by Velvet
Mason’s apartment was just a few blocks away, and she could have walked but wanted to arrive in style. Besides, she didn’t have on walking shoes. She introduced herself to his doorman, and waited while he called up and announced her arrival.
“Damn, Baby.” Mason stood back and took in her new look. She looked completely different from the other day, when she had worn jeans and a blazer. “You look scrumptious.” He hadn’t expected Terra to show up looking like she just stepped off the pages of Black Tail. He’d invited her over to talk, so that he could get a feel of whether or not he could tell her the truth about his past. He was in love with Terra and didn’t want any secrets between them. Secrets were like dormant cancer cells, waiting to strike when your defenses were down. He was experiencing a serious bout of detrimental secrets and wanted to stop the cancer before it spread, but watching her stand there with her nipples poking through the dress, all he could think about was making love to her.
She turned around so that he could get the full view. “You like what you see?”
“Like?” He pulled her to him. “I love!”
Terra wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her titties into his chest. “Good. I bought this dress just for you.”
He leaned down and put his lips dangerously close to hers, so close that he could smell the fruity scent of her lip gloss. “You wore this for me?” he asked, nearly touching her lips with his.
“I sure did,” she said softly.
Mason moved his lips to her neck and took a deep whiff. “Did you wear this intoxicating perfume for me too?”
“Uh hum,” she moaned, unable to get out a proper sentence because he was mesmerizing her with his subtle seduction.
Mason pressed his groin into her crotch. “What else did you wear for me?” He rubbed her ass through the dress and didn’t feel any thong or panty lines.
The sexual tension was building and Terra felt herself getting moist with every word he spoke. “Nothing. Just the dress.”
“So, if I reached my hand underneath your dress right at this very moment, I would feel nothing but your sweet wet pussy?”
“And how do you know it’s wet?”
“Because my dick is like a Geiger counter, and gets hard once it detects heat from a wet pussy,” he said, ever so slowly lifting the hem of her dress.
“So your dick is hard?” she asked, moving her hips into his rising erection.
“As Chinese arithmetic.” Mason rubbed her smooth outer thigh, moved his hand around to her ass, and softly rubbed each cheek. He watched Terra close her eyes, and knew she was putty in his hands. He was slowly seducing her and though he was enjoying every minute of their verbal foreplay, he was ready to feel his dick inside of her warm pussy before he exploded inside his pants.
“I’m really good at math,” she said, opening her lustful eyes.
Mason moved one hand around to her manicured triangle, found her clit, and began stroking the tiny piece of flesh with his index finger. “How good?”
“Good enough to solve this extremely hard problem,” she said, reaching down and massaging his balls and firm cock.
Her touch almost made him cum right then and there, but he restrained himself. Instead, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. The room was dark, except for the glow of the streetlights streaming through the slits of the miniblinds. Before laying her on top of the comforter, Mason pulled the dress over her head, exposing her perfect body. He then took off his jeans, underwear, and T-shirt, and laid his naked body next to hers.
Mason’s eyes traveled the length of her body from the curls in her hair to the polish on her toes. He drank in her beauty like a man dying of thirst. He lightly ran the palm of his hand over her honey-dipped skin. “I love you, Terra.” He finally verbalized the words that were in his heart from the first day he laid eyes on her.
“I love you too, Mason,” she confessed, to him as well as to herself.
Her words reverberated through his mind, drowning out the unsavory thoughts of Rico and his blackmail scheme. Mason was happier than he’d ever been in his life, and he wanted to savor every second of his newfound bliss, so he dismissed his plan to tell Terra about his past and instead made love to her, because at the moment that was the only thing that mattered.
22
TERRA WAS viewing life through rose-colored glasses, and everything and everyone seemed more vibrant and alive than the day before. After making love with Mason the entire night, she felt a renewed sense of purpose, and the second she got home from his apartment the next day, she called her agent.
