by Alexis Angel
I’ll tell you why.
I’m inside.
I’ the face of Illicit Escape.
So what the data I stole has gone bad?
I can try again. And if I don’t succeed, I can maybe try again. And if I still don’t succeed, I can even at the end steal the physical prototype somehow.
Yeah, don’t roll your eyes, hun. What I’m trying to say is that there are options.
I should be happy. Walter's right. I will have made more money than I've made with a single client before, and I'll be safe from Robert. This is just one job of many. You'd think these facts alone would have me finding Simon and throwing the I.E. data straight into the palm of his hand and calling it a day.
But that's not how I'm feeling. That's not exactly what I want to do. Are you following?
This is new territory for me. I've always been able to handle any job. But I may have just met my match. Maybe I bit off more than I can handle with this one. But did I have a choice? Simon basically threatened my life if I didn't take this on.
How can I explain any of this to Walter? He'd just say that I'm overanalyzing things.
He's known me forever. He'd just keep telling me to relax.
He'd also say I'm not thinking clearly. That I need to take a deep breath and steady my thoughts. Get my head screwed back on straight. To stop being a 'negative Nancy' in that off English accent of his.
The car stops outside the Illicit Entertainment offices in Times Square and Walter gets out to open my door.
"Okay, here you are darling," Walter says. We are both standing outside the Illicit Entertainment headquarters. "While you're in your shoot, I'll make my way to Ethan's office and plant the bugs; I have three—one underneath his desk, one behind a wall socket, and one buried in this potted plant here. I added a nice note from you, for a bit of realism. He'll never suspect a thing."
I look at the plant in Walter's arm. It's a potted plant with a pink ribbon around its pot and a card that reads simply, "Love Brittney." Shit. That makes me feel awful.
"Do we really have to plant these bugs?" I ask.
"To get this job done, yes," he says. "I could potentially install a shotgun mic outside of his office window, and it's very good at recording conversations, but given the fact that his office isn't on the ground floor, that wouldn't be practical. In fact, I'm not even sure that's possible."
I nod to Walter. My insides are in knots. Literal knots that make me want to curl up in a ball, or maybe under a rock. I feel sick. How did I end up in this situation?
I feel like one of the worst possible people on the planet for what I'm about to do to Ethan. I know he has this bad boy image, but underneath it all, he's a good guy. It's true. He doesn't deserve this. All of these thoughts are going through my mind as I stand here in the Illicit Entertainment lobby and wait for the elevator.
Can I actually go through with this? Should I tell Ethan what I've been up to? Sure, he may refuse to talk to me ever again after he finds out—I may never see him again, and I wouldn't blame him. And that's the price I'd have to pay. But maybe he wouldn't react that way. Maybe he'd respect me for coming clean. For realizing the whole thing was wrong. Maybe if he knew how I ended up here, he'd understand.
Suddenly, the elevator opens. I turn my body, facing forward, and I see Cheryl. Her wavy brown hair seems to have a shine to it now; it seems more golden. Is it the lighting down here? She looks over at me and smiles. I smile back.
What kind of a smile was that? I wonder. One minute, she's giving me an icy stare and is interrogating me in the computer room—her eyes gazing at me like they could burn a hole right through me, and now this? She smiled at me as if she has received some sort of validation. Has she come to some sort of realization? My brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out what exactly that smile was all about.
Then, she speaks. "See you at tomorrow's shoot."
It was all so cordial and happy. Where did all of her icy unease disappear to?
"Wait… actually, can I ask a big favor?" she says, looking at Walter and I.
We both look at each other and back at her, and I say, "Sure."
"Is there any way Walter could take me home?" Cheryl asks. "It would really save me from having to get a cab. I'd really appreciate it."
I look at Walter and he looks at me.
"I don't see why not," I say.
"It's no problem, just tell me where to go," Walter says. "I'm assuming you live nearby?"
