Show & Sell: A Dark MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  Let's hear what she has to say. Maybe it’s not so bad.

  "It may be over."

  Okay. Never mind. Scratch that.

  What the fuck does that mean? Catherine seems so calm, but turns out what I thought was a smile is actually a grimace.

  Fuck, now I know exactly what it means. The realization dawns on me as I hear Charlie's voice squeak out a question, something like "what may be over?" Through my stomach-dropping anxiety, I only make out a few words in Catherine's response: website, jobs, mansion residency, sold.

  This doesn’t make sense. I thought I had it figured out. I'm here because I'm goddamn amazing at what I do. As is everyone in this room, including Catherine the Great.

  The life we have here is incredible, but it didn’t come easy. Things don’t just fall onto our laps. Everything we enjoy is well-earned through genuine dedication and endless hard work.

  It's not like somebody can just take it away.

  Can they?

  I'm at a rare loss for words. That won't keep me from speaking the fuck up, though.

  "Selling Bennet Babes? Seriously? There’s no other site of our quality. And that's because of us. How could anybody just let that all go?"

  I feel flushed and legit furious, but Catherine seems calm and starts smiling for real as she responds.

  "Oh, my sweet child. You're worried about quality and fairness? This is a business. You know that."

  "A business? We're more than just fucking assets!"

  I can see that Mary, Jane, Charlie and Lydia are transforming from fearful to confident with my lead. They're not going to sit through this shit, either. Good.

  "So, when are we going to get a say in this whole shitstorm?" Mary finally pipes up, with Jane supporting her: "Yeah, when?"

  I do my best to keep the heat on.

  "It's too late for that. Isn't it, Catherine?"

  "Lizzie…" Catherine trails off. She can't think of what to say. I almost feel bad for her as I look into the faces of my fellow Bennet Babes.

  Catherine's own stint on the site wasn't that long ago, and I realize that she's handling this the best she can. She’s just as upset about the idea as the rest of us.

  "There's nothing anyone could have done, is there?" Fuck, I can't let myself tear up. I can see Catherine already is.

  "I'm so sorry. You're right. There's nothing I could have done or can do now, realistically. But, the paperwork isn't finalized. They’re not shutting us down necessarily. Just taking over."

  "Who's 'they'?" Now it's Lydia's turn, and she’s asking the right questions.

  "Will Darcy." Catherine is back to deadpan, now.

  "Who the fuck is that?" I snap. "And who else?"

  "George 'Hawk' Wickham is the other gentleman."

  I chuckle at the name despite everything. I can almost see the quotation marks on whatever fucking contract they're waiting to sign. I'm relieved to hear the other girls laugh, as well. Yeah, we all know about former porn star Hawk Wickham.

  Catherine, on the other hand, plays it serious as she continues. "You may yet get your say. I did convince them to visit while the site is still in operation. I marked it on the calendar."

  I’ll say this for Catherine: she would never look to us for gratitude, or even a simple thanks. She does what's right for the sake of it. Plus, she still marks everything on a paper calendar in her office.

  Now everyone is looking at me for a resolution. That's what I get for speaking up. I run through my thoughts. I have no fucking clue about this Darcy dude, but Hawk Wickham has the financial chops to make this deal happen. For sure, loaded to the gills.

  To these guys, Bennet Babes is just another investment, numbers in a portfolio. If they're smart at all, they'll realize that the people in this room control the value of their investment. The power is in our hands.

  With my fellow cam ladies watching me expectedly, I deliver my ultimatum.

  "Those guys will want to keep us on. And for them to have us, they'll have to play ball. On our terms. We'll have our own stipulations ready for them."

  Darcy

  Here I was, thinking as soon as I walked into the Bennet Mansion I’d be surrounded by beautiful young girls. Instead, I’m sitting here in the lobby with George “Hawk” Wickham.

  He’s a nice enough guy, though he can be a real prick sometimes. Just one of the oh-so-many reasons I prefer being friendly rivals than associates.

