The Chip Babe Goes Down

"The stake that sticks out gets hammered down" was the warning my mother gave me when I decided to work at a hedge fund. I'd just gotten my MBA from Wharton, and I wanted to go toe to toe with the big boys. The fact that there were only a few women working as analysts seemed like an asset, not a liability, to me. And yet she couldn't resist casting a pall over my decision. I would stick out, sure. But there was no fucking way I would let myself get hammered.


Working as a stock analyst is a lot like working as an investigative journalist. You learn your industry. You analyze and model the performance of its key companies and divisions. You establish a network of sources, and you cultivate them relentlessly. You are constantly scanning your space for an insight that no one else possesses. But instead of publishing that insight openly, in a place like The Wall Street Journal, you share it with your colleagues who trade on it. Ideally, this makes you and your firm a lot of money.

It didn't take long, but I quickly discovered where my competitive advantage lay. While Wharton had burnished my capacity to count, my parents’ Nordic DNA had provided blonde hair and a slim physique. My gender was my differentiating asset. The founders of the Drekar Group, my employer, were cunning when they made technology my beat. Women are tragically scarce among its leaders. Moreover, its leaders are often the guys who struggled to get a date in high school. I was once a cheerleader. I've known nerd-lust since I was 16.

I immersed myself in the rigors and challenges of learning about an industry obsessed chips and fabs. If there was a conference in Barcelona, I was taking notes in every session and stalking the hotel lobbies. A tradeshow in Shenzen? I’d walk the floor and hang out at the hotel bar. I’ve probably attended every MeetUp in Silicon Valley. Where ever the industry hangs out and talks shop, you could find me wearing a form fitting dress in some eye catching color with my hair smooth and perfect thanks to twice weekly blowouts.

Yes, I used my sex appeal. Why wouldn’t I? My bonus in my first year was $200K. But once I started gleaning really good, actionable intelligence, I was earning nine or ten times that.

When I first hired into Drekar Group, it was a small, hungry hedge fund, with less than a billion under management. My colleagues and I performed very well, beating the indices and our peers for two years in a row. And with that success, we attracted more investors. Soon, we had over $8 billion to deploy.

More money sounds like more opportunities, but as you get bigger, it gets tougher to move the needle. You need bigger investments, bigger trades, bigger wins to satisfy the whiny investors who foolishly expect past performance to predict their returns. As a result, there was more and more pressure on analysts like me to find bigger and better opportunities for Drekar to exploit.

It didn’t take long, but the dresses started getting tighter and shorter. Every little edge was necessary, because I hated sitting through our strategy meetings listening to some poor schmuck getting reamed, and wondering if I was next. Fortunately, my efforts soon paid off. I found my guy. Mike Pierce was the CTO of TekTok, an enormous semiconductor equipment manufacturer. He knew who was ordering what, and he knew his own business very well. He also responded to my flirtations.

It all started innocently enough, as these things do. We ran into one another at the M.O. Bar at the Mandarin Oriental in Taipei. While on the road, I made a point of staying in the nicest hotels. Suffering in some low-thread-count Hilton didn’t appeal to me, and besides, you just never knew who you might encounter in the lobby or the bar. Decision makers and deal makers stay at the Mandarin, and if you have a choice between hanging with the monkey or the organ-grinder, why not choose the organ-grinder?

I recognized Mike right away. He was a little rumpled and jet-lagged from his flight, but he still looked like the photo on the TekTok website. His brown hair was thinning, his waist was thickening, but he moved like an athlete. Even without the benefit of a third Kir Royale, he was easy on my eyes.

Mike sat down beside me, and flagged the bartender. “Macallan 12, on the rocks. Make it a double.”

“Did you just fly in?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes. It may be a direct flight, but fourteen hours on a plane is a killer. Ambien only helps so much, you know?”

“Yeah. Getting here is a bitch. Although, I have to say, it sure beats being back home. I love hotels. Someone brings you food whenever you’re hungry. You can get a drink whenever you’re thirsty. There are maids to clean up every mess you make. Oh, and you meet such interesting people.” I gave him my most encouraging smile. “I wish I lived in a hotel!”

“You’re right. It’s good to get away. And you’re definitely right about room and maid service.”

