Authors: Astrid Lee Donovan
THE BILLIONAIRE BROTHERS’ OFFER
MENAGE EROTICA
Celia threw several large notes at the taxi driver and scrambled from the car, leaping over the roadway and clattering down the sidewalk to her after-work meeting.
Her day in the agency office had been arduous, at best, and she had underestimated the time it would for her to change in the work bathroom and get a taxi. Celia had on a form fitting, yet conservative looking, black dress and was mincing as fast as her pencil skirt would allow toward the restaurant. Her billionaire client and occasional bedroom partner, Trent Avery, had invited her to meet some of his international partners. While not the most unusual request Trent had ever asked her, like her first assignment where she organized a private group orgy and had her first girl-on-girl experience, Celia was not used to being exclusively invited to Avery Industries events. At the moment, Celia was organizing Avery Industries’ presence at an international IT convention and Trent had said that it was necessary she met the team before the convention.
Seeing the restaurant entrance just ahead, Celia stopped in the alcove of a closed shop and pulled her favorite killer stilettos from her handbag, replacing her comfy ballet flats in an instant.
Pulling down her dress and combing her bejeweled fingers through her glossy black hair, Celia took a few bracing breaths and made her way calmly to the restaurant entrance.
The restaurant was one of the most exclusive in the city, and it was said that it took months to get a booking; so how Trent was able to secure a table for eight within just a few days’ notice was practically a mystery.
Pushing through the solid oak door, Celia was enveloped by the heat and smell of rich foods.
A stern-faced maître de stood to attention at the door and gave Celia the once-over. Approving of Celia’s attire, the impeccably dressed older woman approached and offered to take Celia’s coat.
“Would you be the final guest for the Avery Industries table?” the woman swiftly removed the trench and hung it in a hidden cloakroom.
“Yes, actually I am, how did you know?”
“Oh, there isn’t another guest expected for 25 minutes, we make it our business to know who is coming in and when,” the woman’s eyes crinkled with a smile, which pleasantly melted her cool appearance.
With that, the lady motioned toward the sparse dining area. Unlike many other restaurants, the tables were few and far between. This not just to drive up the price and exclusivity of the tables but gave guests privacy – which also made the restaurant a hot spot for celebrities and cheating power-players.
Hidden behind an ornate screen was Celia’s table, a huge roundtable filled with broad-shouldered men in their late 40s who were at this point jostling and laughing. A buzz of excitement flitted up Celia’s spine; the last time she had been at a table like this she’d been ravished by three mysterious, and maybe not so mysterious, men.
Trent stood up from his seat the moment Celia came in to view, “This, gentlemen, is the very talented, Celia.”
Six pairs of eyes swiveled and fixed on to Celia; very quickly Trent introduced the guests with each giving a little wave or toast with their wineglass.
“I am very sorry I am late,” Celia started, “But the traffic from my side of town was just dreadful,”
“Not at all Celia, we were a little late ourselves,” the men all chuckled in agreement, “We were having just a little too much fun drinking at a nearby bar,” at that, Celia was seated in the spare chair on Trent’s right.
Celia nodded to the guest on her own right, a rugged and handsome looking man with short dark red hair, outdoorsy suntanned skin and vibrant green eyes.
“George,” the man smiled and stuck his hand out giving Celia’s a firm shake, Celia could detect a strong accent.
Celia waited for the maître de to pour her a glass of wine, and beamed back at her chivalrous neighbor, “Thanks, there were so many names that my mind is spinning. So, are you from the UK office?”
“Yeah, I’m here with Carl,” George pointed to a nondescript man across the table, “Now, call me crazy, but we’re just amazed by the work you’ve done so far, ever thought about making a go in the UK?”
Surprised that any businessman would ask questions of her straight away, Celia blushed.
“Well… you’ll be surprised how well a few well-placed balloons will do to the crowds,”
George laughed, a red blotchiness growing on his skin betraying his drunken state.
Just then, menus were gently placed in front of the guests and new batches of freshly baked bread distributed among the drunken men.
Before Celia could look at the menu Trent had begun to tap his wineglass with a fork.
