Fifty Shades of Lies Page 3

  “Good afternoon ladies,” the black woman waved to the blondes, as she departed through the sliding doors.

  “Mr. Maximillion will see you now, Miss Ridame,” Blond Number Two said.

  I stood up, feeling rather shakily, collecting my thoughts and my little Chanel. One might think I was seeing the dentist. I left the water on the side table and made my way through the partially open door.

  “Miss Ridame?” the latest blonde asked.

  “Yes,” I croaked, clearing my throat, then turned toward her. “Yes,” there, that sounded more confident.

  “Please, knock three times then enter.” She smiles kindly.

  “But, it’s open,” I whispered. What’s with all the theatrics? I thought. I felt as if I was being initiated into some private club, or worst yet an occult.

  I knocked three times, as she had ordered, then slowly pushed open the door. My ankle twisted and I stumbled through, tripping over my own feet, as usual, and fell headlong onto the office floor—landing on carpet. Thank God, it was carpeted. Shag red blazing carpet. For a minute, I thought I fell into the lake of fire. My knees were sure to be carpet burned. I felt my cheeks ignite to a shade of crimson too.

  “Ouch.” I squealed.

  “What. Are you okay?” His voice penetrated every cell in my body.

  Here I am, down here, making my intro. I was on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Maximillion’s office, when gentle hands wrapped around my waist, helping to pull me up. I was so embarrassed. Damn, my clumsiness. I had to brace myself to glance up. Holy shit fire, he was so fucking gorgeous. I limberly brought myself to my knees. Oh Lord, I was perfectly aligned with his crotch. Putting me in the position, if I knew him better, to give him what Bleu-Rae suggested—a blowjob. I could just pray… that he unzips his pants so I can take a small peek inside at the goods.

  “Miss Ridame…” he extended a long-fingered hand to me. In one quick movement I stood up in a daze, mentally pinching myself. “I am Steele Maximillion. Are you hurt? Would you like to sit?” He fanned his hand through the air toward the sofa.

  Like a cliché from a movie, our eyes met first. Time stood still. My heart nearly stopped beating. His face alighted with a twinkle in his sexy gray eyes. He was so young and attractive. Devastatingly, handsome. Tall, chiseled, with lean expansive shoulders. His face was unshaven. If I had to guess, the facial hair appeared to be a day or so long. He was dressed in a fine dark-gray polished shirt that molded to his muscular frame. His blue jeans hung low on his trim hips. I am not talking low, like a gangster, but low at the waist. He was very stylish. Turn around I want to see your ass the voice in my head demanded. His hair was unruly and stylish too, black, thick waves, mixed with strands of gray. Damn, could I have fallen for the man of my dreams?

  “Err… actually…” It took a moment for me to find my voice, and I think my mouth had plopped open in astonishment.

  If this guy is over thirty-three then I’m a monkey’s aunt. I extended my hand to his still in a daze, as we shook. When our sweaty palms touched, I felt a strange current go through me. It was notably hot as crap in his office, couldn’t he afford air-conditioning? He stirred every female impulse that my body was capable of feeling. I withdrew my hand hastily. I could feel my lashes, blinking rapidly, matching my accelerated heart rate. I imagined this is what shock treatment would feel like; a bit stoned and tongue tied. I could not think straight. My brain was melting… other parts of me were on fire too. Soon, I would be nothing, but a puddle of water for someone to mop away.

  An image of one of Mr. Maximillion’s blondes entered the office. She was wearing an itsy bitsy, naughty maid’s uniform and black spikes, dangling a mop in her hand. I quickly shuddered the thought away.

  “I am not sure why I am here… err, I mean… I want to be on your show to find a husband,” I nervously gasped. I would have rather been on his lap right about now, seducing him. Dang, I was thinking like a woman of the night down on Sunset and Vine. One that was willing to give him a freebie.

  “Are you sure about that…?” His voice was warm, possibly amused with my answer, but it was difficult to tell from his impassive expression. My squeamish behavior; was it that noticeable? He looked mildly interested, but above all so powerful and in control.

