Just The Tip: A Manning Brothers Novel

by Cassandra Dee

  “Hey yourself,” I growled. I know I have a slight Euro accent. I grew up in Italy, coming to the United States for college, naturally retaining that old world refinement that fashion executives cultivate.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, smiling at me, those blue eyes teasing me. I forced myself to look at her face, drinking in the luscious lips, the curve of her cheek, the perfect tilt of her chin.

  “I’m Rafe Connor,” I growled again. “CEO of Levast Corp., we’re the holding company for the Jason Alexander brand.”

  “Oh I know who you are,” she said with a wink. “I’ve been doing some research on Levast’s financials and I read your latest shareholder letter in the Annual Report.”

  I was floored. Evidently, the girl was literate, and not only that, but she’d probably looked over the financials as well, a mix of numbers and accounting that wasn’t for the faint of heart. Levast has a lot of different interests and it’s not easy to understand the intricacies of corporate finance.

  The blonde was smiling again, as if knowing my thoughts. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Connor?”

  Well, suck my dick for one, I thought silently. Make me come again and again until my cares are washed away, and the stress is gone. Let me pound you into submission from behind. Let me explore all your holes, and spray my come on your face and in your body until I’m a sated.

  But I said nothing of that sort. The make-up assistant was still watching our interaction breathlessly, and I could see a number of hairdressers and seamstresses discreetly watching from the corner of their eyes.

  “Ms. Walsh,” I said courteously. “Thank you for participating in our show. I wanted to invite you to lunch afterwards to begin salary negotiations,” I said smoothly.

  “Oh Jenna!” squealed the make-up assistant excitedly. “Isn’t this what you were telling me about? Maybe a raise? Make sure to ask for smoothies at the craft table backstage, not just coffee and champagne,” she said breathlessly.

  Jenna was kind about the interruption.

  “Kathy, I think Mr. Connor has more serious issues on his mind, he’s running a multi-billion dollar empire,” she said. “But I’ll be sure to ask about the addition of fresh smoothies, I know it’s hard to keep your energy up on caffeine and alcohol only.”

  “Awesome!” squealed the other girl. “And bagels too,” she threw in as an aside.

  I almost laughed right there, this exchange was so ridiculous. But I nodded to the blonde and said, “Noon at Le Bern? My assistant will send a car.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said the blonde demurely, but I could see a spark in her eyes. She flashed me one last smile before saying, “Oh I’m up. Time to get out there in this exotic parrot outfit,” she said with a wink.

  And as if on cue, another wardrobe person ran up and began helping her into a contraption which looked like blue and green feathers in the shape of giant wings. It was all glittery straps with a leather harness that looked really heavy, forcing the little girl over until she was bent over double, shouldering the burden. I reached out a hand to steady the load, testing some of the weight in my hand, and frowned.

  “They always put you in stuff like this?” I asked, concerned.

  “Always,” she confirmed, straightening her back and pasting another smile on her face. “And in four inch stilettos too,” she said brightly. “Now I’ve got to walk … scoot!” she said.

  And just like that, she was gone. I could hear thunderous applause outside, more fanatical screams of “Jenna, Jenna!” as she hit the stage. I watched from the sidelines with amazement and appreciation as her grace and beauty mesmerized the crowds. Lunch sounded amazing … and I was very, very hungry.

  7

  Jenna

  I walked into the restaurant in sneakers, a welcome relief from high heels. Le Bern was a Michelin starred restaurant but I just couldn’t handle stalking around in stilettos and a mini-dress, not after a fashion show where I’d been wearing almost nothing. Instead, I’d gone for comfort in a wrap dress, something that showed off my curves without being overtly sexy, and had paired it with flat shoes, cute New Balances that were urban and trendy.

  I threw the maitre’d a bright smile even as he looked at my outfit askance.

  “Madam?” he said politely, as if hoping I would go away.

