The Billionaire's Arrangement

My name is Alden Anthis. I’m 21 years old. And yes, you’re right; I’m half Greek, half American. I just graduated from the College of Business, majoring in accounting, from the University of Wyoming. I’m good at crunching numbers, so I’m sure that working in this profession would be a work and a pleasure for me. I’m presently looking for a job. It has been two weeks of exhausting,

non-stop interviews and still - there seemed to be no hope for me.

There was one last address on my list of potential employers, an accounting firm in the downtown area, Swift Accounting, and I was not too excited about it. But what the heck, since it was the last, I decided to give it a try nonetheless.

I was surprised to find a posh office that depicted elegance and luxury. “May I help you, sir?” The gloomy-looking receptionist inquired.

My spirits sank and my initial gladness dissipated into thin air. I felt like backing out. If this was a prelude to what the boss was like, then it would surely be hell for me.

“Err…” I hesitated, wanting to bolt for the door.

“Oh, another applicant?” A lovely, blonde-haired woman appeared in the doorway to the CEO’s office.

I was captivated by her genuine smile from her heart-shaped lips that reached to her iridescent, brown eyes. Her slinky figure had curves at the most appropriate places; her long slender legs were displayed seductively through the side slits of her purple, tight velvety dress. It was there for all to see. My first thought was:

‘An angel descended from heaven, and she’s causing a storm in my pants.’ “Aren’t you going to come in?” she beckoned to me.

“Huh?” I awoke from my momentary stupor. “You’re an applicant, right?”

“Yes . . . ma’am,” I followed her inside the room.

The expansive room was bare, except for a desk and chair in the middle. It was a sharp contrast to the classy receiving room. The walls were a dirty white and the floor was gleaming clean but it had seen better days.

“Sit, sit. My, you’re such a cute little thing,” her eyes surveyed me from top to bottom. “I’m Katy Swift. I’m the CEO of Swift Accounting.”

I sat feeling uncomfortable. Was she flirting with me? She shuffled my papers in her hands and studied me under veiled eyes. How come she was personally interviewing applicants?

“Hmmm, impressive! No experience though, in short, you’re a novice.”

“If you’ll give me this chance, then I’ll gain experience and be an asset to your company,” I boldly stated, desperate to get the job because I had nowhere left to go.

“So, how can you be an asset to our company?” She challenged me.

“I’ll provide the best and most appropriate financial guidance for the company’s clients.”

“Are you willing to work extra hours when needed?” She wanted to know; her flawlessly penciled eyebrows were raised in anticipation of my answer.

“Yes, of course, Ma’am.”

“Well then, report to the HRD office for orientation tomorrow at 8 AM,” she flipped my resume and wrote something on its backside.

I was overjoyed. Yay! I had finally landed a job.

Before 8 AM, I was dressed to the nines, wanting to impress my employer on my first day at work: long-sleeved light purple Polo topped with a gray suit. I’m not narcissistic, but looking at myself in the mirror, I had to admit that I looked dashing with my deep-set blue eyes, perfectly arched nose, and wide, smiling lips. My 6-foot frame and muscular, sturdy body carried the suit well. Who would ever guess that I was a bumbling rookie, who had no self-confidence and faith in himself?

Right after the brief orientation, we were given our assignments. I was one of the newly initiated 14 employees. There was only one female, a severe-looking, petite woman with black eyes hidden behind eyeglasses, added to t - ugly lips that never smiled.

Among the males, I stood out with my height and body build. I was the winner if it was a contest about physical attributes. But, sadly, I was the one with the least self-confidence.

I was assigned to the Tax Accounting group, which would be a breeze for me. I excelled in tax accounting in college and due to this my self-confidence went up a notch.

We were told to observe the first day, so all I did was sit and take note of the flow of work. The 8 hours went by in a flash, and before I knew it, office hours were done. Everyone was preparing to go home.

“Mr. Anthis,” a voice purred from behind me. “Yes?” I turned and came face to face with the CEO. “Can you please stay for a few minutes?”

The fragrance of her perfume wafted towards me cloaking the air with sweetness. I felt dizzy. She touched my forearm and whispered, “Report to my room,” her warm, fresh breath hot on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. Why was she whispering?

“Yes . . . Ma’am,” I murmured, my heart feeling the thunder of a thousand hooves. I trembled as anxiety and excitement overcame me. Perhaps . . . ?

I never had time for women in college and I was too shy, so I had remained a virgin. I didn’t know how to determine if a woman was flirting or not; it was a new experience for me.

I entered the room with faltering steps, unsure of what to expect. She was reclining on the sofa, her voluptuous figure showing off her assets. I swallowed hard and stared, amazed, at the displayed Venus before me.

She had discarded her coat and the thin material of her dress, outlining her succulent breasts and the v-shape of her pubis. My schlong quivered and started to become rigid.

“Come, come, sit here,” she indicated the chair in front of her.

Hesitantly, I walked towards her, my knees wobbling and my legs turned weak. “Don’t be shy,” she purred like a contented kitten.

I sat on the chair, fidgeting on its edge, fiddling with my fingers.

“I have a personal favor to ask if you don’t mind,” she said, her eyes pleading. “Don’t worry; you’ll get paid – double - for overtime work.”

My spirits perked up at the mention of money. “Yes, I’m willing to do your bidding,” I replied.

“I have muscle cramps. Can you massage my legs, please?” she directed me. “I’m not very good at massage,” I intoned, surprised at her request.

“I’ll teach you how,” she uttered, her voice barely audible. “Come,” she signaled with her fingers, patting the space beside her.

She directed my hands to her calves and said: “Knead this area gently. Just use your thumb to loosen the area.”