by Alexis Angel
Just look at me, turning into a workaholic beast all of a sudden. Believe it or not, it hasn’t always been like this. I guess starting your own company forces you to develop some work ethic. Especially when it’s a company that revolves around sex.
Oh, you thought that having a production crew and a few cameras meant I was a respectable young entrepreneur, didn’t you? Well, I guess that depends on your definition of respectable. As far as I’m concerned, working in the sex industry is as respectable as any other job; it’s just more fun. And, if you ask me, the sanest people I’ve ever met always have the craziest backgrounds.
It all started when I graduated college. Fresh out of Yale and with a finance degree tucked under my arm, I was ready to take the world by storm—except I was broke, of course. Welcome to the 21st century, right?
Thankfully, one day I got a call from a headhunter, and he was interested in seeing some pictures of me. I almost hung up then; I thought he was just one of these run-of-the-mill creeps, preying on desperate pretty girls. But, as it turned out, his offer was a pretty legitimate modeling gig. Sure, it was a racy modeling gig, but it paid handsomely.
So, smart girl that I am, I rolled up my profits into currencies and stock, and put my finance degree to work. When I reached a considerable monthly income, I gave up on the idea of getting a regular 9-to-5 job. So, yeah, I escaped the rat race before I even had a chance to participate in it.
I was only 23 years old when I opened up my first business. Instead of opening up a respectable burger franchise, or something equally boring, I instead decided to go for something a little more entertaining—a webcam business. And I don’t need to explain to you what a webcam business is, do I? I wasn’t selling webcams, if that’s what you’re wondering.
It was a wild success. From there, I expanded into the streaming-porn business, and it was only a matter of time until I caught the attention of the biggest shark in the ocean: Ethan Kane.
Owner of a billion-dollar porn industry behemoth, Kane did right by me; instead of treating me as a rival and shutting me down, he straight up bought my business. I was 24 years old and had enough money to retire for good.
For a few days I contemplated moving somewhere next to the beach and sipping on margaritas until I grew old and wrinkled. I took a two-week vacation in the Bahamas, but I grew tired of that hedonistic lifestyle quick enough. I grabbed a plane out of there and came back to New York, ready for another business venture.
Kinky Amy’s—does it ring a bell? It’s my new company slash club slash studio, and it’s on 43rd and 8th Avenue. And I probably don’t need to tell you that it’s all about sex. I mean, hell, the name’s Kinky Amy’s, not Prude Amy’s.
It’s basically a sex club with a specific department devoted to filming. I run what’s called an online peep show, and it’s blowing everyone else out of the water. Ethan Kane has once again offered to buy me out, but this time I decided against it. I love money, sure, but I need to keep busy. What the hell am I supposed to do all day if I’m not working?
Anyway, so that’s where I am right now, and this is my private office. The new huge cameras outside are my latest investment, and let me tell you: they were expensive. But I guess that if I want to keep on thriving in this business, I have to invest in top-of-the-line stuff, right? Always go for the best; that’s my motto in this business, and you can rest assured that I’m talking about more than just video cameras.
That’s why the shirtless model out there was as hot as a supernova. Square chin, washboard abs, and a delicious smile—you know, the works. That’s why I love my company. Where else would I have the chance to work in a place packed with scorching hot men? Yes, I love hot men and I’m not ashamed of it, not one bit. Why would I be? It’s not like I live in the 19th century, even though there are still some assholes that’d prefer women to wear chastity belts all the time. Thank you very much, but I’ll pass.
God, just thinking of hot men makes the gears inside my head start turning. And when that happens, I know exactly what I need.
Picking up my Kindle from one of the drawers, I prop my feet up on the desk and lean back against my chair. I power the Kindle up and launch Pierce Me, one hell of a steamy book by Simone Sowood. Oh, you haven’t read it yet?
It’s coming. She just sends it to me first because I’m just so awesome.
It’s surprising how fast I go through these books. As busy as I am, I should be reading one or two books per year… but I just can’t stop reading these dirty books. It’s like an addiction. The sweetest kind of addiction.
I pick up right where I left off, right before one steamy scene, and let my eyes wander over the words on the screen. Too bad perfect men only exist in Book Land; I wouldn’t mind having the power to just snap my fingers and make one of these men pop up into the real world.
And, God, why does Simone have to write so well? Seriously, two pages in one of these sexy scenes and my thong's already sticking to my skin. Okay, I need some action, and I need it right now.
I place my Kindle on the desk and jump up to my feet. I walk straight to the door and, opening it just a crack, I stick my neck out. “Justin!” I call out, and a few heads at the end of the room turn toward me. The production crew is having lunch on a makeshift table at the end of the studio and Justin, the model, is sitting with them.
“You need me?” he asks, jumping up to his feet. There’s an eager expression on his face, and I can’t help but smile at that. Justin has been eyeing me since his first day of work here, and today’s his lucky day.
“Yeah, I need you. Get in here,” I tell him, and then take a few steps back as I wait for him to walk across the studio. He swings the door open hesitantly, and then shuts it behind him.
“What is it?” he asks me, trying hard to avoid staring at my cleavage, but failing miserably.
