Miltone
Shameless Romantic
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2001
- Posts
- 1,493
How often have we been challenged to stretch the boundaries of our experience? Do we really know how far we will go to satisfy the needs of someone else, as well as our own darkest desires, especially those that we never knew we had?
Please join the lovely and talented Sinful_whispers as we weave a tale of personal and sexual discovery!
IC: Charles “Chase” Bradford pushed back in his plush leather chair from the massive mahogany desk littered with stacks of envelopes and resumes and photographs. Maybe this hadn’t been the easiest way to find his special personal assistant, but it had been a lot of fun. His rugged six-foot two-inch frame rose up from the chair and moved toward the wall of floor to ceiling windows. Gazing out from the 28th floor of the building that bore his family’s name presented him with a commanding view of the Dallas skyline. The influence of oil money was everywhere, in the modern architecture of the reflective glass and steel skyscrapers, the gleam of sleek and expensive cars and luxury trucks—the Dallas Cadillacs, and the comfortable and the plush neighborhoods that stretched almost endlessly toward the horizon. Chase felt the impact of oil money in his own life. His grandfather had earned a famous reputation as a notoriously successful wildcatter and then his father had parlayed that booming business into a powerful worldwide empire. After Chase had graduated from humble and modest Kilgore College, they had both insisted that he start at the bottom and work his way up from the grubby rigs in the east Texas dirt and the Saudi sand to the sweat and pressure of trading futures in New York and London before they would turn the keys to the boardroom over to him. It had made him appreciate the trappings of wealth and success that many of his friends and contemporaries often took for granted. It had made him work all the harder to expand the family’s power and influence.
He had it all, a huge house in the most exclusive suburb, vacation homes in Vail, Palm Springs, and Cobb’s Cove, a fleet of cars and a private jet to take him wherever he wished to go, a small but devoted personal staff, and more money than god to provide for it all. There had been a Mrs. Bradford—three of them to be exact. At first, they had seemed to be all he could ask for in a woman, beautiful and intelligent, sexy and charming. As girlfriends and fiancées, they had given willingly to his desires and needs. They had traveled and had great fun teasing and role-playing, and had made love with wild abandon. But it seemed that once they put a Mrs. in front of their names and his family name at the end, all of that changed. His sexual needs and desires, which they had previously relished and entertained warmly, were now sick and twisted and perverted. For some reason they somehow thought that they could change him, improve him, make him more worthy of their newfound station in life. It had taken wife Number One ten years to change from playmate to nag; Number Two had lasted two years; Number Three six months. That was all it took each one to forget who was responsible for their envious social standing and lofty economic position.
But Chase never gave a second thought about his divorces. He signed the papers, cut the fat checks, left without saying goodbye, and never, ever looked back. But it didn’t take long for him to recognize that something—someone—was missing in his life. After all that had happened, he realized that he didn’t really need or want a wife; what he wanted was—for lack of a better word—a playmate. Given his recent romantic history he knew what she wouldn’t be, but he also had a good idea of what she would look like and how she would act. Finding the right woman had been the challenge. He had dabbled with a hooker or two but that was simply cold and impersonal. Good friends provided innumerable setups and blind dates, but those hadn’t resulted in more than a forgettable weekend or two. He was determined that he wouldn’t lose again. It was actually big Pete, a long-time family friend and his personal chauffeur the man who knew Chase as well as anyone, who had suggested running a personal advertisement in select local newspapers around the country, even to the point of writing the ad for Chase.
Chase made it clear that he didn’t want a tramp, a stripper, or a pro. Any girls who had disregarded the rules and sent a nude photo were summarily tossed out, which was probably over half of them, even though some were drop-dead gorgeous (Chase had looked the other way when big Pete pocketed a select handful of those). The top 100 had been confidentially investigated to eliminate the wannabes and pretenders and fakes. The top 25 prospects were then researched even deeper. Out of those, he had narrowed it down to three finalists.
Elizabeth Palmer was from Atlanta. She had a Masters in Education from Georgia Tech. 29 and a blue-eyed blonde, five-foot six, 120 pounds, she had been laid off from a public school teaching job due to financial cutbacks and was currently living in Fort Lauderdale tending bar. Elizabeth’s picture had been taken at what could have been a recent New Year’s party. She was standing in front of a glowing marble fireplace wearing a sparkly dark blue cocktail dress and her long hair was up. The look was sexy and quite sophisticated, making the perfect symmetry and proportion of her shapely figure nearly mesmerizing. Her eyes and smile were as captivating as her brief essay that stated how she confidently believed that she met all of his requirements and that she was willing to prove it. Chase was prepared to test that belief.