The waiter arrived with Mike’s scotch, so I raised my glass to him. “Welcome to Taipei. May your meetings be productive, and may your sheets get all tangled.” I leaned in and whispered, “I know a hungry man when I see one, and that woman over there has been eyeing you ever since you arrived.” I pointed to a Chinese woman in the corner, who had never looked our way. “I think she’s a prostitute, and I bet she can teach you a thing or two.”

Mike blushed. “No. She’s not for me. I’m not here for that. And besides, I couldn’t do with her what I’m doing with you right now.”

“What’s that? Conversation? Oh yes…Conversation!” I leaned back in my chair. “Actually, I don’t blame you. She looks a little young and a lot mercenary. She’d suck your cock and your wallet dry.” I was trying to make him blush again, and I was succeeding.

Mike began to sit with a bit more energy. “You must spend a lot of time in hotel bars. You seem to know your way around ‘em.”

“Oh yeah. Far too much. I can look at everyone in this place and tell you their story - or something close to it. Then again, I bet you can too. Just looking at you, I can tell you’re also a natural at reading people.” I leaned in, and touched his thigh. “See that guy over there?” I pointed to an Asian gentleman sitting alone at a table, fiddling with his phone. “Tell me about him.”

Mike took a discreet look at the man. “Malaysian. Definitely Malaysian. Probably works for a billionaire and a shipment of lumber, no, of palm oil has gone missing. He’s on his phone because they’re tracking it down as we speak. And man, I hope it’s a logistics fuckup and not theft, because his boss is not afraid of taking casualties.”

“Geesh, you are good. By the way, I’m Andrea. And you are?”

“Mike.” We did the obligatory handshake, and settled back into our chairs. It was my turn to guess. Mike looked around, and gestured to the back wall. “OK, that guy over there by the window. The one with the really big head. What’s his story?”

“Do you mean the German-looking guy?” Mike nodded. “Oh, he’s easy. He’s a banker who just loves working in Asia. He’s based in Singapore, and working on some telecom deal. He probably has a hot wife back home, and an even hotter girlfriend here. I bet she stops by his table any minute wearing a tight little Chanel suit and nothing underneath.” I wanted to steer the conversation towards earthy things.

“And what are you doing here, Andrea? What brings you to this particular bar on this particular day?” He signaled to the bartender to get another drink. The first had disappeared while we played our guessing game.

“I like the anonymity of hotels. And hotel bars always feel so grown up, and yet, so filled with naughty and potential.” His hand migrated to my thigh, and I moved it between my legs. I leaned closer to the bar, and let my fingers push against the front of his pants. Despite the exhaustion of the flight, Mike had become very alert.

Mike waved at the bartender again. “Forget the drink. Just charge everything to room 810.” He took my hand from his crotch, and led me to the elevators. I followed, because that was exactly where I wanted him to go.

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside without saying a word. As soon as the doors shut, Mike pushed me against the wall of the elevator and began kissing me. I gasped. I hadn’t expected him to be so impatient and forceful, but I was game. I can give as good as I get, so I pulled his body even closer, but only for an instant. Then I pushed him away. We straightened ourselves up as the doors opened on the eighth floor.

We didn’t touch as we walked the length of the hall to Mike’s room. Perhaps he wanted to give me the chance to exercise any second thoughts, or maybe he didn’t want to look too dissolute on the closed circuit cameras. Whatever the reason, I had no hesitations about following him. He was my kind of man, and my kind of source.

He pulled a card key out of his pocket, and handed it to me. “I’d like you to join me now, or later. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Now.” I inserted the card key in its little slot and heard the chirp as the door opened. We both entered his room, without realizing that both of our lives had changed.

The door closed, and it was my turn to push him against the wall, and Mike didn’t resist. I leaned all 120 pounds of me into him, as I wrapped one arm around the back of his head, and clutched at his hair. He returned the favor by grabbing hold of my hair and pulling it back, tilting my head and exposing my neck. His kisses grew deeper and tougher, as he unzipped my dress with his free hand. He worked the simple shift off my shoulders, and it fell to the floor.

I took both of his hands in mine, as I stepped out of my dress. I wanted to slow him down, and let him appreciate what he’d been lucky enough to bring to his room.

