Date: May 1995
Location: The Polo Lounge, Beverly Hills
Actress: Demi Moore
Alexander's Status: Alexander Kaine is flush with _Braveheart_ glory, overseeing _The Matrix_ in production and _Jumanji_ in development. His media empire is expanding fast into prestige and genre, with a fearless hunger.
Actress's Status: Demi Moore is riding the high of her early '90s blockbuster hits but seeking to break out of typecasting and recapture her edgy, raw power as an actress. Hollywood's expectations weigh heavily; she's hungry for reinvention.
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The Polo Lounge's amber lighting softened the space into a warm, inviting sanctuary, yet Alexander Kaine's presence carved sharp edges through it. White hair slicked back with effortless precision, emerald eyes glinting with quiet command, he arrived like a storm contained within a tailored midnight-blue suit.
Demi Moore sat poised at their secluded table, a glass of deep red wine catching the low light. Her voice, smooth with a trace of deliberate vulnerability, broke the comfortable silence. "Braveheart swept the Oscars. I'm guessing that's been keeping you busy?" She arched an eyebrow, a teasing edge to her words, yet her gaze searched his like she wanted to gauge the man behind the headlines.
Alexander smiled, slow and knowing. "William Wallace is the start, not the summit. The real game is just beginning." He leaned forward, voice lowering, "The Matrix is mid-shoot. A world no one sees yet. When it hits, it'll change everything. And _Jumanji_? That's the wildcard. Pure family adventure with teeth."
She laughed lightly, eyes sparkling. "So you're building empires and bending reality all at once. Must be exhausting."
"Only if you lose focus," he said, watching how the faint crease between her brows softened. "You, on the other hand, you're at a crossroads, aren't you? Hollywood loves its labels, but you're not one to stay inside a box."
Demi's smile sharpened. "Exactly. After _Ghost_ and _Disclosure_, I want the roles that scare me. Not just the big paycheck. Something raw. Something real. But those parts are hard to find when you're pegged as 'that girl'."
Alexander's gaze flickered—calculated, piercing. "Risk is currency. The same one I'm betting with _The Matrix_. You've got the fire to redefine the game. You just need the right stage."
She leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur. "And you're offering that stage?"
He let the silence stretch, letting the weight of that promise settle between them. "AEG's next move needs a muse who can shatter expectations. You have the instincts. The hunger. We could make something that shocks the system."
Her fingers brushed lightly against his hand, electric but restrained. "I like the sound of that. But how do I know you don't want me just as another trophy in your collection?"
Alexander's grin was wicked, but honest. "Because I'm not collecting trophies. I'm building legacies. And legacies demand truth, chaos, and passion. If you want reinvention, I'll give you all three."
"I do have a script tell you wanna read it, and we'll leave."
he extended his arm, and she slipped her hand into his. They walked out through the velvet night toward his nearby penthouse—where the city lights blurred into stars, and whatever they dreamed next could take shape, far from prying eyes
In his villa, he showed the script of the movie that was to suppose to come a year latter.
_"Striptease"_
"I'm producing it, how do you like it?"
Demi read it, and loved it. "I love it, and I want it."
"Oh, do you think you're good for it?"
"I know I'm perfect."
Going to the music box in the office, she bent over slightly, giving him a teasing glimpse of her cleavage as she browsed the records. She selected a classic, something slow and sexy, a song that would set the perfect mood for what she had planned. As the needle dropped and the music began to play, she turned to face him, a seductive smile playing on her lips.
She started to walk towards him, her hips swaying gently to the rhythm of the music.
She described her dress as she moved, her voice low and sultry. "It's a slinky, black number," she said, her fingers tracing the neckline of the dress, "hugging my curves in all the right places." The dress was backless, dipping low to the small of her back, and the front plunge was equally daring, accentuating her assets.
The fabric shimmered slightly as she moved, catching the light and drawing his eye to every curve and line of her body.
She let the music guide her steps, her movements fluid and provocative. She sauntered towards Alexander, who was sitting comfortably on the couch, his eyes already dark with desire.
With each step, she shed an article of clothing, her movements deliberate and teasing. First, her heels clicked to the floor, then her stockings followed, rolled down slowly, revealing her smooth, toned legs inch by inch.
She turned her back to him, giving him a view of her bare back as she unzipped the dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of black fabric at her feet.
She stepped out of it, kicking it aside, leaving her in just her bra and thong, both black and lacy, matching and provocative.
She turned to face him again, her hands on her hips, a confident smile on her face. She danced for him, a private performance, her body moving in ways that left nothing to the imagination.
She ran her hands over her body, tracing her curves, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. She turned around, giving him a view of her ass, her hands running down her back, hooking her thumbs in her thong, pulling it down slowly, revealing her bare ass, her pussy.
She bent over, giving him a clear view, then stood up, turning to face him, a mischievous glint in her eye. She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra, letting it fall to the floor, her breasts spilling free, her nipples hard and begging for his touch.
When she was down to her underwear, a lacy black thong and matching bra, she straddled him, giving him a lap dance. His hands rested on her hips, his touch firm and possessive. He tried to pull her closer, but she stopped him, a playful smirk on her face.
"That's not in the script," she purred.
He smirked. "No, but are you willing?"
