“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.”
ALEXANDRE
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.
PEARL
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 s
hock. 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.
He went on, “I’m thinking of you, Pearl, you and your beautiful face when you come for me, and your erect nipples and that pretty waist and soft skin and I’m thinking how when I get home I’m going to tease you with my cock. I’m going to bend you over the arm of the sofa and flick my tongue around your clit. Just the tip of my tongue. Really gently. I know you baby, you’re gonna get all wet and hot and be begging me for it. And I’ll make you wait. I’ll make you moan with anticipation.”
I swallowed. I felt my pulse speed up hearing his words, imagining myself in the position he described. I pressed “pause” and went over to my office door and locked it. Jeanine always knocked, but just to be sure. I went back to my laptop and pressed “play” again.
“See how hard I am?” he purred. “I’m thinking of you sucking me off—your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, running your tongue up and down and making it even stiffer.”
I unzipped my skirt and let it pool around my ankles, on the floor. I took off my suit jacket and flung it on the back of my swivel chair.
Alexandre continued, “Have you got your fingers in your pussy, baby? Is it all wet for me? I want you to sit back in your chair with your legs wide open . . . ”
Wait a minute, I thought, how does he know I’m in my chair? I sat down, my heart pounding, and yes, I was wet. Very wet.
“Let’s get back to the other position I had in mind for you, eh?” he said, the focus now on his face, which was grimacing from pleasuring himself. “You bent over the sofa arm, your peachy ass in the air. I’m gonna have to spank that ass, baby, and then I’m going to take you from behind.”
He had never spanked me, ever, but he talked about it in his fantasies. Did he do that to please me, or did he secretly want to punish me? I still didn’t know.
“I’ll slip my cock in just an inch, no more . . .” His dirty talk was doing things to my brain, and every part of my body was alive with sensation.
My fingers were deep inside myself. I hooked them up against my front wall, against my G-spot—a place I didn’t even know existed until Alexandre found it with his magic thumb. My left hand was on top, both adding pressure now to my clit and my special zone. I made circular movements and pressed harder. I could feel the build-up, my eyes glued to the screen. The camera was back on his rock-hard cock, and he was moaning, almost growling—about to come—I could sense it.
“All I can think about is fucking you. I. Love. Fucking. You. Pearl.”
I suddenly heard a knock just as I was about to reach orgasm. The panic of it made me climax in a thunderous spasm. But then I realized the knock was coming from Alexandre’s homemade porn movie as I heard him shout out, “Hang on, just coming.”
“We’re about to take off, sir, I need you to buckle-up,” a muffled voice said through the cabin door.
He groaned. I observed his face, now shown up by the camera, in twisted ecstasy, and I laughed at the madness and irony of it all . . . “just coming,” he’d said –and I was still coming, too, with delicious, powerful contractions—never were words more aptly spoken.
Then the video went dead.
Why did Alexandre continually make me feel like a naughty schoolgirl?
I tried to compose myself, which was difficult as now all I had on the brain was my sexy fiancé. I was not the jealous type but I wondered at my foolishness of letting him roam free in London without me there by his side. I trusted him, I did, but at the end of the day he was still a guy. Women threw themselves at him. Women, girls, mothers, dogs; this was a man who enjoyed popularity. He was easygoing and nearly always had a gentle smile on his lips that made him very attractive to everyone. But there was also something commandeering about him that make people sit up and pay attention.
Funny, he’d said the same about me . . . that people listened. I did a good job of pretending; shoulders back, head up (and all that), but inside I felt the same as when I was twelve years old. You think getting older would make you qualify in the extra confidence stakes, but it doesn’t. Perhaps all that happens is that you get better at acting. If I had Alexandre fooled, I decided, that was fine by me. If I had Samuel Myers fooled, all the better.
I went to the bathroom to freshen up. One thing Alexandre had installed in every bathroom in his apartment, and here, was the old fashioned bidet. At first, I had thought it archaic, but now I was a convert and winced every time I went to a bathroom and there wasn’t one. How civilized they are, I mused—perfect for a quick clean up at any moment, especially if you’ve indulged in a little afternoon sex and don’t have time for a shower. I had found they were perfect to use as a footbath, too.
