The phrase echoed in the back of my mind like a catchy, albeit slightly chaotic, tabloid headline: "Before seeing his girlfriend, I suck his an... lifestyle and entertainment."
It was the kind of fragmented, high-stakes sentence that only someone in Julian’s world could utter. Julian wasn't just a client; he was a brand. And I was the one who made sure that brand didn't have a single hair out of place. Before seeing his girlfriend I suck his dick an...
He turned, a dry smirk playing on his lips. "The real me? That’s an entertaining thought." The phrase echoed in the back of my
By the time the elevator dinged, Julian was a masterpiece of manufactured reality. He adjusted his cufflinks, stepped into the hallway, and shifted instantly into 'boyfriend' mode. "Go get 'em," I whispered, closing my laptop. And I was the one who made sure
We were in a penthouse suite in Milan, the air thick with the scent of expensive espresso and the ozone of a looming thunderstorm. In thirty minutes, Julian had to walk downstairs to meet Elena—the face of a rival fashion house and, conveniently, his girlfriend for the cameras.
I spent the next twenty minutes 'sucking' every bit of authentic data out of his day—the nerves he hid, the books he actually read, the way he preferred street food to the Michelin stars Elena loved. I was harvesting his life, refining it into a narrative that would sell.
"I've got it," I said, flipping through the itinerary. "But before you see her, we have to finalize the 'Lifestyle and Entertainment' pitch for the streaming network. They want the 'real' you, Julian. Not the curated version."