Watch Me

by Ada Frost

  “I believe they are now mine.” I opened the door and listened as she jumped from the counter and followed, spluttering her reply.

  “You can’t. Those are my favourite pair.” She gritted through clenched teeth.

  “They are mine also. So it would seem we’re at impasse,” I retorted, hoping to hell Steve didn’t return during her tantrum. That would be really bloody annoying.

  “You can’t —”

  “There are many things I can’t do. Keeping your knickers is something I definitely can.”

  “It’s...” She stamped her foot, honest to God stamped her foot. “This is unprofessional.”

  I sat down behind my desk and straightened my tie. I yanked at the lapels of my jacket and scooted my chair under the desk. “I think you will find taking them off in the first place was unprofessional. Riding your boss’s fingers was unprofessional. But you still did those things.”

  “You told me to,” she seethed, her fist balled at her sides.

  “Hmm. That’s correct. Now I’m telling you to forget those knickers and get back to work.”

  “Mr Stone.”

  I liked the exasperated tone and hint of warning. Turning my head, I cocked an eyebrow at her, baiting the feisty woman.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but Steve walked in.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped. Miss Warner balked at his tone and headed for her office. Steve watched her arse the entire way.

  “I’m accountable to you, how exactly? Clients usually wait out in the lobby until I’m ready to see them.” My sarcasm always irritated him. I woke my computer screen and sent an IM to Miss Warner regarding the auditions, her relinquishing her underwear, and what I intended to do with them later. I was heading for a harassment lawsuit, but the woman had stolen my common sense.

  “She’s new,” he mused licking his lips like the old letch he was.

  Not sparing him a glance or reply, I simply continued with my work.

  “Fucked her yet?”

  “No.”

  “You never fail to disappoint me, boy. You definitely didn’t inherit my genes.”

  “Another thing I can be thankful for in life,” I replied dryly.

  “You do have a dick, right?” he huffed, sitting in the chair opposite my desk and angling it toward Miss Warner’s office.

  “The last time I checked I was anatomically correct.”

  My father, Steve Stone. Famous for his off the wall porn parodies and even more outrageous antics behind the camera. My dad believed that the world was his sexual playing field. The only time he visited the office was to scout out unsuspecting bitches that liked his kind of attention or to fuck Scarlet knowing people would find them at it. He had zero scruples when it came to public sex, even when his own son was the one catching him with his dick, balls deep in someone. And yes, I had on numerous occasions caught him banging women that were not his wife.

  The man believed the world owed him. He honestly thought he was a king in his own right for creating the films he had. Steve was a fucked up mess. He once had the world at his feet and threw it all away for illegal highs. He was still a legend, but his life could have been so much more, instead of being shrouded in scandal. He was more famous for his breakdowns and torrid behaviour than his actual skills.

  This company, for example, would have floundered had I not taken the reins at eighteen. I'd been behind the scenes for over a year before it was legally mine. I’d spent years in the offices listening to business dealings, script plans, casting sessions. I was a kid and pretty much ignored, but I listened and absorbed the information. I was born into this business. I’d never been in front of the camera, but I had spent countless hours behind it. My mother said I was conceived on set, that I was born to do this shit.

  Her and dad were the king and queen of porn. There was nothing they wouldn’t do in front of a camera or in their personal lives. They had wanted to name me something ridiculous to cement me to the business, but my stubborn nanny insisted she would leave if they did. Mum, was petrified of being lumbered with a kid and told her to choose my name. Lawson was Marie’s grandfather’s name. She said there was no finer gentleman, and he would have been proud to have me named after him. I wasn't so sure.

  Had it not been for Marie, I probably would have been dead, an addict, or in some clinic dying from an incurable STD.

  I didn’t doubt that my dad enjoyed being with Stella, my mum. He just loved his dick more and me much, much less. I was the mistake that never should have been. I wish I’d come home from school to a mum and dad that wanted to know why I had bruises. Or why I had no friends other than the seedy little bastards that watched my mother in her videos. Instead, I had parents whose idea of a stable diet was a cocktail of phet and vodka. The more they used, the harder stuff they needed, until Mum didn’t wake up. She overdosed and that was the end. After that no companies wanted to work with Dad until he cleaned himself up.

