The Billionaire´s Toy (Last Day) (3 page)

I left high school and started to work as a secretary for the local realtor —  the only realtorin town.  I enjoyed it a lot. John, my boyfriend at the time, hated it. He said he didn’t see the point of me working.  But, he would entertain the idea until we had kids and settled down.  The problem that when I was working I never had to be home for him to visit.  I had that excuse to avoid the talks about when we were getting married or when we were going to start a family.

John was my childhood sweetheart and the nicest guy in the world.  That was his problem: he was too nice.  You could never argue with him, if you did you would just fell guilty afterwards. He was a nice guy.  Everything about him was nice. He was slender from working on the farm. 
Brown hair, nice eyes.  Nothing striking about him and nothing out of the ordinary. He was the same John from when we were little to when we finished high school.

We finished high school soon after he started work and we started saving up to get our own place.  “Why wait?
”
He would say, echoing the sentiments of both of our parents. It felt like the whole town was saying the same thing.

That was when the pressure started. I had to leave. If I didn’t I would be hated by everyone.  My fears were soon answered when I changed my mind about the whole thing and went ahead with it.

“When you two gettin´ married?” was the question I heard all day long, every single day.

His Mamma wanted us to live with her and my Mamma wanted us to live with her.  I couldn’t bear the idea of being in a bedroom which I had been in since I was a child, with my old Backstreet Boys posters on the wall and with John fighting for space with my Barbie Dolls.  It was an excuse, the realization of which hit me when we moved into our own place.  Besides, it’s not like we never had sex in that room.

I also needed us to get a place so that if it didn’t work out, I had somewhere to go.  Besides, it just didn’t feel right. You grow up and you move out. You don’t grow up and then have your boyfriend move into your parents’ house with you.

His bedroom antics consisted of asking the same question, “You
wanna do it?” My answer would always be the same, “Sure.” What else could it be? If I refused him, he would tell me it didn’t matter and then spend all night asking why I wasn’t happy. It saved me my time and sanity just to always agree.

I would lie in bed thinking about David Beckham or Justin Timberlake.  Once, I made the mistake of calling David´s name while John was on top of me. It was actually an improvement on the previous time when I had been counting sheep. It was always the same position with him, the same question, the same everything.  I got bored of sleeping with him, of being with him in general and of living in that town. 

I was meant to be in the big city. Maybe even with a bad boy that treated me like dirt,
who knows?
I lived in creature comforts with everything any girl could want, and I didn’t appreciate it, I didn’t want it.  I wanted more.  Mama said it was because Pops used to give me anything I wanted.  Pops used to spoil me rotten, he never could resist my big blue eyes and curly blond hair. 

As I got older men started to notice me. Not only did I have big blue eyes, I had G-sized boobs to match them. I’m gifted in that department and I like to make it known that they’re natural and all mine.

I wasn’t happy, I was bored with our friends, lifestyle and my job. I needed to leave. I loathed being with John, sometimes I would dread the time he came home. Sometimes I would make myself physically sick just so I didn’t have to talk to him.  I realized it was time to move on. I needed to set him free so that he could find true love with someone who would appreciate him for the great guy he was, something I would never do.

Maybe they were right, I´m selfish and only think of
myself.  His Mum called me a whore. She said all blonds were whores.  Not sure where she got her philosophy from, consider most people in town were brunettes and the ones that weren’t had blond highlights in their hair.

Mama said I take after my Great Grandmother who had the longest blond hair in town.  Everyone was jealous of her hair and all the men chased after her.  Like a great woman once said, and as Mama always repeated, “Blonds have more fun!”

In a small town, everybody knows everybody else’s business. So they all knew when I broke up with John.  In a small town these acts are not forgivable so it wasn’t just John's whose heart I broke, everybody seemed to suffer.

Everyone refused let it lie, even
today, nearly a year later, they’re still going talking about it.  Carol Winters, the reverends wife, gossips about it every Sunday at church. “I had your dress all sketched out ,Ali, why you do that to little John? All he ever did was try to make you happy.”

My response would always be the same, “I know. I don´t deserve him so I set him go.”

“Did it take you 15 years to realize that? You could have set him free a long time ago.”

Really, I was supposed to realize that when I was only 5 years old? Please!

They began to call me names at realtor company where I worked. They castigated me for breaking poor ´Little Johnny´s heart.  Mama and Pa stopped being invited to the local fares and other events and Pa, who loved a good game of cards, was removed from the local bridge game. I felt that the only reason for this pain was because I wanted to follow my heart and that didn’t lead me to John.

A few weeks after moving in with my folks, I thought the best thing was to follow my heart and move to New York.  I had no money, no job and nowhere to live.  It felt crazy at the time, but it felt
even crazier to stay.  The townspeople had conspired against me and I had very little chance of ever finding work again,  not that I needed to work – I just loved having my own money and independence.  My family were not welcome anywhere.  I did it for them as much as me, as soon as I left the family resumed their previous schedule.  The invites returned as soon as the whore left town. 

The town’s Deputy used that word to describe me when playing a card game with Pops. He received a jab to the face for his troubles.  My departure for the big city hurt
Pops a lot.

It was clear that I had to leave work.  There were hardly any
clients as it was, and with the news of my break-up things went to an all-time low. One day I overheard one of the town folk say, “If you didn’t have a husky working for you then maybe you would have more clients.”  My boss kept me on because he didn’t like to be intimidated, but it´s hard not to be in such a small town.