  No such luck. “Reservation for Rafe Connor,” I said with a warm smile. Something I’ve realized since switching careers is that charming with honey can get a lot more done than being a straight-up bitch. Maybe it’s because of the atmosphere in fashion. Girls are expected to be docile, like furniture almost, so it was unexpected and even discouraged to have an opinion.

  Normally, I would have shut that down immediately, making my views known, even forcing them onto other people. But my initial attempts to be my old self had backfired.

  “Hey I think this hem should be longer,” I’d said at my first fitting, pointing to the tiny little swim skirt I wore over my bikini bottoms. “It would hang better if it was longer, especially since it’s cut on the bias.”

  Jason Alexander himself, international designer extraordinaire, had shot me a dirty look but said nothing.

  “Ms. Walsh,” interrupted his assistant, “I’m sure you can understand that we’re short on time with the show in five days. Besides, Mr. Alexander designed this piece himself, all the hemming was done with a five nine model in mind.”

  “I am five nine,” I ground out. “I didn’t lie on my comp card. I’m just saying that I think this skirt would do better with a little more material, maybe look a bit more flattering.”

  This time, the designer spoke himself, his voice pure acid.

  “Listen, you’re not getting paid for your opinions, so just hang tight, yeah?” he drawled nastily, his Australian accent thick. “We only hired you because we had to, our brand owed your agency a favor. Get out if you don’t like it, see if you’ll get work anywhere else after you critique a designer.”

  And I’d shut my trap immediately. He was right, I was a model, there to show off the clothes and I’d had no idea that the Alexander brand had been forced to hire me. God, what strings had Deborah pulled? Humbled, I stood silently, letting the wardrobe assistants pinch and fuss, Alexander ignoring me entirely after that.

  And I’d expected to be fired, I admit. Evidently I’d committed some crazy breach of protocol, offending the artistic types. But instead, when I got a call from my agency about the afternoon’s incident, it was the opposite – Alexander was inviting me to a private party.

  “Do I have to?” I’d asked. “I thought that douchebag hated me,” I confided to Deborah.

  “No, of course you don’t have to,” she said reassuringly. “But Jason Alexander is a hot young designer whose star is on the up and up. Keep an open mind, you know? You never know what will happen.”

  And so I’d agreed, showing up an expensive loft in Tribeca. Shaking my head resignedly, I held tight to the champagne I’d brought. Hopefully a fancy bottle of Chateau L’Anglais would put him in a good mood.

  But my instincts weren’t off. The minute the door opened, I saw that I’d been duped. I’d been invited to a gay party – Bears and Twinks, to be specific. The bears were great big guys, hairy and beefy, and the twinks were their boytoys, simpering and eighty pounds at most. Not that I have anything against gay men, I just didn’t expect to be the only female in a room full of grinding gay dudes.

  “Hey sweetie!” called Jason, sashaying forward in a caftan. He was built like a tank and I could see right through the gauzy material. Nope, he didn’t shave down below. “Glad you could make it last minute,” he sang insincerely.

  “Th- Thanks for inviting me,” I stammered weakly, holding forth the bottle of wine. “This is Chateau L’Anglais, I hope you like it.”

  “Oh we only drink French,” he’d said dismissively. “But thanks anyways. Make yourself at home … if you can find a spot.”

  Because I could see now that this was actually a gay sex party. We were
in someone’s private apartment and they’d covered every item of furniture with plastic so that people could get down.

  And the guests weren’t wasting any time. The twinks were taking it in every conceivable position, showing off the elasticity of their bodies, their willing and supple limbs bent like circus acrobats. I could see spatters of semen everywhere, pooling and drying on the plastic tarp, condom wrappers strewn about.

  “Make yourself at home!” Alexander echoed in a singsong voice, before disappearing into the crowd.

  And I could have cried, I could have thrown a tantrum per my old ways, but instead I grit my teeth and made myself stay. It was tough, I admit. I witnessed more depravity that I’d ever imagined in my life and not that kind that’s soft-core.

