My phone rings and I answer.
“Kevin,” Hull’s gritty voice comes over the speaker. “How are you doing?”
“Good, good, thanks for asking,” I say. He called me Kevin since Emma’s phone call and he isn’t nearly as hard-ass with me anymore, especially considering how well things are going.
“I want to congratulate you on the financial flow the last few weeks. I looked at the projection we made six months ago and you’ve achieved well and beyond that.”
I grin. “I’m very happy to hear that.”
“So am I, Kevin. We were nervous to invest in you at first, what with the allegations and the sex tape and all that. It was a good choice for us to stay on with you and you’ve proven the last few months that they were nothing more than rumors.”
I nod. Carly, Scott and I will always laugh about the close call, about how everyone assumed that the rumors were false after Emma’s phone call when, in fact, they were more than true.
That is our little secret, though, and it will stay that way.
“I just wanted to fill you in on that,” Hull says. “Well done.”
“Thanks Franklin,” I say. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“One more thing, though…”
“Yeah?”
“I know this might not be the best time, but I know you’ve been wanting to spend more time with the editorial process…”
That’s not exactly true – I just want to spend more time at home with Scott and Carly. But whatever.
“Yes, and?”
“How do you feel about spending more time with the writers, and stepping down from your role as CEO?” He says, and then I just hold my breath as I think of what he’s saying. He wants me to step down from CEO? What the --?
“That sounds…interesting. But who’d take over the CEO role?”
“Carly,” he tells me matter-of-factly, and I don’t even know how to respond.
“That’s…a great idea,” I reply, the words leaving my mouth before I can filter them. Carly as CEO? That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. She’s competent, able, and she knows the publishing business like no one else. That’s why we wanted her to make her VP.
We bet on that.
And now she’s about to become the fucking CEO.
“That’s settled then. We’ll discuss it in the next board meeting.”
We end the conversation and I’m buzzing with pride. We made it. Somehow, we got through the worst and everything is going well. Maybe I should feel bad because I’ve been demoted from CEO…but who the hell cares? Carly’s CEO, and I couldn’t think of anyone better for that role.
Now she’ll be the one fucking her employees. Huh.
Carly comes to my office half an hour later.
“We’re going out tonight,” I say. “To celebrate.”
I explain to her what Hull said.
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say,” she says and kisses me – a chaste kiss, nothing too drawn out with the door and windows open. “Are you sure? I mean…”
I nod.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
“What are you two talking about?” Scott says, stepping inside the office and shutting the door behind him.
“Carly’s made CEO,” I tell him, and then it just happens – we start laughing at the same time. I grab my wallet, slip him a dollar, and he does the same.
“I guess that’s a draw,” he says, and then we just laugh as Carly looks at us with a confused expression.
“Well, I guess I’ll make the reservations. My last task on the to-do list before I’m in charge of all of you,” she tells us with a smirk.
We go to Café and Bar Lurcat. It’s a middle-class kind of place but I like the vibe and it is something different than what we usually do.
The restaurant has a checkered floor and white chairs and table cloths so that it all looks stylishly homey. It’s full when we arrive and the atmosphere is bright and cheerful.
“This is great, princess,” I say to Carly who chose the place.
“Yeah, I like it,” Scott says.
We order champagne to celebrate. We have good food and good wine for the rest of the night. The alcohol makes me feel good – light and airy, and horny. I want Carly.
I put my hand on her leg under the table. She glances at me. She’s been drinking, too, and I know she feels the same. When I look at Scott he has the same idea I have. His hand is on her other leg.
“Wasn’t there a coat checker when we arrived?” Scott asks.
I nod. “There was…”
“Shouldn’t we take this home?” Carly asks. “We did talk about public places.”
“It is dangerous,” I admit.
“But it’s a walk on the wild side,” Scott chimes in. “You have to admit that playing dangerously sometimes is so much hotter. Or did you forget about the club?”
Carly blushes, which tells me that she hasn’t forgotten at all. It’s one of those things that keep coming up. It doesn’t bother me that it’s their inside joke. I have those too, with Carly, and we have so many memories of the three of us together, it doesn’t matter. We are a fully-fledged trio, now. We date and we are all equal.
“Let’s go,” Carly says.
I grin at Scott who waves at our waiter. We split the check three ways – it’s one of the things we figured out down the line – and stand up. Scott leads the way to the checking clerk, who’s young and engrossed in a book. Carly and I hang back while Scott approaches her. He flirts shamelessly with her.
We wait, watching him slip her some money and when he turns to us and nods, the girl is blushing. I feel sorry for her – she will never be able to stand up against Scott and his charms.
Scott slips into the closet, first. Carly follows and I bring up the rear, winking at the coat checker. She pales a little, realizing what she just agreed to cover up. We won’t make it hard for her. We will be in and out.
I laugh inwardly at my little joke.