  Actors dropped from his label because of the risks he took with their sexual health. He completely ignored contracts and limits, making female actors perform when they weren’t comfortable. When I hit eighteen and took over the label, I rebranded and purged the place of all the shit. Including my old man. I was renowned for being cold and unfeeling but in reality that was far from the truth. I refuse to take any risks with my company or the people that work for me. It was my fascination with watching a business grow and the desire to prove I was something more than simply the spawn of fucked up Steve Stone that propelled me to make a success of Stone Industries.

  Dad lived on his royalties. I couldn't take that away from him, and yeah, I wasn't a total bastard. I gave money to him each month. However, the downside of funding Steve was that his whores thought I was the prize. That through him they could get to me. Women are a hard breed to trust. They either thought I was their big break into the industry or my wallet was their break.

  Firstly, I hadn't, nor will I ever, fuck a woman that had my father’s dick inside her, and secondly, I can smell desperation a mile away. If they want my money, they work for it. Sucking my dick will not get you a penny. I never fucked the actresses or any of my staff. I’d never even been tempted – until now. I crossed a line with Miss Warner. Business is business; I’m in the sex industry. I didn't prostitute myself.

  A flash of black caught my attention, and I lifted my gaze, only for it to collide with a round arse pointing at me. The curvy shaped and lovely legs were any man’s fantasy.

  Why the fuck did I insist on glass walls?

  Miss Warner was bending at the waist with her arse in the air while she looked through the filing cabinet for something. Her skirt was tight around her hips and backside, her legs were crossed, and she kept wiggling as if she could hear some kind of music. I strained to see if I could hear anything, but the office was silent. I jerked when she stood suddenly, made a strange hop curtsy type move, and turned, coming straight for me.

  “I bet she takes it up the arse,” Dad mused. I slid my gaze to him and scowled. His attention could rarely focus when a beautiful woman was around.

  “Why are you here?” I seethed, hating that he was even in the same hemisphere as Abigail.

  “Scarlet wanted me to invite you to dinner. Not that she can cook. It wasn’t her culinary skills I married her for if you get my drift.” The bastard had the audacity to wink like we were old pals sharing a dirty joke. When I simply stared at him without so much as a hint of a smile, he sneered at me. “I need money.”

  “Goodbye,” I huffed. The man was ridiculous. I paid for his house, his car, and Scarlet’s car. He had a monthly allowance; the fuck he was getting any more.

  “I’ve been given a great investment opportunity.”

  “Really? What is it this time, H, Charlie, Glass? I’m not funding that shit.”

  “It’s not that. Someone said I can buy into their company and restart my career.”

  The bitter laughter that released from my throat had him scowling a
t me. “What career? You’re a has-been. Nobody wants to see your wrinkly arse on screen.” At seventy-two it was insanity if he thought he had any play on screen. “You’ll put a hip out of place. At your age you need to take better care of yourself.”.

  “You owe me. Everything you are today is because of me.”

  “I agree. I strived to be the exact opposite of you. Successful, respected, and great at this business, and it worked.”

  His face contorted and coloured a shade of puce. It was fascinating to watch. But I did panic a little that he’d pass out on my floor, and I’d need the clean-up crew. That would be tiring.

  “This is a great business opportunity. Are you afraid of a little competition?”

  “No.” I was getting really bored of this conversation now. I pressed the intercom. “Ryan, can you please come up and escort Steve Stone out of the building. He is no longer welcome.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the terse response. I liked the guy. He was part of our new security outfit. He was a massive guy, ex-marine, and surly as hell.

  Dad stood quickly and glared at me. His dyed black hair and perm-a-tan were completely ludicrous. “You could always audition to be an umpa-lumpa. You’re orange enough.” I snorted.