“I’m bored,” I say with a coy smile, opening the top button on my blouse. His eyes widen and he smiles hesitantly, this time completely entranced by my breasts.
“I … I can help with that,” he tells me, taking one careful step toward me. God, would it hurt for him to be more assertive? Seriously, what’s wrong with men today? Even the handsome ones seem to walk on eggshells around me. Am I that intimidating?
“You sure can,” I whisper, reaching for him and hooking my fingers on his belt. I pull him into me, eager to get him out of his clothes and show him what a real woman can do.
He lays his hands on my hips, sliding one down to my ass and squeezing my cheeks, and then he leans into me. My eyelids droop as his mouth comes for mine, and I flatten the palm of my hand over his crotch, feeling his hard cock underneath his pants.
“AMY! Jesus Christ, have some decency!” I hear a woman’s voice cutting through the fog of my mind, and my pussy dries up in a fraction of a second. That woman’s voice, you know to whom it belongs? My mom, Katherine Meelios. Yeah, thanks Mom, I really needed for you to barge in here when I’m about to have some fun.
I pull back from Justin (who’s now looking from me to my mom with a scared expression on his face), and place my hands on my hips. “Haven’t you ever learned to knock? This is my office, you know?” I tell my mother, tapping my foot on the floor.
She’s standing by the doorway, her hand still on the door’s handle, and her lips are tightly pursed in a disapproving expression.
“You’re my daughter,” she simply says, walking inside my office and turning her attention toward Justin. “Out,” she tells him drily, and he just scurries away like a frightened mouse. Yeah, my mother has that effect on people.
“What the hell do you want?” I ask her, still pissed off that she had the audacity to storm inside my office like that. I mean, it’s my lunch break, and I was about to have some much needed fun. It should be illegal to ruin moments like these.
“I want you to turn on the TV,” she tells me, and her harsh tone of voice tells me that something’s coming.
And, whatever it is, it isn’t good.
&nbs
p; Parker
The weather couldn't be any fucking nicer if it tried to suck my cock.
What the fuck. That makes no fucking sense at all.
I don’t even know why I said that. Am I really that nervous about this shit?
It’s like sometimes I don’t have control over what I say, ya know? Like some giant hand is writing this shit out somewhere and I have no control over what I say and do.
That’s not what today is all about though.
The sun's out, there's a gentle breeze, and it's a clear, bright day. The sky is a perfect shade of blue. Traffic seems to almost float by. Even the pigeons look fucking happy, gliding, and pecking, and cooing, and the trees look greener than normal.
Good.
Everything's going as planned.
I have total control here.
Carpe diem. I'm seizing the fucking day.
I look over at the podium placed in front of City Hall. The building stands tall and stoic.
The stage is set. In a few minutes, I'm going to stand in front of that podium, speak into the microphone, and unveil a secret to the citizens of New York City: I'm running for the U.S. Senate.
I straighten my yellow tie (the color of power, I've been told) and smooth the lapels of my suit jacket. Here's my chance.
I walk over to the podium, and watch as a crowd gathers.
Men, women, and entire families—I even see babies sucking on their toes in strollers. Even kids skipping school to play witness to this moment.
I clear my throat. "Thank you all for gathering here today," I start, and already I hear a smattering of claps, and whistles.
"We love you Parker!" one woman yells out, and I wave to the anonymous woman in the crowd, smiling.
"I'm sure it's no surprise to any of you that I've been in the tabloids quite a bit as of late."
I hear more shouts from the crowd. "You can say that again!" another woman yells. I hear some laughs.
And I continue, "But I just want to make one thing clear. I don't give a fuck about what the media thinks about me. None. They can all say what they want. But we all know that I get results for this city! I put my money where my mouth is."
I hear clapping erupt across the crowd. "You tell 'em Parker!"
I continue, "The only people I care about are you—the hardworking citizens of New York City. And I think that's been apparent in my work as your Mayor."
I look out at the sea of smiling faces, and the clapping. I look at the serious nods of approval.
"What once was a city of crime, is now a place that," and I pause, holding the gaze of various women in the audience, "women can walk safely down the street at night. Safety is not a privilege, it's a right, and I'm proud to say that I've lowered crime across this city that we call home."
More cheers and claps emerge from the crowd.
"But let's not stop there," I smile, holding a dramatic pause. "I've brought back jobs to this magnificent city—including new construction. Not only have I brought new jobs, but a new infrastructure for us as well."
The crowd is growing increasingly loud, shouting their approval, and I'm on a fucking roll.
"I'm happy to say that unemployment is at an all-time low. And that's just the beginning!"
"You tell 'em Parker!" a man shouts again, and he's backed by increasingly more cheers.
I continue, "For all of our families—historically, the cost of housing has been especially tough. But I say, enough is enough! Families are our future, and it's been my mission to lower that cost—and I'm happy to say that's happened."
"Ain't that the truth!" comes another shout from the crowd, and there's another round of clapping.
I hold my hand up to quiet the crowd, and continue, "I've also cleaned up this beautiful city. As many of you have probably seen, I've added parks, play structures, and recreational courts, and because children are our future, and I believe that they should be given every opportunity possible to succeed, I've added a number of new after school programs."
