The limousine drove slowly up Times Square until it merged with Broadway then it pulled to the curb at 1535 which was the Marriott Marquis Hotel in downtown New York City. The front door opened and a handsome chauffeur got out and walked around to the curbside and opened the rear door and the gaggle of paparazzi, cameras flashing, moved closer to see who was inside. Inside the rear of the vehicle sat Mrs. J. Burdock Williamson, or CeCe, as she was known to all of her friends, who slowly slid sideways across the seat and exited the vehicle. Tonight CeCe was wearing a $45,000 Vera Wang gown which was a virtual duplicate of the one that Julia Roberts had worn to the Oscars just two months previously. The gown had been especially designed to show off CeCe's newest assets that had been acquired on her recent trip out west to her Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. The newly minted 36C breast line bulged inside the gown, the tops of her creamy orbs fighting to get out of her dress. Along with a $100,000 Tiffany's diamond necklace and a matching set of earrings when CeCe exited the vehicle and stood before the cameras she showed more sparkle than Niagara Falls. Tonight she was attending the charity event of the year in New York, a $250,000 a plate Governor's dinner to raise funds for his favorite charity, his re-election campaign. CeCe was wealthy beyond most people's limited knowledge of wealth, her father having founded one of the pharmaceutical giants of this country and having passed on all of his wealth and power to his daughter when he died some thirty years ago.
CeCe made very few mistakes in her life, no one with as much money as she had could afford to make very many mistakes and still keep their fortune, but her one failing in this life had been in marrying her husband, J. Burdock Williamson. He was a closet drunk, a whoremonger and his various dalliances continued to cost her well over two million dollars a year. It wasn't that CeCe couldn't afford to give him the money, quite the opposite in fact, a couple of million dollars to CeCe didn't mean any more to her than spending twenty dollars did to most ordinary people. No her husbands real crime, at least in CeCe's eyes, was that he didn't take care of her! Even thought she was 65 she was still very sexually charged and if it had been up to her she would be having sex every night, not that J. Burdock could get it up that often anyway.
CeCe, with the help of the best plastic surgeon in California, didn't look a day over 40. She stood five foot nine barefoot and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds with perfectly colored ash blonde hair, compliments of an excellent, but very expensive hairdresser. Her body was taught because she worked out two hours each morning with a personal trainer and her butt was as tight as a drum and her brand new breasts stood straight out from her chest and certainly didn't look anything but absolutely real. In short, she was as close to a '10' as was surgically possible.
With a practiced eye and very fake smile CeCe entered the Marriott and was immediately escorted through the crowd and over to an elevator that whisked her up three stories to the grand ballroom. Once she had maneuvered her way through the metal detectors she was shown to her table which was not the center stage table where she should have been seated but two tables off to the left where she had asked to be seated. Tonight CeCe wanted to be a little more in the shadows and she certainly didn't want a center table so she would have to look into the face of her husband all night. J. Burdock, the big spender with her money, having coughed up $750,000 for a seat on the podium two places to the right of the Governor.
Every one of the twenty-five tables in the grand ballroom had it's own personal maitre d' assigned as well as two service personnel, each dressed in black tuxedos and white ties. When CeCe was shown to her table and seated she noted that her table was composed of a former Senator from Virginia, a recent director of the World Bank and his wife, a current congressman with a woman who looked like an expensive hooker and an executive producer and her director husband, the one that directed all those New York law shows. She was quickly seated and the maitre d' promptly opened a $250 mini bottle of French Champagne and poured her a glass. She looked at his nametag and saw that it read, Charles.
"Thank you Charles."
"You're most welcome Mrs. Williamson."
