The Love Of Money - Episode 282
27-08-25 (10:20)
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
“My father taught me never to suggest anything illicit or
illegal,” Astrid said. “That advice has served our family
well. All I will say is that you have Hiro Tanaka coming
after you. If you can’t handle someone like Roger
VanCamp, you won’t stand a chance against Tanaka.
He’s probably aware that you’re having issues with
VanCamp and may even know that he took you
hostage. If you were to take care of Roger decisively,
you might make Hiro hesitate long enough to buy
enough time to broker peace.”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion; she hadn’t outright
said anything incriminating, but she was starting to
sound similar to Psalter- and Chloe. “What are you
suggesting?” I repeated.
“Nothing,” Astrid said, leveling her gaze at me. “I’m only
telling you facts.” The way she said it made it sound
final—when devising a solution to my Roger problem, I
was on my own. I watched her for a few more
moments, though, sure that she was suggesting that I
murder the man. On the one hand, I had a hard time
believing that was what she was actually suggesting.
Still, on the other… it was fitting coming from a woman
who had just spent part of our date waxing
philosophical about moral relativism. Her blue-eyed
gaze returned to my security guards, watching them
with interest while I memorized her fine features. I was
impressed with this complex woman who seemed so
genuine and sincere, yet underneath that velvety
softness, she was rigid. What kind of life had she led to
develop that tough core?
“Hm,” she said. “Too bad for you. She’s gorgeous.”
It took me a second to realize what she was talking
about, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that she
was staring at Chloe, who was watching us. “Do you
enjoy women?” I asked.
“Not especially,” Astrid said. “They feel good, but I really
love men too much.” When I looked back at her, she
broke out in a grin. “Relax. We’re not going to fuck on
the golf course in front of your bodyguard. Maybe next
time we meet.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” I said, still amazed that we were
speaking so casually about fucking each other on our
first ‘date.’
She looked me up and down. “I wouldn’t either. Maybe
you can visit my home sometime.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
She smiled softly as she studied me and said, “Good.
me too.”
We finished our meal, and the waiters packed
everything up. Astrid decided she would play a little
longer but released me from the obligation of staying
with her. I would have been fine spending more time
with her, but leaving didn’t break my heart either—golf
would never be a pastime for me. She gave me a soft,
lingering kiss on the cheek before letting me go, telling
me to let her know if anything significant developed
with my ‘little problem.’ And then she returned to the
two caddies. As we loaded up in the cart, I gave Astrid
one last glance, watching as she laughed along with
one of the caddies at something he said. Then, we
headed back to the helicopter.
The ride back to the club was quiet, a welcome change
after a long conversation over dinner, but I kept
catching myself glancing at Chloe as she operated the
cart. Finally, without looking at me, she said, “There
anything I can help you with, sir?”
“You started a conversation earlier at the funeral. It
was just before Emily came over.”
Three heartbeats passed before she replied, “I
remember.”
“It was about the other day. What were you gonna
say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Chloe said, fixing her eyes on the
trail.
I wanted to protest, but Chloe was always so terse and
stoic that I sometimes still found it unsettling. I stared
at her for another few moments and then leaned back
into the seat as we continued down the road.
After a few more moments, I asked, “Are we gonna
ever talk about that night in Vegas?”
“What night are you referring to?”
I looked back at her and caught her looking back at
me. I studied her freckled face for anything that might
reveal what she was thinking behind that stoic visage.
“You know.”
She peeled her eyes away from mine. “Someday.
Maybe.”
Wednesday 7:00 pm
The faint smell of some kind of cooking meat hit me as
soon as the elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside
the living room. Naturally, I made my way to the
kitchen and found Camille in there, pouring some kind
of broth into a slow cooker. With her back to me, I
could only see tendrils of steam curling around her arms
and wafting past her shoulders and head as she stood
over the large pot.
“Smells good,” I said.
Camille placed the bowl on the table and turned
halfway from her work to look at me; her plush lips
were compressed into a thin line of disapproval. “Sorry
about that, sir. I accidentally left the door open earlier.”
“What’s there to be sorry about? Making the place smell
good?”
“I prefer to not have tomorrow’s food dominate the
house with its smell. It invites hunger before the meal
is ready.” She nodded toward the door I’d just come
through and said, “Your kitchen doors are equipped to
keep most of the smells in the kitchen.”