I could see he was taking me in. I was wearing a delicate black guipure lace bra and matching panties. My black patent Louboutin’s screamed elegance and sensuality. And I was still wearing a long, gold necklace that hadn’t come off with my pink dress. My shoulder length blonde hair was down and tussled, making me look as though I’d just been fucked, even though I hadn’t.

The clothing differential pleased me. I liked that he was still wearing his suit, and that I resembled some kind of super vixen. “Mike, don’t move,” I ordered, and to my surprise, he stood still. I walked over to him, and removed his jacket. I dragged the blazer on the floor behind me as I slowly sauntered over to the large closet where his suitcase was stowed. I made sure my hips swayed a bit with every step. I hung up the jacket, and then walked back in an even more drawn out manner. The bulge in Mike’s pants had grown noticeably large.

I then placed my hands on his chest, and trailed them down to his waist, where I went to work on his belt. I pushed the stiff leather through the buckle, and removed the belt from his pants with a flourish. Mike had been still long enough. He outdid my move by tearing his shirt open, popping off two small, white buttons in the process. I was impressed. He was fully committed. He hopped as he quickly removed his shoes, and then wisely took off his socks before lowering his pants.

The clothing differential had evaporated. We were now both wearing only our underwear. Mike was still moving forward, and so was I. He lifted me up in his arms, and deposited me on the bed. We hadn’t even exchanged last names, and yet we were on the verge of intercourse. I admired his absence of hesitancy, and the cool with which he had brought me into the room. I felt sure our time together would be exciting and informative.

I stretched out on the bed provocatively, as Mike grabbed some condoms from his shaving kit. “Very smart, sir! Now put one on, and fuck me.” He did exactly as he was told.

Mike removed his boxers while I stripped off my panties. He rolled the condom down over his erect and ready cock, and then he thrust it into me. There was no grasping or grabbing, just an elegant, smooth push into my body. His penis filled my pussy, and I spread my legs as wide as possible, so it would go in even further. He lifted my legs up so that the backs of my thighs were against his chest, and he plunged into me. It was excruciating, but exhilarating. My ass was raised off the bed, as I accepted every thrust.

Mike’s pace picked up, and I began to rub my clit in tandem with his cock. He seemed surprised by my initiative, but it didn’t slow him. It only took a few moments before my arousal caught up with his. I quickly began to pant and writhe. I pushed as hard against his chest as I could, tensing the muscles in my legs and groin, which heightened every sensation in my pussy. Mike was undeterred by the force of my legs straining against him. He just held me tightly, and continued to thrust.

“Mike, I’m going to come…like nowwwww…” and I began to shudder as the nerve endings in my pussy and clit got overtaken with energy and excitement. Mike’s cock must have a brain or an instinct, because as soon as I began to tremble, I could feel it release as well. A few final thrusts, and he was thoroughly spent. We both lay back on the enormous bed, staring at the cream ceiling.

“Can I order in some room service? I know you like being served!” Mike grinned as he handed me the menu.

“How did you know I’m famished? My brain is so screwed up from getting here. My phone says it’s 9PM, but my stomach thinks it’s morning. Would it be strange if I ordered pancakes?”

“No, not at all. Besides, I want bacon and eggs. My brain thinks it’s morning, too.” Mike put on a robe as he dialed room service to place our order. “By the way, we never got around to all that polite conversational bullshit, but I’d really like to know more about you. Where are you from? What are you doing here? What’s your favorite food? What’s your last name? You know, all the things I should have asked before I jumped you.”

You jumped me? I thought I jumped you!” I grinned. It was time to share some information that might alarm Mike. “So the boring polite stuff…I live in Manhattan. I’m here for SEMICON. I love marzipan. And my last name is Jones. Your turn.”

“I live in Atherton. I’m also here for SEMICON. I love anything Thomas Keller prepares. And my last name is Pierce. Oh…and one other thing, I’m married.”

I nodded slowly. “Ah, I see. Well, isn’t that always the case? The good ones are all taken.” I exhaled audibly. “It would have been nice if you’d told me before we’d screwed.”

“Well, you didn’t really give me a chance.”

“Quite true. I’ll own that.” I looked down at my hands, which were clasped in my lap, in what I believed was an approximation of what a typical woman would do. “I guess I’m disappointed. You’re a very exciting man, and I’ve just discovered you’re committed. Also, we’re probably going to bump into one another over and over again. I need to process this a bit.” I wanted to telegraph that I was not the kind of girl who makes a habit of jumping strangers in hotel bars.

