Her Billionaire's Erotic Rules (#1 The Interview): Erotica (Erotic Sex Stories), page 1
Her Billionaire’s Erotic Rules – (#1 The Interview)
Before we entered the conference room for the interview, Nora Spell, the Executive Assistant, gave me one last going-over. She had me turn around slowly, appraising my appearance. Her hands stopped me once at mid-turn to brush some lint from my black blazer and again when my backside was to her. She ran her hand over my hip, pinching and pulling, as if to smooth the lines where my lavender silk blouse tucked into the skirt. She stepped closer and slid her hand under the blazer, grazing lightly along my buttocks, again as if smoothing the material.
“We want you to look your absolute best for Mr. Herron, don’t we?” I nodded affirmatively.
She smiled. “Well, I think Margaret did an excellent job outfitting you. I’ve worked with Mr. Herron for five years and I think I have a pretty good idea of what he finds appealing.”
I thanked her again for making the arrangements and for purchasing the suit. She held up her hand.
“Nonsense,” she said. “This all falls within our wardrobe budget, the same as it would for one of our on-air personalities. You’re not wearing pantyhose, correct?”
“No, I’m not,” I smiled. Nora had made that requirement quite clear during our first meeting to discuss a special project for which I was being considered. I assumed that this directive was based on some eccentricity of his or Nora’s and I didn’t think of it as anything unusual. Corporate dress codes can sometimes be quite esoteric.
“May I see what you are wearing, please?” I hesitated, giving her a quizzical look. “Your stockings, Rachel; pull up your skirt so I can see.”
I felt awkward, but complied. I grasped the skirt and pulled up on the hemline until it reached mid-thigh. I looked up at her, as if to say, “High enough?” but she motioned to keep going. Finally, she indicated that I could stop once my skin was visible above the stockings. My panties of course, were also visible.
“Very nice,” she said, admiringly. “I just needed to be certain. And the lavender panties were a good choice.” She lowered my skirt and ran her hands down my hips, smoothing again. “Well, are you ready? It’s time.”
We exited her office and she led us through the corridor. I guessed that Nora was in her late thirties. She was tall (statuesque, even), thin but not too thin and undeniably attractive. She possessed an air of authority that would be intimidating if she weren’t so pleasant. The hall was carpeted and absolutely still and I could hear the whisk of her nylons as she walked. Halfway down the corridor, she stopped and knocked on a door. A voice called out, “Come in.”
She allowed me to enter first, then followed and closed the door. A man I recognized as Mr. Herron was seated at the head of the conference table. He looked up from a folder and smiled, rising. He walked toward us and extended his hand to me.
“T.G. Herron. Glad to meet you, Rachel.” His hand was large, but his handshake was gentle and warm. I responded that the pleasure was mine, ending the sentence with “sir.”
“T.G., please,” he corrected. “Actually, we’ve met once before. Do you remember?”
My face flushed in response. Of course, I did. About a month ago, I was in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee, when I happened to look over my shoulder and saw Mr. Heron waiting for me to finish. I was so rattled that I poured coffee all over the counter. I’d pondered the reasons for my reaction many times since. First, I was shocked that the head of the network would be fetching his coffee himself. Doesn’t he have a lackey for that? Actually, I’d imagined that he’d have some executive dining area staffed with his own chef and barista to cater to his refreshment needs. I mean, the guy is a billionaire media mogul, for god’s sake! And to have him waiting patiently while some 25-year-old production assistant (and an intern at that!) goes through her ritual of pouring a half cup of coffee, then adding a splash of creamer, etcetera, was both mind-boggling and embarrassing.
But the most unnerving element was his appearance. Handsome, yes, but his face had a weathered, hard-worn texture and he practically radiated an aura of professionalism and yes, power. And this glow had diminished not one watt as he stood before me now.
“Yes, I remember. I had spilled the coffee that day. And you were so nice to me. I had tried cleaning the area and kept making it worse. And you apologized and said that you were making me nervous and left.”
He laughed. “Actually, I was impressed with your poise under pressure. I hope that the event broke the ice sufficiently that you’ll feel comfortable today. Why don’t you have a seat?” He waved his hand toward the far end of the conference table.
Nora pulled out the chair and pushed it in once I sat. She took a few steps back and remained behind me. T.G. held up the file he’d been reading.
“You have an impressive resume, Rachel. We’re glad that someone with your potential has come to work with the network. Internships are a valuable means of gaining experience before you make that first career decision. That first decision can determine a lot of things about your future. If you jump at the first chance you get, say, at a local station in a small market, you might be setting yourself up for a long, slow grind to work your way back toward a larger market or a network. What are your goals, Rachel?”