Meredith McGuire replied from Boston. She had earned a BA in bio-chemistry from BU. 32, a blue-eyed brunette, five-foot five, 115 pounds, she had worked for several medical research firms out of school, but had recently been fired for insubordination that was never proven. Currently she was working as a waitress at a Hooters in Warwick, Rhode Island. Emma sent a more casual picture of herself perched on the fantail railing of a wooden sailing ship in Boston Bay, dressed in a sporty light blue top and shorts. It must have been a cool day aboard ship due to the faintly detectable appearance of her nipples. But the effect was cute and sweet as well as sexy and her smile was simply dazzling. She was looking for challenges and adventure and was willing to go anywhere and do anything. Chase had thought that she would look even better perched on the railing of his own 75-foot Hatteras that he kept in Florida.
Finally, Natalie Nichols wrote from New York City. A business major from NYU, she was 28, a green-eyed brunette, five-foot three, 105 pounds, who had worked for over 6 years at a prestigious financial firm in NYC. A year ago she had lost her job as the result of a financial scandal and was currently unemployed and living with friends on the lower east side. Nicole sent a picture of herself in a sharply pressed skirted business suit, an appealing combination of femininity and elegance that caught Chase’s eye; the cut and taper of the suit were just daring enough to show that she liked testing limits. The arch of her back and the unmistakably proud thrust of her breasts signaled an alluring sexual confidence. Her essay stated simply, “My life is a disaster and I will do anything to escape it!” That had made him chuckle. There was something terribly appealing about such a beautiful and desperate woman.
Chase had hand written each of the finalists a letter of invitation to a personal interview for the following week, each on separate days. Included in the letter was a roundtrip first class plane ticket, a promise of $1000 for their time and effort, and a night’s stay at the Hotel Palomar. With great anticipation, Chase watched as big Pete left to pick them up at the airport, Elizabeth on Monday and then Meredith on Wednesday. Chase wasn’t surprised by their prompt appearance but he was a little surprised with how the first two interviews went. And disappointed too. They started off well enough with some conversation centered on current events, politics, art, and culture. Both young women were smart and well read and displayed a pleasing sense of humor. But when the conversation grew more personal and intimate, Elizabeth blushed and became flustered and ended up bolting from Chase’s office midway through the interview. Meredith seemed hesitant but reluctantly managed to complete the interview. Yet when Chase ran out of questions, he wondered whether she would really be willing to go anywhere and do anything.
And now it was Friday and big Pete had left an hour ago to pick up Natalie Nichols at the airport. Chase turned away from the bank of windows and sauntered back to his desk. Although he may have grown some doubts as to how he was going about looking for this special girl, he didn’t think that he was asking too much. He was almost fifty years old, looked ten or fifteen years younger, and had kept fit and healthy. The people he trusted often complimented his rugged good looks, remarking that the slight dash of grey at his temples made him look distinguished. He was smart and successful and had a lot of good years ahead of him. He didn’t want just a beautiful woman who would look great on his arm as they strolled into a restaurant or exclusive cocktail party. He wasn’t looking for just a girl who could disarm clients while sunbathing on his yacht as they sailed in the Gulf or the Mediterranean. He certainly didn’t need another woman who would take his name and then take him to the cleaners. Sure, he wanted a beautiful personable companion, but he also needed someone who would willingly feed his craziest kinks and eagerly satisfy his strongest sexual desires.
Promptly at one P.M. his secretary buzzed the intercom.
“Your one o’clock is here, Mr. Bradford,” sang Nicole’s voice over the speaker.
“Send her in,” Chase replied. “And make sure that Peter joins us too.”
He turned toward the door. “Two down and one to go,” Chase muttered out loud. “Let’s see if this one can go the distance.”
As the door opened, he pushed the folders to the side and looked up with hopeful anticipation.
Please join the lovely and talented Sinful_whispers as we weave a tale of personal and sexual discovery!
