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Alone for the Fist Time- It's my first winter break home from college since you and my dad got married. His time off doesn't start till next week, so it's just the two of us home. You and I don't really know each other that well, we've only met a handful of times, so we've mostly been keeping to our selves. Maybe you've caught me staring a few times. Maybe I've caught you back. But mostly it's just smiles and awkward good mornings as we quietly eat our cereal and drink our coffee in peace. A couple days in, I'm looking for a book I want to lend to a friend and go to ask you where it could be. I shouldn't be this comfortable, but I grew up in this house, so I walk right in to your room without knocking or thinking. "Oh shit!" I yell before slamming the door shut. "I'm so fucking sorry." My face is bright red as I profusely apologize from the other side of the door. I run to my room my voice stuck in my throat, the image of your beautiful, naked body etched into my brain. I lay facedown on my bed, mortified, embarrassed, curious, aroused. I can't stop thinking. I can't stop wondering. I need to clear my mind. I walk down the hall, peaking to make sure your door is closed before I go to the bathroom. I turn the walk-in shower on, letting the steam fill the room before getting under the hot water. I let out a sigh, hoping the rushing stream will wash these thoughts away. The door to the bathroom opens. I can see your silhouette through the steamed glass. I breath catches in my throat as the hot water tingles against my skin. Oh god.

A Hard Deal to Refuse- I park my car out front, and sat in the drivers seat for a second as I admire the estate. I'm still getting used to being around all this money. I let out a sigh and grab the bottle of wine on the passenger seat. I don't want to be here. I have better offers, and more exciting invitations, but my COO encouraged me, told me that it would be worth my time. It better be. I walk up the steps to the large double doors. They open before I can knock. There he is. He looks older than I expected. Not old, just older. He shakes my hand, invites me in, thanks me for the wine. Dinner's this way, but first, he wants me to meet his wife. My heart seizes in my chest when you walk in. You are stunning. Much more attractive than your husband in a sleek dress with a high slit on the leg. It's hard to focus on much else once you walk in. Your husband doesn't like doing business on an empty stomach, so we eat first. You sit next to me, and he serves the wine I brought, It's ok. Not nearly as exciting as you. At one point, you drop your napkin in my lap, and I could swear your hand lingered... But no. time for business. You say you'll meet us in the study in a minute. You want to freshen up. I'm sad to see you go, but can't help but sneak a peak as you walk away. I'm so distracted I don't notice your husband's smile. In the study, we chat some, then your husband offers me some whisky. It's better than the wine. I take a sip, and he finally gets down to the reason we're here. "I know you have better offers than my original proposal." he says. "That's why I'd like to offer a little more. Make ours more competitive." The door opens. "But money is only part of the equation. Someone will always be able to offer more money. It will be never ending. A night mare." You walk in, my mouth goes dry. You're no longer in the dress, now wearing an equally elegant, strappy lingerie body suit. What is happening. "I'm not one for nightmares." he says, you stand in front of my chair, your hand on my knee, tracing up toward my knee as you get down on your knees. "I much prefer to make the good dreams come true." Your fingers are feather light, a tease, grazing, just enough to send a shiver up my spine as you reach for my belt buckle. How can I say no?

Show Me the Order of Upper Class- The smoke dances from her cigarette and fills the room with an almost dreamy haze as she sits casually on the couch that probably cost more than my apartment. I sit in the chair across from her, spinning my glass of whiskey. I knew she was rich but- this is something else. I try not to focus on the deep plunge of her elegant gown. The silent auction we just returned from was a black tie affair. I wonder if the smoke will prevent me from getting the deposit back on this rental tux. We've only seen each other a handful of times, and I suddenly find myself embarrassed that I brought her to my apartment. I thought it had been a good night. Now I was worried she was judging my couch that night we fucked on it. She looks at me now with a new kind of intensity. Something I hadn't noticed during the small talk and banter as we rubbed elbows with the 1%. I take a drink. Finally, she breaks the silence. "I like you." she says, exhaling more smoke as she stands up, her heels clacking on the floor as she casually moves around the room. "I like you a lot. But before we keep going, I have a confession." I swallow. Here it is. The reason we can't be together. "I have a... collection, of sorts." she moves behind me as she talks. "Some people collect pottery, some collect stamps," her hand grazes over my shoulder. "I collect sluts." She says it casually, like the term has no connotation. "All over the world. In every major city, by every worth-wile resort, on private jets and boating crews... little desperate sluts, eagerly waiting for my command." Another puff of smoke. Another sip of whiskey. "They are my prized possessions. If we're going to be together, I'd like you to share them will me." She stands behind me. "Before you make any decisions," she gets low, her red lips grazing my ears sending chills down my spine, "I have one to show you." She rings a service bell on the table beside me. The doors to the room open. A beautiful woman in straps and chains wearing a black leather collar walks in with her arms behind her back. She licks her lips. I lick mine. Maybe there are perks to dating a richer woman. (You could play my date, her slut or both, up to you)