All eyes in the room were on me as I spoke. “Your contract, sir, is akin to masturbating with a cheese grater—slightly amusing, but mostly just painful.”
“It’s a standard contract, Marion,” the well-groomed, three-piece-suit-wearing shyster persuaded. “It’s very generous.”
“It’s Mary Anne, not Marion, but you can call me Miss Mary Anne. The only generosity I see here is toward Good Knight Productions, and this is only a ‘standard contract’ if we’d met at midnight, at a crossroads, under the full moon. HGT and the Princess Conclave will not sell our souls to some B-movie Satans in suits.”
“So, no deal, then?” Lancelot asked me. Unlike his army of lawyers, assistants, PR people, and others, he was smiling.
I smiled back at him, ignoring his roaming, lusty eyes. “We can deal, but we’ll all deal fairly. The way I see it, Good Knight needs us; we don’t require you.”
“It’s a lot of money on the table, Mary Anne...I mean, Miss Mary Anne.”
“Yeah, Mary,” Ginger blurted. “We’re talking millions, here.”
My friends and Johnny were also in the conference room. We were seated around a huge table, roughly the size of my first apartment, gleaming steel and glass to my left, an art-carved wall on my right depicting various men and women in provocative poses. As I’d anticipated, my friends’ exuberant personalities served as a strategic distraction. Their bouncing breasts, off-color commentary, and incessant, horny debauchery kept the legal eagles stammering and stuttering, giving me a huge advantage.
“It certainly seems to be, at least, on the surface, but if you delve deeper, you’ll see that the offer is for a one-year, exclusive contract, and the financial compensation represents roughly fifty percent of what we’ll earn in a year on our own. That’s provided I’m up-to-date on our numbers.”
“You’re endangering millions of dollars here, Miss,” one of the generic lawyers spouted.
“Nonsense.” I hushed him with a wave of my hand. “Translating all this legalese, your contract basically states that you own the characters, everything we’ve ever produced or might produce in the future, and all of HGT’s content as well. Is that not correct?”
Lancelot laughed hysterically at that and poured himself another glass of milk from the crystal pitcher beside him. He raised his dairy-filled wine glass to me in a salute.
“And just what makes you think that you’re in any position to bargain?” another faceless Good Knight representative queried.
That was my opening. I’d been reverse-marketing them since before the meeting even began. After undermining their bullshit contract, I created curiosity about their needs. Their interest was piqued, and, through negative reinforcement, I was now ready to pitch our deal.
“The fact that Good Knight Production’s stocks have been slowly slipping over the past five years, coupled with the fact that your viewership has dropped off dramatically in the past five quarters, makes me think that I’m in a position to bargain.”
“That’s not true. I don’t know where you get your data from, but our conglomerate is in perfectly fine shape.”
“Say that again, so I can watch your nose grow, Pinocchio. Your shares have been devalued to barely over half of what they were just a year ago. The fact that you haven’t produced any new content, except for boring, trope-filled soft-core porn, in that time illustrates that your writers and producers aren’t worth the money you pay them. You’re eager to jump on our popularity to increase your brand's popularity.”
“Alright, alright,” Lancelot interrupted. He was jovial, truly enjoying this. “What do you propose? Maybe we can come to a mutually amicable agreement.”
I heard Johnny sigh in relief. Ever since the offer came through two nights ago, he has only been able to see dollar signs.
I nodded and raised my glass of scotch toward him. “First off, page seventeen, subsection thirty-two, content rights. It says, ‘Good Knight Productions shall retain sole ownership of any and all content created by the actors, staff, crew, representatives, affiliates, and agents.’ Since we broadcast under HGT’s umbrella, that gives your company complete control over RubHub, Dream Cams, and ourselves, does it not?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Go do something lawyer-like, will you? GKP may have the revocable privilege of airing or using any content at their discretion, provided that ten percent of the revenues the use of such content generates is paid to HGT.”
“As I stated,” the demonic attorney began, “this is our standard contract and is not open for negotiation.”
