At six o’clock in the morning, the camera crew knocks on my door. Imogen’s not here yet, but I’m not surprised. She’s never been a morning person. I let them in and finish packing my bag for the gym.
Roger, the guy in charge, goes over the agenda. We discuss my plans to go to the gym, breakfast, then off to a photo shoot for my number one sponsor, a watch company who mostly has me in print ads, though there’s talk about doing a commercial for the Super Bowl this year. I haven’t heard anything official from my agent yet though.
The doorbell rings and I open the door to find Imogen completely done up from head to toe. Her long hair hangs in ringlets, her makeup is on point, and she’s wearing another pantsuit with heels that makes my d**k ache.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile.
“Uh-huh.