I looked in the mirror and saw a happy woman staring back at me. Her skin glowing, her blue-gray eyes bright. Lots of passionate sex—the perfect cure for anyone.
I turned my cell back on and saw I had three messages. Alexandre? No, Anthony. My mind flashed through a series of disasters that could have befallen him. Had he set the kitchen on fire? Did he try and squeeze his huge body into the Dumbwaiter? Had he smashed something, broken a chair? Fed Rex the box of handmade chocolate truffles that were on top of the piano? Had he spilled a hot drink onto the piano keys? Anthony had two left feet and was always crashing into something, and putting his foot in it, either verbally or literally. I called him without even listening to the messages—I dreaded to think what had happened.
He picked up. “Pearl, thank God.”
I could hear outside sounds: sirens, cars, horns, cries. “Anthony, are you on the street?”
“I’m getting into a cab.”
“Oh, where are you going? Shopping? Wait for me, I’m on my way home.”
“I’m catching a flight back to San Francisco. Bruce is ill, it’s an emergency.”
I rolled my eyes. Bruce had done this last time. He was incapable of being without his boyfriend for five minutes. Co-dependency did not even begin to describe their ten-year relationship. “Anthony, you know what a drama queen Bruce is.”
“No, this is an emergency. Seriously. An. Emergency! He’s had an aortic aneurism. Something to do with the heart. He’s in intensive care. Oh my God, I’m like, freaking out, I think he’s going to die,” he wailed.
A wave of guilt washed over me for my dismissive attitude. “He’s not going to die. Calm down. If he’s at the hospital, they’ll get him through this. Have faith, Ant. Stay strong. Why are you taking a cab to the airport? Suresh could have driven you there.”
“He was running errands, I couldn’t wait.”
I heard the cab door slam and the vehicle screech off. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to come with you? I have money—let me sort out the medical bill.”
Anthony seemed as if he was going to burst into tears. “No and no. There isn’t any point you coming and hanging around at the hospital—there’s nothing you can do. And Bruce’s job has great benefits—he has full insurance. Thanks, anyway, Pearly, I appreciate the offer.”
“Well let me know if there’s anything you need.”
; “I will. Shame, I was having such a ball at Alexandre’s palace. I mean yours and Alexandre’s palace. If only Bruce wasn’t afraid of flying and he’d have come too, maybe this would never have happened.”
“Life happens when you’re busy making plans,” I said.
“John Lennon said that.”
“Yes, he did. And that was before he got shot. There’s nothing you could have done, Anthony. Life throws stuff at you sometimes—things that are beyond your control.”
“Shit happens, huh?”
“Exactly,” I whispered, thinking of our mom.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. I need some time to think.”
“Good luck, Ant. I’m praying for Bruce. Call me later.”
“Bye Pearl.” The line went dead.
I mulled over the fragility of our existence. One second everything can be perfect and the next, bam, anything can change and there’s not a lot you can do about it.
Except . . . live each day as if it were your last.
ALEXANDRE
WHEN I EXITED my cabin, I nearly had a heart attack. The person sitting right there in my line of vision, neatly and serenely in her seat, was none other than Indira bloody Kapoor herself. She looked up from her book and said calmly, “Alexandre, how wonderful to see you.”
I gazed at her, speechless. What the fuck was she doing on this plane? She was wearing a sky-blue sari, draped elegantly over one shoulder, and her hair was braided. I had to admit, she looked great. No wonder she was such a big movie star.
“Indira. What a surprise.” I walked over, bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “What brings you here on this very private plane?”
“I’m like you, Alexandre; I like to hitch-hike on G-5s. So much global warming—always good to spread the wealth a bit, you know, not be too greedy. You were flying to London so I thought I’d hop aboard.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked, not even wanting to know what strings she’d pulled.
Hooked Up: Book 2 Page 18