I’d only managed to get as far as my second cup of coffee, mentally debating if I wanted to wear underwear during my shopping excursion before my new life altered my plans. While the slow trickle of time soothed my aching soul, the events of last night poured over and through me like a deluge of healing energy. All of my depression and emotional anguish had fled, my intense orgasms chasing them away.

Although I was looking forward to shopping, and planning out the up-and-coming party, I immediately answered the incoming phone call. The fact that it was the Cam Site’s webmaster calling wasn’t extremely unusual; we’d built a good rapport. Calling me very early on a Saturday morning was, however, quite odd. Although I was lounging in the breakfast nook, wearing my satin robe, the one Mike always loved seeing me wear and letting the morning sun caress my exposed flesh, I adopted my business voice and answered.

“You’ve got Mary A,” I said, giving my screen name. “Kind of odd for you to call me off hours, isn’t it?”

“I know, Mary,” the site’s webmaster said. “Please forgive me, but this is important. I wanted you to know directly from me. We’ve been bought out, Mary.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Chad.” My tone, slightly sarcastic and mostly humorous, let him know that I knew his real name, but chose to address him by the screen name he used on the site. “Are you OK?”

“Better than okay; I’m now rich and retiring. It’s a good thing.”

“Congratulations. I’m happy for you, but why are you calling me? Is the site closing down or something?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. It’s just that one of the main reasons we got bought out is because of what you’ve done with the Princess Conclave. The new owners of the platform want to talk to you to ensure that you’ll keep the conclave active.”

“I don’t own the girls. You know that! They can come or go as they please. I just market and produce for them.”

“Exactly. Nonetheless, they want to talk to you. May I give the new owner your phone number?"

I thought it over. We’d had multiple offers to leave the Cam Site and go to other ones, but this was different. Dollar signs danced in my mind. “Yes. I suppose. Go ahead and give them my number; we have monetizing potentials to discuss.”

As soon as I hung up, I went straight to my laptop. It was true, and the unread emails alerting me of the sale of the webcam site were in my inbox. The company, HGT, Happy Good Times, had purchased the website for a very high price, way over the valuation. HGT began as a porn tube site, like several others in the online adult industry, and has grown into a conglomerate. Officially known as RubHub, the young, entrepreneurial owner, Jonathon Rock, leveraged his online clout to amass a smutty fortune.

Some more research revealed that he was single, handsome by the looks of his pictures found online, well-educated, and had a talent for purchasing fledgling and floundering online businesses and cultivating them into highly profitable niche sites. Guessing that after I spoke with Jonathon’s people, I’d know what decision I’d recommend to my friends, I went about my business. 

Less than half an hour later, my phone rang. The caller ID stated, “J Rock.” Intrigued, I answered.

“This is Mary A., and you’re calling me on a Saturday. This had better be good.”

A pleasant, masculine voice laughed into my ear. “I know. I apologize. It’s just that this is too important to wait. My name is…”

“Jonathon Rock,” I finished for him. “The thirty-two-year-old millionaire who took a generic porn site and built an empire of flesh upon its foundation. You recently bought up the company my girls use as their platform. What does that have to do with me?”

He paused. In the background, I could hear the sounds of traffic. “I’m impressed. I was told that you do your homework.”

“Did they forget to tell you that I’m a busy woman? It’s Saturday, and I take weekends off. Cut to the chase, will you?”

Again, that laugh. His voice wasn’t what I’d expected. Call me biased, but my interactions with adult content providers tended to straddle the line between greasy and sleazy. Most of them weren’t what one would call fine, upstanding individuals. Somehow, Jonathon seemed different.

“Look,” he said. “I’m driving through your town right now for other business, but I’d like to meet you face-to-face to discuss the profitability of using your Princess Conclave organization to market both RubHub and our newly-acquired cam site. I plan on fully integrating between the two platforms, and the reason why I bought out Dream Cams was just to have a shot at bringing you and your crew on board.”

“I call bullshit on that one! Do you have any idea how many offers I get every week? How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Let me pull my car over.” I waited a few seconds. “Going to Video Phone.”

I accepted the request, and my jaw dropped when I saw it was actually Mr. Rock. “See?” he laughed. "I'm me. Now, can we talk?"

