Copyright © 2017 by Eva Luxe; All Rights Reserved.
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There was a light blanket of snow falling as my personal jet was about to take off for my business trip. The sky looked bleak and gray, and the forecasts were predicting more snow. I began to wonder whether my pilot, James, might call off the flight due to safety concerns.

 

But then I heard him say, “Are we all set for takeoff?”, right before I saw his head poke out around the open door of the cockpit. I nodded my head at him, and, shifting his gaze from the air traffic controllers frantically running after an escaped luggage cart, he smiled back at me, probably to reassure me that everything was okay, because he knew me so fucking well by now.

I, Kurt Roberts, was a modern-day mogul, and therefore I was used to jet setting around the world. But that didn’t mean my stomach didn’t still churn a little bit with nervousness each time the plane took off, especially when the weather looked questionable, like today. I couldn’t help but worry that the plane would crash and that I would meet my unfortunate demise.

 

A man like me was used to getting everything I could possibly want, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a healthy fear of my own mortality, the perpetual extension of which was one thing money still couldn’t buy. At times like these, though, I just told myself to grin and bear it, like any other billionaire would, instead of letting my humble roots get the best of me.

 

Mine was a true rags to riches story with a twist. At age 43, I had the distinction of being one of the world’s wealthiest men. My corporation was worth billions, with my net worth increasing by the minute. I had access to the finest things that life had to offer and by all outside perceptions, I appeared to have it all.

 

And I had, at first: a loving wife, a doting daughter, a wildly successful business that I started myself when I was just a teenager, and every creature comfort imaginable. Our family portrait had graced the cover of every prestigious magazine in the country.

 

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t. I remember vividly that day when everything fell apart. I had been unusually stressed and needed a break, so I decided to book a week-long cruise for my ex-wife and I to relax. After having my assistant work out the details, I bought a bouquet of roses and chocolates and headed home to surprise my ex-wife and start packing for our romantic getaway.  

 

When I got home, I was met with a surprise of my own. Finding the walkway from the front door lit with candles and soft jazz music lilting through the air, I had excitedly begun undressing, making my way to the bedroom. It had been so long since my ex-wife and I had done anything romantic or spontaneous and I had begun to worry that our marriage was dying. 

 

But, I loved my wife and was committed to making a wonderful and loving home for her and our daughter, despite whatever distance might have been coming between us. It was one of the reasons for my romantic gestures and trip plans— I had started to worry that I had been neglecting her due to working too much, and wanted to make up for it.

 

There was no way that I could have anticipated opening the door to our bedroom only to be greeted by the chiseled, clenched glutes of our personal trainer, Steven, as he gutted my screaming wife, while her high heeled feet were dangling over his ripped, muscular shoulders. 

 

Even now, although I told myself I was fucking over it, I found my fists clinched reactively at the memory. Or maybe they were clinched at my fear of this airplane taking off in this weather and then crashing.

 

The chirping ring of my cell phone broke me from my thoughts and back to reality.

 

“All phones must be turned off!” James called from the cockpit, as if he didn’t have to tell me this every time we took off.

 

“Sorry, James.  Just let me take this last call and we can be on our way,” I told him.

 

Seeing “Crestwood Academy” pop up on the screen had made my heart sink a little. I had a nagging feeling that this will not be a good call.

 

“Hello, this is Kurt Roberts.”

 

“Mr. Roberts. Yes. Hi,” came a hurried, shrill voice on the other end. “This is Principal Marion from Crestwood Academy. I’m so glad that I could catch you. Your secretary said that you might have been gone already. It’s about Olivia.”

 

“Oh, my God! Is she okay?” I flew into a mild panic.

 

A dejected sigh responded to me on the other end.

 

“Oh, she’s perfectly fine.  Probably extremely pleased with herself at the moment, by the look of her. Your daughter called her teacher the ‘c’ word. Again, Mr. Roberts. And when told to take a time out, she let out a slew of other vulgar words that I dare not repeat in this or any other company, frankly. She has the look of a saint with the mouth of the Devil. Now, I’m not sure what type of language you or your wife use at home…”  

 

Her voice trailed off, as if she was waiting on me for an answer. But, after not getting one, she continued. “But, you have to understand our position here. If nothing changes very soon, we will have no choice but to dismiss Olivia from our academy. Since Christmas break is starting, we will see if things improve next semester. Otherwise, we’re at our wits’ end. I am so very sorry.”

 

I hung up my phone, turned it off, and tossed it into the empty seat next to me. There was nothing that I could do from thousands of feet in the air and just as many miles away, anyway. I’d have to let Ravka, my nanny, deal with it until I get back. Hopefully, I’d have a plan by then for how to approach things with the academy. At least, as the teacher pointed out, winter break was starting, so things couldn’t get any worse there during my absence.

 

Mainly, though, I was worried about poor Olivia and why she was acting out like this. She’d always been a sweet but somewhat sullen girl, a bit overly sensitive, but not some spoiled, cursing brat, so I was sure the divorce was having its effect on her.

 

Anyone on the outside looking in would think that with all my entrepreneurial prowess, with hundreds of employees at my beck and call, handling a 7-year-old would be a cake walk. But, the truth was that the lifestyle I’d been able to afford my family was made possible by my business, one that I worked tirelessly to build from the ground up and that kept me away from home more than I might care to admit.