Cheryl smiles again. "It's not too far. Thank you so much; you're saving me quite a bit of hassle today."
We all walk out of the lobby and to the limo. Walter holds the door open for us and Cheryl and I both scoot into the long, black leather seat. "I could get used to sitting in this every day," she jokes.
Walter drives her to her apartment and I notice that she lives close to Ethan. When she leaves, I'm struck with a thought and I turn to Walter.
I say, "Drive me to Ethan's apartment."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Walter asks. He has a look of concern flash across his face. I guess I can understand where he's coming from. I've been an emotional rollercoaster today.
"Yes," I say. "I need to see him."
"Okay, anything you say," Walter replies, and he drives to One57. When we pull up to the massive building, I nearly jump out.
"Thank you Walter," I say. "I'll call you in a little bit."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, darling."
I give him a wink and enter the building. I take the elevator to Ethan's floor, and the higher up I travel, the more nervous energy I have. I find myself pacing back and forth in the elevator until the doors slide open and I walk into the hall, directly facing Ethan's apartment. I get the courage to walk forward and I knock. At first, I don't hear a sound, and then I hear his footsteps approaching.
He opens the door.
I see his cobalt blue eyes and that smile.
"I was hoping you'd come," he says. "I have a surprise for you."
Just standing her in front of him. Just seeing him. A flood of emotion runs through me. Is what I'm feeling real? Is this just lust, or something else?
If what I'm feeling turns out to be real … I'll have to tell him.
I'll have to come clean.
Ethan
I’m sitting on the balcony watching something on my tablet. It’s pretty engrossing and I don’t even notice the sounds of the New York City traffic below.
What?
No, you can’t see what I’m looking at.
I think that I already fucking share enough with you as it is, you know? It’s nothing personal. It’s just something that I want to keep to myself for now. I’m sure later on you’ll find out in time.
But let me just tell you one thing.
What’s on this fucking tablet is explosive. I mean, if you saw it, you would probably be fucking pissed at me. Maybe you’d tell me to do something that I’m not prepared to do right now. This book would be over because I’d walk the fuck away if you told me that.
Yes, fine. It has to do with Brittney, but that’s all you’re getting out of me, babe.
Besides I can’t answer any more. Don’t you hear the doorbell? She’s here.
I go inside, make sure to turn off my tablet and put it on the table before opening the door.
She’s standing there in a slinky black strapless dress that comes down five inches above her knees.
It's fucking classy and sexy at the same time. I don't even know how it's fucking possible but it makes me want to hold her close and protect her while ripping it off and fucking her at the same goddamn time.
Her face is made up and it’s beautiful. But my dick would be as hard as it is now if she had no makeup on.
God, I need to get a hold of myself.
"I was hoping you'd come," I say. "I have a surprise for you."
She looks at me like she’s seen a ghost.
“Come on in,” I tell her and she walks by. I turn to look a
t her ass as she walks by. That dress is tight around the ass and I watch those cheeks as they flex as she walks. Fucking Christ, I’m fucking hard already.
You’re shaking your fucking head at me, huh? I know. Don’t think I can’t see you. Yeah, I’m not ashamed or anything. Fuck that. I want to squeeze that ass. Rub it and knead it. Like fucking dough. I want to run my cock over it. Stick it in between those ass cheeks. I want to smack that fucking ass.
Then when I’m ready I want to fucking cum all over.
Mark it as mine.
Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I take a step over toward Brittney. The look in my eyes should probably tell her what I'm going to do to her—how I’m going to take her like the fucking savage beast that I am.
“Ethan,” she says to me, and I automatically hear something in her voice that makes me stop. “I need to tell you something.”
Fuck.
Outwardly, I’m calm. My brain may be consumed by lust, but you can’t tell looking at me from the outside. Sure, maybe if you grab my cock, you can tell. But if you’re doing that, then you’re probably thinking the same thing as I am.
Why am I all of a sudden like this? That’s what you want to know, isn't it?
