March 2018, Los Angeles, California.
Investor parties really sucked. Not because the food was bad or because the music was bad, no. They sucked because I always found myself surrounded by the fakest people I've ever met. And coming from someone in this industry, that says a lot. Snooty rich folk with fake laughs, fake interests, fake everything.
They weren't all bad. I met Milana Vayntrub at one of them last year. Usually, I'd run into a lovely lady I'd either fooled around with or never met. I didn't have Ana with me, so I was just standing around. I scanned the overcrowded ballroom, hoping to see someone I knew so I could stop looking like a kid without a date on prom night.
I found no one. Instead of trying to carefully avoid the old woman with too much perfume, I made my way towards the bar. I sat down at the counter, signaled for the bartender, and asked him for something a little strong to get me through the night.
"Hello there." A light, airy voice came from the left of me. Her accent floated around in my head like a scent that wouldn't go away. Clearly English but with an added touch that made it sound sweeter.
I turned my head quickly, trying my best to mask my surprise at the slim woman sitting next to me. I recognized her. Anya Taylor Joy. While we never directly spoke to each other, I knew about her.
"Hello," I said, turning slightly in my seat to get a good look at her. She was wearing an ice-white cocktail dress that burned as hot as her platinum-blonde hair. A small baby-blue necklace sat on her chest with the jewel sitting between her pert cleavage. Just enough of a tease to make a man fantasize about being in there, but not too much to violate any dress codes. Her makeup was done to perfection with a slight blush on her cheeks, light blue lipstick and matching thick eyeshadow that gave her a sort of, dominant, ice queen look.
"Tennerman, right?" Anya asked, placing a delicately manicured deep black finger on her chin.
"Yup."
"They suckered you into this? I would've never guessed." Anya smiled.
"It is what it is," I shrugged as the Bartender gave me my shots. "At least the booze is free."
"Hm." Anya muttered to herself, a subtle smirk never leaving her face.
"You want some?" I asked, holding out the second shot after quickly downing the first.
"No. Thank you though." Anya said.
"So," I started. "You seem a little far from home."
"I am. But you know how these things are, work and more work." Anya said.
"Oh I know. Definitely." I said.
"You working on anything? Anything big and bold?" Anya asked, speaking more with her hands.
"Nothing big and bold. Little stuff right now. Hallmark kinda stuff."
"Huh. Must be nice." Anya grinned.
"What makes you say that?"
"You already know. Those big ones are an absolute mess." Anya said.
"The paycheck certainly isn't." I shrugged.
"Amen to that." Anya laughed lightly, her hand tapping my knee. I looked down briefly, noticing she hadn't moved her hand away. She'd actually moved it up to my inner thigh, the big, eccentric silver ring that sat on her middle finger glided across the fabric of my dress pants with ease.
"Don't want to alarm you but we're kind of in a room full of people." I said.
"Oh really?! I had no idea." Anya said, her deep brown, wonderfully expressive eyes wide and full of burning sarcasm. Anya was now openly groping me in public, her firm hand on my crotch.
"I'm not complaining, just saying I'm a little more comfortable with private sex than public. Especially with our image and all that. Well, more specifically yours."
"Oh, I know, but I have to ask," Anya leaned forward and brought her voice down to a whisper.
"Were you in New York in October?" Anya asked, an almost childlike grin plastered on her lovely face.
"Um..." I froze up, remembering that Taylor was adamant that I keep our evening private.
"Hm?" Anya squeezed my bulge tight as her eyes went from curious to glaring daggers.
"Yeah..." I mumbled.
"Yes!" Anya cheered softly to herself like she'd found a rare PokΓ©mon.
"Why?" I asked, my voice still low.
"Taylor was buzzing about you. It's a shame she's always so damned busy." Anya scoffed.
"She was?" I asked.
"She didn't give you her number? She told me you did."
"I texted her when I got back home, but I got no response."
"She must've changed numbers." Anya muttered with her hand now just massaging my member through my pants.
"You... uh wanna let go?" I asked, noticing Anya was staring out into space while continuing to rub me to full hardness.
"No. No I don't." Anya grinned, her eyes still darting across the room. Her pupils dilated slightly, and her face narrowed towards the corner of the room.