Part 3: Sealing the Deal
At a 9:00 am meeting four days latter Jenna Booth -- still using the alias Anna Swan -- presented her sales pitch to the complete Gang of Four. An hour later she exited the conference room so that they could assess her proposal. That evening they dined at the Blueblood Steakhouse.
"We're prepared to accept your money and take you on as a partner," Edwin said.
"As an equal partner?" she asked.
"Our partnership is based on mutual financial interest and lack of trust," Harry said.
"That means we all have something on the other guy," Dillon said.
"None of us will do anything silly," Ron said. "Because if he did, we'd ruin him financially by publicizing the damming information we have on him."
"But we don't have anything on you, Jenna," Edwin said.
"Do you want me to do to something incriminating?" she asked. "Like rob a bank?"
"How about something more erotic," Dillon suggested.
"I told them about Saturday afternoon and your sexual prowess," Edwin said
Four sets of leering eyes focused on her.
"What exactly do you have in mind?" she said. Her voice was icy cold.
"We'll film you being a fuck toy?"
She picked up her wine glass and sipped some of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Then she looked around the restaurant. No one was within earshot.
"Let me get this straight," she said. "I can become a member of this financial cabal only if I'm the lead in a porn video?"
"Exactly. Then we'll have something on you."
"We've done our homework," Ron said. "Your principal backer is Alexander Rhodes, a notorious right-wing Bible-thumper. He'd pull his funds in a flash if we released a sex tape staring you."
They all drank their wine while she thought about their proposition.
"Who's the wood?"
"We thought of hiring professional stud muffins," Edwin said. "But I've had you and seen what you can do. It'll be us."
The four of them smiled lasciviously.
"If I agree then you'll have something on me," she said. "But we'll only be equal partners if I have copies of whatever it is that you have on one another."
Two immediately protested. Two were silent.
"Why don't you talk it over while I go to the Ladies."
She rose from the table and sauntered across the room on her high heels. The eyes of almost everyone in the restaurant followed the stunning redhead in her tight bodycon sheathe.
She entered the woman's washroom, sat down on the toilet, retrieved the phone from her purse, and called Monique.
"Contact Rhodes," she said. "Warn him that someone may be asking about his financial interest in my fictious investment fund."
"Okay."
"What would you say if I managed to obtain incriminating evidence on each of the members of the Gang of Four?"
"Wait a sec."
Two minutes later Monique said, "Do that and the Major will promote you."
She returned from the washroom and eased into her brown leather chair. Her short dress rode up revealing most of her shapely thighs.
"Well?" she asked.
Ron grabbed her purse, opened it, and took out her phone.
"What the fuck," she said.
He scrolled through her calls. "You phoned a Monique Laroche while you were in the washroom. Talk."
She looked at four cold faces. The deal might hang on her response. Monique had warned her that these four men could be mean, vicious, and unscrupulous.
She took a deep breath.
"She's a member of a sex club. I wanted her advice and suggestions about gangbangs."
Lies came naturally to Jenna.
"If you want, I'll call her again and put it on speaker phone."
The four men looked at one another.
"I guess I've tipped my hand," she said. "Yeah, I'll star in your porn flick. That'll be your hold over me. In return, you share with me the dirt you have on one another, and then the Gang of Four becomes the Gang of Five."
The men exchanged looks.
"Boys, now you put up or shut up."
She counted time on her fingers.
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An hour later they entered a well-appointed suite at the Windsor Arms, with a luxurious sitting room, a sumptuous bedroom, a spa-level bathroom, and halogen lamps on tripods. A man with a camera sat by the door.
"We thought we'd come to terms," Edwin said, "so this afternoon we rented this room and hired a professional videographer. He wanted the lighting to be just right."
She strolled into the bedroom. Handcuffs hung from the wooden backboard of the king-sized bed. Ankle cuffs were at the foot of the bed. On the nightstand were various dildos, jars of ointments, a blindfold, a ball gag, a small leather whip, a double strand nipple chain, and a large box of condoms.
"You're going to do a sexy striptease that Scott will film," Edwin commanded. "Then you're going to select a dildo, lie on the bed, separate your legs, put on the ankle cuffs, and stimulate yourself until you come."
"And after that?" she asked.
"You don't what to know."
She picked up the remote control, turned on the TV, and scrolled to the jazz station. It was playing Duke Ellington's Harlem Nocturne.
Smiling at Scott said, "Roll the camera."
She moved to the centre of the suite and began a slow sexy pouting striptease. It took the duration of the three-minute song for her to gradually disrobe.
Naked, she swayed into the bedroom and ripped off the bedspread. The snow-white sheets were 1,000 thread Egyptian cotton.
She picked up a quarter-meter studded dildo. Then she sat on the foot of the bed, spread her legs apart and fastened them with the ankle cuffs.
She was totally exposed to the videographer. Wide open pussy lips below a narrow strip of trimmed red pubic hair.
Looking into his camera she began by massaging her breasts with the vibrating dildo until her nipples with their overly large areolas became hard and erect. Then she slowly drew the pulsating plastic penis down her toned stomach. She circled her navel and then eased it towards her clit.
It took only a few minutes for her to reach a pinnacle. She closed her eyes. She could feel the orgasm building inside her. She was panting, nostrils flared.