  After about two hours, I said goodbye to Alexander, thanking him graciously for inviting me, although I’m not sure he could hear given that his face was planted in some other man’s butt. But I’d learned a lesson … know your place, don’t think you can get away with murder because you’re a pretty blonde. This is New York City where anything can happen, and that included my date with Rafe Connor.

  8

  Rafe

  She walked towards me with a warm smile, her hair a mass of gold down her back, her dress clingy but modest.

  “Mr. Connor, thanks for inviting me,” she said. “I’m so hungry after the morning shows, I’m going to eat like a cow.”

  I smiled at her words.

  “Call me Rafe, please. Plus, I’m sure you don’t eat like a cow, you’re svelte, perfect for modeling swimsuit attire,” I growled in response, eyeing her curves appreciatively. “Please, take a seat.”

  She dropped gracefully into the chair and threw me a teasing glance.

  “So are we really here to talk about a raise?” she asked mischievously, taking a sip of her sparkling water. I almost lost it right there. The glance she gave me over the rim of her glass was exactly what I hoped to see in an ingénue … so long as her lips were wrapped around my dick.

  “We are,” I confirmed. “Levast is prepared to pay ten thousand per show provided there’s fair play in return.”

  That made her brow crinkle.

  “Fair play?” she asked confused. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh we just want to get our money’s worth,” I said vaguely. There was no sense in bringing up the nudie pics now. I was just getting to know the girl and wanted to keep things light. “We pay you money and in return, we expect a little something, that’s all. We can work out the details with your agency. I understand you’re with Deborah?”

  The little girl still looked confused.

  “I am working with Deborah,” she said slowly. “But I’m not sure I understand. What else do you want other than walking in shows?”

  “Well,” I said nonchalantly, “Levast has exclusivity restrictions, you won’t be able to walk for any other designers, plus we expect you to be in prime physical shape, to not embarrass us … that kind of thing.”

  “Oh that,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “I can do that, no problem.”

  “Perfect then, we’re going to get along great,” I said. “Can we get some champagne here? Let’s celebrate.”

  And I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch with her.

  “Can I drop you off somewhere?” I asked once we were in my town car.

  “Um … how about your place?” she asked with a sweet flush. I liked her more and more. Evidently she’d read my mind, I just hadn’t wanted to harass her on our first business lunch. But if the woman asks for it, then I was more than willing.

  “Antonio, home please,” I said. And the black sedan did a u-turn, sweeping us into the hubbub of Greenwich Village.

  9

  Jenna

  I gasped as I entered Rafe’s townhouse.

  “You live here by yourself?” I asked, my mouth agape. I knew that as Chairman of Levast Corp., Rafe probably had some serious dough but I didn’t realize it meant a mint-condition townhouse in the heart of the Village. The building was gorgeous, five floors with a private elevator, priceless antiques scattered about.

  The big man chuckled as I looked around. “It’s just me,” he growled. “Santino comes around to keep things in order, but this place is really a giant bachelor pad.”

  Just a giant bachelor pad? Hardly. I could see an ornate Japanese garden through sliding glass doors, and was that my imagination or did those stairs lead to a basement pool? Wow, this was a far cry from what I was used to.

  It’s not that my family’s poor, it’s just that my parents divorced when we were kids, and with four girls money has always been tight. When Tina and I announced our intention to go to law school, Mom was clear that she couldn’t help with tuition.

  “Girls, I can’t,” she said with finality. “You know I’m still putting Karina and Callie through undergrad and that’s the most I can promise any of you. I was happy to give each of you four years, but no more.”

  “Ma,” I whined. “Seriously, Karina and Callie are doing work-study, plus they got grants right? You know that’s money you don’t have to pay back. Please, just a couple thousand here and there would help us sooo much,” I’d wheedled.

