My full name is Alexander Wendel Jeffries the fifth. I don’t like being called my father’s name or his nickname ‘Alex’, so many people call me “Jeff”. My party friends call me “Fifth”, as in “a fifth of gin”, or “a fifth of whiskey”. My five best buddies call me “Roast”. It’s short for “Roasted Nuts”, due to a party that got way out of hand. There was an incident involving the ignition of rum-soaked underwear. Everything’s fine now. There’s just a small area of my scrotum where hair won’t grow.

My grandfather invented the Jeffries Tube which is used in a lot of surgeries, and my father’s company produced and sold millions of them. My mother’s family owned a large chain of banks and investment companies. They looked down on her for dating someone as low-class as a doctor worth only thirty million. Fortunately, she loved him and married him anyway. They became one of the world’s wealthiest couples and left me several billion dollars when they passed away three years ago.

I turned 21 and gained access to all of it a week before spring break started. I spent over fifty million funding what was probably the largest and wildest birthday party in the history of the world. Even kings and presidents would have been impressed.

Everybody I knew, plus all the students from twelve universities, were invited to the huge party in the yard of one of my favorite homes. Hundreds of busses and dozens of charter flights greatly reduced the chance of any drunk driving issues. Colleges let out for Spring Break on Thursday night, and the party ran from four pm Thursday until lunch on Monday.

A few times, the Olympic-size pool was totally filled with people, elbow to elbow. There were long fireworks shows, and three famous bands or musicians played each night. How many people can say that Katy Perry, Billy Joel, and Bon Jovi all performed at their birthday party?

Two dozen strippers took over the stage at eleven, first dancing as pairs, then alternating between male and female. At least a third of my guests were nude or half-dressed by midnight.

As birthday gifts from me, everyone received an envelope when they departed. Most of them got four tickets to their choice of concert or pro sports game. Two hundred people got a week’s vacation at a beach cabana or ski lodge. The luckiest fifty partygoers got new cars.

I woke up with the last nine guests in my oversize bed on Wednesday, a day and a half after the party ended. When my hangover mellowed that afternoon, my chief of security told me there had been sixteen thousand people at one point.

I vaguely remembered having sex with eight or nine women that week, and there were probably at least half a dozen I didn’t remember. I was sure to use condoms, at least until the booze and other amusements fully kicked in. Most things from early Friday until Tuesday are still fuzzy around the edges. My personal physician gave me three injections, which cleared up a case of something annoying I caught at the party.

After the big blowout, I took a week off, then threw large parties every weekend for the next two months. All of them had over 300 guests, and each time I slept with at least three new ladies.

I started to tire of it. After I threw a big beach party at the end of May, I realized I was lacking something important. I decided to try some new hobbies. I bought ten sports cars and had fun driving them at a drag strip and a racetrack. It was exciting at first but lost its appeal before long.

I stayed in touch with several women from the parties, figuratively and literally. Most nights I’d have one or two of them sleep over. They satisfied my bodily needs but lacked something. Most of them were just gold diggers or below-average students looking for the fabled “MRS degree”, marriage to a man who was well off. I was very, very well off. I wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea, so I didn’t spend more than two nights in a row with any of them.

I learned to scuba dive and went on diving trips in five different seas. It was fun, but I felt like I needed something else. I took flying lessons and was close to getting a pilot’s license.

On the way home from the airfield where I kept two of my planes, I saw a dilapidated car parked at an odd angle at the side of the road. Its hazard lights were on, and rain was starting. I wasn’t surprised it broke down. The jalopy looked like it was made of scrap iron held together by rust. I saw somebody waving their arms behind the car. I slowed down a lot and saw a dark-haired girl in a yellow jacket. I figured she was probably just another low-class skank on the way to sell her body or something. Another driver would come along soon and help her.

I wondered what it might be like to bed one of them. Snotty rich bitches and ambitious college girls were getting boring. I wondered what screwing a low-class slut would be like. I knew a lot of them had diseases, but I had condoms at home and my own doctor.

I turned around and parked on the other side of the road. As she approached me, I saw she had a black eye and split lip. She only looked around 18 or 19 years old. Her makeup had been smeared and streaked by tears, and she was starting to cry again. I thought she wasn’t anything amazing, but maybe sexier than average. She might be fun in the sack. Being desperate for money, she’d probably be easy too.