IC: Charles “Chase” Bradford pushed back in his plush leather chair from the massive mahogany desk littered with stacks of envelopes and resumes and photographs. Maybe this hadn’t been the easiest way to find his special personal assistant, but it had been a lot of fun. His rugged six-foot two-inch frame rose up from the chair and moved toward the wall of floor to ceiling windows. Gazing out from the 28th floor of the building that bore his family’s name presented him with a commanding view of the Dallas skyline. The influence of oil money was everywhere, in the modern architecture of the reflective glass and steel skyscrapers, the gleam of sleek and expensive cars and luxury trucks—the Dallas Cadillacs, and the comfortable and the plush neighborhoods that stretched almost endlessly toward the horizon. Chase felt the impact of oil money in his own life. His grandfather had earned a famous reputation as a notoriously successful wildcatter and then his father had parlayed that booming business into a powerful worldwide empire. After Chase had graduated from humble and modest Kilgore College, they had both insisted that he start at the bottom and work his way up from the grubby rigs in the east Texas dirt and the Saudi sand to the sweat and pressure of trading futures in New York and London before they would turn the keys to the boardroom over to him. It had made him appreciate the trappings of wealth and success that many of his friends and contemporaries often took for granted. It had made him work all the harder to expand the family’s power and influence.
He had it all, a huge house in the most exclusive suburb, vacation homes in Vail, Palm Springs, and Cobb’s Cove, a fleet of cars and a private jet to take him wherever he wished to go, a small but devoted personal staff, and more money than god to provide for it all. There had been a Mrs. Bradford—three of them to be exact. At first, they had seemed to be all he could ask for in a woman, beautiful and intelligent, sexy and charming. As girlfriends and fiancées, they had given willingly to his desires and needs. They had traveled and had great fun teasing and role-playing, and had made love with wild abandon. But it seemed that once they put a Mrs. in front of their names and his family name at the end, all of that changed. His sexual needs and desires, which they had previously relished and entertained warmly, were now sick and twisted and perverted. For some reason they somehow thought that they could change him, improve him, make him more worthy of their newfound station in life. It had taken wife Number One ten years to change from playmate to nag; Number Two had lasted two years; Number Three six months. That was all it took each one to forget who was responsible for their envious social standing and lofty economic position.
But Chase never gave a second thought about his divorces. He signed the papers, cut the fat checks, left without saying goodbye, and never, ever looked back. But it didn’t take long for him to recognize that something—someone—was missing in his life. After all that had happened, he realized that he didn’t really need or want a wife; what he wanted was—for lack of a better word—a playmate. Given his recent romantic history he knew what she wouldn’t be, but he also had a good idea of what she would look like and how she would act. Finding the right woman had been the challenge. He had dabbled with a hooker or two but that was simply cold and impersonal. Good friends provided innumerable setups and blind dates, but those hadn’t resulted in more than a forgettable weekend or two. He was determined that he wouldn’t lose again. It was actually big Pete, a long-time family friend and his personal chauffeur the man who knew Chase as well as anyone, who had suggested running a personal advertisement in select local newspapers around the country, even to the point of writing the ad for Chase.
Very Rich Single Man Looking for live-in Playmate. Must be attractive, intelligent, educated, and Most Important, WILLING! All expenses, wardrobe, car, travel and luxury accommodations will be furnished. Very generous salary and even more generous bonus for 1-year contract. Send clothed picture to search@oilman.com. Include 25 words or less why you qualify.
The whole idea seemed a little over-the-top but Chase couldn’t argue with the results. The email box they had set up was flooded with well over a thousand applications and he and his staff had great fun looking through them all. Chase had set up some rules. He was looking for a beautiful, intelligent, open-minded girl who was willing to try anything and do whatever he asked of her without question. He had thought deeply about what he wanted in a woman. What turned him on the most? Well, beauty, of course. He especially loved petite women with blue or green eyes, but hair color wasn’t as important so long as it was natural. Bottle blondes and fake redheads had little appeal to him. She also had to be smart and educated, not just in a book-learning sort of way, but educated by life, someone who had already learned a few life lessons. She had to have a good sense of humor, not too dark or sarcastic, and she had to be fun to be with. She would certainly have to know how to act in public when attending the many social and cultural functions to which Chase was constantly invited. But more than that, he was looking for a young woman with—how else could he put it?—unlimited potential, that certain kind of eagerness, a willingness to please him with no expectation of her own pleasure, although Chase Bradford had never failed to please a woman. Chase made it clear that he didn’t want a tramp, a stripper, or a pro. Any girls who had disregarded the rules and sent a nude photo were summarily tossed out, which was probably over half of them, even though some were drop-dead gorgeous (Chase had looked the other way when big Pete pocketed a select handful of those). The top 100 had been confidentially investigated to eliminate the wannabes and pretenders and fakes. The top 25 prospects were then researched even deeper. Out of those, he had narrowed it down to three finalists.
