“Good girl,” Ian said, and glided his hand up my thigh, to my stomach. “Stand up,” he said. It did not sound like a request.
I nodded vaguely. I felt hypnotized, inebriated with desire. I hardly even remembered the actual action of him taking my clothes off, I only remember him bending me over the desk, my insides opening up for him, wetness running from my slit down my thighs. Only my heels remained on, at Ian's request.
Ian grabbed a fist full of my hair and pulled. The dull ache made it feel as though magma was running through my veins. My skin was a deep scarlet. I felt Ian's warm, rough hand travel down my back and rest on my ass. I wanted it so badly, so badly that I was ashamed of myself. I couldn't look him in the face. “Fill me up,” I demanded, on the verge of tears; the anticipation was too much.
Ian wrapped a powerful hand around the back of my neck, pinning my head to the desk. He was so strong, it paralyzed me; froze me in some awkward position, forcing my insides to open wider for him. I could feel his hard, thick cock slide inside of me. I couldn't have offered any resistance even if I had wanted to. I simply had to submit, to take whatever he was giving me. My body breathed a sigh of relief as the floodgates opened and pleasure surged through me. Ian tugged harder on my hair, pulling my head back. Then he buried his cock deep inside of me, over and over again. Ian thrust faster, and deeper, never breaking rhythm.
He was in great shape so he did not relent, nor lose his breath, he simply continued to pound into me, somehow going deeper with each thrust. He would find one g-spot, satiate it, and then find another. My body was trembling with pleasure, my nails raking the enamel off of my desk, sweat caking my face. I felt the pressure building in my pussy, on the verge of critical mass. “Fuck me,” I moaned, the vulgarity of the word alone filled me with satisfaction. “Fuck my pussy,” I shouted, surrendering myself to sensation. Then, my body coiled tightly for an instant, and released.
We came simultaneously. I felt his warm liquid squirt inside of me, just as my own fluids gushed all over his softening cock. I clutched the desk in some mad death grip as the orgasm wracked my body. I moaned incoherently, no rational thoughts entering my mind. The orgasm continued for what seemed like an eternity. Then, finally, it released me from its grasp, and rationality came back abruptly. Then I realized I was leaning over a cold desk, naked, being straddled by the most famous billionaire on the planet, who also was my boss, and my mark. He didn't even know my real name. What had I just done...
* * *
When I finished reading, the interviewer's face was as white as a ghost, “I-I had no idea.”
“There are probably many things you don't know about Mr. Payne. You or anyone else,” I said.
“Yes. I see that now.,” the interviewer said. He was contemplating something.
“Should I continue with my story?” I asked.
My interviewer looked at the clock and frowned. “Not today. We're out of time. I didn’t expect the story to be so long, in truth. Tomorrow though, you can tell me how in ends.”
“Tomorrow I can tell you how it begins,” I corrected, gathering my things. My interviewer nodded and exited the room.
“Goodnight Rachel. Turn out the lights when you're finished,” he said.
I lingered a bit in the room alone while he was gone, peering out the window. Finally I turned off the light, but I was far from finished.
Spy’s Burden
Interview # 2
“You're late Rachel,” my interviewer said as I rushed into his office, coffee in hand.
“How observant of you,” I growled. It had been a rough night, and a rougher morning.
“No need to get snippy,” the interviewer said; he looked hurt. I almost laughed, but then I felt guilty.
“I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night,” I admitted. Thoughts of Ian had pervaded my dreams. They’d been endless. This whole process had been more taxing than I could have ever imagined, and with me being a Pulitzer Prize winning author, that was not an easy thing to do.
I sat down, rifling through my purse. My heart quickened. Had I misplaced it? No. There it was, the diary, sleek and black. I put it on the glass table.
“So,” my interviewer said.
“So,” I replied.
“Should we just pick up where we left off then?” my interviewer asked.
I took a sip of coffee, trying to jolt my sluggish brain back into action. “Yes. But where was I... Oh right. Ellie Vanderbauk. Ian's little play thing.”
