Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm Chapter 93 - 93

Bang!

The door to the studio was shoved open with force, releasing a sour stench of sweat into the air.

Cough, cough, cough...

The man who had entered let out a series of coughs, then surveyed the room before shouting in disbelief:

"Peter, how long has it been since you last cleaned up in here? You're almost becoming one with the mold! Are you planning to rot along with this house?"

The man was Richard Taylor, a close friend of Peter Jackson's, a talented film visual effects artist, and a native New Zealander.

"Damn it, stop bothering . I'm working on the script!" Peter Jackson yelled back, clearly annoyed.

"Forget that damn script and that vampire, Harvey Weinstein. Get out of here, take a shower, go for a walk—just don't sit here rotting like a pile of at!" Richard replied, flinging open the curtains and pushing the window wide, allowing fresh air to rush in.

Sighing in relief, Richard could finally breathe without feeling suffocated. He walked up to Peter and grabbed his fat clothes, speaking fiercely. "Let's go out, now. No more excuses!"

Peter Jackson was startled by the forcefulness of his friend, rubbing his ssy hair. "But... where are we going?"

"You can go shopping, go to the forest, go to the farm—anything, just get out of this damn stinky house!"

"Alright, alright, we'll go to the farm then," Peter reluctantly agreed.

"Good! But first, you need to shower. You sll worse than that old Boulogne cheese the French make!" Richard responded, grimacing.

(For context, Old Boulogne is considered one of the slliest cheeses in the world. A scientist once used an electronic nose designed for detecting urinary tract infections and tuberculosis to sll it, and the device registered a positive result.)

Peter Jackson sniffed his own armpits and raised his arms, puzzled. "What? Do I really sll that bad?"

Richard's face twisted in disgust. "Vomit! You sll like a corpse that's been rotting for a hundred days!"

...

Huh~ ha~!

Martin stood on the balcony of his country house, inhaling deeply and stretching his arms in delight.

"Wow, the air here is so sweet. In my hotown of Los Angeles, the air is so polluted you have to wear a mask or risk getting sick!" Martin exclaid, enjoying the fresh breeze.

Gordon, who stood beside him, also took a deep breath but looked puzzled. "The air here is indeed fresh, but is it really that exaggerated?"

"Co on, Gordon! Let's go ride!" Martin said, grinning as he jumped from the second-floor balcony without hesitation.

Gordon gasped in surprise and rushed to the railing, peering down. To his astonishnt, Martin had already landed and was standing confidently, waving up at him.

"How can you be so agile?" Gordon muttered to himself.

Feeling slightly nervous but impressed, Gordon jumped down himself, landing awkwardly in front of Martin.

"Good!" Martin praised, turning around and walking toward the stables.

Gordon, still wincing from his jump, silently cursed, realizing his knees and ankles were sore from the landing. But there was no ti to rest as Martin led the way.

In the stables, Martin selected a purebred white Arabian horse, while Gordon hesitated and chose a gentle brown filly. According to the stable's groom, the filly was more docile and easier for beginners.

"Hey, Gordon, you okay?" Martin asked, noticing Gordon's awkward struggle to mount the horse.

Gordon winced, not daring to distract himself by speaking. He had never ridden a horse before and was determined to not fall off. After much effort, he finally mounted the horse and, with Martin leading the way, the filly began to trot.

"Not bad, Gordon!" Martin shouted, now riding his Arabian horse, which took off in a flash of speed.

"Wait up, Martin! Hold on, I'm coming!" Gordon called, urging his filly to catch up, but no matter how much he kicked, the mare only trotted along slowly.

By the ti Gordon had gone a few hundred ters, Martin had already made a full circle around the racecourse. Martin had an additional pair of compound bows and arrows in hand, looking the part of a skilled hunter.

"Gordon, you're too slow!" Martin called out, now heading toward the nearby forest for a hunt. "I'll be back soon!"

Gordon kicked his filly desperately again, but the mare remained stubbornly slow. As a result, by the ti Gordon caught up with Martin, he had already disappeared into the distance.

...

"Peter! Peter, why are you staring off into space again? Relax! Since we're out here to unwind, don't think about that damn script. You need to actually relax, understand?" Richard urged, shaking his head.

"I know, I know, I'm relaxing!" Peter shot back, irritated.

"Relaxing? What are you doing, relaxing your brain?" Richard scoffed.

"No, my bladder! I'm going to pee!" Peter grumbled before running off toward a nearby river.

"Fuck! Why are you running so far away? I'm not going to peek!" Richard muttered under his breath as he switched on the small radio hanging from his belt.

The radio crackled to life, announcing a local news report: "The fire at the Auckland Zoo has been extinguished, but two African cheetahs and a Western Australian crocodile went missing during the evacuation. If anyone spots these animals, please report imdiately. They are highly aggressive and may be killed if dangerous."

"These damn exotic species!" Richard muttered to himself.

New Zealand, with its isolated geography, was known for not having dangerous predators like crocodiles, bears, wolves, or snakes. The thought of these exotic creatures escaping unsettled him even more.

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