Chapter Three
Ethan
“Mr. Garrison,” my financial advisor, Reginald, said slowly, “you are worth just over five and a half billion dollars. Based on your growth over the past six months, I would count on a healthy estimation that you will clear six billion by the first quarter of next year.”
I ran my hand through my hair and tried to digest what the white-haired, frail man in front of me was saying. Over five billion dollars to my name. How had that happened?
“I can’t believe it,” I said.
Reginald nodded with a wistful smile and used his index finger to push his silver-framed glasses farther up his very large nose. “It is a lot of money, sir. I know we have discussed the following quite thoroughly, but I feel compelled to bring it up again. It is crucial that you find yourself a successor, Mr. Garrison. This kind of money needs to be passed down. You need to protect you and your family.”
“I understand,” I said, already feeling bitter at the subject matter, “but I’m not ready to settle down yet. I’m twenty-nine. There’s time for such things later.”
“Time is relative,” Reginald said. “You don’t know how much of it you have left. If you aren’t willing to appoint the business to your sister or other relative, you must take the initiative to make other arrangements.”
“Other arrangements?” I asked skeptically.
“Indeed.” Reginald nodded, closing his book in front of him and leaning back in the chair across from me. He pressed all of his fingertips together and stared at me over top of them. “Twenty-nine is plenty old enough to consider an heir, Mr. Garrison.”
“An heir?” I nearly scoffed. “What is this, the eighteen hundreds?”
“Hardly,” Reginald said. “It is preparedness. It is wisdom. If there is no one you’re willing to hand everything to, perhaps you need to start from scratch. A child is a wonderful thing. And I must say, as your friend, Ethan, you could do with something in your life that isn’t work. I think it would be good for you.”
Reginald had been working for me for nearly seven years. We met frequently to make sure all my finances were in order, despite me always knowing they were because I had a knack for numbers and math and was a little bit of a control freak, and conversation often drifted into the more personal aspects of life. I respected him, and his opinion held weight with me.
“You’re suggesting I have a child?” I clarified.
Reginald fished around in his jacket pocket and withdrew a black business card. He handed it to me. It was plain and simple with a thin gold border. The company name was printed in elegant letters and was raised from the cardstock, One Billion Fantasies. I arched an eyebrow and peered at Reginald. “Sounds … classy.”
“It’s practical for someone like you, believe it or not,” Reginald said. “I’ve referred clients to them before and have only heard good things. They specialize in fitting the needs of billionaires. Anything from escorts to dates, anything one might require. I do not know if they have a surrogacy program, but give them a call. If they can’t help you out, they’ll at least be able to point you in the right direction. You’ve put this off for far too long, Mr. Garrison. You must take action.”
Reginald stood, and I followed, reaching across my desk to shake his hand. He let himself out of my home office, and I buzzed the front door to let him out. I lived in a penthouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I had a dazzling view of the city out of my floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded nearly every room. It was a place of luxury, and I liked it that way.
I sat staring at the business card for a full fifteen minutes before I called the number. A woman answered. She had a nasal voice and a slight English accent. “Thank you for calling One Billion Fantasies. This is Brooke.”
“Hi, Brooke,” I said, unsure of how I should phrase what I was calling for. “I’m not sure if you can help me or not. I suspect what I’m calling about might not be your company’s area of expertise.”
“Not to worry, sir. What is it you are in need of?”
“I was wondering if you had a surrogacy program.”
“Oh,” Brooke said cheerily, “not to worry at all, sir. We will put our feelers out there for you. I’m sure we can find something. Let me pencil you in for an appointment. Are you free on Wednesday morning at eight?”
“Uh, yes,” I said, a little surprised she had handled my request so quickly.
“Wonderful,” Brooke said. “I have you scheduled for eight. Do you have our address?”
“Yes, it’s on the card.”
“Perfect. What was your name, sir?”
“Ethan Garrison.”
“We will see you on Wednesday, Mr. Garrison. Have a fabulous evening.”
Brooke hung up the phone. I sat, stone-still, my mind rolling around the idea of fathering a child without a mother around. I had the money to make sure the child grew up happy, that was for certain, and I had always wanted to be a father when the time was right. Maybe the time was now. With my business, the odds of me ever settling down and marrying were slim. It was a sacrifice I had willingly made. This could potentially give me that family life I had been craving while also providing the opportunity to protect my business and my wealth and keep it in the family.
But the prospect of a child was daunting. It was unnerving. It was stressful.
I leaned back in my chair. The legs creaked. I stared up the ceiling and tried to think of something else.
It was impossible. I needed to relax. I needed something that would vanquish the tight little knot of nerves that had formed in my gut.
I wanted a girl, one like the blond bartender from the other night. She had been a fun way to de-stress, and she had seemed to enjoy it as much as I had. I thought of her pink pussy and her heavy eyes as she had watched my cock slide in and out of her.
