Tags: R-18, Threesome, Yuri (?), Anal (?).
The salty breeze from the Pacific rolled in through the open windows of the cliffside mansion at Dume Point Park, carrying the faint crash of waves far below. Janet's heels clicked across the polished marble as she pushed through the front doors without knocking, dragging Katherine behind her by the hand. Katherine's fingers trembled in Janet's grip, her wide eyes darting around, cheeks flushed with a mix of nerves and anticipation.
"Janet, we can't just—" Katherine started, voice barely above a whisper.
"We already did," Janet cut in, grinning wickedly. She was all confidence—dark hair loose and wild from the flight, tight dress hugging every curve. She scanned the open living area until her gaze locked on him.
Simon stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, phone in hand, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the hard planes of his chest. He turned at the sound of their entrance, and the moment he saw them, his brows shot up in genuine shock.
"Janet—Katherine. what the hell?" He took a step forward, phone forgotten. "You're supposed to be on the East Coast."
Janet didn't answer with words. She closed the distance in three strides, grabbed his face, and crushed her mouth to his. Their lips parted, tongues sliding together, breath mingling hot and urgent.
Between kisses, he managed, "Why are you here?"
Janet smiled against his mouth. "Saw the movie last night," she murmured, nipping his lower lip. "Little bastard. I missed you too much."
Simon groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. The kiss deepened, turning filthy—teeth and tongue and shared breath. His hands slid down to grip Janet's ass, then reached out blindly to pull Katherine closer. Katherine made a soft, protesting sound, her small fists tapping lightly against his chest, more token resistance than real fight.
Simon broke the kiss just long enough to look at her. "Hey, Kath," he said, voice low and rough. "Missed you too."
Katherine's cheeks burned crimson. "Simon…"
Janet laughed softly. "Look at her, pretending she doesn't want this."
Simon's eyes darkened. Without another word, he took both their hands—one confident grip on Janet, one gentler on Katherine—and led them up the sweeping staircase to the main bedroom. The room was massive, dominated by a king-sized bed dressed in white linens so soft they looked like clouds. Ocean light poured in through panoramic windows, gilding everything in gold.
He released their hands at the foot of the bed, then, with effortless strength, scooped them both up—Janet first, then Katherine—and tossed them onto the mattress. They landed with twin gasps, bouncing lightly on the plush surface.
Simon stood at the edge, staring down at them with raw hunger. Slowly, deliberately, he started undressing. Shirt buttons popped open one by one, revealing the sculpted perfection of his torso—broad shoulders, defined abs, the deep V that disappeared into his pants. He let the shirt fall, then unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal loud in the quiet room. Pants and boxer briefs followed, kicked aside.
He was fully hard, thick and long, standing proud against his stomach. Janet's gaze raked over him like she was starving, lips parted, eyes predatory. Katherine stared wide-eyed, thighs pressing together, her breath coming in shallow pants, pupils blown with arousal.
"God, look at you," Janet purred, licking her lips.
Simon crawled onto the bed, moving first to Janet. He cupped her face and claimed her mouth again, deeper this time—sucking her tongue into his mouth, biting gently, making her moan. His hands slid down to palm her breasts through her dress, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked hard against the fabric.
Janet broke the kiss just enough to turn her head toward Katherine, who was watching with flushed cheeks and parted lips.
"Take care of Katherine first," Janet said breathlessly.
Katherine whimpered. "No… I…"
Janet grinned. "Liar. You're soaked already, aren't you, Kath?"
Simon's gaze flicked to Katherine. He shifted over, gentle but firm, and cupped her cheek. "Is that true, Katherine?"
Katherine's protest died on her lips as Simon kissed her—slow, coaxing, coaxing the shyness out of her. His tongue slid against hers, tasting her nervousness and turning it into something molten. His hand slipped under her skirt, fingers brushing the damp lace of her panties.
"Soaked," he confirmed, voice rough.
He pushed her skirt up to her waist, hooked his fingers in her panties, and dragged them down her legs. Katherine's thighs trembled as he spread them wide, exposing her glistening pussy to the cool air. Janet watched, eyes hooded, one hand already sliding beneath her own dress to circle her clit.
Simon started slow—two fingers sliding into Katherine's slick heat, curling just right to make her back arch off the bed. She cried out softly, hips bucking. He pumped slowly, thumb brushing her clit in tight circles, watching her face the entire time.
"Good girl," he murmured.
