Porn, what else?

Matt reached for his phone once they'd gotten into the Uber but Mrs. Fellers grabbed his arm. "Oh, no. You don't get to warn them."

"But you'll want to see the books. It'll take time to--"

"To clean up, to doctor the books so it looks like everything is nice and clean. No, I don't think so."

The driver looked back at them. "Everything okay there?"

"Fine," Matt said. He wished Mrs. Fellers had agreed to pay the driver herself but she hadn't, which meant he was, once again, spending money he really couldn't afford. Not that it would matter if he couldn't persuade Mrs. Fellers to back off the charges.

To his surprise, Mrs. Fellers seemed to have forgotten about the whole porn aspect of the business and was asking him questions about branding, ways to leverage the mass streaming platforms like Chaterbate and Myfreecams with Patreon, specialty downloadable videos and even face-to-face contact at Coms and similar events. (Note: if you're the particularly generous sort and are in a financial situation to do so, you might consider supporting my stories on my Patreon page... although I suspect you'd pay not to have to see videos of me having sex.) She seemed quite aware of how the sex streaming industry worked which, once he thought about it made a certain amount of sense. After all, she wasn't stupid. She'd probably done her research before getting the Attorney General riled up.

Whether she'd stay equally calm when she saw the streaming process in action remained an open issue.

He paid the driver, maxing out his Visa card, walked around to open Mrs. Fellers's door, then walked into the abandoned department store that was their studio.

Sure enough, they were shooting porn. In this case, Betty was terrorizing a pair of football players, making them grovel on the ground with their rock-hard dicks naked.

"Oh," Mrs. Fellers said. "You didn't say you did interracial."

"It's just people," he said, waving to Tanya to come and join them. "Race is an artificial construct."

"Typical liberal bullshit."

If he told her there were dozens of academic papers proving the point, she'd accuse him of intellectual snobbism so this was a no-win. "Hey Tanya, Mrs. Fellers wanted to see the operation. Can you show here the financials?"

She looked at him funny. "She looking to invest."

Mrs. Fellers smirked. "What I can do is have all of you thrown in jail."