Her Billionaire's Erotic Rules (#2 The Mansion): Erotica (Erotic Sex Stories)

Her Billionaire’s Erotic Rules – (#2 The Mansion)

The driver showed up promptly at
7:00 p.m. on Friday, having made a courtesy call 15 minutes prior to his
arrival.  Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, a silver limo glided to a halt in
front of my apartment building.  Due to the length of the limo, the driver had
to double-park behind a row of parked cars.  Fortunately, I was watching for
him and ran out with my overnight bag containing a change of clothes and other
personal items.  I could see some of my neighbors grilling on their balconies
and playing with their kids on the front lawn - stopping to stare as the driver
opened the back door for me.  I was thankful that they couldn’t see me laughing
at their dumbfounded expressions behind the tinted glass as we whisked away.

 I sunk back into the plush,
leather seat and took in the luxurious surroundings:  the muted lighting, the
wood paneling on the doors, the flashing lights and LEDs from various
electronic gizmos.  I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of leather.  The
absolute silence was comforting; there was no engine rumble and no exterior
noise from traffic.  I felt like I was in a state of commercially-induced
nirvana, calm and clear-headed.

Since the meeting with T. G., the
days had been filled with anticipation and mounting excitement.  It was like a
switch had been turned on and I couldn’t turn it off if I’d wanted to.  I felt alive. 
My life had meaning, purpose and all obstacles had been removed.  I was afraid
that when Friday finally arrived, I would be told that there had been a change
of plans and that I should return to my department and my dreary existence. 
But the plan hadn’t changed and now I was racing at full throttle toward my
destiny.

The driver lowered the tinted
glass between us to inform me that it would be a 45-minute drive and that I was
to help myself to the bar, the TV or the sound system.  “Mr. Herron did ask
that you listen to a recorded message he left you.  Whenever, you’re ready,
just pick up the telephone and press the red light.  I’ll get back to the road
now.  Buzz if you need anything, Miss.”  With that, the glass rose and I was
again in my own private world.

I started to reach for the phone,
but then thought, Wait a minute - I think I will help myself to the bar and
proceeded to do so.  There was a tempting assortment of bottled drinks, but
when I saw the lemon and lime wedges that someone had gone to the trouble to
prepare, I decided to have a gin and tonic.   Leaning back and taking a sip, I
slipped on the headset and pushed the flashing light.  Now I was ready.

“Hello, Rachel.  T. G. here.  I
hope you’ve given some thought to what we talked about the other day.”  (Yeah,
like I’ve thought about anything else!)  “I’m looking forward to getting to
know you better and I think it’ll be fun…and educational, as they say.  Enjoy
the ride.”

My heart was racing and I think
that I actually swooned.  At any rate, I reclined on my side, kicked my legs up
on the seat and got comfortable.  I sipped at my drink and played the recording
again, feeling the same shiver surge through my body as I had the first time. 
I looked up at the clouds passing by outside the window. 

Sometimes fairy tales come true, I
thought.

I’d had time since the interview
to second-guess myself and the situation.  I could imagine what some might say
if I’d told them about T. G.’s offer or, certainly, the sex, so I didn’t share
anything with anyone.  Was I being used, or exploited?  Was I little better
than a whore, prostituting myself for a shot at the big time?

Well, I didn’t feel like a whore. 
I felt like someone who had just graduated from college with thousands of
dollars in student loan debt, who was job hunting in one of the most
competitive career fields during one of the worst recessions in history and who
was holding down two jobs – one of which paid nothing – and barely covering my
bills.  If the odds are stacked against you, then any advantage you can acquire
helps.  I was certain that if T. G. desired a courtesan, he could afford the
very best.  He saw something else in me.  It was sexual, for sure and maybe he
got an extra thrill by having an inappropriate relationship with a subordinate,
but maybe, just maybe, it was me.  The person I am, or something he saw in me. 
And if that meant becoming his little sex toy until he was bored with me, then
fine; as long as it was mutually beneficial.

I slugged down the rest of the gin
and tonic and decided to have another.  I searched the satellite stations and
settled on some smooth, jazzy kind of torch song.  The woman’s voice, the spare
piano and string section made for a languid, sensual mood.  I slipped my shoes
off, closed my eyes and thought of the possibilities which lay ahead.

