Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 05

The back wall consisted of a single pane of glass similar to her office, the afternoon LA skyline visible; however, whereas her view overlooked the city, this view was even more magnificent, overlooking the western skyline and ocean providing a spectacular vista. Due to the afternoon sun starting to shine in the room, deep wooden slatted shutters were partially down, also casting the room in a soft light.

The left-hand side of the room was decorated reminiscent of an English Tudor home—two large-backed leather chairs angled towards a large marbled fireplace. Above the mantel were eight portraits of women in various sexy poses. Jen did a double take as she realized the top left image being a much younger Elsie, and then immediately noticed an image of herself in the lower right image, realizing these were the company's DSA Spokesmodels.

To her astonishment the photograph of her was an older picture, before even Willie had owned the bar, the picture framing fitting in with the others as if they had all been placed at the same time. Jen wondered how long Mr. DeWight had been watching her, a deep fear running through her at the revelation.

The right side of the room contained a small sitting area with a large beige suede divan with matching cushions sitting between two leather executive chairs.

As plush and opulent as the office was, it was the man sitting behind the large dark wood executive desk that captured her attention, her heart pounding within her chest at the sight of Mr. DeWight.

Why he always had such an effect on her she did not know—whether it was her awareness of the pure evil he was capable of, his domination of her life, having fucked her at the club, or even knowing how he had terrorized Dan all these years—but she felt helpless around him, like a fly trapped within a spider's web.

He stood up as she entered, wearing a dark grey pinstriped suit that made him look like an impeccable businessman, not the organized crime lord he truly was.

"Diamond, right on time," he said walking to her and instead of shaking her hand like the CEO would normally do to a business executive, put his hand around her bare waist, leading her to one of the leather executive chairs in front of his desk.

His hand was warm upon her skin and Jen felt an immediate flush throughout her body in reaction to his touch, her mouth getting dry as she wondered how she had gotten into this predicament.

"You look fabulous," Mr. DeWight told her as she sat down on the chair, the soft leather softly rubbing against the bare skin of her ass and sending goose bumps over her as she thanked him for the compliment.

"I was going over the proofs of your photo-shoots and I have to tell you, I am utterly and completely spellbound," he told her, looking intently at her, his gaze giving her chills. "I have never seen such quality photos and modeling in all my years, even from pro's who had been doing this forever. You've done an outstanding job!" he again complimented her.

Jen once again thanked him, telling him it was nothing as he went on with his praise.

"Nothing my ass," he told her in answer. "I had originally planned on making these photos free to the public as a publicity stunt to get you known, but after looking at them they are going on our Premium site immediately! Even counting the leeches who will repost them in private forums and whatnot we're going to rake in thousands," he told her happily as she again thanked him.

"And this last set," he paused, looking at her, or more at her body she realized, "fucking-A. Melissa told me how you could not get a believable expression on your face and how you willingly gave Sean the go-ahead to make things real with that monster of his!" he said happily.

Although events had not happened exactly as he described, she was too ashamed to correct him.

"I had thought to slowly bring you into the fold so-to-speak," he told her with a wink. "Granted, it would have taken longer, but eventually I would have broken down any resistance you had until you were spreading your legs at the snap of my finger," the man laughed, surprising Jen with his candor. "But looking at these pictures and how you took control of the photo set, you are definitely ready for the big leagues. I'm going to give the green light on all your coming productions," he told her happily.

Jen did not know what he meant, but had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach at the implication of his words. His abruptness also surprised her, and she understood with her role bound legally by the contract, he no longer had to play mind games and such to have her do his bidding.

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. DeWight pulled out a piece of paper from his desk drawer which he slid over to Jen. "This is your bonus for this week," he said, as Jen reactively reached for the offered piece of paper. "From the pictures and film footage Melissa has already shown me, as well as tomorrow's shoot—even if it's only half the quality of these—we will make more than any projected profit," he told her. "I'm very proud of you dear," he smiled genuinely at her.

