by Roxie Wilde
Closer
by Roxie Wilde
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.
© 2019, Roxie Wilde. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without prior written consent from the author with the exception for a fair use excerpt for review and editorial purposes.
This title is for adults only. It contains explicit sex acts, adult themes, and material that some folks might find offensive. Please keep out of reach of children. All characters involved in sexual activities are consenting adults age 18 or older. Cover models appear for illustration purposes only and have no connection with the fictional events of this story.
Table of Contents
Closer
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Closer
Chapter1
Charlotte
You’d think sex would be second nature when you’re the Condom Queen.
“Charlotte! Charlotte!”
A barrage of camera flashes went off inches from my face. I turned instinctively, giving them the smile. Practiced. Perfect. Pink gloss in place, full pout.
“Morning guys! I’m so ready for my pumpkin spice fix.”
Sure, Daddy had given me a bubble gum pink convertible BMW for my sixteenth birthday. The same exact color as the distinctive Libido condom boxes found on every pharmacy shelf, rapper’s mansion, and porn set across the western hemisphere. Yeah, ok, a few years later I’d celebrated the big two-one in style at the Playboy Mansion. Right on the same stretch of lawn where mom had shot her very own centerfold spread, back when they still did that sort of thing.
I couldn’t blame my parents for any of that. After all, the Libido empire had been what paid for my USC MBA. The closet full of Louboutins in my off-campus apartment. The MS Nauti by Nature sitting in a marina slip in Malibu at the moment The little fifteen thousand square foot widow’s cottage where mom had holed up after dad’s heart attack had landed the company squarely in my lap a few years back.
The photographer fired off a few more clicks as I made my way from the Starbucks entrance back to the lot. I was glad I’d opted for the wrap dress and sweater instead of throwing on my Old Navy sweats. Even this early in the morning, the paparazzi had a way of lurking near Sunset Blvd. They never hesitated to nab an unflattering photo when they could.
“Any fun planned for the day, Charlotte?”
There was obvious innuendo dripping from the man’s voice, and I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes. I hadn’t even had coffee yet.
Instead, I gave him another pout, more exaggerated this time, before sliding my Prada sunglasses down from their perch on my head and unlocking the Land Rover driver door.
“Just work today, Paul. Gotta save some fun for the weekend”
Despite social media’s propensity for attaching my face and ample bosom to as many salacious stories as possible— conveniently ignoring the charity and women’s rights work I’d done since taking over as CEO— they simply weren’t true.
Charlotte Libido: Condom Queen and Charlie Campbell, CEO were two entirely different women. Frankly, I liked keeping it that way.
As much as I enjoyed playing up the part of a voluptuous, sex-positive vamp in front of the cameras on occasion, keeping up the appearance for the sake of the brand could grow tiresome. Especially when it came to business matters. It was hard to be taken seriously when I was walking a constant tightrope between my two worlds.
“I know you aren’t trying to come in that door without one of those for me.”
I held my non-pumpkin spiced hand up to the intercom camera, indicating the other Venti cup.
“Americano, splash of cream, sugar-free cinnamon dolce syrup. Now let me in before I pee myself, woman.”
The run-in with the photographers had combined with the misery of congestion along Hollywood to make getting home take twice as long. My tiny bladder was at its breaking point without my best friend come personal assistant holding it hostage over potential lack of coffee.
I’d met Elena at freshman year orientation and we’d become fast friends. She’d introduced me to Cuban music and mojitos and taught me to roll my rrrs. I’d taught her to swim because nobody born on an island should be afraid of drowning in an inflatable pool at a sorority rush party.
When a lupus diagnosis had blindsided her junior year, Elena confessed that she thought she would have to drop out. Her scholarships paid tuition, but there was no way she could afford treatment and keep up with studying full time. It was a slap of reality in the face for me, especially since I’d had a family physician come see me at home for everything from broken bones to random fevers since I was a toddler.
Instead, I’d brought Elena to my father, who immediately gave the girl an intern position at Libido with full health benefits, allowing her to continue studying. Years later, she’d been instrumental in helping me carefully build a comprehensive health and wellness package for our employees. We still monitored her carefully, seeking out new treatment options when possible and keeping an eye out for signs of flares and relapses.
None of which was going to matter, because if she didn’t let me in the house soon, I was going to strangle her with my own two hands.
The gate hummed to life and I grumbled a reluctant thank you before rushing into the house.
A few minutes later I emerged from the glittering downstairs powder room, latte in hand.
“What? I put it down on the sink and washed my hands. What?”
Elena rolled her eyes in response. Clearly, I should have already understood what the problem was. I didn’t.
Luckily, she was already field marching me into my office, rattling off a list of things we had to tackle for the week. As fierce as she was efficient, Elena was indispensable to both me and Libido, especially during weeks like this. I was flying out to New York next month for Heidi’s Halloween party. I dreaded it, but there was no escaping it. The timeline had meant moving some things around, rearranging more than a few meetings, and generally juggling my entire life. Lena did it all like the bad bitch she was.
