DISCLAIMER: This is all a work of fiction and does not reflect any real individuals or situations.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is going under a soft reboot after 8 years. My last update was in 2013 so needless to say things have changed. You can still find the original story paths if you're interested, though to be frank they aren't anything worth noting. As much as this is a celebrity fuck-fest I'm hoping to create a semblance of a plot and storyline, maybe even multiple, but we'll see how that goes.
For all the obsession with tabloids and paparazzo trying to get the next celebrity upskirt photo, they truly had no clue what the women of Los Angeles were actually getting up to in their free time. In fact if they wanted the real scoop they would have been looking in the direction of a little known business run by one Mr. Daniels. If they did they'd get a story worth more than any nipslip or public freakout could ever earn them.
The reality was that Chase Daniels, and the business he ran, was Hollywood's dirtiest, and best, kept secret.
Some would call him nothing more than a well connected prostitute or a glorified gigolo but labels like that didn't matter to him one way or another. The simple truth of it was that he was an outlet for the stars, whatever their sexual needs might be.
In fact, one could argue that working out of his small, nondescript apartment just outside of Hollywood, Chase was a key component to the celebrity machine that ran the country. When their husband or boyfriend was out of town filming on set in Monaco, it was Chase who kept them satisfied and out of the public eye. That way the average citizen was none the wiser that their favorite celebrity couple was getting cucked and everyone carried on happy and rich.
Of course a key part of the success of his business was discretion. The number one rule of sex club was that no one talked about it. A timeless but efficient rule. There were only two ways to get involved in this underground club: by invitation or by recommendation. . It was the one way Chase ran a tight ship in an otherwise degenerate crew because without discretion, they had nothing, he had nothing. And having gotten this far in his career, if going down on Jennifer Lawrence after she won the Academy Award could be called a career, Chase wasn't willing to lose it all because Karen decided to blab at the nail salon and now his operation was on the front page of ZMT.
The reality was for as much power as it might seem like he had, which wasn't much really - blackmail wasn't good for business, most of his days standard like today: inconspicuous and unassuming.
"Fuck me..." he muttered as he rolled out of bed.
Last night had been rough to say the least. Unlike most jobs in the world he didn't run on typical hours. Chase offered his services on a twenty-four seven basis. And when his client wanted to party until five in the morning who was he to tell her no?
Running a hand through his hair, Chase grabbed his phone off the side table. Like much of society his world revolved around this thing. After a few high profile celebrity leaks though he knew better than to keep anything important on it. Quickly swiping through his notifications he was somewhat relieved to see that he didn't have any requests. "Thank God. I can get some coffee" he muttered under his breath before starting his morning routine.
Chase made his way to the bathroom and after taking care of his oral hygiene and a quick shower he was ready for the day. Chase had always kept it simple, an effect of his upbringing. Despite living in the city of angels he tried his best not to get caught up in all the service level bullshit. Simple and efficient was the best way to go.
As he waited for his coffee to finish brewing his phone vibrated on the table. Well, at least he had gotten the necessities out of the way. Grabbing his phone he checked to see who his text was from; no doubt it had to be someone in need of his services.