Jen felt nauseated at the man's praise, knowing it was only good as long as she complied with his will and made a profit for the company. Absently she looked down at the paper in her hands and suddenly her eyes opened wide.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" she exclaimed. "There must be some mistake," she told the smiling man across from her.

"Bullshit," he told her. "As I said, we'll make at least six times that amount in revenue by the time everything is said and done—and that's AFTER we pay for the time and equipment and everybody involved. Also, once these images are published the future investments that will line up from seeing these images will draw all the hounds out. These pictures prove my investment in you is legitimate and investors will be willing to spend ungodly amounts of money on you and your productions," he told her happily.

She protested more about the amount of the check—literally half a year's salary for her and Dan, but Mr. DeWight would not change his mind, continuing to tell her it was a far cry from what the company would be making. He even went so far as confessing the check probably underestimated her profits—which he would compensate once everything went into production—but had wanted to give her something in good faith for the short-term, as a sign of his appreciation for her outstanding job this week.

Jen could not believe pictures of her would be worth that much profit. Granted she had been impressed with the quality and sensuality of the photographs, but the bottom line was they were pornography, and she did not understand how they could be worth so much money.

But she also knew how successful Mr. DeWight was in this industry. If he believed the photo sets were worth that much profit, she could not dispute him.

"Now, on to other things," he told her, abruptly changing the subject. "I don't know what you did for Larry but after talking to him today, I have never seen a man more anxious to drive anybody around. He has even asked to become your full-time driver—not just in LA, but anywhere you travel," he said both surprised and obviously pleased. "Did you end up fucking him?" he asked blatantly.

"No!" Jen exclaimed in shock. "I...I...well," she stammered, trying to explain her newest morning ritual of dressing in front of the man. "I've been getting dressed in the car instead of the hotel room, like you asked," she said embarrassed, further explaining how she had been wearing the hotel robe down to the car each morning and changing in the limo.

Mr. DeWight burst out laughing, causing her whole body to redden in embarrassment. "Well, it definitely worked," he said with a chuckle. "I guess I need to buy you some robes in the future," he told her with a grin. "Hotels charge an arm and a leg for those damn things," he smiled at her, not upset, but clearly amused.

She was about to apologize for using the robes but he raised his hand, cutting her off as he continued. "I've also talked with the folks at HR, PR, and the DR," he chuckled at his own little joke. "Dr. Fairchild was especially complimentary, saying you are in top condition for anything I throw at you," he said with a lecherous grin as Jen wondered what else the doctor had told him. "And everybody else I've talked to all said you seemed to take what they said to heart," he told her again with a pleased expression. "I have to agree after hearing the general water cooler talk and how well your photo-shoots turned out," he told her with a smile.

"So I have only a few more things to discuss," he said, once more changing the topic as he looked at her. "First, on a more sociable aspect. Being new to the city and all, how have you been?" he asked her amicably, as if they were at a social event and not boss and employee. "Have you done any touring or bumming around," he asked her honestly.

Jen laughed and seeing the confused expression, told him she had been at the office every day until the early evenings, not getting back to the hotel until around eight o'clock, where she ate, maybe watched some television, and went to bed.

"I'm not used to getting up so early in the morning," she told him in explanation, "so I'm dragging by the end of the day," she answered.

"You haven't even gone out to see the LA nightlife?" he asked as he looked at his computer, half his attention drawn to it instead of her.

"Well no, as I said I haven't had much time. Although I am going out tonight with Velvet and Sean from the photo-shoot," she said. Suddenly Mr. DeWight's attention was once again fully directed towards her as he raised an eyebrow at her. She immediately thought how it sounded going out with one man as she quickly added, "As well as Melissa's assistant Christopher," she said.

"Really?" Mr. DeWight said with interest, looking at her as if lost in thought. "Is it a double date?" he asked.