There's more clapping, and at this point, I don't try to quiet the crowd. I just continue on.
"Shall I go on?"
People are now chanting, "Parker! Parker! Parker!"
"Under my years as Mayor, I have balanced the budget. We now have more money for what matters most to us, and not only that, but I've managed to lower taxes for all of our citizens. I'm sure you're all feeling the effects of that!"
The clapping continues, and increases in intensity.
"Never, in the history of our city, have things been this good. That's not hyperbole; that's the honest to God truth! And with that, I've got an announcement to make today."
I remain silent for a moment and look out across the sea of happy faces. The clapping and shouting continues, but grows quieter as everyone becomes eager to hear my announcement. They all seem to be leaning in just a little closer.
I continue, "I'm happy to announce that I will be running for a seat in the U.S Senate!"
With that news, the crowd erupts. They're shouting their approval. They're ecstatic. They're practically leaping out of their shoes.
I feel on top of the fucking world.
"With your support, I promise to represent the people of New York City in Congress—to talk about the issues that are most important to you, and to push along the bills that matter the most. I give you my promise. I'll be there when you need me the most. So always remember this, New York City: When you're in need, just ask Trask!"
The audience loves the tagline—they're literally eating it up—and they immediately begin shouting and chanting, "Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask!"
I smile with a grin that feels wider than the Atlantic Ocean.
I can feel the energy and excitement pulsing off of the crowd. People are shouting their approval, cars are honking, drivers are waving, babies are smiling, and the thunder of applause seems to rumble across the entire fucking city.
Now this is how you make a bid for the U.S. Senate.
This is how it's done.
Can things be any better?
I don’t fucking think so.
Amy
I stare at the TV, barely blinking as I take in my stepfather’s words. Why the hell is my mother showing me this? He’s running for Senate; great, but what the hell does that have to do with me?
“So?” I ask my mother, turning to face her.
“Your stepfather has decided to run for the Senate,” she tells me, and I just shrug.
“Yeah, I saw that. What do I care?”
“Oh, you don’t care now. But you should ... because, as of now, his bid for the Senate is your problem,” she says, lowering her voice as an amused grin creeps up on her face.
There’s one thing you should know about Katherine Meelios, my beloved mother: she’s an ambitious sociopath. There, I said it. You’re probably thinking that I’m being too harsh on her, since she’s my mother and all. But trust me, you don’t want to get too comfortable around my mother. She’s not the kind of person to dip her hand into your purse looking for your wallet, but she’ll steamroll you if you’re in her way.
“I want you to get close to him,” she continues, narrowing her eyes into slits. I go back behind my desk, unconsciously needing a barrier between her and I, and sink into my chair. “I need you to get inside his campaign.”
“Are you crazy? You want me to spy on Parker?” I sigh, rubbing both my temples. Here we go. Once again, she’s pulling me into her Machiavellian plots for world domination. Just lovely.
“I want you to spy on him, and you will spy on him,” she says, a veiled threat behind her words. Well, not exactly veiled; if there’s one thing my mother loves, it's to threaten me in order to make me do her bidding. It’s what she does. Behind her pretty face and middle-aged elegance lies a creature that knows no limits. “I’m going to run for Senator, and Parker’s in my way. I have to put a stop to his ambitions, and you’ll help me do that.
“You’re insa
ne,” I repeat, a headache already brewing inside of my skull, “how the hell am I supposed to get into his campaign? And, besides, he’s my stepfather. It’s not like I get off on sabotaging family.”
“Parker and I aren’t together anymore, so let go of that family talk,” she shoots at me, walking around my desk and leaning into me, her hands resting on my chair’s hand rests. “And we were only married for a year, Amy. Don’t bullshit me and say you care about him. You hardly know him.”
That’s true. I was only 18 when mom and Parker called it quits and split up. But that only strengthens my case.
“Yeah, that’s right. So what am I supposed to do? Stroll into his campaign’s headquarters and announce myself? Hey, daddy? I missed you! Gimme a job. How do you think that’ll play out?”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” my mom says, her grin widening as she lowers her voice. Here we go.
“Yeah?”
“That’s right, Amy. I still have that tape, and unless you want your business to go up in flames, together with your reputation, you’ll help me do this,” she hisses, an amused expression on her face. Ever since she got her hands on that tape, there’s been no stopping her.
You see, Parker left a lasting impression on me. I was only 18 when he left, but I grew up dreaming of his strong frame, deep voice, and smart eyes … God, just thinking about that is enough to make my heart race.
Anyway, I’m not ashamed to say that I had some solo fun thinking of Parker once puberty hit. Too bad that, once in college, I never found anyone that managed to fill Parker’s shoes.
That only happened after college.
I was still working as a model when I got a very lucrative offer to star in a movie—a porn movie. I said no at first, but when I saw the man I’d be, ahem, co-starring with, I started having second thoughts. And for a very simple reason—he looked a lot like Parker. Sure, the voice was off, and he didn’t tower over me like my stepfather did, nor his body was as perfect as I needed it to be… But there were a few resemblances, and I found myself signing a contract just so that I could get the chance to live out a fantasy of mine.