Hooked Up: Book 2 (23 page)

Anthony was still devouring his Danish. “A computer coder, huh?”

I took a sip of coffee. “That was what he led me to believe when I first met him. He’s very modest—it’s his French upbringing. He never discusses money or boasts about his wealth. He likes to make out he’s just a regular guy.”

“And what about Psycho Sister? Does she get a stake in this new company of yours?”

“Sophie? No, this has nothing to do with her.” I looked at my watch. “Oh my God, Anthony, speaking of my new company, I need to run or I’ll be late for my meeting. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Hell yeah, are you kidding? I get to play king of the castle.”

“Sorry, that’s Rex’s role, isn’t it sweetheart?” I said cupping Rex’s wide black head in my hands and giving him a kiss on the snout.

“Ha, ha, Rex means king in Latin—very cute.”

“Be good, big brother, and don’t get into mischief. If you need anything, Patricia can help. See you later.”

“Later, baby sis.”

T
HIS WAS MY first official meeting with a new client at HookedUp Enterprises. We had spoken several times on the phone already and even signed a preliminary deal, but this was the first time we were to meet face to face.

I was obviously nervous but felt poised in my sharp, navy blue suit and high heels. I was to meet a big Hollywood mogul named Samuel Myers—the old-school type who smoked a cigar and called women “sweetheart.” But he turned out to be friendly and easygoing. A little too much for my liking.

As I approached him, he looked me up and down but then his eyes wandered to my engagement ring and he cleared his throat as if to say, “okay, never mind.” I smiled at him. I was used to these types; one of my first jobs was a stint in LA as a casting director’s assistant. This man didn’t faze me at all.

He had been waiting for me in our lobby, a cool, modern space with vast opaque glass doors that smoothly opened as you approached them. We shook hands and introduced ourselves, and I led him into my office. The windows here looked down onto Fifty Seventh Street. There was a large glass desk and sleek sofas and chairs, all in off-white or cool-gray leather. It was the antithesis of Alexandre’s apartment. Here we were talking state-of-the-art, Italian—very contemporary.

Just as Samuel Myers had eased himself into one of the brand new designer couches, and I had sat myself down and crossed my legs neatly on my swivel chair, my cell buzzed. I looked down and saw a message had come in from Alexandre. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist. I quickly read it.

Just remembering you naked on the bed this morning has made me hard. Can’t stop thinking about your tits and ass and making you come. Can’t wait to get home and fuck you senseless.
 
X

Bastard–he knew exactly what time this meeting was. He had ways of keeping me in check. Or was it another test? To see if I’d break? See if I’d be able to remain composed. A second ago I had been cool and poised. Now I felt a rush of adrenaline and heat surge through my body. I squeezed my legs together.
Uh oh, no, I mustn’t do that or you-know-what could happen.
My heart was racing from Alexandre’s schoolboy message, my breath short.
Who would think that a forty-year-old could be knocked out like this every time the one she loves comes on to her?
But 40 is just a number, I reminded myself. In my twenties forty seemed like light years away. I had once imagined a forty-year-old to have all the answers, to never lose her self-possession—a grown-up. But I found out that it wasn’t like that when you were in love. Especially when it caught you off guard the way it had for me. My barriers had come crashing down. I was a woman when I met Alexandre and he had changed me into a teenager within a few seconds of meeting him.

Get a grip, Pearl.

I switched off my cell so I couldn’t be distracted again and continued my conversation with this important producer. I took a deep breath and said, “I read the script changes.” Samuel Myers was lounging comfortably—his weighty body spread out like a sea lion. “I think they’re great,” I added.

“I’m so pleased,” he replied with a grin.

I sat erect and tried to turn my imagination into a blank canvas, to erase the image of Alexandre and his erection. “I know we signed on this project already but have you considered the leads going to women?” I asked calmly.

The producer’s eyebrows shot up. “W
omen?”

“Yes, women.”

“But, sweetheart, this is a
buddy
movie.”

“Flipping gender roles works in a buddy movie. Think about
Thelma and Louise
. It beyond worked—it’s a classic. You get my point.”

He templed his fat, sausage-like fingers. “I hadn’t even considered that.”

“Would you like to think about it? Sleep on it?”

