Page 63 of XX Love Affair
“I do. What about it?”
“Well, here’s my issue, Whitfield. I put the kibosh on Electric Star’s offer pretty quickly. No, I’m in no position to tell her no when she can realistically do whatever she damn well pleases, but the moment she told me, I called up one of my connections in Elena Zelenko’s office and pulled a favor. Suddenly, there were financial issues with hiring more actors right now, and Helena’s offer was rescinded. She was quite unhappy, as you can imagine.”
“Jealousy, Benoist?”
“Not really. Besides, I know Zelenko runs a tight ship that crosses all Ts and dots all Is. Helena would be very well taken care of and probably even enjoy it more than the average small-town girl who turned eighteen and wants to piss off her parents. But I can’t in good conscience let my girlfriend, who is still in school on a college scholarship, put her whole face and naked body out there on the internet like that.”
“By the time she graduates, it’ll be a matter of future employers. Or she’ll be too old.”
Something Helena is way too aware of. All the more reason for Delia to intervene when her girlfriend was on the brink of making a grievous mistake. “You know I have nothing against sex work, but I don’t think Helena understands the implications this can have on her future. When I remark upon her still being fairly immature, this is the kind of thing I mean. She knows what she wants, so she goes after it.” Delia also didn’t mention that she liked that about Helena. A woman as confident as her while that young… it’s a turn-on. Delia didn’t play well with women who were always down on themselves or didn’t recognize their self-worth. She preferred to flirt with women who liked what they liked and did what they had to do to get by. Rich, poor… outside of general attraction, it was all she asked for.
“What does this have to do with me?” Mira asked.
“I know you’re always on the lookout for new Saturday night talent.” Delia referred to Mira’s almost weekly Saturday night shows on her FansOnly stream. Often, she and Blair performed together for their paying fans. Sometimes, Mira performed alone. But the few times Delia checked in (and threw a few anonymous dollars at her rival to keep her business,) there were other partners with either Mira or both women. Mira was a professional and award-winning Domme, after all. Most of her subscribers were either men or people who at least didn’t mind watching her tie up and boss around a guy for a couple of hours. It wasn’t Delia’s thing, but it also wasn’t that different from what she saw in the club on any given night.
People paid Mira to watch her flex her skills. Delia was willing to do that, too.
“I’d love to put Helena into your hands for a night,” Delia said. “I know you have ways to obscure her identity so nobody will ever know it’s her one or two years from now. Despite your best efforts, your recordings show up on download sites.”
“I’m aware.”
Delia remained silent while allowing Mira to mull over what was essentially a business offer. One borne from Delia’s desire to keep Helena happy and attached, but there would probably be money involved. At the very least, Delia had to ensure that, should Helena prove unpopular with the audience, that Mira didn’t lose much money. She’s got that mortgage to pay now. Delia knew the ins and outs. More than most people who would ever meet Mira Whitfield, the downtrodden heiress of Whitfield Manor who had done professional sex work for years to not only scrape by a living in the wake of her family’s fall but to buy back her birthright.
Delia admired that about her longest-going rival. Whatever relationship that hadn’t spawned between them the few times they fooled around in college had now grown into mutual, begrudging respect. Was Delia jealous of Mira finding Blair? Of course. Who wouldn’t be? But it had been less about Blair as a person and more about yet another woman finding lasting love before Delia Benoist.
Perhaps she should stop thinking about love, though. One damn month at a time.
“You want me to feature your girlfriend in one of my streams…” Mira crossed her legs and stared off into the distance, considering the offer. They hadn’t even discussed terms or boundaries, but Delia had a good feeling about this. “Has she mentioned me specifically?”
“No. She knows about you and Blair, though. I think she’s even seen you two perform.”
“If she gets around as much as you say, then probably. All it takes is being at the right party on the right night to see Blair’s tits on the stage.”
“And yours as well, Whitfield.”
“I’ll have to talk it over with Blair. Normally, when I work with someone else, it’s someone I only know in a professional capacity. Fellow sex workers I’ve known before her, or people who come highly recommended and know the difference between performance and real endorphins spurned by a sexual connection.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Helena falling in love with you.” Delia swallowed. “She’s hardly in love with me. She’s well aware of transactional relationships.”
“Is she like your sugar baby? We had been wondering how serious it was.”
“I only pay for things I drag her along to. Otherwise, she’s taking care of herself. We established that early on.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
Mira swirled her straw in her tea, ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass. “You’re a cute couple. She looks very comfortable with you.”
“You think so? Do I look comfortable with her?”
“As comfortable as I think you can look with any woman you’re regularly sleeping with.”
“Hmph. I love that snippy attitude of yours, Whitfield.”
“I give what I am served.”
“No wonder you’ve made such a convincing dominatrix.”