Billionaire and the Sisters Ch. 01

Elsa told me more about her upbringing, college when she'd been a math major, and more. She was no slouch in the brains department. She worked in an architect's office, crunching a lot of the numbers involved in calculating loads and stresses on new, large buildings being planned. She was paid well, but nothing over the top.

I even checked out Malcolm Griswold, Elsa's recently declared ex-boyfriend. He was a junior engineer for a manufacturing company in the burbs. He helped keep the assembly line moving, and also made improvements to old stuff or helped design modifications to the line when new products came along. He was a schmuck, and as it turned out a cheat. A little tootsie named Rose had started work at his company in their marketing department right after graduation. He liked what he saw, and went after her. They'd started dating about three months ago or twelve weeks before he broke up with Elsa. Malcolm and Rose had been having a torrid affair most of that time, and indeed things continued to move along for them.

One thing I noted about Elsa that I liked was how understated she was. She'd accomplished all sorts of things in college scholastically, athletically, and in her volunteer work, but she treated it all as normal, and nothing that deserved anything more than passing mention in response to some specific question I'd pose to her. Apparently, she could be a social animal because she'd belonged to a popular sorority on her college campus. She didn't need to blow her own horn. From what I could tell, she was repeating that pattern where she worked: outstanding work on many fronts but low key.

Even before our first date, I had arranged to have flowers sent to her. I wasn't sure what kind, so I left that option open with the florist, promising that I would text him further instructions very late Saturday night. He was making a special delivery for me, since they were normally closed on Sundays. After our date, I texted him about pink roses and the message I wanted included.

I called Elsa from my plane while I was on the way to Amsterdam from Tokyo. It was Wednesday evening her time. Again, I had an early morning meeting with some chemical company executives from Akzo Nobel/ICI to try to close a deal to sell several large domestic chemical plants in the U.S. and trade a few others. Fundamentally, I was restructuring the industry on a global scale; the result would pour hundred of millions into my coffers.

I asked Elsa for a Saturday date, and I could tell from the tone of her voice how happy she was about the occasion. We had not made it to the ballroom on our first date, but I promised her this time we'd cutback a little on the conversation and be sure to dance.

Even talking with Elsa from the plane via satellite phone link, I could feel the vibrations with her. I'd tried to find these same feelings with several dozen other women, but had never gotten even a tickle of anything. With Elsa, it was like I was hearing a blaring trumpet while standing on top of an active earthquake.

After I hung up, I turned to my chief of staff. "Andy, can I borrow your son's Jeep again on Saturday into Sunday?"

He laughed, "Same terms and conditions as last week, and I'm sure the answer is yes."

I had bought Andy's son Scott new rims and a set of high-end tires for the Jeep before I borrowed it last Saturday. The cost had run to almost two thousand dollars. In the process I'd learned that he also wanted a hard top for the car to make it more palatable to use in the wintertime. The price would be about the same. I didn't mind paying just to keep up my somewhat middle class subterfuge until I was ready to reveal myself to Elsa.

Andy said with a chuckle, "I'll text him now, and tell my son to go ahead and order that hardtop for his Jeep."

I nodded my acquiescence. I laid my head back and hoped to get a few hours sleep before we landed at Schiphol and taxied to the general aviation terminal. Beyond the business meetings, I'd be back home in time for a business dinner with some executives on Thursday.

Naughty me. As I drifted off to sleep in the reclining seat, I had a series of erotic thoughts about Elsa. Somehow, I pictured us naked on some Caribbean beach in the shadows of a palm grove. She only wore a colorful sarong that revealed all her charms, was inviting me to make love to her, and I was moving slowly to be with her -- total smitten with her. She was perfect -- breasts, her flat stomach, the curves of her hips, and the beauty of her legs, all only amplifying how pretty she looked overall and she had love for me. The sarong slipped away from her lithe body. The dream deepened, and my memory of its features faded away into my deeper sleep.

Friday I arranged for more flowers to be delivered to Elsa. I didn't think that was over the top, but later I'd find out that I had targeted on one of her cute weaknesses -- she loved little gifts from someone who appreciated her and her favorite was flowers. Right then, I was very appreciative. I was also becoming consumed in my thinking about Elsa. It felt as though every minute I had some thought about her flit through my head.

Saturday evening, I drove the Jeep over to Elsa's to pick her up. I liked the change of pace from the limousine. It felt good to be doing something routine for myself in my down time. As had been the case the week prior, behind me there was a black Escalade with two armed guards in it, just in case something started to happen.

Elsa opened the door, pulled me inside, and planted a kiss on me that melted the nails in my shoes.

