Climbing the Ladder 5 - Reaching New Heights
Copyright© 2026 by Michael Loucks
Chapter 38: Making the Save
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 38: Making the Save - Jonathan's business life is booming, but he's also suffering from yet another loss. While he's done his best to pick up the pieces of that sundered relationship, he can't help but feel responsible. However, where two close relationships have withered, another blooms. Violet has transitioned from a badly damaged girl to a vibrant woman. Will he continue to climb this ladder, or will there be another ladder to climb in his future? No matter what, the only direction he plans to go is up.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Workplace
August 14, 1984, Boca Raton, Florida
After lunch on Tuesday, I retrieved a copy of my fund's prospectus and took it to my meeting with Steve Harrington, who represented his family's $70 million in the Arrow Fund.
"The main differences in my asset allocation rules and the previous Arrow Fund rules are that I trade currency futures contracts and precious metals contracts, as well as foreign stocks and stock indexes," I said in response to his question.
"What's your plan to maintain your numbers when Volcker goes Lizzie Borden on interest rates?"
"My strategy works with a Treasury yield of 8%. Our estimate is that it's between fifteen and eighteen months away. At that point, I'd use high-grade corporate bonds for a portion of the fixed-income securities I need to hold. When that no longer meets the 8%, I'll use a series of currency and precious metals contracts to ensure I have the necessary cash on hand."
"You hedge nearly all of your bets with options, right?"
I nodded, "That's true, as does Noel Spurgeon. Our funds are properly called 'hedge funds' for that reason, as opposed to the Arrow Fund, which was a growth fund. Fletcher's trading profile was about betting correctly on stocks. That is clearly a legitimate strategy, but in a bear market it becomes extremely tricky, which, of course, I'm sure you know."
"This year was pretty poor all around, for all of us. You're beating the market handily, and I think my family would be OK with the higher risk profile. Will you level with me?"
"Other than revealing proprietary information? Absolutely."
"First, how do you produce these charts?"
"A combination of spreadsheets on a PC and data analytics run on high-performance workstations from Sun Microsystems. Unfortunately, that is the limit of what I can reveal, given all the details are proprietary."
"I understand trade secrets; my family made most of their money on patents my dad licensed. My second question is why the fund was re-registered in Noel Spurgeon's name, not yours."
"I can't speak to Noel's thinking, as he didn't share it with me, but from my perspective, if there's going to be a run on the fund, I'd rather not have it registered in my name. That said, I'm absolutely going to be properly compensated for running it."
"I want to move my money directly to your fund. I'm OK with booking the loss."
"May I advise riding it out until December 31st? I'll turn it around, and you won't book a loss. Well, unless you need the loss for tax purposes."
"No. I'll wait. When do we initiate it?"
"December 14th, as the 15th is a Saturday. I'll be on vacation in Saint Martin at the end of December, but Jack Clinton, my PM, will ensure the transfer occurs. It's just some internal paperwork, then confirming in the computer that the funds have been transferred."
"Good," Steve said. "I think one or two of the other guys may do the same thing. What happens to the fund if most of us pull out?"
"That will be up to Noel, but I would expect it to be liquidated the same as the Wabash Street Fund, with the cash moved to another managed fund, based on risk profile."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. If there's anything I can do for you, just ask."
He laughed, "I'd ask for the same thing Westergard did, but my wife would cut off my balls!"
"That would be a negative complication! Enjoy the golf and drinks."
"I will."
We shook, and I went back to the deck and, over the next hour, spoke privately with each of the other investors, except Bob Westergard, who had, unsurprisingly, disappeared along with Marcie and Isabel. The vibe I received from each of the investors was at least neutral, which I felt was a positive outcome. Just before the shuttle buses for the golf course arrived, Bob Westergard came out of the house with a huge smile on his face. He strode quickly to me and asked to speak in private.
"Thanks for the intro!" he said with what could only be called a shit-eating grin.
"You're welcome!"
"I'm in. I want to move my money to your fund."
"I'd advise waiting until the end of the year," I said. "Doing it now, in order to protect my gains, I'd have to liquidate your holdings and book a loss. I expect to turn things around by the end of the year and will be able to move your positions into my fund. Let's speak on December 14th, and we'll get it done for January 1st."
"I'll give you a call, though I'm sure we'll speak again before then."
"Absolutely. Call any time. If I'm not available, Jack Clinton, my PM, will assist you immediately."
"Thanks, Jonathan."
All six of my clients went to play golf, along with six of Noel's eight, leaving two clients and a bevy of beautiful girls at the estate. I made sure neither Alex Campbell nor Walid Khalil needed anything, then took a dip in the pool to cool off. When I got out, I stretched out on a chaise, checking my watch to note the time so I didn't stay in the sun long enough to burn.
After about fifteen minutes, I got up to get a drink and stand in the shade, and a pair of girls I hadn't seen before approached me. I suspected they replaced the two High School girls who even Noel Spurgeon's money couldn't get into the nightclub. I'd discovered the previous night that Florida's drinking age was nineteen, which explained why there were no problems at the restaurant. Of course, that would change to twenty-one within a year, given President Reagan had recently signed the National Minimum Drinking Age Act, which would withhold Federal highway funds for any state that failed to increase the age to purchase alcohol to twenty-one.
