Chapter 57 – The Velvet Sleeve Launch

Ben had insisted on picking her up.

“This is a launch event, Sunshine, not a night at McDonald’s. You’re not arriving alone in a taxi.”

“I actually planned on taking the bus.”

“Don’t give me a heart attack, Sunshine.”

So at half past six, Chloe stood in front of her apartment in a tight red dress, waiting for his flashy car, which came down the street three minutes late and pulled up to the curb.

Ben leaned over and opened the passenger door from the inside.

“There you are.” His gaze slid down her body and back up again. “You look fantastic.”

“Thanks.” Chloe got in and closed the door. The car smelled of his spicy aftershave, which brought back memories that Chloe quickly suppressed.

Ben drove off. He was in a good mood, you could tell right away. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, he hummed something that sounded like a jingle, and he was quickly chatting away.

“The press is confirmed. Valley City Herald, which is a tabloid, plus two trade publications and a few bloggers. Velvet Sleeve has also invited a few influencers who will be doing their own coverage. And some fans who won a lottery or something. Lawrence is on site and takes care of the product presentation. Maven has gone over the guest list again and invited some people from the industry, you know, making some friends.” He tapped the steering wheel. “It’s going to be a good evening.”

“Sounds great,” Chloe said.

At the next traffic light, Ben put his hand on her knee, just like that, completely relaxed. His thumb stroked her thigh, just above the hem of her dress, as if his hand belonged there, as if it had always been its rightful place.

So here we are.

Chloe let it sit for two seconds. “Ben. There’s something else.”

“Hmm?” He looked at her. His hand stayed where it was.

“About the other day. In your office.” She held his gaze. “I wanted to bring it up before we go in there.”

Something changed in his face. Not much. A slight tension around his eyes, a flicker that came and went so quickly you could have missed it.

“What about it?”

“Nothing dramatic. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I want us to be on the same page.” She spoke deliberately in a matter-of-fact, businesslike tone. “I don’t want it to change the way we work together. You’re my agent. That’s the relationship that works. I don’t want you to expect that we-“

Ben withdrew his hand from her knee. He did it slowly, casually, as if he had been about to move it anyway, and placed it back on the steering wheel. Then he laughed. It was his oily, amused laugh. He almost managed to make it sound genuine.

“Sunshine. Relax.” He shook his head as if she had just said something ridiculous. “We’re adults. I’m not going to fall in love after a blowjob.”

He glanced sideways at her. “Don’t overthink it.”

And there it is, he’s trying to turn it around. Now I’m the one complicating things, and he’s the cool one.

“I’m not overthinking it, Ben. I just like to be clear in my business relationships.”

“And I appreciate that about you.” He nodded eagerly. “Really. You’re professional, I’m professional, we’re adults who know what we’re doing. No reason to make it weird.”

He sounded reasonable, understanding even, as if she had expressed an unnecessary concern and he had kindly dispelled it.

So everything was settled. He understood. No problem. Wonderful.

They turned onto Sunset Drive, and the lights of the club Velvet Sleeve had rented for the evening appeared at the end of the street. Ben parked right in front of it.

“Ready, Sunshine? This is going to be your show tonight!”

Chloe smiled.

“I’m so excited.”

Ben got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for her. As she got out, he put his hand on her butt and directed her to the entrance.

His hand stayed there. The whole time they walked across the red carpet.

It would have been too easy.

She had brought up the subject. She had made her position clear and he had listened to her with complete composure, agreed with her on everything, and changed absolutely nothing about his behavior.

This is going to take some work.

The club door opened, and muffled music and light spilled out toward them. A security guy with earplugs and a clipboard nodded at them.

Ben leaned toward her ear and said, “Showtime.”

His breath was warm on her neck.

Inside the club, Velvet Sleeve had done a thorough job. The sticky bar counters had disappeared under velvet covers in rich dark red and warm gold. Velvet curtains framed the entrance hall. The lighting was dimmed and well thought out, with amber and copper spotlights bathing everything and everyone in a flattering warm light. Lounge music pulsed softly from the speakers, which were also covered, quietly enough to allow for conversation.

And everywhere there was her.

The promo photos from the pool shoot hung as large-format prints on the walls and stood on illuminated displays between the bar tables. Chloe larger than life, posing in a red micro bikini at the edge of the pool. Chloe on the lounger, the sleeve casually in her hand. Chloe in the water, shoulders glistening, half-smiling, looking directly into the camera.

Chloe stared at the version of herself hanging in the warm light above the entrance area, and the version stared back, confident and flawless and completely unapproachable.

She looks good. Who is that again?

“Wow,” she said to Lawrence, who was standing next to her, beaming like a new father in the delivery room. “That looks really fantastic.”

“Right? The lighting concept was my idea. The agency wanted blue, but I thought a warm red would suit your brand better.”

The club was well attended. Perhaps eighty or ninety people. Industry figures, some of whom she recognized, Velvet Sleeve employees in their navy blue polo shirts, and a few guys in suits. Press, perhaps? And were those guys over there the bloggers or the fans?

People were standing at the bar with cocktails, and waitresses in short black dresses were balancing trays of champagne glasses through the crowd.

She moved through the crowd, Ben always by her side, and the crowd parted for her. Lots of hands shaking hers, smiling faces everywhere, laughter, questions, small talk. A photographer asked her to stand next to one of the displays and hold up the sleeve.

Chloe held up the sleeve, smiled and… Click!

Lawrence finally directed her to the main display at the back of the club, an elegantly lit table on which the dark red packaging was draped on black velvet, flanked by two smaller prints and a monitor showing a slideshow of product photos. A small cluster of journalists and bloggers had gathered in front of the table, cell phones and small cameras at the ready, recording devices in hand.

