I was too tipsy and excited about two months of rent free living to smell the obvious bullshit.
"Okay." I sighed. "These ones are as good as any. Hold on, I'll get changed."
"Not so fast." Clarissa stopped me. Jean was still in shock that the Mother Superior, aka me, was going to go through with this.
"What is it now?" I said.
"You need to get hot in those shorts first."
I began to sober up.
"That's enough, this game has gone far enough."
She stared at me - willing me to back down.
"I promise you that I can get you ten grand for the pair you're wearing right now, no matter what condition they're in, as long as I can give my personal guarantee that they've seen action."
The woman was as serious as world peace.
Ten thousand dollars. I could pay the rich kid and scrape by for six months… I could feel my pulse begin to speed up. For ten thousand dollars, I could get pretty serious myself.
"How exactly… " I swallowed hard, "just how exactly do you propose that I get hot in them?" I said in a low voice.
Dumb question.
Clarissa finally allowed her poker face to relax and let out a long, intensely annoying laugh.
"Only our sexy little Mother Superior could ask that question." She said. The mocking look on her face made we want to plant one on her, but ten grand is a powerful behavior modifier. I held myself back.
I guess you could say I got greedy.
"I'm serious." I told her. "How do I get 'hot' in these? What do you want me to do?"
Clarissa considered my question for a moment, maybe just to add gravity to the moment or maybe because she hadn't thought this fully through yet.
"I want you to tell him exactly what you would do to him in exchange for that money. And I want you to mean every word you say."
She filled up my glass with the last drops from the bottle of wine.
"I'll go get a refill." She purred and headed to the kitchen.
After that it all gets a little blurry.
Chapter Five
The doors of the elevator opened and all the hard work I had done to get my cock under control went out the window when I saw her waiting. I had no choice but to suck it up and hope for the best. In my experience the best way to deal with this situation is to fuck the woman in question - as soon and as hard as possible. Given the images and messages she had sent me, I didn't think this would present too much of a problem.
"Let's go Victoria?" I said.
"Mr. Medici--"
"Call me Vincent."
"Uh.. okay Vincent, I just want to apologize again. I know what you must be thinking."
I want to fuck you senseless?
"I doubt that." I said. "Now forget about the useless apologies. I already told you, the text isn’t a problem. The images aren't a problem."
"Images? You mean there's more than one?"
She looked genuinely surprised.
"Don’t worry. You'll get to delete them all, once I get what I need from you."
"And what is that exactly?"
"Come on, let’s go. I know a great place we can have lunch undisturbed."
"So do I. There's a park a block from here. It's a beautiful day for a hotdog outside in the fresh air."
She had to be kidding.
"I don’t think so. Let me take you somewhere that we can eat. Somewhere that has actual food."
"I insist. And I insist on paying as well."
And her point in insisting on this would be….?
Whatever.
"Okay Victoria, we'll do the hotdog, but I'm paying. That's my condition."
She agreed to that, reluctantly, and we left. The short walk to the park was uncomfortable. Quite frankly, it was hard to keep my cock under control knowing who was next to me. Her long hair blowing in the breeze, the little sashay I could see in my side vision…
I wanted her. More than ever.
We got our dogs, found a park bench and began to eat in silence. The frankfurter wasn’t quite as disgusting as I thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty good. Victoria took two small bites, swallowed and then began to speak.
"Vincent, about the pictures--"
"I told you, I'm not worried about the pictures. In fact, I kind of like them." I waited for her reaction. She didn’t move, but damn sure she didn’t miss it. "However, I still need to know how you got my number."
"I told you, I don’t exactly know how they got to you but what I can tell you is… is something about what happened to me last night and how those… images may have inadvertently ended up on your phone."
"You can do all that Victoria and believe me, I'm dying to hear all about it, but before you do, why don't we look at the address book in your phone and see if my number is in there or not."
"Of course." She said. The fiery attitude from earlier was all but gone. Ms. Victoria Price was being on her best good girl behavior.
It wasn't the good girl I wanted.
"Here, take it." She handed her phone to me and our fingers touched for the second time. The brief contact ripped through me carrying with it a huge rider of information about what it would be like to run my hands all over that tight body of hers. In a micro second of contact I imagined how she would react, how she would moan. I imagined what it would feel like when she put her hands on me, wrapped those fingers around my cock, put her other hand on my balls…
"Aren't you going to look at it?"
I had left her hanging, staring at her hands while my dick throbbed.
"Of course." I took it from her. "So tell me, why did you send this material from your phone and who exactly did you think you were sending it to?"
"I didn’t send it. A friend of mine did."
Some friend. I began scrolling down through her list of contacts to see if there was anyone I knew in there who had the foolish idea that it would be a good idea to put some kind of squeeze on me. If it was the case then I would look forward to coming down on them with everything I had.
