Seduction (17 page)

TERRA WAS
viewing life through rose-colored glasses, and everything and everyone seemed more vibrant and alive than the day before. After making love with Mason the entire night, she felt a renewed sense of purpose, and the second she got home from his apartment the next day, she called her agent.

“Hi, FK, it's Terra,” she said, once the assistant put her through.

“Well, hello, I haven't heard from you since you blew the Dove audition,” Feodora said, without mincing her words. It was Feodora's policy that her clients call in after an audition to let her know how the reading went. If the audition was a success, the wannabe actors would call her bubbling over with confidence that they had nailed the part, but if they bombed, she wouldn't hear from them for weeks.

“I know I should have called you, but I've been so preoccupied lately,” she said, thinking of Mason. “Anyway, I was calling to have you set me up with a screen test. I'm tired of going on go-sees, and I'm ready to audition for a juicy movie role,” she informed her agent, using the clout that her last name bought her.

“This must be your lucky day. I just got off the phone with Searchlight, and they're casting for an upcoming urban romance film. If you're interested, I'll messenger over a copy of the script. The reading is tomorrow, so you'll have plenty of time to memorize your lines.” Feodora knew that Terra wasn't the most talented actress in her stable, but she was the richest, so she tossed her a bone every now and then—not that she expected Terra to catch it—to keep her happy. Besides, it enhanced her agency's profile to have an heiress on the roster.

“Thanks, FK, and I promise I'm going to nail it this time,” she reassured her agent.

“Let's hope so. By the way, what's happening with the studio Sage Hirschfield is building? I've called around and the only thing I found out is that he bought an old soundstage in Long Island City and is having it renovated.”

Terra didn't have any information. Sage was being so close-mouthed about his plans that she had no idea when the studio would be up and running. After boasting about Sage being an old family friend, she was embarrassed to tell Feodora that she was totally clueless. “I talked to him the other day and he said the renovations are taking longer than he expected,” she said, lying to save face.

“Well, keep me updated on the studio's progress since you have the inside track. And you can expect the script within the hour,” Feodora said, and hung up.

Sure enough, sixty minutes later, a messenger delivered the script with a note from Feodora telling Terra which part to study. Terra dove right into the story and read the screenplay from beginning to end, to get a feel for the movie—which was a cross between
The Best Man
and
G
—before she began rehearsing her lines. The part she was reading for wasn't the main character, but she didn't mind because her character was a feisty, around the way girl from the Bronx, which was in sharp contrast to herself. Terra had worked with a dialect coach before so she knew how to change her proper speaking voice into that distinctive, boogie-down Bronx tone. She read and reread her lines until three o'clock in the morning. When she was confident that she knew every single word, she turned off the lights and went to bed.

The next morning, Terra dressed the part of Roxanne, a smart-talking tomboy, and put on a pair of tight jeans, a midriff shirt, a pair of Timberlands, and stuffed her hair underneath a Yankees baseball cap. Even though the script didn't call for it, she decided to chew a wad of bubble gum to help bring the character to life. Terra called Leroy and told him to pick her up at eleven-thirty. The audition was at one and she didn't want to be late. On the ride downtown, she rehearsed her lines again, because she didn't want a reoccurrence of the Dove audition, when she flubbed her lines three times. Today, she had the dialogue down cold and had no intention of blowing the screen test.

Unlike the hordes of women waiting their turn in front of the camera at the Dove soap commercial, there was no one there other than the receptionist when she stepped off the elevator. She walked over to the desk and introduced herself.

“Go right on in, Ms. Benson. The casting director is ready for you,” the receptionist said, pointing to the door across from her desk.

Terra loved this civilized method, much better than the chaotic cattle call. She reached into her tote, took out two pieces of Dubble Bubble, unwrapped the pink thick pieces, and stuck the gum in her mouth. Now she was ready, and was calm and collected when she entered the room. “Hi. I'm Terra Benson,” she said, shaking the director's hand.

He took in her appearance and nodded with approval. “I see you got the look of Roxanne down cold. Now let's see how you translate that to film. I'm going to read the part of Jessica, her best friend.” He flipped through the script. “Let's start at the top of page one-o-six, the scene where Roxanne is trying to talk Jessica out of marrying Enrique.”

Terra knew exactly what scene he was taking about, and had the lines completely memorized. “Jessica, yew know as well as I do dat Enrique ain't no good for yew,” she said in a heavy Bronx accent.