Scott’s already kissing Carly, tugging up her blouse. I come up behind her and run my hands up her thighs. She shivers, her skin goosebumps under my fingertips.
She’s wearing a skirt and it isn’t hard to reach Carly’s pussy. She widens her stance and I pull her panties aside, sliding my fingers into her slit from behind. She gasps as Scott kisses her, his hand on a breast that he pulled out of her bra. When I push my fingers into her, she moans softly and Scott takes her nipple between his teeth. She’s at our mercy and she must stay quiet, something she isn’t very good at.
I finger fuck her a bit while Scott works over her one breast and then the other.
I’m rock hard in my pants, aching for her. I pull out my dick and push her forward a little so she bends over. I hike up the skirt and her ass is beautiful and round, her thong a thin black like into her ass crack.
Without pause, I push my cock into her. She gasps and Scott takes advantage of her open mouth, pushing his dick in between her lips. Her moans are muffled. It’s one way to keep her quiet.
We fuck her, Scott pumping in and out of her mouth and me thrusting into her pussy.
Before long, Scott pulls out and I do, too. We spin her around, giving the other a chance to fuck the hole we had. Carly braces herself on my hips with her hands and takes me into her mouth. Her body rocks back and forth as Scott fucks her, creating the motion with which she sucks me off.
Scott reaches around and finds her clit. He does what he does best – pushes her closer and closer to the edge. I grab her tits where they’re half hanging out of the blouse and squeeze them, tugging at her nipples. It doesn’t take long before she comes. Her body shudders, her breath forcing out around my cock as she comes.
I want to come, too.
Scott pulls out of her and she straightens up. Her cheeks are flushed. I pull her closer to me and she presses her body against mine. I kiss her. I can taste traces of our sex in our mouth but she mostly tastes like wine and lust. I push my tongue
deep into her mouth, exploring her. With my fingers, I find her pussy and she shivered when I touch her clit, now sensitive. I hike up one leg and hold her up, pushing my cock into her pussy. She gasps when I do.
Scott is right behind her, pushing up against her and I know what he’s going to do. We pulled it off standing once before. We don’t have many options, now. Or lube, but he will make it work.
I feel his fingers at the base of my cock as he finds some of her wetness and spreads it to her ass. I feel it as he pushes in, her ass resisting at first. She cries out, his dick sliding into her ass against mine.
We fill her up and she breathes hard. We don’t give her much more than a moment before we started moving, fucking her, moving against each other. Her face is buried in my shoulder, her moans muffled. We are surrounded by coats, the smell of our cologne, her perfume and our sex mingling in with the coats that hang around us. Hopefully it won’t linger.
Carly is the first to orgasm again. She shudders, her body spasming, clamping down on mine as she cries out into my shoulder. She grabs my arm and her nails dig into my skin through the shirt.
It makes me lose it. I come inside of her, pumping and squirting my load inside of her, claiming her.
I feel it when Scott comes. He pumps, too, and we fill her up together. I’m pretty sure her orgasm lasts all the way through ours. Only when we are done does she stop shuddering.
Scott pulls out and I follow suit. We tuck our dicks back into our pants, satisfied for the moment. Carly looks down.
“I’m a mess,” she says. She’s wet all over her ass, her pussy and her thighs. She fishes for a tissue in her bag and wipes up what she can.
“Don’t clean that too much,” I say. “We’re not done with you, yet. We just have to get home.”
Scott looks at me with naughty expression. We watch Carly as she fixes her clothes, tucking her breasts back into her top and fixing her skirt.
When we leave the coat check, Scott slips the girl another bill. She deserves it after what we did in there. We leave the place, headed for home where Scott and I are going to make Carly ours all over again.
Whatever we are doing, it’s working. We will still run into stumbling blocks every day – we often do – but with the three of us we can figure it out. We have so far. Right now, though, I have sex on my mind, and nothing else.
I want to fuck Carly again, good and hard, before curling up in bed with her, her body tight against mine and Scott on the other side.
This is how it should be.
Caught On Tape
By Daphne Dawn & Natalie Knight
Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Daphne Dawn
Natalie Knight
Todd
I just became the lead story on CNN. Fox News has a therapist analyzing what happened, and TMZ is running the same clip of me over and over, ad nauseum.
It’s all lies, of course. But it doesn’t matter because most people don’t have an appetite for the truth, anyway; in a sense, it’s like an unwelcome guest at a dinner party. What people want is gossip, rumor, and innuendo.
And the media is more than happy to oblige. Anything to goose their fucking ratings.
Jordan Ray, my public relations agent, a man I pay an obscene amount of money―which is most of the money he earns―is sitting across from me. He seems to think I’m in need of some damage control.
We’ve been working together since the day my career took off, six years ago. And the truth is that he has gotten me out of a lot of situations I didn’t think even a fairy godmother could extricate me from. But this time, I don’t agree with how he wants to handle it.