  “Oh yes. Very sure,” I lied. Oh Lord I lied, again. It was my first vocal lie ever in my entire life. I never even said a white lie. If I had ever been face to face with a reason to lie I would either walk away, which is rude, but better than lying, or I would tell the truth… which made me come across to most people as if I had no filter.

  “Bleu-Rae Ridame, what an interesting name. I bet you can’t wait to change it.” He chuckled. As he walked deeper into the office space… I followed.

  “Yes, a name change would be great.” I sighed timidly, wondering what was so interesting about my name? I guessed he was referring to my last name. Well, in this case, Bleu’s name would be a great place to start.

  “Would you like to sit down?” He waved me towards the red leather buttoned U-shaped couch.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  The room was vast with an enormous modern black lacquer desk in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything else was white except on the wall by the door, there’s was a collage of small sculptures; fifty odd shapes of plaster, arranged in a triangle… they were exquisite, a series of mundane, forgotten objects. At my closer observation I noticed each piece was highly phallic, resembling female and male body parts. Displayed together, they were breathtaking. The combination was one fabulous piece of art. Expensive—I was sure of it. I stopped and stared. Mr. Maximillion followed my eyes with his.

  “It was created by a local artist. Jennifer… I found her a husband two season’s ago.” He said when he caught my eyes.

  “They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmured, distracted, by him and by the art as I took a seat. I sank deep into the folds of the billowy sofa, feeling very unstable, and awkward. He stood hovering over me like a dark angel.

  “Yes, Miss Ridame,” he replied softly, referring to the sculptures. “Very lovely, indeed.” I flushed uncomfortably, knowing very well he was no longer referring to the paintings, but me. “Are you comfortable,” he smiled.

  “Not really,” I said just above a whisper, resigning to the fact that I could not lie.

  “I am sorry to hear that, please, take a moment to get comfortable.” His tone was sincere. He took a seat opposite me in one of the white loungers. I shifted my weight upward, sitting on the edge of the sofa and squared my shoulders. This gave me a sense of control. If I was going to “ace” this interview; it had to be done with some dignity. He adjusted his long legs, he seemed very uncomfortable as he crossed one knee over the other, then cocked his head to one side and regarded me intently. Then he uncrossed his legs and sat with them wide apart, spread eagle to be precise. He tried crossing them again, but to no prevail spreading them into the shape of a V. My eyes inadvertently kept flashing on the oversized package that he was struggling with between his thighs. Who could blame me? It looked like the size of a very large cucumber.

  I had to focus on something else, maybe his strong Greek nose—

  “So what is it that you do—when you are not looking for a husband?” He smiled genuinely. His thumb rested under his chin and his index finger tapped against the bridge of is nose. For a sec, I thought it grew too, to epic lengths. God, what was in the water they gave me?

  “I’m studying modeling. I attend Barbizon School of Modeling. It is supposed to be the best. I, also, sell organic produce on the side. I am very green oriented.” I knotted my fingers, and bit my lip, wondering if he approved. His organic man fruit seemed to be straining in his pants.

  “I see… that’s a great start. Many stay at home mom’s are into that stuff,” he said simply. I thought that I saw a ghost of a smile in his expression, but I was not sure. Little did he know; I had no intentions of becoming a mother anytime so
on.

  “I have no intentions of becoming a mom anytime, in the near future.” I recklessly blurted out my thoughts. Crap, I yelled inwardly at my lack of subtlety.

  He glared at me oddly, and a dissatisfied fixed stare lingered in his eyes. I could not hold his—perhaps, disappointed expression. I was certainly blowing this interview.

  Blowing, now, there’s that word again that Rae had mentioned this morning. Should I offer him a blowjob of epic satisfaction for the opportunity to be on the show? He was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen, easy on the eyes, and I would not mind seeing the rest of him either. A pang of blazing hot adrenaline traveled to all exteriors of my body… and riveted to the apex of my thighs. I needed a quick distraction. My eyes scanned the office.

  Apart from the painting the rest of the room was pleasant enough, and quite exotic, clean… dark and handsome. But, the most gorgeous element in the office was the tempting Mr. Maximillion. He was sculpted like a Greek god, a vision of perfection, sitting perfectly posed and captivating my womanhood’s attention. My eyes fell to the large package that now seemed to be pulsating between his legs. Oh my, it felt like the air in the room had stopped flowing. The heat was unbearable. I inadvertently fanned my face with my hand. It was impossible to cool the rush; it came from deep within. I was disturbed and astonished by where my thoughts were heading.

