2 comments/ 29948 views/ 7 favorites Banker Or Whore - Same Thing Really By: danishmichaela "So mixing with the real aristocracy are we now?" Erik said as I knelt on all fours naked in our apartment. "Yes I guess I am, but it's more his wealth than his title that I am after" I replied as I felt my husband grip my hips, realising that there was rather more flesh there than I liked. I was in Copenhagen for a weekend on my way to a series of meetings in Germany. As usual, we had dinner at a restaurant with plenty of wine then walked to the apartment near the Tivoli and started to fuck. It hadn't taken long for him to undress me just as it hadn't taken me much longer to get him naked. Erik has a good body and a great cock and I had been looking forward to seeing both since my last visit nearly three weeks ago. During that period, I hadn't had sex at all. In the time I had lived in London, I hadn't had any relationships and the only sex I had was with myself, with Erik and occasionally with a five hundred pounds a session, male escort. So, I was continually frustrated and looked forward to my times in Copenhagen where I could have no strings attached sex with my husband. Inevitably, after that we did what longish married couples do, we had a row, but that was worth it to get the satisfaction he provided. Kneeling like that, my full, nicely rounded as he called them tits were hanging down almost vertically and Erik could get at them and my clit at the same time. He eased himself into me, bent forward, squeezed my breasts with one hand, and rubbed my clit with the other. I love having everything stimulated at the same time and soon I was cumming and having my second orgasm of the evening; the first having come from his fingers as he undressed me. * I had lived most of my life in my home city of Copenhagen, although I spent many of my earlier years growing up in the UK and the USA and had been to university in London and then had gained an MBA from Wharton in the US. Returning to Copenhagen to a job in the Danish branch of the investment bank Morgan Stanley I married quite soon after returning and had spent all of my twenty year-long marriage in my home country. Now, though, having moved to England some two years ago to become European MD for Mergers and Acquisitions for a different US owned global investment bank I was getting used to the rather eccentric ways of the British. I was separated from my husband Erik. We hadn't bothered with a divorce for there didn't seem much point as us Scandinavians fucked who we wanted in any case! Our marriage as with most Danish partnerships was open and both of us had a fair share of lovers whilst we were together. After I was offered the promotion Erik refused point blank to consider relocating to the UK despite my likely income increasing several-fold to probably a couple of million, sterling that is! Being a scientist and largely living for his work he had an underdeveloped interest in money. Nevertheless, he still managed to live in our flat near The Tivoli, spend his weekends at our cabin on a lake in the mountains an hour or so drive North West from Copenhagen and take vacations at our holiday home on Longboat Quay in Florida; all of which had been bought with the filthy lucre I earned from the bank. So we parted, although I had been back to Copenhagen most months since my relocation and then we managed to do what married couples are supposed to do, have a few fucks then row! The bank had rented me a flat in Mount Street almost next door to Claridges. Although the bank's actual European HQ was in Docklands the M and A Head office was in Berkeley Square, a very civilised part of London. That meant I could walk to work, something that had always been an ambition, but one I never thought I would fulfil. Given the locations of my new home and office the permanent use of a chauffeur, driven Jaguar and a Porsche for my private use were somewhat unnecessary, but in banking you never look a gift horse in the mouth and you take what's on offer! M and A is incredibly hard work. Long hours, often fourteen a day, weekend working and a murderous travel schedule. I would usually visit at least two European countries each week, be away from home two nights a week on average and either, entertaining or working on deals two others. On top of that I had a monthly visit to the New York Head office and a courtesy visit to one of our major shareholders and source of finance the Qatar Sovereign fund every six weeks or so. Ok it was all done in the luxury of chauffeur driven cars, first class and sometimes private jet travel and five star hotels, but it still took its toll. I am sure I had aged five years in the two years I had been in the job! Still one thing was that it kept the weight down, which was useful as I have a tendency to put weight on quite easily and when I do I balloon up from my 'fighting' weight of one thirty pounds or so to over one forty five. Trouble is that a lot of that extra weigh seems to pile onto my tits, hips and bum, turning my figure from a respectable (ish) thirty-five, twenty-six, thirty-six to a somewhat outlandish thirty-eight, twenty-eight, thirty-nine. In addition, with a lot of that excess going onto my boobs they would swell from a generous C cup to and outlandish D+, and that was with the bra tight! The bank has a policy of rotating MDs every two years or so and recently, I had been moved to head up the Private Wealth Division throughout Europe. This was working with high net worth individuals and families finding investments that provided them with higher returns than they were used to receiving. I was enjoying meeting the clients and discussing their investment strategies and agreeing the risk profile of their portfolios. I had been on a series of European trips meeting our clients in Germany, France, Switzerland, Holland, a few in Denmark, Austria and Sweden. We didn't operate in southern European countries or the Balkans. One of the bank's top targets was, obviously the Duke of Westminster and his family, after all they are one of the richest families in the country. We hadn't yet got a strong lead to that family but we had made good contacts with a close associated family the Cardigans. I first met Lord Dempsy, the seventeenth Earl of Cardigan and thirty-seventh in line for the throne at his home in Cap Ferrat; he also had homes in New York, Palm Springs, Florence and Melbourne. He had many holidays and moved around a great deal. He was Just about as blue blood as anyone other than a royal can be. He had inherited his title and immense wealth a year or so ago when he was thirty-eight after his father was killed in a helicopter accident. We looked after only a small part of his fortune that he held in Switzerland. The larger part, probably seventy per cent, worth two to three hundred million dollars was held in the UK and the US and was controlled by Credit Suisse, our biggest rival in the Private Wealth Management business. Winning the rest of his business was high on the Bank's wish list of new clients. And that made it one of my key objectives. We had a good and quite encouraging meeting at his house and had lunch after it at the Cap Ferrat hotel. There he had agreed to a follow up meeting when he was back in the UK in three weeks-time. I had found out quite quickly that many immensely wealthy individuals were amazingly selfish and self-centered. They were also often very disorganised and many were quite rude, breaking appointments at will and sometimes with little or no notice; they were very difficult to work with. It was quite a surprise then when I got a call from Monica Horrocks who was Lord Dempsy's personal assistant. Speaking with a very plummy accent, something that fortunately was missing from the Earl, she had confirmed that my next meeting with him would be at our offices in Mayfair the following Wednesday. At that, I introduced him to our top team who would look after his investments and as he was in town I was able to have him meet my boss, Mark Le Pencher, a French guy who was the Global Head of Wealth Management. Both being avid boating fans with a huge interest in the America's Cup they got on well. Lord Dempsy no longer kept a London home 'I only go there now for business and most of that I can do online' but instead kept a suite at Claridges on a retainer. Smiling when I learned that I had thought 'We are next door neighbours. As we were chatting after the meetings were finished I told him that. "Well if ever you need to borrow a cup of sugar or,......................anything else do pop round" he'd said holding my hand just a tad longer than was probably necessary. It was nice though. I had now persuaded him to receive a presentation from us and that was arranged for four weeks-time at our Global HQ in New York. The location was at his request as he was spending the spring in America. I was happy with that for it meant I could introduce him to some of the Head Office big guns. "There'll be no need for that Michaela" he had said when I told him. "I know most of them already and Warren and I go back a long way." The Warren he referred to was Warren Emerson the aging Chairman and CEO of the bank and one of Wall Street's most revered luminaries. I had only met him briefly a couple of times. * "So Michaela how are things going with Lord Dempsy?" "Good, everything is in order, we have some great ideas for him" I told the superboss. After updating the global new business diary with the news of the impending presentation, I had been summoned to New York for a meeting with my boss Mark. I was amazed when after that I was asked to the CEO's office. It was rare that executives of my level had one to one meetings with him and I was surprised that he would even know about my 'courting' of the Earl of Cardigan, Lord Dempsy. "Good that's excellent news, but then so does Credit Suisse as would Goldman's, Morgan Stanley, Barclays or even fucking Deutchebank, we need more than ideas, they are ten a penny" he said rather harshly I thought. "What do you mean Warren?" The experienced, septuagenarian, Harvard educated, Ivy League banker looked at me with a stern look "You haven't been in wealth management that long have you Michy?" "Er no" I replied hesitantly feeling a little uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. Warren Emerson was the CEO of the entire bank. He had held that post for seventeen years, which was an age in the industry. He earned well in excess of fifty million dollars a year and ran the bank in an autocratic manner, the typical old-fashioned 'rod of iron' approach. He was married, but was reputed to have a mistress or two and he had a reputation for being a bit of a ladies man. We were in his fortieth floor, huge office that looked out towards Staten Island. I was sitting on a low, black leather chair in the conference area across the room from his enormous desk against which he was leaning. He walked over and standing behind me rested his fingers on my shoulders. "Michaela, wealth management is different to all other forms of banking." "Yes I realise that." "I am not sure you do or appreciate that it is much more personal, intimate almost" was the rather worrying reply as thoughts of being fired went through my mind "What do you mean?" I asked looking at the beautifully manicured fingernails resting on my shoulders. "Managing the wealth of high and exceedingly high net worth individuals especially aristocracy is more than returns Michy" he went on maybe squeezing my shoulder a little more firmly. "Yes I realise that." "I