My eyes snapped open, and for a second, I thought I'd been flash-banged.
Blinding white light scorched my retinas. I groaned, rolling onto my side, expecting to feel the jagged asphalt of the studio parking lot or the crushing weight of that granite slab. Instead, my palms hit something smooth.
"What the fuck is this place?" I muttered, my voice echoing in a void that didn't seem to have walls.
It was a white-room nightmare, the kind of sensory deprivation chamber they use in movies to break spies until they forget their own names. Floor, ceiling, horizon, all of it was a sterile, infinite nothingness.
Did I actually make it to heaven? The thought was hilarious.
A guy who made his living getting paid to come on camera shouldn't be anywhere near the pearly gates.
"No," a soft, melodic voice purred from behind me. "Definitely not."
I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.
Holy shit.
I'd spent my entire career surrounded by the hottest women the unawakened world had to offer. This was a different league. She looked divine, in the most literal, terrifying sense of the word.
She had a mane of liquid white hair that fell past her waist and silver eyes that looked like they were forged from moonlight. Her mouth was a glossy, pouty invitation. The kind of lips that launched a thousand blowjob fantasies.
And she was barely wearing a goddamn thing.
Her tits—heavy, basketball-sized mounds, were draped in a scrap of white silk so thin it was practically a suggestion. I could see the dark, stubborn circles of her nipples pushing against the fabric, defiant and hard. Below a waist so slim it looked like I could snap it with one hand, her hips flared into thick, lethal curves.
She wore a transparent silk thong that did absolutely nothing to hide the dark, shadowed mound of her pussy.
My cock reacted before my brain did. It slammed against my fly, throbbing with a sudden, violent heat.
"I'm afraid you aren't in heaven, Thomas," she said, her silver eyes tracking the bulge in my pants with a faint, amused shimmer. "You really are a funny guy. A soul like yours? You wouldn't even make it past the celestial lobby."
Hell, then? It made sense. I figured the Big Man upstairs wasn't a fan of my HD cinematic contributions. But if this was the lake of fire, someone had seriously fucked up the thermostat. It was chilly in here.
"If this isn't the Good Place, and it sure as hell isn't the basement... where am I?" I managed to choke out, trying, and failing to keep my eyes on her face.
"The space between," she said, taking a step toward me. As she moved, her breasts bounced with a heavy, rhythmic sway that made my mouth go dry. "The waiting room between life and the Great Void."
I licked my lips, trying to process the madness. I was dead. Squashed by a piece of a building because some red-headed Hunter bitch couldn't be bothered to aim her monster-toss. And now I was stuck in a white void with a naked, glowing lady.
Make it make sense, I thought.
"You have questions, human," she said. The way she said 'human' made it sound like a slur and a compliment at the same time.
"Yeah, I got a few," I spat, leaning into the bravado because the alternative was screaming. "Starting with: who the fuck are you, and why am I looking at your tits instead of a pitchfork?"
She let out a low laugh. "My name is Eretria. I am a Primordial. The Goddess of Lust, Hunger, and every filthy desire you've ever entertained in that little head of yours."
I gave her an unapologetic sweep from her silver hair down to her pedicured toes. If she was the Goddess of Lust, she probably appreciated the honesty of a man staring at her tits.
"You don't look surprised, Thomas," Eretria purred, her voice vibrating in the base of my skull.
"Not really, ma'am," I said, shrugging. "I've seen enough weird shit in the slums to stop jumping at shadows. Besides, dying usually comes with some kind of paperwork. I just didn't expect the clerk to be wearing a transparent thong."
"Clearly," she smiled, that glossy mouth twitching. "I imagine you're wondering why you're standing here instead of dissolving into the Great Void?"
I didn't answer. I just kept my eyes locked on hers, letting the silence do the talking. I was a pornstar; I knew how to work a beat.
"I've been watching you, Thomas. Your entire life. You are… a fascinating creature."
"Hmph. How so?" I asked. "I'm just a guy who gets paid to grunt on camera while the rest of the world plays Dungeons and Dragons with real monsters."
"You are a man with a singular, beautiful talent," Eretria said, gliding closer until I could smell the beautiful scent is coming off her skin. "You've managed to catch my attention, and the attention of several other goddesses. When that stone crushed the life out of you, I decided I wasn't ready to stop watching."
I let out a dry laugh. "Look, I know I'm a stud, big cock, decent face, gym-rat build, but I'm not delusional. That shouldn't be enough to make a literal deity pull a 'save state' on my soul."
Eretria's smile widened, revealing teeth that were a little too perfect. "You'd be shocked what my sisters would do to keep their favorite show on the air. They love watching you, Thomas. The way you move, the way you… command the women you're with."
So that was it. I was basically a premium subscription for a bunch of horny goddesses. The thought of a bunch of divine beings gooning over my scenes back at the studio made my cock twitch hard against my zipper.
"So tell me," Eretria whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "If you were given a second chance, a reboot, if you will, what would you change? What do you desire most?"
I rubbed my chin, thinking it over. I didn't have to think long. I didn't want to be some Cape-wearing hero swinging a glowing sword at a dragon. That sounded like a lot of sweating for no payoff.
"Honestly? I wouldn't change much. I just want to get my body count as high as humanly possible," I said. "I want the record. I want to be the guy who conquered the world, one bed at a time."
Eretria actually laughed—a rich, musical sound that made her basketball-sized tits jiggle dangerously. "You are an amusing human. Most men in your position would beg for fortune, or fame, or the power to slay the beasts that killed them."
"And what the fuck do you think those men use the fortune and fame for, Goddess?" I countered. "They want the money so they can buy the pussy. They want the fame so they can attract the pussy. It all comes down to getting laid in the end. I'm just cutting out the middleman. I don't like beating around the bush—I like being in it."
She looked at me for a long beat, her silver eyes glowing with a predatory light. "You really are a rare one, Thomas."
Eretria's silver eyes flared, the pupils slitting like a cat's. "So tell me, Thomas. Do you want it? Do you want to go back to that dying rock and level up that body count until you're a god in your own right?"
I looked around the infinite, sterile white void. It was quiet. Too quiet. No smell of sex, no taste of cigarettes, no adrenaline of a looming dungeon break. Just a beautiful woman and a lot of nothing.
"Well, seeing as the Big Man didn't leave the light on for me in Heaven, and I'm not exactly vibing with the 'infinite sensory deprivation' aesthetic of this place... I don't think I have much of a choice, do I?"
"Good," she purred, her voice dropping an octave. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
I narrowed my eyes at her. I'd dealt with enough predatory agents and shady directors to know when a contract was too good to be true. "Alright, Goddess. Let's skip the foreplay. What's the catch? There's always a catch."
Eretria ignored the question, her gaze dropping to the heavy bulge straining against my pants. She stepped closer, the heat radiating off her body hitting me like a physical wave.
"To go back to Earth. To get the second chance you crave, you'll have to do me a small favor, Thomas," she said. She slowly ran her tongue over that glossy, perfect upper lip.
"What kind of favor? You want me to slay a demon? Fetch some holy relic?"
She let out a throaty laugh that made her basketball-sized tits bounce with a heavy, rhythmic weight. She reached out, her fingers, cool as ice and sharp as needles, tracing the line of my jaw before sliding down to my throat.
"I don't need a hero, Thomas. I have plenty of those," she whispered, her silver eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. "I need a professional. If you want your life back... you're going to have to fuck me."