Jen suddenly felt uncomfortable. Although the question was honest enough, the way Mr. DeWight looked at her body, more as a physical object than a person, gave her an uneasy feeling as she answered, "No, they said they were going out with some friends and invited Velvet and myself along," she told him.

Mr. DeWight did not say anything else, instead turning back to his computer and typing something before turning his attention back to her.

"And your clothes," he asked, once again taking Jen off guard with the change of subject, "have they all fit?"

Jen noted he did not ask if she liked the clothes or if they were too risqué, merely asking about their fit, as she answered, telling him they all fitted fine.

"I love that outfit you have on now by-the-way," he told her. "I provided your measurements and some pictures of you to some of the companies who invest with us and they provided enough clothing you could probably wear a new outfit every day of the year and never repeat," he chuckled. "A free wardrobe is one of the perks of your job," he smiled at her, his expression causing her body to flush as he stared at her.

Looking back at his computer screen, he told once again changed the subject stating, "I wanted to talk about your schedule for the next week," he told her, as Jen began to feel anxiety, wondering what was planned.

"First thing is tomorrow night's party," he said. "Have you planned a set yet?" he asked looking at Jen intently as if imagining her naked already.

She had completely forgotten about his request earlier in the week about putting together a dance set, her week a whirlwind of activity. She admitted to him she had not thought about it, quickly telling him she often adlibbed her routines, letting the music dictate how she danced.

Mr. DeWight told her if that was what she normally did it was fine, telling her, "I've never had any complaints about your sets, and if they are adlibbed, all the better; however, I do want you to choreograph some set routines," he said to her. "Mainly for your tour, I want you to do pretty much the same routine. Although you can improvise it a bit, the goal I am expecting is to tease everybody visiting the clubs to see the 'new girl' and wanting to see more. If you keep the tour consistent the next one you do will have people flocking to see something different. Also, you should not let your fan base feel 'left out' if you perform differently between one club and the next," he told her.

Jen was not certain how much of a 'fan base' she had, or how perverted it would be, but nodded her head. She had only danced at once club, and in that environment you WANTED to dance differently each night in order for your 'fan base' as Mr. DeWight called it, always seeing something new and exotic. Since dancing from club to club was something new to her, it made sense to keep things consistent, particularly when the clubs were hundreds of miles apart.

"So for tomorrow night," he told her, breaking her thoughts, "improvising is fine; however, over the next two weeks I want you to come up with a standard routine for your tour," he communicated to her.

Jen asked about the set Friday night as he told her, "You only need to do one set, but I want it SEXY," he said sternly. "Tomorrow night your performance is aimed to tease potential investors who will be present at your syndication party. In order for people to attend that," he explained, "they need to get a preview of how you dance, look, and ultimately seduce them. I am demanding they put down a five thousand dollar donation in good faith for them to attend your syndication party, so you need to make them WANT to pay that amount and leave them wanting to see more," he said to her.

"Five thousand?" Jen said in surprise. To her and Dan, five thousand dollars could be a month's dancing in combination with Dan's salary, and to discover people would pay that amount PER PERSON to see her dance was shocking.

"Yes, your performance tomorrow needs to have them want them to pay to see more. Tomorrow they need to see not just Diamond the stripper, but the entire package of Diamond the DSA Spokesmodel. If you fuck up and we don't get any interest, a crack whore will have more notoriety than you," he threatened, his voice suddenly becoming stern.

Jen looked up at him in shock at the sudden change in demeanor as he told her, "I can make you disappear so far into a hole in this world even you would not know where you were," he said solemnly.

Jen saw the look in his eye and suddenly felt afraid, in fact terrified. It was at this precise moment she understood him to be the man the FBI said he was—a cold-hearted, ruthless killer.

Silently nodding, Mr. DeWight smiled, his attitude and expression changing so quickly it was as if he had flipped a switch, going from threatening her life as a sociopath to the kind employer talking to her about the weather.