Between fits of sobbing, she quickly told me her story. Her name was Tina, and her younger sisters were Tammy and Lisa. The three of them were fleeing their mother’s boyfriend Henry, who had abused them and their mother for months. They ran to their mother’s car and drove off, as he was in the middle of attacking their mother with a knife. They didn’t have a cell phone and were trying to find a police station when the car conked out. I wondered what kind of person under 90 didn’t have a cell phone.

“Please! He might be after us too! I need to call the cops! Or if you give us a ride? Quick! Just something, please!”

I told them to jump in my back seat. I called the police and handed my cell to Tina, so she could tell them what happened. I drove to a gas station and told them, “Let’s get a soda, then we’ll go see if the cops took care of him yet.”

Tina asked, “We’re out of cigarettes, too. Please?”

I was pretty sure all of them were too young to smoke, but I liked watching girls suck on things and they were having a rough time.

Tina pondered, “We can’t go back if he’s still there! What are we gonna do?”

I didn’t like that the girls were so afraid. I wouldn’t want to live like that. But getting Tina in bed should be easy and fun. “We’ll just drive near your place and take a look. What’s the address?”

I drove into the trailer park and saw four police cars and a SWAT van blocking the road. Officers on foot surrounded the area. I was amazed to think people actually lived in those tiny trailers. Half of them were smaller than my favorite limo.

I parked and we watched the situation. A detective was talking to Henry through a megaphone, “We don’t want to hurt you. Come out, with your hands up!”

Henry peeked out the door. Being far from a genius, he threw a beer bottle. He ducked back inside, yelling, “Come get me motherfuckers!”

A SWAT officer shot tear gas grenades into two windows of the trailer. After a minute or so, we could hear Henry coughing. The officer fired two more through windows on the other side.

We could see a lot of smoke coming from the trailer. Henry ran out holding a burning tear gas grenade with an oven mitt, screaming; “You’ll never take me alive!” He held a knife in his other hand.

He tried to throw the grenade, but due to the oven mitt it flew less than ten feet. One of the cops shot him in the chest with a taser. He twitched and sprawled into the muddy driveway, with the grenade billowing tear gas into his face. He choked and gagged, as two policemen wearing gas masks jumped on him, throwing the cuffs on. As they hauled him away, one of the cops said; “Since we took you alive, these are your rights...”

Two other officers ran into the house with fire extinguishers, then quickly ran back out. We could see large flames above the back of the trailer. I heard a fire truck approaching with its siren blaring, until there was a very loud explosion. Windows were broken in several other trailers. We were stunned a moment, and one of the officers dropped his fire extinguisher as the blast knocked him to the ground.

Tina and her sisters hugged me, crying. “NO! Mom was in there! The trailer was all we had! NO!”

The three girls sadly hugged me, as we watched the fire department hose down the debris that was left. An ambulance arrived, and we saw them carry out somebody on a gurney with a sheet over them. The ambulance left with only a few lights on. We continued the group hug, as the girls cried more intensely.

After they calmed down we climbed into my car, and I watched Tina and Tammy have cigarettes.

I whispered to Tina, “Spend the night with me and I’ll buy what you need.” She looked angry a moment, before nodding.

I told the girls, “I’ll take you to my place. Do you need anything tonight? Toothbrushes, special shampoo, or anything?”

Tina struggle with tears, as she said; “We need everything! All we have left is in our pockets!” I realized they must have left their purses in the trailer, as they ran away earlier.

I hated shopping so much that I paid a personal shopper to do it for me. He did a good job, and I was always pleased with the things that would magically appear in my closet a few times a week.

I would normally never go there myself, but took the girls to a big box store. I didn’t want to drive several places, and they probably wouldn’t mind. I got them bathroom items, purses, duffel bags, and five clothing outfits each. The total was less than I usually paid for a hat.

They were obviously very poor, so I was wary of trusting them at my main house. I took them to one of the smaller guest houses at my estate. It was very quaint, with only four bedrooms and three baths. It didn’t have a music room or bar; so the piano, pool table, and home theatre were all in the same room. It only had one pool and one hot tub, both outside. Spending the night there would be a hardship, but I thought I could make do in order to score my first cheap slut.

