Sin City
Copyright© 2009 by Audrey Haber
Chapter 45
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 45 - A tale about Page 3 lifestyles and relationships set in Bombay, India, in the late Nineties.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic NonConsensual Rape Blackmail Cheating Cuckold Rough Torture Interracial White Male Slow
Merlyn sat back in the seat of the Lear Jet and shut her eyes. She couldn't believe she was doing this.
Jetting off to San Francisco with a man she'd met only yesterday. A man who really cared about her. Who just happened to be a billionaire. She loved the irony of bunking work for a pleasure trip with the man who owned the company that owned her bank! That was a great reason to list on her leave form: Holidaying with Steven Lambert, CEO.
"I've heard of frequent flyer miles," he said. "But never heard of frequent flyer smiles." She opened her eyes. He was holding out a flute of champagne. She took it.
"Do you always smile so radiantly during take-off or is that just high anxiety?" he asked taking a second flute of champagne from the uniformed stewardess with the tray.
Merlyn shrugged. "Sunny side up."
He glanced at the pleasant-faced stewardess -- from Minneapolis, he'd mentioned when introducing her to Merlyn.
"Thank you, Dotty, that'll hold us for a while."
She liked how friendly he was with the crew, the way they had greeted him when he came aboard. Not one of those stiff-necked, stone-assed CEOs who act like they own the company, and fuck everyone else. "I was just basking in the moment."
He sipped and nodded. "That's good. I do a lot of basking myself. It's all in the wrist, you know. You have to elevate the ball just right, or it hits the rim of the hoop, or the backboard, and bounces off without going in."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Basking. That's the game that Michael Jordan used to play when he wasn't endorsing sneakers or sportswear, right?"
She giggled. "That's basketball, you fruitcake."
He smiled. "I've never been called a fruitcake before.
A donut maybe, even just plain nut, but not fruitcake." He sipped his champagne. "I like it."
"Fruitcake," she said again, nuzzling his chin. She loved his smell.
The plane shuddered once, sloshing her champagne, then began rolling forward smoothly. She felt a brief moment of vertigo and touched her chest.
"Don't worry." He took her hand in his. "This isn't the same kind of plane that John Kennedy, Jr, flew. And Captain Tanner is a much better pilot."
"That's all right. I'm not really scared."
He looked at her. "Are you sure?"
She saw that he was asking about more than the take-off.
She smiled slowly. "Yes. I'm sure."
The take-off was as smooth as silk.
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