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Friday, December 21, 2012

Penultimate Hustle: L.A. - Chapter One

1 – Touchdown

Chris and Janique touched down in L.A. and immediately visited their lawyer to sign the papers insuring their continued freedom. It was a handshake agreement that largely revolved around an exorbitant sum of money. There were tears in Janique’s eyes when the deal was done and she was assured of not being separated from Chris.
“Never again,” she said, hugging him tightly as they left the courthouse.
“Now what?”
“To paraphrase Ray Kroc, I don’t make porn, I deal in real estate.”
“Office space. Tomorrow. Tonight, I want to be with you. Free.”
That night they withdrew some play money and rented a room for two nights so they could sleep late.
The next afternoon, Janique had her own floor in an eight storey office complex in the valley, with an option on the floor above.
“Oh, Chris,” Janique said, hugging him. “It’s perfect.”
They made love on the floor as soon as the realtor left them.
The next few weeks were set aside for planning and decorating. Chris was exhausted just watching Janique work, and eventually suggested she hire an assistant.
“But Chris, you’re my assistant.”
“Be that as it may, love, you don’t let me do anything.”
“You’re sweet. Being with me is all I need.”
“Oh, alright. Whores, or someone serious?”
“While I appreciate a good whore, I think you need a receptionist.”
“Fuck Ray Kroc. Whores first,” Janique said.
The next day, she ran an ad. Two days later, there were three potential draftees up for interview: Mia, Gia, and Lateesha. Mia and Gia were blonde twins. Lateesha was a beautiful black girl with an impossibly shapely ass and coal dark skin. Janique arranged her interview for the next day.
Chris, meanwhile, worked on Tokio’s case preliminaries and ran an ad for Janique’s personal assistant.
When Lateesha came in for her interview, Janique had a contract packet ready and began detailing the benefits plan.
“Two hundred thousand for fourteen films, plus health insurance.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“Yes, upon completion.”
“Where do I sign?”
“I’m sure you want time to read it over and decide.”
“No, thank you. I’ll sign now.”
“Well, there’s still an audition process, but I’ll let you sign today if you want.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
Janique slid the packet across the desk. “You can still back out by not doing the movies.”
“Oh, I’ll do them. I need the money.”
Lateesha signed, and Janique said, “Okay, then, let’s get you started on the package.”
“The package?”
“Tonsils, braces, tibal ligation, etcetera.”
“Tubal ligation?”
“Reversible. Drug test.”
“Drug test?”
“Drugs are not a dealbreaker. We just like to know where everyone is at.”
“Chris, what do you think? Anal bleaching on a black girl?”
Chris looked over his newspaper. “Might be cool. Like a bullseye.”
“Anal bleaching?” Lateesha asked nervously.
“Sure. And a neck tattoo of our logo.”
Janique made a call to her doctors.
“Okay, you’re all set, Lateesha. Go here to start the package, and report back tomorrow for the audition.”
Neither mentioned that the contract gave any other Ultimate Hustle employee complete sexual access to the signee at any time, and always on camera.
“Chris,” Janique said the next day, “I want to go see Tokio.”
“I’ll get us on his visitor’s list.”
Lateesha came in with a sore ass, showing off her neck tattoo. When she got up to use the restroom, Janique handed Chris a tube of cocoa butter and said, “Do your duty.”
He caught her at the sink, his cock already erect and lubricated.
“Lateesha, you can still back out, but I’m here to audition you.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You should have read your contract.”
“Can I suck it first?”
She did so and said, “Bleh, tastes like hand cream.”
“Let’s start over,” Chris said, washing.
“Mmm, that’s better,” she said, and began her ministrations. Soon, Chris had her bent over the sink, delivering an anal pounding like she had never had before. He observed her in the mirror and came up with her porn star name.
He finished on her face for the cameras Janique had installed everywhere. Lateesha wore the cum out into the offices, where Janique filmed her with a handheld.
Chris whispered in her ear, and Janique said, “Your porn star name is Fuckface.”
“Fuckface. Uh-uh, I’m Queen Lateesha.”
“Read your contract. You’re Fuckface. But you passed the screen test. Great footage.”
Lateesha, now dubbed Fuckface, went to have it tattooed on her lower back while Chris and Janique met with Janice Livingston, the personal assistant candidate. Her credentials were unparalleled.
“Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I have but one request: no touching. That aside, I’d love to be part of the Ultimate Hustle family.”
“I can do that.”
“So what do you think?”
“She’s your assistant.”
“Then yes, you’re hired.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You won’t regret this.”
Janice’s office consisted of a phone, desk, and empty filing cabinet. When not answering the phone, which was mostly silent, she busied herself with writing. Her phone list consisted of one actress, two potential hires, and a Japanese restaurant Chris and Janique favored.
“So tell us, Janice,” Janique asked, “What made you want to work for Ultimate Hustle?”
“Oh, to be on a winning team. Publishing is dead.”
“But you know what we do here, right?”
“Certainly. You make Hollywood grade pornography, and run a legal escort service.”
“And what do you know about us?”
“Chris Turner, consomm√© x-rated actor, devoted husband,  strong arm robber, ex-drug dealer and bagman for a heavy Japanese consortium.”
“Ooh, do me,” Janique said.”
“Janique Turner, nymphomaniac, sexiest adult actress in the world, devoted wife and lover, driven by a desire for art and extreme wealth.”
“Wow. You really did your research.”
“I try, madame.”
“Here’s what we need today.”
Janice readied her pen.
“First, make sure Chris and I are on the visitation list for Tokio Jones. Here’s the number.”
She handed her a Post-It note.
“Second, arrange a visit for today, and schedule a screen test for Gia and Mia.”
“No problem.”
“Finally, we need to make this place functional. Get phones in each room. Here,” Janique said, “Is the number of the AV guys who did the cameras. Also, I think we need designers. Try and find us the perfect interior decorators.”
Janique busied herself with planning while Janice made calls and Chris read.
Eventually, Janice stuck her head in their office door and said, “Done. Mr. Tokio Jones, one p.m., Gia and Mia, four p.m. I’ll be interviewing designers all afternoon. Is that acceptable?”
“It’s great, Janice, thank you.”
They drove to the prison Tokio had been transferred to, both feeling tense as they approached. Their sense of unease never left during their stay.
The visitation room was loud and harsh, dirty plexiglass and whitewashed cinderblock. It pained Chris and Janique to see Tokio when he was finally wheeled in to see them. Chris tried to talk, but quickly grew frustrated at the noise level. Janique was afraid he would lose his temper.
“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Tokio growled. “Can’t you see that’s Chris motherfucking Turner?”
Instantly, conversations on both sides of the glass were reduced to low murmurs.
“Toke, man, how are you?” Chris asked.
“Chris Turner, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing here?”
“We have your money. We’re going to make arrangements for your operation.”
“You’re bullshitting me.”
“Never. We’re also going to motion for a retrial.”
Tokio’s eyes misted over at the thought.
“Serious?” he asked
“Never more serious about anything,” Janique stepped in and said.
Toke let out a low whistle. “This must be Janique. You’re even more beautiful than he described you, and the man is a stone poet.”
Embarassed, Janique said, “Do you have a lawyer in mind, or should we use ours?”
“Man, I’m still trippin’ off the operation news. But I do have a dude you can use to augment your legal team. Cat by the name of Payback.”
“Payback. Is it safe to assume he’s a motherfucker?”
“Heh. We’re all motherfuckers in here. But, no, he’s just meticulous about staying out of debt. That’s how he got the name.”
“Do you know his number?”
“Of course.” Tokio recited it while Janique wrote it down in her flowery script on rose-colored paper.
“Worry no more, Toke. The cavalry is here,” Chris said.
“How’s Hazel?”
“She’s, um, resting,” Janique cut in. “But we’re bringing Ultimate Hustle to L.A.”
“Wow. This is like Christmas and my birthday put together.”
“Do you need commissary money?” Chris asked.
“A true player will always stay fed, and a true player will always stay paid. But, sure, actual ash would be nice.”
Janique wrote this down as well.
“Say, I’m slippin’, with the excitement and all. Show me them titties, girl.”
She blushed. “But of course,” she said, revealing her perfect tits and pushing them against the glass. Tokio’s hand moved instinctively to his crotch. Then she raised her skirt, revealing her shaved mound and a pair of diamond and platinum wedding rings.
“Whoa, whoa,” Tokio said. “You can’t do that to me. Damn, girl.”
“Sorry, Mr. Tokio, sir,” she said primly.
“So, are we cool?” Chris asked.
“Cool? You two are Frosty and Santa. I’m gonna call you Kris Kringle.”
The guards came for him, and they said their goodbyes, all three leaving considerably happier than when they had arrived.