Giving Herself to Charity
The offices were quiet as the editorial team entered for their weekly meeting. One by one the staff pulled out their chairs and sat down, unpacking their laptops as they did so.
It was early Monday morning and the business world was just awakening from it’s weekend slumber. As was their ritual, the senior staff at the Business Daily newspaper were looking to maintain their place at the top table of journalism with this meeting. Their contacts were the best serious journalism could buy and the dedication of their staff was renowned. Unusually, the politics of the paper were liberal and it didn’t bow to the corporate dollar. As they decided priorities for the week ahead, there was one name on everyone’s lips.
“Rick Williams. I think we’re agreed on this one,” said Diane Grier the editor-in-chief. She looked around the table at her colleagues. There was a silence that indicated agreement. Sound judgment dictated that she was speaking the truth. How could the paper turn down this kind of opportunity? The billionaire recluse Rick Williams had finally accepted repeated requests for an interview.
Rick was still a relatively young man and yet had already retired from the business world to manage his substantial charitable donations. He was known as a ‘good guy’ and nobody had a bad word to say about him. There were questions, sure, about how he had seamlessly and seemingly invisibly created his successful businesses but everybody that met him came away unable to doubt his integrity and wish to do his best for the world. He had an air of untouchability that nothing seemed to shake.
Diane had been looking for an interview ever since she had been promoted a couple of years ago. What worked at her was that every interviewer that had ever met David came back with saccharine reports of his good works and ineffable charm. She was determined that the serious reputation of her paper would be further established by an objective and possibly even critical feature about this man. Surely he could not be as perfect as it seemed? She knew enough about the business world to be sure that nothing was as it seemed and the ‘big men’ in charge of things were often all too human.
“Liz Newson would be my choice for the job,” said Paul Chambers, the Night Editor. “She deserves the chance. She did a good piece for me on the Scarpetta share scandal.”
“I would say so,” agreed Diane. “She won’t take any corporate airbrushing. I want to make the most of this opportunity. I want a real story, not the usual crap.” One or two of her colleagues looked affronted. They could not get used to Diane’s style. The old-school line of business journalism was not her thing and she relished the opportunity her position offered to ruffle feathers.
The meeting continued for a further hour but the most interesting item on the agenda was already done. Diane was thinking ahead to the opportunity to brief her star journalist.
At that moment, Liz Newson was cursing the fact that Monday morning existed. She had been late to rise and now couldn’t find her work skirt. She had been up late finishing her piece on emerging markets and was finding the new week a bit of a challenge. She bent down to lift stray bits of clothing in her cupboard in the search for her errant skirt. As her legs stretched, her nightie was pulled up to show tight pink panties hugging her rounded ass. Not that anybody had seen her ass since college. Life had just been too full. Working 14 hours a day was an ambition it itself and Liz had pushed relationships to the edge of her life. The kind of relationships she had cultivated since joining the Business Daily newspaper 18 months previously had been strictly, well, business. Sure, she flirted, but always with an aim. She would use her looks and suppressed sensuality to tease out a story but considered this tactic part of her professional arsenal.
Men may have desired her body but they were also scared of her sharp tongue. Her obvious drive and single-mindedness seemed to contradict her sweet oval face, overflowing brown eyes and packed body but no man on the staff had even got close to finding out if this was truly so.
Liz finally found her skirt and white shirt to match. She was pulling her long straight black hair into a ponytail when her mobile rang.
“Hello. Liz,” said Diane abruptly.
“Good morning Miss Grier,” said Liz, wondering what her boss would want.
“I have a good one for you this morning. We have finally fixed up the interview with Rick Williams. Tomorrow morning. 11 o’clock.”
Liz almost dropped the phone. ‘Whoa!’ she thought. ‘Here is a story.’
While Liz was considering what this would do for her career, Diane continued “I want you to get the dirt. We both know that this guy can’t be perfect.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Grier, you know my work. I’m the best there is.”
“That’s why I’m giving you the gig. Get in touch with the office and Amanda will give you details of your meeting. See you later,” said Diane as she hung up.
Liz’s mind was racing. She knew it is not enough to ask questions of successful men. They can bat those away all day. Where she had made her mark with the Business Daily was by charming her interviewees all the while maintaining professional distance. A winning combination. The men would be flattered into giving more away than planned as they attempted to break through to her guarded feminine sensuality.
She began considering her wardrobe for the next day. She pulled a another white shirt, knee-length black skirt and black high heels out and put them aside. After breakfast she sat down, logged on and dug into Google for a couple of hours catching up on her knowledge of Rick Williams. She would be prepared.