wonder if you really do realise that Michaela." "I do Warren really." He came round the settee and sat beside me. I was wearing a black, Jean Muir suit with an on the knee pencil skirt. As I was in a period where I had put weight on it was probably a little too tight round my hips and bum. Under the three-button jacket I was wearing button up, collarless shirt. The skirt had ridden up to probably seven or eight inches above my knee so I was showing plenty of black nylon. As I was expecting to meet my escort immediately I got to the hotel this evening I had decided to wear holdup stockings and was hoping against hope that I wasn't flashing my stocking tops. With his knee almost touching mine he said. "Wealth management is all about relationships, not returns. All the banks can get those." "Yes of course" I said feeling nervous, something that was unusual for me. "So it is how our people get on with the customer and develop relationships that wins and keeps business my dear. You understand?" "Of course, but other measures also count" I retorted, perhaps not being that wise to be disagreeing with him. He leaned forward and looking me in the eye said softly as totally ignoring political correctness he rested his fingers on my knee. "Yes but that's not your job." I didn't reply and waited for him to continue. "As the boss Michy don't worry your pretty little head about fucking returns" he said looking at my short, slightly spiky blonde with dark streaks hair adding with a smile. "And it is a pretty head my dear and those glasses make you look even more er, if I may say so, sexy. "Thank you Warren" I mumbled now becoming confused. I was wondering whether he was making a pass at me and more confusingly and worryingly wondering even more what my reaction would be if he was! "Believe me Michaela" he went on now softly, almost as if it was an unconscious gesture, rubbing my leg just above my knee. "It's all about developing personal relationships. Nothing more and nothing less, just how you get on with the client, that's all it is. All the rest is down to others." "Yes I see what you mean." "Take this Lord Dempsy character. He's as rich as God and couldn't really give a fuck whether his return is ten or fifteen per cent. He'll never see it or spend it. It's how he gets on with his advisor that really matters." "Yes" I mumbled feeling little shivers run through me as his fingers went a little further up the side of my knee. "And that means my dear how he gets on with you. You get me." I had no real idea what he was on about. "Er sort of yes." "Look Michy you are earning the best part of three mil in dollars aren't you?" "Yes. Yes I am." "I am sure that I don't have to tell you that for that amount I don't expect sort of." "No right of course not" I said as confidently as I could as I watched his hand move round my leg and his fingers slide down the inside the tips being stopped my other leg. "I expect for sure, can you do for sure?" "Yes I am sure I can." "How sure Michy?" He asked, quite pointedly it seemed to me sliding his hand a few inches further up my leg until it nearly reached the hem. I looked at him trying to work out whether he was simply after a quick grope, whether he wanted to fuck me or whether this was some form of test. I didn't reply for a moment or two. But looked at him. "Well?" He asked. "I can do sure." "Are you certain Michy?" He asked inching his hand further upwards until it went under my skirt. I looked him right in the eye. "Yes" I murmured softly, my head whirring with the possible outcomes of this meeting. "Are you really certain my dear?" "Yes Warren I am." "And you are certain you can and will do for sure for Dempsy and his chum Grosvenor." "What do you mean Grosvenor?" I asked realising he was talking out the Duke of Westminster one of the richest men in the world for his family owned most of Belgravia and Mayfair as well as untold acres of farmland and forestry throughout the UK. The family was obviously very high on the bank's list of target clients for in addition to their UK investments they had extensive holding in the US. "Yes but not Westminster, he's just the figurehead. Andrew Grosvenor is whom we need to net. "Yes I will." "You do realise don't you that we, well I, chose you for this job because you are a woman Michaela, a very attractive and incredibly sexy woman." "No I didn't realise that." "Well it seemed natural as most of the clients are men and you have a very healthy appetite for sex." "I beg your pardon?" I asked really not sure what he was getting at. "You know full well what I mean." "Warren I don't." "Michaela please don't treat me like an idiot." "I'm not." "Then accept and realise that I know all about you." "What do you mean?" "Simple my dear. I know who you fuck and when you fuck them." "I am not er, um" I stammered not sure how blunt to be, but then bolstering my courage blurted out. "Fucking anyone at present." "Not that black stud who fucked you on Saturday and who is looking forward to a repeat performance this evening when you will fit him in between finishing work and having dinner with Dempsy?" He said very softly. I realised of course that he must have me and presumably other executives under some form of surveillance. The cesspit that banking has become seemed to be engulfing me as Warren told me the home truths. I tried going for humour as he squeezed my thigh just under the hem of the skirt. "I see" I said seriously, but then tried to lighten the mood with humour. "And I thought it was my brain and success in M and A that got me the job" I retorted with a smile. "Well that as well of course, but then you know as well as I do that the brain is the most erotic organ in the body, don't you Michaela?" "Yes Warren it is." "And so my dear how can you persuade me that you can do for sure?" He asked squeezing my leg and looking me right in the eyes. I held his gaze, leaned back a little and asked. "Does this help?" As I opened my legs. * I had a hectic four weeks before the presentation to Lord Dempsy. It was the start of the bank's budget setting process and I had to visit the eight offices under my control to review their suggestions for the next year. As usual, all the local MDs were cautious and did not feel the fifteen per cent profit increase that I had set them was attainable. That meant considerable haggling and negotiating before the budget finalisation meeting that I had set up in London ten days before the New York presentation. I addition to my enormous workload and the incessant travel I had a further meeting with Lord Dempsy who was in Paris the same time as me. We tied up the loose ends of the presentation process with him advising that his UK accountant, legal representative and financial advisers were needed at the presentation making me feel duty bound to offer to fly them over. "That's enormously kind Michaela thank you very much." With Warren's words on relationship in my mind, I told him that he was very welcome indeed as I looked into his eyes. "Well one kind deed like that certainly deserves a return Michy so when I can I will introduce you to a great friend of mine. He's staggeringly rich and is looking for a new bank to look after his portfolio." "Thank you that's very kind. May I ask who that is?" I said placing my fingers on his arm. "I can't tell you that yet, but I will in due course." At home that evening I was amazed when I answered my mobile and the voice said. "Hi Michy, it's Warren here. "Oh hi" I replied feeling a little embarrassed about what had happened in his office. "I hope you are thinking carefully and remembering what I said about relationships." "Yes I am I have been putting it into practice on my budget tour." After he had cum in his office he had waffled on about how to develop great relationships and had told me things like: always use their name, agree with them, drink what they drink, be hugely empathetic, look into their eyes, listen attentively, ask questions about them, touch their arm or hand, stand close and don't talk much about yourself unless they ask specific questions. I told him that I was doing those sorts of things. He finished with. Whore Or Banker: Same Thing Really A Michy note Although this stands alone as a story it is a follow on to my previous banker/whore submission. I suggest you read that first. I didn't have to fuck Donald Trump. And boy was that a relief. However, I nearly did for the CEO, Warren Emerson, of the global investment bank for which I worked had undressed me, well had largely made me undress myself for him to watch. Then, as I stood in his office on the thirty- second floor of the bank's HQ on Wall Street just wearing my holdups he unlocked the door with his remote control and had said quite loudly. "Why don't you come in now?" I thought he would be inviting the stunningly attractive and hugely sexy young woman who sat outside his office Ms Martinez to come in. But no, in walked Donald Trump. I was mortified. I grabbed my suit jacket and held it in front of me. "Michy, what the fuck are you doing?" Warren said quite fiercely. "Christ Warren, what the hell's going on?" I asked feeling foolish and embarrassed as the rather odious looking Trump stood there, a leering smile on his face. "Michy" the seventy year-old super banker to the stars, famous people and more importantly many of the world's rich said harshly. "I have told you that to get the sort of business we need you have to try very hard and quite frankly covering your tits up to a hugely important customer like Mister Trump is hardly that is it?" "But Warren this is obscene." "Yes Michy, of course it is, it's fucking banking isn't it and that is obscene." I was shaking with nerves and embarrassment as he went on. "Now put that fucking jacket down and let Donald see those lovely tits." I still didn't move as the two men stared at me expectantly. 'How the fuck has it come to this?' I asked myself. 