“Hi, FK, it’s Terra,” she said, once the assistant put her through.
“Well, hello, I haven’t heard from you since you blew the Dove audition,” Feodora said, without mincing her words. It was Feodora’s policy that her clients call in after an audition to let her know how the reading went. If the audition was a success, the wannabe actors would call her bubbling over with confidence that they had nailed the part, but if they bombed, she wouldn’t hear from them for weeks.
“I know I should have called you, but I’ve been so preoccupied lately,” she said, thinking of Mason. “Anyway, I was calling to have you set me up with a screen test. I’m tired of going on go-sees, and I’m ready to audition for a juicy movie role,” she informed her agent, using the clout that her last name bought her.
“This must be your lucky day. I just got off the phone with Searchlight, and they’re casting for an upcoming urban romance film. If you’re interested, I’ll messenger over a copy of the script. The reading is tomorrow, so you’ll have plenty of time to memorize your lines.” Feodora knew that Terra wasn’t the most talented actress in her stable, but she was the richest, so she tossed her a bone every now and then—not that she expected Terra to catch it—to keep her happy. Besides, it enhanced her agency’s profile to have an heiress on the roster.
“Thanks, FK, and I promise I’m going to nail it this time,” she reassured her agent.
“Let’s hope so. By the way, what’s happening with the studio Sage Hirschfield is building? I’ve called around and the only thing I found out is that he bought an old soundstage in Long Island City and is having it renovated.”
Terra didn’t have any information. Sage was being so close-mouthed about his plans that she had no idea when the studio would be up and running. After boasting about Sage being an old family friend, she was embarrassed to tell Feodora that she was totally clueless. “I talked to him the other day and he said the renovations are taking longer than he expected,” she said, lying to save face.
“Well, keep me updated on the studio’s progress since you have the inside track. And you can expect the script within the hour,” Feodora said, and hung up.
Sure enough, sixty minutes later, a messenger delivered the script with a note from Feodora telling Terra which part to study. Terra dove right into the story and read the screenplay from beginning to end, to get a feel for the movie—which was a cross between The Best Man and G—before she began rehearsing her lines. The part she was reading for wasn’t the main character, but she didn’t mind because her character was a feisty, around the way girl from the Bronx, which was in sharp contrast to herself. Terra had worked with a dialect coach before so she knew how to change her proper speaking voice into that distinctive, boogie-down Bronx tone. She read and reread her lines until three o’clock in the morning. When she was confident that she knew every single word, she turned off the lights and went to bed.
The next morning, Terra dressed the part of Roxanne, a smart-talking tomboy, and put on a pair of tight jeans, a midriff shirt, a pair of Timberlands, and stuffed her hair underneath a Yankees baseball cap. Even though the script didn’t call for it, she decided to chew a wad of bubble gum to help bring the character to life. Terra called Leroy and told him to pick her up at eleven-thirty. The audition was at one and she didn’t want to be late. On the ride downtown, she rehearsed her lines again, because she didn’t want a reo
ccurrence of the Dove audition, when she flubbed her lines three times. Today, she had the dialogue down cold and had no intention of blowing the screen test.
Unlike the hordes of women waiting their turn in front of the camera at the Dove soap commercial, there was no one there other than the receptionist when she stepped off the elevator. She walked over to the desk and introduced herself.
“Go right on in, Ms. Benson. The casting director is ready for you,” the receptionist said, pointing to the door across from her desk.
Terra loved this civilized method, much better than the chaotic cattle call. She reached into her tote, took out two pieces of Dubble Bubble, unwrapped the pink thick pieces, and stuck the gum in her mouth. Now she was ready, and was calm and collected when she entered the room. “Hi. I’m Terra Benson,” she said, shaking the director’s hand.
He took in her appearance and nodded with approval. “I see you got the look of Roxanne down cold. Now let’s see how you translate that to film. I’m going to read the part of Jessica, her best friend.” He flipped through the script. “Let’s start at the top of page one-o-six, the scene where Roxanne is trying to talk Jessica out of marrying Enrique.”