But if I wanted to bang, I had to go out and find someone. I wasn’t feeling up to it. Tinder was always an option but not an appealing one tonight. I wanted to get off fast.
Fuck it.
I opened an incognito tab on my web browser and, within a few clicks, arrived at my favorite porn site. I scrolled through the first couple rows, searching for something that caught my eye, and paused at an image of a curvy brunette girl with her legs spread apart. She had a dildo in her hairless pussy and a vibrator pressed to her clit.
I undid my belt and unzipped my fly. Within moments, I was pulling myself free. Blood was rushing to my cock, and it was growing hard and long just at the thought of getting off. I leaned over and pulled open the bottom left drawer of my desk. I fished around for a while until I found a bottle of lube I had stored in there for this exact occasion. I struggled for a brief moment with the lid, cursing under my breath, until it finally unscrewed. I squeezed a dollop into my palm, dropped the lube back in the drawer, and kicked it closed.
I clicked play on the video.
As the girl from the thumbnail appeared in a lacy black lingerie set, I wrapped my fingers around my cock and worked the lube up and down until I was slick and slippery. The steady up and down felt so damn good, I maintained that pace for a while.
My eyes were on the girl as she stripped and stepped out of her lingerie. Her toes were painted red, and her legs were dangerously long—or that was an illusion cast by the six-inch heels she was rocking? I didn’t care. I was there for the quick payoff, nothing else.
She sat down on the edge of a white leather sofa with her knees pinched together. She teased the camera for a while before pushing them apart and running her fingers up the inside of her thighs. When her hands reached her pussy, she leaned back. One finger flicked over her clit while the other held her lips apart, giving the camera a good view of what she was working with.
My cock was throbbing. I pressed my thumb up against the sensitive spot right beneath the head and worked it in a slow circle. My rhythm matched the porn star’s.
There was something so sexy about a woman getting herself off. I had always thought so. It showed that she knew what she liked. It showed that she knew her body and was willing to fuck herself until she came.
I released the pressure I had on the tip of my cock and resumed the up and down motions. The warmth from my palm was pleasant, and the lube was still slick and erased all sensation of resistance.
I tightened my grip and pretended I was fucking a tight little pussy. The girl in the video was now pushing two fingers into herself. She was wet and ready for someone to fuck her. No one appeared to take care of her, so she leaned over and pulled a pink dildo into view. It was long and curved. She put it in her mouth and sucked on it as she fingered herself.
I gritted my teeth. I was getting close. I could feel the tension in all my muscles as my whole body prepared for the release I was so desperate for. I quickened my rhythm and let my fingers slide over the tip of my cock where it was the most sensitive. Little jolts of pleasure rippled through me at the softest touch.
The porn star pulled the dildo out of her mouth and her fingers out of her pussy. She placed the toy between her legs and pushed up until it slid inside her. She eased it in, her eyes seemingly fixed on me, much like the way Keddy’s had been.
My breath hitched in my throat. It was getting harder and harder to hold on. My cock was so hard now that had I let go, it would have been resting up against my belly.
The porn star began fucking herself with the dildo. Her juices leaked on the couch she sat on. I matched her cadence. After a short half a minute, I needed more lube.
I leaned down, my cock aching at not being touched, grabbed the lube and pumped a more generous amount into my hand. When I gripped myself again and began working my hand up and down a little shiver traced down my spine.
The girl in the video had her vibrator in one hand now. She must have grabbed it when I leaned down to get my lube. She had it resting on her clit. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted back so she was looking up at the ceiling. Soft little moans were whispering out of her lips. It was as if she were in the room with me, as if I was the dildo in her. I certainly wanted to be.
Her little moans grew louder as she zeroed in on her climax. I was right there with her. My cock was ready. It was pulsing in my grip. My balls were tightening in preparation to blow.
My stomach clenched, and I leaned forward. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the edge of my desk, ready to catch my come. I worked myself over, running my fingers over the very tip of my cock every time I pumped upward.
It was about to happen.
The girl in the video came. Her juices ran down the length of her dildo, and she left it in her pussy as she traced the vibrator over her clit some more. Her eyes were fluttering, and it seemed as though it was all she could do to stay upright.
I clenched my teeth. I worked faster, harder, until all at once, I could feel my balls release. I pressed the tissue to the tip of my cock right when I blew my load.
I grunted with pleasure as I came and pressed my head against the back of my chair. My eyes were still fixed on the porn star as she pulled the dildo out of her pussy and slipped her fingers back inside. She played with herself a little longer, pushing her pussy open with her fingers and then rubbing her juices all over her labia and clit. She was fucking sexy.
I tossed the tissue in the garbage can under my desk and grabbed another one to clean myself up. Once that was done, I tucked myself back into my boxers and did my pants back up.
I felt more at ease now. That mounting stress was not as prominent, and I was able to keep working for a couple more hours. When the sun was down and I was basking in darkness, I reached for the lube again.
Sometimes, a guy had to do what a guy had to do.