"Good!" he said obviously pleased. "I'm sure you'll do fine, remember how you performed the last couple nights at the club and you'll be fine," he said to her with a shameless leer, his gaze once again looking at her body as an object to be used.

Jen barely noticed his look upon her, instead thinking about how she had humiliated and degraded herself to the crowds he had mentioned, letting men touch her in the most intimate of ways. Even worse, she had let it happen while Dan had watched.

She felt disgraced and mortified at what she was becoming. In an effort to not wallow more in her shame, she asked, "What is a syndication party?"

Mr. DeWight smiled. "I was just getting to that," he told her, "so excellent segue. You know anything about horseracing?" he asked her abruptly, his question completely out-of-the-blue and unexpected.

Jen shook her head as he continued.

"Horses are expensive creatures, particularly the top racers. A lot of farms do not have the money or means to afford maintaining a horse earning millions and millions of dollars not only in races, but in breeding," he told her.

Jen had no idea where Mr. DeWight was going with his soliloquy, but the mention of breeding set off alarms through her soul as she listened in order to get an idea of what he was talking about.

"In order to pay the costs of the horse—boarding, transportation, advertisements and whatnot—the horse is syndicated," he told her, as Jen began to understand she was the horse. "Various interested parties 'buy in' to the horse, sort of like owning stock," he said with a smile, "and proceeds from the winnings by the horse are split amongst the investors based upon how much they invested. It's the same theory with syndication on television—a show is bought by multiple channels and the proceeds are earned by those channels through the commercials they sell as well as the original stakeholder or creator of the show," he explained.

"I learned long ago money invested in a DSA Spokesmodel could run out, so came up with the idea of syndicating the model. Tomorrow night you will perform your set demonstrating your erotic and sensual skills," he grinned lecherously as his eyes focused upon her tits and crotch, "Those willing to invest in your career will eagerly pay the entry fee for next week. At that party you will do a much more intimate performance," he grinned, "and at that time, you will convince the interested parties to bid on how much they will ultimately invest in you. The money gleaned from the initial syndication party will cover everything from advertising, production costs, distribution costs, and even pay your salary. Costs of travel, room and board, your chauffer and assistant, photographers, whatever need to be covered up front," he told her, "and not wait until after everything hits the public. DSA will match everything invested, or more if there is not enough people willing to invest—although I do not expect that from you after seeing your first photo-shoots," he grinned. "Anyways, it is a decent way to double the amount of money available up front for your career, allowing us to earn sit back and still earn most of the profit, while the investors make out as well," he told her. "Understand?" he asked.

What Jen understood was she would basically be auctioned off like a piece of meat. Although Mr. DeWight's description sounded harmless enough, she knew the man was rotten to the core of his soul. Something bad would come out of all of this she knew, but could only slowly nod, understanding the concept, yet filled with apprehension at its execution.

"Good," Mr. DeWight said. Whether Jen understood his explanation, like it or not she was at his bidding, noting she had not been asked for her opinion, just being told what she would be doing as her boss continued. "What I want you to do this week is come up with several themed routines—school girl, business woman, whatever you want, it's your call. I want a few of the performances to be you dancing with other girls so tomorrow spend some time going through the personnel records—there are videos of each girl within the company performing so select a couple you can work with to do sets with you on the stage. You will still be the main performer, but I would like some back-up as well," he told her.

Jen had already arranged and practiced similar group sets with Mary and Denise, the three of them putting together several dance routines they planned to do sometime in the future. They had held off due to the older stage not being large enough, but now that the new stage at the Satin Kitty had three poles they had again talked about it.

"I already have some people in mind," she told him, explaining her thoughts.

"That's excellent!" Mr. DeWight said proudly once she told him she had already choreographed some sets with the girls. "Kitten and Crystal are perfect for the party," he told her, obviously pleased. "It also means you will not have to work with anybody you don't know," he said, as if he cared about how comfortable she felt.