Elizabeth Palmer was from Atlanta. She had a Masters in Education from Georgia Tech. 29 and a blue-eyed blonde, five-foot six, 120 pounds, she had been laid off from a public school teaching job due to financial cutbacks and was currently living in Fort Lauderdale tending bar. Elizabeth’s picture had been taken at what could have been a recent New Year’s party. She was standing in front of a glowing marble fireplace wearing a sparkly dark blue cocktail dress and her long hair was up. The look was sexy and quite sophisticated, making the perfect symmetry and proportion of her shapely figure nearly mesmerizing. Her eyes and smile were as captivating as her brief essay that stated how she confidently believed that she met all of his requirements and that she was willing to prove it. Chase was prepared to test that belief.
Meredith McGuire replied from Boston. She had earned a BA in bio-chemistry from BU. 32, a blue-eyed brunette, five-foot five, 115 pounds, she had worked for several medical research firms out of school, but had recently been fired for insubordination that was never proven. Currently she was working as a waitress at a Hooters in Warwick, Rhode Island. Emma sent a more casual picture of herself perched on the fantail railing of a wooden sailing ship in Boston Bay, dressed in a sporty light blue top and shorts. It must have been a cool day aboard ship due to the faintly detectable appearance of her nipples. But the effect was cute and sweet as well as sexy and her smile was simply dazzling. She was looking for challenges and adventure and was willing to go anywhere and do anything. Chase had thought that she would look even better perched on the railing of his own 75-foot Hatteras that he kept in Florida.
Finally, Natalie Nichols wrote from New York City. A business major from NYU, she was 28, a green-eyed brunette, five-foot three, 105 pounds, who had worked for over 6 years at a prestigious financial firm in NYC. A year ago she had lost her job as the result of a financial scandal and was currently unemployed and living with friends on the lower east side. Nicole sent a picture of herself in a sharply pressed skirted business suit, an appealing combination of femininity and elegance that caught Chase’s eye; the cut and taper of the suit were just daring enough to show that she liked testing limits. The arch of her back and the unmistakably proud thrust of her breasts signaled an alluring sexual confidence. Her essay stated simply, “My life is a disaster and I will do anything to escape it!” That had made him chuckle. There was something terribly appealing about such a beautiful and desperate woman.
Chase had hand written each of the finalists a letter of invitation to a personal interview for the following week, each on separate days. Included in the letter was a roundtrip first class plane ticket, a promise of $1000 for their time and effort, and a night’s stay at the Hotel Palomar. With great anticipation, Chase watched as big Pete left to pick them up at the airport, Elizabeth on Monday and then Meredith on Wednesday. Chase wasn’t surprised by their prompt appearance but he was a little surprised with how the first two interviews went. And disappointed too. They started off well enough with some conversation centered on current events, politics, art, and culture. Both young women were smart and well read and displayed a pleasing sense of humor. But when the conversation grew more personal and intimate, Elizabeth blushed and became flustered and ended up bolting from Chase’s office midway through the interview. Meredith seemed hesitant but reluctantly managed to complete the interview. Yet when Chase ran out of questions, he wondered whether she would really be willing to go anywhere and do anything.
And now it was Friday and big Pete had left an hour ago to pick up Natalie Nichols at the airport. Chase turned away from the bank of windows and sauntered back to his desk. Although he may have grown some doubts as to how he was going about looking for this special girl, he didn’t think that he was asking too much. He was almost fifty years old, looked ten or fifteen years younger, and had kept fit and healthy. The people he trusted often complimented his rugged good looks, remarking that the slight dash of grey at his temples made him look distinguished. He was smart and successful and had a lot of good years ahead of him. He didn’t want just a beautiful woman who would look great on his arm as they strolled into a restaurant or exclusive cocktail party. He wasn’t looking for just a girl who could disarm clients while sunbathing on his yacht as they sailed in the Gulf or the Mediterranean. He certainly didn’t need another woman who would take his name and then take him to the cleaners. Sure, he wanted a beautiful personable companion, but he also needed someone who would willingly feed his craziest kinks and eagerly satisfy his strongest sexual desires.
Promptly at one P.M. his secretary buzzed the intercom.
“Your one o’clock is here, Mr. Bradford,” sang Nicole’s voice over the speaker.
“Send her in,” Chase replied. “And make sure that Peter joins us too.”
He turned toward the door. “Two down and one to go,” Chase muttered out loud. “Let’s see if this one can go the distance.”
As the door opened, he pushed the folders to the side and looked up with hopeful anticipation.
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