Okay, I conceded, maybe I was just
a bit whorish, after all.

After driving through a heavily
wooded area and down a private road which ended at a barricade, manned with
uniformed guards, we were greeted with a panoramic view of “the house,” a huge,
rambling mansion surrounded by a lush, green landscape.  Beyond the residence,
I could see horses gathered in a pasture.  There was a helicopter parked on a
helipad on one side of the residence, its blades twirling lazily in the breeze.

It was exactly how I’d pictured a
billionaire would live.

A female staff member greeted me
at the door.  “Mr. Herron and his guests are on the patio.  Follow me,
please.”  We walked through a large sitting room and a living room dominated by
a grand piano.  Artwork and tapestries hung on the walls and display cases with
photographs caught my eye.  I could have spent hours poring over the
decorations and furnishings, but then we arrived at a pair of glass doors.  My
guide opened the doors and I walked onto the sunlit patio.  T. G. and an older
man and a young woman were seated at a round glass table.  T. G. rose and
greeted me with a hug.

“Rachel, I’m so glad you’re
here.”  He gave me a light kiss on the neck and a shiver ran down my spine. 
“Let me introduce you to everybody.  This is my old friend – I’m sorry, my
friend, Neville and his friend Simone.”   Neville looked to be in his fifties,
with a large belly that caught on the table when he rose to shake my hand.

“That’s right, don’t be calling me
your ‘old’ friend, mate.  Pleased to meet ya, Rachel,” he said in a thick
Australian accent, while vigorously shaking my hand.  “Heard a lot about ya,
most of it good, yeah.”  His eyes squinted and a big smile stretched across his
face.  “And this is my fellow traveler, Simone.  This is her first time in the
States, ain’t it, doll?”  Simone stood and leaned forward to shake my hand. 
She was beautiful, with caramel colored skin and long, frizzy hair pulled back
in a ponytail.

“That’s a beautiful dress,” I
said.  It was a floral pattern with a low-cut top and straps.  The flowers were
large, tropical fauna, scarlet and violet; very exotic, like Simone herself.  
I couldn’t help noticing the way her breasts swayed as we shook hands.

“Thank you.  And you look nice,
too.  Very comfortable.”  Her voice had a slight lilt to it, an accent that I
couldn’t quite place.  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”  The sun was nearing the
tree line, and shadows from the trees and a distant barn spilled across the
grass.  I nodded.

A young man in a black polo shirt
and khakis appeared as I sat down.  “Would you like something to drink,
ma’am?”  I looked around and saw that T. G. and Neville were drinking beer. 
Simone had what appeared to be a daiquiri in front of her.

I decided on a beer.  T. G. said,
“Now, don’t feel obliged to drink this Australian swill they call beer just because
we are.”  I laughed and repeated my order and a long, elegant glass appeared,
with just a minimum of foam on top.  He resumed his place with other servers
gathered at a long table bedecked with serving trays.  T. G. leaned over and
told me he’d join me whenever I cared to get something to eat.

“Good girl,” Neville exclaimed. 
We all clinked glasses and sipped our drinks.  For the next ten minutes,
Neville kept up a steady flow of jokes and wise cracks and it was easy to see
why T. G. enjoyed his company.  He, too, was a successful businessman,
beginning as a music promoter.  In the course of his tales, it seemed that he’d
dabbled in just about everything.  As enjoyable as his company was, though, I
couldn’t help but think that I preferred T. G.’s quiet reserve to the raucous
repartee of the Aussie.

“I met Simone during a photo shoot
for one of our ad campaigns.  Couldn’t let her go without plying my charm.  Be
damned if it didn’t work!  I mean, look at her face.  Those cheekbones!  Of
course, what really sold me was her posing in a swimsuit.  Those breasts!  Come
on, Simone.  Show them what I’m talking about.”

