Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I didn’t have to give in, though, did I? I had come to LA to game the system, the same way I had done in Harristown, except that I would use my experience to game it more effectively. I was here in this bar because I wanted a month’s allowance from this billionaire, and I knew I could get it. Christian G had clearly liked what he had seen, when he had tuned into my intimate photo session.
My body’s response didn’t matter; that was my affair alone. It didn’t matter that I had gone to the lingerie shop, and used this guy’s money not to buy groceries but to do as he had instructed and get myself the pretty things I now had on under my romper. It didn’t matter how self-conscious I had felt, waiting here for him, squirming in my seat every two minutes at the strange feeling of the lacy thong over my newly smooth pussy and in my freshly waxed bottom-crack.
I could string him along. Hell, he had seen me naked already; I could let him see what his money had bought—the underwear, not the girl. I had already fulfilled the necessary condition to get my subsidy extended, by showing up for this date. I would get a month’s allowance, and then… well, I wouldn’t ghost him, because that seemed just as stupid as refusing to answer the door in Harristown. But I definitely wouldn’t give up my virginity to him to get an allowance, as if I were some kind of escort with my first time up for sale.
I felt the blush fade from my cheeks, and I impressed myself by putting a bright smile on my face.
“So you’re in the… the industry, I guess you all call it?” I asked, hearing in my voice exactly the mixture of innocence and curiosity I’d hoped to put into my words. Yeah, I could do this.
Christian nodded, chuckling a little. Dammit. How could he do that to me? At least the electric thrill that traveled up and down my limbs at the sound of his laughter didn’t result in another blush.
“That or the business,” he replied. “Yeah, I make movies.”
“Produce them?” I guessed.
He nodded. “Yeah, though for me it’s not just about giving somebody else a ton of cash and hoping the folks will come see the movie. I’m not a creative, but I have really good instincts for what’s going to work on film.”
My heart had started to beat a little faster, and to my surprise it didn’t have to do with sex at all—except maybe to the extent that what Christian said, or really the way he said it, made me want to get closer to him. I didn’t think I’d ever met a man so obviously passionate about what he did for a living.
“So, like, blockbusters? Or smaller stuff?” I didn’t have to feign an interest; I liked movies as much as the next girl.
“A mix,” Christian told me. “I’m not one of those producers who hates the big films on principle and claims he only makes them to pay the bills for the smaller, artier stuff. I’m really proud of all my work—if I can’t see myself being proud of it, I don’t make it.”
Dammit, I thought again. I couldn’t help liking him. In a moment of honesty, inside my head, I saw that my virginity was definitely on the table. Not the other stuff—the twisted stuff Mary and Patty had seemed to take for granted: not ‘guidance’ and ‘discipline,’ whatever those words might mean.
The server came to take our order—she had ignored me completely, of course, before Christian arrived.
“I’ll have a Woodford Reserve, neat,” he told her, “and the lady will have a glass of Veuve Clicquot.”
My lips opened, but no sound of protest came out—either to say that I was under age or to object that I would order for myself, thank you very much. The blood heated my cheeks yet again, and to my horror I squirmed in my seat as I felt a matching warmth between my thighs. At least Christian had his attention focused on the waitress for the moment; he couldn’t have noticed my humiliating little movement.
“What’s…?” I asked in a whisper as the server receded, hesitating before I tried to pronounce the foreign words.
“Champagne,” Christian replied, smiling. “You’re going to love it.”
He didn’t seem to feel any need to apologize for ordering for me, or to call any attention to it. I spent a moment trying to figure out if I should say something, because the clarity I thought I had found a few seconds ago seemed to have vanished. I forced the smile back onto my face, and I thought of the goal: one month’s allowance.
“Have I seen any of your movies?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t watch arty things—very much, anyway—but I love rom-coms and a lot of sci-fi.”