Terra knew exactly what scene he was taking about, and had the lines completely memorized. “Jessica, yew know as well as I do dat Enrique ain’t no good for yew,” she said in a heavy Bronx accent.
“But I love him, Rox,” the casting director said.
“What yew love about him? He’s a playa wit women in every borough.”
“He told me that his playing days are over.”
“And yew believe dat?” Terra was nailing the lines, and started smacking on the gum to really bring Roxanne to life.
“Why shouldn’t I believe him?”
“’Cuz.” She blew a huge bubble and popped it. “He ain’t nothin’ but a user who just wants yew fo yo money,” she said, popping another bubble.
“Cut!” said the director. “Where’d the gum come from? It’s distracting. Take it out.”
Terra was caught completely off guard. She thought the gum was a good prop; it was helping her get into character. She didn’t want to argue with him, so she removed the wad of gum and continued with her lines. “Enrique hasn’t had a job in two years, and…”
“Cut!” the director yelled. “What happened to your Bronx accent? The line is supposed to be, ‘Enrique ain’t had no job in two years.’”
Terra didn’t realize that she’d dropped the accent, and tried to pick it back up, but the director’s yelling was beginning to make her nervous. “Okay, got it.”
“Take three,” he said before she began again.
“Enrique ain’t had no job in two years,” she said with an accent.
“Cut! What type of accent is that?”
“It’s a Bronx accent,” she said sheepishly.
“Bronx by way of Boston. It’s more Boston than Bronx, which isn’t good, since the movie takes place uptown. Okay, it was great meeting you. I’ll have my assistant call your agent,” he said, abruptly ending the screen test.
“Wait a minute. Give me one more chance. I know the lines,” she pleaded.
“It’s not the lines I’m worried about, it’s the accent, and I’m afraid you just don’t have it down cold,” he said bluntly.
She took his criticism like a pro, thanked him for the opportunity, and left. Terra couldn’t believe she had blown another audition. She needed to land a part and soon before FK dropped her from the roster. At this point, her only saving grace was Sage. If only he would agree to give her a chance. Then she could tell her agent that she had landed a starring role in a major production. Terra was at a crossroads and had to come up with a solution and quick.
“Leroy, drop me off at the Hirschfield building,” she told her driver the second she got in the car.
On the way over to Sage’s office, Terra thought about her foiled attempt at seducing him. Maybe if she had slept with him a few months ago when he was after her, then she wouldn’t be in the position of having to beg him to star in one of his films. Now that she was in love with Mason, sleeping with Sage wasn’t an option any longer. Her best bet at this point was to try to appeal to his sensitive side and hope that he would feel sorry for her and give her a much needed break.
23
SAGE HAD been in secretarial hell for the past two weeks. Pearl had been hospitalized with a serious case of influenza and now she was at home recuperating. Being the ever-efficient assistant that she was, Pearl called daily to check in, and Sage reassured her that everything at the office was under control and running smoothly. He lied through his teeth during every call, but he didn’t want her to worry; he just wanted her to hurry up and recover so that she could come back and rescue him from the stream of incompetent temps. One temp was worse than the others and he was at his wit’s end; they couldn’t keep his schedule straight let alone construct a proper letter. The only thing they were useful for was running errands, and even then he had to give explicit instructions and write a note for a coffee run, so the order wouldn’t be screwed up.
“Mr. Hirschfield, a Mr. Snyderman is here to see you,” the temp said, poking her head through his office door.
Sage was on the phone with his attorney, and held up his index finger, indicating that she should wait a minute. “Okay, Bob. Yes, that sounds great. I’ll keep an eye out for that contract. Okay, talk to you soon,” he said, hanging up.