Simone looked down demurely,
smiling.  Looking up, her eyes flashed and she asked, “Would you really like to
see them?  I’m tipsy enough, you know.”  We all laughed and encouraged her to
show us.  She stood up and walked over to T. G.  She undid the dress straps and
bent forward, her round, dark breasts spilling out into her hands.  We made
admiring sounds and she stepped over to give me a closer look.   “Go ahead and
touch them, Rachel.  They are 100% real.  Go on.”

I felt a little awkward, but we
were all getting loose and I didn’t want to put a damper on the fun.  I placed
my hands under her breasts and squeezed them slightly, like examining produce. 
They were soft yet heavier than I expected.  “They’re very nice,” I said.  “I’m
jealous.”  Which was partly true, as I’m somewhat bereft in that area.

“That’s lovely,” Neville said
wistfully, his face resting on his hand, enjoying the vision before him.

T. G. cleared his throat and
looked at me.  “I happen to think that your breasts are perfect.”  Simone
gathered her boobies, nestled them back in her dress and walked to her seat. 
“And she has what may be the world’s most perfectly shaped ass.”

I blushed.  “Do tell!” Neville
exclaimed.  “That’s a bold statement.  Well, come on, darling, let’s all have a
look.  Put up or shut up.”  I didn’t know how to react to this.  Simone clapped
her hands and said, “Yes, yes, show us your perfect ass, Rachel!”

I stood and took a gulp of my
beer.  I was feeling the effect of the beer and the gin and tonics, but I also
found the naughtiness of our little gathering intoxicating as well.  I was
wearing jeans that fit me like a second skin, topped with a checked cotton
blouse.  I turned with my back to them and bent slightly, shaking my tail
feather provocatively.  They clapped and hooted, and their response helped buoy
my ego somewhat.  I sat down.

“Oy, that’s not fair, Rachel,”
Neville protested.  “Simone bared her tits and you’ve only showed us your
pants.  Come on now, fair’s fair!”

“He’s got a point, Rachel,” T. G.
chided.  “Go on; show them your bare backside.”

“Maybe later,” I blushed.  “I’m
not drunk enough yet.”  Moans of disappointment greeted my decision, but I held
firm.  I glanced at T. G. and saw that he was no longer smiling.  In fact,
there was an unmistakable expression of annoyance.  He stood up and suggested
that everyone get something to eat.  “We’ll need to fortify our bodies for the
night ahead.  Rachel, would you like to see the stable?  I’d like to show it to
you before it gets too dark.”

“Sure,” I responded.  I wanted to
diffuse any tension between us by being completely agreeable.  He led me to a
golf cart and off we went to the stable as the sun crept behind the trees.

“Do you like horses?” he asked, as
we walked through the stable.  We went into a tack room where saddles lined the
walls.  He poured some green pellets from a jar into his hand.

“Actually, I’m scared to death of
them,” I admitted.  “The last time I rode one, it took off full speed and
almost threw me.  I haven’t been on a horse since.”

We walked the length of the stable
and stopped in front of one horse.  It lowered its head and T. G. stroked it,
holding the green pellets up to its mouth.  “That’s completely understandable. 
This is Sheba.  She was an ornery one when I first got her.  Didn’t think she’d
ever come around, but now she’s my favorite.  It just took a little more work
and discipline than the others did.”

He turned and looked at me,
smiling.  “You remind me of her a bit.  You’re headstrong, independent and draw
a line at what you will and won’t do.  And I respect that.”  His expression
changed and the smile disappeared.  “But I thought I made it clear that there are
things that I need from you, Rachel.  You’re here because I like you and think
that you’re worthy of my helping you to succeed.  All I ask is that for a short
while that you show your complete appreciation for this opportunity.  I don’t
want you to think about what other people will think or whether or not you find
my directives compatible with your sense of propriety.  I want you to respond
without thinking, without second-guessing, like a soldier whose commander has
given an order.  You don’t question, you execute.”

I looked down at the ground.  His
words, although not spoken sharply, penetrated my being.  He was not being
cruel, but I felt unworthy.  He put his hand on my shoulder.

“I will respect you more if you
are able to let go of your ego and comply with what I want.  That shows me that
I can count on you and that you trust and respect me.  If not, then we can end
it now and go our own two ways with no hard feelings.  I mean that.”