I pulled away with a smile, "What brought that on, not that I'm complaining, mind you?" I continued to hold her in my arms.

She hugged me, "The flowers, of course. You're so romantic. I just love it."

Our date went rolling along from there, and it was as though I could do no wrong. Elsa was so appreciative of every little thing, every small attention, and hung on every word I said. I have to admit the feeling was mutual. Further, I knew it was because of 'Me,' and not because of my money or position in the huge company I ran.

I thought of that line from some country song -- 'You had me at Hello.' Well, Elsa had me. She wasn't even aware of it, but she was slowly reeling me into her. When I looked at her I saw an angel surrounded by stars and love. I chased her hoping she'd catch me.

All through dinner I wanted to kiss her again. We were across the table from each other, and I spent an inordinate amount of time swimming in her sexy eyes and trying to read her mind.

After dinner we walked a block to the ballroom dance place. They had a live ten-piece band doing old favorites. Why I liked them remained a mystery to me, but I did -- old Glenn Miller, Dorsey, Goodman, and other songs from a bygone era, but all of them danceable. We were the youngest couple in the place by thirty years. I heard comments about how 'cute' we were.

I got Elsa back in my arms, and told her that this was where she belonged. She nodded and then kissed me on the lips again. My heart did little flippity-flops. My God, I was feeling this immense connection with her -- mind, body, and spirit, just what I'd wanted for decades.

One of my little devils got after me. I was losing control over some part of my life, and he thought that was intolerable. I couldn't show weakness, and getting all mushy over some girl was definitely a weakness. I had to be strong, macho, and manly in this situation.

Just about the time I had decided to assert myself with Elsa, she melted into my arms again with another kiss. She then whispered to me about how handsome I was, and how much she liked being with me. She then waxed eloquent about my personality, and how I came across to her. She avoided using the 'L' word, but came right up to that door. I was already there.

The ballroom closed at eleven o'clock. We retrieved the Jeep and drove to a 24/7 coffee shop. The black security car behind us went unnoticed. We sat outside on a stonewall and nursed some lattes, and just talked. I got her talking about her work and life, and that led to some talk about important values we saw in a relationship.

I winced internally when she talked about openness and honesty, knowing I was hiding a large secret from her. I decided that when I was certain that Elsa was 'The One' I would remedy that situation, and we'd go on from there. I felt certain she'd jump for joy with the news I'd eventually share. I was almost sure; I just wanted a little more time not being the billionaire in her eyes.

Elsa

I was in his arms, snuggled against his chest, and this felt so wonderful. I felt swept off my feet by this beautiful man. I loved to slow dance with him; I felt so safe and protected, ... and I felt my heart slipping away.

I tried to be rational. I'd been dumped only a couple of weeks earlier by Malcolm. I was sad and even devastated, but in hindsight I had come to realize that it was for the best. We had so many incompatibilities. I tried to talk myself into worrying about my relationship with Mark for the same reasons, but I couldn't be objective. I'd talked Cindy's ear off about Mark too, and even she was starting to feel as though she knew him as well as I did.

I didn't feel incompatibilities with Mark; just smooth sailing. He obviously thought highly of me too. Our two dinners out had been at two great restaurants, and I hated to think of the cost. The wine alone had been almost a hundred dollars a bottle, and then he recommended to me the first or second most expensive thing on the menu. He told me he'd had it once before and it was marvelous; he was right both times. He was out to impress me, and he had. I did keep telling him that I could be fine with the house wine, and the ground beef, but he wanted me to have the best.

Before he had a chance to ask me out on another date, I asked him out. Well, I asked him to my apartment where I could cook him a dinner. I also mentioned that we could dance or 'whatever.' The 'whatever' was my euphemism for having a wild make out session with him. I might even be ready to make love with him. Heck, I wanted to fuck his brains out on our first date; by our third date I'd probably kill him because I'd be so sexually worked up.

Yes, I felt that simpatico with him that I'd invoke the third date rule. I thought that might be a little trite, but I didn't think Mark had any expectations about me in regards to sex. He seemed over joyed at our kisses and our snuggling on the dance floor at the ballroom, and then kissing goodnight on my door stoop.

I wanted to seduce the man. I wanted him in my bed. I wanted him next to me, under me, or on top of me. I wanted what he had inside me. I couldn't believe how horny I was for him. He really had my attention. I knew I'd be masturbating with my magic battery toy to a vision of us making love shortly after he left me that Saturday evening. I renamed my battery toy 'Mark.'

Mark accepted my dinner invitation with a huge smile. He promised to bring wine.

