Not one of 273 Louie Sinreich's video productions had been recognized by his peers at AVFA awards and none of his video were in the final selection of the evening, Best New Starlet.
"Fuck it." He shrugged off the rejection, satisfied that Steven Spielberg must have felt the same at the Oscars.
"Excuse me." Bob Olsen's droned from his left.
"Nothing. What were you saying?" Louie had been humoring the hippie blob by nodding his head, as if he really was listening.
"Now most of the people working on Virtual Reality are interested in the visual stimulation. Just like we were nothing, but eyes. They think that VR will be a movie we can only watch, instead of feel. You know the first VR we programmed at Livermore labs was an interactive sex dream and we used hypnotic brain wave patterns and the proper hertz levels to lower the senses' defenses. Once the Pentagon figured out I was trying to make love, not war, they pulled me off the project. For about one day, because____"
'B-b-bob." Ur Bell admonished his partner with a withering glance. "You're talking t-t-too much."
"About what?" Bob had a beer in his hand. Half the bottle was gone. He talked too much to drink too fast.
"Ur’s right." Louie was good at keeping his mouth shut. "The only good secret is the one you never tell."
Before he could continue, the emcee announced Lena de Gama as the winner for the Best New Starlet award. Everyone in the auditorium rose to their feet to applaud the young actress, as she stepped up to the podium.
"I want to thank you all for this honor. I don't know whether I deserve it, but I sure earned it and I couldn't have done it without help. I'll make it short."
Bob Olsen and Ur Bell were spellbound, while Che Chasta gazed on the young vixen, as if her heart was melting. The Johns stood with their mouths open and the rest of the audience wore expressions of desire, longing, and hope.
Louie had underestimated her sexual allure, for even he was drawn into this gathering's cult of worship and telling himself she was just another woman couldn't break her hold.
Luckily his cell phone silently vibrated against his ribs and Louie lifted it from his jacket. "So?"
"Your itch has been scratched," the ex-cop from New York informed him.
"Great." Louie had eliminated another barrier to his future and he leaned over to Che. "I want you to get her coming off the stage, so no one else can grab her."
Lena finished her speech and the crowd cheered, as if she had discovered a cure for AIDS.
The young actress curtsied with a ballerina's grace and descended from the stage to a mob of admirers.
Hands groped at her breasts, pinched her ass, and tore at her clothes. Bodies pressed closer and held off her feet. As a child she had gone swimming in a crowded pool. The lifeguard had whistled for everyone to leave the pool. She had been knocked under water by the rush. She couldn’t breathe then and was out of breath trouble now.
A hand snatched her away from the maelstrom. It was Che Chasta.
The surging throng stepped back in anticipation of the two putting on a show. They groaned with disappointment, as Che led Lena from the hall. It was time to call it a night.
Louie Sinreich was more pleased with the evening's events. All charges had been dropped against Che, the Johns were ecstatic to meet these stars, Che had Lena, and once the geeks learned that old man had been whacked, they would have to work with him.
All in all today had been as good as it gets and Louie smiled, "How sweet it is."
The truth was that it was very sweet and promised to only get sweeter.
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