The interviewer raised a bushy eyebrow. He knew the name. Who didn't? “Go on,” he said.
I took a deep breath. It will all be over soon enough. I told myself. Then I could finally get a good night’s sleep. “Well. Like I was saying. I had busted my heel. So Ian had called Ellie, to help me find a suitable replacement...” I said as the interviewer hit the red button on his tape recorder.
* * *
“Ellie. Are you on the premises? Good. Yeah she's here now, and in dire need of your services. Okay great, see you soon,” Ian hung up the phone and slapped his hands together. “Okay, it's all settled then.”
“What's all settled?” I asked, confused.
“Ellie Vanderbauk is a fashonista, one of the finest ones on the planet. You and her are going to do a little shopping. My treat,” Ian said.
“What? I don't want to shop, I want to do my job,” I protested.
“Oh you are, Ms. Potters. You'll be getting paid, don't worry. Think of it as shopping for your uniform. Trust me, Ellie has won countless awards. You're in good hands,” Ian said.
“But- I. Okay...” any protests died before they could formulate. I knew it would be useless to argue. 'So close, yet so far,' I thought as Ian lead me away from the house, toward the garage.
The garage however was equally as impressive as the house. It was massive. I've seen country homes with less space. Inside was an assortment of both new and classic cars, exotic and domestic. Every one looked as though it had never been driven, or even seen the light of day. It was all so perfect. 'Must be nice,' I thought, letting envy get the better of me.
“So this is your next victim huh?” a voice from behind me said. I turned. The woman before me had rich, dark hair, closely cropped. Her bangs were highlighted red and hung over her eyes. She was at least six inches shorter than me with very sharp, feminine features. She looked like a sprite or a pixie, like a dark version of Tinkerbelle. The dress she wore was a rich, jet black as well, and her shoes were red cross-laced heels with a diamond buckle in the center. She looked like she should be plastered all over the cover of vogue magazine. She looked as sleek and stylish as all of Ian's Lamborghinis.
“Don't start, Ellie. Bill's already scared the poor girl enough for one day. She doesn't need any more help from you,” Ian said.
Ellie laughed. It was a musical one, very attractive. “Oh but what is the fun of having a new toy if you can’t play with it?” Ellie said with a pouting lip, one with a fresh coating of black lipstick on it.
“Just try to bring her back in one piece, promise me?” Ian asked.
Ellie slid closer to Ian, stroking his tie with her manicured hand. “You mean, you’re not accompanying us Mr. Ian? I’m good for more than just shopping you know,” she said, tracing a finger down Ian's chest.
It made me very uncomfortable.
Ian grabbed Ellie's hand, and then took a step back. “Next time Ellie. I think I've procrastinated enough. I have quite a bit of work to do.”
Ellie frowned. “Always next time for you. He’s practically a monk,” she said to me. “Oh well, if I can't ride you, I’ll just have to settle for your Ferrari. Almost as good.” Ellie said, grabbing the keys Ian dangled in front of her.
“Remember Ellie. I just want you to get her some decent clothing. Nothing else. Promise me,” Ian said.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “I will not hurt your new little pet, I promise.” she said.
Ian looked to me; I think he cou
ld see the apprehension in my eyes. “She's not so bad, really. Not when you get to know her,” he said.
I nodded, but was at a loss for words. She was flamboyant to say the least, and she kept throwing herself at Ian. I couldn't help but wonder if there was some history there.
“Oh just go,” Ellie said, pushing Ian away. “Why do you baby her so?” That's when Ellie's eyes went wide. “Oh! You are liking this girl!” she said, as if it was some great revelation.
“Good bye Ellie, and good luck Ms. Potters,” Ian said, then turned to leave.
Ellie laughed. “Okay I will not hurt your new lover,” she mocked. “I promise.” Then she turned to me. She did not speak, she only looked me up and down, much like Logan had. Ellie curled her nose as if she had just smelled something foul. “Well, you are pretty, I will give him that. You have good structure, but no poise, and a horrible fashion sense,” she sighed. “Another primitive. Oh well, I've done better with worse. Come darling, time to turn you into Ian's little princess.”