He got up and padded his heavy frame over to the high window and looked down onto the street below. The usual background of New York City could be heard, muted by the thick triple-glazed windows, but still evident.
The sirens never sleep, not in Manhattan.
People below were rushing this way and that like ants on a mission. Samuel Myers snorted. “What are you saying? That if I don’t consider the leads going to actresses, you’ll be unhappy?”

“Let’s just say that HookedUp Enterprises will be less enthusiastic about doing future projects with you unless we feel we can make our mark. We want to put our stamp on the movie industry—shake things up a bit, not just churn out the usual run-of-the-mill, same-old-same-old blockbuster. We’d like to see more females in lead roles and less ageism when it comes to actresses. There’s no reason why beautiful leading women have to be in their twenties. That message is getting worn and tired, and frankly, you’re losing a big chunk of the audience that way.”

“Oh.”

I edged towards this powerful man and said, “There are some amazing, very sexy actresses in their forties: Charlize Theron, Jennifer Aniston, Cameron Diaz, Cate Blanchett, Gwyneth Paltrow, Nicole Kidman, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Lucy Liu—”

“Lucy Liu is Asian.”

“So? She’d be right for the part of Sunny. She’s beautiful as well as feisty.”

“I don’t know, I can’t afford two names, Pearl.”

I kept talking. “Those are just the big stars. There’s a lot of other talent out there, too.”

I could hear his heavy, considered breathing.

“There’s nothing in that script that dictates to us that a man should play those roles,” I went on, “a woman can kick ass just as easily, excuse the expression. I see
women
playing those parts.”

“Okay, Pearl, let me think this through. I need to make some calls. This has taken me by surprise. Quite a ball-buster, aren’t you?”

“No, Mr. Myers, I’m a pussycat.”

He looked at my ring and then said, “Does your fiancé know what he’s letting himself in for?”

“No, he doesn’t. I thought I’d surprise him.”

He chuckled. “Call me Sam, by the way.”

I shook hands with him to denote the end of the meeting. I mean, there really wasn’t much more to discuss—either he went for my pitch or he didn’t. “Okay, Sam, let’s take a rain check. Call me as soon as you’ve thought this over.”

“So you’re not flexible on this woman thing?” he asked.

“I’m always flexible but the ‘woman thing,’ as you describe it, is an important factor, like it or not. We females do make up almost half of the world’s population, and we’re pretty bored of playing second fiddle all the time.”

“A feminist.”

“Not a feminist, just a woman. But you can’t be a woman in today’s world without busting the odd ball here or there.” I gave him a wry smile and he laughed. “We’ll talk later,” I said assertively. “Call me.”

I walked him to the elevator and, when he was out of sight, punched my fists in the air. “Yes!” I had never imagined he’d even
consider
letting the roles go to women. I called Alexandre to tell him the good news. No answer. He must be in the air, I realized. As I passed back by the lobby, Jeanine, our receptionist, an ice-cool brunette who matched the décor perfectly she was so glamorous, told me in a husky voice. “Pearl, there’s a video clip waiting for you.”

Alexandre and I had instructed everyone who worked here to call us by our first names. No pretentions. We wanted to make everyone at HookedUp Enterprises feel like extended family.

“Samuel Myers brought in a video? He forgot to mention that.”

“No, your fiancé,” she said emphasizing the F of fiancé.

“Alexandre? When?”

He called me ten minutes ago. You weren’t picking up, he said. Check your email. There should be a video in one of your messages.”

“Thank you, Jeanine.”

“You’re welcome.”

I
COULDN’T STOP thinking about Pearl. Her image, plus the jet’s rumbling and vibrations on the runway before takeoff, were making me fucking horny. I locked the door of my cabin, my cock aching for an orgasm—Pearl fresh in my mind like a haunting painting or photograph that has impacted your soul. It reminded me of my teenage years when I had sex on the brain constantly. That’s what Pearl was doing to me.

I undid my jeans and my erection sprang free.
Wait,
I thought, getting my phone out of my pocket.
I’ll share this with her—make sure she thinks about me while I’m gone. She and I are in this together.