The next day she stood at the front intercom of the Williams Foundation, brushing stray hairs away from her face. She stood confidently, practising her smile. Her breasts stood proud in the tight white business shirt and the curve of her calves led easily to the bottom of her tight skirt. Her pale skin contrasting her dark Latin looks, her bright eyes showing her intelligence.
“Liz Newson. From Business Daily to see Mr Williams,” she announced abruptly.
“Ah, yes, come in,” said a female voice as the doors opened.
Liz walked into a marble-floored entrance area that screamed of corporate success and efficiency. There were high ceilings and expansive spiral staircases.
‘Hmm, so much for charity’, thought Liz smugly. Her prejudices were already being proven.
The few people she saw passing through the entrance area were all attractive, she noticed. Both the men and women she saw were immaculately groomed and well-dressed. They all walked purposefully towards one meeting or another.
The reception desk in the centre of the room was tastefully decorated with flowers and an especially attractive young man stood up ready to greet her and give her a visitors pass.
“Welcome to the Williams Foundation” he said with a smile. Mr William’s PA will be out in a moment to accompany you to your meeting.”
The man gave her a warm smile, looked her up and down and handed her a badge. Liz was not best pleased by the overt nature of his attention.
Nonetheless, while she waited , Liz attempted to make conversation with her companion. All she could glean from the receptionist, aside from his oversexed mind, was that he seemed to utterly believe in the work of the Foundation.
‘And why not’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s not as if charitable work is a bad thing in itself. It’s just that most people don’t ask where the money has come from.’ Liz had surprisingly found little to go on in her Internet researches. Rather than put her off, this fact had spurred her on to make even more of the interview with Rick Williams. She knew that to become a billionaire in the pharmaceutical business had to take a ruthlessness that ‘Saint Rick’ had always denied but she was sure he must possess.
After a few minutes, his PA came to meet her. A spectacular young woman, even Liz had to acknowledge. Her olive Asian features were sculpted and smooth and her dark eyes were warm with natural sensuality.
“Welcome to the Williams Foundation. My name is Carmen,” her deep voice flowed. “Please, follow me.”
As they walked through up a staircase and through airy corridors, Liz sensed that her companion was undressing her even as they strolled along. Suddenly, she saw herself naked and oiled as Carmen’s hands pressed onto her back....
With a shake of her head she returned to her place alongside Carmen. ‘Strange,’ she thought. ‘Where did that come from? She was beginning to feel disconcerted about this place. There was a sly sensuality in the air—she was aware of her own body in it’s subtleness and physical nature. Her breasts felt slightly tight in her shirt and her hips felt wide and sexy as they moved in her black skirt. It was a strange feeling, almost like the first day she had woken up as teen and seen the world as a sexual being.
Liz continued walking alongside her beautiful companion, making small talk and trying to rationalise her feelings . She attempted to ignore her growing need to be admired as a woman. Her skin was tingling and, well, she felt sexy.
Carmen finally pushed through a door and Liz entered a large meeting room. Half a dozen people looked up , obviously in the middle of a meeting. The last to look was Rick Williams. Liz recognised him immediately but he hardly glanced at her before turning back to the meeting. His broad back to her, she considered his hospitality distinctly lacking. He seemed to almost be deliberately ignoring her.
‘On the contrary’, thought Rick Williams. In a moment he had seen Liz and her mind from the inside. Read her motivations and desires. What she needed to make her complete. It was all so easy. Adolescence had activated in Rick a kind of advanced empathy with women and charisma to match. It went beyond scientific reason, although it had never been tested by any scientist. Rick had kept it to himself and after an early period of feverishly exploiting his ‘powers’, he had settled down to a more conventional life, content to use his abilities to create his fortune. Those few women that had amused him for more than a moment had eventually developed some of his abilities and their seductive powers had been most useful in his business.
For all that, he knew that he wasn’t a bad person. He genuinely liked women and his charitable work was genuine. It was just that he sometimes wanted to play, he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he was giving his women what they had always secretly wanted...
Liz was just the type he loved working on. He could see things in her that nobody else had seen – her weaknesses, her preferences. Her 25″ waist and 34D breasts were the garnish to make the seduction of her mind all the more pleasurable.
Liz was introduced to the board of the Foundation. They all greeted her with friendliness. She sat down as Rick wrapped up the meeting. The business of the day was clearly the dispensation of funds and Rick’s personality obviously dominated. His smile creased his face very attractively and his voice had an undercurrent of melody that invited others to listen. Even with her cynical journalist head, Liz could see how such a character would be able to seal deals and build a business. He had ‘it’ and obviously was in charge of the room.