'Did she ever stop talking?' I thought as we got into a gorgeous little purple and pink Ferrari. I had a feeling it was going to be a very long ride. Predictably, Ellie did continue talking, mostly about a fashion show she did here, or an event where she tailored there. She even claimed to do have done wardrobe work for a couple of big movies. Some of it was actually quite interesting, but I was more concerned with trying to figure out where we were. Most of the roads were long and winding, with no labels. I hardly even noticed when we crossed over into the city.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked.
Ellie smiled. “Ian has given me his black platinum card. So the better question is, where aren't we going?” she said with a laugh.
“Don't you think that's a bad idea? What if he finds out?” I asked. My father had always told me that rich men don't get rich by being generous.
Ellie laughed. “He expects it. Trust me darling. There's nothing in this city we could buy that could even put a dent in Mr. Ian's bank account.”
I still wasn't so certain. I didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself.
“Oh come on,” Ellie said. “Are you so noble? Are you telling me there isn't something you want, but have not been able to afford? Of course there is. And now you get to have all of it. Besides, you could be fired by tomorrow, especially the way Ian goes through his assistants. So why not get something out of it?”
She had a good point, a few of them. I mean, who was I kidding? I was in the heart of one of the best consumer markets on earth, with a credit card that had no limit. Of course I was going to go crazy. I was only human. “Okay,” I said, nodding enthusiastically.
Ellie parked the car outside of Mayfield's mall, the largest, most popular mall in the entire state. It was very exclusive too. You had to pay just to reserve an allotted amount of shopping time inside, and even to make the reservation, you usually had to know someone. My stomach was bubbling with excitement. I had never been inside it before. Even the one piece I had written about it, I had only done so from the outside. It was like a fantasy come to life.
Ellie smirked mischievously. “Let the shopping spree begin. First one to spend 50,000 wins,” she said.
“Wins what?” I asked.
Ellie shrugged. “I don't know. By the time you spend the money you won't have anything left to want.” We both laughed. Ian had been right. Ellie wasn't so bad after all.
The rest of the day played out like a fairy tale. We would go from one store to another, each time loaded down with more and more. Perfumes, necklaces, blouses, rings, earrings, skirts, coats, heels, slippers, designer lipsticks. With each store we entered I didn't think it was possible for me to want anything else, but I always found that one more thing. Soon we couldn't carry it all, and Ellie began to hire random shoppers as escorts. They would carry our bags and in exchange, Ellie would buy them whatever they wanted. Before we knew it, an entire entourage was following us, loaded down with designer bags full of everything from mink coats to make-up.
In one store, Ellie had accidentally torn a 5,000-dollar dress while trying it on. When the owner began screaming at her, Ellie simply replied. “What, this rag is worth 5,000?” and ripped a strip of the fabric off in front of everyone. The storeowner then made her buy it, which didn't bother Ellie at all. In fact, after purchasing it, she draped it around her neck, wearing it like a scarf. She said it was a battle trophy. She explained to me that real shopping was like fighting a war. One had to know when and where to strike.
Ellie was an encyclopaedia of useful fashion tips. She told me that I should always buy a dress too long, so that when I had it hemmed, I could keep the part they cut and turn it into a skirt. By the time she was through with all her advice, my head was spinning. I thought I was an experienced shopper, I thought I had developed it into an art form. Ellie however, was born into it, she revelled in it, was adopted by it, had spent a lifetime crafting it. She lived and died by her merchandise mantra. She said the only real freedom anyone really had in life was the freedom to choose, and nothing better exemplified that freedom than shopping. When you shopped, you chose which shoes you liked more, which earrings had a better sparkle, what lipstick was a better shade. You never had to compromise. It was the essence of self-expression, she had said. It was the only real art form that could exist in a capitalist country.