I reverted to job interview mode, hoping that I didn’t sound like it. “Well, since starting as a production assistant, I’ve become more interested in the production aspects of news pieces. Initially, I was more interested in the writing and I still am, or possibly easing into facing the camera, but I think working behind the scenes, organizing things, is something that I’d like to explore further.”
He seemed to be weighing this response before he spoke. “Well, you should keep your options open. I could see you as an on-air personality. You’re very attractive. Don’t be shy about it. True, we do tend to favor a certain type of look on our programs. What was that Don Henley phrase, ‘Bubble-headed bleached blondes”? He laughed. “It’s not my preference, by the way. Our analysts tell us that men like having the news reported and discussed by blonde, bimbo-ish types. For the record, I find brunettes, like you, much more attractive, especially those who wear glasses.”
I pulled at the rims of my glasses as I flushed. Did he really say that?
“Now, the truth is,” he continued, “that we have opportunities here that you won’t find elsewhere. Why? Because I say so! I can make it happen. I’m not here to promise anything Rachel, but I can say that I will give you an opportunity to leapfrog over your peers and establish yourself in the Big Leagues, if that’s what you’d like.”
I was awestruck and tried to find the words to express my gratitude. He held up his hand, indicating that I shouldn’t even try.
“I know that you’ve got the talent and the drive to succeed, Rachel. But I require more than that. I have to know that you’re willing to give everything you can to make this happen. I need a commitment. I need your loyalty. I need your blind obedience in order for this opportunity to get off the ground.”
I stood, ready to declare my devotion and allegiance to this man but, again, he held up his hand.
“Don’t tell me, Rachel,” he said quietly. “Show me.”
Nora stepped forward and held my hand. She placed her other hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me toward the conference table. “Go to him,” she whispered. “Get on the table and go to him.”
I thought I misunderstood her. Was she telling me to crawl to him? But T.G., still seated at the far end of the table, held out his arms, gesturing like a parent to a child taking its first steps. His hands beckoned me to come forward.
Nora guided me up onto the table, first one knee and then the other. She pulled off my shoes and then gave me a light slap on the butt to propel me. I’m a very shy person and would have collapsed in laughter at the thought of how ridiculously unprofessional I must appear, but between Nora’s insistence and T.G.’s encouragement, I crawled along the table like someone who’d crossed a desert and had spied an oasis. I was compelled to move forward.
The conference table was at least twenty feet long. I had to crawl slowly along the hard surface to avoid putting pressure on my knees. I felt my skirt hike up to the middle of my thighs. Nora walked alongside of me, keeping pace. I stared straight ahead at the handsome, smiling man who had just offered me a future filled with opportunity and recognition. Finally, an opportunity to advance within the corporation. All I had to do was crawl toward it.
“Stop!” he said, suddenly, as I neared the middle of the table. “Now turn around facing the other way.” I pivoted around, my backside facing him. “Continue toward me, facing that way.” I did as he instructed, crawling even slower now. Trying to appear as graceful as I could under the circumstances, I shifted to one hip, one butt cheek out, extended my leg backward, then shifted to the other side.
“Magnificent,” he declared. “Rachel, you have an ass that men would fight wars for!” I giggled at that. “Shhhh,” he scolded. “Just keep coming back, slowly; that’s it.” I knew I was nearing the end of the table when I felt his hands clasp my buttocks, bringing me to a halt. His fingers squeezed and kneaded the roundness of my butt and stroked my hips. I felt like I might faint.
“I have to see your ass,” he whispered hoarsely. “Some bodies look better clothed, but I have a hunch that’s not the case with you.” H
“Gorgeous! Nora, come look at this.” Nora walked out of my view. I heard an intake of breath behind me and then a hand touched my lower back and trailed down and around my ass. Then a firm slap on my right ass cheek sent a tremor through my whole body.
I heard a chair sliding along the carpet and his body pressed against my back, enveloping me in an embrace. His hands clasped and squeezed my breasts, as he pulled my bottom against himself. “What are they?” he asked. “34B’s?”
“Yes!” I choked. My blood was racing and my body felt inflamed. I was being mauled and I loved it!
“Lie down on your back, now,” he said. I did as I was told, crumpling onto the table. My knees dangled over the edge and I felt my legs being parted. “Help her!” he said to his assistant. Nora took my hand and brought it down to my panties, rubbing it along my pussy. When she let go, I continued to rub myself, pushing the silky material between my lips, in and out. I stared at the ceiling. Had the lights gone down? It seemed darker in the room. Or had I been transported to another place, to some laboratory of depravity where I was a specimen to be observed and probed?