Chloe stepped behind the table. She picked up the box, opened it, held up the sleeve, and slowly turned it so that all the cameras could get a good angle. Then she put it back, leaned lightly on the table, and smiled at the group.

“Any questions for Chloe?”

The first question came from a woman with short hair and a press pass dangling around her neck. From Valley City Herald, the tabloid.

“Chloe, how does it feel to launch such an intimate product? It’s a step beyond normal merchandise, isn’t it?”

Thank God, that’s a softball.

“Honestly, I think it’s totally exciting,” Chloe said. “Yes, this isn’t just a poster on the wall, but that’s exactly what makes it so great, you know? It’s something that offers people a truly personal experience. And I think it’s cool that Velvet Sleeve has the quality to do it at a level that feels really premium. I’m totally behind it.”

She tapped the box. “Honestly, the packaging alone is almost worth the price.”

Laughter. The journalist nodded contentedly and took notes.

The second questioner was a guy in his late thirties with gel in his hair and a slightly creepy grin. Blog or trade magazine, hard to say. He held his cell phone in front of him like a microphone.

“Chloe, you have a huge fan base now, and I think I speak for many when I say that this product is basically the next best thing if you can’t have the pleasure in person.” He grinned wider. “What do you think it is exactly that drives men so crazy about you? What makes Chloe Hearts’ pussy so special?”

Thanks for asking, you jerk.

Chloe tilted her head and smiled as if he had paid her a compliment that was just a little off the mark.

“That’s sweet of you. The thing is the people at Velvet Sleeve do really incredible work.” She lifted the sleeve briefly. “The VelvetSkin material feels like real skin and the product is, like, insanely detailed. It’s the real deal. So if you want to know what makes Chloe Heart so special, you’re just a few bucks away from finding out.”

Next.

The third question came from a younger guy, maybe in his mid-twenties, with a recording device and a noticeable nervousness that suggested he didn’t do this often. Probably one of the bloggers.

“Hi, um, Chloe. I find this product totally fascinating, and, um, I wanted to ask… Isn’t it kind of a weird feeling? I mean, knowing that soon thousands of people out there will own a piece of you? Well, not really you, of course, but still, like… a part of you?”

He blushed slightly and seemed unsure himself whether his question was good or terrible.

The Chloe Heart smile remained on her face, but the question hit home.

Yup, thousands of people out there will soon own a piece of me. As close as it gets.

“You know what, that’s actually a good question,” Chloe said, and this time she had to think a fraction of a second longer than usual. “And the honest answer is that, yes, at first it was a strange thought. But I realized that ultimately it’s about giving fans an experience that wouldn’t otherwise be possible. So it’s more of a gift than something being taken away from me and I think it’s beautiful that Velvet Sleeve gave me the possibility to make my fans that gift.”

The blogger smiled with relief and seemed to like the answer.

I’m good. Fuck, I’m good. I’m way too good at pulling this bullshit out of my ass.

After a few more questions, Lawrence closed the press conference, Chloe thanked everyone, smiled again, blew kisses to the cameras, and stepped back from the table. Lawrence shook her hand enthusiastically and murmured something barely audible about her “fantastic answers” and “perfect brand representation,” which Chloe acknowledged with a nod and a “Thanks for organizing it all!” before he turned to the journalists to answer a few more questions himself.

She turned around and caught Ben’s gaze.

He was standing a few steps away at the bar, glass in hand, looking over at her. When their eyes met, he nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

He sees his stock rising.

Chloe nodded back, turned away, and was intercepted by a waitress with a glass of champagne, which she gratefully accepted, even though she only sipped it a little. Too much alcohol on an empty stomach at an event where she had to function was not a good idea.

Because the next hour was work.

A Velvet Sleeve manager led her to a group of distributors who shook Chloe’s hand and said things like, “We look forward to working with you,” as if she were the new regional manager and not the person whose genitals they would soon be shipping halfway around the world in packages.

Then she met a small group of industry people, producers, and directors she knew from events and shoots. Handshakes, small talk and always the same talking points ensued0. “How’s it going?” Good. “Have you tried the product yourself yet?” Haha, no, but I’m not really the target audience. “When’s your next scene coming out?” Soon, details on my social media.

She was passed around like a tray of appetizers. Every group wanted a selfie, some even an autograph, a bit of attention, and each group got a slightly different, carefully tailored version of Chloe Heart. To the distributors, she was the professional business partner, to the industry people, she was the easygoing colleague and to the three fans who had apparently won an invitation and stared at her with a mixture of awe and panic, she was the approachable, uncomplicated Chloe who was happy to meet them.

One of the fans, a slim guy with a beard, shyly asked if they could take a photo. Chloe said, “Sure!” and stood next to him. His hand landed on her waist and she felt his thumb brush lightly over the fabric of her dress, as if to make sure she was real.

But it wasn’t worth mentioning. The hands that rested a little too low or too firmly on her body in photos, the glances that wandered too far down her cleavage and the suggestive jokes that weren’t really jokes, were just a part of the job.

Don’t dwell on it for too long. Just smile and move on.

Sometime around nine, she stood alone at the bar, sipping from her third glass of champagne, none of which she had finished and let her gaze wander around the room. The crowd had thinned out a bit and had become a bit younger. Most of the press people had disappeared, the distributors were chatting among themselves, and the music had gotten a tad louder. The official part of the evening was slowly turning into a party.

Ben’s silhouette appeared briefly on the opposite side of the room, talking to a man Chloe didn’t know. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie and was clearly enjoying himself.

And then she saw Elena.