  Right now, he’s sporting his bulge that’s nearly breaking open his zipper. He’s a former porn star, so it makes sense the very thought of meeting (and most likely fucking) some attractive girls would excite him. I won’t lie, it’s arousing me, too.

  Before I get the chance to open my mouth to try to give him shit about his obvious hard-on, Catherine walks in accompanied by the Bennet Babes.

  They’re all stunning. I knew that before walking in here today. But there’s one in particular who catches my eye. Even more so than when I saw her on the cam show.

  Lizzie.

  “Girls,” Catherine starts. “These are our potential buyers. You should show them what our business is all about.”

  Lizzie steps up to greet both of us. There’s an air of confidence about her that tells me she doesn’t hesitate to take charge in the bedroom.

  Like, one second you would think you’re in control, and the next she’d pin you down on your back and grab a dildo. And you’d only have a second to react before realizing she doesn’t intend to use it on herself.

  Before I even get a chance to comment on her exceptional tits, she gets right down business.

  “Look, I want to be very clear with you two gentlemen. This is our mansion. We’ve been making a great living for a while now, and as far as we see it, there’s no reason to make substantial changes. I have some demands you two should be aware of before continuing with this business venture.”

  Is it possible to get your cock hard from a woman telling you what to do? I’m impressed. Then Hawk starts laughing.

  “Jesus Christ, got a little mouth on you, don’tcha?” Hawk says. “Let me tell you, I’m always the dominant one, so you can drop the act.”

  Lizzie doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls out a folded piece of paper out of her bra. She’s wearing a black tank top that’s being held up with threads that can’t be more than a couple millimeters wide.

  I’ve been staring at her perfect tits for so long—how the hell did I miss the paper in there?

  “I wrote up some terms. First: we will never have sex with either of you on camera. Seems pretty self-explanatory, but I figured it would be best to simply get it out of the way.”

  Wait, did you catch that?

  On camera? Yeah, me too. That’s a loophole if I’ve ever seen one.

  Anyway, back to what Lizzie’s saying.

  “Next: we do what we’re comfortable with. The way I see it, you can handle the money while we handle our bodies. Third—”

  “Lizzie.”

  Catherine steps in. I completely forgot she was there, along with four other girls. Lizzie has this presence that simply demands attention.

  “There’s no reason to bog the gentlemen down in semantics right this second. Why don’t we show them around the premises? We’ll talk numbers and terms later.”

  “Yeah,” Hawk says, “why don’t you shut your pretty little mouth? I can think of at least five different things you could use it better for.”

  “Hawk. Shut the fuck up.”

  It doesn’t take much to provoke Hawk, but once you do, Jesus Christ does he get on my fucking nerves.

  “Why don’t you let me handle this, Darcy? I have experience on my side.”

  “Why don’t you be a goddamn professional so that you don’t blow this fucking deal for both of us?”

  I don’t care if Hawk screws himself out of this deal, but I’m not going to let him screw me in the process.

  Honestly, this isn’t my best moment in front of a potential client.

  I know all the ins an
d outs of this business and I got all the tricks to bag deals the way I want them. I pride myself on keeping my cool. Hell, there’s no way I’d intentionally jeopardize an opportunity like this.

  So why am I showing off?

  It’s like I’m in high school again, and I’m trying to impress the prettiest girl on the other side of the classroom. But this isn’t some silly crush. I’m here to make a deal.

  Frankly, I don’t need a woman in my life. Escorts work just fine for me at the moment. I don’t have time or interest in anything else.

  “Can I offer you two a tour?” Lizzie poses the question. From the tone of my voice, I can tell she’s fed up with the both of us and just wants to move on.

  She’s trying to take control of the situation. Strong girl. Too bad I won’t let her.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” Hawk says.

  I reply with, “Don’t bother.”

  Hawk steps outside. Maybe to get some fresh air or maybe to take a drag on his cigarette. I don’t fucking care because either way, it’s just Lizzie and me now.

  I want to take her right now. Everything about this girl just turns me on. The way she commands a room. The intelligence she displays when dealing with a dumbass like Hawk.