'How have I, a promising banker in her forties, the European Head of Private Wealth Management with over two hundred people working for her got to be standing as good as naked in the top man's office with one of the highest profile businessmen in the world looking at her?' I slowly let the jacket fall to the floor. * Danish by birth I grew up there, in the UK and the US; my dad was in the oil industry and we moved around a lot. I got my first degree from Gothenburg and then my MA from Oxford. I spent a gap year at Harvard Business School before becoming a grad trainee at the recently formed online investment bank Saxo in Copenhagen. After a few years I moved to Deutsche Bank in Dusseldorf, London and Copenhagen. I had been headhunted to my present employer some ten years ago and had been promoted rather too slowly for my liking to Head of Trading in Denmark and then to MD of Scandinavia. It was after running that for a few years that I was offered the post of Head of Mergers and Acquisitions for Europe. That meant moving to London, which my husband Erik completely refused to even contemplate let alone execute. So I went alone and we separated. I ran M and A for two years just about managing the murderous travel and horrendous hours; at least sixty a week including three nights a week away from home and almost weekly visits to New York. Somehow, it all worked. I was then moved to Head of Private Wealth Management for Europe. I was now really on my way in the banking industry for this was a very high profile position. It was my responsibility to make or use the bank's existing contacts with the world's highest net worth individuals and try to persuade them to let us manage all or part of their wealth. Whilst I reported to the Head of Europe, the top brass in New York were heavily involved. It was because of this that I had started working closely with Warren Emerson, the Chairman, President, CEO and a major shareholder in the bank. In world banking terms he really was the daddy. Along with having Obama, Mandela, Cameron and Putin on his Blackberry messaging he had a fantastic range of contacts including numerous film and rock stars, most of the world's business leaders, many of the European royalty and aristocracy from many countries. Whilst the previous positions I had held had tested my business standards many times, my sexual morals had only rarely been tempted. It was not until my latest post and the relative closeness with which I worked with the venerable septuagenarian Chairman and CEO that they were. In fact, they were far more than tempted! But then being Danish I, like most of my fellow countrymen have a much different outlook on sex and sexuality come to that than do people from most countries. We are brought up in very liberal and sexually liberated way and recognise sex for what it is, fun and pleasure and something to be enjoyed with whom you choose and when you choose. I found the upper echelons of the massive, global bank to be so different to anything I had experienced and working with such a banking luminary as Emerson to be beyond anything I would have previously imagined. Hours didn't seem to exist and it seemed meetings were just as easily called at eleven at night, or on Sundays as at more usual times. Whatever time we met there was always staff on call to cater for our every information or catering whim and the guardian of Warren's office Ms Martinez was always there. I wondered if she actually lived at the bank as there were floors that nobody was allowed to visit. All aspects of investment banking eats up incredible amounts of money, but in the rarefied atmosphere of the very top it really was obscene how much was consumed. Take out meals from top restaurants, thirty and forty year old wine at two and three hundred dollars a bottle, limos, helicopters and the company jets on permanent call, thousand dollar a night suites at the top hotels and subscriptions to the classiest and most expensive sex clubs and escort agencies. It was only after I had been working in that environment with Warren for a few months that I began to realise just what devious, underhand and quite frankly criminal practices went on at the top of the banking industry. Phone tapping, email hacking, bugging hotel rooms, private filming with micro cams and surveillance were just the tip of the iceberg of the tricks Warren and his inner team used to get competitive advantages over their rivals. On top of that they had contacts supply drugs, booze, run orgies and provide girls and boys for sex. As far as I could tell as I gradually learned about what went on, there was nothing they wouldn't stoop to get what they were after. And that included having a cam and microphone in the corporate suite at The Pierre where I stayed. Not only where I stayed, but also where I had used a black, male escort to fuck me three times one evening. When I had fucked Lord Dempsy the British Earl and later had a fantastic threesome with him and the Right Honorable Andrew Grosvenor a cousin to the Earl of Westminster, the richest Englishman alive I had thought it was all my own doing. It was only later when the pair of them had placed over a billion pounds under the bank's control that I realised that Warren had been behind it all the time. But more to the point it was only when I began having contact with the head of the bank that I realised there was little difference between being a banker or a whore. And more to the point I realised that I was becoming Warren's whore. * "You can forget the high wealth individual's job" Warren said a few months after the episode with the two members of the British aristocracy At the time we were having a hundred dollars a plate take out from Belthazar as dinner in his office. "Why what have I done wrong? I asked assuming I was being fired. "I have a bigger job for someone with your special talents" he said. I finished my Kobi Japanese steak that I worked out with my banker's mind had cost around fifty dollars a bite. We moved to the couch with our glasses of Petrus that I had noticed was twenty years old. He put his hand on my leg just above my knee. I didn't move or push it away. I had learned that was not the thing to do if a girl wanted to get on in the rarefied atmosphere of the upper echelons of corporate banking with Warren Emerson. "And that is what Warren?" I asked as he slid his hand up my stocking covered thigh. Warren and I had shared some sexual experiences, but we had never fucked. He was over seventy and married and it was rumoured that he had a couple of mistresses. Now I suppose I could, theoretically be added to that list, but we never went to a hotel or anywhere. All that went on between us happened in his office, which was admirably guarded by the inimitable Ms Martinez. I was continually expecting him to introduce her to our rather bizarre sexual activities. I knew that from the information he had on me he would know most, if not everything about my past and present sex life. And that would tell him that I would probably not be averse to such an introduction. "Our problem" he said as he started rubbing my leg on my black holdups just above my knee. "Is not sales Michy." "No, so what is it?" I asked. "Quite the opposite" he said moving his fingers up my still closed legs. "What do you mean?" "After the sub-prime fuck up, Northern Rock and Bear Sterns here and the fucking Lehmans everywhere we have to increase our reserves." "Yes I realise that Warren I do read the papers." "Yeah right. Did you know that Basel three the global agreement on the ratio between lending and borrowings stipulated around twelve to fifteen times reserves can be lent out." "Yes I had heard that, but wasn't there a 'gentlemen's' agreement to ignore that? "Yes Michy there was a fucking agreement, but it wasn't between fucking gentlemen it was between bankers." "I see." "Did you know?" He asked slipping his fingers up my thigh a little. "Know what?" "That just before Lehmans went tits up their lendings were at forty times their capital, the stupid fuckers, they were borrowing short and lending long." "So what has this to do with me?" I asked feeling mild frissons of excitement as he caressed my leg mid-way between my knee and pussy. Powerful men can be quite an aphrodisiac to some women. Successful businessmen can be a turn on to them. Immensely wealthy people can have a sexual aura about them. The very top man in a major global bank can be all those things to one of his employees and Warren Emerson was all of those to me. Undoing the buttons on my white blouse with his other hand he said. "I am going to appoint you Head of Capital Reconstruction for the Global bank." "Jesus" I gasped realising just how senior a post that was. "And that will be reporting directly to me" he went on easing my D cup breasts out of the white, lacy, Janet Regar bra. "Thank you Warren, but why me?" "Take your bra off Michy" he ordered. I didn't for one moment think of disobeying him. I slipped my black, DKNY jacket and white, Perla blouse off, unclipped my bra and removed that. We sat there on the sofa as I asked. "Why me Warren?" "Because all banks are in the race. We are all chasing the same pot of dough and that's from governments and different sources than we normally use." "I see" I said not really understanding why he had selected me. "And it will take more to persuade the sovereign funds." "More what?" I naively asked as he slid his hand further up my leg so that it was under the hem of my black pencil skirt. "More of what you have my dear" he said sucking my oversized, very erect nipple. Now beginning to realise what he meant I pushed my breast harder against his mouth. "And what's that Warren?" I asked gasping as he bit my nipple just a little too hard. He slid his hand further up my skirt the hem of which was already more than half-way up my thighs. "I think you know that very well my dear, as did Dempsy and that stupid cunt Grosvenor" he said pressing his fingers downwards into the crease where my legs were pressed together. "Do I Warren?" I said now enjoying this erotic charade. "Yes I think you do Michy. I think you know how to be very persuasive. I think you know what you have to use to be persuasive to the level we need to get that pot of dough, don't you my dear." Looking him in the eye and smiling I said. "Yes I think I probably do Warren" as I opened my legs. He made me cum with his fingers and then told me to undress apart from my stockings. And that's when he brought Donald Trump into his office. After the mildly embarrassing few moments when I had eventually let the jacket fall away from me Trump had seen enough and he left. He had seen what was necessary, what he could use and leverage with his contacts and that was me. After he had gone, Warren had me give him a blow job. He explained that Trump was now impotent. "That's why he didn't want to fuck you." "Why did you say he could?" I asked feeling annoyed and terrible, but in a way also excited that he felt he could offer me around like that. "Of course I did, he has got some excellent contacts." "Warren that's not fair, I am not your whore." "No?" He said going into the bathroom and cleaning up. "Michy" he said when he returned his zipper now done up. "How much did you earn last year?" "With bonuses and profit shares?" "Yes." "Just over three mil." "And how many clients did you fuck for that?" "Just the two, but that was my choice?" "Yeah like fuck it was, I set them up." "You didn't." "Oh yes I did." "You bastard." "Yes I am a bastard aren't I letting you earn three mil just for fucking two British bluebloods." I didn't reply and he went on. "So if you want to get that up to five mil, working directly for me and being responsible for restructuring the bank's capital you will have to fuck a few more than that won't you?" * I hadn't realised that Trump had such good contacts with so much money. The only problem was that the initial introductions mostly had Italian sounding names and talked a lot about their 'family!' I was called to a meeting with Warren, his top advisor, Brian Barclay and a representative from the Trump organisation. It was to discuss a potential capital injection of two billion. The bank's, well mine now if I wanted that five mil pay packet, target for the year was twenty billion so this was a significant sum and would get me off to a great start. And boy did I want that five million! "We've been working on this fucking capital injection for three months now" Warren started off as we sat round the conference table in his office. "It's taking longer than refinancing the Eurozone. What the fuck's happening Barclay?" As was Warren's way he went straight to the point and put the person responsible right on the spot. Brian started explaining about the issues and problems, Warren interrupted him. "Look there's us, Goldman's, Morgan Stanley and JP all involved. How do we make it ours for fuck's sake?" Brian didn't answer for a moment or two and avoided eye contact with his and my boss. "Perhaps we could get Michaela involved?" he said looking from Warren to me and back again. "Then get involved Michaela and do whatever the fuck is necessary to get the fucking business" he said as Ms Martinez leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "I have to go, but you guys work on it and we'll meet here tomorrow evening when I get back from Camp David. The three of us went over what had been tried so far and what was on the table at present. "You will have to go to Sicily to meet Paulo" Trump's aide told me. "Do we need to meet?" I asked rather naively I guess, but then at that time I was really only a trainee whore! "After all with the net and cams and email we could almost be face to face." "You don't understand Missus Henrikson, none of Mister Trump's introductions will wish any records to be kept." "How will any transfers be made then?" "That is your job to work out. All Senor Contonese will require is a certificate of investment confirming that whatever vehicle you and he decide as the investor has the two billion capital in the bank." I had been in the new job for three weeks and I was still operating out of London, but had frequent long calls with Warren and others of his inner cabinet. I had been over to New York three times and had discussed the Contonese prospect with Warren and Barclay and their two closest advisors. We all agreed that it probably was organised crime and that the money was hot. That was the reason they were willing to invest the two billion with no interest or guaranteed dividends. As Brian Barclay had said after Warren and Trump's man had gone. "They, well you actually Michy gets the money into the bank's coffers somehow. They leave it there a few years and then bingo take it out, or we invest it for them somewhere else and it's all nice and clean. Classic money laundering and all legal." "Yes but it's the get it in that's the problem" I said. "Well that's always my problem too, but not with money" he said surprising me with the double entendre. "I am sure you'll find a way Michy." "Yes I guess so I usually do" I smiled back. Paulo Contonese was the head of the family, in movie parlance 'The Don.' He was under threat of arrest if he stepped into the US, although the legal and immigration authorities had come to an agreement not to seek extradition from Italy if he did not try to enter the US. The family had been involved with most rackets, drugs and illegal gambling, but had for the past few years been seeking to 'go legit.' They had reputedly built up an enormous cash mountain in numbered accounts in Switzerland and several cash hills in other tax havens such as Liechtenstein, Panama and the Virgin Islands. I flew first class from London to Naples on a Sunday afternoon and then on to Palermo in the North of Sicily that evening. I was met at the airport by Meekle who worked for Contonese. He took my carry on pull bag and led me through the terminal to a Mercedes limo waiting right outside the main door in a no parking zone. There were a number of carabinieri standing round smoking and laughing. They made no effort whatsoever to interfere. I saw that the large, black Merc had darkened windows so I couldn't see in to it. Meekle put my bag in the trunk and opened the rear door. Bending forward I looked in and saw a distinguished looking man sitting on the seat. "Welcome to Palermo Missus Henrikson, I am Paulo Contonese." Bent over with the top of my body in the car I reached out and shook hands. "I am very pleased to meet you Senor Contonese" I said hugely impressed that the great man had taken the time to meet me. As I shook his soft hand I cursed the, what in most bodily positions would be a perfectly respectable neckline of the pale pink, silk tee shirt type top I was wearing under the dark blue, linen jacket. It wasn't tucked into my jeans. Leaning forward and reaching out was not one of those bodily positions and I was acutely aware that the material gaped alarmingly. I was equally aware that 'the Don' could see right down it. Catching his gaze as I completed my entry into the car I saw the slight smile and glint in his eye that men have when seeing something of a woman that they perhaps shouldn't. 'What a fucking shambles' I thought sitting down as he went on. "I hope you had a pleasant flight" he said with a fairly heavy accent. "Yes I did thank you" I said half turning so we could look at each other. "And it really is very nice to er, um .........see you" he said smiling and using a clear, well I thought it was, double entendre. I didn't know what to say so mumbled. "It's very nice to be here and to see you." "Well I hope we see a lot more of each other" he said again with a double meaning. I didn't reply. He went on. "I have heard a lot about you from Senor Trump, he speaks very highly of you." Whore Or Banker: Same Thing Really "That's kind of him" I replied crossing my legs in the skinny jeans I was wearing. "But I hardly know him I have only met him once" I said recalling the meeting in Warren's office when I was wearing only black holdups. "So I understand, he told me about it." 'Oh bollocks' I thought wondering just how much Trump had told him. I watched as Contonese moved his legs so that his feet were pointing at and were close to mine in the mid-height heeled, strappy sandles. My deep burgundy painted toe nails were poking out from the Jimmy Choos. "And of course I have spoken to Warren and to Brian Barclay, but mainly Warren and he too speaks very highly of you." He spoke to the driver in Italian and then pressed a button and the window between the rear and front went up. "So tell me Michaela, I may call you that?" "Yes of course or Michy if you prefer." "And please use Paulo." "Thanks Paulo." "You are most welcome Michy. So now tell me about your plan for getting the money into the bank. I explained the rather complicated method I had worked out to move the two point four billion dollars from the various countries where they were stashed. The idea was to get all the money into Qatar where the bank had an existing, long-term arrangement with the ruling Thani family. Their sovereign debt was acting as a guarantor on large parcels of the bank's capital, hence no money actually 'changed hands.' They would then include the Contonese money with their sovereign debt and provide Contonese with, in effect, an IOU based upon options to buy liquefied natural gas at a huge discount. Hence, if the bank went tits up he would still have the IOU and Qatar would own what was left of the bank. Paulo listened intently as I explained it all while we drove fairly slowly through the rocky barren landscape of Northern Sicily. He asked a few question that I answered and then said. "Mmmm, that all seems fine now just one more thing Michy." "Yes Paulo." "Would you undress now?" * Back in New York a couple of days later I felt like a returning Roman warrior. Everyone on the thirty-second floor, which was where all the top executives including Warren were located seemed to know that I had pulled in the two bil. I was congratulated by the heads of most departments and received emails from many more all over the world. I didn't hear anything from Warren so I worked all day on finalising the details of the plan to move the money from the various countries into Qatar. It was just after six when my phone rang. "Hi Michy" the dulcet tones of Ms Martinez oozed into my ear. "He'll see you at eight in his office." As usual I was wearing a suit. That was almost mandatory for women in Warren's bank. This one was a light grey wool with a skirt that ended a few inches above my knee and a long, hip length two button, quite wide lapelled jacket. Under the jacket I was wearing a shirt with the open neck collar outside the collar of the jacket. It had buttons all the way down the front and only a demure two were undone. I was wearing it outside the waistband of the skirt and as I thought I might be seeing Warren some time during the day I was wearing black holdups. After I had pulled them on this morning in front of the mirror at The Pierre I had wondered how they looked against the white of my Agent Provocateur diaphanous thong and bra. The virginal white with the sinful black made an interesting contrast and I wondered what Warren would think. "I hear you had a result" Ms Martinez said as I waited to be allowed in. "What the capital injection?" "Yes, whatever that is" she smiled adding. "I don't understand such things" just as the light on her desk flashed. "He's ready now in you go" she said her gleaming white teeth sparkling and her big almond-shaped brown eyes holding my gaze probably just a little longer than it should. As I walked past her she said very quietly. "Enjoy." I was hardly through the door and hadn't even seen Warren when he said. "Well done Michy, I hear you used the persuasive techniques we have discussed to good effect with the mafia chieftain." Once again I was surprised at just how well Warren was informed. I was even more surprised when I saw him for he was lying full length on the sofa naked. I had never seen him in the nude before. For a man of his age he had a good physique. There seemed to be no spare flesh on him, he looked fit and wiry and he had a nicely hairy chest. He was flaccid, but lay there with not a hint of embarrassment as I stood beside the couch. "Sit down Michy" he said indicating the space on the couch between his feet and the arm. "Have you spoken to Paulo?" "No there's no need." "What do you mean?" "I prefer to hear it from the horse's mouth as it were." "Huh?" "I want to hear from you Michy everything that went on?" "Everything?" "Yes, I am assuming he fucked you" he said standing up walking behind me. He put one hand on my shoulder and ran the other through my spiky blonde with darker streaks hair. I didn't reply as he removed my glasses and carefully placed them on the smoked glass and black metal six feet long coffee table. "So Michy?" he said sliding his hand down inside my blouse right onto my right breast. "How much do you want to know?" I asked as his other hand slid onto my other boob. "You know me Michy I have an insatiable need for information so tell me everything." I could feel the familiar sensations of arousal by this intriguing older man building up as he put this unusual proposition to me. "I want to know every detail of how Don Paulo Contonese fucked my Head of Capital Reconstruction" he said patiently undoing the buttons on my blouse and easing my tits out of my bra. "Warren this is silly, I can't do it." Pinching my nipple hard he said harshly. "Michaela you know full well that you can do it." He pinched the other one even harder making me wince with the pain as he went on. "And you know full well you will do it." He pulled on both nipples so that they were about half an inch long rather that their normal when aroused just over a quarter. "And you will do it because I tell you to do it and because you will excite yourself by doing it so fucking well get on with it?" I hated hearing him say such things and indeed do such things to me. I realised that to the likes of a billionaire, world renowned successful business man like Warren I was merely a chattel, a slave in some ways, albeit a very well paid one. Although I hated what he said and what he did I couldn't help admitting to myself that really he was dead right. "He was waiting in car outside Palermo airport" I started as he pulled my jacket off. "What type of car?" "A Merc limo." "Nice, he has class I know, but eyties usually do." "One of his men put my pull bag in the boot, sorry trunk and I got in the car." "Did his man get in as well?" "No." Warren asked what I was wearing and I told him. "Was the top low cut?" "Fairly?" "So when you got in did he see your tits down the front?" "Yes I think he did." "Ok go on" he said squeezing and cupping my tits. "He said something in Italian to the driver." "Siculu" Warren said. "What?" "That's what he speaks, it's Sicilian not Italian." "Oh ok. Well he put the window between us and him up. The car had one way windows I had noticed when I was waiting to get in." "So no one could see in, good protection for a man like him." "He asked about the plan for us moving the money without documents and evidence. I explained to him about Qatar and their sovereign debt. He like the idea." "Yes it is a good plan, well done my dear" Warren said removing my blouse and leaving me sitting there with only my bra on above my waist. "That took no more than ten minutes." "What did he say when you had finished?" Ridiculously feeling nervous I replied. "He said I have one more question Michy. I asked him what it was and he said. 