Then he lowered his head. His mouth found hers again briefly before trailing down—kissing her jaw, her throat, the swell of her breasts through her top. He pushed the fabric up, latched onto a nipple, sucking hard while his fingers kept working her pussy. Katherine writhed, hands fisting the sheets.
Finally, he moved lower. He settled between her thighs, spread her open with his thumbs, and dragged his tongue up her slit in one slow, filthy lick. Katherine keened. He devoured her—tongue plunging inside, then flicking her clit, sucking it between his lips until she was shaking. Janet watched, fingering herself faster, breath hitching at every wet sound Simon made.
He didn't let up until Katherine was right on the edge, thighs clamping around his head. Then he rose up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and lined his cock up with her entrance.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
Katherine's eyes fluttered open, glassy with need. He pushed in—slow, relentless—stretching her inch by inch. She was tight, clenching around him, and he groaned at the feel of her.
"Fuck, Katherine… so perfect."
He started slow, deep rolls of his hips that had her gasping with every thrust. Then he pulled her legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, and pounded harder. The bed creaked beneath them. Katherine's moans turned into broken cries.
Janet crawled closer, leaning in to kiss Katherine deeply while Simon fucked her. Their tongues tangled, Katherine tasting herself on Janet's lips. Janet's hand slipped between Katherine's cheeks, a slick finger circling her ass before pressing inside.
Katherine jolted, muffled a scream into Janet's mouth. The dual penetration—Simon's cock in her pussy, Janet's finger in her ass sent her spiraling. She came hard, walls fluttering around Simon, back bowing off the bed.
Simon didn't stop. He flipped her onto her hands and knees, entered her from behind in one smooth thrust. Doggy style now—his hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with every brutal snap of his hips. Katherine's arms gave out; she buried her face in the pillows, muffled moans spilling out.
Janet lay beneath her partly, kissing her dangling breasts, then slid up to capture her mouth again. Another finger joined the first in Katherine's ass, scissoring gently, stretching her as Simon fucked her senseless.
He shifted again—pulling out only long enough to flip her onto her back. Missionary now, intimate and deep. He hooked her legs high, pounded into her with long, punishing strokes. Janet kept kissing her, Simon's thrusts until Katherine came a second time, harder than the first, squirting messily around Simon's cock.
Simon pulled out at the last second, stroking himself as he watched her tremble through the aftershocks. Katherine collapsed, boneless, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dazed.
Janet didn't give him time to recover. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyes gleaming with predatory intent.
"My turn," she growled.
She gathered her long hair in one hand and offered it to him. Simon understood instantly—he wrapped her hair around his fist like reins, yanking her head back as she sank down onto his cock. She took every inch in one smooth drop, moaning loudly.
But she had other plans first. She slid off, crawled forward, and took him in her mouth. Simon tightened his grip on her makeshift ponytail and guided her down hard. He fucked her throat in deep, relentless thrusts, balls slapping her chin, saliva dripping down her neck. Janet gagged, eyes watering, but took it greedily, humming around him.
Katherine watched weakly from the side, one hand drifting lazily between her legs, still trembling from her orgasms.
Simon's rhythm stuttered. "Fuck, Janey"
He came with a guttural groan, flooding her throat with thick ropes of cum. There was so much she couldn't swallow it all-she choked, coughing, cum spilling from the corners of her mouth as she pulled off gasping.
Janet didn't waste it. Still coughing, she crawled to Katherine, cupped her flushed face, and kissed her deeply—pushing Simon's cum into Katherine's mouth. Katherine moaned softly, swallowing what Janet fed her, tongues sliding slickly together in a filthy, cum-slick kiss.
Simon watched, cock already hardening again. When they broke apart, strings of cum connecting their lips, he grabbed Janet by the hips and flipped her onto her back.
He slammed into her without warning—hard, deep, punishing. kanet screamed in pleasure, legs wrapping around his waist. He fucked her like he was trying to split her open—hips snapping, bedframe rattling against the wall.
"Harder," she demanded, nails raking down his back.
He gave it to her. When she started clenching around him, close already, he pulled out, hooked his arms under her knees and lifted her clean off the bed. Her back arched, body suspended in his arms as he stood at the edge of the mattress and drove into her over and over.
Janet's head fell back, hair cascading down. The angle was perfect—his cock hitting her G-spot with every thrust. She came with a wail, pussy spasming, squirting down his thighs. Simon followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with heat—pulse after pulse of cum filling her until it leaked out around his cock.