“I understand, and I’m sorry. Not sorry for what we did. But sorry I didn’t tell you at the bar. I wanted to be alone with you, and I let my instincts get in the way of my judgement. Frankly, I’d really like to see you again. That is, if you’re willing.”

He sat beside me, and stroked my shoulders. He drew my mouth to his for another kiss. I responded reluctantly, but I did respond. I opened my mouth enough to permit his tongue to enter, and to flick and tease at my lips. I responded in kind. We necked like teenagers at prom. And but for the fear of room service induced coitus interruptus, we’d have been in bed again.

The buzzer chimed, and the waiter rolled in the room service cart, revealing our plates with a flourish. Mike and I settled in on opposite ends of the table, nestled into our thick hotel bathrobes. “In addition to food on demand, I love hotel robes!”

We toasted one another with orange juice, and began a deeper conversation about our lives and work. Mike was shockingly candid about his job at TekTok, even after I told him I was an analyst at Drekar. He wasn’t giving me anything to trade on, but we shared gossip about some of his competitors and I gave him some insight into how the most uppity of activist investors evaluate their targets. He was curious and open, and he appreciated my outsider’s perspective. A comfort was growing

It took a couple of conferences and a few stolen nights in far-away hotel suites, before a true intimacy was established. I’m not talking about physical intimacy, we had that in Taipei, but rather, a business intimacy. I’d call Mike when he was working late at home, let him hear my vibrator humming, and purr into the phone, “Do you know what will get me off? Tell me something about your new ion implanter…talk to me, Mike!”

As odd as it may seem, this was the ultimate in hot nerd chat. I’d push the vibrator into my clit, and let him listen as my breathing got uneven. He thought giving me engineering stats, or referencing some obscure journal article while I moaned, was insanely kinky. I made a point of letting him hear my fingers work, letting him hear the buzz of the vibrator and the rustling of the sheets as I squirmed and strained. The more technical the specs, the harder I got off.

Eentually, he gave me the real information. The real numbers. And yes, my orgasms were real. How could I not come when he’d share some tidbit that I could trade on and get my bosses off my back? My excitement correlated with my likely bonus. These phone calls were serious, in addition to seriously arousing. I taped every chat, and transcribed them afterwards. When I’m having an orgasm, it’s hard to think, let alone remember details like TekTok’s progress at enhancing its beam angle. Mike’s information was gold.

It didn’t take long, but my reputation as an analyst started to spread in the industry. Bloomberg Markets put me on their list of best Semiconductor Analysts. CNBC put me on the air whenever they needed a good looking blonde as an antidote to all the Asian guys who cover tech. I’d show up hair and makeup ready, in a body-conscious dress that my stylist helped me select. I deployed every bit of media coaching Drekar paid for.

The day I was on "Squawk Box" wearing my green Roland Mouret dress, discussing the introduction of a revolutionary new chipset -- manufactured by one of Mike’s customers -- I went viral. My dress and I bounced all over Instagram, with the hashtag #ChipBabe. I loved the attention, even as it made it harder to do the nitty-gritty research that put me in the limelight in the first place. My mother, of course, was a killjoy. Every television appearance resulted in a warning about the perils of flying too high.

Mike and I still traveled the same circuit, attending the same conferences and meetings, but Mike stopped making as much time for me. Had I become too noticed? Was I too obvious? He needed discretion, and I understood the tension between his libido and his reputation.

Every now and then, we’d hook up, and it was always a blast. The sex was invariably intense. We’d get inside his hotel room, and he’d just grab me. I loved the way he’d push me up against the wall, and then he’d drive a leg between mine, forcing up my skirt and spreading my legs. I stopped wearing panties just to simplify matters. The sex had become angry, with a ferocity I found thrilling. And then there was the pillow talk.

One time, in Las Vegas, he just grabbed my hair, pushed me face down on the bed, and ordered me to wait there, unclothed, while he went into the bathroom. He came back naked, with a tube of lube. “Don’t move, or this could get very messy and extremely painful.” I didn’t budge. I was looking away when I felt something wet and cold being poured into the crack of my ass as Mike pulled my cheeks apart.

