"Please, sir, I didn't mean to upset you," said, her voice soft and meek, a tear threatening to fall from the corner of her eye and smear the globby makeup. "Maybe if you were to let me read the contract before I sign..."
"Ha!" the director exclaimed, interrupting her pleading. "I don't think you understand, madamoiselle. Show business is a completely different world than you're used to. Maybe in your petty, little college life there is time for such formalities as the reading of contracts, but in the world of movies, there is not. Especially for little whores like you! I was trying to do you a favor, start your career. You could have been a huge star! Huge! But were you grateful? No! You questioned my motives and wasted my precious, precious time!"
Rising to her feet, her legs feeling like jelly, moved toward Pierre Baudelaire, who was standing directly in front of the closed door. "Well, then, I guess I'll be going. I wouldn't want to waste any more of your 'precious, precious time,'" she said with a hint of sarcasm.
Anger burned in the man's eyes, and he reached for her arms, gripping them tightly and pushing her backwards until her legs were up against the wooden frame of a built-in, full-size bed. He pressed the length of his body against 's and brought his face close to hers. swallowed hard.
"You're not going anywhere," Pierre said, his evil eyes staring into her fearful ones. "Whores like you need to be taught a lesson... a lesson in gratitude."
was surprised to find that the despicable man smelled pleasantly of mint and fabric softener and that the wispy strands of his dark gotee that were softly tickling her chin made her want to... she wanted to... hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was fighting desperately against the primal urge to push her hips more firmly against the hardness of his groin.
Suddenly, his lips were on hers, rough and urgent, his tongue demanding entrance to the would-be star's mouth, his hands holding her wrists tightly against her sides. |