“Lady and gentlemen, I would like to propose a toast. To good fortune, good business and good company,” Trent let his eyes linger on Celia’s and took a generous sip of his wine.
With the food orders taken, another bottle of priceless red was opened and poured; the conversation had bubbled and flowed as well as any dinner party Celia had ever been to. Most of the guests had been hardworking managers and entrepreneurs who had met Trent in his early days and were eventually recruited to help shape the organization into its formidable standing today.
George had proved an entertainer at heart; Celia’s sides were in stitches at his streams of jokes.
Entrees had been flavorful bites, and now the mains were being dished out. Celia had settled on a steak, while most of her new colleagues had cleverly chosen filling pastas to quench their drunken appetites.
George had chosen a type of seafood pasta glistening with olive oil and filled with mussels, prawns and lobster meat.
The conversation had come to a lull, and it seemed that the table guests were grouping into closer chats.
“So,” said George between bites, “How did Trent uncover this hidden gem that is Celia,” his green eyes flashed with bemusement.
Celia dug her sharp knife deeper into the steak, “Well, at a charity function actually. I sort of, insulted him,”
George choked and coughed on his pasta, “What?”
“Yes!” she laughed, “He was buying everything at this auction and I got suspicious so I gave him a call, can’t say it was the typical kind of introduction but he said he was impressed and called me the next day to discuss some of his… event plans,”
George laughed into his wineglass, “A spark like you is hard to find,” he then turned his body toward Celia, knocking his knees against hers.
“So, you and Trent work closely?”
“Not… really,” Celia focused on her meal, “I mean, he gives me the briefs, I liaise with him at the events and report on findings, but my main contact is Ben, the personal assistant. Now that guy is a superstar,”
George nodded slowly, the alcohol in his blood slowing his absorption of information.
“Well, I have never seen him so focused and proactive before,” George patted Celia’s shapely thigh and leaned forwards, “Before you came in, we were having serious conversations on giving him some time off. You’ve done a great job for the whole business,” George’s hand rubbed back and forth over Celia’s dress fabric, “So, you been the UK before?”
Celia took a bite of her steak and shook her head.
“Oh, you should. It’s just across the pond, you know. You could bring along your… partner, or what have you, and I can show you around, it would be my pleasure” his hand lingered on Celia’s dress.
Celia couldn’t help her lips pulling up into a grin and took her time looking before looking back, “That’s too generous, but no, there’s no partner just yet,”
“How can that be? An exotic woman like you not having a partner, that’s a crime in itself, what is the world coming to?” George wasn’t the first to comment appreciatively on her glowing skin and dark features. At that, George’s broad hand made an appreciative sweep of her leg, edging further toward her inner thigh. A shiver of anticipation trembled down Celia’s spine and settled as a pleasant buzz in the pit of her belly.
The thick white linen tablecloth hid everything from view, and George looked a natural using one hand to twirl and fork his pasta. Celia’s heart thumped, and with the subtlest of movements she opened her thighs out under George’s hand.
George stopped twirling his pasta and grinned into his plate. Licking his lips, he slowly resumed eating while his left hand trailed back down Celia’s dress to her knee and snuck beneath the fabric.
Celia focused on cutting her juicy steak and spearing the vegetables, but her senses were tingling like crazy as her body tracked George’s slow progress into her inner thighs.
George’s hand stroked the soft mocha skin of her inner thigh, and edged up further. Celia responded and rolled her thighs out under the table, letting her guest reach her dampening panties.
Trent was busy talking shop to the guests on his left, and the representatives across the table were watching sport replays on their smartphones.
“No one is watching,” George muttered, his eyes flashing with excitement.
Celia blushed and turned toward him, a move that actively scooped George’s hand into her crotch, “I am so far impressed with your work,” she started, batting her eyelashes at him “But what are you going to do now?”
George put down his fork, reached for his glass and took a sip; “I’ll leave you breathless,”
At that, George’s fingers ran up and down the centre of Celia’s panties, enticing the buzzing flesh underneath.