"What's your friend's name?" I asked. She hesitated. "I asked for your friend's name." She still didn’t respond. Something wasn't right. I needed that name. "Is there a problem Victoria?" I continued scrolling down through the short list of names, but only one of them caught my eye.
"Who's 'Car Crash Asshole'?" I said.
"He's no-one. Just some guy who's trophy car I put a dent in yesterday."
I paused over that number but then moved on. Should've listened to my gut and taken a look at that number, it could have saved us a hell of a lot of time.
"I'm going to ask you one more time Victoria, who sent those pictures from your phone? What is your friend's name?"
She hesitated. Loyalty. An overrated concept, especially for the inhabitants of America's largest city.
"It was Clarissa. My friend Clarissa."
"Last name?"
"Clarissa Lovelock. She's just a crazy friend of mine. This whole thing was her stupid idea."
I wanted to slam the phone into the ground. I wanted to punch the tree that was next to the bench we were sitting on. I wanted to ask this woman, Victoria Price, how the hell she could have been so stupid as to hand over her phone to someone like her so-called friend.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move.
"Are you alright?" She asked me.
"I need to speak to your friend Victoria. We'll need to meet up, all three of us together."
"This has nothing to do with her. This is my mess and I'm going to take responsibility for it."
"Not an option. If you won’t contact her about this then I'll arrange it myself."
"Please Mr. Medici, if you'll just let me explain. This is all a huge misunderstanding. I'm working on a hardware patent that I think will be of great interest to you and your organization and I would never in a million years have dreamt of sending you that message."
She had mentioned an 'idea' in her drunken clip. I had assumed her idea had more to
do with the bedroom than the boardroom. This was a slight twist in the direction of our story alright, but not one that I had any intention of following.
I wanted to keep this simple. I wanted her in my bed, not on my books.
"Stop right there. Are you telling me that your friend sent me these pictures in order to capture my attention long enough for you to make me a sales pitch?"
She reddened. I shook my head and laughed.
"Now I've heard it all. People have done some crazy things to get my attention for their lame product ideas but this is truly a first."
Her face burned. Maybe it wasn't a sign of her guilt, but it was a sure sign that I needed to fuck her more than ever. She was perfect. I wanted to see that flush again but next time it would be with my dick inside her, screaming my name at the top of her lungs.
"It's not like that at all. If Clarissa did send this to you then it was an accident."
"An impossibility."
"Nothing is impossible Mr. Medici, this would be an extreme….statistical outlier on the borders of the possible."
"A cheap and pointless stunt would be more accurate Victoria. If your idea is worth anything it can go through the normal channels. Turing me on with your panties won't change the commercial or technical viability of any idea you claim to have."
I could see her heart was racing. This was going somewhere, just like it always did.
"I've been submitting the patent for consideration to investors for some time already but I wanted to hold off on Medici Investments - to get my pitch exactly right. Everyone knows you don't go for the investor you most want the first time. You have to work up to it. I only learned about your company in the past few weeks but as soon as I saw the profile I knew it was the one and that you were the investor most likely to really get my idea."
She sounded intelligent and plausible. Despite my better judgment I was becoming curious.
"If luring me in with your underwear really wasn't your, let's be honest here, unbelievably misguided plan, why did you talk about having an idea that you would do virtually anything for to get off the ground during your video clip?"
She looked mystified, as thought the video clip were news to her. I almost believed her too - she was quite convincing - but I wanted to see that pretty face burn again, and I knew exactly how to do it. She had been stupid enough to do what she did and now she would have to pay the price. I softened my voice.
"And another question Victoria, why on earth would you think I would be interested in your soiled panties? I mean, for God's sake."
Her expression was priceless, but only for a micro-second. I had pushed it too far. She tossed her lunch into the garbage, where it belonged, and jumped to her feet.
"Keep the damn pictures. You're obviously getting off on all of this. And good luck finding out who got a hold of your precious number because I have no idea who it was. Can I have my phone back please."
She put her hand out and waited.
She was riled, but I don't think she even knew why. When I told her the panties had turned me on that was fine. When I question my interest in them she flew off the handle. Nothing however, could have been further from the truth. Her underwear had been of intense interest to me since they photo-bombed their way into my phone.
In fact, I would have given a lot to find out if she was still wearing them, but obviously that wasn't a question she was ready to hear. Not yet anyway.
Women can be so simple and yet so complicated at the same time.
I looked up at her and considered my next move. I still hadn't got what I wanted. Clarissa couldn't have known my private number. She probably wanted it more than anyone else but would have no inkling how to obtain it without convincing someone to hand it over to her. No-one on that list that I could think of would be so stupid as to give it to her.
I also still wanted the woman who owned those panties and who had made that offer. The one who was bristling with hatred for me right now.
She was still waiting for her phone.
"Sit down Victoria. I didn't say I wouldn't listen to your story and if you want I'll even listen to your pitch."
That was it - the hook. She would do anything for the pitch if she really was an inventor.
I handed her the phone and she sat down. Slowly.
I knew it.