“Come in for a second.” He waved her over. Once she was standing in front of his desk, Sage handed her a pink slip of paper. “I need for you to pick up my dry cleaning. The address of the cleaners is on the top of the ticket, and on your way back, bring two double espressos with a little skim milk in both.” He scribbled down the order on his memo pad, tore off the small sheet of paper, and handed it to her. “Thanks, Lucy. You can send in Mr. Snyderman now.”
Sage hadn’t seen Roy since their naughty sexcapade with Lena. He’d kept his self-imposed vow and remained extremely professional during their many telephone calls regarding the studio. The final plans had been approved and the renovation was back on schedule. Today Sage was meeting with Roy to choose paint colors, light fixtures, flooring, and furniture for the executive offices within the studio. Though Roy was an architect, his company had an in-house interior design department and he oversaw the projects of his A-list clients, and Hirschfield Multimedia was at the top of that list.
“How’s it going, Roy?” Sage asked, shaking the architect’s hand.
“It’s going great. I’ve been busier than a worker bee. Just got back from the West Coast yesterday,” he said, walking into the office and closing the door behind him.
“Busy’s better than being idle.” Sage got up from his desk and went over to the mini conference table.
“This is true. Keeps me out of trouble,” Roy said, cutting his eyes at Sage and slightly raising his left brow.
Sage took one look at the sly expression on Roy’s face and knew that he was thinking about the unexpected blow job at Lena’s apartment. Men gave the best head and Sage couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that delicious surprise. “Some of us love trouble,” Sage shot back.
Roy set the bag of color swatches, catalogues, and flooring samples on the oval table and stood directly in front of Sage. “Did you know my middle name is trouble?” he asked, taking Sage’s cue and running his hand up and down the lapel on Sage’s gabardine suit jacket.
Sage knew that he was treading in dangerous waters flirting with Roy, but their cat and mouse game was thrilling and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He should have stopped Roy from going further, but his dick had already responded to Roy’s seductive words and was growing harder by the second. I could use a quick blow job. Besides, the silly temp is out on an errand, and no one is in the outer office, he thought, trying to justify breaking his self-imposed vow.
Sage took a step closer. “Is that trouble with a capital ‘T’?”
“A capital
‘T’ and double ‘b,’” he said, sliding his hand from Sage’s lapel down to his belt buckle.
“What’s the extra ‘b’ for?” Sage asked suggestively.
Roy unbuckled Sage’s belt, unzipped his pants, and flipped his swollen cock out through the zipper. “For Big.” He rubbed his hand along the length of Sage’s shaft. “And I must say, you have one of the biggest cocks I’ve ever seen. The head is so full and round that I’m just dying to suck it again.” He caressed the circumference. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked rhetorically, dropping to his knees without waiting for an answer.
Sage unbuttoned his pants and took them off, along with his boxer briefs, backed up slightly, sat on the edge of the conference table, and cocked his legs wide open to give easier access. “Be my guest.”
Roy flicked out his tongue and licked Sage’s balls before putting the entire scrotum in his mouth; he sucked the meaty sack until Sage squirmed with pleasure. He then took his right hand and guided Sage’s long rod inside of his mouth. Roy began sucking both his dick and balls at the same time, while lightly fingering his ass.
“Oh…shit…you…got…mad skills,” Sage gasped. He had never had his balls and dick sucked simultaneously and the sensation was orgasmic. He didn’t want to come just yet, because he was enjoying the hell out of Roy’s oral dexterity, so he closed his eyes to concentrate on staying hard.
Roy grabbed the cheeks of Sage’s naked ass and pulled him off of the table and closer to him, so that Sage’s dick was nearly down his throat. He had given so many blow jobs in his life that his gag reflexes were permanently numb, so he didn’t choke like most women did when a dick hit the back of their tonsils. He deep-throated Sage until he tasted the salty semen leaking out of his tiny slit, then sucked even harder to extract more of the tasty cum. They were so wrapped up giving and receiving pleasure that they didn’t hear the door quietly open.