The Inheritance
(Introduction)
Most people nowadays are messed up mentally or emotionally in one way or another. You have the global economy, people losing their hard earned Dollar, Euro, Yen, or whatever, to the avalanche of corporate greed, causing them to take their frustrations out on themselves or their family. You have the those who are laid-off from a job they held for decades who now find it hard to even get a job at a local coffee shop, and the list of casualties go on and on. Then there are people like me, who have just been fucked up for years. I'm talking about emotionally. I'm not a rapist or pedophile, or murderer, just someone who by the hands of his own parents has been so morally corrupt; I just don't know how to live a normal life. Let me explain. Um, yeah, where to begin? Hmm. Now that I want to tell my story, it seems I don't know how to tell it. Fuck it, I'll just start from the beginning.
In 1965 my father began publishing a porn magazine in Europe. Three years later, on a scouting trip for in Brazil, he met my mother. One year later I was born, four years after that, the small hardcore magazine became an international sensation. It was the first to feature in its pages, everything sexual; nothing left to the imagination. My parents became very, very wealthy from this and flaunted their wealth in a lavish, overindulgent, flamboyant, sex crazed lifestyle. It was in this arena that I grew up. Most things I won't even divulge unless in the presence of a professional that can prescribe drugs.
When I became of age, I left home and moved from our families St. Tropez estate to the U.S. to pursue my education and to escape my overly permissive parents. Before I left home, I knelled before the Virgin Mary at St. Harold's Cathedral in ST. Tropez and swore I would never; live the life that my parents lived and sanely and voluntarily, took on a vowel of abstinence. No, I didn't become a Priest; I had just seen enough and experienced enough that scared me for the rest of my life.
In college, I became engulfed in studies and graduated at the top of my class, which landed me a job at the Investment Bank, Goldman Sachs. During my time in school and in the work force I never spoke a word to my parents. I never forgave them, for all the things they exposed me to. Which I would later regret. Thirteen years later, both of my parents died in a car accident, and even though I harbored hatred and anger, I still felt a since of guilt for not making amends.
During my younger years, my father taught me about the business of sex and, how to sell it, market it, publish it and distribute it. How to photograph it, how to produce it and how to film it, his dream, his goal, was for one day to have me take over the business. And now, his goal is being fulfilled.
I hate porn. I despise the business that preys on those who have no other talent than to perform the most abhorrent sexual acts for money.
So here's the deal. In order to inherit what my father has left me, which includes, multiple real-estate holdings from the French Riviera, to Copacabana, Brazil and a 450 million dollar trust, I and I alone must make his fledgling Porn Empire, rise again, pardon the pun. I have ten years to turn it into a multi-million dollar business or lose everything to a bunch of money hungry French Lawyers. Fuck is me!
Dr. Laura Watson, PHD. 55 W. 5th Avenue, New York, NY.
"So, how has your weekend?" Dr. Watson asks.
"It was uneventful. I went out to a couple of clubs, got laid and high."
"With Samanta?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you have sex with Samanta?"
"No, she's out of town for three weeks."
"So, you had another affair?"
"A fling. Affair denotes some type of relationship."
"Says who?"
"I don't know, people."
"Have you told Samanta about the many women you have been with, when she is not around?"
"I really don't think she would care."
"How do you know?"
"You do know that she is in Porn?"
"Yes."
"So why would she care?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
Samanta Brione, a Vietnamese/French born woman, literally saved my life of self destruction when my parent died. She grounded me, stabilized me, cared and still cares for me and loves me. But yet, I just can't see remaining faithful to a woman whose profession of choice is Porn, and not that soft, Cinemax after dark stuff either. So every time she is out on location making a movie or whatever, I just lose it.
"She knows."
"How do you know?"
"I don't know, but she knows."
"How long have you been coming here?"
"Eleven years."
"During which time you have made some very good strides in making your life better, and helping you is..."
"Yeah, yeah I know." God I hated when she made me feel guilty. It was the same thing with my parents, she guilted me into forgiving them.
"Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?"
"When you don't want to hear something, you cut me off."
"Because I don't want to hear it."
"Do you love Samanta?"
"With all my heart."
"So why don't you act like you do?"
Dr. Watson looks at her watch. "Well times up. I will see you on Thursday."
As I left the office, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I looked at the caller ID and it was Samanta.
"Hello."
"Bonjour Sebastian!"
Hearing her voice, made me melt, even after all these months together, I never tiered of her French accent. My heart raced and pictures developed in my mind of her. I sighed lightly. And closed my eyes, "Hello."
The Inheritance
(Episode 1)
Impanema Beach, 1976
My father and I sat on deserted section of Impanema Beach, marveling at the morning sites, the women who come here, before the tourist raid. Now that I think about it, I do have many nice memories of just my father and I bonding...maybe not nice, normal memories, considering that most of the time we spent together, he was scouting for models, using me as a magnet. Son of a bitch!
"You see that one over there son?" he points to this woman emerging from the sea, like an Ocean Goddess, leaving her watery home to claim victory over the land.
"That is the type of woman that men melt over."
She was beautiful, stunning, and exotic and dripped with erotic sexual energy. I have to give my father credit for on thing, he knew how to pick women.
As Goddess left her watery home, she walked on the hot sandy beach, running her hands through her hair, exposing her naked chest. The only thing the eye could see on her was a small patch of white that covered her womanhood, attached to a thin piece of string. Even twenty something years later, I can vividly see her in my mind.