  “I think every woman needs to have her own interest.” His voice echoed in the depths of my ears.

  I was temporarily preoccupied with the thought of crawling into his lap… it felt almost like a psychic premonition unfolding in my mind. The magnetic draw between us was imperceptible. I felt it. His pheromones radiated into the most primitive part of my faculties. I was on high alert to attack or be attacked.

  I slinked off the sofa and crawled across the floor like a white panther on all fours. It was purely instinctual. The feeling was overwhelming. Nothing short of a natural disaster would stop me from giving pleasure to him. I was in heat—like an alley cat functioning on pure instincts. I desired to partake of his carnal flesh, and to relish in what was to come…

  When I reached the foot of this strong sire, there was no trepidation, no hesitation on my part. Gracefully, I positioned my tiny frame between his long powerful legs, resting my elbows on his knees. I seductively began to unzip his pants with my teeth.

  His eyes beckoned me with an expression of approval, as they locked with mine. He adorningly fixed his eyes upon my every move as I unfurled his massive sex. A wicked lascivious smile surfaced on his beautiful unshaven face. Oh my, his swollen manhood was so thick, long and pulsating from the heat of his blood.

  I started by holding his member with one open fist, in which I could not completely grasp with my fingers. I then licked the length of his cock. With my other hand I massaged his balls, glancing up every now and then to see his reaction. The tip of my tongue followed along the firm dorsal vein of his sex, as I blew short warm breaths on my way up. I stroked the length of him in fluid pumping movements, heightening his lusty desire. This soared my passion too. His sturdy vessel grew in girth with every provocative touch I made, validating that he wanted me. I licked my lips, cooing and preparing to take all of him. My salacious desire was to linger on his phallus for all eternity.

  I slowly inhaled deeply acclimating and lengthening the back of my throat for his vast member. I was hungry for every inch of this man’s velvet vein-y sword. My tongue swirled around the smooth enlarged crown of his cock then flickered along the sturdy edge of its head. This is an extremely sensitive area. I copulated my lips around his entire scepter, devouring his sex completely. The length of his shaft caused my throat muscles to constrict tightly around him, as I swallowed hard. This was overwhelming. Involuntary tears welled in my eyes. Tears of determination.

  I further kneaded his balls—correction, his big balls, allowing my fingers to tantalizing his perineum. My eyes fluttered intermittingly, glancing up into his dreamy eyes that were fixated on me, as I inhaled. The gaze in his eyes was hypnotic, diffusing passion through my veins that course heat into the apex of my wet sex. I twisted my mouth around his cock up and down stimulating his sensitive shaft. His body shuddered beneath my touch, fisting his fingers into my silken hair. This was his last and only attempt, whereas, signaling me he was nearing ecstasy.

  There was no way I would let up, pushing him deeper into my salivating mouth. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he had ever experienced. His breath panted, rapidly. The sound of his voice, his moans, and his pulse vibrated wildly, matching the throbbing sensation, riveting to the core of my pink love tunnel. I sped up my movements, my head bobbed up and down as I fucked his ever-expanding dick with my mouth. I pulled his cock out of my mouth, and begged him to come inside. His Steely muscle vibrated in my palm. I took a couple deep breaths, opening my lips and ravaged him down to the core.

  Within seconds he exploded like a geyser; his sweet seeds shot to the back of my throat. I fervently licked the aftermath that oozed from the corners of my lips. Oh, he tasted so edible, like a candied apple. An Apple? I questioned myself. I swallowed hard, cheeks flushed, certain that I had pleased him to the fullest. A job well done.

  His body went languid, yet his manhood stood erect and hard within seconds, again. He had a zero refractory period. This man had the libido of a stealth jet and I knew just where he could land. He could be a perpetual fucking machine if he wanted to be. My insatiable appetite wanted to suck on him forever. Instead, he reached down and pulled me up onto his lap, our stares were intense. I felt heat scattering to my weighted limbs. His long fingers sensuously caressed my warm cheeks; he then tilted my chin upward. Our breath met first then he passionately leaned nearer to kiss me. I closed my eyes. No, in reality, I closed my eyes, and cooed out loud.