“You’ve got a photoshoot with Cosmo at 6. I moved dinner with your mom to next Thursday and rescheduled your dermatologist appointment for the third time this month. You’ve got 24 minutes to be at the office. First thing tomorrow is the big Olivier meeting. I set out the green pinup dress for it.”
Good call. That was a fantastic dress.
Chapter2
Xander
I straightened my cuffs as the skinny blonde next to me prattled on endlessly. She wasn’t a client, although she looked the type. Young and tight with a Louis Vuitton clutch and the sickly sweet minty smell of not-quite disguised bulimia on her breath.
“So then, Jo, like, totally hooked up with Trent. I mean, it was kind of slutty because she and Mike weren’t, like, on a break or whatever. But it was Spring Break so I don’t think that counts. Right?”
Her voice wasn’t nails-on-a-chalkboard, it was a nailgun to my balls. I hid my grimace with a sip of scotch, the potent Laguvallen nowhere near strong enough to make the girl appealing. I would die of acute alcohol poisoning before I was inebriated enough to consider taking her home of my own free will.
Still, it didn’t hurt to practice. My job relied on a specific set of skills. I wasn’t just a pretty face.
“I think— “ I leaned over a b
it on my stool, brushing Cynthia’s cheek with the back of one hand. “ — that Trent and Mike were both blind. They should have been chasing after you, not your friend.”
Cynthia tittered. If you’ve never heard a titter, it’s like a giggle with extra tit. She leaned into me, her loose top gaping forward, exposing herself. Not that there was much to expose. “You’re so sweet, Xander. I wouldn’t want them anyway. Boys are so disappointing. I need a man to be my daddy.”
She leaned into me to whisper it into my ear. I’m sure she thought it was sultry, but it was just pathetic. I didn’t doubt she did need a father figure in her life, but I wasn’t about to play that role, especially not in the bedroom. I had gotten far in life by taking my own father’s advice to heart:
“Xander, never stick your dick in crazy.”
Dad had known from experience, of course. I had half a dozen siblings spread across twice as many states. He’d never settled down for long. He seemingly got bored around the time they got pregnant. The end result was that the McMannis name was spread far and wide. My old man had set up a franchise in every major city in the country.
I was saved from the peroxide princess by the vibration of my cell as it danced across the bar.
“Sorry Cynthia, I’ve got to take this. Work. You don’t mind closing out our tab, right?”
I didn’t wait to hear her answer as I slid off my stool. Was it an asshole move? I didn’t think so.
Besides, it’s not like she needed the money. Not like I did. I slid my thumb across my phone, bringing it up to my ear as I exited the bar into the evening air.
“Xander, my boy. Sorry to interrupt your evening. You weren’t on a hot date, were you?” Otto Olivier was the CEO of my company, my mentor, and one of a handful of people who knew why I pulled down a six-figure salary my first year out of college.
“You know me, boss. Married to the job.” I said it with a laugh, but it was true. I hadn’t dated since I’d taken the internship with Olivier International in my junior year.
“That’s what I like to hear.” I could practically smell the Cuban in Otto’s mouth. He was never without one, and I’d come to associate the smell of good tobacco with money and power. The three so often went hand in hand together.
“Got a job for you.” I could hear his speech shift as he pulled the stogie out of his mouth. I could see him in my mind’s eye, pacing around his lavish office in his smoking jacket.
“This one is big. Reaaaaal big.”
I knew that tone of voice. Otto loved to think he was clever. He’d confessed to me once, drunk as a skunk, that he’d wanted to be a comedian in his youth. Fortunately, he loved money too much to ever go into standup. Good thing, because Otto was more Carrot-Top than Carlin.
I sighed but humored my boss like any good wage slave. “How big is it, boss?”
“I’m sending you the dossier right now. You tell me.”
I pulled my phone down, opened up the file. Charlotte Libido. I vaguely recognized the name. I shook my phone, but the reception in this part of town was terrible. I would have switched carriers, but I was so rarely at home. Travel came with the job. Just like me.
“Well? What do you think? Pretty big, eh?”
“Sorry boss, the photos didn’t load. Can’t see her.” I could tell though, what he was getting at. It wasn’t funny, but then Otto rarely was.
“Oh. Well, get yourself to the airport. I want you there for the preliminary meeting first thing tomorrow morning. You’re booked on the midnight plane to LAX.”
I glanced at my Amiga. Just a little under an hour. “Not a lot of time to pack.”
I heard him puffing away at his Cohiba. “Don’t try to bullshit me. I know you keep a bag packed in the car.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his gruff, fatherly tone. Otto was much more of a father figure to me than my own old man had ever been, advice about where to put my cock notwithstanding. Which gave me a great idea.
“Hey, that reminds me. I’m sending you a number, she told me she was looking for someone to keep her company. I think you’re more her type. I’m certainly not.”