However, when the others in the room left at the end of the meeting, leaving her alone with her interviewee, it seemed as if somebody had switched the light off. His body language suddenly became dismissive and impatient.
“Well Miss Newson. I believe that you wish to talk to me,” he said coolly.
“Yes, didn’t you request the interview?” said Liz, rather surprised at both his manner and his words.
“I leave the organising to others. However, come through to my office and we can begin.”
‘Well,’ thought Liz. ‘So much for his charm.’ She somehow resented the fact that she was not deemed worthy of his attention. It made her both more determined to get the ‘scoop’ and also to break through his coldness. Why should she be treated so differently?
When they entered his large office, Rick gestured for Liz to sit down in a comfortable-looking red leather chair. He sat opposite her, his peppery-grey hair glinting in the sun shining through the window, offsetting his youthful angular face.
“Ask away,” he said in a bored tone of voice. He seemed completely disinterested in her. There seemed almost to be undertones of aggression below the surface.
Liz lent forward, stroked down her skirt seemingly unconsciously, and started with her most humble voice. “Well, Mr Williams. Thank you for asking me to come along. I would like to know a little bit about your battles to grow your business in the early years. What would you say were the personal attributes that helped you at the beginning?” She expected him to lighten up a little when given the opportunity to talk about himself but it didn’t seem to work.
“Well, not sure there is much to say. Hard work and of course, luck,” he said blandly. This kind of answer continued for a few minutes and Liz grew increasingly frustrated with her interviewee. She did not understand how every profile she had trawled through had been dominated by the ease with which this man carried himself and his overwhelming charm, especially with the ladies.
For one thing, Liz knew what her looks could do, and going by his reaction to her he didn’t seem to have a sexual bone in his body. After the slightly overheated atmosphere in the rest if the building, this was oddly disturbing. She had stretched her legs so that her skirt rode up, testing for a reaction.
Nothing. Rick continued to answer her questions without his grey eyes even registering her movement.
‘Obviously a real cold fish,’ she thought. ‘A shame, because he really is very handsome when he smiles.’
Even when she stretched behind her to turn off her digital recorder during a break in the interview, giving him a view of her breast stretched tight against her shirt, he did not crack.
She had not forgotten her journalistic task and continued to probe, looking for a misplaced word, especially when discussing his business dealings with various corrupt African regimes. However, there was no way through. Rick would not be drawn and Liz found that her main weapon, that of gentle flirtation and flattery, was no way in.
After some time, Carmen knocked and came into the office. Unaccountably, she had changed into a short red skirt and matching heels.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said, “but you may need to cut the interview short. The Head of UNICEF is on the phone and requests your attention.” With that she gave Rick a smouldering look and licked her lips, most inappropriately, thought Liz. Once again she was swamped by a surprising image, this time, of Carmen moaning on all fours as Rick fucked her hard.
As Rick turned to Carmen, his face lit up. He was paying her his utter attention.
“Thank you Carmen. Now be a good girl, won’t you, and show Miss Newson out.”
Carmen hastened to obey and Liz considered it strange that such a beautiful and self-possessed woman was like a little puppy, eager to please him.
With his attention focussed on Carmen, something in the room had warmed up and Liz found herself undoing the top two buttons of her shirt in an effort to cool herself. Besides, she found herself needing a little attention for herself. Her nipples had hardened and a flush had broken out across the top of her chest. For some reason she wanted the eyes of Rick on her body. The hard-bitten journalist was slipping, giving way to some kind of a jealous schoolgirl.
But it was too late. Carmen had taken her arm and was leading her out of the office. Her legs had gone weak and she could hardly stand.
“No, wait! Rick, I would love to finish the interview at another time. Please call me.”
He took her card and nodded, his face blank again, seemingly hardly noticing her.
Carmen led the stumbling Liz out of the office and Liz could not help feeling the side of Carmen’s teardrop breasts press against her arm as they walked.
As she left the building, Liz was frustrated and fed up. She realised that she had blown it. And she was feeling horny as hell. The two did not sit well together and she spent a miserable evening drowning her regrets and ignoring her ringing phone. She knew it would be Diane calling about the interview and she was now embarrassed by her unexpected arousal.
‘I would love to have another chance at Rick Williams’, she thought to herself, not expecting she would ever get another opportunity..
‘I’m looking forward to my next chance at Liz Newson,’ thought Rick to himself. He could virtually feel her nipples rolling between fingers and her moans of acquiescence as he forced her to the floor. She had the intoxicating mix of personal reserve and sensuality in need of just a little prompt to bring her down to the level of her animal desires that he looked for...