  “My wife is here, we’re going to have lunch together. You cannot have me tossed from the building. It’s my company.”

  “Was, your company. Not anymore. Everything belongs to me now. This is my empire, you threw it all away. Have lunch with Scarlet, but you leave the premises. I tell you what I will even grant permission for her to leave early.”

  Dad’s twisted features was a precursor that I was about to be barraged with insults.

  “Mr. Stone,” Ryan said from my doorway. The guy was fast. I liked that.

  “Steve needs to leave. Make sure it happens quickly.”

  “Sir,” Ryan replied taking hold of Dad’s arm and tugging him toward Miss Warner’s office. “Ma’am.” He nodded to her as he passed, and I didn’t mistake the appreciative smile she gave him. She came to my office and handed me some contracts.

  “He’s married,” I scolded.

  “He’s American with buns I could bounce coins off. I ain’t complaining.”

  I signed the contracts and handed them back to her.

  “How’s your headache?”

  “He was just escorted out.” I joked. She was silent for a moment, and I waited, tensing because it was a twat move to make a joke of the situation. “Better now he’s gone.”

  “We never had any lunch. Would you like a coffee and a sandwich? I’m going to grab one.”

  “They are likely to have all gone now.” I replied a little flummoxed that she wasn’t bombarding me with questions.

  Her face paled.

  “You okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh yeah. I’m just hungry.”

  “You may go check. I’ll have a coffee, if you don’t mind.” I handed her my cup. I never used the ones from the canteen.

  When she walked away, I found myself again captivated by the sway of her hips and the curves of her luscious arse.

  I raced into the lunchroom like a mad woman. Half of the women here didn’t eat, let alone binge on carbs. I prayed the fridge wasn’t empty. Since starting here, I depended on the meals so I didn’t have to spend cash on food at home. I could save it or put it toward some of the debt. Living without electricity and gas just so I could pay the mortgage and credit cards was crippling me. I wasn't sure I could survive much longer, but each time I doubted it I would remember Mum. Her struggle to keep us afloat all by herself. The determination she had to see me go to university. Giving up the house would mean I had failed her, and I couldn’t do that.

  You’ve got to make her proud, Abby.

  When I opened the fridge door, I almost wept with joy. There were numerous sandwiches left, pasta bowls, and individually wrapped cheesecakes, fudge cake, and muffins. I grabbed a beef and horseradish sandwich. I was tempted to take more and stuff them into my bag for home now that I knew they were thrown away. A rustling of plastic startled me.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Let me know when you’ve finished. I was just going to sort out the fridge, take what you need.” One of the canteen staff smiled. She placed the bag on the table and headed back to the kitchen.

  “I’ll do it,” I called, grabbing the bag from the table. I started placing the cartons carefully into the sack. She smiled at me and waved before closing the kitchen door. After emptying the fridge, I knotted the bag. I tucked the sandwiches under my arm and grabbed our drinks. When I reached his office, I placed his drink on his desk, sighing with relief when I noted he was currently absent. Without wasting time, I dashed to my desk and put the sack underneath. Taking the food was an act of desperation, but I was beyond that now. I needed to grab any opportunity by both hands.

  Today had been an epically strange day. I’d attended a casting session for porn actresses and actors. My boss finger fucked me, again. Seduced in a bathroom, again. And stolen food. I pressed my fist to my mouth to stop the laughter from bursting free. It was either that or tears.

  Lacey was still avoiding me, and without a phone I couldn’t contact her. I’d tried on the office phone, but she’d made an excuse of why she couldn’t talk. And when she was here, she claimed she was running late to the studio. It was a poor lie seeing as I had a bird’s eye view of the studio and she wasn’t needed for at least an hour. I missed her, and I needed her. Plus, I needed to thank her for getting me this job and to find out what I had done to cause her to stay away. Life didn’t feel so lonely when I’d had at least one friend.

