For one thing, Kara is fucking hot. Any brand would be lucky as hell to have her running around in their merch.
For another, drawing Kara a little closer to the operation just means that she’ll be close at hand the next time I want those pretty lips of hers wrapped around my dick.
It ain’t just that, either. Eric showed me her weight loss journey pics. As long as our cocks aren’t concerned, this girl has the willpower of a saint.
Not many people can do what she’s done, and from the looks of things, she only did it for herself. A girl like her doesn’t need to be thin to pull dick. I would have tapped that fine ass of hers regardless of what she weighed—but damn if she doesn’t look fine as fuck in those tights she’s wearing today.
If she puts her head in this, and if she really believes she can do it, then we’re fucking winners—all three of us. An international competition in the bag.
I bring my attention to the TV in Eric’s office, where we’re about to show her the Miss Sexy Universe competition. We need to give her an idea of what she’ll be doing if she accepts this gig.
The lights are dimmed, and it's just the three of us in here. I’m backed against the door, arms crossed, ready to read Kara’s reactions to the competition.
The video from last year starts playing, and all of the competitors from around the world are doing their initial walk down the runway. The contestants are fully nude, oiled, and toned. Blown-out hair, classy make-up, and stiletto heels—the works.
I start to imagine Kara’s body out there in the mix. She’d stand out in a dark room; up on stage with a bunch of other gorgeous naked women, she’d have the crowd eating out of her hand in an instant. Every contestant is the finest piece of ass in her country, but Kara has something that none of the rest of them do: personality.
She knows the confident strut of a model. She can gain the muscle. And she has that raw animal magnetism that catches the eye of every man in her path.
But Miss Sexy Universe isn’t just about looking good naked. Kara’s fucking smart, man. I don’t even think she realizes it sometimes, but she’s as sharp as the Bowie knife I keep beneath my pillow at night—just in case any of my old mob connections are looking to reconnect, of course.
I look over to Kara’s face. She’s enamored. I can see it. As they make their way downstage, it looks like the contestants are about to walk right off screen and into the office with us.
Her cunt’s getting wet just imagining she’s a part of this. Letting an entire worldwide audience study and admire her gorgeous figure, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Eric is watching her, too. He smirks as her mouth forms a soft little blowjob-ready O.
We’ve already got her. We fucking know we do. It’s just a matter of convincing her that it’s true.
“This was last year’s Miss Sexy Universe competition,” says Eric. “Women from each participating country came together for the final showdown and an international winner was chosen.”
“Oh, I know what it is,” Kara says, nodding. “It’s televised worldwide. Everyone watches it—whether they admit it or not.”
“Good. Then you know how the different phases work and what the judges expect of the competitors,” he comments. “What do you think of it all?”
“Well, it’s entertaining. And when it’s on, you can hardly force yourself to look away,” she answers. “What I’m wondering is…why are you showing it to me now? What are you two getting at?”
“You, Kara,” Eric says.
The look on Kara’s face reads as confused, but I can see the way her nipples harden beneath her sports bra when he says it. Even if she doesn’t want to accept it in her head yet—that hot little body of hers already knows what we want her to do.
“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” Kara says, crossing her arms. She plays it off as getting bitchy with us, but I think she’s realized it, too: her nipples are so fucking hard, they’re threatening to pierce the fabric of her tight little tank top.
“We want you to compete in the pageant,” Eric reveals. “We’ll sponsor you with the Protein Plus brand. We’ll train you to be a part of this. It’ll be hard work, but you’re a fucking winner. We know you’ll succeed.”
Kara laughs nervously. “You guys are hilarious. The women up there…” She glances at the screen again, where the Miss Sexy Russia contestant is squatting a huge amount of weight. The camera pans in on her pussy—dripping fucking wet. “I’m not strong like that. I mean, look at me.”
Kara holds up her arms like she’s going to flex her biceps for us. She’s right. They’re barely there—but we can fix that.
“We have been looking at you, Kara,” Eric says, coming around behind her to take her biceps in his hands.
“Been looking at you a whole fucking lot,” I agree.
“And I like that,” she says, closing her eyes as Eric’s thumbs rub up and down the lengths of her biceps. It’s like she’s holding her breath until, finally, he releases her and backs off again. “Really, I do. It’s just…”
She starts fidgeting with her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and letting it go. She does it three times?all of them unsuccessful. She’s nervous.
She’s fucking hot when she’s nervous. Makes me want to push her down on the floor and lick her cunt until she’s begging to be allowed to compete for us. But Eric says we need to do this properly. Not let our dicks get in the way.