“Ah, the starlet I presume?” A man of about sixty stood in the doorway with a grin. He appeared at first to be more fatherly than the letch she’d heard him described. Instantly feeling foolish for allowing herself to jump to such morbid conclusions, she extended her hand.
“Veronica Carrole, I’m pleased to meet you sir,” she said, smiling as he shook her hand with a limp shake.
“Yes, I’ve been expecting you. Come in dear, come in.” He moved to one side and indicated for her to enter with a sweep of his hand.
The office was modestly furnished, and she took a chair in front of the desk placed before a large window that overlooked the street below. To one side of the room sat a large, overstuffed couch and several chairs, and next to the couch stood a table where an ice bucket was perched with a bottle of wine protruding from the top. Beside the bucket were two long stemmed glasses. On the coffee table in front of the couch was an ashtray sporting a pipe, from which spiraled a thin, pungent, thread of smoke. It was obvious he intended for her to sit either on the couch, or in one of the overstuffed chairs.
“Come on over here young lady,” Julian said, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion beside him.
“I like to get to know my new charges before we start their first big picture.” He smiled, this time it didn’t appear so fatherly.
Veronica stood and moved to one of the overstuffed chairs facing him.
“No, my dear, that won’t do at all!” He laughed, patting the cushion again.
“Come over here so we can get to know one another better.”
He reached across the space between them and placed his hand on her knee and she winced. His hand was hot and clammy as he slowly and suggestively moved it toward her thigh before removing it to pick up his pipe. He took a long, deliberate drag, leaned back into the cushions of the couch, and allowed the sweetly scented smoke to weave its way from his mouth like a serpent.
“Over here,” he indicated to the couch beside him with the nod of his head while taking another long puff of the pipe.
“If you don’t like wine, I have plenty of other things you can try; roll your own, smoke, snort, or even swallow.”
A sense of disgust crept into her mind before anger replaced it. She stood and wrung her hands, “No thank you sir, I neither drink, smoke, nor swallow anything repugnant.”
She quickly made her way toward the door, but Julian was between her and the door before she realized it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to push her toward the couch, but she managed to break free and step back.
“Come on, sweetheart, you must know the drill. Every young starlet sleeps her way to the top, so what makes you think you’re any different?”
“My morals,” she hissed, shooting him an angry glance.
“Morals my ass!” He narrowed his eyes and licked his plump lips.
“Look, Mr. Secorski, I have no intention of sleeping my way anywhere, much less to the top. I think you have me figured all wrong.”
“Not if you want the part you’re vying for, I don’t. Just consider this a training session.” A sneer came with the words as he reached for her again, grasping her hard and pulling her toward him to press his wet, parted lips onto hers, painfully bruising her mouth.
Veronica felt as though she might suffocate as he moved his lips brutally against hers, probing her mouth with his tongue and pressing the swollen bulge between his legs forcefully against her. She felt revolted and suddenly sick to her stomach as she vehemently brought her knee up between his legs.
In an instant the portly man groaned and crumpled, his eyes bulging as he grasped his genitals, swearing at her.