“I’ll need to check with the girls. I work for them, not the other way around.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve already contacted them and was told that it’s your decision.”

“Alright,” I sighed. “Meet me at 1:30 for lunch, your treat, at a little café called the Cozy Nook. Do you know it?"

“I’ll find it.”

“Good. If I show up, then we’re interested.” 

Hastily, I called or texted my four friends. Their responses echoed each other. Each one of them told the RubHub people that I made the calls. That wasn’t necessarily true, but it felt good to be appreciated. After talking with my friends, all of whom were extremely excited at the prospect of expanding, I pondered what to wear. Normally, I’d go with slightly sexy business attire, but despite Mr. Rock’s confident and friendly demeanor, he was, after all, a porn-monger.

Eschewing typical business wear and justifying that it was Saturday and I had shopping to do, I went with a light, casual skirt and an alluring top. The pixie-hemmed fairy skirt was light and airy, and it swooshed around my thighs with every step. The patchwork, Bohemian top was light, almost gossamer, and hints of my pink lace bra showed through some of the lighter swatches. It was perfect. I looked sexy enough to hold my own against the smut lord, but not so sultry that I’d give the wrong impression. I looked "adult business," not just business.

A small, single braid down one side was the perfect way to do my hair. It looked edgy enough to draw attention to my face, but not so harsh that I looked like I was trying to be alluring. Soft, smoky makeup tied the entire thing together. My laptop, a few notebooks, and other supplies showed that I meant business. My newer, bas-relief pumps were perfect for the meeting.

I had plenty of time to drive into the city, but I waited until I arrived fashionably late. Jerome, our usual waiter, wasn’t there, but I recognized other familiar faces, as well as Jonathon’s. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t what I saw.

Mr. Rock looked like his pictures: handsome and muscular, with a sort of impish, confident charisma about him. He wasn’t lecherously leering at every woman in the place, nor was he particularly seedy. Jonathon’s hair was expertly coiffed, with sharp lines and perfect feathering that accented his strikingly handsome facial features. Pale blue eyes that reminded me of a hot, cloudless day sparkled, and the expression on his face when he saw me was one of sincere delight.

“Mary A!” He gesticulated wildly. “Over here.”

“How did you know it was me?” I sized him up; we would either be allies or opponents after this meeting. Seating myself across from him, and ignoring the fact that he didn’t attempt to hide his eyes appraising me, I pulled out my laptop and fired it up.

“Oh, it’s not rocket science. Not many women lug a satchel filled with business stuff around for lunch. Besides, I studied you and your professional prowess before calling.”

"Really? So, you’ve been stalking me. That’s not creepy at all.”

“No,” he laughed, sliding a menu over, “I’m considering investing a lot of time, bandwidth, and money into you and your conclave. Just like you, I do my homework before I invest.”

“So, if you’ve done your homework, you’d know that I’m just a housewife who...”

“Who has an MBA in marketing, has managed rock groups and other organizations, propelling them to stardom, and who has a knack for conceiving, building, and maintaining a brand. Your track record of success is admirable. Why did you leave the corporate world?”

“I got married and became a housewife, which is much more fulfilling. I’m only doing this to help my friends out.”

The waitress came, addressing me first since she recognized me. We ordered, got some typical chit-chat out of the way, and then he plunged us straight into his proposal, producing a ream of papers from his briefcase.

“Here’s what I’m suggesting.” He handed me a contract, ready to fill out. “I want you and your girls to be under contract with HGT. I’ll pay you all a salary, plus scheduled bonuses.”

“Sit there and look handsome while I look this over,” I instructed.

Grabbing my red marker from my bag, I went through his contract, crossing out most of it. Our food arrived quickly, and he studied me the entire time, grinning.

“This is completely unacceptable,” I told him. “If this is your idea of beneficial, we’ll have no part in it.”

“You didn’t pay attention to the compensation, then. If you look at page…”

“Eight,” I finished for him. “The models and managers, as detailed in section four, paragraph six, under contracted persons, shall receive a flat rate for the duration of their contract. I read it. Complete and utter crap. I may seem foolish, Mr. Rock, but I’m no fool.”