I had them each pick a bedroom and put away their things. Their eyes were wide, and they seemed impressed by the little house. To me, it only seemed like a small step above a trailer. Tina said, “We’re kind of hungry, can we get a pizza or something?”

“Of course. Just a moment...”

I made a call and fifteen minutes later one of my chefs, Charles, arrived. He was a cheerful African American fresh from culinary school. He had a crass but funny sense of humor, and I liked him. He brought in a cart of food and supplies. After asking us what we liked, he made each of us a small pizza from scratch.

As he poured Bobal wine he told me, “The 43, as you asked, sir.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

“43” or “44” is code for a cheap or low-quality wine, since 1943 and 1944 were terrible years for most vineyards in Europe. The bottle wasn’t bad, but no better than you could get in a grocery store. I doubted any of them would notice.

The youngest girl Lisa was ten years old. When she took a sip of the dark purple wine, she made a face and asked; “Can I get something else, please? Orange, or a cola?”

As Charles got her a cola from the kitchen, I realized they shouldn’t be drinking at their age.

I asked, “Anyone else? Get what you like.”

Sixteen-year-old Tammy pushed her glass away and got a grape soda.

Tina took another sip of wine and said, “I kind of like this.” At least she was old enough to drive. I thought her hand looked nice holding the wine glass delicately. She had slender fingers and pretty pink fingernails. I didn’t see any rings, so she probably wasn’t seriously involved with anyone.

“I’m glad you like it. Bobal is an uncommon wine from Valencia.” It was uncommon, but that didn’t make it great.

Charles said, “Unless you need anything else, I have a fussy toddler at home and my girlfriend can barely make a sandwich.” The girls chuckled. He showed us a picture of a nice-looking African American woman with a little boy, then he started packing up to leave.

When he was on the way to the door, I whispered to him; “Good luck with your new girlfriend, she’s a hottie.”

He grinned, quietly replying; “Who needs luck, when you’ve got a big black ... wallet.”

The girls looked at us as we laughed. As he left, he whispered; “Good luck with your hotties, too.”

Lisa was only a kid. Tammy was starting to be attractive, but she was only 16. I rarely thought a girl was worth waiting hours for, much less a few years. Tina was the one on my mind.

After dinner the girls looked around some more. They had clearly never stayed in a decent house before. Of my more than twenty homes, it was one of the worst.

I led them to the lounge and played a short ragtime piece on the piano, then a bit of “Great Balls of Fire” by Jerry Lewis. I noticed the piano was slightly out of tune. The girls asked for more, so I played one by Elvis and a bit of Liszt. My mother made me learn to play when I was young because she thought I needed culturing. I kept playing because it’s a good way to impress girls.

Tina asked, “Where can we smoke?”

I led them to the sunroom and opened a few windows. “You can smoke here with the windows open, or outside.” I rarely smoked but I thought it might put them at ease, so I had one too. I did like watching pretty girls smoke, because of the faint resemblance to oral sex. Unfortunately, smoking only seemed to make ugly or average girls look uglier.

Tina saw me staring at her and smiled. When her black eye healed, she’d be a pretty one. From the little I could see of her in her baggy t-shirt and jeans, she had a nice body too.

Seeing the little ten-year-old smoke was just disturbing, but making her quit would only cause additional stress. I’d let it slide for now. I asked, “So what would you like to do next? Darts, pool, video games?”

The two younger ones played a racing game in the lounge, while Tina and I talked in the parlor.

Tina said, “You’ve been really nice and helped us a lot. This place is great! I just wish there was something I could do for you.”

I smiled. I knew of something. I looked in her eyes, saying; “After the day you had, you could use a shower. I’d be happy to wash your back.”

She blushed as she sweetly answered, “I think I’d like that.”

We returned to the lounge and Tina faked a big yawn. She told her sisters, “Don’t stay up too late. I’m going to sleep.”

Without turning to look at us, Tammy said; “Make sure and use condoms.” She was quick, and more aware than a lot of kids her age.

Tina and I nervously laughed. She replied, “Mind your own business, brat.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

I chuckled. I wished I would have had a brother or sister when I was a kid, so I wouldn’t have been so lonely.

