Date: January 1995
Location: Miramax Mixer, Los Angeles
Actress: Gwyneth Paltrow (22)
Alexander status: Current project: producing Se7en
Gwyneth status: Breakout is near, but not here yet — She's had respectable roles in Hook, Flesh and Bone, Malice, and Jefferson in Paris, but none have made her a star. She's currently filming Se7en (not yet released), unaware it will change everything. Her relationship with Brad Pitt is still new, and while she's seen as elegant, smart, and promising, she's not considered bankable yet — still "Blythe Danner's daughter" to much of Hollywood.
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The air inside the Miramax mixer was the kind of warm, perfumed Hollywood smog only power could make breathable. Men wore suits like armor; women like Gwyneth Paltrow wore them like silk whispers.
She was tall, fair, impossibly composed for 22. Like she'd already been famous in another life and was just catching up in this one.
She saw him before he saw her. Or rather—she felt him. Everyone did. He was like a shark in a sea of house fish, the kind of man who didn't just enter a room, but rearranged it.
White hair in a sea of black tuxedos. Eyes the kind of green that made her think of snakes and luxury handbags. Alexander Kaine was standing by the window, backlit like a portrait, the skyline of Los Angeles flickering behind him. He wasn't mingling. He didn't need to.
The mixer was loud, unfocused. People whispered "Blythe's daughter" when she passed. Slowly, she walked up to Alexander.
"Alexander Kaine," she said, smiling. "I'm in this David Fincher movie. Se7en. Brad's in it too." A pause. "My boyfriend, actually."
Alexander tilted his head. "I know," he said with an amused smile.
"Oh, you do? 'Cause I never saw the all-knowing producer on the set," she said, her lips spreading in a charm, eyes lighting up with mischief.
"I'm producing it," he said. "But it's Fincher's vision. Morgan and Brad? They're the heart." He signaled a passing waiter to bring two drinks.
"And anyway, you don't want a producer to meddle in creative decisions when you have such talented people."
She nodded at that.
"So what do you really do? Are you just some rich guy fulfilling his fantasy? The news was calling you the richest nerd."
"Ha," he laughed—a clearing-student-loans-in-an-hour laugh.
"You mean them talking about me buying Marvel?" Alexander just gave the biggest smile he could.
Knowing the future, he just couldn't wait to see their faces when he'd pull the rug—and they'd realize they didn't even have a counter. Just waiting to buy DC's best and trap them in a Sony contract, he thought, considering his master plan of taking over billion-dollar IPs.
"Well, time will tell about decisions like that." He shook his head. I'm buying the IP before the world realizes it runs on IP.
The drinks arrived. He picked a glass, handed it to Gwyneth, and then took one for himself.
"Coming back to Se7en—its story is its engine. It will be a masterpiece."
She nodded, suddenly nervous. "The script's so dark. Are you sure people will come?"
"Darkness sells when it's done right. This isn't just a movie—it's a mirror. People will see themselves in the sins, and they'll want to look away and look closer at the same time."
She watched the room through his eyes—actors frozen mid-laugh, executives pretending not to eavesdrop.
"You're not like the others," she said eventually.
"You command a room without saying much," she added, half-flirting, half-amazed. "Like everyone's waiting for you to decide the next word."
He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"It's called presence," he said. "And patience. Watch and learn."
At that moment, a famous director approached Alexander, nodding respectfully. A well-known star glanced his way, eyes flickering with recognition.
Gwyneth swallowed hard.
Slowly, they walked to the balcony outside. The distance between them decreased.
"So… what's next for Se7en?" she asked.
"Premiere is three months away," he said. "I'm betting it'll be the kind of film people argue about for years. And then, we ride the wave."
She laughed softly. "You make it sound like a prophecy."
"Maybe it is."
His voice dropped an octave as he leaned closer, eyes locking onto hers.
"But I wanna let you know—Se7en will make you a household name. But it won't be your masterpiece."
She narrowed her eyes. "What will?"
"Come with me," he said. "Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that lets me tell you what's really coming. And maybe—" he smiled wickedly "—where I find out what you really want."
"Is this a pitch?"
"It's a prophecy."
She stared at him.
Then she finished her drink, set it down gently, and said—
"Okay. Surprise me."
Gwyneth hesitated. Then placed her hand in his.
And just like that, the girl who would win an Oscar five years later followed the man who already owned her future.
They left the party without saying goodbye.
A sleek black car awaited—of course it did.
Gwyneth Paltrow, clad in a silk dress, slid her hand up Alexander's leg as they drove away from the fancy party.
She caressed his thigh, feeling the firm muscle beneath her touch. Alexander looked at her with a smirk, his eyes reflecting the streetlights as they sped through the city.
As her hand inched closer to his crotch, he unbuckled his belt, allowing her to unbutton his trousers and unzip his fly.
His cock sprang free, already semi-hard and ready for her touch.
Gwyneth marveled at its length, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
She took his length in her hand, marvelling at its size and the power it held. 'So the rumors were true,' she thought, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she felt his warmth permeate her cold hands.
She began to stroke him slowly from base to tip, her touch firm and purposeful.
Alexander let out a low groan, "urg."
Gwyneth leaned down, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered, "I've heard a lot about you, Alexander. Let's see if you live up to the hype." She then took him fully in her mouth, her lips stretching to accommodate his girth.