  If I could make a girl like that moan my name while taking my cock in all her holes, I’d feel pretty damn good about myself.

  “You seem to know your way around a spreadsheet,” I tell her.

  I take a step toward her. It’s then I realize the super short jean cutoffs she’s wearing are maybe a bit too big for her. They’re slung ridiculously low on her hips, and as I stare down, I’m able to make out the pink, lacy thong she’s wearing underneath.

  I feel like I can almost see her pussy peeking through the lace. Of course, it could simply be my imagination getting the better of me. What I wouldn’t give to pull those shorts a little further down so I can enjoy a better view.

  “Is that your best opening line?” she retorts.

  I narrow my eyes. Why am I even speaking with her? She’s not the one I need to impress. Technically, that’s Catherine.

  I have to admit, I normally wouldn’t mind watching Catherine undress, either. She used to be a Bennet Babe a while back. I bet if she were to go in front of the camera again, she’d make a killing out of guys who want to indulge in a little nostalgia.

  But Lizzie has my full attention now.

  “Give me a tour of the mansion. I need to know exactly what I’m investing in. I need to know if you’re worth it.” I emphasize the words, wondering if she’ll react to the same question she asked me when I watched her cam show.

  Business is a lot like sex. It’s all about dominance. It’s about showing the other person in the room that you didn’t come to fuck around. You want them to know that you’re there for one reason and one reason only: to fuck them in the ass.

  Of course, one situation calls for that metaphorically while the other can be more literal, depending on your personal preferences.

  My preference right now? Fucking Lizzie in her tight little pussy.

  She doesn’t bat an eye as she spins on her heel.

  “Follow me. I’ll show you where the magic happens.”

  Lizzie

  "Falling behind already?"

  Obviously not the best time for jokes. Not when I'm supposed to be in negotiation mode. But, goddamn, I can't help it. Even with Darcy moving at his own irritating pace.

  "You're hard to keep up with."

  Darcy’s game for some kind of humor, at least.

  He's still taking his sweet time to catch up, though. Dragging it out, like he thinks he can affect me the way he seems to light a fire under Charlie, and Lydia, and Jane, and hell, even Catherine.

  This is a nerve-racking day for all of them, but they all sure seem comfortable with sneaking peeks at Darcy's private-gym-honed billionaire ass. And that’s saying a lot about this guy. It’s no small feat for any guy to get that kind of attention from these ladies.

  But I prefer to focus on the business at hand. Now that it's just the two of us, I won't make things easy at all. I can't. I start walking faster.

  People go nuts for shit like good looks, money and business success, but none of it impresses me much. Usually. Besides, I've got all of that myself. It's not that hard.

  But, damn. Darcy is self-made. Most people aren’t willing to put in so much effort into something, so I can certainly appreciate the hard work he’s put in to get where here is now. He’s successful man, on top of his game and he sure as fuck looks the part.

  I’ve seen a lot of good looking men, they come in varying degrees of hotness. But Darcy is the type of hot where you could literally start running a dangerous temperature and pass out just from glancing at him, pussy burning up and setting fire to your panties. It's kind of ridiculous. And awesome.

  Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that he's also somehow a billionaire. Okay, that’s a lot of money, and I’m impressed, maybe a little jealous.

  I know I'm hot myself, but…goddamn, he overpowers people's wits with his classically-chiselled face and suits tailored perfectly to his insane body and…how does he smell so good?

  Because he can afford it. Don't let it distract you, Lizzie. Come on.

  I can look up some photos of him later, though. My fans get to fantasize, why shouldn't I treat myself to some fun as well?

  Suddenly Darcy is walking almost abreast with me, but not quite. Why does that feel so right? I turn around, and Darcy is looking almost straight up as he walks. Out of nowhere, I imagine him skilfully putting that powerful jaw to good use. Just a weird, random thought, I suppose. What the hell is he looking at, anyway?

  "I love the classical Renaissance-style coffered ceilings."