“But I love him, Rox,” the casting director said.

“What yew love about him? He's a playa wit women in every borough.”

“He told me that his playing days are over.”

“And yew believe dat?” Terra was nailing the lines, and started smacking on the gum to really bring Roxanne to life.

“Why shouldn't I believe him?”

“'Cuz.” She blew a huge bubble and popped it. “He ain't nothin' but a user who just wants yew fo yo money,” she said, popping another bubble.

“Cut!” said the director. “Where'd the gum come from? It's distracting. Take it out.”

Terra was caught completely off guard. She thought the gum was a good prop; it was helping her get into character. She didn't want to argue with him, so she removed the wad of gum and continued with her lines. “Enrique hasn't had a job in two years, and…”

“Cut!” the director yelled. “What happened to your Bronx accent? The line is supposed to be, ‘Enrique ain't had no job in two years.'”

Terra didn't realize that she'd dropped the accent, and tried to pick it back up, but the director's yelling was beginning to make her nervous. “Okay, got it.”

“Take three,” he said before she began again.

“Enrique ain't had no job in two years,” she said with an accent.

“Cut! What type of accent is that?”

“It's a Bronx accent,” she said sheepishly.

“Bronx by way of Boston. It's more Boston than Bronx, which isn't good, since the movie takes place uptown. Okay, it was great meeting you. I'll have my assistant call your agent,” he said, abruptly ending the screen test.

“Wait a minute. Give me one more chance. I know the lines,” she pleaded.

“It's not the lines I'm worried about, it's the accent, and I'm afraid you just don't have it down cold,” he said bluntly.

She took his criticism like a pro, thanked him for the opportunity, and left. Terra couldn't believe she had blown another audition. She needed to land a part and soon before FK dropped her from the roster. At this point, her only saving grace was Sage. If only he would agree to give her a chance. Then she could tell her agent that she had landed a starring role in a major production. Terra was at a crossroads and had to come up with a solution and quick.

“Leroy, drop me off at the Hirschfield building,” she told her driver the second she got in the car.

On the way over to Sage's office, Terra thought about her foiled attempt at seducing him. Maybe if she had slept with him a few months ago when he was after her, then she wouldn't be in the position of having to beg him to star in one of his films. Now that she was in love with Mason, sleeping with Sage wasn't an option any longer. Her best bet at this point was to try to appeal to his sensitive side and hope that he would feel sorry for her and give her a much needed break.

SAGE HAD
been in secretarial hell for the past two weeks. Pearl had been hospitalized with a serious case of influenza and now she was at home recuperating. Being the ever-efficient assistant that she was, Pearl called daily to check in, and Sage reassured her that everything at the office was under control and running smoothly. He lied through his teeth during every call, but he didn't want her to worry; he just wanted her to hurry up and recover so that she could come back and rescue him from the stream of incompetent temps. One temp was worse than the others and he was at his wit's end; they couldn't keep his schedule straight let alone construct a proper letter. The only thing they were useful for was running errands, and even then he had to give explicit instructions and write a note for a coffee run, so the order wouldn't be screwed up.

“Mr. Hirschfield, a Mr. Snyderman is here to see you,” the temp said, poking her head through his office door.

Sage was on the phone with his attorney, and held up his index finger, indicating that she should wait a minute. “Okay, Bob. Yes, that sounds great. I'll keep an eye out for that contract. Okay, talk to you soon,” he said, hanging up.

“Come in for a second.” He waved her over. Once she was standing in front of his desk, Sage handed her a pink slip of paper. “I need for you to pick up my dry cleaning. The address of the cleaners is on the top of the ticket, and on your way back, bring two double espressos with a little skim milk in both.” He scribbled down the order on his memo pad, tore off the small sheet of paper, and handed it to her. “Thanks, Lucy. You can send in Mr. Snyderman now.”

Sage hadn't seen Roy since their naughty sexcapade with Lena. He'd kept his self-imposed vow and remained extremely professional during their many telephone calls regarding the studio. The final plans had been approved and the renovation was back on schedule. Today Sage was meeting with Roy to choose paint colors, light fixtures, flooring, and furniture for the executive offices within the studio. Though Roy was an architect, his company had an in-house interior design department and he oversaw the projects of his A-list clients, and Hirschfield Multimedia was at the top of that list.