“You’re fired!” Lancelot chimed in. “Unless you can keep your big mouth shut. Let her speak.”
“Thank you. As I was saying, you may partner with us, but you may not own us. Now, let’s go through the contract line by line until we have an agreement.”
I turned to one of the corporate aides. “Order us lunch, please. This will take some time.”
The stenographer got a workout that day. Over several hours, I renegotiated their contractual indentured servitude into a mutually fair partnership agreement. Good Knight Productions would not own us. Furthermore, any content they produced would be freely and equally shared between Mr. Rock’s companies and theirs. I had to compromise on the revenues, giving up a few points to solidify my “in perpetuity” clause, but it was worth it.
Finally, I'd secured not only one point five million dollars up-front for my friends but an additional quarter million for Jonathon Rock. By not taking the larger sum that was offered at the onset, I was able to finagle creative control, residual income, and the right to use their broadcast content on HGT’s venues. Overall, it should increase our revenues by at least seventy percent over the next two years. Of course, there were certain safeguards in place. If we failed to produce, if monies owed were not paid, or if any other calamity ensued, both companies would be protected.
The old contract was torn up, leaving a freshly printed partnership agreement in its stead. We all signed it. However, it wasn’t yet time to celebrate.
“Now, content,” one of the production representatives said. She’d been sitting off to one side the entire time. “We went with your title, Trad Wife. Not only does it tap into an emerging trend, but it also opens doors for lots of plot development in the future. For our premier script, we have this in store for you.”
My friends’ faces were aghast. However, I ignored them and smiled politely as I took the offered script. Tearing up the script, I felt triumphant when I noted that my friend’s and the Good Knight Productions people’s expressions swapped. The corporate smut-slingers’ faces were now pallid.
“Under our new, signed agreement, page eight, section two, subsection one, the Production Company, which is named on page one, section two, Content Producers, has complete and total creative control. We signed on to create a reality show. Reality is what they’ll get.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Miss Mary Anne,” one of their marketing representatives disagreed. “Polls show that the viewers prefer...”
“What viewers? The ones you guys are losing in droves? Look at your own numbers. Continuing as you have is not working. It’s our way or no way.”
“She’s right.” Lancelot’s voice boomed above his lackey’s objections like roaring thunder. He turned to me. “Why don’t you come to work for me? You’re a marketing genius. I’ll make you rich.”
I smiled at him. “Because if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat. I represent the Princess Conclave first and foremost, Happy Good Times by proxy. Like my friends, Mr. Lancelot, I am not for sale.”
“Call me Lance.”
“Very well, Lance. Take your job offer and shove it up your sexy, muscular butt.” My tone was perfect—humor and irreverence. He laughed robustly.
“I expected nothing less from you.” The handsome CEO turned to Jonathon. “I see why you brought her. No wonder your net worth has increased so much in the past month.”
Lancelot bent forward, pressing a button on his intercom. “Tiffany, please clear my schedule for the rest of the evening. I’m taking our new partners out to celebrate.”
My friends jumped for joy, high-fiving each other and all smiles. Luscious breasts jiggled and bounced.
“No fucking lawyers, though,” Kia lamented.
“Yeah,” Kat said. “Lawyers are like nukes. Once you use them, they fuck everything up.”
“I’ll need to pass on the wild orgy,” I sighed.
“What?”
“Huh?”
“You have to come, fearless leader.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s so much work to be done. I’m going to go have a nice, quiet dinner, then get the house ready for shooting.”
The sound of champagne bottles being uncorked filled my ears as I left. I was satisfied; I’d saved my friends from what could have been a huge mistake. It’s very easy to get caught up in the exciting moment when a big stack of money is in front of your face. However, if an offer seems too good to be true, it probably is.
My job was done for the moment. I needed some time to absorb what I’d just agreed to do. I was now a paid performer for the largest adult entertainment network in the country. Additionally, I was still an unpaid producer for the Princess Conclave. All I had wanted was to be a housewife, but life happened while I made other plans.
