Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother) (5 page)

For me, it's a rarity, and I'm really wishing that
Randall had been more clear about where we were going. His
instructions do tend to be vague from time to time, and in this case
I'd have liked a heads up so that I could have dressed appropriately.

When I voice my concerns, however, he only tells me that
I look delightful and that I'm by far the most beautiful looking
woman here, jeans or no jeans.

As always, his charm brings a smile to my face and helps
me forget about my own minor insecurities.

When the wine is delivered, Randall takes some time
testing it and tasting it and very much appearing the connoisseur
before finally nodding to the waiter and letting him fill both our
glasses. I've never been a huge drinker, but this wine is certainly
agreeable to my palate.

For a little while we talk pleasantries, and Randall
inquires politely about my mother, who he met a few weeks ago, and my
father, who he hasn't met and never will.

He asks me if I've told them what I'm doing, and I say
no.

“
Good thing too,” he says. “Parents are protective
to the point of being overbearing and constrictive. I hope you're not
feeling ashamed of what you did the other night?”

I shake my head.

“
Not really. I suppose I feel a bit strange, but
that's natural, right?”

“
Completely natural. It would be odd if you didn't.”

We order our food, and continue to the small talk until
our main dishes arrive and Randall has seemingly exhausted his
ability to engage in such pointless chit chat.

“
Right, Ashley, so let's speak about your
performance.”

I find my body reacting to his words, my throat going a
little dryer, my heart beating a little faster. I take a sip of wine
and set my eyes on his, which are smiling.

“
I've had some feedback, and the general impression is
that you did very well. You are, as most people have said, a
natural.”

“
Well, that's good...”

“
It is good, because it puts more money in your pocket
and mine.”

He pulls out his phone, and taps on the touchscreen a
few times. Somehow the sight of his old fashioned suit and high tech,
modern cell phone makes me giggle inside.

“
Right, with your base rate and tips combined, your
overall rate for the night came to a little over fifty thousand
dollars.”

I drop my fork to my plate, still stuck with a juicy
piece of chicken.

“
You're joking...”

“
No joke my dear. One client in particular offered a
fantastic tip, although I won't divulge the amount. Suffice to say,
it's the highest opening for a new performer we've ever had.”

“
Wow.”

“
Wow indeed.”

Fifty thousand dollars! That's way more than I was
earning per year at my junior editors job!

“
But why?” I ask. “Why so much money. I'm not a
celebrity or a porn star or anything.”

“
It's not about that, Ashley. The money seems like a
lot to you, but to these men it's nothing. Many of them are
billionaires who earn millions of dollars every single day. They
could have fifty thousand fall out of their back pocket and will have
earned it back by the time they bend down to pick it up.”

He has a long sip of wine, before clipping his fingers
at the nearest waiter and gesturing for him to bring another bottle.

“
Ashley, my dear, soon your own perception of money
will change. Some of our performers are now millionaires themselves
off the back of these shows. There's no reason why you won't be able
to do the same.”

Millionaire? Me? Just for having sex? It doesn't seem
feasible, possible. How can that be? Why would my pussy be worth so
much money?

“
I don't think I'll ever understand it,” I say,
finishing my inner dialogue out loud.

“
Well, believe me, you'll get used to it. This dinner,
for example, will cost me almost a thousand dollars. To you that
sounds exorbitant, yes?”

I nod.

“
Well, to me it's a drop in the ocean. It's the
equivalent of someone going to
McDonald's
or
Burger King
,
perish the thought. If you continue the way you're going, it will be
the same for you soon.”

I agree with him vocally, although inside I'm still
trying to figure out whether I'll ever think of a thousand dollars as
spare change.

“
Anyway, back to business. The money will be wired to
your account next week. Have you any idea what you're going to tell
your parents?”

“
Truthfully, no. But they're unlikely to even find out
and I'll be looking for a new apartment immediately as soon as I have
the money.”

“
I see. Good plan. Your mother did seem utterly
delightful. I question whether she'd understand if you told her the
truth.”

“
She won't,” I tell him. “And nor will my father.
I mean, what parent would? They still think I'm their innocent little
girl.”

“
Oh no, you've clearly blossomed into a sexually
adventurous young woman. And I'm sure you're the better for it. The
world certainly is.”

He laughs and continues to gulp his wine, while I
hastily send my eyes around the restaurant to make sure no one can
hear what he's saying. The sight makes him chuckle even more.

“
It's OK my dear, we're quite out of earshot of
anyone.”

The meal continues, our main dishes being removed and
desserts being brought out. Randall continues to talk, his loquacious
character coming to the fore, but most of what he's saying goes over
my head.

Because there's one thing, and one thing only that I'm
thinking about – my dream. Fifty thousand dollars for a half hour
of sex, and suddenly my dream is within grasping distance. And who
knows...a few more shows and maybe I'll be able to rent a studio and
begin working on my designs.

Fashion designer by day, sex performer by night.

Wow, how my world has changed.

I'm drawn from my thoughts at the end of the meal, when
Randall suddenly turns his attention back to business.

“
Are you able to perform this coming Tuesday?” he
asks me.

With only the briefest hesitation, I answer in the
affirmative.

“
Excellent. Paulo, your driver, will pick you up at
the same time as before. The process will be the same, except for one
thing – your partner will be different.”

“
OK.”

“
Now, let's enjoy the rest of this bottle of wine
shall we?”