“What type is that? A wealthy octogenarian with a Viagra IV?”
I grinned against my phone as I slid into the leather seat of the company BMW.
“A nice guy.”
The other end was quiet for a bit. “Xander, son. If you’re having second thoughts, I can get another closer.”
“No Otto. I’m fine with it. Don’t take anything I say seriously. I’ve got to go.” I lied.
I felt bad about lying to the man, but I couldn’t lose my job. After Dad had left, Mom had never been the same. Emotionally or physically — she’d been diagnosed with cancer at the age of forty-five. She had been drowning in medical debt by the time I was in college, and the income from this job was only beginning to scratch the surface.
I sent her a text at the first red light. I would normally never text and drive, but I hated to wake her if she was sleeping.
— headed to LA for work. Dinner when I get back?
I felt the buzz of a response as I cruised down the freeway, but waited until I was stopped to get my parking garage ticket before I checked it.
— Alinea. Your treat. Be safe.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at Mom’s expensive taste. Even underwater on everything, she still demanded the only 3 Michelin star restaurant in all of Chicago. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that Mom was another in a long list of crazy that my dad hadn’t been able to avoid.
— I’m always safe, that’s why you’re not a grandmother.
It was true for more than just my sex life. I always hedged my bets and made the safe, smart calls. I looked both ways before I crossed the street. I didn’t gamble, rarely drank and even then never to the point of intoxication. I knew what happened when you stopped letting your brain make decisions, and I was determined that that would never be me.
I breezed through security, an old pro at getting past the TSA. I hated putting my Allen Edmonds loafers through the x-ray machine, but it was a necessary evil. I had a text waiting for me on the other side of the body scanner.
— Maybe be a bit less safe.
I chuckled at that. Some things would never change, and Rose McMannis’s desire for grandbabies was one of them. I found my gate easily with fifteen minutes to spare.
— Boarding the plane. Let you know when I’m safely on the ground. Love you.
I switched my phone to airplane mode as I took my seat. I was asleep before we took off, even the sudden acceleration unable to rouse me from my slumber.
I was used to rocky nights.
Chapter3
Charlotte
“Ok guys, last quarters numbers look phenomenal. There are a lot of people having a lot of protected sex. I love it. Talk to me about the new social media campaign.”
The conference room was packed, the energy in the room palpable.
I’d been raised in this building, had always known that someday the reins would be handed over to me. But more than the pampered heiress everyone outside of this room thought me to be, I had worked hard to get here. When my father died, mom and I had been shocked to find that company profits had been slowly declining for years.
Sex sells, but safe sex isn’t always sexy.
It had taken me nearly four years, deferring all of my own salary, and every scrap of energy I had, but I’d turned it around in spectacular fashion. Elena and I had brought in fresh blood, pumping the company full of young, vibrant ideas and people our own age, willing to try new things and take the market by storm.
“We’re calling it Raise Your Libido.”
Nia was a marketing whiz I’d snatched right out of Morehouse. She’d already proven herself worth five times her generous salary, and if the new campaign was any indication, she had a long and lucrative career waiting for her in the condom empire. I watched as she outlined the rough details of her plan, signing off on the most important aspects. It was importan
t for me to be involved in every area of Libido’s day to day operation, but the whole point of assembling a killer team like this was giving them the autonomy to do what they did best.
“Fantastic. Let’s really dial up the sex on these.” I handed her back the detailed storyboards. “Love the inspiration from European commercials. See how far you can push those.”
“We might get some FCC complaints, Charlie. Especially from the south or midwest if some of those commercials air during dinner time.”
It was Benjamin’s job to point out legal issues before they popped up. Daddy had taught me many things they hadn’t in school. One of the most valuable? Forget teeth, pumpkin. You want to smile, save the retainer for your lawyer
He’d been right, of course, and Ben was as meticulous and careful as they came.
“Good. Make sure the first ones air in Wyoming, Texas, Tennessee, and Oklahoma between five and eight pm. Have a response prepared beforehand and get ready to rush Twitter and Instagram when people start talking about it.”
Nothing drummed up business like a good old fashioned controversy.
“We can leak an uncensored version to YouTube and Reddit, too.” Nia looked thrilled at the prospect.
Another half an hour flew by as we wrapped up the last of the most pressing matters for the month.
“I’ll be on email for the rest of the day,” I called out to the retreating file of bodies. Only Elena and the lawyers remained. “Don’t text me unless the building is on fire or the whole world decides to go celebrate!”
I accepted the fresh coffee that Lena slid in my direction, wordlessly sinking into one of the overstuffed leather chairs that lined the massive conference table. It had been custom made by one of my father’s childhood friends out of a single fallen tree near the Texas town where he grew up. I loved this table.
“Please tell me we’re done. I was craving Spartina for lunch, and getting to Melrose is going to take all day if we don’t leave soon.”
I crossed my legs and watched the row of suits divert their eyes from the shift of pale thighs beneath the hem of my deep green dress.