He didn't stop. Still hard inside her, he kept thrusting through both their orgasms, drawing it out until Janet was shaking, oversensitive, begging in broken gasps.
Finally, he lowered her gently to the bed, both of them collapsing in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slick skin. Katherine curled against their side, pressing soft kisses to whatever skin she could reach.
---
Malibu.
Unlike New York, still gripped by late-winter chill, March in Los Angeles offered perfectly temperate mornings.
The cliffside mansion west of Dume Point Park.
In the ocean-facing bedroom, gentle morning breeze carried the rhythmic crash of waves through the open terrace doors. On the large bed, Katherine opened her eyes, feeling the cool air brush her cheeks. She reached out, finally grasping another pillow and silently pulling it over her face.
A soft chuckle sounded. Katherine paused, then jabbed her elbow into the man beside her like pounding garlic.
All because of this little bastard.
Bastard.
How was she supposed to face Janet now? And if word got out…
Simon, taking the elbow strikes, woke fully. Memories of last night's abandon flooded back. He glanced around: Janet propped on one elbow, smiling brightly at him. On the other side, Katherine buried ostrich-like beneath the pillow.
"Good morning, Janet. And Katherine."
Greeting them, Simon sat up slightly, kissed Janet's cheek, then leaned toward the other side. Sensing his approach, Katherine flailed in panic, landing a few more haphazard blows.
Janet laughed softly again. "All right, little bastard—get out and make breakfast for Kate and me."
Simon dressed quickly. Heading downstairs, he asked Janet, "I was planning to fly to New York today. Tomorrow's your birthday—sure you don't want to celebrate properly?"
Janet waved him off. "I've told you I'm not into birthdays."
Seeing her shooing expression, Simon smiled, leaned in for another kiss on her cheek, then left the bedroom. He washed up in another bathroom, mind drifting inevitably to last night's intoxicating scenes.
He had worked late yesterday, dining with the chosen director for Steel Magnolias to discuss the film. Returning to Malibu after eight, he was alone in the living room and on call when Janet barge in unexpectedly.
And then…
Certain things simply happened.
Breakfast ready, Janet finally dragged Katherine to the dining room, though the latter still avoided Simon's eyes.
Serving Katherine a bowl of oatmeal, Simon turned to Janet, already spreading jam on bread. "So why the sudden return last night?"
Janet took a small bite. "Kate and I caught a preview of When Harry Met Sally. Then I suddenly missed a certain little bastard."
"Oh." Simon smiled. "How was the film?"
"Even better than the script. Gorgeous visuals—I never knew Manhattan could look that beautiful," Janet mused. "And those interviews were charming. Are they real couples?"
"Actors. But the interviews are genuine. The crew collected dozens from elderly couples and selected these."
Simon explained, then turned to Katherine, noting her evasive glance, and suggested, "Tomorrow's Janet's birthday. How about we all head to Palm Springs for a couple days?"
Katherine shook her head quickly. "No—I have to get back to New York. The… film."
Simon started to press, caught Janet's warning look, and changed topics instead. After breakfast—weekend or not—Janet shooed him to the office, where he usually worked unless something urgent arose.
Arriving at Daenerys headquarters, Simon received a call from ICM: Julia Roberts had accepted his five-picture deal.
Then came news about When Harry Met Sally.
The film had previewed yesterday on thirty-three screens in major North American cities. As Simon ended the ICM call, Amy Pascal entered beaming, file in hand.
"Simon, Disney just sent over the first-day media response for When Harry Met Sally. Composite score of nine," Amy said, shaking her head. "Too bad it's Easter—many critics think it won't appeal to younger audiences."
"As long as marketing is smart, we'll draw crowds. Summer has plenty of young viewers too, but far more competition—we couldn't delay to year-end. Easter actually suits this film better."
Simon spoke while opening the file, starting with media excerpts.
"A very clever romantic comedy; its vividly drawn characters let viewers see themselves without realizing it." — Chicago Tribune
"An absolute must-see this Easter." — The Hollywood Reporter
"Compared to Woody Allen's intellectual slyness, I prefer the fresh humor of When Harry Met Sally." — Los Angeles Times
"Meg Ryan's performance is memorable; the strong chemistry between leads compensates for any flaws." — Variety
"Witty and warm, When Harry Met Sally is destined to become a romantic comedy classic." — San Francisco Chronicle
"…"
"…"
Scanning the quotes, Simon's mind remained active. "Amy, you mentioned younger audiences might not be interested?"