“Mary Anne! Wait up!” Johnny’s voice expressed genuine concern. “Are you okay?”
I stopped and turned to face him. He was jogging up to me, ignoring the stares from everyone else in the hallway.
“I’m fine, tiger. I just need to emotionally prepare, and I wasn’t kidding about getting dinner. I’m hungry.”
He smiled. “If I recall, I owe you a dinner from our disastrous first date. My treat.”
“Oh, fuck, no! I can’t be seen with you out in public when I’m dressed like this. You’re a smut mogul. You should only be seen out and about with sexily dressed eye candy. It’s bad optics to be out with somebody dressed in a pantsuit.”
“Lucky you. There’s a designer boutique just down the road. I won’t take, ‘No,’ for an answer. We’ll buy you something you deem appropriate and celebrate your victory quietly.”
“Our victory, not mine.”
“Whatever. You rocked! If I may?” He extended his elbow, allowing me to link arms with him.
“You look hot in a suit,” I told him, giggling. My hand snaked down and outward, smacking his butt. “As soon as we get home, I want you out of those pants, so you can fuck me. Keep the jacket and tie on, though.”
Bella’s Boutique was a shopaholic's dream. Sexy, alluring, and demure dresses, tops, skirts, and pants lined the high-class establishment. A medium gray one instantly caught my eye. With understated elegance, it was sultry and perfectly cut for my figure. It was even in my size.
“I like that one, but it’s too expensive. Let’s go someplace less pricey.”
“Mary Anne, you just made us all rich. I can afford it.”
“Mind your pennies, and your dollars will mind themselves—housewife wisdom.”
“You’re a fucking genius. Don’t get me wrong; you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, but that’s perfect. You should do stuff like that in your show; really play up the Trad Wife angle.”
I sighed. “Let’s make a deal. You don’t bring up the fucking show again, tonight, and I’ll indulge you in your wildest fantasy.”
Johnny laughed at that. His guffaws were music to my ears. “What if I wanted you to dress up like Wonder Woman, tie me up with your golden lariat, and make me tell the truth?”
“Sounds hot. There’s a costume shop down the street.”
“Just kidding. Go try on the dress.”
It just so happened that the low back of the dress and the way the material of the skirt portion draped against my body made it impossible to wear my sensible underwear. I’d dressed for business, not a night out on the town. The uncomfortable, heavy-duty undergarments found their way into my purse.
“So, does this dress make you want to tear it off of me and throw me down, right here in the middle of this store, and take me?”
“You’re psychic too?”
“I’ll take this one,” I told the salesman.
The restaurant blew me away. I’d grown accustomed to a fancy night out meaning a local steakhouse and maybe a movie. The parking lot looked like an episode of “Overpriced Cars of the Rich and Famous,” complete with valet parking. Everything shone with metropolitan style. Gleaming chrome, lush rugs, and bluish mood lighting dominated the interior. The clientele was a veritable who’s who of the region, and I felt outclassed.
“Mr. Rock,” the maître d' said as soon as we’d entered. “Not dining alone, I see. Your usual table?”
“You’re a regular here?”
“Yes,” Johnny replied. “When I have to be in the big city, I always dine here.”
“Impressive. Do they know who you are?”
“It’s not like I’m a big shot, but they know the color of my money.”
The service was amazing. I honestly felt like a princess, minus my conclave.
“So,” I began, “you wanted me to dress up like Wonder Woman?”
“Not really; it was just the first thing that came to mind.”
“So, Johnny, tell me what turns you on.” It was the perfect topic to discuss over dinner.
“Believe it or not, I’m not as crazy as you’d think. I know, running an adult empire makes it sound like I’m some huge horn dog, and I am, but I’m really into assertive women that take what they want, sexually, and know how to work up a man’s mind. The wilder and crazier a woman is, the more I get off on it.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t sit in your office all day, whacking off to your content?”