  “Are you okay, Miss Ridame?” Suddenly, a shadow crossed over my closed eyelids. It was Mr. Maximillion, waving his long hand in front of my face.

  I cringed inside, certainly flushing from the heat all over. My fingers knotted in my lap. I blinked twice, clearing away the erotic vision. How do you recover quickly from giving the best fantasy blowjob to a mogul? If he only knew, where I was a moment ago, he would be enjoying this interview much more.

  My core fluttered from little waves of warm sensations. Hormonal overload. The aftershocks lingered from my deep throat debut. Linda Lovelace would be proud of my performance. I heard they were doing a remake, perhaps, I will audition—but only if Mr. Maximillion was my leading man.

  I flashed down at my thighs, mentally holding my breath, I dreaded that the moisture from my mouni had dripped passed my short hemline. I was mortified when I saw evidence of female nectar streaming down my legs. I clasped my calves together trying to dissolve the moisture. Damn… I grabbed a pillow and tried to camouflage my drippings. God, I prayed it didn’t seep onto his sofa.

  “Oh yes, I was contemplating your question—and I agree.” Then I bit the inside of my cheek, having no idea what I had agreed too.

  “Do you need a tissue I see—” He was staring at my legs. I desperately tired to wrap them beneath the bolster of the sofa. What a mess I must have looked like.

  “No, it’s just water—water from—” I tossed my head looking fanatically around for my ice water. Shit it’s in the waiting room. I could feel the skin on my face melting with embarrassment.

  He handled me a tissue, anyway. “It’s kind of hot in here isn’t it?”

  “Hot, as hell,” I hoarsely blurted out. “So, you were saying.” I said, changing the subject.

  “So if you find a husband on my show—will you keep modeling or take on the duties of a business man’s wife? Which can be quite different from marrying a nine to five working man.” He nodded, solidifying his male-chauvinistic ideologies. “Most multimillionaires expect their wives to be at their beckon call, or well, he may pay another pretty woman on the sly to satisfy his needs.”

  Hum, what if the millionaire is the wife? Asshole. “Hum, as for your questio
n, it sounds like a trick question. First you say a woman should keep her own identity… then you say that being married to a multimillionaire is her job. Are you kidding me?” My eyes beamed in on his. “I am not going to marry a man that I have to submit too.” I hissed. “I am the prize here.” I bit my tongue.

  Mr. Maximillion furrowed his forehead, and nodded despondently. His smile fell into a tight straight-line. He didn’t seem too pleased with my reply. I am not sure why I was feeling so emotional about his questions. It wasn’t like I was going to be on the show anyway. I almost forgot I was only filling in for Bleu-Rae. I knew I would have to restrain my views, opinions and reframe from talking-with-out thinking first. A tongue like mine can get me into big trouble. I had to think like my sister.

  “Life is a conundrum for sure—you never know what you will do for a love interest, until you are faced with the choices or ultimatums,” he said, with a crooked smile. Was he conceding to me? I had not expected this in the least.

  “Well, isn’t that the truth.” I agreed. No need to be combative… at this point. I would save my ammunition, in case he brought out his big steel gun.

  “Truth. There’s a word.” His gray eyes narrowed, surely contemplating.

  I smoothed a stray lock of hair behind my right ear. “I am ready when you are,” I replied. I felt the heat in my cheeks rise and I pulled myself up in attempt to look taller and intimidating.

  “Just a few more general questions… if you don’t mind my trick questions that is?” he asked, beaming a deadpan stare.

  Was he teasing me again, or mad? I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. Keeping in mind this was all for Bleu-Rae. I didn’t give a flying fuck about being on his show. I wondered why the fuck I allowed him to intimated me to the core? I will probably never see this man again after today. This saddened me in a strange way. There was something about him that moved me; apart from his bulging package that I lusted for, there was more of him I wanted to put my fingers on. Something dark, mysterious, and penetrating dwelled in him. This had definitely caught my undivided attention.