Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Viktoria wasn’t stacked in front, at least not from what Park had seen.; her chest was modest beneath the cream blouse tucked neatly into her skirt, enough shape there to make the blouse worth respecting without threatening regional infrastructure. Full enough that the fabric clung when she breathed.

Her waist narrowed beautifully beneath it.

Grab-able.

But her figure became considerably less modest below.

The dark skirt hugged a pair of round shaped hips and an ass that Park had already concluded could not honestly be described as average without bringing shame against the English language.

It was very round and held together and her ass packed both cheeks so tight Park could see the shape of them with the skirt dipping slightly between them; he had an entirely academic suspicion that something softer and less restrictive would let it jiggle beautifully when she walked or when she was alone and naked.

Park almost sighed.

Women in executive clothing were a criminally underregulated substance and his dick agreed.

Viktoria’s ash-brown eyes settled on him and moved down his body for perhaps a second, then returned to his face with such professional smoothness that another man might have missed it.

Park wasn’t another man.

’There we go; equal-opportunity workplace inspection.’

He approached her smiling. "Good morning, Ms. Viktoria."

"Good morning, Nathaniel."

She held out her hand... Park accepted it, turned it gently in his fingers and, instead of giving her the ordinary handshake, he bent and pressed his lips lightly against the back and held it a second longer than manners required with his thumb warm under her fingers and his mouth lingering like he was tasting whether the A&R director came with a warning label.

Viktoria’s face barely changed but her eyes did a small interruption of a tiny widening before control returned, followed by that little pucker of her lips Park had already become unreasonably fond of. She looked down at him, then at their joined hands after he straightened and, to the considerable entertainment of Park’s inner bastard, realized he still hadn’t released her.

One of the women inside the studio glanced toward them.

"You seem to be getting comfortable with the agency, I see" Viktoria said seeing how he easily did this.

Park’s thumb rested lightly beneath her fingers. "How could I not? The reception has been excellent." Meaning her.

"Has it?"

"Very welcoming." His eyes stayed in hers for another second before sliding slowly over her face, dipping lower just enough to make his meaning criminally obvious without becoming crude, then returning to those ash-brown eyes. "Beautiful too. I would feel rude not appreciating company hospitality."

Viktoria’s lips puckered.

’God, that is really cute.’

Viktoria looked down again at their hands. "Nathaniel."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning to give me my hand back today?"

Park glanced down as though he’d only just discovered the hostage situation: "I was considering extending the contract."

"With my hand?"

"The negotiations were going well so far, no?"

Viktoria just stared at him, and Park saw the tiniest flash of something warmer behind the executive composure before she finally slipped her hand from his.

"Perhaps I was seeing how long you’d embarrass yourself."

Park smiled. "Then I appreciate the generous testing period."

"You’ve been signed for 2 weeks and you’re already exhausting."

"I’ve heard that about my stamina lately." There was a beautiful, stunned silence.

The female assistant engineer bit her lower lip.

One of the producers abruptly became interested in a screen.

Sloane closed her eyes for a second... Quinn’s gaze struck Park from somewhere behind his shoulder with enough force to qualify as workplace violence while Viktoria’s thin lips parted, closed, then puckered while she processed exactly how many interpretations he had deliberately left lying on the floor between them.

Park smiled sweetly.

"Gym," he added.

"Of course," Viktoria said.

"Three hours most mornings."

"Get inside."

"Cruel woman."

She turned.

Park’s eyes went with her.

That skirt really was a hero; it stretched across both cheeks when she walked, that heavy little sway happening whether she wanted it to or not. Park watched it like a man taking notes for later crimes.

He allowed himself perhaps one second of contemplation before Quinn moved up beside him.

"You’re staring."

Park looked at her. "Look at that ass," He whispered, "Wouldn’t you?" Quinn had to admit how right he was. "Also I was following our host."

"With your eyes?"

"That is generally how vision works, my love."

Quinn’s face remained perfectly calm. "Try using them above the waist."

"Jealousy is unbecoming, Guard Queen."

"Funerals are worse."

Park blinked; he smiled slowly. "You know, you’ve developed a very attractive threatening side, like this feisty side of yours."

Quinn walked past him.

Sloane followed without comment.

Park stood there for half a second and wondered whether being attracted to women who threatened his continued existence was a personality flaw or merely efficient preparation for celebrity life.

Probably both.

Studio Five held a small team of 7 that morning, and thankfully several faces were familiar from his audition. Sloane already knew most of them through the industry, so her greetings were quick, while Park was introduced properly to the people he’d either never met or had mentally catalogued as that producer who kept staring, the composer with expensive glasses and middle-aged console guy.

Viktoria introduced the lead producer first; a tall woman nearly Quinn’s height with the easy confidence. The middle-aged man behind the huge control desk was the recording engineer, an assistant engineer sat nearby, the vocal producer was the same woman who had coached and tested Park during the audition, and another producer and composer from that day rounded out the team.

NX had 6 major recording studios across these floors, along with smaller writing rooms, vocal booths and practice spaces. Studio Five handled plenty of younger artists, new signings and people beginning their first serious recording work, which meant Park had officially reached the industry’s expensive children’s table.

He looked around the room, taking in the mixing console, couches, speakers, screens and large glass window overlooking the booth. "So this is where you keep the rookies."

The lead producer laughed. "You want Studio One already?"

"Does Studio One have better coffee?"

"No."

"Then hierarchy is a scam."

"Welcome to entertainment."

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