Page 127 of Off Limits Mogul

“Cheeky.”

She pushes the door open and walks in wearing a bathrobe and carrying a basket.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s part of the show. These”—her eyes fall to the basket that’s covered with a sheet or something—“are props.”

“Show? Props?”

“Yes, there will be entertainment and props are necessary.” She drops the basket on the floor. “No peeking.”

“Did you drink too much champagne or does this have to do with my announcement?”

“I didn’t overdo it on the bubbly, and for your information, this was planned well before you dropped the joyous news in my lap,” she says. “I know you’re getting a little antsy, but it shouldn’t be much longer. I need another five minutes to slip into my costume. Sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

“What game are you playing?” My voice is like gravel.

“Be a good sport. Play along.” Imploring eyes stare up at me. “Please, sit.”

I don’t budge.

“Rhys, you’re twice my size. It’s not like I can move you.” She approaches me. “Please, sit.”

I make a face.

“I promise, it’ll be worth your while.” She flashes me a seductive smile.

I oblige.

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

“This better be good.”

“It will be.” She singsongs her response as she waltzes out of my bedroom.

I check my watch every five seconds.

There’s a strange clicking sound coming from the ceiling speakers. She must be using the wall mounted iPhone dock in the hallway that controls the multi-room system upstairs.

A weird beeping sound fills the air.

“Oh shit, that’s way faster than I expected. False start.”

Whatever this is, she’s put a lot of thought into it.

She starts the song from the beginning.

I’m no longer a stranger to the beeping sound. Then, the brassy sound of saxophones and trumpets blare into the room.

I can’t help my smile.

Little devil.

The hit song is as iconic as the movie.

Some things never get old.

I must’ve been sixteen years old when a friend from school invited a bunch of us over to his place to show us what he had discovered on his older brother’s laptop when he was snooping around. Porn is porn, but9 1/2 Weekswill forever more be the ultimate teenage boy wet dream because, holy hell, Kim Basinger was a sex bomb in that movie.