This…this…shit I’m seeing on Access Hollywood―the only thing I can do is scream at the ninety-two-inch screen mounted over the marble fireplace in my office. And I still don’t feel any better afterwards.
Jordan patiently waits, tapping his fingers on the shiny mahogany. It’s obvious from the expression on his face that he has something to say. But I’m not interested in that right at the moment; I’m still pissed off and need to get the anger out of my system.
“Go fuck yourself!” I scream at the screen, loud enough to practically blow it off the wall.
Jordan clears his throat, and I finally stop pacing and join him at the table. I nod, as if to say, go ahead, take your best shot. And he does.
“I tried to stop you. You couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself?” Jordan yells as he stands and begins pacing the length of the room.
I’m so not in the mood to listen to this. I want to walk around the table, pick him up by the lapels of his thousand-dollar suit and toss him out the window.
Yeah, I know, he’s my best friend and the best PR man in town. I also know I’m lucky to have him. But what he’s telling me to do…it just doesn’t work for me.
“Jordan,” I say in my most commanding voice before giving a slight look at the chair.
It’s all I need to do. With that one gesture, I communicate that he needs to shut up, sit down, and listen to me―I’m an actor, so I know how to command any situation. I’m good at what I do, and he stops and sits.
“So, how bad is it?” I ask.
“Bad” is Jordan’s terse reply.
“I’m gonna need more specifics,” I say. “On a scale of one to ten, where are we at?”
Jordan places his hands on the desk and looks into his palms as if the answer will magically write itself in the air in front of me. “I’d say you need to lay low, leave town, go visit a sick relative, go on vacation, take some downtime. That bad.”
“Fuck,” I shake my head, “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look that way— “
“Make this go away,” I interrupt him before he can say anything else. “Are you keeping up with me here? I need you to have this entire saga dry up and disappear.”
“It will be much easier if you aren’t around, where the paparazzi can follow your every move,” Jordan responds.
I just stare at him in disbelief.
“You’re a distraction, Todd. We just need you out of the picture for a while if we’re going to do our job.”
This doesn’t sit well with me. Jordan knows what really happened, and he needs to figure out a way to get the truth out, not the version of the ‘truth’ that’s playing all over TV and YouTube. I’m fed up. Enough.
“Just make it go away!” I yell and storm out of the room.
Walking down the long corridor of my penthouse apartment, I glance at the dozens of photos of me hanging on the walls.
Six years ago, I was a struggling actor. Now, I’m on top―and when you’re on top, there’s always someone who wants to take you down. But I’m not going quietly.
Not me.
I yank out my phone and give a good hard swipe to the right. Pulling up my Twitter feed, I can see it’s not good. “Damn, word spreads fast.”
I can’t believe it. It’s a hashtag fiesta: #ToddSucks, #LoserTodd, and what instantly becomes my personal favorite, #CLIT, which apparently stands for, Chump, Loser, Idiot, Todd.
“Assholes... don’t these people have anything better to do with their time?” I say to no one.
With my eyes glued to the screen, I walk into my bedroom and slump to the floor at the foot of my bed, still scrolling through my feed.
Jordan knocks on my door.
I turn and scream, “Go away, and don’t come back until you fix this!”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, so I know he gets that I’m dead serious.
“In case you don’t know how I feel, let me break it d
own for you. The media, collectively and individually, are a bunch of hairy sleaze ball suck eggs, with a fucking twisted sense of the truth. You and I both know that tape has been edited to make sure I look bad.”
“I know, I know,” Jordan says, obviously trying to placate me.
“Then go away and do your fucking job.”
I really have had enough of this bullshit. It’s time to change my mood, and there’s only one way to do that: change of atmosphere.
I jump up, strip off my clothes, and head for my walk-in closet.
I gotta admit, sometimes this is my favorite place in the apartment. I had it built to my specifications when I moved in.
I gave up one of the bedrooms to make sure it was big enough to accommodate all my clothes, a couch, and a work out bench. This six-pack didn’t come in the mail.
I give a pat to my flat stomach, “All muscle, baby,” I say to my reflection in the full-length mirror.
“He thinks I’m okay with laying low,” I mutter to myself, looking through my built-in drawers “Yeah, right…go on vacation, as if.”
I push a button that brings the revolving clothes rack to life.
“Disappear? Fuck that! The only place I’m going is out,” I push the button again, the rack stops, and I rip a pair of jeans off their hanger.
Finally dressed, I check my reflection again from head to toe: black v-neck tee, jeans, and boots. I have to admit, I look good―like I always do.
I reach for my phone. Flipping through my options, I see a number that makes me smile, and push it.
“Hey, baby, let’s go get something to eat.”
Sophie
Alice is tugging at my shirt.
“Now, Sophie, now.”
I finish typing the text message to my mother. As usual, she’s agitating me to firm up plans for our proposed lunch next week.
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