He blushed, then shrugged. “Sometimes, sure. But that’s just for the pleasure. Mainly, I want a woman who isn’t afraid to be sexual… all the time. That’s probably why I can’t get you out of my head. The actresses are just faking it; you’re genuinely sexy and hot. That makes a world of difference.”
“Why, thank you. Elaborate, please.”
“Huh?”
“You’re into aggressively sexy women that talk dirty and are wild and crazy. Is that what you just said?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“How wild?”
“I have no limits.”
“Let’s test that theory of yours.” I took a nice bite of my steak. It was juicy and perfect, one of the best steaks I’ve ever eaten. “Our waitress. Did you notice her nice ass?”
“Umm, no. I’m with you,” he stuttered.
“Which means you did, but you’re worried I’d get jealous. No hiding, remember? Did you notice her ass?”
“Okay, you win. Yes! She has an incredible butt on her.”
“Yes, she does,” I agreed. “I’d like to pull down her sexy, black pants and spank that round, little rump of her until her lacy thong panties are soaked. Then, I’d rip them off of her, gag her by stuffing them into her mouth, and lick her juicy cunt until she screamed. and I want you to watch me do it.”
“Fuck, you’re making me hard.”
“That’s the idea. I get off on it, too. If I were wearing any panties, they’d be soaked right now. Does it turn you on to know that your slut is nude beneath her new dress, tiger?”
“Too bad all these people are around, or I’d…” his voice trailed off.
“Do what, Johnny. Tell me. Play along.”
“I’d, um, check for myself.”
Looking him in the eyes, I plucked one of my unused forks from the linen-covered table and ceremoniously let it drop to the floor in front of my chair.
“Oops,” I purred. “I dropped my fork. Be a good boy, tiger, and get it for me.”
I watched as he slowly got up from his plush chair and crawled under the table. I draped the tablecloth over my body and spread my thighs wide open for his viewing pleasure. My pussy was already saturated; the affluent restaurant, the company, and the day’s events had me so aroused that I probably would have seriously pondered fucking everyone in the place. My hand dropped between my legs, parting my sodden petals, one finger dancing up and down over my slit.
A red-faced Johnny emerged from under the table. “Got your fork.” He offered it to me.
“Yes, I do want to fork. Guess what I’m doing right now.”
“Making me horny.”
“Oh, you’re not the only one. I’m so turned on right now that my hand is still between my legs. I’m fingering my wet cunt right now, here in the middle of the restaurant. Is that wild enough for you?”
“Check, please!”
We waited, my business partner and new lover enthralled, for the check. All the while, my fingers were busy, soaking my cunt, flicking my clit, and making me moan.
“Call me a slut, Johnny. I get so fucking wet when I’m treated like a fuck toy.”
“Slut,” he said softly, timidly.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, almost loud enough to draw the attention of the nearby diners. “My pussy just gushed liquid heat. I think I’m so fucking hot that I burned my hand.”
“You are a kinky slut, Mary Anne,” he said, gaining confidence.
I don’t know how loud it was, but I heard the sloshing slurp when I thrust my finger inside my dripping hole. I finger-fucked myself, my other fingers stimulating my swollen nub, watching Johnny’s face grow awash with horny need.
“Do you want me to fuck a random stranger while you watch? I’d do that for you if you promise to fuck me hard afterward. I could... oh, fuck, I’m going to cum right here... crawl under the table and suck you off.”
“Your check, sir,” our waitress said. Looking at me, her face grew concerned. “Are you alright, ma’am? You look flushed. Are you ill?”
“I’m, ummm, fine,” I sighed. “Too much wine, that’s all.”
I was on the cusp of cumming, but I tried to hold myself there until she’d retreated. As soon as she turned her back, I bit my lip to keep from screaming, and a thrilling orgasm shot through my body. My breathing was coming in panting moans as I tried to maintain my composure. All the while, a staccato burst of bliss coursed through my core, and my body writhed in response. Johnny just stared at me, a half-smile on his flushed face.
