Author's Notes: As is usual to state on Literotica, in case it is not clear enough from the story itself, all characters participating in sexual acts occurring in this story are at least 18 years of age.
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She took several deep breaths as she stared at the heavy, wooden door in front of her. It was a position many young, beautiful women just like her had found themselves in before. Staring at this same door, they felt their hearts beating just as madly as she did now, knowing that the key to lives they've never even imagined was behind them, waiting for them to step in and consent to doing things they never dared to imagine having to do to achieve them.
The only difference was that she was nothing like them.
She was Camila Cabello, the international superstar, and she was there to enjoy doing what she loved doing, instead of anything she might've been reluctant to do at any level.
Unable to take the anticipation anymore, blood boiling in her veins, she stepped forward and slammed the door open.
After she did so, she was welcomed by the same sight that all of those other women were. A tall, very handsome man in his mid-30s was sitting behind an expensive wooden desk, barely registering the commotion that had just invited itself into the quiet space he was inhabiting.
The moment those women saw his rugged, attractive features and muscular body, their moods always changed. What they've feared immediately became something they were cautiously looking forward to.
Camila's mood had likewise changed in a similar direction, though her starting point was much different. What she had been ecstatic about the possibility of, quickly became something she simply couldn't wait to do.
"Aaah, Camila!" the man welcomed her, his deep voice and Scandinavian accent making her pussy moisten instantly, as he pointed at a large black sofa in the middle of the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
"Oh, don't worry Max, I will," she replied coyly as she sat on the sofa, spreading her legs invitingly to him. "So, could you get me that part in the Cinderella movie?"
That was a rhetorical question.
Of
course
he could get her that part. He was Max Thorsson, the greatest, and most secretive, grey eminence of Hollywood. Just as Max Martin, his fellow Max, and fellow Swede, whom most people had never heard about but who was the person behind half of the world's greatest pop music hits, this Max was the man behind a large number of the world's greatest blockbusters. With close ties, which some people even claimed to be blood ones, to the royal families of both Sweden and Norway, as well additional, looser ties to dozens upon dozens of other gigantic estates and unimaginably wealthy clients, he was a man who could make or break A-class stars on the very sofa Camila was now sitting on, even though his name was unknown even to many lower players in show business.
That said, that wasn't what he had expected to do today.
"Of course I can give you that," he replied, sounding both slightly insulted and
greatly
amused. "I mean, you could've just texted me to get it. You aren't some loser newbie. You didn't have to come in here for this."
"Well..." she replied, grinning mischievously as she did so, "maybe I have some, as a poet might say, ulterior motives."
"Oh, that!" he said with feigned, exaggerated excitement. "I think I know what you mean. Tamara mentioned something about you not being able to wait until you'll get to show me your ´fat Latina ass´ and ´bounce´ it on my ´giant-ass prick´."
"She's just the best assistant, isn't she?" Camila mockingly asked in reply, chortling as she did so.