  Tonight, more than anything, I was looking forward to heading home, eating my dinner – courtesy of my kitchen steals – crawling into bed, and forgetting today ever happened. This day could possibly be an all-time low for me. I’d scraped the depraved bottom of the barrel. Lawson Stone drove me insane. He was rude, insulting, infuriatingly demanding but there was something irresistibly dark about him. A bit like chocolate when you’re on a diet. The temptation is too much to resist. Lawson is my chocolate.

  “I need to go on a diet,” I muttered.

  The interaction between him and his father was incredibly strange. They appeared to hate one another, and the fact Lawson had the man tossed out of here by security was shocking. Plus, it was slightly disturbing his own step-mother was barely legal and clearly had the hots for Lawson. Ryan was always a pleasant sight, but even still, I found it inconceivable to have your own parent tossed out. At first when the man arrived, I assumed he was a business associate but when I heard their argument, I realised how wrong I was. Lawson wasn’t just a cold fish with his staff, he was that way with family. The resemblance was easy to see once I knew that they were related. They both had that remarkable straight jaw and strange mix of light coloured eyes framed by inky dark lashes and eyebrows.

  There was no mistaking the sickening leer Steve Stone gave me or the expectant way he watched the frosted glass as if it would magically disappear and give him a perfect view into the studio. Most days Lawson left the glass clear so that we were gifted the site of naked arses all day long. I could only assume that it was deliberate we were closed off from the studio today because of his dad. Actually the break was welcome. I’m sure one day I would be able to look upon the room of sex without the tingling of arousal, or when I was caught staring too long I didn’t blush like a fool. I would, instead, be able to watch with cold disinterest, almost clinically like Lawson could. The majority of the time he would stand at the glass wall with his tablet, taking notes with such a bored expression on his face it was hard to imagine him ever being turned on. However, I’d seen the fire that could light his eyes and the passion with which he burned when he was aroused. I’d touched that fire and was almost scorched. In past relationships or hook-ups, I’d never been one to seek out dominant men. The majority were drips who barely stoked the furnace let alone set me alight.

  I ordinarily would have been mortified and beyond self-conscious at b
eing caught buck assed naked in the shower by a man. That wasn't how my body reacted though. it had responded to his lustful gaze with pulsing need. If I had to describe my sexual tastes, I’d probably appear a little boring. I’d never been into public sex or risqué situations. Not that I was prudish; I’ve just never had the opportunity. When Sam and Lawson shared me, I’d been unable to resist, my sensibilities scarpered, leaving only my desire to succumb. Didn’t help sitting at this desk each day watching sex on repeat. It would probably become mundane if the sessions replayed daily, but they found new tweaks, partners, and positions. It was a little bizarre that Lawson would call through on the radio-mic to say that a scene wasn’t working with a certain pairing, but switched around, the effect was electric.

  I enjoyed watching him, studying the room of sex. Wondering if his clinical logical approach was sexy, boring or a libido killer. But how could they be when the man had me panting and coming, just from instructions? I’d never masturbated in front of a partner before, and he’d had me flicking the bean in seconds. Another weirdly fascinating thing about him was his expressions when he received texts. Whoever was sending them had the ability to make him smile, the real ones that seemed to light his face. I groaned, placing my head in my hands.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  I startled when Lawson’s voice came from the doorway.

  “Hmm...yeah. I think I caught your headache.” I smiled and straightened some papers on my desk.

  “I don’t believe that’s possible.” He cocked his head to one side, pulling a grin from me. There were occasions when he truly appeared flummoxed by something I said, and in those rare moments he looked so adorably lost.

  “Is that for me?” I motioned to the papers in his hand.

  “I need those copied and forwarded to the appropriate addresses.” He placed them on my desk and turned to leave.

  “Have you made your decision about the casting auditions?” I inquired, not entirely sure why I asked because it had nothing to do with me.

  “No. Sam will select who he believes will fit. I will confirm his selection, and we’ll hold further auditions. There are at least five out of the eight we’ll not even entertain. The late arrival being one of them.”