by C. T. Sloan
***
The next morning I wake up to find Mr. Peak gone. I rise out of bed and find myself alone. I go to the bathroom and there is no sign of my boss. “Mr. Peak?” I call out. There is no answer. This Malibu mansion is so huge I don’t know where to begin my search.
I put on a dress and begin to walk around the top level of the house. I continue to call out my boss’s name to no avail. I walk downstairs and begin to get a little nervous. Where the hell can he be?
As I walk down a long hallway, I hear my boss grunting. It is an animalistic sound. I slowly creep to an open room at the end of the hall and find Mr. Peak working out with a pair of fifty pound dumbbells. Damn, now I know how he gets that incredible body.
I stare at my boss as he works out. I just admire the sweat dripping down from his muscles. As Mr. Peak finishes a set of curls, he drops the weights to the ground and grabs a towel. “I’m disappointed in you Sarah,” Mr. Peak says as his back is turned.
My posture jolts upright. “Sir?” I say meekly. My boss simply motions for me to come into the room. Fuck. How in the world did he know I was spying on him?! Mr. Peak wipes the sweat from his face and looks me up and down.
“I thought you would be a better spy than that,” my boss growls as he snaps the towel at my right thigh. I dare not scream nor do I jump back. My boss tosses the towel to the side. He grabs me and sits down on one of the workout benches. He pulls up my dress, exposing my ass. I feel his strong right hand slam against my backside.
I grab onto the workout bench as my boss slams his hand against my ass. I bite my lower lip, I close my eyes but I dare not scream out in pain. Mr. Peak stands me on my feet and grabs me by the hips.
“Get ready. We will be going out soon,” Mr. Peak orders.
“Where, Sir?”
“You can’t go off to Monaco dressed like some college girl backpacking through Europe,” my boss explains as he walks out of his home gym. I follow him while rubbing my sore butt. “In order to attract the attention of the Dictator’s son you will have to stand out in a sea of well-dressed, well-heeled young women.”
***
Before I know it, my boss and I get dressed and head downstairs. He walks over to the garage and drives out in a Bentley Sedan. I get inside. Mr. Peak speeds out of his private driveway and races down PCH.
We don’t talk much in the car. My boss turns into the city of Santa Monica and heads east. We enter Beverly Hills. My heart begins to race. The car reaches Rodeo Drive. Oh my goodness. You have to be kidding me!
I have been up here a few times before. Of course, I was broke. Coming up to Rodeo Drive is the worst feeling in the world. You see these wealthy people walking around with bags from Fendi, Bucceli and Chanel. And you know that there is no way in hell any average human being can afford to shop on this street. Rodeo Drive sure looks a lot more friendly and inviting from the cabin of a $300,000 car.
Mr. Peak pulls up to the Hermes store where a valet is waiting for him. We get out. The Valet takes his car and drives off. I follow my boss into one of the most expensive stores on Rodeo Drive.
When we walk inside, there is already a store manager and a young woman waiting for Mr. Peak. And boy do they sure look ready to cater to my boss’s demands.
“Good afternoon Mr. Peak, welcome to Hermes. My name is Simon. I am the store manager. To my right is Alicia. She is the director of our women’s department.”
“I will be going to Monaco with my friend and associate Sarah.”
“Excellent Sir,” the impeccably dressed Hermes nanager says.
“When Sarah walks into the Monte Carlo Casino, I want the eyes of every heiress, every billionaire, every playboy, Duchess and every last croupier to be directed in the direction of young Sarah,” Mr. Peak orders.
“When we are done, Mr. Peak, Prince Albert himself will propose to your woman.”
Alicia walks me to the women’s department. I look back and Mr. Peak remains at the front of the store in deep conversations with the store manager.
“Monaco. You truly are a lucky girl,” Alicia says as she leads me down the hallway flanked by a glass wall display of Hermes handbags bathed in golden light. My eyes dart in every direction. My legs struggle to keep up with the tall Hermes employee who seems eager to please my boss and meet my every whim.
I am led to this open atrium area where a staff of people are lined up with racks of clothing and boxes of shoes. Alright, I can officially die now. Before I have a chance to open my mouth, the Hermes staff is measuring my body, opening boxes and consulting amongst themselves.
“We have carefully selected several pieces that would be perfect for your Monaco trip. Let’s start with the shoes,” Alicia says as she has a member of her staff walk me to a seat. The group begins to exhibit the most drop dead gorgeous selections of Hermes heels, shoes and sneakers. I jokingly say, “I’ll take them all.”
Alicia doesn’t get the joke. She simply smiles and pulls out her iPad. The staff begins to carefully place about a dozen shoe boxes into the orange Hermes bags. Alicia stands me up. She begins to show me a selection of casual wear.
“Many of these selections are not even available on our display floor right now,” Alicia explains as she shows me an exquisite caramel and vanilla dress. The tall Hermes associate grabs a cute-as-a-button-hat and places it on top of my head. I smile, grab the brim of the hat and strike a pose.
As the staff continues to show me more and more dresses, my head begins to spin. I remember visiting a website and seeing a Hermes sweater going for $600. I can’t even begin to calculate how much this is going to cost Mr. Peak.
