Chapter 2. #3
Brian smirked. Thirty chairs. Thirty women.
The thought was staggering. A harem for a king.
A part of him, the simple factory worker, imagined the sheer logistical nightmare of it all…
the noise, the bickering, the endless drama.
He'd seen episodes of Desperate Housewives and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and knew that even the thought of juggling the egos of thirty women sounded exhausting.
And the thought of having to 'fuck thirty women' while sounding fun, also sounded like a full-time job in itself.
He sat down in the chair, the soft leather molding to his frame. It was a comfortable chair, one that was designed for hours of sitting, for long, intimate dinners.
Anita smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Now, Ty was what you would call a womanizer," she said, her tone light and casual. "Something I do not see you being."
"That obvious?" he asked, a touch of self-deprecating humor in his voice.
She laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. "Kind of.
You've received several kisses from Constance.
I know of one kiss from Holly. And you still do not look at them with eyes that just say you want to fuck them.
There's a certain amount of respect in your eyes.
" She paused, her smile widening. "Well, don't get me wrong.
I'm sure you want to fuck them. And I'm sure you will. But your eyes are respectful."
He took a deep breath, the rich, earthy scent of the polished wood filling his lungs.
"Anita," he said, his voice soft, a confession.
"I grew up poor and quite lonely. The few women I've known...
they were not the kind you would take home to meet your family.
Here, it's a whole other ball game. I'm not even sure why I got a ticket. "
She laughed at his analogy. "Sports fan?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I'll watch the occasional game here and there, but I'm not a huge fan."
She nodded. As if on cue, the door opened, and in stepped three young women, all dressed in French maid uniforms. They were, to put it mildly, fucking sexy.
The uniforms, which looked like they were made of a thin, sheer fabric, were less clothing and more a suggestion of what lay beneath.
It was clear they were not wearing anything under the uniforms. Their tits were free-hanging, and Brian's eyes, despite his best efforts, were immediately drawn to them.
They were firm, high, and round, and they jiggled with every step the women took.
Their bodies were slender and toned, their curves a testament to their youth and health.
He could barely put two words together as the three girls moved toward the table, each one with a plate of food in their hands.
One put a plate of food in front of him, a gourmet meal that looked too beautiful to eat.
Another put a plate in front of Anita. The third girl poured wine into their glasses.
"Thank you," Brian whispered, his voice failing him. He couldn't look away, not from the perfect curves of their bodies, not from the perfect symmetry of their faces. They were all stunning, their skin flawless, their eyes bright and intelligent.
Anita smirked. She had been waiting to see his reaction, and to her surprise, instead of simply ogling their assets, he was focusing on them as a whole…
their faces, the way they carried themselves, the gentle, professional way they served the food.
He did have a few quick glances at their tits, but then again, a blind man would fucking stare at them too.
They were impossible to ignore, a physical presence that screamed of power, of beauty, and of a world where everything was available.
He was in a new world, a world where the old rules did not apply, and he was the one at the head of the table, a king in a room full of queens.
The food was exceptional. Brian could not remember when he had ever had a steak cooked with such perfection, its flavor a symphony on his tongue.
The wine was just as magnificent… smooth and dry, leaving a clean, pleasant feeling on his palate.
He leaned back in his chair, a deep sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips.
"That was delicious," he said, his voice a low, contented murmur.
Anita smiled, her face aglow in the warm candlelight. "The chef is a friend of mine. She's been hoping for a chance to move up, and I think you'll like her." Her words were a subtle promise, an unspoken offer of another beautiful, willing woman for his collection.
He looked at her, and the uncomfortable question that had been nagging him for hours finally found its way out. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but it feels like this life is centered around sex."
She laughed, the sound a rich, throaty chuckle that seemed to fill the vast room.
"Oh, dear boy, it most certainly is. Sex is a commodity in the right circles.
There will be rich industrialists who offer up their daughters to you.
There will be wives of powerful men who will spread their legs for you to gain favor for their husbands.
You are now one of the richest men in the world, Brian, and women will be lining up to get a piece of you. "
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He knew the world was like this, but to have it laid out so plainly, so ruthlessly, was unnerving. "Including you," he said, his voice low.
She smiled, a knowing, almost predatory expression.
She took his hand, her touch cool and confident.
"Brian, I am yours if you want it. I don't need your money.
Ty set me up with five billion dollars, so I am set for life.
But I know what it all looks like, and trust me, I like everything about you. So, yes, including me."
He smirked. "Constance and Holly... they work for you."
She shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "No, Brian, they work for you. I just pay their paycheck."
"Semantics," he countered, a little more confident now.
She nodded. "True. But while they will tell me everything I want to know, they will be loyal to you.
If you tell them something in confidence, they will not even tell me.
" That actually made Brian feel a little better.
He had allies, women who had a loyalty to him, not to the money, not to the company, but to him.
"Now, are you going to invite me upstairs?" Anita asked, her voice a soft, sensual purr.
He smirked, a flicker of desire in his eyes. "Not wasting any time," he said.
She smiled and took his hand again, her fingers lacing with his. Then she stood, her blue satin dress flowing around her, and pulled him to his feet. "I have a trip in the morning to Paris with the girls, so it's either tonight or in three weeks."
He smiled, a genuine, joyful expression. "Well," he said, and with that, their mouths met in a kiss that was a mix of desire, relief, and a promise of a new life. She then guided him out of the dining room and toward the grand staircase that led to his penthouse and the master bedroom.