"Be serious," she snapped, tossing her long blonde curls. "I'm Carsyn Leigh. I don't do songs with gangster rappers."
Her manager, Ben Kasper, sighed. He slammed his laptop shut, pleased that Carysn jumped at the sound.
"Carsyn, it's been over eight months since you've been in the charts. You're 18. The time to strike is now. Crossovers are a hot market. You want to go pop, and Ty Miller can get you instant credibility. He's on the rise. His last album outsold yours by nine million," Ben said.
Carsyn sniffed in contempt. Her green eyes flashed daggers at her manager for bringing up the stark truth. Her career was floundering.
Since she was 14, Caryson had been a shooting star on the country music scene. Her house was decorated with Grammys and Moonmen. Lately, after her last album didn't sell, the interest in her was cooling off. Ben wanted to keep her relevant, she knew, but at what cost?
"I want to go pop," she agreed, finally. "I don't want to work with misogynistic assholes that wear gold grills and flash gang signs."
"Well, that limitation might be insurmountable," Ben said. "Call me when you decide. Ty is very busy right now and needs an answer by tomorrow. I took a meeting with his team yesterday and they tell me he's very interested. Don't write him off so quickly," Ben warned.
With that, Ben left Carysn's penthouse suite. Carsyn sighed and made her way to her kitchen.
The granite and stainless steel chef's kitchen was imposing when she first moved in, but now she was used to it. She flicked on the recessed lights and wandered over to the fridge for her nightly indulgence, a big glass of red wine. It did nothing to help keep her 5'10" lithe frame slender, but it did relax her. She could be "tightly wound" as her mother used to tell her.
Tightly wound was what it took to be a superstar, though. If Carsyn didn't pay attention to every detail and engineer her celebrity persona, she'd have dropped off the radar of the American public a lot faster than she currently was.
Carsyn pulled out her smartphone and ignored the various social media notifications. She googled Ty Miller, stage name T Shot. She clicked over to images.
He was handsome, of course, especially when he smiled. His skin was almost the exact opposite of hers, a rich dark brown compared to her lily white. She wondered briefly what it would look like to see his skin on hers, but then she pushed the thought from her mind. She looked back at the photos. He had beautiful dark eyes and very white, straight teeth. Almost all of the top photos on Google showed him surrounded by buxom women wearing very little. He was also usually holding a bottle of liquor. He looked like a stereotypical rapper, in her opinion. True, his last album had been amazing, but she wasn't sure she wanted him to be a part of her career. He just seemed so different. Would her fans understand?
Carsyn finished her glass of wine while she watched some of his rap videos. He had moves, she thought. He was probably smart. Definitely sexy. Carsyn left her wine glass in the kitchen, knowing her maid would take care of it in the morning. She made her way to her bedroom.
If the kitchen was elaborate, her bedroom was ostentatious. Carsyn practically needed a ladder to climb into the huge white bed with down pillows and soft cotton sheets. She slipped out of her dress and tossed it on the floor. She slept naked, a lifelong habit.
Along with her wine, Carsyn had another nightly indulgence. She ran her hands over her slim body, feeling the smooth skin and the hard hip bones underneath. Her lower stomach was a sensitive place, and goosebumps rose at the sensation of her fingers moving over her flesh. Her hands snaked lower, reaching the slight mound between her legs, stroking lightly. She was already wet in anticipation of her nightly ritual.
Carsyn closed her eyes and tried to conjure the images that would normally get her where she needed to be. Her fingers moved against the small bud that dominated so many of her thoughts lately. Pressing gently and then harder as she stroked, she opened her legs wider and let her thoughts run wild. She imagined herself fucking an entire college football team after they lost the big championship game. She moaned at the images coming to her, sweaty skin and hard cocks slamming into her pussy. Gradually, under her insistent fingers, the bud became more sensitive and each time she passed over it, it felt better and better. When she couldn't take it any longer, she slipped a finger inside herself, and then another one. She was so wet they slid in easily.
