I’m not sure whether you know this or not—hell, you may be crazy loaded for all I know—but in case you don’t know what it’s like to step into one of those fancy penthouse living rooms you usually only see in photos, well…let me just tell you that those photos do the experience no justice. And the longer you hang out there, the nicer it gets.

Right now, I’m just listening to Darcy’s melodious voice and living in a fancy real estate magazine.

“Every poor schmuck who watches your shows, I know what it’s like to be what they most want to be in life. It must drive them fucking crazy, the desire. They have no idea what it’s like—only their own dreams of it.”

I’ve never seen Darcy with posture this bad, half sitting and half reclining with his terry-cloth robe covering him loosely. He’s talking straight up at the ceiling, into his own brain. I’m not offended, but there’s a thought I can’t shake: this is where the billionaire brews.

I can sit back and watch, or: “Pasithea.”

Darcy’s not prepared to get shaken out of his own brain. I sense the sudden stop and the brakes squealing. Usually, he would fucking explode at somebody for making him put on those brakes. Of course, he’s in no position to do that with me—and now he’s intrigued.

“What was that, Lizzie? What?” Darcy is speaking slow, temping his temper down.

“Pasithea. That’s part of my email address, and my alter-ego. She’s the Greek goddess of meditation, relaxation.

“I have a different name as a Bennet Babe, and I don’t seem quite so relaxed there. But, ultimately, I like to think that’s what we bring. Fantasy, excitement, relief, a bit of peace. Fantasy is underrated for that, and vice versa. You seem to understand this.”

Darcy looks confused, which is rare for him but is funny for me. It’s like someone splashed some weird, new color of paint on his idea palette. “Yeah,” he manages. “I guess.”

“Pasithea’s also in charge of hallucinations, or dreams, I like to think. I guess Phantasos would make more sense, but he’s no fucking goddess. Anyway, any one of us Bennet Babes can personify a fantasy.”

“You do, Lizzie. That’s exactly what you do. It’s not the first time you’re hearing me say this.” Darcy’s sitting up a bit more, and putting his robe on right. We’re used to seeing each other naked by now, but the robe is the closest thing he has to a suit—and this is now a business meeting. An idea session—is that what they call it?

“Yeah, we’re good enough to become a fantasy, for a time at least. I mean, we’re not fucking any of these dudes…present company excluded. It’s fantasy by default. How can we embrace that element better?”

“What? Tell me, Lizzie. I can’t answer that.” Darcy’s gone past sitting up properly, and is now legit leaning forward. Shit, he even has his hand up to his chin. I’ve hooked this guy in good.

“Role playing. Costumes. Nothing copyrighted, of course. If someone has enough money, we could even do custom stuff, within reason. The cam format is interactive, but we don’t make the most of that.”

Darcy’s nodding. It’s not dismissive or patronizing, he’s pondering this for real. Darcy is not sold yet, though. That’s not the way he does things.

“What else, Lizzie? Keep going.”

Luckily, I do have more of them.

“Photo sets. We already have a few pro shots for each Babe, but I’m talking multiple, extensive HD sets with different outfits and scenarios. We could do those cheap, mostly with crap we have on hand.”

“Would you need to hire someone?” Woah, Darcy really is considering this stuff.

“No, Jane has pro-level knowledge and skills, plus the equipment. She even has a darkroom in the mansion, but I’m sure she’d use her digital cameras. She would love to do that, too. I think it would be fun as hell for everybody. And we could do custom sets — but we’d ask insane prices for those, obviously.”

Darcy is nodding again. “Is that your part of the market, though? Bennet Babes does something specific really well.”

“I’m not saying we should shift the focus to photos, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t do a few sets. I think our audience would respond to that. They all have favorites.

“We could put a few images from a hot set out there for free, make ‘em buy a subscription if they want to see the rest. And of course they do, they don’t want to miss out on anything.”

“Subscriptions like you have now?” By this point, Darcy is leaning forward at a nearly forty-five-degree angle.

“We have subscriptions, mostly for the archives. We typically do our own thing for shows, as you know. But we could have different tier subscriptions. Cheapest for recent archives, partial photo sets, and we can throw in more perks at more expensive levels—exclusive content, signed crap, whatever. We can produce all those things easily for a few bucks at most. Why wouldn’t we want an additional crazy income stream every month?”

I’m starting to get a little angry, since I’m so used to having these ideas shot down for the same reasons: we should “stick to what we know” and that we shouldn’t “dilute our brand.” I honestly don’t think people even listen to my ideas; they just reject them like they’re swatting a fly. Even talking about it is opening old wounds.

But Darcy looks like he’s very much still with me, though he’s leaning back a bit now.

“You have a few more, I’m assuming. Or more than a few.”

“I could go on all night. But you don’t think it dilutes the brand? I mean, all that stuff I said?”

“That’s sort of what I’m getting at, Lizzie.”

Here we fucking go again with this shit. “Okay, you would know. Goddamn it.”

“Let me finish. I don’t know if I’m any more of an expert than you. But, after hearing everything, it all sounds like it’s on-message and should only strengthen your brand. For one, would this all be on the Bennet Babes website, the same domain and everything?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” I feel like I’m wrinkling my nose a bit. “What are you getting at?”

“Are you planning to contract anything out?”

“Everything we do is in-house, even if it’s not literally in the mansion. You know that, Darcy.”

Darcy’s expression doesn’t change, but he’s nodding again, more decisive this time.

“If it stays that way, and there’s no licensing of the Bennet Babes name, then fears of brand dilution are probably unfounded.”

Fuck, I knew those criticisms were nonsense. But, why no solid commitment?

“What do you mean, ‘probably?’”

Darcy sighs, sits up with perfect posture, and makes direct, magnetic eye contact. I get an electric feeling from that as always, but this time the electricity is different. This is a business look.

“You’re talking about doing things cheaply, easily. This is most important thing: would the quality stay the same across everything you produce?”

I realize now that none of my ideas need to be done on the cheap. We’re capable of making everything we do as fucking awe-inspiring as everything else we do. I have no need to try and oversell this shit, all I need is someone who listens to me.

“Always. Always and forever.”