"Yes—look further. Disney compiled yesterday's demographic data: only thirty-two percent under twenty-five. For teen-targeted Easter releases, that figure usually exceeds fifty. Plus, the R rating bars many younger viewers."
When Harry Met Sally featured frank sexual discussions and Meg Ryan's infamous restaurant "scene," earning an R—under-seventeen required adult accompaniment.
During rating negotiations, the MPAA had offered PG-13 if the restaurant sequence were cut and minor adjustments made, but the creatives—Simon and Amy included—refused unanimously. All agreed it was the film's crowning moment.
Simon continued reviewing the file, then asked, "Amy, ever hear the story of the salesman sent to Africa to sell shoes?"
Amy shook her head.
Simon couldn't recall its exact origin but summarized: two salesmen report back—one sees no market since natives go barefoot; the other sees unlimited potential for the same reason.
"Our situation mirrors that," he continued. "Easter's core audience is teens on spring break. Many aren't drawn to adult-themed romance—but that means vast untapped potential. Young people may not relate to marriage and love dilemmas, yet they'll definitely be intrigued by certain elements."
Amy realized instantly. "Sex."
"Exactly. No explicit scenes, but Meg's restaurant performance is far more suggestive. Over the next two weeks, alongside standard marketing, we'll make that sequence a media talking point. Teens are the most curious demographic—and most interested in sex. Heat up the topic, and they'll flock to theaters."
Simon recalled countless future examples of controversy-driven buzz. Though no internet yet existed, media hype transcended eras. With thousands of North American newspapers, orchestrating widespread discussion remained straightforward.
Amy absorbed his plan, organized her thoughts, and said, "Simon, I'll call Disney for an emergency meeting now. you coming?"
He shook his head. "I'm heading to Fox—Goldberg wants to discuss sequels for The Butterfly Effect and Death Note. Free today."
Having completed the first Death Note, its rights belonged to Fox, as did The Butterfly Effect. Simon had anticipated sequels but secured generous terms on the original Death Note—Daenerys couldn't demand more.
Still, he wouldn't abandon the franchises entirely. Offering sequel guidance earned minor fees but, more importantly, built favors.
After further details, Simon and Amy parted for their tasks.
Though Katherine claimed morning departure, she remained when Simon returned from work. After Janet's birthday, early the new week, he saw both women off on the private jet to New York.
Meanwhile.
Following several meetings, Disney adopted Simon's suggestions, adjusting distribution strategy.
With Disney's publicity push, Meg Ryan's restaurant scene soon became a widely discussed—even controversial—media focal point, drawing growing attention.
In subsequent days, buzz around When Harry Met Sally continued rising; the initial preview week ended.
Six new films opened the week of March 11, but aside from When Harry Met Sally, none made waves. Instead, Good Morning, Vietnam—in its twelfth week—reclaimed the box office crown with $5.9 million, pushing its total past ninety million.
When Harry Met Sally earned $1.68 million in previews, ranking eleventh weekly.
On the surface, neither figure nor ranking dazzled. Yet with only thirty-three screens, the data proved remarkable.
The champion Good Morning, Vietnam, on 1,579 screens, averaged just over $3,700 per theater. When Harry Met Sally averaged a staggering $51,000—over ten times higher.
If the first week hinted at potential, the second—expanded to thirty-seven screens—saw per-screen averages rise further amid glowing word-of-mouth and discussion.
From March 18–24, the film grossed another $2.07 million on limited release, averaging over $56,000 per screen. This vaulted it to ninth on the weekly chart.
Nearby rankings featured films on dozens of times more screens.
In two preview weeks on barely thirty-plus screens, When Harry Met Sally had already amassed $3.75 million—surpassing many low-budget independents' total North American hauls.
To minimize his visible influence, Simon took no producer credit. As Daenerys's first non-Simon-led project, its success mattered immensely to the studio.
After Lola Rennt, The Butterfly Effect, and Death Note, Simon's filmmaking talent was established.
Yet one person alone could not sustain a studio's growth.
Only success for a film entirely detached from Simon—director, writer, producer—would convince the industry of Daenerys's broader potential.
His billions from futures ensured future projects faced no funding struggles like this one's.
But entering distribution required proving to exhibitors that non-Simon Daenerys films could succeed—a feat money alone could not achieve.
Now.
Accumulating millions on limited screens in two weeks, When Harry Met Sally's triumph seemed assured.
Its success would prompt exhibitors to reassess Daenerys titles like Dead Poets Society and Steel Magnolias, easing future self-distribution.