"I'm sorry, I may have the wrong address, but my name is Jonas Randall -" Jonas!" the man exclaimed, his face splitting into an ugly grin. "Hi, kid, I...m Daniel Parker. Heard a lot about you - seen a lot too!" Um - good, I'm glad -" I began, but he was already grabbing me by the shoulder and hustling me into the building. "Listen, Jonas, we're running a little late today and we've got to get some footage in the can or my distributors are going to rip off my cock and fuck me with it, you know?". I stepped in to a small reception area much in need of a coat of paint. There was a threadbare carpet on the floor that might, once have been green, and a desk and chair that looked like they'd been rescued from a skip with a battered computer on top. It was empty.As I wondered if I should try the only other door, it opened and a man came out. He was about my age with long, greasy hair tied in a pony-tail with a leather band. To say his face looked 'lived in' would have been kind. He was more. More

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