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I cut him off. "I'm making enough money without this gig," I say. "Hire some developers, bring in the best augmented reality and virtual reality platforms that money can buy, and make it yourself—if you've got as much money as you say you do."
"I'm not interested in doing any of that, and there's more," Simon continues, indifferent to my recommendations. "I'll also give you a file."
"What kind of file?"
"There's a man by the name of Robert," he says. "Perhaps that name rings a bell? He could be told where to find you at any time… any place."
The name causes me to freeze. I wonder if it's the same Robert I'm thinking of… It has to be.
"Are you threatening me?"
"It's not a threat darling," he says. "It's the truth."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I nearly shout. Now he's taken this too far, threatening my livelihood. I have one hand in my purse, my fingers resting on a cold, hard can of mace. I carry it for emergencies and I consider taking it out and spraying it into those beady eyes of his.
He senses what I'm about to do and says, "I wouldn't do that if I were
you. Be smart and do the right thing. Be the predator and not the prey. You can walk away from this with a lot of money. Believe me, it'll make your current wealth pale in comparison. Or… and I hate to think about this path darling… but if you don't make the right choice, you'll walk away the wounded gazelle with her throat in the lion's mouth."
Shit. How did I end up in this spot? Just when I thought my life was gaining the kind of positive momentum I've always wanted for myself, this asshole comes along. I told you that I'd tell you about my past hun, and I promise we'll get to that, but I will say right now that the name Robert sends a chill up my spine. It's taken a lot of work to move beyond my past—and I'm stronger for it, but when Simon sits here and tells me point blank that he can tell Robert where to find me… well, let's just say I'm in no mood to see that happen.
I consider what he's asking for a moment.
"Fine," I say. "I'll do it. But this will cost you."
131
Ethan
“Am I interrupting?” I ask walking into the casting studio.
“Not at all, sir,” Joel the casting director replies back to me.
It’s been three days since the announcement of the Illicit Escape in Times Square. And wouldn't you know it, within minutes of the fucking announcement our website traffic began to pick up.
But it wasn’t just guys looking to jerk off.
No, these were women.
They began to submit their profiles. Head shots. Body shots.
People started messaging our Facebook Page. They began to send us messages on Twitter and Instagram.
Hell, people even started sending resumes on LinkedIn and messages on KiK. All told, within 24 hours of the fucking announcement we had over 12,000 applicants.
The next 48 hours saw over 25,000 people apply.
Now, it’s important to realize that there are a lot of people who want to get into porn. You wouldn’t believe the slush pile our casting director has. And it’s not just guys. Girls apply probably more than guys. And Cheryl looks through all of them. She watches all the fucking videos and reads all their letters. That’s how dedicated she is.
But at the end of the day, we need a certain girl.
So after a frenzied level of activity that meant literally taking less than half a percent of those that applied, fifty girls were called in, specifically from the New York Tri-State area.
I know they were looking for people with prior experience. We had a couple stars come out of retirement to be a part of this project. But even with experience, we also want a fresh face. A face that doesn’t scream out slut. Because this shit is going to go mainstream. Someone should be able to put on an I.E.—Illicit Escape—in a crowded library and no one should be able to know that they’re watching porn.
I mean, you ever been on an airplane with your kid, and you’re sitting there and the dude next to you has his iPad out and he’s watching two chicks fucking blow a dude? With your son or daughter just sitting there and you’re like what the fuck, right?
Think about how disrespectful that fucker is. Now, if he had an I.E., then he can zap out and you wouldn't have to worry about your kid being exposed to shaved pussies until you know, later on in life when he knows how good fucking feels.