“Johnny. Call me Johnny.”

“As I was saying, Mr. Rock, give me a decent offer, or you’re wasting both our time. You mentioned that you had other business. I hope that goes well for you. My girls are not for sale, and your poor excuse for a contract treats us like chattel, a commodity at your beck and call.”

He laughed and, to my surprise, slid the contract away from me, frowning at the sea of red I’d added. Beaming with amusement, he dramatically ripped up the contract.

“Well, then. I’m happy. I told legal that you were far too smart to go for the standard contract.”

He stared into my eyes, and I felt a very unprofessional heat of arousal shoot from his probing orbs straight to my pussy. I mentally commanded my horniness to go fuck itself; I had business to conduct.

“What’s your counter-offer?” he finished.

Just like that, negotiations were underway. Our lunch meeting took most of the day. Despite my trepidation, the meeting pleasantly surprised me. Jonathon was not what I’d expected. He was charming, witty, and incredibly intelligent. Furthermore, he was not at all what one would expect from a smut-peddler. Johnny was accommodating, polite, and respectful, and he loved to crack jokes. I was enjoying the interaction, and I was strangely attracted to the man. Aside from his wit and business acumen, there was something primal and sexy about him—something that reminded my aching cunt that it had been months since I’d had a hard cock inside of it.

“Do you sleep with your models?” I blurted it out, destroying the little bit of progress I’d made regarding my demands.

He laughed. “No! I’ve had a few offers, but that’s just bad business. Even with consent forms, there’s nothing to stop an actress from making later accusations. You were talking about percentages?”

“Oh, right. Percentages.” I paused. “So you don’t date, then?”

“No, Mary A, I seldom date. I don’t hide what I do for a living, and most women think I’m just some low-life pervert.”

“That explains it. Moving on. As I was saying, the princesses enjoy complete autonomy, not being beholden to any person or company. However, I’m prepared to not only make it worth your while, but I’ll show what our group can do for you and your RubHub thingy.”

He ignored everything I’d said except for the first three words. Jonathon’s face was smiling at me the entire time; his expression was one of interest. “That explains what?”

“Your bio, which was very interesting, said that you were a bachelor, never married, and that not much is known about your personal life.”

“Who’s stalking who, now?”

I blushed. “Nothing personal. I just didn’t want to walk into a bad situation.”

“I understand. It’s just business. Your bio was interesting as well. I feel like I know you, already.”

Somehow, the negotiations took on a new tone. I was feeling something for him; whether it was simply business respect or that I liked him as a person, I wasn’t certain. However, I discovered that I not only liked him and enjoyed his company, but something about Jonathon’s personality, not to mention his stunning, good looks, made my pussy wet.

Rather than swinging a mutually beneficial deal, we flirted with each other for over an hour. What began as a dissertation on what sorts of videos RubHub offered turned into a discussion of sexual kinks. I found myself confessing my journey from a traditional housewife to a hot-to-trot housewife. In reciprocation, Johnny, as I finally began calling him, expressed how he’s attracted to smart, wild women, adding that I fit the bill.

“Are you saying that you want me?” I smiled.

“I won’t deny it, but this is business. Shall we get back to it?”

“Here’s my final and only offer. Give us five days to set up a live stream on both Dream Cams and RubHub, I’m picturing a simultaneous live broadcast to celebrate the union. We’ll take our usual cut from the cam site. I assume our previous agreement with the old webmaster is still in force. If not, I have a copy of it here for you to peruse.”

“Quit marketing just the conclave and come work for me.”

It was my turn to laugh. “They’re my friends. My answer is, NO.”

“Very well, Mary Anne, what cut do you want from the main site?"

“During the next five days, I want to see our teaser videos on the top of every front page of your main site. It will promote the up-and-coming streaming show, as well as your merger. It won’t cost you anything except some prime real estate and resources.”

I paused, scrawling in my notebook. 

“So you’re going to promote for free?”

“Yes, but here are my final, non-negotiable terms.”

With panache, I tore the sheet from the notepad and handed it to him.

He read off my terms. “Full autonomy within the rules of any or all sites; fifteen percent of revenues generated.” He stopped. “You only get eleven percent right now; that’s quite an increase.”

