Excerpt 1



My alarm buzzed at 6.00am as it did every day.  I stretched sleepily and jumped out of bed, going over to my large windows with a fantastic view of the greenery that was the city of Atlanta.  I took in this view every day; it never got boring for me. But I didn’t have time to stand there and enjoy it for too long; today was weights day and I needed to hit the gym in my building before a long day at work.  I pulled on my sweat pants, a tank-top and my Nike sneakers then went downstairs, taking the regular elevators to the residents’ gym. 

My apartment was the premier penthouse in the Regent Oriental Hotel in Buckhead and I loved it.  Living here as a bachelor, I didn’t have to worry about additional staff; everything was readily available for my needs.

When I entered the gym, a few residents had already started working out and we nodded to each other in greeting.  I said a quick congratulations to a Hollywood movie director who’d just released a blockbuster, wore my headphones and began to run full blast on the treadmill for my twenty minute warm up.  The headphones were essential; if I didn’t wear them, everyone approached me to make inane small talk. I didn’t come to the gym for mindless chatter.  Unlike some of these wealthy show business people, my work wasn’t seasonal.  Every day was filled with endless challenges and decisions that needed to be made at all hours of the day and night. 

The only time I was unavailable to my staff was when I was training or fucking; and the latter wasn’t exactly inspiring right now.  I was seeing Nadine Bishop on and off.  I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a relationship, though she might have a different take on that.  We met a couple of times a week to fuck and that was basically it.  The sex was average and I often had to stifle a laugh when she dressed up for weird, kinky, role playing that did absolutely nothing for me.  This past Friday when I went to see her at her apartment and found her dressed in a bloody, vampire nurse’s outfit, no doubt paid for by the credit card I gave her, I had to fake an orgasm for the first time ever.  It was empowering to fake it convincingly, now that I think about it.

After I’d run hard for twenty minutes, I quickly completed the free weight circuit doing compound exercises.  A few over-friendly people came over to say ‘hi’ and as always, I made a show of fumbling with my iPod and headphones, as a huge hint to discourage future interruptions.

I spotted Mrs. Epstein across the room, eyeing me longingly as she always did.  She’d secured a giant payout from divorcing her millionaire older husband who was a friend of my father’s and a client of our company, Strauss Carter Financial Management. Her son Adam was my classmate back in high school and most of us boys back then were only friends with him so we could speak to his hot milf-mom.  Now in her fifties with bleached blonde hair and a fake tan, she was an aggressive cougar, constantly on the prowl for new victims to devour with her artificially plumped lips and sculpted body, thanks to multiple plastic surgeries. Despite her large, perfectly round double D sized breasts, she was petite; not over 5’3” and kept herself in tip top shape.  I had banged her for sport almost a year ago in her condo a few floors below mine, leaving her purring contentedly while I made my way out of there as fast as possible.  Ever since then, she’s been after me for round two; but I wasn’t biting. You don’t go for seconds with a high-mileage broad like Mrs. Epstein.

After I finished my work out, I nodded politely to the twin daughters of a hedge fund manager who were giggling and staring at me, then headed for the elevator. 

When the elevator doors were about to close, a deeply tanned hand with inch-long, pink talons, slipped between the doors and they automatically opened.  Mrs. Epstein slinked in, sliding her lustful eyes over me.  I smiled and moved back to make room for her, standing there with my towel around my neck and my hands in my pockets.  As soon as the elevator began to rise, she turned around and faced me, shamelessly placing her hand on my dick, grabbing it over my sweats.  I didn’t flinch or stop her because at that point, why the hell not? She wanted to shock me but all she got from me was a questioning smirk while I waited to see what she would do.

“So, Jonathan,” she began in her throaty voice, “when are we going to fuck?”

I felt my dick thickening in her hand and despite seeing her delighted expression, I knew for certain it wasn’t going to happen.

“Not any time soon, I’m afraid,” I replied, smiling down at her.

“They all say that, until they’ve had a taste,” she replied, trying to give me what I assumed was her best ‘bedroom-eyes’ look.

