I check my face in my compact mirror one last time and get out of the car. I get a few looks from the people on the street—a door to a limo usually has the driver opening it, but no way I’m going to waste Walter’s time doing that right now. He absolutely has places to be and he needs to go focus on that. Besides, I’m a big girl. I’ve been a big girl for a while now.

I tug the sash around my trench coat and hold my head up. This is going to be easy. This is going to be fun.

My heels click and clack on the shiny marble floor as I walk into the global headquarters of Carter Jeffries—the storied investment bank. It’s located in midtown Manhattan, on 52^nd and Park Avenue. I head straight to the security desk and look the overworked schmo in the eye.

“Brittney Roman to see Carl Ketchum,” I tell the security guard. I don’t pay any attention to the guy. I need to let him think that I think I’m too good for him. That I’m too busy looking at my phone, looking at my nails, doing anything.

I know how to pull it off. I’ve had to pull myself out of worse before. Hell, there’s not a day that doesn’t go by where I don’t look back at my life and wonder how I ended up here, owning my own company that's worth millions of dollars at the age of 27.

When just four years ago I was in Los Angeles and seriously wondering if I was going to be alive the next day. If it was better off to just die.

But no, I’m sorry hun; I need to focus. I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?

Right now, I need to smile perfunctorily at the guard as he scans my face and asks for my ID. I need to look to the side so he can stare at my profile in what he thinks is a sneaky manner.

I need to loosen my trench coat just a little bit to give him a peek down into my tits. That always works for men. Not much trouble getting them to say fuck it with protocol and let me in if I show some boob. He doesn’t care if I’m not on the list. I’ve smiled and flirted and I even touched his hand an extra second longer when I gave him my ID. But then I went back to ignoring him.

I’m sure subconsciously he’s thinking if he makes this fast for me he's going to have some kind of shot when I come downstairs. Maybe I’ll go back with him to his studio apartment in the Bronx and suck his dick.

Too bad I don’t leave Manhattan. Or suck loser dick.

And that’s just what he is. A fucking loser. Because two seconds later he does everything I told you he would. He hands me a temporary pass. “45^th floor, Miss Roman,” he says to me and I nod sweetly. Let’s keep the hope alive. Without hope, we’re all dead anyways, right hun?

Oh, yeah, okay, fine. I’ll even shake my ass a bit side to side as I walk to the security turnstiles. Keep his stare for a bit longer.

The elevator ride takes seriously just under a minute. That’s because the elevator I get into serves only the first floor, and floors 40 to 50. I guess those investment and private equity bankers can’t wait, huh? They have to get to work at their desks screwing over the country as fast as they can.

I walk out of the elevators and enter the lobby of the 45^th floor. This is the Private Client floor for Carter Jeffries—one department among dozens that operates as a company within a company.

The receptionist looks at me and smiles.

“Hi Brittney,” she says sweetly.

Bitch better be nice to me. She thinks I’m already fucking the big boss.

But no, not yet.

I smile back. “Is he in?” I ask.

She nods. “I think he’s on a conference call,” she says to me.

I shrug and keep walking toward Carl’s door. The fact that he’s busy doesn't stop me. That’s never going to stop me.

I know you’re probably rolling your eyes at me, hun. I don’t blame you. I’m not behaving like a good little girl. Good girls don’t act and say the things I’m doing and saying. But that’s because I’m not a normal girl.

What am I?

Oh, you're in for a treat.

Because I’m a bad girl.

I don’t mean like the bad boys you’re reading about on your Kindle. I’m not filled up with tribal tattoos. I don’t turn into a dragon. I’m not part of some underground MMA club. I don’t play football on the field, and fuck off the field. I’m not your Domme.

No, I’m much, much worse.

I’m a girl who knows exactly what men want. I can make them give it to me. And then keep giving it to me. I use ‘em and lose ‘em. I don’t get tied down.

I fuck. Yeah, so what? That’s about as far as their bodies go. Then I move on.

Women want to be me. Men want me. And I play it all to my benefit.

Don’t believe me?

Watch and see.

I open the door and walk in. Carl is on the phone but he looks up with a start. He sees me, and his eyes show a momentary flash of annoyance.

He’s the head of the Private Client group. Each day, his group on this floor does billions of dollars worth of business. He’s personally worth about $250 million dollars.

This is a man that is as alpha as you can find. He works out. Has a nice cock. Commands the respect of men under him. He got to his position by being dominant and taking charge.

Yeah, that means nothing to me. The fact that he’s upset means nothing to me.

Because the moment I close the door and undo the sash on my trench coat and stand in front of him with a smirk, his look of annoyance turns into desire.

“Guys, I’m going to have to jump off this call today,” he says into his headset. “Sorry. Carry on and I’ll look through the notes tonight.”

I stand there in front of him, letting him admire me. I wasn’t wearing anything under that trench coat but a skimpy little thong and an itty bitty bra. It’s pink and lace. From La Perla. Only the best for this princess.

“Lauren, hold all my calls and meetings,” Carl says into the intercom and doesn’t wait for a response, but brings his eyes back to looking at me. I’m running my fingers over my boobs, licking my lips and taking a few steps over toward him.

“I went shopping today,” I tell him.

“Uh huh,” he says, not paying attention.

“Thought you might like to see what I bought,” I tell him as I turn around and bend over slightly, bringing my hand to my ass and rubbing my left ass cheek. “Do you like it?”