As she sipped on her Champagne and looked around the ballroom her mind wandered and the first subject it stopped on was sex. Last week at a private dinner for the Secretary of State she had been seated with an Argentinean businessman who was very wealthy and in town for two weeks. He had offered to have her driven home but CeCe had opted to be taken to her Fifth Avenue condominium and he had stayed the night. She still couldn't believe how many orgasms he had given her, his head staying between her spread legs for what seemed like hours, licking and sucking on her engorged clit and pussy causing her to scream with pleasure as electric shock waves spread throughout her body. God what a lover he had been and he wasn't demanding either, far from it, all he ended up doing was spending less than five minutes in the missionary position before filling her with his seed, rolling over and falling asleep. She wondered where he was tonight and contemplated calling him on her cell and slipping out early for a quick rendezvous.
"Excuse me Mrs. Williamson?"
CeCe looked up and saw the face of a cream colored young man, maybe 21 or 22 who was looking expectantly at her. His nametag said Miguel. "Yes Miguel?"
"Mrs. Williamson I have two choices for the wine tonight, a 1981 Cabernet from Californian or a 2001 Chardonnay from Peru, which would you prefer?"
She thought for a second thinking that Peru was close to Argentina and she smiled pointing to the bottle of Chardonnay. "The Peruvian please."
"Yes ma'am." Miguel poured about an eighth of an inch into her glass then placed the glass in front of her and waited to see if it would be acceptable.
CeCe took a sip and in a very lady-like manner swished it around in her mouth and then swallowed. It had a light crisp taste with just a hint of apple and she nodded her head with pleasure. "Very nice Miguel, you may pour me some more, oh... and please don't let my glass get empty until I leave."
The dinner proceeded through the first course of an excellent chilled shallot and mushroom salad followed by the main entrée of a rare Beef Wellington. She had been having a nice discussion with the wife of the executive producer when she felt someone's fingers on her thigh. She stiffened and daubed her mouth with a napkin. It wasn't all that unusual to have someone touch her under the table; in fact more often than not people who could afford events like these also thought that the women in attendance were their private playground. She stopped eating and glanced down into her lap and saw the hand of the executive producers' husband lightly rubbing half way between her knee and her thigh. She looked up at him and saw that his head was turned away from her, feinting interest elsewhere, and that he was conversing with the woman the congressman had brought to the dinner.
What an ass hole she thought as she pushed his hand off her lap. It caught her eye that the waiter Miguel had witnessed what had happened and he had a barely perceptible smile on his face. She smiled back at Miguel and then glanced to her wineglass and Miguel promptly refilled it. She smiled again. "Thank you Miguel, you are very attentive."
"Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am."
Miguel moved back towards the wall near the Senator's side of the table and CeCe looked at the young man. Again she thought that he wasn't over 21 but he was extremely handsome. His light colored skin brought memories of being in Cuba as a young woman and watching the handsome sugar cane workers, stripped to their waists and slashing the cane with their bolo knives, their light brown bodies shining in the hot Cuban sun. God she was making herself wet thinking back to those days abroad. Yes she was sure that he had at least some Cuban in his blood. She was just starting to think nice sexual thought about the boy when the hand returned to her thigh. Annoyed, but not wanting to make a scene, she let her right hand drop down into her lap and she took his hand into hers and lightly squeezed. When he looked at her and smiled she sunk a fingernail into his palm, drawing blood, and smiled again. "Wonderful night isn't it Richard?" That was all she said as the hand quickly withdrew from her lap.
The speeches started and CeCe stifled a yawn. She eased her chair back from the table and when Miguel looked over at her she pointed to her coffee cup and he quickly moved away from the table to get one of the silver urns of coffee. By the time he returned to the table Richard's hand had returned to CeCe's thigh. Now she was really annoyed and didn't care if it showed or not. She was just about to say something nasty to him and his wife when Miguel came to her rescue. She had just shoved Richard's hand away from her while at the same Miguel was pouring the coffee. When Miguel again witnessed the unwanted advance he managed to pour hot coffee onto Richards's hand causing him to scream in pain and jerk his hand up above the table. The movement, unfortunately, also caused a half of cup of Richard's coffee to spill down the front of CeCe's Vera Wang dress.
"Owwww God damn it you stupid idiot!" Richard shouted at the waiter. The speaker at the podium stopped for just a second and all of the heads around the table turned and looked to see what was happening.
.... There is more of this story ...