“Ah, it’s lube.” I felt the blob slowly oozing down my cleft, and onto my anus. One of Mike’s fingers met the thick liquid and directed it into me. His touch was firm and determined. “Oh god, are you going to butt fuck me?” He said nothing as a second finger invaded my ass, leaving it slick and friction free. “Mike, please be careful.” We had never had anal sex before, so I steeled myself. For once I was truly nervous and completely sincere.

Mike used his fingers to open me up. First one, then a second, and then an excruciating third. He moved his hand and slowly thrust his fingers in and out of me. It was dizzying, trying to contain my anxiety and manage my excitement. He wasn’t being particularly gentle, nor was he being harsh. It was almost a clinical exercise in opening me up enough to take his cock. I slowly started to relax, until he slipped in a fourth finger. We both paused and let the moment sink in. “Oh god, Mike, please take them out.” I didn’t like the way it was feeling, and I was terrified he might try for his thumb. “Please.”

“No, Andrea, you need to take this for me. And once I’m ready, I’m going to fuck your ass, and I’m not going to stop until I come.” I centered myself and tried to calm my breathing.

“Mike, if you’re going to do it, just fucking do it.” I looked back at him, and he seemed quite pleased. No doubt it was my anxiety at play, but his erection seemed enormous. His cock seemed downright menacing, it was so hard and engorged.

“You’re right, Andrea, I’m going to just fucking do it. And you’re going to just fucking take it.” He rolled on a condom, and then pushed the head of his cock up against my asshole. I was unsure if I should be still, bear down, open my legs further, or what. That uncertainty, however, was eliminated when he just pushed through.

All those minutes with his fingers circling inside of me had paid off, as my sphincter offered only token resistance. He pulled my hips back, inserting himself further into my rectum. He moved his cock around a bit, and then he eased me off him. “Oh boy, I wasn’t sure how much of that I could take. Thanks for going easy on me, Mike.” I straightened myself up and stretched, only to have Mike push me down onto the top of the desk.

“Oh, I’m not done with you. I just didn’t like the angle with you on the bed. This will work much better. So spread your cheeks, it’s time for round two.”

I got as comfortable as I could, with my torso on the top of the desk. I had to remove a pen from beneath my left breast, and push the phone aside lest we call the operator at some inopportune moment. I then reached back with my fingers, and complied.

Mike grabbed my hair with his left hand, as he used his right to guide his cock into my ass. I gripped the edge of the desk, just trying to stay steady and supported while he violated me. Once his cock was fully inside, Mike began to slowly thrust it while I arched my back, trying to find the easiest and best path for both of us. He was slow and methodical, just one careful push after another.

I was both aroused and terrified. And my nervousness wasn’t just about the act itself. I was surprised by Mike’s behavior. Was he angry at me? Was he pursuing some secret fantasy? Was this going to become part of our carnal diet? And why hadn’t we hooked up more? To go two months between assignations, and then to go straight to anal, seemed baffling.

Mike changed his tempo, and informed me, “I’m not letting you up until I’ve come in your ass, so you’d better get with the program.” I was unsure what he wanted, but I was determined to give it to him. What else could I do?

“Oh Mike, I need this so bad. Feeling your cock ramming in my ass is exquisite. I feel so possessed.” His fingers dug into my hips more deeply while his thrusts intensified in speed and force. “Please Mike, use my ass whenever you want. I need your cock in all my holes. Just fucking use me.”

He was enjoying my words, and his thrusts came harder and faster. His cock felt enormous, but it also felt close. I took one of my hands, and began to play with my clit. The intense sensations from all the nerves being activated by Mike’s cock, coupled with the nerves in my clit, made me light headed.

“Oh Mike, I need you to come. I need your cock to finish with my ass. I can barely take this. Please…” And despite my pleas, my body began to shake from my own orgasm. It rolled through me, beginning in my clit, and then extending towards my feet and my face. Even my upper lip tingled from the panting. And Mike came with a flourish. One long, thrust in, and I could feel the spasms through his body.

Mike washed his hands in the bathroom, and then returned to the bedroom. “Andrea, we need to end this. It’s getting complicated, and I’m worried.”