She started with slow, deliberate sucks, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head, tasting the pre-cum that leaked from his tip.
She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass, her hand working in tandem to stroke what her mouth couldn't fit.
The car filled with the sounds of her sloppy, wet blows, the obscene noises mixing with Alexander's groans of pleasure.
She could feel his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her movements, urging her to take him deeper still.
Gwyneth pulled back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening cock. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust and mischief.
"You taste so good," she purred, before taking him back into her mouth, this time with renewed vigor.
She sucked him eagerly, her head bobbing faster, her hand moving in a blur as she jerked him off in sync with her blows.
Alexander's breaths came in ragged gasps, his body tensing as she brought him closer to the edge. "Fuck, Gwyneth," he groaned, his hand on her head pushing and pulling, fucking her mouth in earnest now.
She took it all, her eyes watering, her makeup probably smeared, but not giving a damn. She wanted this, wanted him, fuck Brad and she was going to see it through.
Just as she thought he was about to explode, he pulled her off him, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing and leaking. "Not yet," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want to fuck you proper first."
Not long they reached his villa.
He quickly fixed his pants, then walked around to the other door, opening it for Gwyneth. She stepped out, adjusting her dress, and he picked her up, carrying her bridal-style towards the house. "Your impatience will get you a reward," he growled, his voice low and promising.
"What would that be?" she asked, her breath hitching in anticipation.
"A deep fucking till you limp out of here in the morning," he replied, his voice laced with desire and dominance.
Gwyneth let out a soft laugh. "Oh, you don't mind people calling you names, or having an affair with your actor's girlfriend?"
Alexander chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. "Ha, names are just words, and affairs are just stories people tell. Tonight, it's just you and me."
As they entered the villa, the door closed behind them, shutting out the world and leaving them to their own desires.
As they entered the villa, Alexander wasted no time, pushing Gwyneth against the wall, his lips crashing onto hers. He hiked up her silk dress, his hands rough and eager as he grabbed her ass, squeezing and kneading it.
She moaned into his mouth, her hands fumbling with his belt again, eager to free his already hard cock.
He spun her around, bending her over the nearby couch, her ass presented to him like an offering. He smacked it, hard, the sound echoing in the room. She yelped, then pushed back against his hand, wanting more.
" You like that, you little slut?" he growled, rubbing his cock against her ass. "You like being used?"
She looked back at him, her eyes filled with lust. "Yes," she panted. "I want you to use me. I want you to fuck me like the little actress slut I am."
He spat on his hand, then reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in quick circles.
She bucked against him, her breath coming in gasps. He entered her then, his cock slamming into her pussy, his hips moving in a brutal, punishing rhythm.
The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, a symphony of their debauchery.
"Your pussy is so fucking tight," he grunted. "It's like a vice around my cock."
She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. "Just fuck me harder," she demanded. "I can take it."
He obliged, his hips moving faster, his cock driving deeper. He reached around, his hand gripping her throat, squeezing lightly as he fucked her.
She came then, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around his cock. He didn't stop, didn't slow down. He fucked her through her orgasm, his hips moving like a piston.
"Whose cock is this?" he growled, slapping her ass again. "Whose?"
"Yours," she gasped. "It's yours. I'm yours."
He pulled out then, his cock glistening with her juices. He spun her around, lifting her up, her legs wrapping around his waist.
He entered her ass then, slowly, inch by inch, his eyes locked on hers. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"Shh," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "It's okay. Just relax."
She did, her body melting into his as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of her ass.
He carried her to the bedroom, their bodies still connected, his cock still moving inside her. He laid her down gently, his body covering hers as he continued to fuck her, his pace slow and deep.
"You feel so good," he murmured, his lips against her ear. "Your ass is so fucking tight."
She wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper. "I want it all," she whispered. "I want every inch of your cock."
He gave it to her, his hips moving faster, his cock driving deeper. Each thrust was a claim, a possession, a promise of the morning's soreness. He grunted with effort and pleasure, his body slapping against hers, the sound raw and animalistic. He could feel every inch of her, her heat, her tightness, her wetness. He was losing control, his body taking over, chasing its release. His cock swelled inside her, pulsing with his impending orgasm.
"Fuck, Gwyneth," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Your ass is gripping me so fucking tight. I'm going to fill you up. I'm going to fill your little ass with my seed."
He came with a roar, a primal sound that echoed through the room. His body shuddered, his cock pulsing, spurting his hot seed deep inside her ass. He could feel her, could feel every ripple, every clench of her body as she took his load. It was too much, too intense, and he collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He stayed there for a moment, his cock still buried in her ass, their bodies connected as one. He could feel her heart racing, could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he'd just given her.
Slowly, he rolled off her, his cock slipping out of her ass, a mix of their fluids leaking out. He pulled her into his arms, her back to his front, his cock still semi-hard and tucked against her ass. He could already feel her trembling, could feel the soreness in her body. He smiled, a satisfied, smug smile.
"See?" he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back, her side, her hip. His touch was gentle, a contrast to the roughness of their sex. "I told you you'd be limping in the morning. You're going to feel me all day, every time you move. You're going to remember this, remember me, remember how I used your body, how I filled you up."
He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck, his arms tightening around her. He could feel her breathing slow, could feel her body relaxing into his. He smiled again, satisfied, content. He'd marked her, claimed her, and he fucking loved it.