Nora leaned over me, her face inches from mine and began unbuttoning my blouse. She leaned closer, her breath warm on my face, smiling as her hands undid my blouse. Her hand slipped inside the blouse and along my belly, then snaked inside the cup of my bra, caressing my breast and squeezing the nipple. Her lips brushed mine and I breathed into her mouth. At the same time, I felt T.G.’s mouth envelop my damp fingers, his tongue running over them, hungrily licking the juices they’d stirred. Then, precisely as Nora’s lips met mine, he pulled aside my panties and covered my cunt with his mouth. His tongue entered me and curled and wiggled within me and my mouth replicated those motions in Nora’s mouth. I began to fuck her mouth with my tongue as the excitement in my pussy boiled over. I bucked my hips and moaned and ground my pelvis against T.G.’s mouth. Finally, kicking and quivering, I came.
Nora disengaged, giving my lips one brief kiss before rising. I lay flat on my back, spent, in another world, but saw her glide over to T.G., who now stood upright. They embraced and she kissed and licked at the damp sheen on his face. He continued to rub his hand along my stocking leg, as if to calm and console me. As she kissed him, Nora unzipped his pants and exposed his swollen cock. A strand of fluid dripped, dangling from the purplish head.
“I need release, Rachel,” he said evenly, as if to say. You know what to do. Pulling myself up on to my knees, I positioned myself in front of him, mouth open. Nora rubbed his cock back and forth and then lowered it to my lips. His cock splashed and erupted, pumping gobs of semen onto my tongue. It tasted hot and salty and delicious. It ran down my chin and so I closed my lips around the head of his cock. He grabbed my hair with both hands and pulled and pushed my head against him until he was done. Then he let go, pushing my head away.
Nora walked to another door and I heard water running. She dabbed at T.G.’s face and then gingerly wiped his drooping penis. Then she bent and wiped at the semen on my chin. Her attention seemed maternal, so I half-expected the little kiss she bestowed on my cheek. She then stepped back from the table and stood rigidly, which I understood to mean that we were done and I should remove my sex-dazed carcass from the conference room table. They both assisted in helping me onto my feet.
T.G. beamed. “Rachel, I am now absolutely convinced that you have a bright future here at the network. We’ll be seeing more of each other soon.” He held out his hand, we shook and I followed Nora back into the corridor.
“Come to my office and we’ll get you tidied up,” she said over her shoulder as she led the way back. She allowed me to use her private rest room. I wiped at my face again and tidied up the stickiness on my vagina and thighs.
Nora was seated at her desk and held out a note. It said, Friday, 7:00 p.m. “You’ll be a guest of Mr. Herron’s this Friday. We’ll send a driver for you at 7:00 p.m. It’ll be Mr. Herron and a few guests at his residence. Dress casually. Jeans are okay, with a nice blouse. There’s a possibility it could end quite late, so make the necessary arrangements in case he asks you to spend the night. And here’s some information that will help you prepare. Hygienic tips, mostly. Don’t be offended by any of it. You’ll be grateful to have complied, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay,” I muttered, looking over a list that included things like, Refrain from drinking coffee and other acidic fluids. Eat fruit, stay away from asparagus and broccoli. There was also information relating to bowel movements and enemas. “Will you be attending, Nora?”
“I don’t think so. Not this time.” She stood and held out her hand. We shook hands and she clasped mine in both of hers. “Thank you, Rachel. You did very well today. Go home and prepare for Friday. Your department head has been advised that you are on a special assignment, so forget your previous commitments and schedule. Understood? Good.”
She showed me to the door, opened it partially, stopping as I waited. Leaning in, her lips brushed my ear as she whispered: “He means what he says. If you play your cards right, the stars are the limit.”
The End Of Part (#1 The Interview)
Thank you for reading Her Billionaire’s Erotic Rules (#1 The Interview) by Anjah Cavalli! If you enjoyed this story, please rate and review it! It influences what I write next. You can also contact me at: anjahcavalli@gmail.com . I love hearing feedback from readers.
Her Billionaire’s Erotic Rules (#1 The Interview)
Copyright 2013 Anjah Cavalli
This story is completely fictional. Any and all characters, places or events are fictional as well. This story is not intended for minors, but for adult readers only.
Cavalli, Anjah, Her Billionaire's Erotic Rules (#1 The Interview): Erotica (Erotic Sex Stories)
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