I snorted. “Been there, done that,” I reminded her, “and I still have the scratches to prove it,” I added conspiratorially, just as the elevator arrived at her floor.

“Are you going to let go?” I asked her, nodding down towards her hand on my dick.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, as she snatched her hand away and pranced out of the elevator to her apartment.  I knew she thought I’d follow, but I carried on up to my floor, stifling laughter at her latest attempt to lure me into her lair.

Excerpt 2

 

One Friday morning, Lena came to my office to talk.  She was wearing her figure hugging white skirt and a top that showed her cleavage; whenever she wore that skirt, I had an extra bad day.  I looked up from my laptop when she knocked on my open door.  Old fashioned manners had me standing up when she walked in.  Fuck; I hope she doesn’t see my immediate hard-on and read anything into it, I thought.  She paid no attention, her smile fixed on my face.

I cleared my throat and sat back down. “Yes Lena.  What is it?”

“Do you recall at the last department meeting you asked us to come up with ideas for long term business relationships?”

“Yes?”

“I came up with a new strategy and Mr. Baker suggested I should discuss it with you if you are not too busy?”

Why would fucking Baker set me up like that with no warning? I guess it’s not his fault; he’s not aware what Miss. Williams is like.

“Let’s hear it,” I replied, indicating the chair in front of my desk.

She sat down, with a little bounce in her cleavage and not seeming to notice what she’d just done to me, then proceeded to open her notepad.

“You know sometimes we do conferences and training sessions for managers of various companies, with the hope that when they’re making investment decisions in the future we are a primary consideration, right?”

“Go on.”

“I was thinking, perhaps we could start relationships even earlier than that.  When you said ‘long-term’, I had in my mind an idea that could take five, ten or more years to see the results of. 

My proposal is: why don’t we sponsor investment training workshops at the top colleges and universities? We could focus on final year students in business, economics and finance majors and give them two or three day training workshops during the summer for free, with the hope that these students will in future become decision makers when they start working. And because we’re already involved with them right from college, we’ll be the first company they think of doing business with.”

She paused, expecting me to say something.  I thought through her idea and gestured for her to continue.

“It’s an inexpensive way of promoting our business, really.  The account executives would conduct the workshops and the colleges would likely provide us with facilities to use for free.  So these college kids will grow up knowing all about Strauss Carter and I’m sure some of them would eventually come back to us once they are well placed to do so in a few years.”

I watched her looking at me expectantly.  What, did she expect me to praise her?  Her idea wasn’t at all as fantastic as she thought it was.  Of course it was an okay idea, but it wasn’t the answer to world peace. And this was my chance to shut her down and maybe finally get a human reaction out of her, instead of that fake angelic attitude she always had.

“That’s the most useless idea I’ve ever heard,” I began, shaking my head. “Did you really waste ten minutes of my time with this?”

Her smile disappeared instantly. Then I saw a flash of anger in the depths of her dark eyes as she stared into mine.

“Is that a rhetorical question, Mr. Carter?” she demanded through gritted teeth, evidently struggling to remain calm.

“What is?” I asked in return, having lost my track of thought, distracted by watching her possibly about to combust.

“You asked me if I really wasted your time; do you want me to answer that?”

Fuck. She was angry; and the idea of making her lose her temper went straight to my dick, making me painfully and inconveniently hard. At last there was a chink in the armor. I had to play.

“Yes,” I snapped as rudely as possible. “I want an answer.”

I held my breath as I watched her wage an internal battle with herself, as though she was deciding whether or not she should answer that question.  After a few moments, she looked away and blinked several times, possibly in an effort to regain composure. When she looked back at me, an impenetrable mask of calm had slipped into place and her anger had dissipated.

“You are right, sir,” she began. “I did waste your time and I apologize sincerely.” 

I could almost sense a slight mocking tone in her apology.  She stood up and I also stood automatically due to ingrained manners.

“Thank you for your time,” she said and she left the room immediately, with that taunting sway in her hips, her head held high.

Damn it.  I was pissed off and I didn’t know at what.  I ignored the voice in my head calling me an asshole.  So fucking what?  I put up with her every day, don’t I? I was perfectly happy before she came to my department and made my life hell.