Because of what I saw on the fucking tablet.
Yeah, the same thing I can’t tell you about yet.
Don’t pout. I just had to fucking do that. I’m going to fucking miss you when this book is over; you know that, don’t you?
Anyways, we’re far from done now, because Brittney is looking at me and I can tell she’s starting to waver in whatever she had committed to doing.
“Let’s sit down,” I tell her, and I take her hand and lead her to the sofa where I sit her down next to me.
I can smell her fucking perfume. It’s fucking addictive and it makes my nostrils flare up.
“What did you want to tell me?” I ask, looking at her.
Brittney looks down.
“Hey,” I tell her. “You can tell me anything.”
“It’s just a secret that I’ve been keeping from you,” she tells me. I nod. Every one of us has fucking secrets. That’s nothing new.
If you want to know my secrets, you’ll go turn on that tablet. But you can’t.
Yeah, I’m an asshole sometimes. I know.
“Babe, it’s okay,” I tell her, holding her chin with my hand and lifting her face. “You can tell me anything, but you don’t have to tell me everything.”
Brittney looks at me for a second. “You know I used to do porn, right?” she asks me.
I nod. I mean, I never outright asked her specifically if she used to be a porn star, but it was always something I suspected. And there was something about her face that seems kind of familiar…
“I always thought,” I say still nodding, “But I never really knew for sure.”
“I lived in Los Angeles for the longest time and I sort of drifted into the business,” she tells me, looking at me intently, seeing what my reaction is going to be. “I came to New York to get away from it.”
“Well, you seemed to do a good job of that, babe,” I tell her, smiling a bit to show her that it’s okay. I can tell she's fucking on edge—looking to see any sign of me being upset. “You’re going to be the first Illicit Escape girl. I don't know if that’s leaving the business entirely.”
“But that’s not what I thought I’d be doing when I came to New York,” she tells me, and she scoots closer. “I honestly thought I’d be leaving porn forever. I brought my assistant with me, Walter. And we set up a business together.”
I nod. Walter reminds me of Cheryl in a lot of ways from the few times I’ve seen him here and there as I’ve met Brittney.
“Okay,” I say, scooting a bit closer. “So you used to do porn. I’m in porn too,” I tell her.
“But it’s what I did afterwards, that I want to tell you about,” she tells me, struggling to get the words out.
“What did you do afterwards?” I ask, now getting genuinely interested.
“I started a company, where women would come to me, and they’d tell me about the men they wanted me to fuck, and I’d seduce them for money,” she says to me, letting it all come out in a rush. “They wanted to get proof that these men were assholes and were cheating on them so they’d have grounds for divorce.”
“They couldn’t just get a private investigator?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t always so easy. The husbands, maybe they weren’t cheating then, but they were still ignoring and mistreating their wives. Sometimes it was just that the husbands weren’t traveling. But the wives knew the love was gone. And they wanted out of the marriage. They came to me.”
I’m silent. Brittney continues.
“I’m the CEO of a company called Man Chasers, LLC, Ethan,” she confides. “And for the longest time I thought I didn’t need a man in my life at all. That they were nothing but a waste of time.”
I don't know what to fucking say.
“But then I kinda met you,” she finishes off with.
She’s looking at me. Waiting for me to fucking say something.
I move my eyes back to her. She’s so fucking cute as a button.
“I’ve never spent as much time with a single woman as I have with you,” I tell her. It’s the fucking truth. “I’ve never spent so much time fucking thinking about a woman as I do when you’re not around, Brit,” I say.
She gasps as I pull her close to me.
“And I could care less that you’ve been in fucking porn as long as you’re here with me right fucking now, babe,” I continue forcefully. “I could care less that you made a job to find out cheating scumbags and have them pay for being assholes.”
Brittney starts to smile and I pull her over to me all the way. She comes willingly.