In her text she had offered me those panties for ten thousand dollars and the opportunity to present her 'ideas' to me. I had assumed of course, that they were sexual ideas, not entrepreneurial. She had also described in some detail what she would do if I was prepared to listen to her and how she would satisfy my every need, no matter how unorthodox, as long as I was willing to make a serious investment in her project. Again, I had assumed this was drunken double entendre, not the worst attempt to get pitch time in front of an investor in the history of venture capital.
Knowing now that she was willing to satisfy me in exchange for investment in a genuine product made me hard again. Pitch ideas and erections usually occupied very different spaces in my mind. This was quite bizarre.
I watched her put her phone away and then sit, looking down at her knees, tightly pressed together in her prim little receptionists outfit.
This woman and the one in the video were hard to reconcile - all those filthy thoughts coming out of that neat little head seemed so incongruous. I wanted to see what else would come out of that mind.
I was becoming as interested in her patent as I already was in her panties.
I took a deep breath. This was a risk, but then again, all of my best investments so far had been huge risks.
"Before you tell me about your business idea, explain to me in the simplest terms possible exactly what were you thinking when you let someone send photos of you and your underwear to a complete stranger."
She finally sat down and took a moment to collect her thoughts. I was dying to hear how anyone could explain that level of stupidity. This was going to be good. Far better than listening to legal drone on about project technicalities and tax loopholes I didn’t give a damn about.
"It’s like this," she said, "I had a bad day yesterday. First I had that dumb fender bender and then I got news that my patent had been turned down by Lombard and Day Investments."
I laughed at that one.
"Lombard and Day wouldn't know a good investment if it walked up to them and shoved its hands down their pants. Excuse the analogy. Why the hell did you go to them?"
"Like I said, I didn't know you existed until last week and when I called up to get details of how to submit I was totally blown off by the person who picked up the phone."
That could easily be. We have a good filtering system. I figured her idea must be a lame duck if this was the case.
"Go on." I said.
"When I got the temping job I in your building I figured that could be a way in. You know, get to know someone from saying good morning them, being polite, friendly, strike up a conversation--"
"Sending them dirty pictures." I couldn’t resist.
She looked down at her knees again, still burning. It was the cutest thing and I wanted to die - but not before boning her furiously in my bed.
"I'm sorry, I said. That was mean. Keep going, I'm listening."
She took a deep breath and continued.
"So it's like this, I'm short on my rent again this month and the guy I rear-ended happened to be driving a Bugatti Veyron 16.4 model? I gather this is some kind of supercar and the guy was talking about thousands of dollars in repairs."
The Bugatti Veyron line extended to only 350 cars. The 16.4 Grand Sport line included only 150 in total. I own one of them so I should know. There are a handful of them in Manhattan and I know pretty much all of the owners. Assholes in the majority. Most of them shouldn't be allowed out on the road on a bicycle let alone a Bugatti.
"Has he contacted you with a price tag on the repair work?"
"He didn't take my number. He just gave me his and told me to contact him about payment.
"
That didn’t sound right. Something was definitely wrong with that.
"Let me see your phone again?"
"What for?"
"I want to see that car crash number. Not many people own cars like that and I know most of them. You'll be lucky to get away with a bill of less than ten thousand dollars if you left a scratch on it."
"Ten thousand." She went visibly pale, but I wasn't exaggerating. I hardly ever took mine out in Manhattan, in fact I was considering selling it, but I did know what repairs to those babies cost.
She handed her phone to and I scrolled down to her car crash entry. I scanned it quickly and gave the phone back to her.
"Don’t worry about the bill." I said. "I know the owner of that car."
"You do?" She said with the biggest, sexiest eyes I've ever seen.
I nodded. I surely, surely did.
Her demeanor changed.
"So? What are you going to do, ask him to forget about his ten thousand dollar repair bill because the idiot who dinged his small dick mobile is one of your employees?
'Small-dick' mobile? Some of the attitude I had seen earlier that morning had returned. My natural instinct was, of course, to tame that filthy little mouth of hers.
"This isn’t your problem Vincent, I can pay my own bills, as long as he's reasonable and doesn't mind being paid in installments then he'll get his money."
"Do you think someone who owns a Bugatti will accept payments of fifty bucks a month on a debt he's owed?"
She thought about it for a moment.
"He'll have to. Unless I can find someone dumb enough and rich enough to pay ten grand for a pair of cheap, used panties."
She was joking of course but she was also looking right into my eyes when she said it. I heard my hear pound in my chest and felt everything else slow down around me. My heart was the only sound I could hear. The moment was as intense as that first big investment I had ever made, risking everything on a crackpot inventor who had the worst track record in history but one of the cleverest inventions I had ever laid eyes on. I made my first millions out of that investment alone.
Then the words came out.
"I want them."
Her eyes never left mine. She didn’t move, she didn’t speak.
WEAK Part One: A Thornhill Road Romance Page 4
