Billionaire's Auction: Uncovering the BBW (2 page)

When the day was he helped the staff stack the last few rows of chairs, finished an invoice and went to find Cartwright. He was in back, his feet on the desk that had been his makeshift command center for the day. An open bottle of scotch sat just out of reach, and having only known the man a few hours Dawn could still tell he was upset.

He seemed totally drained of his normal energy. His tie hung loose around the collar of his shirt and he fiddled with one of his tablets.

“Uh oh.” Dawn said, taking a few cautious steps into the room and setting her purse on the table.

“There’s nothing here.” He said, tossing the tablet onto the desk and rubbing his temples.

“Keep at it boss. You’ll find someone.”

“Ten thousand girls, probably two hundred interviews… and absolutely nothing.

“Well if you’re looking for a girl who is one-in-a-million you’re going to have to do this about a hundred more times.”

He sighed.

“And there’s no one you haven’t seen yet?” she asked.

He shook his head ‘no’, but picked up the tablet anyways.

“That’s weird…” he said to himself after a scrolling through the data. “The top result is coded.”

“Coded?”

“Yea… technically the tests need to be anonymous; otherwise it violates some sort of human testing law. I don’t know, the lawyers explained it to me. But still… the software should have identified the match with a name after the scoring for easy review.”

“So you can’t figure out who it is?”

He shook his head “No, I just need to…” he tapped the screen again, inspected it, and then typed something “enter the code into the database and…”

His eyes went wide at what he saw. He looked up at Dawn, back at the tablet, then at Dawn again. A smile crept across his face and he slid the tablet across to her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She said “Is this some sort of joke?”

He stood, a new light in his eyes.

“Come on.” He said, holding out his hand.

She took it and let him lead her to one of the interview rooms. The hallways of the big center were nearly empty now, and the lights made loud metallic clanks as they switched off for the day. The interview room was decorated like some quaint Italian café and stepping inside gave the mind a reeling sense of change and travel.

He gestured at a chair and then he sat across from her. They glanced around then back at each other, a long pause before they broke into laughter again.

“So tell me about yourself.” He finally said.

“Uh.” She mumbled.

“You’ll have to do better than that!” he said playfully.

“And who says I
want
to
.
I never signed up for your contest! Tell me about
your
self.”

“Oh I’m just a guy who works too much and can’t get a date. “

“Self-pity as an opening line? I guess it’s not surprising!”

He laughed again, and she almost thought she could see the tension of the day’s disappointment leaving his face.

“No one else talks to me like that.” He said.

“Like what?”

“Like an equal. Like you aren’t applying for a job.”

“I already got the job.”

His eyes narrowed and his smile became telling. He examined her for a long moment.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Her heart raced. He hadn’t invited a single one of the day’s applicants to a second date.
Was he serious?

She laughed, and he raised an eyebrow.

“But I haven’t passed the test.” She said. Her white teeth contrasted with her red lipstick making her look devilish.

“Is that a no?” he asked.

“You were very specific about your qualifications, Mr. Cartwright. The process was perfect!”

“Well you’re my event manager, what are we missing?”

“Well I’ve taken your test.”

She set her eyes on his.

“And performed admirably I might add.”  He was leaning in now, all his attention on her.

“There’s the interview, which—“ she waved her hand “seems to be going well.”

He nodded. “A little confident, but yea.” 

She leaned in even closer. The café table was so small her hands were almost touching his.

“But there’s still the physical portion. You were very specific about that, you know.”

“Was I?” he said.

“Very.” She glanced at the mirror on the wall. After staring at the cookie cutter blondes all day she felt remarkable out of place. She took a lot of pride in her appearance but there was no way around it: She was different. Her cheeks were a little fuller. Her breasts voluptuous and beautiful, but a little too big for some. She didn’t notice it, but she also carried herself with a unique dignity. She had an air of something special… like some TV star she seemed to stick out against the background.

“And I have to say, I don’t exactly fit in with the other girls you chose.” She said.

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

She shrugged, and sat back, the devilish smile returning to her face. He pulled a pile of stickers from a pocket and handed one to her. It was a white square with the bold, black letters “42” on it. The girls had been assigned numbers to make the sorting an organization easier.

“Nuh, uh.” She said, not taking the speaker. “Like I said, I never applied. I’m not parading around for anyone today!”

He seemed confused so she snapped the sticker from his fingers, peeled off the label and leaned back in.

“I have an idea…” she whispered.

He leaned in conspiratorially and she slapped the sticker onto his shoulder.

“There.” She said.

She stood and he followed her, a little confused.

“Well, my work day is over and I have a hell of a drive ahead of me.” She said, turning to leave.

“Hey wait!” he called after her as she made her way down the hallway “that’s not fair!”

“What?” she said.

“You never gave me a rating!” he pointed at his shoulder.

“If I ever want you to hire me again, I think that’s a terrible idea.”

“Go to dinner with me.”

“Fine, you’re a six!” she said.

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in as long as I can remember.”

“Okay a 7.”

“Come on!” he nearly shouted “That has to get me higher than a seven.”

