A Fistful Of Dollars - Sex Stories

A Fistful Of Dollars

... charge you only two thousand dollars a day. The money goes directly to my bank account and we bypass the establishment. Nobody needs to know of our arrangement,” I said to him. Jon’s reply was, “You are a good business woman Cinnamon. I like your proposition and I will call you in the morning. Can I please have your telephone number?” Before leaving, Jon had only one request; that I strip quickly for him, so he could view my wares. I obliged and was soon standing naked in front of him. Looking down to his crotch, I could see a growing bulge appear, signs that I met his approval. Quickly dressing again, I kissed Jon goodbye for the night and told him he wouldn’t be sorry if he wanted me for those other nine days. As I was being driven back home, I could see hundred dollar notes flashing before my eyes. The following morning, I was anxiously waiting for a telephone for a call from Jon. What I had suggested to Jon the previous night went against management policy at The Gentle Touch . Being owned by a crime syndicate, I could easily be disposed of and found floating in the Yarra River for holding out on them with their precious money. Around 8:15am, the phone rang; it was Jon calling to confirm he wanted me for the remaining nine days. Jon informed me he had to meet with Rupert Hamer, the Premier of Victoria and some of his ministers regarding a possible nuclear plant to be constructed in Victoria. He asked me to be at The Rialto Hotel at 3:00pm sharp. “Who was that on the ...

... phone? Gayla asked me inquisitively. “It was only my mother Gayla. Mum and dad want me home during the school holidays as they haven’t seen me for a while. Dad is in poor health as well.” I replied, telling her a fib. “What about work on Friday and Saturday night,” Gayla queried. “I will phone up the manageress and tell her I can’t work this weekend as my parents need to see me. “ I had to cover my butt somehow and that was as good an excuse I could come up with. During the morning, I packed my bags when Gayla wasn’t around; to avoid any suspicion. I told her I was catching the afternoon train at Flinders Street Station to go home on and see my parents. Some fifteen minutes before three o’clock, my taxi arrived outside and I asked the cabbie to take me to The Rialto Hotel . Jon was patiently waiting for me at the foyer. On my arrival, he approached the concierge to take my bags to his room. Jon had had a long day with the Victorian Government and he looked a little tired. Needing a dink to relax, John ushered me to a private lounge within The Rialto . I ordered a Brandy Alexander while Jon ordered a double Jack Daniels on the rocks. We chatted for about forty-five minutes before heading upstairs to his regal looking suite. After entering his palatial suite with an expensive décor, Jon turned me around and kissed me. His embrace was firm and warm as our lips met for what seemed an eternity. Pulling back momentarily, Jon whispered in my ear that he had been dreaming of me all last ...