She pumped steadily, moaning out loud. She worked her hand faster and faster, desperate to come. Carsyn ran a up her body, squeezing her small breast. Her temperature rose until a fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead. She worked her body into a frenzy, but still her orgasm wouldn't come.
Panting and frustrated, she finally allowed herself to think of Ty Miller. She imagined his cock, black and thick and impossibly big. Carsyn slipped a third finger inside of herself and rubbed her clit with an inexplicable urgency. She screamed as she came, shaking with the force of her orgasm.
Carsyn Leigh slept very well that night, for the first time in a long time.
"He wants to take a meeting first," Ben said. "Real quick, at his studio. You'd record there if you go through with this."
Carsyn paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She pushed the rest of her salad around her plate.
"I don't take meeting," she said. "I give meetings."
"Carsyn, don't let your pride get in the way. The meeting is tonight. I gave your driver the address. You can go after the concert."
"That's so late," Carsyn protested.
"Ty keeps late hours," Ben said. He wiped his face with his napkin and glanced at his watch. "Speaking of being late, we should get to the venue."
Carsyn rolled her eyes. Ben could be such a buzzkill, but he kept her on time and moving from one event to the next. Her concert was going to be at a small, intimate venue to disguise the fact that there was no way she was selling tickets like she used to. Oh, to be 14 again, she thought dryly. She didn't really mean it, but she knew she had to get her sales back up before everyone lost interest.
At the concert venue, she changed into a slim red dress and black high heels. The dress had a back cutout that allowed Carsyn to show off her lacey black bra. It might have been a tad obvious, but she needed to signal to the world that she was a grown up. Carsyn curled her own hair and did her own makeup, something she had done from the beginning of her career. She chose a bright red lipstick to complete her look. She looked sexy, she knew, and she liked it. She ran a hand over her dress to smooth it out as it hugged her slim hips. Her legs were her best asset and she liked to put on impossibly high heels to give them even more length.
The show went well. Carsyn enjoyed being on stage. Her voice was only growing stronger, and she was testing out some new material for the album and the audience really seemed to like it. All in all, a success, but now she was tired and had to go meet Ty Miller. She thought about changing outfits, but she was tired and wanted to get this over with. She didn't mind Ty seeing her in her stage costume. She felt powerful in it, and she wanted him to know she wasn't going to be pushed around if they did a collaboration.
The driver took her immediately to the studio, which, Carsyn had to admit, was fancier than she has supposed. She breezed past the marble foyer and made her way to the sound studio by following the signs. Carsyn knocked and entered.
The studio was dimly lit. Carsyn could make out several leather couches and a mini fridge and the immense soundboards where mixing was done. At the controls sat a tall, gorgeous black man. He smiled at her, taking in her outfit.
"You don't disappoint, Carsyn Leigh," he said.
Carsyn swallowed hard. She stood still as he crossed the distance to shake her hand. His hand was warm and so big it nearly engulfed hers. Even though she was extra tall with her heels, he still towered over her.
"Do I call you Ty or T Shot?" she asked.
"You...you can call me whatever you want," he said finally. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was even more muscular than his photos. He smiled as he took in her gaze as it roamed over his body. God, he was beautiful, she thought. She met his dark eyes again, trying to not be distracted.
"My manager said you wanted a meeting. Well, I'm here," she said shortly. She knew she was coming off as a bitch, but she didn't care. Every nerve in her body was on fire. She wanted to touch him so bad. But business and pleasure didn't mix. She was a country pop princess and he was a bad boy rapper.
"Ben said you were searching for a rapper to fill 45 seconds on your new track. I'd like to fill that hole," Ty said. He smirked. He knew exactly what words he was picking.
Carsyn sank into a couch and crossed her long legs. She let the silence fall around them. Ty stayed standing, watching her intently. He was dressed all in black and looked quite intimidating with all of his muscles tightly outlined. Carsyn's thoughts drifted to her epic orgasm last night and she dropped her gaze to the bulge in his pants before she could reign herself in. A flush marched across her cheeks. She would not think about that.