“This is strictly physical, remember!” then she sighed, realizing the joke may have gone too far. “Alright, fine.” She said, walking back to him.

She looked him over and bit her tongue. He was stunning, truly. The way his blue eyes seemed to dig into her – there was an understanding in those eyes that almost seemed supernatural. His face, a little narrow, was perfect in an imperfect way and his body… even through the casual business wear she could see the outline of tight muscles. Any girl would have labelled him a 10, but something felt so
dirty
about the idea. How could a man who has everything have
that,
too. It was unfair.

She clicked her tongue.

“I just don’t know. I think I’m going to need to see the swimsuit portion.”

He laughed at that.

“What? All the girls did!” she said sternly.

He coughed.

“I don’t have a swimsuit!”

She shrugged and turned to walk away.

“Wait!” he said, and when she turned back he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

Not a word was said, and by the time the last button was free she started to feel bad.

“Fine.” She conceded in a whisper “Nine.” She said.

His eyes held hers. He was so close she could feel his soft breathe on her face.

“Okay 10.” She added, almost silently.

“Your turn.”

She could feel her cheeks flush. Neither of them were smiling now. A long moment passed as her eyes darted across his face, searching for a clue to his plans but there was none to be found. His muscled chest rose and fell and she could see goosebumps coursing up the soft, white skin of his neck.

“I’m sorry.” He said, finally breaking the tension “That was inappropriate, we should—“ he trailed off, leaning down to pick up his shirt.

But she couldn’t move.

He stood back up, concerned now.

Her heart raced. This was the moment. She saw it. She remembered every choice in her life she had failed to make… that feeling of destiny, and then the sickening rush when you knew it had passed you by. This was one of those moments. Another rush shot through her and her vision blurred for a moment as her hand made its way to her shoulder strap.  She pulled it free and the cool night air bit into her naked shoulder.  Then, without thinking, she lowered the second strap and felt her blouse fall loosely down her body, crumpling around her feet. Not knowing what else to do she smiled and stepped forward, kicking the blouse free.

They were inches apart now. He couldn’t see her body if he wanted to from that distance, but he didn’t step back. His eyes never left hers.

“Come to dinner with me.”

“Nah.” She whispered.

He took her cheek in his hand and kissed her.

They slammed into the wall, and a framed poster fell crooked with a rattle. Suddenly her passions were coming to a head. The job was forgotten, her fears and disillusion gone. She didn’t care if she never made another penny off this fantastic and strange man.

Work could wait.

He lifted her up and slammed her onto a foldout table sending a heap of tablets and paperwork skittering across the floor. Her skirt got caught underneath, and she could feel his smooth skin on her legs as the fabric pulled higher.

She looked into his blue eyes and a wave of fear shot through her, sending butterflies tumbling around her stomach. It seemed to mix with the uncontrollable desire to be touched, felt, and desired. She kissed him back, and her arms wrapped themselves around his powerful back.

“Why?” She said. “Why me?”

“After”

She nodded.

He moved closer. The dresser shuttered.

His breath went heavy, and his hand found its way to her spot. It was wet, she knew that, and she knew that he knew too. His touch was electrifying, and emotions she had been craving but never recognized started to pour forth. The tension of the day relieved like a hard to scotch itch.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He took her hand again and led her into another of the tiny interview rooms. This one was oddly western themed and when she saw it her eyes went wide and it was all she could do not to burst out laughing.

“Okay, the next one!” he said with a smile of his own.

They crashed into the next room – a beautiful bar scene flickering with dim, golden light. He lifted her again, dropping her gently onto the low rise bar top, fiddling with the button of her skirt. She reached down and helped him, sliding out of the thin fabric with a smile. He kissed her neck, and his light stubble tickled her. She let out a little laugh, pushed him back  and ran a cool finger down his muscled chest. 

Soon his belt was off. Then his pants… then the underwear.

His cock sprung out from the elastic waistband of his boxers and her hand found it. Every other memory of the night had vanished in an instant – every memory she ever had vanished when she felt it. It was huge, thick. Throbbing. She traced it upwards and it seemed to go on for miles. He unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the ground between then, and her nipples hardened as they touched the cool night air.

He started to kiss his way down her neck. His lips found her breasts, her nipples, and his hands caressed ever part of her. He kissed lower, and lower, until she grabbed his hair in a playful tuft and pulled him back up for another deep kiss.

“I don’t have time for that.”

Instead she pulled him closer, finding his cock with one hand and pulling it to her wet pussy. She felt it on her lips, and she knew she would have him. Nothing could stop her now; she
needed
him inside of her with every fiber of her conscious being. She couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. The desire to be filled was too huge, the desire to feel their bodies intertwined as one intoxicating. He plunged his cock inside of her. She felt it stop, resisting for a moment of pain and pressure before pushing deeply into her.

She let out a moan, and suddenly all she knew was pleasure, waves of it. He pushed himself into her again and again. The fake bar rocked underneath her, but his powerful arms held her steady as her back arched at the new sensations. She could feel the wet juices dripping down her leg; she could feel his breath on her neck. She held his back, and felt his muscles move as he fucked her.