“How's it going, Roy?” Sage asked, shaking the architect's hand.

“It's going great. I've been busier than a worker bee. Just got back from the West Coast yesterday,” he said, walking into the office and closing the door behind him.

“Busy's better than being idle.” Sage got up from his desk and went over to the mini conference table.

“This is true. Keeps me out of trouble,” Roy said, cutting his eyes at Sage and slightly raising his left brow.

Sage took one look at the sly expression on Roy's face and knew that he was thinking about the unexpected blow job at Lena's apartment. Men gave the best head and Sage couldn't help but smile at the memory of that delicious surprise. “Some of us love trouble,” Sage shot back.

Roy set the bag of color swatches, catalogues, and flooring samples on the oval table and stood directly in front of Sage. “Did you know my middle name is trouble?” he asked, taking Sage's cue and running his hand up and down the lapel on Sage's gabardine suit jacket.

Sage knew that he was treading in dangerous waters flirting with Roy, but their cat and mouse game was thrilling and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He should have stopped Roy from going further, but his dick had already responded to Roy's seductive words and was growing harder by the second.
I could use a quick blow job. Besides, the silly temp is out on an errand, and no one is in the outer office,
he thought, trying to justify breaking his self-imposed vow.

Sage took a step closer. “Is that trouble with a capital ‘T'?”

“A capital ‘T' and double ‘b,'” he said, sliding his hand from Sage's lapel down to his belt buckle.

“What's the extra ‘b' for?” Sage asked suggestively.

Roy unbuckled Sage's belt, unzipped his pants, and flipped his swollen cock out through the zipper. “For Big.” He rubbed his hand along the length of Sage's shaft. “And I must say, you have one of the biggest cocks I've ever seen. The head is so full and round that I'm just dying to suck it again.” He caressed the circumference. “You don't mind, do you?” he asked rhetorically, dropping to his knees without waiting for an answer.

Sage unbuttoned his pants and took them off, along with his boxer briefs, backed up slightly, sat on the edge of the conference table, and cocked his legs wide open to give easier access. “Be my guest.”

Roy flicked out his tongue and licked Sage's balls before putting the entire scrotum in his mouth; he sucked the meaty sack until Sage squirmed with pleasure. He then took his right hand and guided Sage's long rod inside of his mouth. Roy began sucking both his dick and balls at the same time, while lightly fingering his ass.

“Oh…shit…you…got…mad skills,” Sage gasped. He had never had his balls and dick sucked simultaneously and the sensation was orgasmic. He didn't want to come just yet, because he was enjoying the hell out of Roy's oral dexterity, so he closed his eyes to concentrate on staying hard.

Roy grabbed the cheeks of Sage's naked ass and pulled him off of the table and closer to him, so that Sage's dick was nearly down his throat. He had given so many blow jobs in his life that his gag reflexes were permanently numb, so he didn't choke like most women did when a dick hit the back of their tonsils. He deep-throated Sage until he tasted the salty semen leaking out of his tiny slit, then sucked even harder to extract more of the tasty cum. They were so wrapped up giving and receiving pleasure that they didn't hear the door quietly open.

“OHMYGOD!!”

Sage's eyes popped open, but Roy kept sucking. He was in a zone and oblivious to the sudden interruption. “Uhh…uhh…” Sage stuttered, and tried to extract his dick from Roy's mouth, but the suction was too tight. “TERRA, what are you doing here!?”

Her eyes were glued to the back of Roy's head bobbing up and down on Sage's dick. “Your secretary wasn't at her desk, so I just came in,” she said in a low monotone voice, as if in shock. “Guess, I came at the wrong time,” she said, still staring at Roy slobbering all over Sage's cock.

“Terra, it's not—” Before he could finish his sentence she had rushed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind her. “FUCK!” Sage screamed at the top of his lungs.

Hearing that four-letter word, Roy stopped sucking, wiped his mouth with his monogrammed shirt sleeve, got up off his knees, and said, “You want to be the fucker or the fuckee?”

Sage snatched his pants and underwear off the floor and quickly put them on. “Roy, this meeting is over. You have to leave right now,” he said, buckling his belt and hastily tucking his shirttail into the waistband of his pants.

“What's the matter? Didn't you like the dual action B.J.?” he asked, confused as to why Sage had suddenly switched gears.

“Didn't you hear my friend walk in on us?”

