass tabletops, the one-way mirror opening
to the stage below and even Tommy’s over-gelled ebony hair offend my eyes,
which are much more accustomed to the soft glow of my loft. I peer at the
framed stills of gluttonous debauchery, which have occurred under the blinding
lights below, and wince.
This is a mass-market sex production. I’m a craftsman who
delights in personal touches. I miss the ultimate control I have over the
universe through my window.
“In that case, yes, I would. Pleasing Rick pleases me. Do
you object?”
“Not at all, honey.” Tommy chuckles. “In fact, I assumed an
enterprising young lady of your caliber to be too far above the illusion of
glamour I manufacture. Most of my girls will never know the success you’ve
achieved. They dress up in naughty lingerie. Sensuality is part of your soul.
No gimmicks needed.”
“High praise from someone who’s never visited my window.”
Do I imagine Rick’s sigh of relief?
I think not. Interesting.
He’s never been the jealous type before. A half-dozen of his
friends at least have stopped by—informing me he supplied glowing
recommendations for my services—becoming somewhat-regular customers themselves.
“A benefit of being the boss.” Tommy smiles, not unkindly.
“Women flock to me, not the other way around. But Rick is hard to impress, and
there aren’t any who hold his attention as you do.”
To each his own. I’ve seen enough in my career to destroy
any judgmental tendencies I might have once possessed. If the casting couch
works for Tommy and his girls—or guys—so be it.
“So, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” I hate playing
games. Honest passion excites me, not the
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