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