“Mike, you know I’m careful. I’d never let your wife know about me. About us. I enjoy your company too much. Your secret is completely safe.” I decided to concentrate on addressing the matter of his infidelity, rather than the sharing of trade secrets. “I’ve been married to my job so long that I need a man like you in my life. You’re more than a cock, and better than a husband. You’re perfect. I hope you’ll reconsider.”

We crossed paths infrequently after that, although we did have phone sex. Despite what he’d said about wanting to end things, he still called. And just like our earlier calls, I’d grind against my Magic Wand and work myself up to a frenzy. Meanwhile, Mike would share details about his deals and his products as I got closer to orgasm. This intelligence would invariably push me over the edge. The next day, I would incorporate this new information into my models and my colleagues and I at Drekar would trade on it.

I had resigned myself to finding a newer and better source. Mike’s stuff was good, but he wasn’t giving it up as often.

Drekar was like a nymphomaniac that required a constant stream of hot, wet, fresh information. My bosses were insatiable. They were already all over me, pressuring me to come up with intelligence on other companies and other technologies. And yet, they were using my higher profile as a marketing tool – Drekar has the “Chip Babe” – the clients loved that shit and even more money poured into our latest fund. Buzz is fun, and my ego adored it. But in my business, you eat what you kill and I still had to slaughter.

A week before a big conference in San Diego, I got an email from Mike, saying he was going to be there, and would I be in attendance? I had actually planned to return to Wharton – the b-school had invited me to join their advisory panel – but I was worried that things were over with Mike and this conference was probably my last opportunity to use him. The gaping maw at Drekar had to be fed, so I committed to attending.

I was in my hotel room in San Diego, when I got the text from Mike. “Room 422.”

I replied, “CU in 5.” I needed a few minutes to give him an evening he wouldn’t forget. I’d gone to La Perla and invested some of my last bonus in an extraordinary red bra and panty set. The silk cups were embroidered with gold leaves and edged with delicate gold lace. The panties were high cut and exaggerated the length of my legs. I rolled on a pair of lace top thigh highs, and zipped up my favorite red dress by Gucci. It had a low neckline and a high slit, and it embodied a louche sexuality and glamor that would give Mike plenty to think about after I had left.

I was on the 5th floor, so it was only the shortest of elevator rides to get to Mike’s room. I ran into no one enroute, so no one saw me in my tight red mini and my highest Louboutin heels.

When Mike answered the door, he had an odd look on his face. He almost seemed pained to see me. “Andrea, you look amazing. How have you been?” He didn’t grab me, let alone touch me. Apparently, we had regressed to a period of polite conversation.

“Great, thanks, Mike. But I’ve really missed you. Can we get a little more comfortable, and talk a bit?” I walked into his room without waiting for his answer.

“Sure. But I think it’s better if we stay dressed. OK?” Mike loosened his tie, and put his suit jacket over the back of the chair where he’d been sitting. He brought a second chair next to the desk chair, and offered it to me.

“Whatever you say, Mike. I understand your situation and your needs. I don’t want to do anything that gets you in any trouble with your family.” I would pretend this was only about his marriage. I sat down, and said little. The silence seeped into the moment. Spontaneously, and without effort, I began to cry. Was I sad about being rejected? Sad that my bonus might suffer? Sad that I’d have to find another man like Mike? Yes. Yes. And Yes.

Mike put an arm around my shoulders, to comfort me. This only made me cry more. I hated seeming so vulnerable, and yet there was nothing I could do to stop myself. Mike began to stroke my hair and murmur kind things in my ear. “Andrea, you’re so gorgeous, but we just can’t do this anymore. I can’t see you anymore. You’ll find someone better. You deserve more.”

I rested my head on his chest, and felt the warmth of his body. His hands betrayed his best intentions, however. His left hand began drifting down my back, and his right tilted my head to his for a kiss. My tears responded to his touch, and I regained control of myself as I sought to regain control of the moment. I ran my fingers along his face, and kissed him back. “Oh Mike, I know this is wrong. Maybe one last time? Just one more time. OK?”

Mike said nothing in reply. He didn’t need to. I watched as he removed his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile by the bed. I paused, and let him get naked, so he could watch me undress. I wanted the visual of me peeling off my deep red dress etched in his mind, for all those occasions when he’d be lying in bed with his wife, talking about the kids or the dog or whatever nonsense married couples discuss.