Liz found the next few days difficult. She had called in to see Diane and had explained that she was arranging a second interview with Rick. Diane had raised an eyebrow and enquired if there were good prospects for the article. Liz had bluffed while praying that she would get a chance to complete the job. She was puzzled that she had finished the interview desperately wanting his attention. This was new – in all her previous dealings with men, her intelligence and self-possession had ensured her superiority. She resolved that given the chance, things would be different next time.
As the days passed her strange encounter in the Foundation began to seem increasingly unreal and she regained her sense of purpose. She decided, given the chance, to continue her African line of enquiry and not let go. Eventually she got impatient and called. The receptionist was quite polite, making it clear that Rick Williams was a very busy man and could not possibly oblige every request for an interview.
“I need Mr Williams to complete an interview that he started earlier this week. I won’t take up much of his time. Please. I need to see him.”
“Well, I’ll pass your request on but please don’t expect to much. Goodbye Miss Newson.”
Another week and several failed phone calls later and Liz was finding it difficult to delay Diane much longer. She began to work on her unsatisfactory interview, just to get it into print.
Late one afternoon the following week, Liz took the call that she had prayed for. However, Rick’s voice was the same monotone that she remembered.
“Liz Newson? If you could be here in an hour I will oblige your request to continue our interview.”
“Oh,”said Liz, momentarily taken off guard. “I will certainly be along just as soon as I can. Thank you Mr Williams.”
Liz decided to throw on a white low-cut t-shirt that revealed more of her deep cleavage than was usual. She reassured herself that her utter professionalism was protected by the knee-length black skirt and sensible shoes that she was wearing.
She rushed to the Foundation as quickly as she could, rehearsing her questions, intent on getting more from this opportunity than she had managed before. Just as she was getting out of her car, an impulse led her to reaching onto the back seat and fishing out her single pair of high heels. As she slipped them on, she felt immediately more powerful. ‘Let’s just see Rick Williams ignore me know,’ she thought.
Once again Liz was led to the office that she had met Rick the previous week. And once again, Carmen was, friendly, not to say over-familiar. On meeting Liz she held her hand a little longer than needed and Liz felt her red nails softly stroking the palm of her hand. A shiver ran through her body and her mind flashed once again with images of Carmen caressing her body before the contact was broken. Carmen then chatted away merrily as Liz attempted to restore her poise ready for her meeting with Rick.
In walked Liz Newson. Rick watched her on her heels and smiled to himself. The click of her shoes was business-like and purposeful. She had lost none of the self-possession that had initially so interested him. However, he knew, like so many women of beauty, she was used to being noticed and adored—and relished the fact, playing it hard for her own gain. It was a short step from relishing attention to physically needing it and Rick was going to give her just that nudge...
Rick hardly looked up from his paperwork.
“Good afternoon once again, Miss Newson. Welcome back.”
“Hello again, Mr Williams,” said Liz brightly. “Thank you for inviting me back.”
As they began, Rick once again seemed only to be half-engaged in their conversation. His grey eyes only occasionally looked up in her direction and his answers to her questions were bland. When she attempted to move into more contentious territory he didn’t seem moved and continued to bat away the questions calmly but without revealing a thing.
Not only was Liz getting frustrated by her lack of success, she was offended by his whole approach to her. Was there something wrong with her? She felt challenged to prove her worth to him. He would notice her. She pressed her arms against her body as she asked a further question and ensured that her breasts were gathered together until they were almost spilling out of her top. She began to felt warm and sexy. ‘I’m worth more than this,’ she told herself.
Rick continued talking, not taking in the view he was being offered. Liz considered her next step and tried to look at herself through male eyes. She would find this man’s weakness. ‘What is his thing? Is he a leg man? What?’ Liz pouted and licked her lips. The challenge of getting his attention was getting to her and she was beginning to drift and forget the purpose of her original interview.
“Ahem, your next question, Miss Newson?”
Liz was startled to find his smooth voice made her suddenly sticky. ‘He’s talking to me!’ She felt like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Oh, um, yes. Tell me about what kind of woman you go for...” she breathed, sliding down until her skirt rode up to the top of her ivory thighs.
Rick looked amused. “Is that really the kind of question that a serious business reporter should be asking?”
Through her cloudy, befuddled mind, Liz decided it was time to turn off her recorder. She was determined to take the interview into ‘off-limits’ areas and didn’t really want it taken down.