'Would you undress now please?" "How did you feel at that?" "Firstly shocked and pissed at you and Trump for I guessed you had told him that he could have sex with me." "Well that was fucking obvious wasn't it? Why else would Trump want to see you naked?" I didn't reply, but went on. "I then looked at him and he said 'your answer could be very influential on where my business goes' and that Warren I swear turned me on." "I know" Warren replied kneading my breasts and sort of rolling them around as all the time he pinched and pulled my nipples. "You are a thrill junky. Power and winning is your buzz Michy." I realised that he was right, well I had to really as once more I was in his office having sex wasn't I? "I demurred at first, but he said 'within an hour Michy three important things can happen.' I asked what they were and he replied 'we can have sex, you will get the business and you can be back here in time to catch the evening BA flight from Napoli.' Smiling at the sheer simplicity linked to the confident manner I replied you mean four things don't you and he asked what was the fourth. I said me undressing. He smiled and said yes that is the first so do we have a deal? I didn't say anything, but looking him right in the eyes I removed my jacket. Doing that I had to arch my back a little and that made my boobs stick out more. He said you have great breasts Michy." "Mmm yes" Warren said. "I know that" as he continued caressing them from where he was standing behind the couch and I was sitting on it. "Thank you Paulo I said staring him right in the eye as I took hold of the hem of the silk top for I had made up my mind. He had a small smile on his face as with one movement I pulled the top up, over my head and off. Oh yes Michy they are lovely he went on. I said glad you like them and he replied laughing I take it your answer is yes. I smiled back as I reached behind me, undid my bra and pulled the cups away from where the perspiration was making them stick to me my boobs. I said I think I will keep you guessing Paulo." "You fucking tease, like all women" Warren said letting go of me and walking round the couch. He leaned back against the conference table. I saw that he was half-hard. "Can't be seen to be too easy can I?" "Be as easy as you fuckingwell like for two point four bill" Warren muttered stroking his cock. "Come on get on with it." "He looked at my topless figure and muttered something in Sicilian I guess and then broke into English saying they really are lovely Michy as he cupped them and gently caressed them. I moved a little closer to make it easier for him to touch me and our legs pressed together. He kissed each breast and then sucked my nipples one by one into his mouth. I cradled his head in my hands and ran my fingers through the hairs on the back of his neck as his hand slid down to between my legs. He rubbed my mound through the blue denim and muttered. 'May I?" as his fingers found my belt. He undid that as he continued sucking and licking my tits and nipples and then eased my zip down and slipped his hand inside. He rubbed my clit and ran his fingers along my lips that were outlined by the silk of my panties." Pausing for a moment I looked at Warren and saw that he was nearly hard. "Ok Warren?" I asked. "Mmmm I am enjoying it." "What do want to do?" I asked feeling rather overdressed in my skirt, panties, stockings and shoes. "Just keep on talking, leave the rest to me." "I wriggled away from the seat across the soft, thick pile carpet so that my back was in the angle between the door and the bulkhead. I finished pulling the zip down and very inelegantly removed the tight jeans so I was just in a blue silk thong. Paulo said you look lovely my dear and stay just like that but play with those lovely tits. He removed his shirt and then his trousers. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, but with his legs bent I couldn't see his dick. I was rolling my tits around in my hands and pulling on my nipples as I worked myself up even more. Kneel on all fours he whispered crawling to the edge of his seat so I saw his cock for the first time. My initial thought was he's like a fucking donkey for he must have been a good nine inches and very thick. He crawled across the floor so he was close to me and gently removed my panties smelling them before putting them in my hand bag. Mustn't let the Missus find these must I he smiled? On all fours my tits were hanging and he cupped them with one hand as he slid the fingers on the other along my pussy lips. After a few moments he pushed some up me and found my clit with another. He finger fucked me very nicely an quickly made me cum. I fell onto my front on the floor." I could see that Warren was now as good as fully erect and was starting to masturbate, that added to me excitement. "Go on" he growled pumping away. As I rubbed my breasts while Warren looked on I continued. "Paulo manipulated his body so that he was behind where I was still lying on my front. He got between my legs and took hold of me by my hips. He lifted my bottom up, but my face stayed resting on the carpet. He wiggled forward and let go of my right hip presumably I assumed to hold his cock. I had a mad fear that he was going to try anal and with the size of his dick and the lack of lubrication I knew that would be awful. Fortunately I was wrong for I felt him pressing the end of it right against my lips that were far from unlubricated. One shrug and it whooshed up me." "Oh fuck Michy" Warren groaned getting up and walking over to me. "Was it a good fuck?" "Yes, it was deep and long, fast and slow and gentle and aggressive, just like a fuck should be" I told Warren as he stood over me. "Get lower down" he ordered now wanking faster and faster. I knew what he wanted to do so I lay back in the corner of the couch, still in my skirt and caressing my tits that felt ready to explode. I went on. "He was a great fuck Warren. He lasted a long time and made me cum twice before with a loud grunt as he held my tits tight he shot his spunk deep into me." I had timed it just right for as I told one man about how another had cum in my cunt the first one shot all over my face and tits. Banker Or Whore - Same Thing Really "And Michy always remember that most men will want to fuck you, so at least give them the feeling that they have a chance. An air of availability is one of the most erotic feelings for a man. And we both know don't we that in the right circumstances you can make yourself available can't you?" "Yes" I mumbled quietly feeling duly contrite, rather guilty and quite ashamed of myself. "Because you see Michy that way you will be persuasive, get it?" Sitting in my apartment in Mayfair sipping a cognac after the call ended my mind quite naturally went back to the afternoon in Warren's office I could recall almost word for word and deed by deed what was said and what had happened. "Oh yes my dear" Warren said huskily as I leaned back and parted my legs. "That could be very persuasive." Without hesitation, he slid his hand further up my leg. "Oh my God Michy" he groaned when his fingers felt the skin between my black thong and the tops of the stockings that I was wearing to impress the black, male whore who would be fucking me later. With one hand he yanked my skirt further up and pushed me so that my back was against the arm of the sofa and with the other he picked up a remote control and clicked it at the door. "I don't think we need any visitors, not even the delicious Miss Martinez do we? He said mentioning the gorgeous looking Jennifer Lopez lookalike who sat outside his office doing what no one knew. "That is sensational Michy" he groaned staring at the front of my black thong, the black stocking tops and my creamy white upper thighs. He rubbed along the gusset of my panties as sighing and moaning he slid his other hand up and cupped my boob outside the shirt. He found my clit and rubbed that as he muttered. "Oh yes Michy this is very persuasive." He made no attempt to kiss me or get my tits out and seemed content to rub me, well at least for a while. I found myself hating what I was doing, but at the same time I could not resist the pleasure his fingers were giving me. "Undo your shirt" he grunted. I wanted to refuse, but that was impossible and soon my white painted fingernails were fumbling with the buttons undoing them one by one. When I had dressed that morning I knew I would be removing my jacket during the day so I wasn't wearing a matching set of underwear; my bra was white lace from Perla. About as flimsy and delicate as a garment that was supposed to give some support could be it was as good as see-through. He liked that. "That's a beautiful, no, well it is beautiful, but more so Michy it's a very persuasive sight. Undo it and let me see them" he went on still rubbing me outside my panties. I was near to cumming and in other circumstances I would have willingly given into the sensations, but in the position I was with the head of the entire bank and one of the very top bankers in the world, I was resisting strongly. Reaching behind me, I undid the clasp and let him slide the cups off my breasts. "Those lovely nipples Michy" he whispered licking them and sucking one into his mouth as his finger pushed my panties to one side. His finger slid along my wetness and slightly inside. Standing in my living room with those recollections running through my mind inevitably aroused me and I found my hand that wasn't holding the cognac stroking my breast. Staring out of the window at the Mayfair streets below I was tempted to masturbate and had a mad urge to pull the curtains back, put the lights on and do myself to whoever might be watching. I didn't though and instead went back to bed. As I recalled his finger on my pussy I remembered that I had grunted with the surge of pleasure. "Do you want to cum?" He asked sliding a finger or two in me and sucking my nipple at the same time. I didn't want to say or do what I did, but cradling his head I moaned. "Yes. Yes please I do." His fingers then became straight and firm just like a cock. Sucking my nipples in turn, he pumped his fingers in and out of fast and firmly. I was soon cumming. "Oh yes Michaela that really is very, very persuasive" he muttered as my climax erupted. He took his hand away from my pussy leaving me lying back in the corner of the leather settee my skirt bunched round my waist, my blouse unbuttoned, my bra unclipped and round my lower chest with my breasts bare; a sordid scene indeed. He moved away from me as if to avoid any affection. "Good Michy?" He asked from where he was standing his back turned towards me "Yes" I said lifting my bra in preparation for getting dressed. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" He asked as he turned. "Getting dressed." "Not so quick, young lady. I'm not totally sure you have been as persuasive as you might" he went on walking back towards the sofa. I looked up at him and watched with a touch of horror as he undid his zip. As calm as anything he slid his trousers off and sat beside me. "You need to be a little more persuasive Michy, just as you may have to be with his Lordship and his buddies." The whole bizarre series of events was becoming messier by the moment. I realised that after he had made me cum I would have to return the favour and I thought that he would want to fuck me or at least make me give him a blowjob. I was also a bit, no very I suppose pissed about his reference to Lord Dempsy. But there wasn't time to ask questions or debate just how 'persuasive' I might have to be to win the business for he was getting his dick out; it was only half-hard. I looked at him enquiringly. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. I instinctively rubbed and stroked it and was pleased when it started to grow. He lay back, pushed his boxers down and pulled the tail of his shirt up and away from his cock. "Now Michy be very, very persuasive indeed. Give me one of those lovely tits to suck and a hand job to make me cum, but make sure none goes on my shirt." After we had finished he let me clean up, after he had, in his private bathroom. As I had probably 'leaked' I took my panties off and secured them deep in my large bag. I then joined him back in his office feeling distinctly sordid. "Ok well that was nice Michy. See it's all about relationships and not fucking returns so now go and get Dempsy and do your best to be persuasive to his chum Grosvenor." I didn't get what he meant about Grosvenor, but wondered whether that could be who Dempsy was going to introduce me to? * I was scheduled to work with my team, who had flown over with me and the New York presentation guys, over the weekend to finalise the pressy to the top brass on the Monday before the real thing at two in the afternoon on the Tuesday. All over that weekend I was on such a high. The excitement and anticipation level was enormous. It was almost as if I was having a permanent orgasm. I so badly needed sex that I called the escort agency I had used several times before, actually the time when I had gained my promotion to European Head of M and D. The black guy I had used then wasn't available, but another was and he turned up at my suite in the Pierre at just after eleven on the Saturday evening. We fucked like rabbits until the early hours. He was so fucking good that I gave him a five hundred dollar tip on top of the thousand-dollar fee. Despite that, I was at the Wall Street Headquarters by nine thirty on the Sunday morning. That aside, I had arranged for him to come back early on the Monday evening for another grand's worth of light entertainment! We were in a meeting just after lunch on the Monday. I'd had a good day with the investment team and the group that was putting the presentation together and having a meeting lined up with him added to the excitement I was already experiencing from the anticipation of my pre-dinner session with my male escort. I finished the odds and ends of the presentation in a state that varied between disgust at myself and Warren, horror at the way banking was going, excitement about the chance of landing a huge account and anticipation of what I was expecting at the Pierre. I was due to dine with Mark, my boss and my team so I had only a couple of hours between five thirty and seven thirty. I had received a text on a phone I used only for my very private stuff, mainly setting up assignations with male escorts. It simply said. 'C is available if required.' It had come through just after I left Warren's office with damp panties and a guilty conscious. At first, having just cum, I considered replying 'thanks but no thanks' and canning the early evening adventure. But then, having had a finger induced climax, I knew the satisfaction from that wouldn't last so I text back. 'Fantastic I will see him at five' I replied greedily gaining another half hour of what I hoped would be sexual decadence. I was a little worried about what Warren had told me about him knowing that I had received an escort the day before and even more so that he knew I had one lined up for this evening. I had, of course, thought of cancelling it, but had rationalised 'so what?' He certainly had some dirt on me, but then I had some on him, although I had no hard evidence. In the end I thought to myself that I am in the 'rats nest' of investment banking and if that's how the game is played, so be it. As Carl reared above, his so fit and muscular, black body in my arms and his hard, extended cock in his hand ready to enter me I wondered if the bank had this on CCTV. Momentarily I thought we should stop. But then, I reconciled if they were taping this they would already have plenty of other stuff so what did one more fuck on a DVD matter. So, I opened my legs further raised my knees, looked at Carl and muttered. "Fuck me Carl, please fuck me." And he did that beautifully twice in just over an hour. Scrubbed up and in my glad rags an hour or so later I waited for Mark to call me that he was approaching the hotel in his chauffeur driven Lincoln town car. He did a few moments later so I went down to the lobby as prim and proper in a 'nice little black number' looking very much the part of a head of wealth management and not the sexual procurer of business that my ultimate boss had in effect called me that afternoon. We had a nice dinner with not much to drink for we were presenting the next day at nine. That meant being in the office for seven thirty to rehearse, which in turn meant leaving uptown for Wall Street by six forty five latest. I was in bed, alone, reasonably sexually satisfied by ten. * The presentation went great. In fact, I doubt that it could have gone any better. My team did a great job and Lord Dempsy and his team including his UK accountant, lawyer and financial adviser who we had flown over first class, plus four or five US advisers were very attentive and asked all the right, positive questions. That out of the way my team of three were heading back to the UK on a red eye, but I was staying on at Lord Dempsy's request for a couple of days in case they had further questions. I had nothing to do really after the pressy was finished and my guys had set off for Kennedy. I toyed with calling the agency again and having Carl or another black stud come and 'service' me, but decided not to book anything, for some reason. I decided to spend the afternoon shopping and thought I would take in a show in the evening. I asked the concierge to book me something, knowing that I would be back at the hotel by ten thirty latest leaving me plenty of time for a change of mind on the escort although I knew I wouldn't get Carl at such short notice. About four, I was strolling up Madison looking in the boutiquey type shops when my mobile rang. It was Monica, Lord Dempsy's PA in London. She extremely politely wondered whether I might be free this evening to dine with Lord and Lady Dempsy. I said that I was and she apologised for the lateness of the invitation. "It will be very casual Missus Henrikson, more of a kitchen supper that her Ladyship will prepare" she advised. The address was on East Sixty Seventh Street between Fifth and Madison, just a short stroll from the Pierre. I always travel light and have what I fly over in cleaned or laundered upon my arrival. So I wore the slightly butch get up of a pale blue and white striped men's Ralph Lauren shirt, white denim jeans and a blue linen jacket with the sleeves rolled up. I felt good as I walked up Fifth in my mod-height heels. It was a delightful brownstone with several steps leading up to the very impressive black front door. Surprisingly Lord Dempsy opened the door and ushered me in to the huge kitchen dining room at the rear of the house and down a level from the black and white tiled hallway. "Lovely to see you again Michaela" he said shaking my hand and part encouragingly, but also a little worryingly holding it slightly longer than necessary. I was introduced to Lady Dempsy who I recalled from the research notes had been an actress. She was in her mid-twenties and was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. She was also very friendly. "Please call me Vanessa or Nessie and whatever you don't call him your Lordship, Colin is ample." Conversation with them was very easy and flowed well with Vanessa claiming to know nothing about business or money apart from knowing how to spend it she laughed adding. "So please no business at the table." We had a simple meal of lasagne and salad with crisp French bread and a nice red wine, a Barolo I think, well Colin and I did, Vanessa drank vodka, neat. I was quite surprised that she left the table a few times and wondered whether she had a bladder problem. I helped clear up the meal as she and I chatted, her speech I thought becoming a little slurred making me wonder whether she had been drinking earlier? As we finished clearing away, I was surprised when Vanessa said. "Right I have to love and leave you now Michaela." "Ok dear" Dempsy said walking across to his wife and kissing her "You two can talk business all you like" she slurred adding. "Or do what you want, bye." "She can be very trying at times" Colin said as we walked up the stairs to his wood panelled study on the first floor. "I think we all can" I replied trying to sound neutral. "It's one of the issues with having a much younger wife" he said rather wistfully. "Where's she gone?" "Just upstairs." "Ok" I thought not wanting to intrude or be rude although I thought that Vanessa was being just that. "She has her er hobby." "Hobby?" "It's pretty much public knowledge Michy, Vanessa has a habit and she has just gone off to feed it." I didn't ask any more guessing that he meant she used drugs. "I'm sorry." "Yes it's quite bad, it's H. She won't be back down here tonight" he said as we stood fairly closely together in the study. It was warm in the beautiful house and I had removed my casual jacket during dinner. "Cognac, something else or would you prefer wine?" He asked me I would usually have asked for vodka, but suddenly recalling something Warren had said about how to build bridges and develop relationships I said. "What are you having er Colin?" "LaPhroig" he said. "Mmmmm that would be perfect." "An old Scots friend told me that you should always have just a touch of water to bring out the true taste of a single malt." "Then I will be guided by him, that sounds lovely. Well by you really isn't it?" "Yes I suppose it is just as I will be guided by you and your people with my investments and how nice that will be too." "That's true" I replied then suddenly realising what he had said. "Sorry Colin" I said as he stood before where I was sitting on a dark green, leather Chesterfield as he handed me the drink. "Was that a slip of the tongue or did I hear you correctly?" "About what Michy?" He asked sitting down. "Being guided by you or how nice that will be?" "Well er um either, both I suppose" I said looking at how he was sitting in an almost identical way to how Warren had. I wondered whether he would also touch my knee. He looked at me very seriously, raised his glass and said. "Congratulations you have won the business." "Oh my God that's fantastic, thank you so much Colin." "It's richly