I pushed him down, so that he was seated on the edge of the bed, and I began to slowly unzip my dress. The Gucci has one of those back zippers that requires yoga-like contortions to reach the pull. I made it look easy, and inched the zipper down with deliberate slowness. I could see him taking it all in.

Once I eased it off my shoulders, the dress fell to the floor. I stepped out of it, and paused in the middle of the room so Mike could appreciate my thousand dollar investment in lingerie. He sat quietly, with his arm resting casually on the headboard, revealing the extent of his arousal. I rolled down and removed my stockings. Having regained my composure, I impishly tossed the hose at his face. He shook his head in disbelief as he batted them away.

I walked over to Mike, and let him remove my bra and panties. He did so with a delicate and deliberate touch. He knew it would be the last time we’d enjoy each other, and he had made the decision to savor it. There’s something exquisitely poignant about a final fuck, and we were both wallowing in the moment. Mike pulled me onto his lap, and began to kiss my mouth, neck and breasts. His hands roamed over my body, as if I were covered in braille and he was trying to spell out and remember every word.

I pushed his knees apart, and knelt on the floor between them. I wanted him to think about my lips worshipping his cock, and my tongue lapping at its head. It would be a blowjob to remember. I began slowly, using the very tip of my tongue to toy with his organ, and delighting as he threw his head back. As I was settling in for a more thorough tease, I toppled the desk chair where he had been sitting.

Mike’s jacket fell to the ground, and its contents scattered on the floor. I paused, worried I might break something, and began to gather up his things. Mike seemed startled and unsettled. “Don’t worry about it, Andrea. Keep doing what you were doing.”

“No. It’s cool. I’ll just be a moment.” It was a bit sadistic, but the prospect of him being on edge while I rummaged on the floor had a certain appeal. Mike got down on the floor with me, and it became a race to get all his stuff gathered up. He found the billfold. I found a couple of pens. And then I spotted his phone. It was turned on, and recording our every word. I held it up to him, “Wouldn’t video be preferable to audio?”

Mike grabbed the phone from me, and I saw his fingers tremble as he turned it off. It took a mere moment for my brain to click over from arousal to alarm, as I realized he wasn’t recording coitus, he was recording evidence.

I stood up, wrapped myself in the room's plush, white bathrobe and gathered my clothes. I didn’t even bother to put on my dress. I just padded down the hall to the elevator and returned to my room. My first call was to Drekar’s general counsel, who immediately referred me to outside counsel. We both agreed I needed someone with expertise in white collar crime.

It wasn’t long before the FBI called, and revealed they had tapes of everything. Mike had been recording our late night chats for months. He’d even taped our time together in Las Vegas. I cringed at the prospect of the FBI guys listening in as Mike shoved his fingers up my ass.

I was merely a pawn, however. It was my bosses that the FBI wanted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could tell them. The bosses had engineered the company to protect themselves. For once, there was nothing I could trade to get what I needed. I had become collateral damage in the endless war between the SEC and the highest flying hedge funds. The “Chip Babe” was going down. The headlines practically wrote themselves.

The Feds made a big production of my trip to court. They cut me no slack, and one of the agents must have tipped off the media. CNBC and FOX were there with cameramen. The New York Times had a photographer, and so did the Post. The very cameras that had once captured me talking up some semiconductor stock, were now capturing me on my perp walk. Once again, I went viral: #ChipBabe #JailBabe #LooksGoodInHandcuffs all trended on Twitter.

I hated to admit it, but my mother was right. The stake that sticks out does get hammered down. But so what? Now I just had to make the best of things. I was determined to stick out as I walked into court. I held my blonde head up and did my best to smooth my favorite green Mouret dress. While the cameras flashed in my face, I gave the photographers my most charming and seductive smile. My true fate was a question of mind over hammer. Handcuffs are actually a turn-on, I decided. And in prison, I’d just learn to love pussy.

One In The Same

After all, Maggie and George lived in the same townhouse. Downtown and a mile north of the theater district, they owned the old stone upright outright, were its only occupants, and so had the entire place to themselves. They lived in the same building but in separate apartments, on different floors, as a reluctant and ill-defined nod to propriety; she on the 2nd floor and he on the 4th, with the 3rd floor between them sound-proofed and dedicated as a studio and...