She turned, a mischievous glint in her eye, a smirk playing on her lips as she took in the sight of him, his chest heaving with anticipation.
Slowly, she lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his thighs. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her, the thin fabric of his pants doing little to conceal his desire.
She leaned in, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered, "You like that, don't you?" before capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue explored his mouth, dueling with his, tasting him, claiming him.
She could feel his hands on her body, roaming, exploring, but she didn't stop him, not this time. She let him touch her, let him feel her soft skin, her curves, her warmth.
She trailed kisses down his neck, her tongue flicking out to taste him, to tease him.
She nibbled on his earlobe, her breath hot in his ear as she whispered, "I want to taste you." She continued her journey south, her lips and tongue exploring every inch of his chest, his abs, his torso. She could feel his heart racing, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as she teased him, torturing him with pleasure.
She kissed his stomach, her tongue dipping into his navel, her hands already working on his belt, his zipper, his pants.
She looked up at him, her eyes locked on his, a playful smirk on her face as she slowly, deliberately, unbuttoned his pants, freeing him from his confinement.
She reached into his pants, her hand wrapping around his hard cock, stroking him gently, her touch feather-light. She could feel him pulse in her hand, his breath hitching as she explored him, learning his length, his width, his shape.
She leaned in, her tongue flicking out, tasting the pre-cum beaded at his tip. She looked up at him, her eyes never leaving his as she took him in her mouth, her lips wrapping around him tightly, her tongue swirling around his sensitive tip.
She moved slowly at first, her head bobbing up and down, her hand working in tandem with her mouth, stroking him, squeezing him, urging him on.
She could feel him hitting the back of her throat, and she relaxed, taking him deeper, her muscles adjusting to his size, her gags turning into moans of pleasure and desire.
Her head moved faster, her hand matching her pace, her mouth and hand working together to bring him to the brink of ecstasy.
She could feel him getting harder, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his hips bucking slightly, trying to meet her movements.
She moans vibrated around him, the sensation driving him wild, his hands fisting in her hair, urging her on.
She took him deeper still, her nose touching his pelvis, his cock hitting the back of her throat, her throat relaxing, taking him in, her eyes watering slightly, but she didn't stop, she didn't pull back.
She wanted to take all of him, to please him, to make him lose control. She could feel his body tensing, his cock pulsing in her mouth, and she knew he was close, so close. But she didn't want him to finish yet, not like this.
She wanted to draw this out, to tease him, to torture him with pleasure.
So, she slowed down, her movements becoming lazy, her sucks and licks gentle, soothing, calming him down, bringing him back from the brink.
She looked up at him, a smug smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she pulled back, her lips popping off his cock with a wet sound. "Not so fast," she purred, her voice hoarse from the effort. "I'm not done with you yet."
She stood up, her body pressing against his, her lips capturing his in a deep, passionate kiss, her hands already working on his shirt, his pants, wanting to feel his skin, to explore his body, to drive him wild with desire
She stood up, her body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, her cheeks flushed with desire.
She straddled him again, this time taking him inside her slowly, inch by inch, her eyes locked on his, gauging his reaction.
She lowered herself onto him, her walls stretching to accommodate him, her body trembling with anticipation.
She rode him gently, her movements sensual and deliberate, a slow grind of her hips that drove him wild.
She leaned in, her breasts pressing against his chest, her lips capturing his in a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue explored his mouth, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding against him, stirring his desire.
He moaned, his hands gripping her ass, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, urging her on. "You feel so good," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "So fucking tight."
She smiled against his lips, a smug, satisfied smile. "I know," she purred. "And I know you want more."
He growled, a low, animalistic sound that sent shivers down her spine. "You are a tease," he said, his voice hoarse with desire. "A fucking tease."
Suddenly, with a swift movement, Alexander stood up, his hands gripping her ass, holding her in the air. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.
He entered her again, this time standing, his cock driving into her with a force that stole her breath.
He fucked her hard and fast, his thrusts powerful, hitting her deep, his hips slapping against hers, the sound echoing through the room, mixing with their moans and gasps.
His grip on her ass was tight, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving marks, claiming her.
She didn't care, she loved it, loved the way he marked her, loved the way he made her feel.
Her moans were loud and whorish, echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls, a symphony of pleasure and desire. "Yes, Alexander," she screamed, her voice hoarse. "Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard."
He pounded into her, his body slapping against hers, the room filling with the sound of their lovemaking, their moans, their gasps, their whispers of encouragement and desire.
She could feel him hitting her deepest spots, her walls clenching around him, trying to keep him inside her, trying to milk him for all he was worth.
Her nails dug into his back, urging him on, leaving marks, drawing blood, but he didn't care, he loved it, loved the way she marked him, loved the way she made him feel.
He could feel her getting closer, her body tensing, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Her moans turned into screams, her screams turned into pleas. "Please, Alexander," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, don't stop. I'm so close. I'm so fucking close."
He growled, a low, primal sound, and redoubled his efforts, his hips moving faster, his thrusts deeper, his grip tighter.
He was a man possessed, a man on a mission, a man determined to make her see stars, to make her lose control, to make her beg for mercy. And she loved it, loved every second of it, loved the way he made her feel, loved the way he pushed her to the brink and beyond.