The staff starts to wrap up my selections as Alicia grabs my hand. “As you know, Hermes is famous for our handbags, we would like to show you our most special selections,” the young woman says as she walks me to a glass counter. On the counter are six Limited Edition Hermes bags. Alicia proudly acquaints me with each bag. “These Limited Edition bags are all hand made. For Monaco, I would like to recommend this highly coveted and ultra-rare Constance Elan model.”
I feast my eyes on this little black bag. It seems to have a glow around it. Bags are the one thing I really indulge in, when I have the money. So I can’t help but ask Alicia, “How much does this cost?”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Alicia announces without hesitation. My heart jumps. I simply shake my head up and down. The Hermes girl smiles and hands the bag off to one of her staff members for proper packing.
Now, I have always had fantasies of walking out of Hermes with five or six bags in my hand. In this case, I carry nothing out of the store. The staff walks out of the boutique with a dozen bags. They march to Mr. Peak’s Bentley, stuffing the trunk of the massive vehicle with those precious orange bags.
I just stare at that truck full of shoes, dresses, hats, heels and handbags. Mr. Peak walks up behind me and says, “Good thing I brought the big Bentley.”
I turn around and look up at my boss. “I hope I didn’t take too much, Sir.”
“This is the cost of doing business, Sarah.”
The Hermes manager walks out, all smiles, and shakes Mr. Peak’s hand. “It is a pleasure to do business with you. I hope you have a wonderful time in Monaco,” the manager announces.
“We will have an excellent time. Thank you,” Mr.Peak says as he gives the manager a firm handshake.
The manager hands my boss the receipt, printed on an eight by eleven piece of paper. My boss doesn’t even look at the paper. He simply folds it and tucks it into his suit pocket. God. I want to know how much he spent. I want to know so badly but I dare not ask how much my boss just dropped at Hermes.
We get into the car. My boss drives down Rodeo. I look at him for a moment. Then I realize, fuck, I should thank him. “Thank you, Mr. Peak. I can’t believe you purchased all those wonderful things for me.”
“Well, we have one more stop to make,” my boss announces.
“One more stop?” I ask.
“In order to make you
stand out in the Monte Carlo Casino, you will have to outshine the other women,” Mr. Peak explains as he pulls up in front of the Cartier store.
Wow. I think I really am going to pass out.
When I get out of the Bentley, my knees literally become weak. I honestly would do my boss right now, in the middle of Rodeo Drive, if he ordered me.
As we approach the Cartier store, a woman opens the door for us and flashes a wide smile. Now, if you have never been to Rodeo Drive before, this kind of behavior never happens to regular human beings. Most of these stores will give you a dirty look if you don’t look like you can afford to shop there. The Cartier manager could not open the door fast enough for Mr. Peak.
“How do you do today?” the Cartier woman asks.
“We are doing fine. My associate, Sarah, will be in Monaco. I want you to make her envied by all the women in the Municipality.”
The Cartier woman doesn’t need to hear another word. She smiles and snaps her fingers. Every associate on the floor comes rushing towards her. Her snapping of the fingers must be some kind of code for, we got a fucking billionaire in our store.
A large white French chair is pulled up for me. They position the chair under the massive candlelit chandelier at the center of the store. A selection of watches, necklaces, earrings and bracelets are displayed before me. I look back at Mr. Peak who watches passively as the sales staff gets to work.
“The first impression is always the most important. People will be looking at your chest,” the woman says as she grabs a case from one of her associates. “And when people lay their eyes on you, they will see this” she announces as she opens the box.
In front of me is the most decadent necklace I have ever seen in my life. The diamonds blind me. The arrangement of the stones are perfect. The Cartier salesgirl places that necklace around my neck. I feel it lock behind me. The woman holds a mirror in front of me. I see that necklace around my neck. Yes, I am sold.
The woman shows me a pair of matching earrings. She places them on me. I feel like a monarch. The women continue to open case after case. They place bracelets on each of my wrists. I am offered another, more subtle necklace, for “casual attire.”
I am shown a watch with dozens of diamonds framing the clock face. “This is our Santos Demoiselle model. I think this would be perfect for Monte Carlo,” the sales girl says as she places it on my wrist.
The Cartier woman extends her hand. I stand up and am presented to Mr. Peak. He looks at me and doesn’t say anything just yet. After a long and tense few seconds, he simply says, “Something is missing.”
Mr. Peak grabs my right hand and tells the Cartier woman, “Rings attract attention.”
The Cartier sales girl nods. Oh my God. Is Mr. Peak about to put a ring on my finger?!
The sales girl comes back with a case. She opens the case. But this time, she opens the case away from my eyes. The Cartier girl shows the ring to my boss. “Good,” he says.
Mr. Peak takes the ring from the case and grabs my hand. My boss slowly places the ring on my finger. I begin to melt.
I look at the platinum ring with a rock that makes me hyperventilate. Even the other sales girls seem impressed. My boss reaches into his coat jacket and hands the woman a Black Amex Card. I awkwardly stand there unsure of how I could ever thank Mr. Peak for making me feel like the most special girl in the world.