Aware of the gawking stares that my father and I gave, she glances over at us and smiles enticingly. She then lies on her blanket and offers her flesh to the sun god as a sacrifice.
Before I knew it, my father was talking to her exchanging information, no doubt telling her about his business. One thing that my parents loved about Rio was the endless stream of beautiful women, women that would do just about anything, to escape the poverty that was so prevalent, which is one of the many reasons I despise porn so much.
Goddess, the next day was at our estate in Copacabana, modeling for my father's camera. For eight hours, the first three, she was photographed in sexually suggestive poses, which in it self was beautiful. But my father's magazine was not known for beautiful images.
Most people have pleasant childhood memories, of baking cookies, flying kites and being taught how to ride a bike. I have memories of orgies and being taught what the correct camera exposure is for a cum shot.
My childhood wasn't a childhood, which is why those who know me are constantly telling me that I need to grow up and stop acting like a child. I may know how to make millions, but when it comes to the things that normal people enjoy and take for granted, I really don't think I can ever have. Yeah I may have a steady girlfriend, but what normal guy, has a porn starlet for a girlfriend? I know there are a lot of guys that dream of it, but in reality, it comes with a lot of baggage.
The first thing that I knew about turning this business into a multi-million dollar operation, was that I need a group of people who thought like me when it came to making money, and who were ruthless when it came to business.
First on my list was an old competitor of mine when I was with Goldman Sachs. Linda Hoffman, cost me and my firm over three years, three hundred million dollars, god knows how she did it, but all I knew was if she could steal that kind of money from some of the best investment bankers in world, then she could help me make this inherited business of mine, into a multi-million dollar operation. Beautiful, ruthless, cutthroat, and fowl mouthed, the king of girl that every guy dreams about.
Her first task was to figure out how we can get a mostly European adult magazine, into the hands of the un-tapped American market.
If you could find one of our magazines in the U.S., meant that that you would have to go into a shady peep-show store, and thumb through a bunch of back dated magazines. And then walk out and pray to god no one you knew saw you.
The internet did bring about some recognition, although, most of the images up on the web, are there illegally. My father did many things right when it came to protecting intellectual property, he copy wrote everything. So to move in that direction, of the internet, I needed a lawyer who was not only good at law, but was good at threats and following through with those threats. Enter Charles Dunlap. Once apart of the wealthiest law firm in the world, litigated over three thousand cases, and even better, sued and won five thousand cases on copy rite infringement.
Of course you can't run a million dollar operation without a good accountant, and I searched high and low for this guy. John Pine. When I found him, he was in a bar in the Florida Keys, drinking his life away. Brilliant in all aspects of business practices, was once the top accountant in the country. Nowadays no one would touch him, ever since the Enron thing. I figured if he could keep all their money together for that long of time, then he could do the same for me. The only thing, I had to set him up in France being that his license could not be restored here in the States.
Wanda Harris, hasn't made a million dollars in the stock market, she hasn't be apart of any multi-million dollar business, but she is just as valuable as any other person apart of my bandits. Wanda is sort of my conscience. Even though I own and run a highly immoral business, she guides me away from things that...that are inhumane; like human trafficking, and things like that, which as one would expect can be apart of the daily operations of flesh business. No I tend to stay away from things like forced sex. I want all those employed by me, to do the degrading things that my publications are know for... willingly.
Rounding up my ruthless band of business mercenaries was a personal assistant. Yes, I don't think that I could do anything without Janna Jane. And yes that is her real name and no she is not in the porn business. Janna knows too much about my personal life to be let go. She has been my assistant for the last ten years, and I have done a lot of dirt, for the tabloids and the Government to know, and she knows everything, even the stuff that could land me in Federal prison for a long time. The only reason that I am not there, is because she refuses to talk. God I love her!
I have a meeting with Linda at Peter Luger's Steak house in Williamsburg to discuss the website. From the tone on the phone, I knew it would not be a fun meeting. When Linda get's upset, she curses way beyond the normal, and she rambles on about everything.
"Fucking assholes!"
"Who?"
"Those fucking techies we hired to do the fucking website. They are all a bunch of fucking thieves."
"Why do you say that?"
"They want another fucking eight five thousand dollars."
"For what?"
"They need more people to do the scanning of the magazines."
"That sounds legit tell John to pay them."
"It's the fucking principle. You can't say you can do a job and in the middle of the job say that you need more money."
"It happens all the time. Costs go up, price of material and so forth. We need to get this thing up soon, so pay them."
"I still think they are bunch of fucking thieves." She looks up at the waiter and orders. "I will take the porter house medium and a bottle of Dom Perignon. Thank you."
"Hungry?"
"Fucking asshole."
"Who are you cursing at now?"
"My husband. Fucking asshole. He passed up a job, because it would take him away from Sara's Soccer practice."
"That's good I think. For a parent wanting to spend time with their child."
"Yeah, but Sara thinks he's a bit smothering. And she doesn't even like sports."
"Why is she playing them?"
"Because my husband wants her too."
I look over Linda's shoulder and see my assistant standing at the Matre'D stand. I wave her over.
"Who's that?" Linda asks me.
"Janna."
"Sebastian, do you know what today is?"
"Umm, Wednesday."