I disagreed with the law, given an eighteen-year-old could be drafted and sent to war but couldn't buy a beer. That made zero sense to me. That said, the law had no impact on me, as Illinois had raised the drinking age to twenty-one before I'd moved there, and Ohio allowed only 3.2% beer at eighteen, though that law was bouncing around and would change again because of the NMDAA. Of course, it hadn't really affected me in Chicago, given there was always someone who would buy alcohol for me, not to mention the cop bar where I could drink beer at eighteen.
"Hi!" a cute girl with Latino features said. "I'm Elena Ramirez."
"And I'm Mei-Ling Chen," an obviously Chinese girl said. "You're Jonathan, right?"
"I am. Are you two at Florida Atlantic?"
"No. We attend Miami."
My brain reflexively added 'of Florida', because Miami University was in Ohio.
"Majors?"
"Marine science," Mei-Ling replied.
"Political science, pre-law," Elena replied. "You're a stockbroker, right?"
"Technically, I'm a hedge fund manager. I don't buy and sell stocks for individual clients, and I'm only allowed to accept accredited investors."
Plus my 'friends and family', which was currently limited to ten, though after Violet and Bianca had joined Spurgeon, Marcia had pulled her funds, and the Boys Investment Club started, I actually had two slots open.
"What does that mean?" Elena asked.
"That you have a net worth of $1,000,000 not including your primary residence; or you have an income of $200,000 if you're single or $300,000 if you're married; or you invest $150,000. There are other ways to become accredited, but they're mostly about trusts or corporations."
"So what do people with less money do?" Elena asked.
"Your best bet is a mutual fund that tracks either the S&P 500 or the Wilshire 5000. You'll basically earn the total market return with low fees. That's the best option for you until you have significant assets to invest. You should start investing the moment you have a salary because the sooner you start investing, the more compounding helps you.
"If you invest $250 a year, or $5 a week, you'll have invested around $10,000 over your working career, but you'll have $65,000 in your account. The more you invest, and the sooner you do it, the more those numbers will grow. And if you can become an accredited investor, you can earn higher returns such that your money basically doubles every six to eight years, and that number suddenly grows to close to a million."
"Whoa!" Elena exclaimed. "It's too bad you don't live in Florida!"
"Let's not be TOO obvious," Mei-Ling teased.
"Oh, please!" Elena laughed. "We weren't invited here for our brains!"
"Actually," I countered, "all of you are in college, and I haven't met a single humanities major — you're all pre-med, pre-law, marine science, chemistry, finance, and so on. I'd say it was a combination of brains and looks."
"So, like you?" Mei-Ling asked.
"NOW who's being obvious?" Elena asked.
"What year are you two?" I asked.
"We'll both be Juniors when school starts," Mei-Ling replied.
Which fit with what Mary had said, and also meant all the girls were at least nineteen so they could get into the club.
"Mr. Kane?" Phillip, the butler, said, coming up to us. "You have a phone call. You can take it in the study."
"Thanks," I said.
"Follow me, Sir."
I excused myself and followed Phillip into the house.
"Line 1," he said when we reached the study. "Just press the button on the phone."
I thanked him, walked over to the desk, picked up the handset, and pressed the flashing button.
"Kane."
"Hi! It's CeCi! I got the internship!"
"Awesome!" I exclaimed. "Congratulations! When do you start?"
"October 2nd. I don't want to keep you, so I'll save the rest for when I see you in Chicago."
"See you on Wednesday evening," I said.
We said 'goodbye', and after I hung up, I returned to the deck. I spoke briefly with the two clients to ensure they were happy, which they were. That was no surprise, given both had several gorgeous, bikini-clad young women basically hanging on them. I got myself a beer, then went to chat with the caterers who were setting up for the Cuban barbecue.
The menu sounded appetizing, with chicken, pork, and beef, all grilled, but served in different ways, along with black bean soup, crab cakes, plantain chips served with black bean dip or salsa caribeña, and tortilla chips with guacamole. The grill master also said that the bar would be serving Cuban drinks — mojitos and «Cuba Libres».
To me, it all sounded great, and I'd need to dance to burn off the calories from all the food I'd be eating. That was doubly true, as I had missed my Monday workout and would miss my Wednesday one. It dawned on me that there had to be a gym somewhere, so I went inside and looked for Rebekah. I didn't see her, so I picked up the phone and dialed #20. She answered almost right away.
"It's Jonathan," I said. "Is there a gym or workout room?"
"Yes. Go through the kitchen, and out the door next to the chest freezer into the garage. Turn left and go through the door in front of you. There are a pair of treadmills, a resistance machine, and free weights."
"Thanks," I said.
I hung up and went up to my room to change into gym shorts, a T-shirt, and gym shoes, then followed her directions and found the gym. I couldn't follow my exact routine, but I could come close. I saw jumping ropes hanging on the wall, so I could use one, as well as the treadmill, resistance machine, and free weights. I started with jumping rope, and continued my workout for about forty-five minutes.