He picks up the bottle, refills our glasses until it's
empty, and places it back on the table. Then he lifts his up, and I
follow, clinking them together.

“
To a prosperous relationship,” he says. “And...to
your delightful mother. She really was a lovely woman.”

He winks, and I laugh, suddenly feeling more alive than
I ever have.

Chapter Two

On the same day as I'm preparing to perform for the
second time, the money from my inaugural show appears in my bank
account.

I hate the old cliché of 'it hasn't sunk in yet' that
just about every Olympian utters when they win a gold medal, but
truly, seeing the sight of fifty thousand bucks in my account will
take a bit of getting used to.

Frankly, it seems like
monopoly
money right now,
like some sort of joke, a mistake by the bank that will be quickly be
rectified. I'm fully expecting to wake up later this week with my
account suddenly bare again. Or perhaps receive a phone call from the
bank manager apologizing for their egregious error.

Never in my life have I seen or had access to that sort
of money. It alone is life changing, enough to get me back on my feet
and searching for a new job if I want one.

But, right now, the thought of returning to regular paid
employment is farcical. Why bother when I can earn more than a years
salary with half an hour of incredible sex?

No. It's my dream of designing my own fashion label that
has truly taken hold.

But, of course, today I'll be performing once again, and
so my mind is split between the wonder and joy of seeing the money in
my account, and the inevitable nerves that accompany a big
performance.

No matter how many times actors and sports stars head
out onto stage or the giant arenas they play in, they are always
nervous. So now, even though I've already been there, done it, and
got the t-shirt, my heart is rampaging and my mind spinning.

It would help if I was fucking Brett again. The guy was
dynamite, and we quickly got to know each other's rhythm. But it's
not Brett, it's someone new. And, well, that's enough to make me have
to catch my breath every so often during the car journey into
Manhattan.

Once more, the driver, who Randall has revealed is
called Paulo, takes me the distance without saying a word. I do
wonder how much he knows of what I'm doing and what goes on in the
grand mansion near Central Park. The cheeky looks he gives me
suggests he knows enough.

When I reach my dressing room, I'm once more greeted
with the sight of Charlotte and Matilda, the same two hair stylists
and make up artists who got me ready last time.

So, I shower, wash myself all over, and let them pamper
and prepare me with such meticulous care that soon I'm transformed
from 'hot' to stunningly beautiful. My hair, however, isn't wavy this
time but straight, and my make up is slightly different, bringing
out the light blue of my eyes better than before.

I'm also dressed not only in sexy panties and bra, but
in a small skirt, a white shirt, and high heels that make me look a
little slutty.

Perhaps the audience have requested such a look this
evening?

This time, however, Randall doesn't greet me or take me
to the stage door at the end of the corridor. I merely walk it alone,
feeling just as nervous as before, and step through without any words
of support and reassurance outside.

Now, it's seems, I'm already trusted to know what to do.

A man waits for me. And he's different too.

He wears a mask, like Brett, with his jaw and mouth
exposed but his face obscured from his nose upwards. He stands
taller, stronger looking. He's also dressed, unlike before, with a
pair of black pants and a white shirt adorning what looks to be a
perfectly crafted frame.

A smile rises on my face, and I move forward, noting the
alternations of the room as well. The bed is still there, but this
time the sheets are a dark red. There's a lower lighting in the room,
more of a romantic, moody atmosphere that creates small shadows here
and there.

Music plays lightly, setting the scene, and in the
corner candles burn, letting off the smell of incense. The entire
room feels more amorous, less neutral and, frankly, lifeless as it
was before with nothing but the bed and white sheets and the bright
lighting above.

The man ahead of me stands waiting for me by the bed. He
doesn't advance like Brett did. He just waits until I reach him,
unmoving.

Not a word is spoken between us as his hands start
tracing over my face. His fingers run along my lips, brush my hair
out of the way of my eyes, tickle down my neck in a sultry, delicate
fashion.

Soon they move onto my shirt, unbuttoning the top slowly
until my cleavage is revealed. His fingers snake inside, beneath my
bra, running over the top of my breasts and teasing at my hardening
nipples.

He opens my shirt, but leaves it on, and I do the same
to him, revealing a body tightly packed with firm, hard muscle. He
moves me onto the bed, and sits me down. His hands disappear under my
skirt and reappear gripping my pink panties, pulling them down my
legs, over my heels, and discarding them to the floor.

Leaving my skirt on, he pulls my legs open and his head
disappears between my thighs. The sharp buzz of electricity zaps
through me like a shot as I feel the sudden, warm wetness of his
tongue meet with my folds, licking them up and down, moving around
the outside of my vagina and finishing at my clit.

Fingers join the party, diving inside me and coming out
sodden. They enter again and again, his digits and tongue and lips
all working in perfect unison to force my body to start shaking, my
mind to start whirling.

Everything inside me calls with joy, my throat already
gargling with salacious delirium. Sounds escape me that I've never
made, jolts of pleasure rush through me that I've never felt. And all
the while I forget that there's anyone watching at all.

I don't try to scream of moan for the sake of the
watching millionaires and billionaires. I do it because I have to,
because if I don't make those sounds I feel as if my body will
explode.

He develops such a rhythm that within only a few minutes
my entire structure is convulsing in the throes of an orgasm, my
pussy growing wetter and wetter and demanding more.