“No one has fucking affected me. Ever. Like you,” I tell her. I’m telling her the truth. “When you first walked in that door, I fucking wanted to bang the shit out of you. I wanted to fucking smack your ass till you cried out and suck on your tits as I fucked you. I wanted to cum all over that fucking gorgeous body you got, babe,” I say to her, as serious as I’ve ever been in my life.
“That’s so romantic, Ethan,” she says with a teasing grin, as she rests her body on my chest. I can feel her. Every inch of her. Pressed against me. It’s fucking heaven. “You don’t want me to do that anymore?”
Fuck. This is where you’re going to think I’m fucking crazy. Especially if you saw what I saw on the tablet. But you didn’t. So you’re going to have to trust me that I know what's best.
I reach over to the cigar box on the coffee table. I open it and pull out the only existing prototype of Illict Escape.
Brittney’s eyes go wide.
“Is that…” she trails off.
“Yeah,” I tell her hoarsely. “It’s the only copy to date that we’ve made of Illicit Escape. And yes, I still want to fuck your brains out. But I trust you, babe. And I want you to experience what this is going to be like.”
Brittney’s eyes go wide and I can see that they’re going to tear up.
She’s fucking overwhelmed. The super secret project. Guarded so fucking closely.
And I’m about to let her in.
I take the glasses and put them on her. They’re spare and very minimal—single rimmed and unobtrusive.
I pull over my tablet. It’ll let me see what she sees.
“Let’s go for a ride, baby,” I tell her.
Then I power it on.
Brittney
“Let’s do this,” I whisper, anxiety suddenly kicking in. I have no idea what Ethan's device really does, but I’m more than eager to find out.
“Are you sure, babe? I’ll be watching everything and I know this is… personal.” I look into his eyes, my heart drumming a song of desire and hesitancy, and I just nod. It’s an automatic movement, but one that I know is the right one. I can’t believe this is happening but… I think I’m falling for him. I want him to see
what’s inside of my head, and I want him to see the way all my deepest desires revolve around him and only him. The moment he placed the glasses on me, I knew I wanted to do this. I just didn’t know how much.
“I want to do it… I want you to see,” I whisper, my heart pounding at a frantic pace. What the hell am I doing? I have no idea what’s going to happen once this thing gets going. Once again, the winds of hesitancy run wild inside my head; am I really this sure that I want to share what I’m about to experience with him? When the answer comes, it couldn’t be any clearer: of course I do.
There’s a bright flash of light coming from the rim of the glasses, and it starts to pulse at a steady rhythm. It spreads to the lenses, and I have to close my eyes; still, the red flashes of light are so strong that they manage to get past my shut eyelids. Slowly, the flashes starts to dim, the light pulsing at a more gently rhythm, and I open my eyes.
It’s weird, but I don’t see a thing. There’s just darkness, as if I’ve gone blind. I have no idea how this Illicit Escape thing works, but it has taken complete control of my sight. I can still feel the glasses sitting on the bridge of my nose, but I can’t see them anymore. Then, like a fog that starts to clear, I see a flicker in the distance, an oasis right in the middle of the darkness.
Even though I’m sitting, I feel myself moving as I walk toward the light in the distance. It seems that the Illicit Escape not only affects what you can see, but all of your other senses as well. Oh, this is going to be good … Really good.
As I close in on the object, I realize it’s a mirror. There’s no illumination in this empty and dark virtual place I’m in, so it seems the flat surface of the mirror isn’t reflecting any light; instead, it’s from there that the light comes. From the other side of the mirror, my reflection looks straight into my eyes.
My hair is tied up in a ponytail, and I’m wearing nothing aside from a pair of high-heels, black stockings, and a matching pair of black lace panties and bra. My lips are painted with a deep red, the color of wine, and I can’t help but lift one finger and brush it over my mouth. It’s a strange feeling. I feel my real body frozen in place, but my body in this dream world reacts, and I touch my lips with one fingertip. And I can actually feel it.