  Mary had frowned. “No Jenna,” she said firmly. “I can’t rob your younger sisters of their right to a college education. Besides, you and Tina are grown now while Callie and Karina are still in their teens. I’m sorry, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “Fine,” I said haughtily. “I’ll find a way, no thanks to you.”

  “Jenna,” said my mom exasperatedly. “The world doesn’t owe you anything and you’d better get yourself in check.”

  “Whatever,” I said dismissively. “I’ll find a way, you’ll see.” My mind had been running at a million miles an hour, probably already scheming how to find some rich guy in the City.

  But thinking back to that interlude, I was ashamed. I’d been so selfish, so unconcerned, even for my younger sisters. And when Tina had piped up, it’d just made me look even worse.

  “No problem Mom,” my twin had said quietly. “Jenna and I will find a way, and maybe after we start practicing law, we can even contribute to Karina’s and Callie’s educations.”

  My mom had smiled with gratitude.

  “Thanks honey but that’s not necessary. I’m not going to make you responsible for your younger sisters, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

  And this whole exchange exemplified exactly why I hated my twin. Tina was always so damn perfect, it drove me crazy. She was always doing everything right, kissing up to my mom, to our professors, making sure to get good grades, that kind of stuff. To spite her, I often acted out, acting even bitchier than normal.

  But after my start in modeling, I’d resolved to change my ways because I obviously wasn’t going to be able to rely on my looks forever. In an industry where sixteen is peak, time was already running out, and I needed to make more of myself frankly, do an attitude check before I became the Wicked Witch that no one hired.

  So I turned back to Rafe with a genuine smile. My previous self would have thrown myself at him just because he was wealthy, nothing else mattered. But the new me was more circumspect. Of course, I had to be nice, he was the CEO of Levast after all, but I wanted to develop a genuine connection, make sure we knew each other before taking the plunge.

  Unfortunately, my plans were derailed. Before we’d even moved out of the foyer, Rafe had his arms around me, seizing my mouth in a kiss. It was hot, enticing, and everything I’d dreamed of. Electricity coursed through my body, and I shivered reflexively. I’d never felt this kind of heat before.

  I moaned into his mouth and it turned on the big man even more, his arms wrapping around me tighter, his body hardening unmistakably against my own. He walked us backwards to a couch in the drawing room, lowering me carefully until I was cushioned on the soft pillows, his hard male form above me.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he growled into my mouth, his breath hot my cheek.
<
br />   “You mean, since you saw me at the fashion show?” I teased, breathless. “That was only a few hours ago,” I giggled.

  “It’s been a long time, given how hard I’ve been,” he growled, nuzzling the valley between my breasts. His breath was so tantalizing on my sensitive flesh that I arched beneath him, unconsciously offering myself to his touch. And Rafe took advantage of it. With a growl, he pulled the v-neck of my dress down, revealing first one beautiful titty, and then the other, to his ravenous gaze.

  “God, they’re perfect,” he growled before seizing a rosy tip in his mouth.

  And I moaned with pleasure, twisting in his arms. It felt so good to feel that hot mouth on my sensitive nub, jolts of lightning going straight form my nipples to my kitty, making me weak inside. I cried out, breathless, gasping, moving beneath him on the couch.

  It only spurred him on more. With a hungry rumble, he moved to my other jug, loving this one as well, suckling, teasing, running his tongue between the two nipples before cupping my tits in both hands, pushing my boobs together. Unabashed, he sucked both teats into his mouth at once and I almost creamed right there and then, it was so magnificent. Twin jolts of sensation coursed through me, my pussy positively dripping now, and I could swear the big man could smell it because he chuckled.

  “Let’s get you out of this,” he growled, his big fingers toying with the tie to my dress. But before I could undo the wrap, he’d taken the material between both big hands and ripped it open.

  “Oh!” I gasped, my body suddenly revealed to his gaze, dressed in nothing but a lacy white bra and panties, the crotch unmistakably wet.