“Which is exactly why we’ll be doing the promotion for free. It will prove to you that we’re more than worth it.

“No more shows until a signed agreement between the Princess Conclave and HGT has been filed.” Johnny scratched his head, looking at me, bemused. “How will you promote without doing any more cam shows? Oh, I see! Your next bulleted point; sorry.”

He chuckled as he read it. “The models shall cross-promote RubHub in lieu of their usual performances. Now I’m intrigued enough to agree to most of this.”

“Read the rest.”

“Oh. I like that. HGT or its agents shall not sign until after the five-day trial period has passed and been evaluated, but this proposal expires forty-eight hours after the streaming show.”

“I need to call the girls and get their seal of approval if you agree.”

“Let me make sure I have this correct. You’re willing to do the promotion, and if I like the results, then, we have a contract?”

I nodded, then picked up my phone to dial Ginger. “A written agreement,” I corrected as I dialed. “We won’t be under your thumb through a contract.”

“So, Mary Anne, what’s going on?” Allison asked me in an excited voice. “We’re all here, waiting to hear from you.”

“Everyone’s with you? That saves time. I’m going to put you all on speakerphone.” I looked at Johnny, quizzically. He nodded. “OK, my friends, I’m at our restaurant with Mr. Rock. We’re all live. Talk.” I set the phone down.

“Hi, ladies,” he said. His sincere tone set them at ease, and his confident smile made me wet. “Here are Mary’s terms.”

They agreed to everything, trusting me. 

“I have just one question,” Kat asked. “If we’re not going to put on a show, what shall we be doing?”

“I have a solid idea, think,” I told them. “Is everyone available for dinner, tonight?” I received four resounding affirmations. “Very well, emergency meeting at my house at six.” I hung up the phone.

“Am I attending dinner as well, as I have a keen interest in the success of my company?”

“No. You are going to pay the check and walk me outside like a proper gentleman. Then, you will wait until the streaming show to give me your opinion and, hopefully, sign the agreement after that. I’ll have it formalized before then.”

“Check, please. You drive a hard bargain, Missus Mary Anne. But you made sure that I risk nothing until I’m convinced you’ll be worth it. I look forward to working with you.”

“It’s Miss, now, I suppose.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “Forgive me; I apologize. Your dossier mentioned that you’d recently been widowed. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

“Hold that thought and walk me out back to my car.”

Don’t think I didn’t feel the heat of your gaze on my body the past few hours, I thought to myself as we left. I hit the unlock button on my car, hearing it chirp. It was the only car in the parking lot.

We’d been chatting about nothing in particular; our business concluded for the time being. “And I’ll be in town for the next eight or so days if you need anything or decide to change your mind. Nice car. I have one of those sedans as well,” Mr. Rock commented.

“Really? I figured that you’d drive a fancy, pretentious sports car.”

“Not my style.”

“You asked me what I needed,” I said. My voice wavered, and I felt very nervous.

“Yes, anything. Business aside, I enjoy your company. What do you need?”

“I apologize. I have a case of nerves. I never do this!” Instead of opening the driver’s side door, I opened the back door and climbed into the spacious rear seat. “Do you have any condoms?”

“Excuse me.”

“Condoms. Do you have any? This has nothing to do with business, but I haven’t had sex since my husband died. I’m strongly physically attracted to you and would like to know if you’d like to fuck me. You can say yes or no. Either way, it won’t have any effect on our business deal.”

“Really? You have to be joking. Just because I work in the adult industry doesn’t mean that I…”

His words died in his throat when I laid back on the seat and spread my legs. “Lick it, suck it, or walk away. The choice is yours. I’m horny, Johnny, and if anyone would understand that’s all it is, it’d be you.”

“Right here? In broad daylight?” 

My fingers shot between my legs and began stroking my swollen clit. There was just something about him that turned me on. Rather than respond, the young entrepreneur eyed my molten sex.

“No condom. I’d love to eat your pussy, though.”

I thrust two fingers into my quivering cunt, moaning. His erection and lusty attention, openly devouring me with eyes, added even more heat to the inferno between my legs.