“Yeah, I did. But your juices were just beginning to flow and I didn't want to stop. You were tasting so good. Besides, what was the use in stopping at that point? She had already walked in on us. Who was that anyway?”

“My friend Terra,” Sage said nervously.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Roy asked nonchalantly.

“No, not really.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Sage began pacing in front of his desk. He didn't know how he could explain getting his dick sucked by another man without sounding gay or bisexual. “The problem is she knows my family extremely well, and I can't risk her telling my father what she just walked in on.”

“You really think she'd go running to your old man? Anyway, so what if she did? You are the CEO of this conglomerate, not your father.”

“It's more complicated than that. Even though my father is retired, he's still the majority stockholder and can replace me at his discretion. My dad is from the old school and extremely traditional. He's been on my back lately about getting married, so if he found out I was a liberal lover, he'd be morally disappointed and would probably disinherit me. I don't own Hirschfield Publishing or Hirschfield Multimedia outright like you own your company, so you see I have more at stake than you do.”

“I feel for you.” Roy shook his head. “I'm glad my fate isn't in the hands of anyone but the big guy upstairs,” he said, straightening his clothes before gathering his belongings.

Sage walked Roy to the door. “I don't think we should have another face-to-face meeting. It's just too risky. Next time, send over one of your associates. Once this project is complete, maybe we can hang out at Lena's sometime.”

“No problem,” Roy said, and opened the door to leave.

Sage looked into the outer office and couldn't believe his eyes. There, standing at the secretary's desk, was his father, talking to Terra. From where he stood, he couldn't hear what they were saying, but only hoped it wasn't his worst nightmare come true. He quickly shot Roy a look that read “get out of here.”

Roy briskly brushed past Terra and the elder Hirschfield without saying a word and made a beeline straight to the bank of elevators.

Terra looped her arm through Mr. Hirschfield's and walked toward Sage. “I was just telling your father…”

Sage's vision began to get blurry and his ears started ringing. Hearing the beginning of her sentence, it sounded like she had already blurted out his dirty secret, and Sage thought that he was about to faint, but her next words brought him back to life.

“…that we had such a great time at Chanterelle, and what a beautiful pearl necklace you gave me for graduation,” she said, smiling like nothing was out of order.

“That's my boy.” He slapped his son on the back with fatherly pride. “Exquisite food and exquisite jewelry. I taught him well. And now he has an exquisite woman,” he said, looking from Terra to Sage. “So, you two, when are you going to make it official?” he asked, totally out of left field.

Sage was afraid to make eye contact with Terra, so he turned around toward the door. “Come on. Let's go into my office,” he said, avoiding the question and ushering them inside. “The temp should be back any minute with Starbucks,” he said, trying to make small talk.

Henry Hirschfield sat on the tufted leather sofa and patted the cushion next to him. “Sit here, Terra, and tell me, when are you going to marry my handsome son?”

After witnessing Sage getting his dick sucked by another man, Terra was repulsed. In her mind, men on the down low were sleazy, in public they wanted to front with beautiful women, but in private they wanted to butt-fuck other men. Her initial thought was to out Sage, but she knew that information would destroy his father, so she used her acting skills instead. She smiled and said, “Mr. Hirschfield, we're both too young to be getting married. There's plenty of time for white lace and wedding cake.”

“Fiddlesticks! When I was your age, I was married with a family.” He shook his head. “I just don't understand you young folks today.”

“Dad, don't put Terra on the spot,” Sage said, coming to her rescue. “Anyway, I'm sure she didn't come here to talk about marriage and babies.”

Terra got up to leave. “As a matter of fact, I'm late for an appointment,” she said, glancing down at her silver Rolex. “Give me a call later, Sage, so we can talk.”

That was one conversation that he was dreading. “Okay,” he said, and walked her to the door.

“So what brings you by?” he asked his father once Terra was gone.

“I read the latest quarterly statements and since you've been in charge, our earnings have increased across the board. And it's all due to you breathing fresh new ideas into this old company. Like your idea to expand into the movie industry. I think that was genius. Since there are very few soundstages located in New York, we'll have a major foothold on the East Coast. Son, I just can't tell you how proud I am of you.”

Sage glanced over at the conference table where only a few minutes ago he was getting his dick sucked by another man. If his father had walked in instead of Terra, this conversation would have a totally different slant. He silently thanked his lucky stars and returned his focus back to his father who was still singing his praises.