I glanced back at the door, noting that the edges were
lined similarly to those on exterior doors of houses. It
felt like a frivolous thing to be concerned about, but
then again… I wouldn’t have minded a taste of
whatever was cooking despite having not too long ago.
Maybe there was a logic to keeping the smells of her
cooking contained.
“You mind if I have a taste?” I asked.
She’d just picked the bowl back up and had started
pouring again, wordlessly looking over her shoulder at
me with an arched eyebrow and a closed-lip smile. “A
taste of what, sir?”
Her body language made the double entendre clear.
“Uh… whatever you’re cooking?”
“Of course,” she said, grabbing the ladle on the counter
nearby. I approached as she scooped out half a portion
of the rich brown liquid. She offered the utensil, cupping
a hand underneath it to catch stray droplets, and I took
it from her. She pressed part of her palm to her lips and
suckled off some of the broth she’d caught, her eyes
never breaking away from mine as I sipped. As with
everything she cooked, it tasted fantastic. Erin had
really outdone herself finding this chef. I closed my
eyes and simply savored the taste.
Then I felt something brush my chest and opened my
eyes. My chef was standing close enough to me that
her large tits were brushing my chest. They drew my
attention, and I noticed how the buttons on her chef’s
tunic were straining ever so slightly at her breasts. Her
uniform wasn’t too small, but it was definitely a snug
fit. She retrieved the ladle from me and laid it in the
pot.
“Good?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes falling to her lips.
She gave me a pleased smile, “I’m glad you’re pleased.”
And then she stepped away and returned to the pot,
leaving me with a fully erect cock, thanks to her
teasing. I know I’d just had wild monkey sex with Carla
less than twenty-four hours ago and that Erin had
deepthroated me in the car, but the date with Astrid
and the constant thoughts about Chloe in her
underwear that night in Vegas had me horny again.
Now, my chef was doing an excellent impression of
seducing someone who wasn’t her fiance. I had to
know.
“Are you and William settling in okay?” I asked.
“We are,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I liked him. He seems… nice.”
“Oh… he’s definitely nice,” she replied, and the way she
said it suggested… dissatisfaction?
“Have you guys set a date for the wedding yet?”
“No, monsieur,” she said, slipping another occasional
word of French into her English. “We haven’t.”
I glanced down at her left hand and saw no ring. “You
guys are engaged, right?”
“Oh, we are,” she said, glancing down at her hand. “It’s
a… unique relationship.”
“Unique?”
“Open,” she said, leveling another look at me.
“Oh,” I said, and suddenly a war was going on in my
head. I was sure she was giving some kind of
invitation, but I didn’t want to misinterpret anything.
Camille looked like she was about to say something
when my phone vibrated, and I pulled it out of my
pocket to see that Erin had texted me. Opening it, I
found a close-up of a vagina—it wasn’t Erin’s. However,
on the thigh, just next to damp petals, a dark lipstick
mark had been left on the pale skin. It included a
message from Erin’s phone. Come find us.
The mystery of Camille’s relationship would have to
wait. I had a raging hard-on that needed to sink into
something soft, warm, and wet as soon as possible.
“Sorry,” I said to my chef. “I need to go.”
“Not a problem, sir,” she said with a crooked little smile
and a smoldering stare. “We can continue this
conversation later.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, leaving her to finish
her work.
It didn’t take long to find her. The lighting in the image
ruled out the dungeon, so the next obvious choice was
my room, so I headed there first. I was right.
Erin was stretched across the foot of my bed, lying on
her stomach with her bare feet kicking in the air as she
ran her dainty fingers through her silver locks. As soon
as I walked into the bedroom, her eyes found me, and
she broke out in a brilliant grin. “Hey, Marcus,” she
husked.
Arms tied to the headboard above her, Bobby lay
stretched out across my California King. Straps ran out
from under the bed's sides and held Bobbi’s ankles
apart, showing off her pale inner thighs, covered in dark
lipstick marks. The telltale trail continued around Bobbi’s
mound, up her flat belly, and across both her breasts.
My submissive’s face had more kiss marks left all over
it, and another one was placed squarely on the center
of the red ball gag stuffed in Bobbi’s mouth.
“I wanted to try something a little different with her
this time,” Erin said as she slid up onto her knees,
placing her hands on her thighs as she spread them for
me. “Maybe something more on brand for me… if that’s
okay with you.”
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To Be Continued... Don't forget to leave a Comment 