When my orgasm subsided, I withdrew my finger from my cunt and held it up. My finger and entire hand were soaked to the point of dripping. “I taste like honey,” I told him, then I sucked my juices off my finger and hand.
“Hotel or home?” My date asked me as soon as we’d gotten into his car.
I hiked up my dress, spread my legs, and rested my feet on the dashboard. “Take me home, so you can fuck me all night.”
The drive to my house was nearly an hour, not counting the time it took to get out of the city. I used every second to my complete advantage.
“Pull out your cock for me. I want to drool over it, anticipating how hard you’re going to fuck me, while I finger myself.”
Johnny pulled it out, and I stroked it to hardness.
“Do you want to cum on my ass, tits, or face?” I paused. “I know. You’re a dirty, fucking pervert, aren’t you, you smut-peddler? You want to fuck my slutty mouth and shoot your wad down my throat. Or, maybe, you want to watch me get gang-fucked and covered in cum while you ravage my ass, telling me what a filthy whore I am. Am I your dirty, filthy whore, Johnny?”
My left hand was furiously pumping his erect hardness, and my right hand abused my twat. I moaned loudly. As he took an on-ramp, veering onto the highway, I shuffled my position and kneeled on the seat, taking his cock in my mouth. My mouth plunged over his shaft, slurping as I savored his hardness.
“Do you want me to pull my dress up, so other drivers can see my slutty ass while I suck you off?”
When I said that, his cock grew thicker and harder. I had found his kink.
“You do it, tiger. Expose my butt to the world while I finger my cunt.”
His shaking hand reached out for my dress, violently pulling it up over my body. His hips began pumping up and down.
“That’s it. Fuck your whore’s face.”
A truck’s air horn blasted beside us, startling me. I stopped sucking and turned my head around, waving at the appreciative teamster. Feeling very wanton, I swiveled around in my seat, placing one outstretched leg on either side of the window. As the trucker watched, pacing us, I fingered my aching hole, soaking the car seat. Then, I withdrew my fingers and drew a little heart on the window with my cum-saturated finger.
“Command your slut to suck your cock. Own me.”
“Suck it, slut.” Finally, he was getting into the spirit of things.
“Keep going,” I begged, spinning around once more and lunging down to suck his glistening cock. On my knees, my ass up in the air for all to see, I attacked my pussy with frenzied need, my hand fucking my hole, flicking my clit, and circling around my asshole until shivers went up my spine.
“Suck it, you fucking slut. Take my cock. Fuck me with your face, whore.”
“That’s it, you fucking stud. Tell me what to do. I’m so close. I’m going to cum again.”
I fingered myself, possessed by lust, knowing that others were watching from their cars and trucks, and getting off on Johnny’s verbal filth.
“Take it all the way, you fucking slut. Pump my cock and suck my cum out. I’m going to cum, you dirty whore. Drink it all. Unnnggh, aaah.”
My free hand was fucking my pussy so hard that my knuckles were soaked, and a powerful orgasm overtook my body exactly when another air horn erupted. My mewling moans, as I pumped my mouth up and down his cock, made him erupt into my mouth. Johnny’s release was so intense that he almost lost control of the car, but I didn’t care. We could have wrecked right then, and it would only have added to the intense thrill.
I drank his cum, making sure to leave some on my tongue and lips, so I could show my boyfriend what a good slut I am. I played with myself the entire way home, showing off for truckers, and dirty-talking until his cock was fully erect and throbbing once more.
“Do you want to come in and fuck your slut?” I asked.
“I’d love to, but you have a full schedule, don’t you?”
“Well,” I said, looking at my watch. “I have to get the house cleaned and make sure everything is perfect; plus, I’ll need to go shopping for more food since there will be an entire production crew along with the Princess Conclave. I need to plan the girls’ individual shows, and the Halloween extravaganza is just around the corner.”
“I understand. Good night.”
“Not so fucking fast! I don’t need to get up until seven. That gives us at least five hours to fuck.”
To be continued...
