The drive out to the Hamptons felt like a victory lap. Two-Bit handled the Escalade with surgical precision while Sasha and I sat in the back, the tension of the city fading into the background, replaced by the salt-air scent of the coast.

​When the wrought-iron gates of Lana Grande's estate hissed open, it was like entering a different world. This wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of glass and limestone. As we pulled into the circular drive, I noticed the camera crew's vans tucked discreetly behind the guest house. Lana was professional—everything was already staged.

​Lana was waiting for us in the marble foyer, and she looked like a walking violation of every decency law in the state. She was the quintessential retired star, leaning into an aesthetic of pure, high-end provocation. She wore a sheer, lacy bra that looked like it was in a losing battle against the sheer volume of her artificial curves, and a V-string thong so transparent it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Through the fine mesh, the dark, groomed shadow of her pussy was a deliberate, taunting invitation.

​"Druski, in the flesh," she purred, her smile wide and predatory.

​She launched herself into a hug. The impact was visceral. Her massive, heavy breasts crashed into my chest with a soft, pneumatic force that sent a jolt straight to my gut. My heart rate spiked instantly.

​She lingered, kissing me on both cheeks, her perfume—something expensive and musky—filling my head.

​"Nice to see you too, Lana," I said, my voice dropping an octave as I felt the heat radiating off her.

​She took a beat too long to release me, her body molding against mine for an extra second before she finally stepped back and turned her attention to Sasha.

​"And of course... Miss Director," Lana said, her eyes glittering with amusement.

​Sasha didn't miss a beat, though I saw her jaw set slightly. "Word travels fast, doesn't it?" she asked, pulling out of the embrace as soon as politeness allowed.

​"In this town, darling, secrets are the only currency worth more than cash," Lana laughed, adjusting the strap of her failing bra. "Holmes told me the moment you left the studio. Congratulations on the promotion. I hope you're ready to work, because I have a legend waiting by the water who doesn't like to be kept waiting."

​Lana turned on her heel, her translucent thong disappearing into the curve of her walk. "Follow me. The crew is ready, the water is heated to 90 degrees, and the champagne is already open."

I followed her into the sprawling living room, the heels of my Italian shoes clicking against the cold marble. My eyes traced the curve of her spine, then settled on the sheer fabric of her thong.

​"Why are you dressed like you're the one on the call sheet, Lana?" I asked, a slow realization settling in. "I thought I was here to meet the new talent."

​She stopped and turned, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. "That's because I am the talent today, Druski. You're shooting with me."

​I went still, my gaze unblinking. The air in the room seemed to thicken instantly.

​"Remember that night?" she asked, her voice dropping to a sultry hum. "That 'shit' you talked about me coming out of retirement for one final masterpiece?"

​I didn't have to try hard to remember. The memory of our first night together was burned into my brain—the sweat, the heat, and the way we had used this very room while the massive oil portrait of her husband, Michael, watched from the gold-framed canvas on the wall. I looked up. He was still there, staring down with a stiff, aristocratic gaze that made my grin widen.

​"Yeah, I remember," I said, my voice low and rasping. "I just didn't think you'd actually pull the trigger."

​"Well, here we are," she whispered. She glided over to a crystal decanter and began pouring champagne into three fluted glasses, the bubbles hissing in the silence.

​Sasha, ever the professional but clearly sensing the shift in the room's gravity, stepped forward. "And the others? The rest of the list Lana sent over? Where are the models Druski is supposed to be on set with?"

​Lana handed me a glass, her fingers lingering against mine. "What's the rush, dear? Mr. Hart is scheduled to shoot with five legends for this New York launch. Consider me the fifth. The 'Goddess of Porn' stepping out of retirement to crown the new King."

​Sasha exhaled, a slow, appreciative whistle. "A comeback scene with Lana Grande? That's not just a video. That's a goddamn industry event. That's a money film if I've ever seen one."

​Lana turned back to the portrait of her husband, raising her glass to the unmoving image. "It's going to be art, Sasha. And Michael is going to have the best seat in the house."

I leaned back against the edge of a mahogany table, swirling the champagne in my glass. The weight of the moment was settling in.

​"So, this is my first official 'Milf scene," I said, a slow smirk tugging at my lips. "Well, second, if we're counting that high-octane run with Yolanda Adams. But this... this is different. When am I scheduled to run the gauntlet with the rest of the list?"

​Lana leaned in, the scent of her perfume flaring as she checked the invisible clock in her head. "I'm finalizing the logistics now. I'll send the full master schedule to both you and Sasha by tonight. We'll need to sit down and recalibrate the workflow, especially now that Sasha is the only one authorized to capture you in your element."

​"I'm ready for that conversation," Sasha added, her voice crisp and professional. She had already pulled out a digital tablet, her thumb hovering over the screen. "If we're going to market this as the 'Milf Series,' the continuity between these five films has to be flawless."

​Lana nodded, her expression shifting from playfulness to the cold, sharp business mind that had built her empire. "Exactly. Efficiency is everything when you're dealing with icons of this caliber."

​She gestured toward a sleek, glass-topped table where a series of high-resolution printouts and a tablet were laid out. "Now then, Sasha—let's get to work. I've drafted the storyboard and the script for this afternoon. I want you to go over every frame. If you have suggestions, changes, or if you want to push the aesthetic further into that 'Dark Luxury' vibe, now is the time to speak up."

​Lana looked at me, then back to Sasha, her eyes gleaming with a challenge. "I'm the talent today, but I'm also the producer. Let's see if your vision is as big as your new title."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.