  "I didn’t know you went to ceiling school."

  Darcy laughs. It's hearty, deep and genuine. I also feel a hearty, deep and genuine stirring around my pussy and my nipples, but I ignore all that. For now.

  At this point, I'm sure Darcy knows that this tour is really about the list of stipulations. It’s all I'm thinking about, anyway. Also, I'm kind of wandering in front and not even pretending to show him anything at the moment.

  We're passing Charlie's space, and I use my left foot to nudge open the door with a slight kick. It's how I always open that door, I have no idea why. I can feel Darcy watching closely. He seems to like it, and I don't think he's pretending.

  To the untrained eye, the denim shorts I'm wearing are not the sexiest in the world, but they are revealing to those who can appreciate it. I turn around and make full, deliberate eye contact.

  "You know of a better way to open a door?"

  Without breaking my stare, I lift my leg up to finish opening the door. Darcy is either charmed speechless or he's pretending to be. I clomp into the room, turn around, and wait for Darcy to follow me. It takes him a few seconds.

  "You forget how to walk or something? I opened the door just for you."

  I wait for Darcy to finally say something. It cannot be that the billionaire can't keep up with me. He has to have some kind of witty response ready to go.

  "My mind was elsewhere. Forgive me." All business, I guess. Fine.

  "I'll think about it. Anyway, this is Charlie's room."

  "Is Charlie one of the girls? The Bennet Babes?"

  "Yes. You just met her. She's a fucking superstar. A pinnacle of Bennet Babes."

  "Of course."

  "That's right.’Of course.' You get it. We are this business. Bennet Babes. That's us."

  "That's you." Darcy's eyes are right on me, and as he says these two words I can feel the power of it: electric, radiant, forceful, undeniable.

  Billionaires, huh. This is a new world for me.

  "It is me. And Charlie. And Mary, Lydia, Jane, Cath…"

  Darcy is walking towards me. He's just looking around the room, there's nothing strange about it. But I feel that sensation again, and I have trouble speaking.

  Suddenly, Darcy seems to remember how
to say more than a couple words.

  "Oh, I'm familiar with Catherine." Darcy seems genuine again. I'm probably just reacting to his looks. Probably.

  "I'm sure you are. Anyway, we're the reason for the metric shit-ton of income this site rakes in each month. It ain't happening any other way. That's, uh, business, right?"

  I find it hard to focus as Darcy paces the room. He's acting super casual, looking at the old vinyl record covers glued to Charlie's wall. I can feel slight bits of electric current as he seems to be getting closer to me without trying.

  The feeling is general at first, but becomes quite cunt-specific the closer he gets. He's not even facing me, but I feel a magnetic pull from between my legs to the front of those wool trousers.

  Under the zipper…fuck, what could that cock be like? I can't even imagine. Oh. Wait. Yes, I can. I picture myself just gently opening that zipper…

  I bet you’re picturing too, right? Are you ready for this shit? Guarantee that cock is 12 inches. And don’t worry, babe, it’s coming. Just wait.

  But first, back to the tour.

  I decide to ask Darcy a question.

  "So, are you a record collector or something? You don't seem like the type."

  Darcy spins around gracefully. His eyes find mine, and he smiles just a tiny bit. Now he's ready to rumble.

  "What type do I seem like?"

  "The billionaire-type. Your bank account's full of money, and you're full of hot air and full of yourself. You're used to everyone just giving you what you want."

  "Jaded much, are we? You're not excited? Impressed?"

  I shrug.

  "Eh, maybe a little. But you should be excited. This is where the magic happens."

  "I'm not excited. Yet. But can we see some more rooms, already?"

  "Hold your horses. This grand tour is slow, and we've got conditions to discuss."

  After leading Darcy quietly to Lydia's space, I feel like it's too similar to Charlie's, with a retro postpunk thing happening. I never cared about any of this before.

  I want to think that Darcy has played a subtle negotiation mind-game, but after he's done scoping out Lydia's décor, he scopes me out with a bit more interest. I try to explain Lydia.