Going Up

Siren felt suspicious again. Why was the president of the studio being so nice to her? She was a nobody. What did he want in exchange for helping her? A blowjob? A piece of ass? In her experience, men, even friendly men, weren't nice for no reason, not when it came to a beautiful woman or, in her case, a beautiful transsexual. Still, she had no choice but to accept his offer to provide her with a new gown and a note excusing her absence from the set. Inwardly, she shrugged at the thought that she'd have to suck Charlie's cock or take it up her ass-or both. Such an exchange of favors might be quid pro quo, but it was certainly worth it. She might become a star yet, especially with Charlie Fenton in her corner.

She looked around the spacious room. Carpeted in burgundy, it was elegantly furnished and decorated. Everything was polished or burnished and shone or glinted. A small maple desk with a Tiffany lamp, backed with a deep-cushioned executive's chair, bore a laptop computer, and a wooden file cabinet, also of maple, occupied one of the corners, near the draped and shaded windows. On both side walls, maple bookcases boasted leather-bound, gilt-edge volumes of some of the world's greatest authors. A large, cut-glass chandelier was the main light source, but it was not illuminated. There were a maple couch and a matching loveseat, both upholstered in velvet, a maple coffee table with a glass top in front of the former. A bar held two dozen bottles of various liquors, and there were crystal goblets, wineglasses, and steins on glass shelves behind the bar. A brass ice bucket occupied the end of a nearby countertop, beside which was a small sink. A side room was furnished with a king-size bed and dresser, of matching maple. Off the bedroom, a full bath opened.

"Your office has a bedroom-and a bath?" Siren asked, incredulity in her tone.

"This is more my den. My office-the one in which I do most of the studio's business-is through that connecting door-" he motioned toward a heavy paneled door between the bar and a mural that looked suspiciously like the work of Rembrandt-"but, had we gone there, we'd have had to pass through Ms. Hendricks' office first."