 

I couldn’t help but think that maybe my ex-wife would have stayed faithful to me if I hadn’t had been so focused on work. But, maybe not. She was probably just an awful person who still would have decided that she “didn’t want to be tied down,” as she said, by a husband and a child. She probably would have still run off to Vegas to live out her lifelong fantasy of being a stripper and living with a struggling pool boy. 

 

I forced myself to quickly dismiss the thought that I could have avoided my current reality—one where my wife had run off, leaving me alone to raise a small child while fighting to maintain my place as one of the top business leaders of the world. I didn’t want her anyway— any woman who cheats on me is gone to me, anyhow, and I wanted to keep her just as far out of my mind as she was out of my life.

 

At least I had my prominent position, my money, and most importantly, my beautiful daughter in my life. It’s not as if I was left completely without any recourses after losing the love of my life and the mother that my child so desperately needed.

 

I knew that Olivia was only acting out in anger because she missed her mother. She cried for months after her mother left. That very night, Olivia begged her mother not to leave. She promised to be good and even offered to give up her iPad and other electronic devices if it would mean keeping her mother home with her. Her mother ignored her pleas, silently whisking around the house as if her daughter wasn’t there, grabbing whatever her feeble arms could carry, rushing off to her new life.

 

I had tried to take Olivia’s, then 5-year-old, mind off the horrible event by taking her to Disney World, but not even Mickey Mouse in all his whimsical glory could cheer up my heartbroken child. It was almost like the day that she entered school, she became set on making everyone as miserable as she felt inside. 

 

Her first school, Madison Christian Academy, kicked her out only after a week because she cut off a small piece of another girl’s hair with a pair of scissors. She claimed she thought they were playing hairdresser, but the teacher thought it was malicious. And I can’t say I’m even sure who I believe because Olivia was going through an understandably dark time. Olivia needed a mother and I needed a loyal woman by my side to help run my kingdom, but neither of us have gotten what we deserve out of life.

 

For Olivia, I wasn’t sure what the cure was— nothing could replace a child’s mother and that’s something I struggled with daily. But as for my own personal situation, I’d decided to make lemonade out of lemons and settle for random hookups with sexy women whenever I pleased. 

 

I’d had them in my board room, their long legs spread wide on the conference table. I’d had them in swanky hotel rooms, as they’d happily lapped up the cum I’d shot into their mouths. I couldn’t help but smile as I glanced at the small bathroom next to the cockpit, remembering a few times I’d had a girl pressed uncomfortably against the wall there while I’d given them every last inch of myself. All ten inches of it, to be precise.

 

But, then, that was it. If I’d ever spoke to them again, it had been to let them know where I’d sent a missing earring or a forgotten sweater. It was never a call to repeat our hook up, no matter how hot and steamy it was. I got bored easily and I was convinced that all women only wanted me for my money and could never be faithful. My hefty monthly alimony payment to a woman who never bothered to see me, or our daughter, was evidence of that.

 

But, I refused to let it make me bitter. All I could do was learn from my mistakes, which I have been doing. Soon after the plane took off, I leaned back trying to will myself to think happier thoughts.

 

“Your whiskey, sir,” came a sweet voice hovering over my shoulder, as if its owner could read my mind and knew exactly what I needed at just that moment.

 

Looking up, my eyes fell on the pretty, new flight attendant that my assistant had found. Dressed in a navy blazer and white shirt that hugged her coke bottle frame perfectly, she reached over to hand me my usual drink.

 

“Thank you,” I said, unable to help myself from smiling despite the phone call I’d just received and the dismal mood I was in.

 

I also couldn’t help but look at her seductive body: from her almond shaped eyes, to her perky chest, to her shapely hips, to her supple, smooth legs. She licked her moistened lips in a way that made my imagination run wild. 

 

I imagined taking her to a fine restaurant, wooing her over dinner, slipping my fingers into her wet fold discreetly at the dinner table, and then taking her for a ride in my limo, where I’d pound her pussy until it was raw.

 

My dick stood at full attention just thinking about it.

 

“You’re welcome,” Dana replied innocently. Except, her tone belied her supposed innocence.

 

She sauntered away, giving me one last look— for now— at her luscious rear end.

 

My mind began to drift off as I imagined all the different positions that I could have her in. I’d like to bend her over the chair in front of me and stretch her pussy open wide before entering her. I’d like her to sit on my lap like a stripper giving me a dance while bouncing up and down on my cock. The possibilities were endless, and I was wanting to do whatever it took to get with this girl.

 

But, I was quickly snapped back to reality when the plane began jolting from a pocket of turbulence. My white-knuckled grip on the arms of my chair grew stronger with each jarring shake.

 

“No need to worry,” came James’ soothing voice over the intercom. “We’re just experiencing a little turbulence. This snow picked up a lot more quickly than expected. It appears we might be entering a blizzard.”

 

“A blizzard?” I asked, letting my mouth fall open.

 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, but his tight grip on the plane’s controls said otherwise.

 

Great.

 

Here I was thinking my only problems were a daughter getting kicked out of another school, and a hot flight attendant I’d have to use every ounce of willpower to keep my hands off. Now, it looked as if I had much bigger matters to be concerned about now— such as whether I’d even survive this flight.