Chapter 32 Cal
Cal
I’m serenading the beautiful woman in front of me, and I think she’s into it.
Sure, we’re standing by the fireplace in Alchemy’s main reception room, waiting for the others to get their shit together so we can all sit down.
It also may be eleven o’clock in the morning, but she’s into it.
I can tell.
I have my head bent so my mouth is right by her ear and only she is privy to my sweet, sweet words.
I’m gonna fuck you, I croon to the tune of You are my Sunshine.
I’m gonna fuck you,
I’m gonna fuck you till you’re sore.
And when I fuck you,
Oh, when I fuck you,
The only word you’ll scream is ‘more’.
She’s pinching the bridge of her nose hard, her entire body shaking with laughter. I drop a kiss on her bare shoulder and take a big inhale before launching into the second verse with gusto.
I’m gonna eat you—
‘Please stop,’ she kind of laugh-sobs, her palm going to my chest. ‘I can’t take it.’
Her touch against my heart feels great, even through my shirt, and I’m reminded once more of exactly how keen I am for one hundred percent nudity between us.
‘But I have so many more verses,’ I say, my voice filled with mock hurt. ‘You’re gonna blow me, I’m gonna rail you… I was planning on finishing with You love my di-ick.’
She snorts and lets her forehead drop to my shoulder, and I use the opportunity to snake my arm around her waist and pull her a little closer. We’re not a couple—obviously—but we’ve been intimate enough that touching her feels natural. That she looks and smells sexy AF only helps.
Besides, I like making her laugh. It’s not like I can deliver some intelligent commentary on her attack on Dowling the other night.
Comedy’s more my niche than political insight, so I’ll stay in my lane.
And if playing the fool helps build our working relationship and her comfort levels with me, then all the better.
Because I meant it.
I’m gonna fuck her.
Aida’s come here this morning not, astonishingly enough, for my cock or my vocal cords, but for a sit-down with all of us to discuss the progress of the documentary. She’s looking sleek and professional in a fine-knit sleeveless camel turtleneck-thingy with cream trousers and killer heels.
All I know is that this power player vibe she has going on makes me feral. And when I pull back enough to look at her, those dark eyes of hers are amused and interested in equal measure.
‘I think it’s too early to say the L-word,’ she says drily, ‘but I’m definitely into your dick, if you couldn’t tell the other day.’
I smirk, my fingers flexing on the indent of her waist. ‘I could tell, baby.’
‘You two look cosy,’ Gen remarks, bustling in through the double doors.
She’s particularly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today—she’s been like this all morning.
The Big Bad Wolff must have given her a particularly good seeing-to last night.
When she’s like this I tend to piss her off by referring to it as her BCE—Big Clipboard Energy.
If she didn’t enjoy fucking so much she’d have made a great headmistress.
I ignore her comment, but Aida springs away from me as if we’re two teenagers sprung behind the bike sheds and goes to hug her.
* * *
It appears that, despite not having had my cock properly yet, Aida is also full of Big Clipboard Energy, because she has a lot of updates for us.
I have no clue how she’s juggling all this documentary stuff with mothering two boys, preparing for her weekly Centre Stage interviews and all the other pop-ups she does on various BBC news and current affairs shows during the week.
She may not be one of the main anchors anymore, but she’s heavily involved.
Her life makes me feel exhausted and also lazy, because I have a pretty nice gig with my little financial side hustle at Cerulean one day a week, organising events for Alchemy by day, and participating in them by night.
I’ve always considered myself an ambitious, successful guy, but it’s a bit lame when I put it in the context of Aida’s calendar.
As the creative vision behind the documentary, she’s appointed herself as the primary liaison between the Azure, Creatrix—the production company—and Alchemy.
The programme is scheduled to drop on two consecutive Thursdays in January, with the intention of blowing everyone’s New Year blues out of the water with our salacious (by Azure’s standards) content.
That’s under four months from now, but the trailer is slated for two weeks’ time and will inevitably prompt an avalanche of press and social media interest and a torrent of requests.
Aida and I have already shot some footage for the trailer—far more for her than me.
Mine mainly involved me sitting in a chair in the suite at the Lanesborough, dramatically lit and sexily satanic (Aida’s brief to me) in all-black, while spouting various provocative soundbites that she and the Creatrix team concocted to ignite curiosity.
I’m sure it will also ignite plenty of judgement and slut-shaming, the brunt of which she will undoubtedly bear.
The thought makes me fucking furious.
Still, I’m sure I’ll be in for my fair share of ribbing from my mates when they see me intone such pearls of wisdom as all women deserve to know mind-bending pleasure. And I’m the man to give it to them.
Even I baulked at that one. But I understand I’m playing a part here.
I represent an opportunity, a truth that can liberate.
I’m a unicorn, an enigma. The skilled sex club owner whose ultimate act of altruism is helping women discover the power that lies within their own bodies.
They’re painting me as some kind of sex maestro, and I’m not exactly complaining.
Possibly the strangest part of the whole charade is that I’ve spent far less time obsessing over how much more pussy I’ll get after it airs than I thought I would.
I mean, come on. I’ll be chest-deep in pussy for the foreseeable future.
I’ll be a sex celebrity. A sex-lebrity, even?
Women will stop me in the street and beg me to fuck them, to “teach” them, or so I imagine.
Gen, devious little witch that she is, even threw that visual out there when she was getting me over the finish line on signing up for this.
You won’t just have a reputation at Alchemy, she purred. You’ll have a national, or probably international, reputation for being the man to see when women want to be fucked back to life. Surely that’s your life’s goal?
I confess she wasn’t far wrong. I should be high-fiving myself in the bathroom mirror each morning in anticipation, but I’m far too caught up in wondering just how much I can blow Aida’s lights out to give much bandwidth to those faceless women.
In any case, the programme will be controversial.
The woman fronting it will be even more so.
The trailer will probably break the internet.
So I understand why an intense and intricate PR and social media plan is so necessary for proactive and reactive reasons alike.
Maddy’s in her element. Azure has fancy people doing fancy campaigns, but Alchemy will be playing its part, disseminating the official graphics and leveraging the likely uptick in profile while also reassuring its members that their privacy is still of the upmost importance.
It’s also a superb opportunity to tie the main message of the documentary in with our own ongoing educational content and hopefully attract more women of Aida’s age as members.
It’s been bothering us for a while that our over-forty members skew far more towards men.
Hopefully this platform will give us the power to change that.
Aida runs us through the lineup from now till mid November, when filming is due to draw to a close, aside from pickups and concluding segments. While the interviewing timetable is a scheduling masterpiece, the fucking timetable, for want of a more technical term, is the absolute opposite.
There are a few reasons for this. First, very little footage of us fucking will actually be captured. This isn’t a porno. Any preambles or post-hookup interviews can, worst case, be filmed on different occasions.
A far more important reason is that, when she embarked on this project, Aida and her production team decided unanimously that putting deadlines to these very personal, very intimate milestones would make them far too daunting. The poor woman didn’t want to have to fuck to a schedule.
But the final reason is the one most exciting one for me personally. And that is that Aida’s journey of self-discovery should be fluid. She couldn’t possibly know at the outset of this adventure how her tastes, her appetites, would change.
She still doesn’t know.
Every time she steps foot in the sultry confines of Alchemy, she should feel as though she has a carte blanche for whatever filth she’d like to get up to.
Everything should feel possible. And that delicious sense of possibility is what’ll make for TV magic as a national treasure explores limits she may not have been aware of before.