In a few minutes, Tina would be naked in my arms. I started getting an erection. As we held hands and walked up the stairs, there was a knock at the door. One of my security people said, “Sir, the local police are at the front gate. Should I have your lawyers send them away?”

“No, bring them here, please.” It was probably about the girls’ mother.

I had nothing to fear. Since I didn’t charge any money for the interesting edibles at the parties, the worst thing I could be prosecuted for would be a few counts of providing alcohol to people under age. Ok, maybe a few thousand counts. But my investments made more in a few hours than any fines I might face.

As I let him in, the police detective saw the young girls and said, “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” I led him and Tina to the parlor and pulled out a chair for her. She smiled as I helped her sit. I sat next to her and held her hand under the table.

The detective said to Tina, “I’m so sorry to tell you, your mother didn’t make it. The good news is, Henry confessed on camera, so none of you need to testify. My condolences for your loss.”

I held Tina as she cried and I told the detective, “Thanks for the information. Have a better night.”

We told the other girls and hugged them as they sobbed. We went back to the sunroom and they smoked again. I was happy to hold Tina in my lap, but realized she would be too sad for sex. I’d continue the experiment and get her tomorrow.

The four of us slept in a pile on the king-sized bed in Tina’s room. I felt her breasts as she slept. They were nicely firm and quite large, I thought maybe double D’s. I felt a little guilty. She had just lost everything. I’d hate if that happened to me. It was nice to squeeze a good pair of tits, though.

When I woke in the morning, there was a text on my phone. “Please feel free to order breakfast when you’re ready, sir.” It was from the early chef, Ann.

The girls enjoyed crepes for the first time, and I was happy the nice meal relieved their grief a little.

Tina asked me, “When do you have to go to work? What do you do?”

I figured I could trust them, at least partly. I decided to play a little and impress them. “Oh no, I’m late! I might get fired!”

Tina worried, “Well, hurry up and get ready!”

“I’m ready, but I’ll need the three of you to come with me.”

We hurriedly got in my car. I drove out the back entrance, the way we had come in. I circled around the perimeter and pulled up to the main gate. I entered the code number, and the gate swung open. I drove the half mile to the main entrance of my mansion and parked in the cul-de-sac around the big fountain in front.

I got out with the girls and walked toward the groundskeeping shed. “I’m a gardener.” We walked around the shed and saw two men pruning bushes. “No, the gardeners are already here.”

I led them up the five-meter-wide marble stairs in front. “I must be a butler.” As we walked in, we saw a butler talking to the Steward. “No, the butlers are here too.”

“Maybe I’m a chef? No, we saw the morning chef already. Maybe I’m a housekeeper.” I led them up the grand staircase, and we saw two ladies dusting the portraits on the walls. “Nope, the housekeepers are here too. I guess I must be the billionaire.”

Tina stared at me seriously for a moment, and grumpily said; “Don’t joke around, what do you really do?”

I led them back near the front door and asked the Steward, “Please tell the ladies who are you, and what you do here?”

“I’m Ian Elwick Andrews, the third. I’m Estate Steward, and my main duty is to oversee the staff who maintain and clean the estate, in order to please the master of the house.”

“And who owns the place, Ian?”

“You do sir.”

The girls’ jaws dropped.

“And what exactly do I own?”

“A large multi-national corporation, this estate, including the three thousand acres and six guest houses. There are two other mansions, a Caribbean island and the hotel on it, a castle, and several condominiums and luxury apartments. There are also about thirty cars and trucks, a helicopter, two yachts, a private jet, and three propeller airplanes, sir.”

“And how much am I worth, Ian?”

“At close of business yesterday, about 53 billion dollars.”

The girls were stunned.

I casually asked Tina, “So, where would you like to go for dinner tonight? Taco Shack, Burger Hut, Italy, Jamaica?”

She suddenly looked angry and slapped my arm. “You lied to us! I knew you were kind of rich, but you never told us you were super, super rich!”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“But ... but that’s a really big thing to leave out!”

I wondered aloud, “What’s the real difference between having fifty million, or fifty billion? Either way, you can give everybody you meet a big stack of cash and not worry about it.”