Spanks for Watching

Jere Haken

 

Copyright 2012 Jere Haken

Smashwords Edition




"No," I say for the eleven thousandth time.  "I'm the casting director.  That's what I do, I cast.  I don't make friends with the models, and I don't get in front of the camera—ever."

"Come on, Henry," Diego pleads, giving me his best big brown puppy dog eyes.

I shut my office door in his face.  That shit used to work on me, but not anymore.  After four years of living and working together, I'm immune.

God love him, though—Diego never quits.  I know that.  I know he's out there practicing his pout, the one he'll throw at me when I finally have to show my face in the studio.  Well, he can just forget it.  I don't care how many of his bottle blond bimbos flake out on us, I'm not waving my dick around on camera.  That's what I hire others for.

I glance at the time and check my calendar.  My two o'clock, a Mr. Giorgio Swift, is already five minutes late.  I wonder if he'll show.  Sometimes they don't.  Sometimes they figure it out before the interview.  The professional ones call and cancel, but most don't bother.  I never wait on them for more than ten minutes, and I never call them a second time.

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