As the store processes the payment, Mr. Peak looks at the ring and the necklace. He tells me, “You have to feel comfortable with these diamonds. They should feel like an extension of yourself. Don’t let the diamonds carry you. You should carry the diamonds.”
I begin to walk around the store. My posture straightens out. I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror. Damn, I look good. My confidence begins to rise. Other people in the store are looking at me. Hell, they are not looking, they are gawking at me. They want to know who I am. What makes me so special to deserve all this attention.
My body surges with this energy and excitement at the thought of helping my Mr. Peak win his biggest conquest. I walk back over to my boss who signs off on the final bill. When the transaction is complete, the Cartier sales woman hands me the jewelry boxes. “Have a wonderful time in Monaco,” she tells me.
“I will.”
***
We get back to the mansion in Malibu, I carefully put away all of the jewelry except for that incredible ring on my finger. I just can’t stop staring at it. Of course, Mr. Peak and myself are not husband and wife. Our bond is just as deep. We are sexual partners. We are partners in crime. Our lives will depend on each other when we get to Monaco.
That night, Mr. Peak carries me to his bed. He looks at the ring still on my finger. “You like that ring, don’t you?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever take this off.”
My boss tosses me onto the bed and jumps on top of me. He pins me down and forces me to look him directly in the face. “Pay attention and pay attention to me very carefully. Do you know what a diamond is?”
“It’s a gemstone?” I ask nervously.
“It is the most powerful stone in the world. But it is more than simple jewelry. Turn the ring around so the rock is under your palm.”
I do what Mr. Peak says. He takes my hand, with the ring, and presses it against his own neck.
“That little ring may also save your life. Serge Molidak is known for extreme violence. That diamond will be enough to cut someone open at close range. Keep that in mind,” Mr. Peak orders as he takes my hand and presses it against my face. I can feel the stone ready to pierce my skin. I wince. Mr. Peak frees my hand just before the diamond cuts my flesh.
The surge of adrenaline rushes through me. I grab my boss and kiss him. He runs his tongue on my neck.
“I want to play with you so badly right now,” my boss growls as he peels off my clothes. Mr. Peak runs his massive hands all over my soft body. I rip open my boss’s shirt and attack him like an animal. We struggle and fight to gain control over each other. Mr. Peak grabs his belt and wraps it around my neck. As usual, my boss gets his way in bed. And I am learning to like it that way.
We don’t get to sleep until four in the morning. Bed sheets, pillows, chains, belts and handcuffs are strewn all over the master bedroom. Mr. Peak wakes me up with a nice spank on the ass. “Wake up sleepy head. It’s time to fly to Europe.”
***
Mr. Peak’s staff packs up a SUV with all of our baggage. We take a chauffeured Maybach to the Santa Monica Municipal Airport where the Gulfstream V is fueled and ready to go. As we exit the car, I notice that my boss has is reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. It’s probably a good idea to have some reading material. We have to fly to New York to re-fuel the jet. Then it’s off to Monaco.
As the staff packs up the jet, I turn on my iPad and begin to do a Google search on the nation of Odostan. It may be a good idea to research the country that I am helping to overthrow! I start off on good old Wikipedia.
From Wikipedia: Odostan (Formally known as The Republic of Odostan) is a former Soviet-bloc nation located at the crossroads of Eastern Europe and Western Asia with a population of twenty-one million people. Odostan is bounded by Russia to the North, the Caspian Sea to the East, Armenia to the West and Iran to the South. The country has been ruled by a dictator, President Yuri Molidak for the past 22 years. The main source of income for the Republic of Odostan is light sweet crude oil and is the fourth largest exporter of oil in the world.
We board the jet. I continue to read up on President Molidak. The man is 62 years old. He was the chief KGB agent for the Odostan Region during the 1980s. Today, he has a suspected personal net worth of over twenty billion dollars. Wow.
Mr. Peak notices that I am reading up on Odostan. He seems rather pleased that I am taking my assignment seriously. I really want to impress my boss so I keep my head buried in my iPad, dutifully doing my research on the project ahead of us.
My attention turns to Sergey Molidak. Since I have to seduce this guy, I
really want to know what he looks like. I do an image search and find his official photo. Well, what can I say? The guy looks like a spoiled rich jerk. He is tall and somewhat buff with an arrogant smirk on his face. He kinda looks like that frat boy you regret dating your freshman year in college.
Sergey was kicked out of Oxford for cheating. He transferred to the University of Geneva where he received a degree in Economics. He holds the rank of General in the Odostan Army and officially is the Commander of the President’s Personal “Lions” Guard. Serge is also the head of the Odostan Oil Ministry and the Head of the Odostan National Soccer Club. Boy, for a trust fund kid, he sure gets a lot of responsibility from his dad.
Sergey owns over a hundred exotic cars valued at over fifty million dollars. He owns six private jets and a two hundred million dollar yacht. This guy has a pretty sweet life. I see a recent Vanity Fair article entitled, “The Wild, Violent and Warped World of Odostan’s Favorite Son”. I click on the link and begin to read the article.