John ended up with Kelly, my best friend growing up. “You never wanted him so what’s the big deal?” Mama asked me and she was right, but it still felt weird. I was happy for him, but he seemed a little too close for comfort.  I didn’t mind that they were together. It just got me thinking, I couldn’t understand why he chose
her . Although there weren’t many people to choose from with only around 300 people in the town.
 

I saved a little money and with the help of my brother and sister. I moved to New York hoping to get a job within a week.  We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much to live in our old town.  Everything was taken care of. We owned the farm — passed on by my Great, Great, Great Granddaddy — and we all worked the land. I stopped when I graduated and I wanted to work in the
realtor.  Mama said that watching all those house programs when I was little put ideas in my head.  The good folks of Montezuma do the work their families did, they don´t have any fancy ideas.  “Next thing she´s going to be on Baywatch, running down the beach with bouncing breasts,” she added.

I told her I was going to New York not Hollywood. 
She  didn’t want to let me go, but I had to. It was time to move on.

Luckily, I got the job working for Carson within two days of moving.  The day I arrived
I  joined an agency and they told me that I was just what CR Enterprises were looking for.  I fit the profile, which I found a little weird.  I had only worked at the realtor since High School, almost two years ago.  Also, I’ve spent my entire life in a small town and had never even been to such a big city until then. It was the first time I had travelled more than ten miles from home, so the idea of being a perfect fit was surreal. 

The agent said they were looking for someone with fresh ideas and was new to the town
,  not someone who would take a job and then leave a few weeks later like most New Yorkers would. They wanted someone who would settle down, find their feet and stay.

I was not quite sure what that meant. I thought it meant someone who was up for a challenge.  Well, moving there was an experience and with the high rent and the little money I brought with me, there were only two choices; either
go back home with my tail in between my legs or start working the streets.  I knew that I would more likely take one option than the other.

I started work and was introduced to him — the man who answered all my prayers
—  On the third day of work.  I had one word of warning from the other staff, be prepared to come alive when he walks into the room.  That day he walked into the office at 8.29am sharp and every part of me came alive, he caught my breath and he is still catching it now.

Chapter 5

Oh my goodness.

H
e pushed the rabbit inside me. I let out a soft scream.

Arrh
.

I wanted to say more but my mouth was gagged.

Damn, what´s he doing? Or more to the point what´s he going to do?

I had to reassure myself that this was a sex game, some mysterious way to gain my confidence and my trust in him. I’ve never had to do that before with a man, normally it’s automatic. Who was I kidding? I had only been with one man.

I had read about this sort of thing in various New York book stores. I’d never been brave enough to actually take out a book and read it at home.  I felt like people would be watching me, scrutinizing what I bought and what I read. As if the cashier would stop and stare, thinking of me as some dirty whore.  I still had the small town mentality, even though I was in New York where no one cares about you unless they have to.

I heard him release a soft laugh.  “Anytime you want me to stop, nod your head twice,” he said without touching me. I was trying to figure out where he was. Was he bending or was he standing? I wasn’t sure.

Why is he doing this?

Is it fun?

Did I agree to this in the contract?

I tried to remember everything that was in there, but I really had no time to study it properly.

It felt like a mini bible and I didn’t want to read it when my flat mate was around, otherwise she would see it.

“Do you understand? If you want me to stop nod your head twice.  If you understand nod two times,” he said abruptly, commanding me to do as he said. What choice did I have? I was at his mercy, so I nodded three times. I understood, but what I couldn’t comprehend is why I wasn’t begging for him to stop.

Why am I encouraging him?

I knew he was enjoying it and I knew that I was too. It was an adventure beyond my wildest dreams
—  being taken by surprise and not knowing where things were leading or who else was in the room.

Is Jackson here taking notes?

I laughed to myself, thinking about such things. I was sure he didn’t want anyone to know what was happening, the same way I felt about it.

The attention, the strategic plan to sexually arouse me, was just playing with my insides.  The version of sex with John was usually, “You
wanna do it?” Nothing more, nothing less. I thought that was normal, that was how things were done in a relationship. It was like that from day one so it wasn’t as if things became boring, they were complacent from the start.

I felt like I was
on  a wet roller-coaster, with thoughts rolling around inside my head.  I felt something cold in-between my legs so I widen them. I was relishing it, I wanted him to know that by my body language.  I started circling my hips so he could tell that I was enjoying it.

One of his hands was trying to make its way down my neck, towards my breasts.  He was standing behind me with this hand over my front. He
gently slipping his hand underneath my bra, finding my nipple.  My large breasts didn’t make this an easy task, but they are hard and erect, ready for him to fondle them with his fingers. 

I moaned. This was too good.  One hand made its way down to my private parts and the other remained on my nipple. I didn’t want him to stop.  I moved my head to the side and then he whispered in my ears, “Good girl, this is only the beginning.”

God, yes! Please let there be more.

I nodded slowly to show that I wanted more. I swayed my head more and more to the right so that he could continue to play with my breasts. And then, as if my reading my mind, he stopped.  I felt like a jilted bride waiting at the altar, wondering what to do with her life from here.

Why did he stop?

I sat up straight in the chair and moved my head from side to side, eager to see even though I couldn’t see anything. It was like being in the jungle, waiting for the predator to pounce.  I felt vulnerable and lost, but that disappeared when I sensed a tongue in-between my legs — like a gust of wind.