My words were slurred with arousal, soft sighs, and grunting moans pontificating them. “Lick… do you like watching me fuck myself? Lick… ummm… aaah…my…slutty pussy!”

The rich porn purveyor dropped to his knees in the parking lot; Johnny’s tongue snaked out, twirling over my labia, careful to not interrupt my busy fingers. The smut peddler’s tongue ran up and down my saturated pussy, and he moaned, savoring my nectar.

“Fucking lick my clit. Show me what you’ve learned from your porn, and make me cum.”

He was good, much better than my husband was, may he rest in peace. Mr. Rock knew his way around a woman’s clit, and he began with the perfect amount of pressure, as well as the opportune speed, to instantly force my horny flesh onto the cusp of cumming. My legs wrapped around his head, pulling his eager mouth tighter against my flooded pussy. Masturbating is one thing, but another person giving you pleasure is so much better.

“I’m fucking cumming!” I screamed. Luckily, nobody else was in the general vicinity. “This is what happens when you make me fucking horny, Johnny. Lick my clit. Finger my ass when I cum. Cumming. Oh, fuck; Now!”

Although my body was sorely missing intimacy with others, his sexual expertise heightened that much-needed release. My body shook so hard that my car rocked up and down, the shocks protesting my orgasmic wailing.

“Now pull out your cock and cum for me. Shoot your spunk all over that pussy you just made cum.”

“People might see.”

“Let them. Now stroke it for me.”

He looked nervous at first, but I ignored that. Part of my mind congratulated myself while he jerked his cock over me. I’d taken a potential boss and made him my plaything. Mike would have been so proud.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I soothed. “I’m just horny; I don’t want your damn money, and I don’t care that you’re a smut-lord. Right now, I need you to cum. I’ll be shopping later, and I'll proudly wear your cum on my aching pussy. Stroke it for me. Shoot it on me.”

At my urging, our new, potential patron shot his wad all over my pubic hair. Unprompted, as soon as he’d shot the last spurt, I sat up and took his deflating cock into my mouth. Greedily sucking his jizz off his manhood, I sucked on it and licked it until his breathing was normal once more.

“This may or may not be a one-time thing,” I warned him. “Thank you for the cum. I’ll be in touch.” With that, we shook hands, all businesslike, and I got into the driver’s seat and sped off. 

If he took the agreement, I'd have increased my friend’s potential revenues several times over. Furthermore, I liked him. I didn’t know if there was any potential there, and I was unsure if I was anywhere close to ready to date anyone, but it felt good to be desired. That was exactly what I needed.

Due to the meeting, my schedule was upended. I had intended to spend the day shopping. With the girls coming over for dinner, I only had enough time to make one stop. There was only one place that wasn’t too far out of my way. Luckily, it was the most important item on my shopping list. My entire Halloween costume would depend on what this foray netted me.

I was mildly surprised to discover that I was the only patron in the store. When I arrived, there was only one other car in the parking lot, and it belonged to the clerk. I smiled when I saw him. He was turned to one side, talking on the phone while he looked down at some ledger.

“Yeah,” the youthful voice said. The man’s shaggy hair bobbed as he spoke. "I'm the only one working today, and business is so slow. I’ve only had two customers all day. The last one was over two hours ago. I was thinking about closing early to save on expenses.” He held up a polite finger, indicating that he’d be right with me. I just smirked.

“Okay,” he said, nodding into the phone. “I’ll take care of this last customer that just walked in and then clock out.”

He hung up the phone, put on his professional smile, and turned to me. “Welcome to Elegant Soles. How may I help you?”

The expression on the man’s face, when he saw me, was priceless. My smirk morphed into a smile. Sadistically, I paused, watching his face grow from recognition to shock, then to worry.

“So, it’s Assistant Manager, Jackson, now, is it? Do you remember me?”

My tone was perfect. I spoke with insolence and sarcasm. I then glanced down at the shoes I was wearing. Those expensive, comfortable, designer shoes were the same ones he masturbated into the last time I’d shopped there. His nervous and worried eyes followed mine; they bulged out when they saw the artfully textured pumps.

“You sold me these shoes.” I change my tone for him, letting my needy passion show in my voice. “They need a refill.”

To be continued...