Courts and Cabals 2 G.S. D'Moore (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖

over myself and others; which, was the test I had to pass to get the VIP passes to the porn convention. As far as Christmas presents went, what else would you expect from a succubus?

There were four passes total; one for me, one for a guest, and two for the guards I had to bring along. I wanted to bring Lilith, but she had meetings. It was the beginning of the calendar year, and apparently that meant updating various companies’ vision statements, detailing first quarter goals and expectations, going over profit and loss from the last quarter, and generally other stuff you’d learn in an MBA class that I didn’t give a shit about.

With no Lilith, my next choice was Dani. Fern looked a little disappointed she wouldn’t get out, but I gave her the day off. She could roam the resort as she saw fit, but more importantly, go on the cleaning spree I knew she’d been planning. The pixie wasn’t hard to read, and was easy to please.

Since she knew she was going to tag along, Dani put in a request for her glamour. She couldn’t go out as herself; being a wanted woman and all that. It wasn’t a big request, she just wanted to be tall and leggy for once. I smiled when I worked my magic around her that morning.

“Oh, fuck you, Cam,” she scowled in the mirror when she saw the finished product.

I’d made her look like a short Mrs. Doubtfire; gray hair going white, frumpy, and with a hooked nose filled with blackheads. If she thought she was going to get cozy with any of the male stars attending the event; think again.

“Paybacks a bitch,” I thought as I dodged the shoe she threw at me. She’d put me in a compromised position with Venus by entering the contest for a night with the boss; so, I retaliated by twat blocking her attempt to dine at the sausage fest. It was only fair.

Still, frumpy grandma Dani strode forward past the line of people waiting to get into the porn festival. A few people shot us angry looks and a few choice words, but she ignored them. I did to, but my eyes were on the vendors. There were about a dozen guys hawking merchandise like it was the bottom of the seventh at a Yankee’s game. Some of the wares were clearly NSFW, but a few were clever puns, and all had gorgeous woman on them.

My favorite was the “I’m gonna blow your mind” t-shirt. Several of the world’s most famous porn stars had the caption beneath them while their mouths assumed the proper dick-sucking position. I had to admit it was sexy, and they were selling like hot cakes at . . .

“Thirty bucks!” my jaw dropped. “Who the hell spends thirty bucks on a t-shirt?”

I was never going to get an answer as we arrived at the front of the line. Two burly dudes in black blazers inscribed with the hotel logo stood guard on either side of the door. Between them were two gorgeous ladies. My guess was aspiring models. They were tall and leggy, just like Dani’s glamour wish. They were in tight, short, black skirts, white short-sleeved button downs about two sizes too small in the chest, and black bras that highlighted their top-heavy frames. I was a guy, and even I knew you didn’t wear a black bra with a white shirt; unless you were working the front door at a porn convention. Then it totally worked.

“Passes please,” both girls had smiles plastered on their faces that I read as fake a mile away.

Some of the people they were letting in were clearly in the business and dressed like this was a sales convention. They were here to scout up-and-coming talent, offer deals, or representation opportunities. The other guys waiting – because ninety-five percent of the people in line were dudes – looked like they’d just crawled up from their parent’s basement; all pasty skin, greasy hair, and cologne that could choke out a dragon. You could tell the girls’ smiles were fake because they smiled at the basement dwellers the same as the talent scouts.

“Sir, ma’am, I’m sorry but . . .” one of the girls, with the security guard hot on her six-inch heels, started to tell us we needed to go to the back of the line.

Then they saw our passes with VIP written in big, yellow letters; and Very Important Penis written beneath it. I still got a kick out of the acronym. “Oh, I’m sorry,” the girl really turned up the wattage on her smile, and the guard said something into the communication’s gear attached to his lapel.

She accepted all four of our passes and scanned them. No one used actual tickets anymore, and four affirmative beeps told the girl and guard we were indeed important. The clearance procedure also gave them time to roll out the red carpet.

“Welcome,” a woman appeared from the shadows behind the door. “My name is Layla, and I’m here to be your personal liaison for today,” she extended her hand to me, I shook it, and instantly knew she was a vamp.

I guess in a business where sucking was one of the core functions, a vamp would feel right at home; especially a born vamp where things stayed perky and tight for a long time. However, Layla didn’t feel like talent. If anything, she was management. She still wore the white blouse, showing plenty of cleavage, and a black skirt that seemed to be the default uniform of the people working the event. I couldn’t help but zero in on her chest – so sue me – for a second longer than was socially acceptable, before glancing up to meet her eyes.

I almost kicked myself for being so stupid when they made contact, but quickly breathed out a