deserved Michy and it will be a delight being guided by you." I didn't know what to say, so asked. "Does anyone else know?" "Only Warren, he phoned after the presentation, he can be very persuasive and told me that you can too." My heart started to pound. What did he mean? "I was going to meet with my guys tomorrow after we see UBS for their presentation, but with a little help from Warren I made my mind up." It was a shock to hear that they were seeing a big competitor of ours so I was relieved when he went on. "But I have cancelled that and it's all yours. "Have you known Warren long?" "He and my father were friends, our families go back a long way." "I see." "I doubt you do Michy" he said standing up and walking over to the sideboard and opening a cigar humidor. "You don't mind do you?" He asked taking a thick cigar from the box "Not at all." "Would you like one?" "Not a large one like that thank you, they are too much for me." "Really?" He asked smiling and raising his eyebrows. "I always think size doesn't matter really" he went on extending the double entendre. I couldn't help smiling and joined in with. "Well time and place Colin, time and place." his time cutting, warming and then lighting the cigar that he told me was Davidoff. "I may have a smaller one somewhere if you would like that, but the taste and strength will be much the same." "Yes, but I wouldn't be able to finish a big one." "Now Michy please" he said with a mock sternness. "And in the presence of an Earl of the Realm as well." Puffing on the cigar and picking up a cut glass ashtray he walked behind the chesterfield and placed the ashtray on a table behind the settee. "Sorry" I said also smiling. "Just joshing Michy, I don't take all this lord and lady old bollocks too seriously." The aromatic smoke from the Havana cigar filled my nostrils and that together with the dim lights and our closeness made for an intimate atmosphere; well I felt that, but had no idea whether the married Lord did as well. "Just as I don't take all this investment malarkey too seriously either." "No and why is that may I ask?" "All the banks can look after funds like mine and make similar returns. That's not why I chose your bank Michy." "No?" "No I chose it because of the relationship between my father and Warren, the old letches and you." "Why me?" I felt his fingers on my right shoulder. 'Shit it's just like with Warren, had they rehearsed?" "Because I have a relationship with Warren and I want to build one with you Michaela" he said pressing his fingers into the soft flesh just above my collarbone. "And that's why I didn't want to wait to tell you that you had the business." "I don't understand" I said softly as his fingers on his left hand touched the bare skin of my Adam's apple. He slid his fingers down a little further onto the bare skin of my upper chest. That obviously aroused me, but also instinctively I wanted to push them off. Actually being really honest I thought to myself I don't 'want' to push them off but 'felt that I should.' I didn't though and I guess that encouraged him just as my not moving my leg away from Warren presumably made him think that he could go further, as indeed he could and did. What was happening to me I wondered? In all my life and career I had never knowingly used sex to get my way and was wondering if that was what I was doing now. "You will I am sure. Think about it Michy" he went on as his fingers came up against the top button that was about mid-way between my neck and my cleavage. Banker Or Whore - Same Thing Really I should have stopped him I suppose, but how could I? I was a banker and I had just won a piece of business worth nearly two hundred million dollars, with possibly at least the same amount to come from him and even more from his friend. I was a mature separated Danish woman with an open and liberal outlook on sex. During my marriage I had with Erik's knowledge slept with other men as he had other women usually when partner sharing, which is hugely popular in my home country. So what was the big deal now and what had been the big deal when Warren fingered me and I gave him a hand job? "Any idea yet?" He asked quietly as looking down I saw that he had undone the button. "No Colin I haven't really. "Well my dear" he said quietly as he slid his fingers inside my shirt and slightly down my chest so they almost touched my La Perla bra. "Yes" I whispered, feeling aroused, surprised, expectant and once more, just as I had been with Warren confused. That was somewhat due to what Dempsy was doing to me and the words he was using about persuasion and relationships being so similar to those that had caused me to open my legs for Warren. "I didn't want you to get the wrong idea Michaela" he said kissing the top of my head as he ran his fingertips along the edge of my bra brushing the sensitive flesh as he did. "And what's that" I sighed leaning back further? "That my dear" he said softly slipping his fingertips on both hands just inside the cups. "Is that I didn't want you to think you had to sleep with me to get the business." That made me smile. "Maybe just to keep it though" I said as his hands slid fully into the cups and held my breasts. It did feel good and I guess he felt my body relax as any idea of resistance faded away. "No, no Michy not at all. This is us building our relationship." I didn't reply for a moment as I revelled in the excitement of what was happening and the pleasure I was gaining from what he was doing to my breasts. They and my quite prominent nipples always are very sensitive and tonight they felt particularly so, maybe two hundred thousand bucks worth of sensitivity I thought as I groaned when he pinched both at the same time. "Ooooo Colin" I sighed. "What about Vanessa?" I guess by saying that rather than 'no' I told him that I was up for it, but didn't want to be caught. "She'll be so spiked up by now that she'll be out of her brain. She probably couldn't even get down the stairs, but if it makes you feel more relaxed" he said taking his hands off me, walking over to the door and locking it. "How's that?" "Thank you" I said. As he turned and faced me after locking the door I saw his trousers ballooning out with his erection. That almost made me giggle for my mind went back the earlier conversation about big ones. He came and sat beside me. Putting his arm round my neck he went to kiss me. "Just a sec" I said removing my glasses and putting them on a side table. "I have wanted to hold you Michy from the first moment I saw you" he said softly just before he kissed me surprisingly tenderly and rather expertly. "Just hold" I rather flirtatiously asked breaking the kiss for a moment. "We are both grownups Michy so let things take their course shall we?" We kissed. It went on for some time with both of us sucking and licking all-round the other's lips, teeth and tongue. As much as in some ways I wished I had to, I didn't need to put on an act as I was excited by his lordship's desire for me and I was enjoying him expressing it. His hand went back to my breasts and fiddled inside my bra searching for what he wanted to find and what I wanted him to stimulate my nipples. The bra was slightly on the small side so it was well filled by my breasts. There simply wasn't room for more. "Hold on a mo" I whispered pulling my lips away from his and reaching behind me. I had to pull the shirt out from the white jeans to get to my bra clasp. As I did that he flipped the remaining buttons undone and slid it off my shoulders and down my arms. I kissed him again as, hiding his view I undid the bra, removed it, broke the kiss and sat upright so he could see me. "Oh yes Michy" he groaned leaning forward and burying his head in my breasts adding in a rather muffled tone. "They are gorgeous." I cradled his face and sighed with genuine pleasure as his mouth, lips, teeth and tongue fed themselves on my breasts and nipples. He slowly eased me back into the corner of the chesterfield. Half lying on me with his erection most obviously pressed against my hip we kissed at length as his hands wonderfully wandered all over my chest and breasts gradually moving downwards until they were enquiring at the waistband of my jeans. Although he wiggled his fingers inside it was too tight for him to go much further. He removed them and slid them down my tummy to cup my mound through the thick denim. That wasn't too good for either of us and his fingers went back upwards and found the zip. He started to pull it down, but it got caught; that's one of the problems with my weight on times, clothes don't fit properly. "Oh fuck" he groaned in his aristocratic voice. "Do something Michy, please." "Hold on" I said clambering up. I fiddled with the zip and after a short while it slid down. Looking at me he said in a strained voice. "Might as well take them off hadn't you?" Smiling I replied. "That's rather a naughty suggestion your lordship." He laughed. "Listen serf stop fucking your lordship around and get those fucking trousers off." "Yes sir I grinned pushing them down and off to stand before him in the brief patterned thong. "You look gorgeous." "Thank you kind sir" I replied doing a little curtsy. "How gorgeous sir?" "Gorgeous enough to fuck Michy so get that fucking thing off and let me fuck you." I liked his dominating, quite forceful manner. I also liked being almost totally undressed while he was clothed, I have always enjoyed that and the other way round too. I've never fathomed out just what attraction there is in being naked or near so while your partner is still dressed, but as I stood there wriggling the thong down my legs and off I had such powerful surges of arousal I could easily have started to cum. But on the other hand, there were also the issues of a lover to be seeing your body for the first time. When a woman is in her teens and twenties and even some of her thirties it's not too much of a problem, but after that it can be and especially when a woman is prone to putting on weight as I am. So although excited by being now totally naked in front of Colin I was also full of trepidation as to what he would think of my body. Vanessa is stick insect thin with the longest legs in the world. I imagined his lordship played around with other equally slim, young fillies so was used to lithe, young, taught bodies, and one of those I didn't have. What he would think of my slightly sagging tits, the excess flesh on my tummy and hips and the somewhat chunkiness of my legs I dreaded to think. Taking a deep breath and holding my tummy in I went back to the sofa and sitting down said. "This is all a little one sided Colin isn't?" "Yes Michy and purposefully so." "And why is that?" I asked wondering if the aristocracy did things differently to us mere mortals. "Because I wanted to see you without the distractions of undressing myself." "I don't follow." "Never mind, but please walk over there as I undress." Quite clearly the British aristocracy do things differently! "Walk where?" "Just by the table so I can see you playing with yourself as I get ready to fuck you" he smiled slowly undoing the buttons on his dark blue shirt. I leaned back against the table feeling relieved that I could keep breathing in. "Go on then Michy" he said as he dropped his shirt on the chesterfield. "What?" "Play with yourself, stimulate me." I felt a little foolish standing there naked watching my potential lover undress. But I was very aroused and my body was tingling with sexual expectation so I raised my hands and cupped my breasts; it felt lovely. "Mmmmm nice Michy" he