I wasn't sure how good of a philosopher Ellie was, but one thing was certain, the woman knew fashion. Every outfit she found me I loved more than the last. By noon she had collected for me a stunning and eclectic wardrobe and had still somehow managed not to hit the 50,000 mark. My feet had begun to ache so much from walking from store to store. We had to break for lunch before either of us had spent more than 30,000.
We sat down in the food court, nearly buried alive by all the bags surrounding us. As I munched on french fries drenched in ketchup, I kept noticing that I was getting strange stares from the other shoppers, ugly stares.
“Don't mind them,” Ellie said. “Envy is an unavoidable part of my profession. It’s best to block them out. That is what I do.”
“They look so hateful. How could you hate a complete stranger?” I asked, appalled.
Ellie shrugged. Commoners don't understand wealth, or art. They don't understand anything. This is why they are commoners. People hate what they don't understand. That is just the way of things.” Ellie said with a shrug.
“Aren't you going to eat?” I asked her, noticing only the water in front of her.
“Eating is for the weak.” she replied. “To eat is to be mortal, to be mortal is to die, and I am going to live forever,” Ellie said.
I took another bite of the burger, getting a bit of bacon smothered in creamy cheese. “If you can't enjoy a burger, then you're already dead,” I said, savouring every bite.
Ellie examined me, a look of faint disgust as I stuffed myself with french fries and took another massive bite of the burger, washing it all down with an ice-cold soda. I was famished. “I see now why Ian likes you.,” she said.
I wiped the ketchup from my cheek with a napkin. “What?” I asked.
“You are different. Different from everyone he has ever known. Opposites attract, that is the way of things,” Ellie said.
“Why do you keep saying that? That Mr. Payne likes me? Do you mean professionally? Or romantically?” I asked.
Ellie laughed. “Are you really that innocent? Why else would he ask me to take you shopping? He is trying to show off for you.”
I hadn't thought about that. “You mean, he doesn't do that for all of his assistants?”
Ellie laughed and shook her head. “Of course not, don't be stupid.” She frowned as I stuffed the last half of the burger in my mouth, getting mayonnaise all over my cheek. “Eck,” she said in disgust. “You eat like a cow. How do you keep such a figure? Are you bulimic?”
The bluntness of the question nearly caused me to choke. “No! Of course not,” I said
incredulously.
Ellie did not look convinced. “You are a nice girl.,” she finally said. “Too nice. You should be careful.”
I stopped eating. Something in Ellie's eyes turned dark, foreboding. “What do you mean?”
All of the warmth left Ellie's face. “This is a whole different world, Ms. Potters. It may seem lavish but I promise, the underbelly is just as dirty as anyone else's. Ian may have taken a liking to you, as he does with all new projects. But a word of caution. Ian is not known for his ability to commit, and he becomes bored easily. You are his new infatuation, enjoy it while it lasts. But remember that it will be short lived. Sure, he will fix you up, mend your broken parts and polish you. This is what he does, what makes him a great man. Once there is nothing left for him to fix though, he will discard you, find a new project. And if you are not prepared, the fall will leave you more broken than when you began,” Ellie said gravely.
My stomach knotted tightly. It almost sounded like a threat. How much of what Ellie was saying was true? It was obvious she was fond of Ian. Was she just saying that to scare me away, to protect her own interests? Or was this coming from her own experiences? I only nodded. “My interest in Mr. Payne is strictly professional,” I said with a practiced politeness.
Ellie's look lingered a bit longer, finally she nodded. “Okay, if that is true, I am glad for it. Good luck convincing Ian of that however,” she shrugged. “Now are you ready to try and break the 50,000 mark?” she asked, attempting to shift the mood of the conversation.
Suddenly, shopping no longer seemed appealing. “No, I think... I think, we should just get back to the estate, so that I can start my work,” I said. I had already lost so much of my focus.
Rich Man's Deception: Complete Boxed Set Bundle: Billionaire Boss / Corporate Espionage Romance Page 4
