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Chapter 1
Max
Another day, another woman screws on camera for money.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It pays my bills, and it’s how my father spent the last thirty years building his empire.
As the heir to White Lace Productions, it’s my responsibility to find the hottest and most willing women in the city. It’s what I do, and I’m damn good at it.
I wrapped my hand around the front door handle to the 24-hour café and stepped into the bright light of the establishment. My director, and best friend, Ben Lockwood, by my side, as he has been since we were four years old.
“This is definitely your most creative attempt at finding new talent.” Ben cleared his throat beside me.
I clapped him on the shoulder, his shaggy blond hair catching under my fingers. “Madam assured me these are her best girls. This is going to work.”
I’d never been more sure about anything in my life and if I could have given myself an award for innovation, I would have. Not to mention, this was an untapped resource. A way to prove to my father that I had what it took to take over White Lace.
When you grow up with sex toys in the family room, half-naked women at your breakfast table, and lose your virginity to a porn star at sixteen, there’s no question you’ll follow in your father’s footsteps. Besides, what red-blooded male wouldn’t want to work in porn? Not many, and I owed it to every single one of them to make the most if it.
“Can I help you?” A blond-haired hostess greeted us with a pretty smile from her perch behind the desk.
“We’re meeting some…friends.” I quirked my eyebrow. “I believe the reservation is under Jade.”
A working girl’s name, no question. But when selling sex for money, pseudonyms were an occupational must.
The hostess motioned to two women sitting on opposite sides of a booth. I nodded and thanked her for her help.
I strode across the café checking out my surroundings. It was your typical establishment. The far wall was lined with booths, the benches covered in easy-wipe brown plastic. Wood tables and matching chairs sat in the middle. The seating area was sectioned off with a metal railing from the order counter, where a large refrigerated showcase housed many delicious-looking desserts. My eye caught on a chocolate cheesecake. Thanks to my mother, I had a weakness for all things sweet. It’s a good thing I spent a lot of time running on the track.
Ben’s voice carried over my shoulder. “It still surprises me that our business meetings consist of meeting as many girls as we can and asking them to take off their clothes.”
Although tonight was only a meet-and-greet, before I offered a contract, I had to inspect the merchandise. It used to be my favorite part of the job. Don’t get me wrong; at first, I was as giddy as a thirteen-year-old boy finding his first Penthouse magazine, but then it got old. Boring. Mundane. There was no excitement in it anymore. A naked woman was just as enticing as a root canal.
And wasn’t that just completely fucked-up.
I turned to my friend. “Just think, if you had been best friends with Chuck Bannon instead of me, you’d be an investment banker right now.”
Ben laughed at the mention of the former third wheel in our childhood trio. Chuck’s father had landed a great job with a top-notch investment firm in New York and they’d moved away, never to be heard from again.
Being the son of the late porn star Lana Lane, and Hirsh Levin, the owner of White Lace Productions, the biggest producer of adult films in the country, my future had been predetermined, and what kind of guy would I be if I hadn’t brought along my best friend. But I knew even if we hadn’t been friends, Ben still would have been a director. Our childhood consisted of him videotaping everything. I had been the star alien in many a Lockwood production.
We approached the table and an attractive woman with fiery red hair shot us a flirty smile.
“You must be Mr. Levin.” She held out her hand. Long, red nails stabbed me in the palm—they were just as fake as her breasts—and it was about the only thing memorable about her handshake. Her fingers and hand went limp inside my grip.
“And you would be…” I was here to see two girls tonight. Two of Madam G’s top bookings.
“Stella. Please, join us.” She motioned to the bench. She was about thirty, or had lived a hard twenty-five years, if not.
“I’m Jade.” The second girl held out her hand, green eyes sparkling up at me—the color of…jade. “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Levin.”
She was much younger than Stella. Her auburn hair hung over her shoulders. Her lips were plump and a subtle shade of pink. Her tits, a perfect handful. She was the girl-next-door that had been plucked from the shopping mall and turned into every man’s fantasy. She was exactly the type of girl I was looking for. Something about the stereotypical-looking porn star just didn’t do it for me. Unfortunately, it was women who looked like Stella that my father preferred.
Although I had the final say in the girls who signed contracts, there was a distinct look my father wanted in his stars. A look that hadn’t changed since his entrance into the industry in the 1980s, but I was making room for both our visions.
“This is our director, Ben Lockwood.” Ben had complete creative control and was in charge of every piece of film and photo White Lace put out for sale. He hired his own staff, other directors and photographers, who held the same vision.
He extended his hand to Stella, but I noticed his eyes were on Jade. “I’m going to grab us some drinks. Ladies…?”
“Vanilla latte,” Jade replied.
&
nbsp; “Regular coffee, just cream,” Stella answered.
Ben nodded and left us.
“Thank you for meeting with me tonight.” I liked to meet potential talent in person. It gave me a chance to weed out the crazies. As much as I hated myself for it, I needed girls who were responsible and serious about building a career. I operated on a strict no drugs or drama queens policy.