Just as I was finishing my workout, Rebekah came into the gym.
"Get the workout you needed?" she asked.
"I did, thanks. I missed my usual one yesterday, and I'll miss tomorrow. I didn't even think to ask until right before I called you."
"No problem! Is there anything else you need?"
"Not at the moment," I replied. "I'm going to shower, then go back out by the pool."
"Need help?" she asked invitingly.
"Not since I was about five," I chuckled.
"I'll wager anything you care to lose that your showers at five were nothing like the one I just suggested!"
"You'd win that wager quite easily!" I replied. "What about the clients?"
"You mean the ones who disappeared with a couple of the college girls?" Rebekah asked. "Philip will take care of the caterers. If you're worried about Mr. Spurgeon, I hear you're the fair-haired boy, AND I'm positive you know I'm a few years too old for him. If you have the same particular affinity, including virgins, speak to Philip."
That was the last thing I was going to do, and the fact that both Rebekah and Philip were aware didn't surprise me, but it did raise questions in my mind about Noel being caught, because so many people knew. It dawned on me that, despite being terminated, neither Enderlee, nor Taylor, nor Fletcher had turned on Noel.
While the situation with Fletcher and Taylor could be explained by the NDAs and the payments, Enderlee had, in effect, gone rogue, and all things being equal, he should have reported Noel. That caused me to wonder what Noel might hold over someone like Enderlee that would prevent Enderlee from singing like a canary.
I couldn't think of anything Noel might have on me, but it did mean I would need to watch carefully for something beyond the golden handcuffs. The one remote possibility that came to mind was Jeri, but Noel didn't know about that. There was no chance Jeri would say anything to anyone, especially Noel, because that would undermine her ruse of being a virgin.
That brought me to the question of the gorgeous nineteen-year-old in front of me. I couldn't think of a downside, nor any way it might be a setup or trap. She was probably the most beautiful of the girls at the estate, with the exception of Mary, who was still the most beautiful girl I knew, well, except Kara, of course, though Kayleigh gave Mary a run for her money.
"I'm absolutely not interested in anyone who is under eighteen," I said.
"Then it's a good thing I'm nineteen!" Rebekah declared. "How about it?"
I smiled, "I believe I could use some help in the shower. Birth control?"
"On the Pill," she replied. "Have you had a recent VD test?"
"In July," I replied. "Is that something you always require?"
"One of my friends suggested it, because I hadn't ever had one, and I fooled around quite a bit in High School and at Taft."
"Makes sense."
She smiled, then turned and left the gym. I followed her through the garage and kitchen, then upstairs to my room, where I closed and locked the door behind us. I turned to see Rebekah stripping off her clothes, so I followed suit, keeping my eye on her gorgeous figure. We went into the bathroom, I turned on the shower, and once the water came up to temperature, we got in.
Rebekah grabbed the soap and began washing me from top to bottom, not missing any spots, but not lingering, either. Once she finished, she put the soap back on the shelf and had me move under the spray to rinse off. Once the lather was washed away, Rebekah dropped to her knees and grasped my semi-flaccid shaft.
"Let's see how much bigger this gets!" she exclaimed, licking her lips.
She had her answer very quickly, and after a few minutes of oral, she had me sit cross-legged under the spray. She moved to my lap, grasped my rock-hard shaft, and impaled herself on it, groaning as our pubic hair meshed.
"Tell me when you're close," she instructed.
She pressed her lips to mine, our tongues began dancing, and she began sliding back and forth and up and down, her nipples tracing along my chest. I simply enjoyed the sensation of her silky folds sliding along my shaft as she brought herself off twice before I felt the usual pressure begin to build. I broke our kiss to let Rebekah know I was close, and she lifted off, then encouraged me to lie back, which I could, given the size of the shower stall.
Rebekah turned, planted her labia on my lips, and took my glans into her mouth. I put my hands on her firm butt cheeks, pulled her against my mouth, and began tonguing her clit as she stroked, bobbed, sucked, and licked my shaft and glans. I gave Rebekah her third orgasm just before I groaned, and my cum spurted into her mouth.
She continued bobbing, licking, sucking, and stroking for a time after the last spurt, then released me, turned, impaled herself on my shaft, and gave me a searing French kiss, grinding against me until she had a final orgasm.
"10.0 from the Florida judge!" Rebekah declared when her orgasm had passed.
She stayed on me until I softened, then we got up and washed each other's groins.
"I'm sure you'll have company tonight, but if not, call me," Rebekah said as we got out of the shower.
"I'll keep that in mind. Can I ask you about the girls?"
"It's all voluntary. I put up signs, had about forty responses, and chose the sixteen hottest girls who were at least nineteen and good students. I let them know that basically everyone they'd meet was a millionaire several times over. I insisted they all have a VD test, and all of them were clean, obviously."
That made me think about regular testing, though, so many of the girls I'd been with were virgins that the risks were small. The boys were all very concerned about AIDS, but there was no blood test for that. From my perspective, it wasn't much of a concern because it seemed contained in the gay community, though there were reports of it infecting addicts who injected heroin or other drugs.
"Your idea?" I asked. "Or Noel's?"
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