Island Royale: Institutional White Slavery in the New Millennium (REPOST)

This is a repost of the story I recently submitted, edited as necessary because of the limitations of the XNXX website format which confuses graphics, inexplicably substitutes a question mark for quotation marks at times, and does not permit footnotes. It is hoped therefore that this reposting will provide more clarity. I have also reposted the story as one entire novella because it is hoped the sprinkling of negative comments I have received results from the...


The Devils Pact Chapter 53: The Fall of Rome

Introduction: Chase plans the downfall of her parents and their Theocracy. The Devils Pact by mypenname3000 edited by Master Ken Copyright 2013, 2014 Chapter Fifty-Three: The Fall of Rome Visit my blog at My name is Chasity Alberta Glassner, the Tyrants daughter. I write these words down so my motivations will not be lost to time, and so there will be no confusion, speculation, or misunderstanding about my actions. Excerpt from The Tyrants...


The Kink Palace

Introduction: In the near future, a young Irish girl fulfills her fantasy of becoming a prostitute at Japans most expensive brothel: the Kink Palace, a place where there are no limits… only price-tags. Chapter One ———– So what are the risks of… you know. Of dying? Kathryn asked. We take every precaution, the Japanese man across from her guaranteed. He was in his late forties – gaunt, stoic, the stereotypical Asian businessman in a sharp suit and thin...


The Ten of Them: chapter 16

In our last chapter we discovered a treasure buried by our great-great-great-grandfather John Thurgood, among the gold and silver were several stock certificates from 1929. The fall of Wall Street that year brought about bank collapses and the start of the Great Depression. That led to our great-great- great-grandfather doing his best to safeguard is wealth for the familys future. He buried a good portion of his wealth. But his death brought about problems in the family,...


Island Royale: The Report (Chapter Six)

Introduction: Please read from the beginning…. Chapter Six ______________,,______________ Greg had warned me that Alexis was on a pretty tight schedule, and so the next morning, after having only fucked the cute little fourteen-year-old a couple of more times, I dismissed Anya from my quarters, showered, and arrived at Alexis apartment actually a pair of rooms much like the Guests quarters promptly at 10:00 a.m. Alexis greeted me pleasantly, dressed in a...


Young, effeminate teenager takes my seed like the good and submissive teacher’s pet that he is.

I had just started my current vacation of three weeks in total, when I traveled to Sweden to visit my parents for a few days, staying in the guest bedroom of their small but comfy house, located in the outskirts of the harbor town Gothenburg. The world cup (in soccer) had just started, with my dad intent on watching most of the matches. Having been reassured, both through their own words and from my own observations, that everything was indeed more than fine with my now...


Other Colors - Ch. 21 (section 1)

Part 2 – Blue (continued) Due to length, this chapter has been split into two sections.  Chapter 21 (section 1) Brides wear white because of Queen Victoria. It has nothing to do with hymens, age, or innocence. Angels wear white because it was the color of burial shrouds. Snow is white because clouds are white. Clouds are white because they scatter the seven royal colors of the sun. As through a prism — neatly cut, in colored ribbons. Hardly ten days into my...


The Chip Babe Goes Down

"The stake that sticks out gets hammered down" was the warning my mother gave me when I decided to work at a hedge fund. I'd just gotten my MBA from Wharton, and I wanted to go toe to toe with the big boys. The fact that there were only a few women working as analysts seemed like an asset, not a liability, to me. And yet she couldn't resist casting a pall over my decision. I would stick out, sure. But there was no fucking way I would let myself get hammered. ***...


The Major's Pretty Baby Face

By Beagle9690 June, 2011 ****************************** I found his note instructing me to wake him by four in the afternoon when I returned from a pleasant early afternoon lunch date with his mother. My Master, Matthew, naps after workouts on his pommel horse or weight machine in the basement. In preparation, I will undress completely and take down my dark honey blond hair. Today I wore it in a braided bun as he instructed before I left the house. It...


My Favorite Sites

By viewing this website you are affirming that you are at least 18 years old, if you are not leave now.
Parents protect your kids by using net nanny or cyber patrol.

Main Page | Fresh Videos | Porn List | Porn Stories