Slowly up and down George ran his fingers and knuckles over the satin fabric, pressing the panties into Celia’s damp nether regions. Celia’s hole was practically gaping by the fifth rub, her clit engorged with blood and throbbing angrily.
“You are just delicious,” George whispered toward her.
Celia went to reach for him, but George shook his head, “Another time Cherie, this is all you,”
George’s hand stopped moving, and his thumb press down on the tip of Celia’s clit. Celia practically jolted in her seat, and had to squeeze the cutlery in her hands to stop herself from moaning.
Then, George’s thumb started circling the tip, his slow and concentrated movements livening her wet centre. She thrust her hips toward his hand, her clit demanding a hard rub, but George eloquently slid the pressure away.
Celia’s let out a breath and miserably tried to focus on getting the food onto her fork.
Just as she popped another bite into her mouth George’s fingers slid under the panties and a deft thick finger slotted into her pussy.
Celia moaned, and in horror noticed the rest of the guests had looked up at her.
Trying to keep her rampant heart in check, Celia motioned to her steak, “This is just divine, how are your meals?”
With George’s finger sliding in and out of her slurping hole, Celia feigned interest as each guest reeled off shopping lists on sumptuous their meals were. Just as the last guest gave his rendition of a perfectly roasted shoulder of lamb, Celia thought she had averted disaster. That was until George’s non-descript English colleague, Carl, had decided to focus his attention on her and talk about other meals he had experienced in other fine restaurants.
“This is definitely a wonderful restaurant, but have you ever been to The Framers on the west coast?”
“Um, no, I can’t say I have,” Celia’s pussy was now squelching with juice, but George didn’t seem at all deterred and was gently easing the mouth of her slit open to slide another finger inside.
“Now that is an oyster bar worth writing home about, they have the most delicious menu. I think they catch their oysters that morning on their own boat! But, if you’re after steak, and you certainly sound like you enjoy your steak, I heard there was a….” Carl’s voice mingled with the ambient noise of the candlelit restaurant, Celia could barely nod her head in feigned agreement as her body opened and surrendered to George’s fingering.
“…What do you think?” Carl asked.
“Oh, I totally agree, you’ll have to email across a list of your favorite restaurants and recommendations for me,” Celia hoped that was the answer he had fished for.
Suddenly, George then seemed to twist his torso away from Celia to ask his neighbor a quick question, what this did was allow him to twist his wrist and slip the tip of his thumb into Celia’s swollen clit. Stuck in this position while he spoke to his colleague, George was in the perfect position to massage Celia’s sopping g-spot and rub her steel-hardened clit.
Burrowing her elbows into the table, Celia involuntarily arched her back and dropped her tailbone, widening and engorging her wet pussy with more of George’s hand.
“Oh Carl,” George motioned to his colleague, cutting the conversation off, “Tell me about the fishing thing you did just the other weekend,”
Now no longer under the focus of Carl, Celia opened her thighs as wide as she could and pretended to reach for her napkin. Instead, she grabbed George’s hand, extracted the fingers and vigorously rubbed them against her slick nub.
George obliged and discreetly swirled his fingers faster and faster around Celia’s clit before plunging three of his fingers back into her tightened slit. A fine beading of sweat had erupted on Celia’s neck, and her breath caught in gasps. Further and further she spread her thighs to George’s touch. Slamming his fingertips against her swollen g-spot, George was finger-fucking Celia into orgasm at a table of strangers. Unable to stop the pent-up orgasm from screaming through her body, Celia gripped the edge of the table and squeezed her butt as her pussy pulled and squeezed on George’s slick fingers, a spurt of cum soaking his hand and her panties. Celia trembled with the violent orgasm and pulled her thigh’s together to try and control the pelvic convulsions, until finally, she began breathing again.
George left his fingers inside of Celia for a few more moments before letting them slide out. Celia watched in surprise as George lifted his hand from his lap and slipped the glistening fingers into his mouth in front of Carl and the other guests, who were oblivious to this strange show.
“Mmmm, delicious,” George interrupted, slurping on his digits, “Sorry to interrupt boys, but I could so do this again,” and although he motioned to his almost finished plate, Celia knew it wasn’t the pasta he had enjoyed.