Of course I do, I'm not a pornstar

"My booth?" I asked with a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

Just as confused as me, the 5”4 (5”7 in these heels) blonde bombshell sized me up one more time. “You’re not a—,” she paused, slightly bending at the waist as I've seen her do in so many movies before. Her eyes looked down at what was inside my loose trousers maybe I was semi erect, maybe I was completely flaccid, but the massive baby arm she felt as she brushed her hand over my trouser pocket only confused her more.

Gripping the crown of my head through my tight fitting sweatpants, Nicole could basically tell that I was easily one of a kind. Licking her lips as she made sure the two of you were looking into each other’s eyes before she said, “baby, I thought you were in the industry.” She squeezed my head once more, easily the size of a racket ball, before letting you go to point at her assistant.

“See Monique,” Ms Aniston pointed to PORNSTAR MONIQUE ALEXANDER. I looked and gasped as I saw the redheaded pornstar.

Before continuing, “she lost a bet with us last night. She's kinda handling all my business contacts for the day, or at least the ones in person.” I looked over, the even shorter Monique was swamped with fans, security were obviously only there for Nicole. There was a possible opportunity to rescue her and save her from an afternoon of dealing with actually creepy fans.

“Tell her to let you in the lounge,” Nicole kissed me on the cheek, “go and save her with these big strong muscles and maybe I’ll see you later.” She says and moved her hand and stroked my arms. I then watched as she left. But my attention needed to switch to the angry mob surrounding Nicole’s BFF Monique, lost bet or not she weighed like a hundred pounds and was being mugged by the crowd.