Page 45 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10

"Wait, are you actually broadcasting it?" I asked. There's no way...

"No. God, no," said Owen. "The FCC would sue us into oblivion if we did.

We just blurred it out when you guys got naked, and then cut the feed when we realized what she was doing behind the American flag.

I think they caught it fast enough so that no one at home even saw her start to give head.

We've just been showing highlights from earlier and saying we're having technical difficulties. "

Thank God.

"But #ITAblowjob has set a record for the most used hashtag over a one minute span in the history of Twitter."

"How does anyone on Twitter know about it if you cut the feed?"

"Cell phones in the audience, and some news stations around the world didn't censor it as quickly as we did.

" Owen pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through the Twitter feed for #ITAblowjob.

Most of the tweets were grainy cell phone images of Alina blowing the guy behind the flag or comments about how hot and/or how much of a slut she was, depending on if the poster was male or female.

Owen clicked the button to bring up more recent tweets, and suddenly the grainy images were replaced with HD shots of a silhouette of Alina clearly sucking a random guys dick behind the American flag.

"What the hell?" I asked. "How are people getting these images in HD?"

Owen pointed to the logo in the bottom of the images. "I think that's the logo for some sketchy news station in Croatia. They must have decided to post the official feed to their website to get five minutes of fame."

"But how are they getting that feed from your cameras?" asked Tim.

"Our contract to broadcast the ITAs in the US requires us to send all the uncut footage to other stations around the world that purchased the rights for their countries. That station in Croatia..."

I stopped listening when a gif popped up on the Twitter feed of Alina bobbing her head up and down. Fuck! This has to stop. "Owen, you have to stop this. She must be over her allotted time or something."

Owen pointed to his ear piece that he used to communicate with the producers back in New York. "I thought for sure they'd have me stop it, but they told me the official rules don't permit me to enter the stage until it's clear the performance is over."

"How the fuck does no one at the ITAs want this to stop?!" I yelled.

"I'm as shocked as you are that they haven't stopped it. But until they do, my hands are tied. If you want to stop it, maybe you could try to cut the lights or something." Owen shrugged and looked back out at stage.

I grabbed a random towel to cover up my junk as Tim and I sprinted into the hallway.

"What the hell?" asked the guard. Apparently he didn't know what was happening on stage, because if he did, my lack of pants would hardly be shocking.

"Long story," I said. "Where's the control room?"

"Why?"

"There's a uh...lighting malfunction. We need to check it out."

"Oh, okay. Down the hall to the right. Room 107."

We took off in that direction. Tim stopped me as we rounded the corner and saw there was another security guard standing outside the control room.

"Let me handle this," said Tim. "I feel like your current outfit hurts our credibility slightly."

"Okay. But hurry."

Tim calmly walked up to the security guard and said a few things. Rather than going inside, he turned around and came back to me.

"No luck," said Tim, shaking his head. "He said no one gets in without proper clearance."

"Then we only have one choice."

"Are you going to threaten to flash him?"

"Just watch." I sprinted down the hall. I didn't even bother to slow down as I approached the security guard, I just wound up and put the full momentum of my run into the punch. He hit the ground like a bag of bricks. I had knocked him out cold.

God, it felt so good to hit someone again. I wasn't sure if I had ever been this angry in my life.

"Holy shit," said Tim. He had run down the hall as soon as he saw me land the punch. "Are you trying to get us sent to Brazilian prison!?"

"No. Although going to Brazilian prison might help you realize how Alina's probably feeling right now on stage."

"They have dance competitions in Brazilian prison? Hmm...maybe I would fare better than I previously thought."

"God damn it, Tim. Just help me open this door so we can turn those lights off."

Tim grabbed the key ring off the unconscious guard's belt and started trying different keys in the lock. A second later, a bearded guy wearing headphones and a black T-shirt opened the door.

"Tommy?" said Tim. "Shit, of course it's you in here."

"I'm confused," I said. "Who's Tommy and why do you know him?"

"He's the stage manager. I've been working with him the past few days to get the lighting and sound squared away for the performance."

"Am I doing okay?" asked Tommy.

"Yeah, you're doing great," Tim said.

"Guys! Focus! We have to cut the lights."

"Why?" asked Tommy. "The crowd is loving it. Check this out." He waved us into the control room and sat down at a desk in front of 12 computer screens. Each one showed a different angle of Alina sucking cock. But now it was the guy on the opposite end of the flag.

"Fuck," I said.

"I knew she'd feel bad when the first guy said he wasn't you. Now she thinks that's you. Everything is going according to plan."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Tim?!"

"Actually, I'm glad you guys came," said Tommy, totally ignoring me.

"I was having trouble deciding which view to put up on the jumbotron.

"We have the classic side view which is pretty awesome, but I also positioned the sky cam to get a perfect overhead view of him ramming his cock in her mouth.

And then of course we could always go for the face shot.

Man, you can just tell she's loving it by the faces she's making.

I was thinking about doing a split screen. .."

"Tommy, cut the god damn lights."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I felt like I was doing a decent job with the lighting.

That reminds me, I was toying with this awesome idea.

I have some backup fireworks from Russia's performance that I was thinking would be awesome to sync up if he gives her a cumshot to the face, like a grand finale sort of deal. "

"God damn it! That's my girlfriend up there. Cut the fucking lights!"

"Wow," Tim said. "I didn't realize you two were at that level. Congrats, man. Geez, if I had known, I would have asked you if it was okay for those guys to do that."

Seriously? I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

If I had just asked Alina to be my girlfriend would she be out on that stage right now with those guys?

I was trying not to rush her. She had just broken up with Chris.

All I wanted was for her to be my girlfriend.

I really liked her. Fuck, I more than liked her.

If I didn't, I wouldn't be feeling the way I was right now.

Like I wanted to kill everyone that was touching her.

I knew I didn't want to be her rebound. But if I had known that this catastrophe would be the rebound she needed, I would have fucked her days ago to prevent this.

I felt like I was going to be sick. This had to end now. "Cut the fucking lights," I said again, more forcefully. I took a step toward Tommy.

Tommy put his hands up. "Chill out, man. I'm just trying to do my job here."

"I don't care what the fuck you're trying to do, because if you don't cut the lights in five seconds..."

"Okay, okay. I don't have access to the safety lighting in the auditorium, but I can blink the lights on stage if you want.

You know, like how they do at the theater to tell people to take their seats.

Or like the music at the Oscars when someone is rambling for way too long in their speech.

That would probably give them the signal to wrap it up. "

"Do it," I demanded. "And tell me where I can go to turn the lights off for real."

Tommy started hitting buttons just as the two assholes that were pretending to be me dropped the flag, showing the whole world Alina on her knees with a cock in her mouth. Camera lights immediately started flashing in the crowd right before the stage went black.