I remembered entering her from behind, just that morning, fisting her hair to hold her where I wanted her, her soaked core welcoming me as I crammed her full, unable to control myself, fucking her probably too hard considering how tight she felt. But she still crumbled beneath me, her pussy clenching in a shuddering climax as she dug her nails into the mattress, pushing her butt closer against me . . . always closer. Both of us craved that intense proximity.

I lay back on the bed in my cabin and put my phone on record mode, holding it close to my huge erection. Then I panned up to my face so she could see my lustful expression. This wasn’t going to be live; I’d send it to her when I landed—a little porn movie for her own pleasure.
A keepsake,
for when we’re old, doddery and gray and I won’t be able to get it up any more.

“I’m thinking of you, chérie,” I began, my hand clamped around my stiff cock, “—I should have abducted you and brought you with me.” I licked my lips, thinking of her mouth sucking me, flicking her teasing tongue over the broad head of my crest, making me come. “I’ve got your hot, wet, pearlette in my mind’s eye, Pearl, and the expression on your beautiful face when you come for me. Your hard, peaked nipples when I suck them, when I lick you, when I stretch you open and fuck you really hard.”

I moved my hand up and down, tight on my massive erection, jerking it hastily and remembering how, just the day before, I’d come in her mouth, fucking it slowly, and how incredible it felt.

“When I get home, baby, I’m going to tease you with my cock, bend you over and flutter my tongue against your clit. Just the tip of my tongue. You’ll be begging me for more and I’ll make you wait till you’re moaning with anticipation.”

What I was doing in that moment felt good but nothing compared to the real thing. I imagined Pearl when she received this little film, would be sitting in her office chair, legs wide open, fingers inside herself, her other hand massaging her clit, and how I wish I could be there to enter her slowly, the head of my thick cock pushing into her just an inch, then withdrawing and teasing her sensitized cleft, then ramming my whole length into her wet warmth, fucking her hard, then tantalizing her clit again. Over and over, I’d do this, until she was begging for me to fuck her, screaming for me, crying out for her release.

My cock twitched, its broad crown wet with lust. “I’m going to fuck your clit, Pearl, with the tip of my cock, rim it around and around and then cram you full, baby. I’ll slip my way in, just an inch, no more. Then thrust it all the way, hard, and then pull almost out. Then tease you again, just a centimeter inside. You won’t know when I’m going to slam you. Maybe I’ll pump you good and hard, maybe I won’t. You’ll be screaming for me to fuck you.”

My pulse quickened and my breath came heavily—I could feel my impending orgasm about to explode. My fingers squeezed like a vice around the wide crest of my cock and then all the way down to its thick root. “All I can think about is fucking you. I. Love. Fucking. You. Pearl. I love fucking you hard, fucking you really slow.”

Semen spurted out in a hot rush as the image of Pearl’s tits and ass brought harmonies, musical notes of bliss swirling about my brain in an abstract pattern. Like the crescendo of a beautiful aria. Her tits, ass, pussy, nipples, mouth; all one giant billboard in my head. A knock on my cabin door jerked my climax into a tsunami of a wave, coursing through me, and flooding over in abandon.

“I’m coming,” I shouted out.
And how.

The flight attendant said, “Sir, I need you to buckle-up for takeoff.”

I was taking off, all right. Really taking off. “Coming,” I said again and grinned at the irony of my words.

I
WENT BACK into my office and looked through my emails. An attachment. I clicked on it. I simultaneously laughed and covered my mouth with my hand in shock. I should have been used to this by now, but Alexandre’s shenanigans still took me by surprise. He was lying on a bed in the private jet. Then the focus zoomed in on his huge penis taking up the whole screen. He must have shot this with his iPhone. There it was: smooth as silk in its full glory, hard and thick as granite, the head proud. His hand gripped it as he lay on the bed, propped up against cushions—the self-held camera panning up—he was languidly seductive, his eyes half closed, his tongue running lustfully along his dark red lips. I heard his deep voice. “Chérie, I’m on the plane before takeoff, in this private cabin, thinking of you, kicking myself that I didn’t force you to come with me today. I miss you already.”

I was hot and felt a throb between my legs. The sight of Alexandre’s huge erection had my heart beating fast, my whole body tingling. I pressed my fingers on my clit and gave it a hard push. Oh yeah. I looked at the screen and was transfixed as he fondled himself and started moving his gripped hand tightly around his cock.