Mónica watched Billy's new film, a cinema outing with her colleagues—nothing out of the ordinary. Two of them were die-hard movie buffs, and they were more than welcome. The entire movie was overwhelming in its own unique way. From the rapid cuts where no one had much to say or do.
-Another beautiful woman, - she paused to admire the actress's striking image. It was, with utter conviction, one of those women who was impossible to overlook—at least for her. It was pure cinema, and everything else faded into a profound calm that she yearned to ignore from the depths of her heart.
She forgot all the epic grandeur and sweeping saga. Now she understood that the things Billy created were, in his own distinctive style, a true battle. Every detail was simply powerful, pushing everything to the absolute limit, whereas others might tally up thousands of lesser dramas by comparison.
-Looks like I'll be their Cleopatra now. - It was Monica's idea to take every film to its fullest exposure, especially when Billy was the one setting the stakes with the remake of Cleopatra. From the clever dialogue in a movie that contained violence while breathing life into a different, prodigious series about the Romans, through slow frames, quick shots, and grand close-ups—one that seized the capital, the green screen, and everything else to bring a series of images to life that would etch themselves into the culture.
Everything was a genuine struggle then, the will to create something truly magical. But now that Billy had acquired MGM, the only lingering question was whether the brand could endure long enough to produce as many works as possible, blending theatrical scenes with scenes of love—now that the true story was perfectly tailored for this kind of narrative.
-Looks like we'll be dressing in leather and black now, darling. - commented Kasren Mulder, one of the most sensual women Monica knew, a true prodigy in fashion, life philosophy, and economics—a genuine gem who could shape any man she desired, yet it was astonishing how that never held her back in the slightest.
Blonde with a classic, restrained beauty, she was a full-fledged muse, truly sought after by many but truly appreciated by few.
-Well, I think I'd love to see you in black leather, darling. - sighed Mónica, with that accent that drove the press wild—the one that was no longer accidental but rather a deliberate performance on her part, to steer any conversation straight toward her sensuality. She already had various roles lined up for the coming months, each one bolder and more potent than the last.
-God. - she whispered then, trying not to seem affected, for she realized she now held a potent idea in her hands. From the Italian woman, who gazed with her heavy-lidded eyes at every feature, poised along her slender curves.
Indecency always comes with a touch of Chanel. Anne's perfume mingled with the sweat of Billy's thrusts; she clung to him, trying to stifle her moans. It was a delight to feel how he trembled, their sweat-slicked bodies satisfying the desire that had built up over time.
From the long trips, the anger, the awkward questions, and the endless paperwork—everything dissolved into disillusionment.
That was why, when the moment arrived, Anne let her pleasures soar, indulging in all sorts of acts that were a true source of shame. Anyone would blush at the clean, sensual way she allowed herself to be led. Her breasts brushed against Billy's chest, sparking spasms that drove her to the madness she craved to escape. She could feel the pleasure building; she just needed him to thrust a little more, just a little more—but to her misfortune, Billy came first. His seed filled her completely, leaving her frozen. Using his fingers, knowing every inch of her body, he delved inside her, touching every sensitive spot, then trailed his semen-soaked fingers—mingled with her own fluids—across her tongue. She savored the taste with relish: the flavor of her and Billy, which, as she climaxed, tasted more than sweet—a hint of lust and panorama that carried her into utter delirium.
She turned her body, took Billy's cock in her mouth, and wanted another round, one final one to fill her again. She was utterly mad with desire, yet completely satisfied by the entire journey of pleasure she had experienced. She constantly masturbated in the shower, fantasizing about the next time, and she was starting to develop feelings for Billy—feelings she silenced with more sex, trapped in a vicious cycle she needed to break. For reasons of sheer necessity and self-control.
He took her from behind, and it lasted a bit longer this time; she savored every moment, from her partner's soft moans to the occasional roughness she craved, culminating in a warm embrace that filled her soul with calm and peace.
-Well, I think I'll head to my room now, - Anne commented.
Returning the routine to reality—her legs trembled slightly. It was just the routine, merely a carnal act, nothing more and nothing less: two adults seeking release, two adults who desired nothing beyond unloading with someone familiar.
-Try not to miss me, - said Anne as she left the room, while Billy let out a huge sigh. He felt guilt over the whole thing, and that guilt only made him want to make amends to Monica by caring for her and taking her wherever she wished to go.
…
He received a message from Monica, in which she informed him that she agreed with the Cleopatra script—and that was enough for her. The movie would run between two and four hours.
-So you want to do it, -Billy asked.
-Yes. -
-Good, they're two films out of three, but the last one is science fiction and there's no role that suits you perfectly—obviously, I'll only be in three, but they're really four in total," Billy commented, stumbling over his words.
The first was Cleopatra, the second was Forbidden Planet—which was for Natalie Portman, playing with all the dynamics of space operas and tradition—the third was Grand Hotel, and the fourth was The Lady from Shanghai. The Lost Planet was slated for 2002, and he wouldn't be involved. Of these, Monica would take Cleopatra and The Lady from Shanghai.
He was creating them all with a single goal in mind because he wanted to do it, and that's what he was going to do—even if people complained. He'd make so many films that everything would bend to his will, exactly as he desired.
-I think we all want that, -. whispered Mónica, who understood the seriousness of each project, which blossomed in its own form and shone in the absence of fanfare. Because each one would be a grand production, bold and beyond conventional limits.
Would you like me to adjust the tone to be more formal, casual, or emphasize certain stylistic elements in a future translation?
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