said as he undid his zip and removed his trousers and socks. I pinched my nipples and ran my fingertips down my body loving the sensations of them on my waist and the slight, well I call it slight, swell of my tummy. I could hardly tear my eyes away from Colin stripping and slowly revealing what I now so badly wanted to see, feel, hold, stroke and have fuck me; his cock. His boxers round his ankles I at last saw him in his rampant glory. He looked lovely. He had a nice cock. Fairly long and nicely thick it reared ramrod straight and hard up his flat stomach. He had a good body, it was lean and looked fit with a nice covering of dark hair on his chest that I so easily visualised scratching against my hardened, erect nipples. He walked across to me and took me in his arms so that our naked bodies were touching from head to toe. We kissed and I revelled in the feeling of his length pressing into my tummy and his hairy chest rubbing on my breasts and nipples. The kiss went on and on as we both squirmed our body against the other. His hands were all over me; on my back, in my hair, down my side, on my tits and of course on my bum. They were on the cheeks squeezing them together, pressing and pinching them and pulling them apart. His fingers without enquiry or invitation went into the crease and ran along it finding and pressing on my bum hole. That made me wonder whether all the stories about the British aristocracy and their fascination for, amongst other practices, anal sex were true. A little shiver going through me I wondered whether I would find out. I didn't move my bum away from it and he pressed a little harder. "Are you totally sure about Vanessa?" I asked. "Absolutely, in any case she never comes in here and the door is always locked." "Ok" I replied kissing him back and loving his fingers sliding between my legs from behind. "Turn round" he ordered. I did. "Lean forward put your elbows on the table." I did. I felt him take hold of my hips with one hand as the tip of his cock nuzzled against my lips that were wet and slightly open. "Ready Michy?" "Yes" I grunted from my bent over position, my tits hanging down, my bum stuck out and my legs slightly open. And like that the banker was fucked by a lord for the first time. * Back in England I put in place all the arrangements for the transfer of Lord Dempsy and his family's funds and investments to one of our proxy accounts and got on with my life. I still had little social life in the UK, but as I had more time now than when in M and A I had started building one. I joined Highgate Golf Club and a tennis club in Chelsea and started accepting invitations to both playing with members and attending their social events. I had no idea just how difficult it is for a single woman in her forties to meet people at such clubs, other than that is guys 'whose wives didn't understand them;' they were two a penny. At social things and even around the courts and golf course I could see the 'claws' of wives coming out when they saw me. Luckily I was able to get 'home' to Copenhagen about every other weekend where I could have sex with my husband and a couple of 'old flames' who had come to light since our separation, of course not at the same time! I exchanged numerous emails and phone calls with Dempsy's team as we set everything up. Out of the blue I got a call from Monica Horrocks. We had chatted a few times since she had issued the invitation to the brownstone a few weeks ago and I was warming to her despite the awfully posh accent that sounded to me somewhat like the Queen's. I warmed to her even more when she told me that the point of the call was to invite me to a weekend at Highgrieve, Dempsy's ancestral stately home. Just what the fuck do you take with you for a weekend in the country with members of the British aristocracy? I had no idea as I had never been on such a weekend. Would we go shooting? I had seen that they did that sort of thing in such TV series as Downton Abbey, but then that was set years ago. Were they still like that I wondered? I had read of the British royal family having a love of shooting. Would we 'dress' for dinner on the Friday and Saturday evenings? If so just how dressy would it be? Long dresses, cocktail outfits or what? Colin and Vanessa weren't stuffy, well not in New York they hadn't been, but at his family seat, who knows? Being Danish and quite senior in the investment banking industry I had met members of the royal and near royal families and the hanging on aristocracy. But until recently that had been the Danish royal family in Denmark not members of the British aristocracy. On the Monday before my weekend in Gloucestershire with Lord Dempsy I received an email from Monica. It explained that I should arrive late afternoon on the Friday and with the bluntness that only someone as upscale as a lord could get away with leave after a buffet lunch on the Sunday. It laid out an itinerary that fortunately did not include shooting. It informed me that there would be an informal dinner on the Friday with some of the neighbours, that there would be a visit to Cheltenham races on the Saturday where his Lordship had two runners and a dinner that evening with some close friends. It stressed that all the activities were very informal and gave details of preferred dress code. That made me feel relieved and I was impressed with the thoughtfulness. Packing probably more than I could possibly need I crammed the Porsche full of bags and dress carriers and headed out past Knightsbridge to the M4 looking forward to bombing down the motorway. I had been told that going right down to the M5 then up that was the quickest way, but I chose the more scenic route of turning off at Swindon and driving through the winding lanes; after all I didn't get to drive the Carrera that often. Driving the hundred or so miles to Gloucestershire I had plenty of time to think and as well wonder. Think about what had happened last time I had met his Lordship and wonder what might happen this time. They were both delicious thoughts. The satnav worked perfectly and I arrived at the very impressive historical pile set in a couple of hundred acres of rolling woodlands a respectable fifteen minutes late. A young guy in a striped waistcoat and black trousers met me and carried my luggage, well most of it up to my room that was at the end of a long corridor on the first floor; the house really was massive. He informed me that tea was being served in the second drawing room that he explained was to the right inside the front door. "Will I be ok like this?" I asked tentatively. He looked me up and down seeing my jeans and white shirt and a dark blue blazer. His eyes seeming to sparkle a little as they lingered on my boobs he replied with a small smile. "Yes Missus Henrikson you will be perfect just like that." He was quite an attractive young guy and I momentarily wondered, but quickly put such naughty thoughts out of my mind. "How lovely to meet you again Missus Henrikson" Lord Dempsy said as I wandered into the second drawing room. "And you your Lordship" I said almost curtsying. "Colin please off duty" he said smiling. "Sure, thanks and please Michaela or if you prefer Michy" I said realising that we were still holding hands. "Michy, yes that's nice Michy, I think I may well call you that." He introduced me to three couples who were neighbours and his mother a striking looking woman probably in her late seventies. "And this Michy is my second cousin and for some fucking ridiculous reason my best friend, the Right Honourable, although don't be fooled by titles, Andrew Grosvenor." I shook hands with the handsome man who I put in his early forties. So, I thought, his introduction was to the Duke of Westminster's family. "And before you ask Missus H" Colin said. "Yes he is part of the Westminster mafia and that is most certainly where you should cast your net rather than at such impoverished paupers as us Cardigans." There was no sign of Lord Dempsy's wife or of Andrew Grosvenor's who I knew from the details the bank held on all prospects was married for the third time. I was soon chatting away to the neighbours and to the dowager Lady Cardigan who was absolutely charming. At just after six Lady Cardigan announced that she was going up and the neighbours left saying they would see us all at dinner. "Make it early" Dempsy called out. "We have an early start tomorrow." I had managed to learn from one of the wives that the dress code was more smart casual than anything and that she would be wearing a fairly simple dress. We had a nice evening with Vanessa again excusing herself quite early. Dempsy was very attentive and the Lady Dowager was fascinating company telling us about her times with the 'Chelsea set' particularly the Queen's sister Margaret alas now dead and her 'flings with Roddy Llewelyn who was eighteen years her junior and a series of other beaus. The neighbours cried off early as they too had a horse running in a steeplechase the next day and they were meeting the trainer for breakfast. The Lady Dowager 'went up' early leaving just Lord Dempsy and me. "Your room or mine Michy?" He smiled as we walked up the grand staircase. * I had been to the Gold Cup several times as well as to Ascot, the Derby and the Grand National so I was used to the etiquette of racing. But I had never been by helicopter before. This time I did. Andrew had arrived at Highgrieve in his eight person Cessna and he flew Dempsy, Vanessa, two couples who were neighbours, him and me to the racecourse. He landed right in the middle of the course where two Rangerovers collected us and delivered us to Lord Dempsy's box in the main stand. We had a nice time although the incessant rain meant we had to use big golf umbrellas when we left the box to go to the paddock. As Grosvenor and I were the singles we naturally on occasions became a couple including sharing an umbrella a few times. This brought us very close together for he slipped my arm through his as he held the umbrella. That caused our bodies to touch at the hips and his arm to brush, unintentionally I am sure, against the side of my boob. Neither Dempsey's or the neighbour's horses came anywhere and the only one who made money on the day was Andrew causing Vanessa to say in a rather slurring tone. "Fucking typical isn't it, money to fucking money all the time." "Ok dear" Dempsy said taking her arm. "We're going home now." Then turning to all of us as her ladyship slumped into a chair he went on. "I guess the order is a hot bath or shower when we get home and early dinner?" Dempsy said as the last race finished. We all agreed and that was what we did. "Really casual dinner" Dempsy said as Grosvenor, Vanessa and I went to get changed. One of the staff had driven the neighbours home and was due to collect them an hour or so later. I had a nice long bath and washed and dried my hair. Sitting naked doing my makeup I wondered if Dempsy would want me tonight or whether Vanessa was up to giving him what he had told me was his daily need, 'a fuck or at least a wank.' That made me feel rather nervous for Vanessa would be around somewhere. Although he had told me that she was on dope and I had now seen signs of it I again wondered whether the sort of goings on of having sex with an adviser whilst your wife was in the house was a habit of the upper classes of Britain. * Although I had only had sex the once, last night with Dempsy since my return from New York we had emailed and phoned each other a few times including us linking up on cams and having phone sex once.