Carl nods. “Oh yeah, baby, I like it a lot.”

“Good,” I say turning back and walking around his desk to stand in front of him. My back is to the window and he’s facing me. “Because today is your lucky day, Mister.”

Carl should have more questions. He should be asking me why, today of all days, I’m getting on my knees and unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers.

He should ask why it takes me only five seconds to fish out his cock and wrap my lips around it when all this time I’ve told him I’m a virgin.

That’s right. I’ve been telling him I’m a virgin. Saving myself for him.

Me. Can you believe it? Brittney White—the one time Princes of Porn. The toast of the San Fernando Valley. Courted by Wicked Pictures, Vivid Video, Naughty America, Brazzers, you name it. Who had to leave that business behind when…well, never mind.

Yeah, all I had to do was flash Carl some titties, let him feel my ass and he believes now that all virgins are as expert as sucking cock as I am right now.

This is why men are just so stupid. They can’t think when their cocks get hard. This is why I’m single. Because no man can tame me.

“Oh God, baby, that feels so good,” Carl moans, running his hands through my hair.

He’s got about 7 inches. Not bad. But not great either. Still, I’m not really looking to get off for the next part.

With a slurp and final suck, I take my mouth off his cock and use my hands to jerk him once or twice. He’s hard. He’s ready.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask, as I make my eyes smolder and get up, pulling down my thong and using one hand to rub my clit and the folds of my pussy, getting ready to take him.

He nods at me dumbly.

Idiot.

I swear to God.

I give him a sweet smile and climb onto his lap, positioning myself over him. I feel his tip against me, and I kiss him on the neck. I’m wearing lipstick and I’m trying to leave a mark on his neck. By the time I’m done, I’ll get some on his shirt collar too. Plus I'm wearing lots of perfume. His clothes will smell of me for sure.

I unzip a condom and unwrap it on Carl with all the skill that virgin girls should not possess. But Carl doesn’t notice.

Gritting my teeth I bring myself down and feel Carl enter me. He groans loudly.

Stupid.

His secretary is right outside. Does he think she doesn't know what we’re doing? He’s so fucking disrespectful to her.

“Slow down, baby, or else you’ll make me cum soon,” he grunts. I speed up my thrusts, shucking myself on his pole.

I don’t know why I’m mad at him. I mean, I knew he wasn’t going to say no to me.

But maybe…I don't know. Maybe I hoped at the last minute he’d have a change of heart. That I’d be able to go back to his wife and tell her that her husband really isn’t a cheater, and that she hired me but I can’t get her the results she needed, and as per the policies of my company, Man Chasers LLC, here is a full refund.

Or maybe I hoped that at least he’d have the presence of mind when faced with free pussy to think, even. I mean, it’s bad enough you’re going to cheat, but your office window is open and there are no fucking blinds. What would happen if someone were in the other building on a floor that's facing Carl’s office? What if they were looking through the glass, filming Carl and I? Filming as Carl grunted and bucked his hips as I began timing my thrusts faster and faster, kissing his neck in the process and using my hands to unbutton his shirt and rub his nipples?

It’s not a hypothetical question, babe, because that’s what Walter is doing right now. From his position that we scouted out a few days ago, he’s got a high definition camera trained on us. He’s filming us in crystal clear perfect video. The transceiver in my purse is on, and it’s giving him perfect audio.

“Oh, fuck, baby, you like that?” I ask, and I can feel Carl’s nuts tighten. He has no fucking stamina at all.

In another three thrusts he groans and throws his head back and I can feel his cock spasm inside of me, as the condom gets warm.

I milk him with my pussy for another half a minute. Let him get some pleasure out of it. When I deliver this recording to his wife, it’s going to be all she needs to get out of the loveless marriage that she’s trapped in. She’s going to sue him for everything he has. He’ll probably go from Mr. Senior Managing Director in a Park Avenue condo to living in Bed-Stuy in a basement apartment. Most likely not so much sex happening then.

Oh well. He’s a guy. I don’t really have that many fucks to give.

***

“Make sure that Mrs. Ketchum is made aware where to transfer the money to, Walter,” I tell my trusty sidekick over the phone as I leave the offices of Carter Jeffries. Once the sex was complete, it’s all I could do to get the fuck out of Carl’s office as soon as possible. Walter had what he needed, and I needed to get paid.

“We have a new commission too, if you’re interested,” Walter tells me in his off-English accent. He’s been with me since I left Los Angeles. He’s loyal and I trust him with my life. Think Alfred from Batman. He’s my Alfred.

“Fine, let’s vet them like normal,” I reply, wondering why Walter would bring up a commission without vetting them. He’s usually thorough.

“I tried, but the man was insistent,” Walter says over the phone. “Said he was going to talk to you now. He told me he’d pick you up outside the Carter Jeffries building.”

What the fuck?

How does someone know where I am?

A guy? It couldn't be….no.

I’ll tell you about him later, hun, but I don’t think he would call Walter.

That’s when another limo pulls up. It squeals to a stop on 52^nd Street, right next to where I’m standing on the sidewalk.

I’m a bit startled. A bit wary.

Is this the same guy who called Walter?

The door to the limo opens and I can’t see inside.

“Get in,” the voice says to me. That’s it. Just that command. “It’ll be worth your while.”

I sigh. But I’m not worried.

Men. If I can handle one, I can handle them all.

I get in and close the door as the limo speeds away.

Let’s see what kind of fun we get into today, shall we dear?