A week later, he showed up at my door with two bottles of what looked like more of his hundred dollars plus a bottle wine. It was so smooth, and blended so well with the salmon I'd fixed for us. I'd also splurged on dinner, buying the best salmon and fixings for a superb meal.

I was a good cook. My mother had been a great teacher, and I paid attention. If the way to man's heart was through his stomach, I was creating an express lane between our two hearts.

Mark seemed on his best behavior. He didn't try to maul me or try anything that might be interpreted as over the line, but we sure did kiss and stroke each other a lot during the cocktail period before dinner. The most I can chalk up to heading in the right direction was when he stroked one of my breasts outside the several layers of my clothing. I swooned it was so nice. Of course, I added some extra passion to my kisses then. I wanted him to know how receptive I was to his advances.

We had a great conversation over dinner. I learned how familiar he was with the European Union, and some of the laws and tariffs they were relaxing on U.S. products being imported into that zone. Yes, we had an erudite conversation. Mark's knowledge of high level international trade amazed me, not only dealing with Europe, but also the Middle East, Latin America, and Asia.

After dinner, I whipped through my rehearsed drill to get the important food put away, and left the rest in the sink. Mark poked around my bookshelves.

I put on my carefully crafted playlist on my iPad, and flowed into Mark's arms with the imperative, "Let's dance."

I dimmed the lights, and the music got dreamy, just as I'd planned.

It took me a half hour to woo a highly motivated Mark Worth into my bed. He then took me to the stars and back.

We got naked at my instigation, and then I was on him, sucking on the nicest cock I'd ever enjoyed. He was not only long, but also had girth, so much that I could barely get him into my mouth. After I got used to him, I found ways to please him and to take even more of him. I became the highly motivated one between us, wanting to bring him superb pleasures. I wanted him to never forget that night.

Mark pushed me off at one point; he admonished, "This is not how I want to finish our first time together." He smiled and kissed me. "I want to be making love to you properly." I didn't need a college degree to figure out that 'properly' meant with his cock deep inside my hot and desirous pussy.

He immediately went down on me, and spent the next half-hour with his mouth and fingers doing things to my cunt that kept bringing me to orgasm and driving me higher and higher up the lust scale.

I finally pleaded for us to couple, and Mark came over me, and by then I was so wet and so lubricated that he could have driven his damn Jeep into my cunt. I should note that the hornier I am, the cruder my language becomes. I could be really slutty, and had been on many occasions.

Mark slid right into me, and in three strokes was at his full depth. I came and came and came. I flooded our union and my bed, but I didn't mind. Mark didn't mind, and in fact seemed pleased with my involuntary reaction to his penetration. He voiced his pleasure over my reaction to his lovemaking.

I blurted out, "Oh, God, Mark. I love this. I love fucking you. I love you!"

Mark whispered back, "The feeling is more than mutual, Elsa. You have stolen my heart. I love you." I was so happy that he could say those three words -- that we'd shared them. It was a major breakthrough in our relationship. I was in love. WE were in love.

My heart soared, and I followed right along as yet another orgasm pelted my body like an intense storm spawning immense F5 tornadoes. Mark's equipment was so large and the way we were joined meant that his cock kept stroking against my clit, and when it wasn't doing that it was rubbing against my G-spot. I kept cumming.

I cried with joy I was so happy and so satisfied. No man had ever gotten me off the way he did, and I was not inexperienced. That said, there was more to it than just the physical connection; something deeper was happening between us. We were sharing some kind of transcendent experience where we were in each other's minds, heads, and souls.

We made love three times that evening. I lost count of my orgasms. Mark told me it was the most satisfying night of his life, and from the vibes I felt from him I believed him. It was my best night ever too, and I told him that.

As we lay in our final afterglow, Mark explained that he had to travel again during the week, but wanted to spend the following weekend with me. He wanted to take me to a resort area about a two-hour drive away from the city. I agreed.

Mark got up, dressed, kissed me goodbye as I displayed my nude body to him without a shred of bashfulness. I wanted him to remember that I could also be a slut in bed. Oh, I wanted him so much. I hoped he wanted a woman who was highly sexed.

Midweek, I got an email from Mark. He suggested some casual things to pack for a night away. He apologized that he only had one night to be away, but promised to pick me up Saturday morning about nine o'clock, and thought we'd be home Sunday evening. I was so excited I almost peed myself.

I called my sister and we talked for hours. I told her about every little thing that Mark and I had done and the feelings I'd felt. I think we were both so horny when we ended that call that we jilled off.

Despite my upbeat mood, I still wanted to know more about Mark. There was something about him that remained a mystery that I hadn't figured out. I wondered if it was important or whether I was making up ghost stories about my boyfriends again.