“Don’t turn it off. Pass me the recorder,” said Rick commandingly. Liz nearly melted, reached out and silently gave him the device.
“Thank you. I will keep this on for the rest of the interview. We wouldn’t want it wasted, now would we? Now where were we?” Rick smiled warmly fleetingly then his face became a mask of seriousness once more.
“Oh.” Liz attempted to focus her mind. She still sat low in her chair, her thighs glowing in the light of the room and her cheeks flushed prettily. Her heavy breasts moving with her excited breathing, she was a woman in heat. ‘Why did he take the recorder?’ she thought. As much as she wanted to raise the temperature with some sexy questions, she knew she now had to be careful.
However, her voice still purred with desire as she asked “Rick, do you have any opinions about the role of the World Bank in the reconstruction of war-ruined economies?”
The banal Rick was back. “Well, Liz, obviously international finance has a role to play but so do charitable organisations. I believe in a mixed approach to these problems – we should all do what we can.”
As he spoke, Liz played with her hair. ‘Why had he suddenly become so boring once again? Where was that commanding voice?’ Her long pony tail was beginning to annoy her. It seemed too severe. She reached behind her head and untied her hair. As she did do, she leant forward again so that her breasts almost spilled out of her top. The edge of her black bra was showing as she shook her head, allowing her long black hair to fall over her neck. Hot and bothered, she felt ready for anything. She decided she needed to make a change or two. When he finished answering her question she asked “Rick, where is the women’s room? I need to take a quick break.”
“Sure. Two doors down on the left.”
Liz left the room, wriggling her hips as she went.
Rick smiled to himself. He was having a good time. With the ability to choose any woman in the world, he had high standards of beauty and this woman really was perfect. Given her glamour he was also impressed that she had managed to be taken seriously in her profession. A great combination. As she walked back into the room, braless and with her nipples showing as proud bumps in her t-shirt he sat back to enjoy the show.
Liz was pleased with herself. She knew she looked as hot as she had ever done. She had stripped off her bra and had applied rich red lipstick to her mouth and, in a moment of inspiration, had also dabbed her nipples with rouge. She was practically shaking with desire and aching to be noticed by Rick. As she sat down she moved her chair a few inches nearer his. She fixed her brown eyes on his , loosened a heel and began to run her foot against his leg. She knew that she was crossing every professional boundary but also knew she had to get to this man, to break his reserve.
In a suddenly sharp tone, Rick asked “Miss Newson, what are you doing?”
The authority in his voice sent shockwaves through Liz. “Um, I...”
“And your nipples are showing! What is wrong with you?!?”
Liz panicked as she remembered that the conversation was being recorded and attempted to reach behind Rick to turn the machine off. He grabbed her arm and her body collapsed with desire. She felt his firm hand on her thin wrist and fell onto her knees.
“How dare you come here looking like that! I thought you were a serious journalist!” thundered Rick.
“I am, I mean,” stuttered Liz. She didn’t feel like a serious journalist, here on her knees before a man that she should be treating with suspicion and distrust. She felt conflicted and attempted to stand up and move away, to get away.
“Elizabeth, I want you to stay where you are. What makes you think that you are a serious journalist? Look at yourself. Your tits are almost hanging out.”
Liz was shocked and excited by his language and tone. He sounded so different. ‘This is the man behind the mask. Just what I was looking for,’ she gasped to herself. She was secretly thrilled and hanged her head down. She now knew she had his attention.
“Don’t you like my tits?” she asked girlishly. “Don’t you want to play with them?”
Rick sighed. “Liz, you really are being very naughty. Coming in here like a slut and saying things like that. How dare you.”
Even as he said this he was lowering the arms of her t-shirt so that her white breasts and hard nipples were gradually revealed. Liz could not believe that this powerful man was actually touching her, obviously wanted to look at her. She desperately pushed out her chest, hoping for praise. Instead he gently began to slap the side of her breasts. They wobbled. His hands were warm and alternated each slap with a stroke that gently touched her nipples and sent shocks all the way through her.
As he slapped he continued “Now, Miss Newson, top journalist, do you hear me? Do you want me to fuck you?”
She mutely nodded, concentrating on the feelings going through her body. Her legs twitched when he said ‘fuck’ and she simply wanted to lie on her back and open her legs for him.
“How much?”
Feelings of love washed over her. This man...she realised he was all she had ever wanted. He knew how to handle her. To treat her hard. Her career seemed like an illusion that had been emptily filling her life until this moment.
Her fingers were numb and shook as they reached up to undo the zip on his trousers. Her full red lips were almost drooling as she felt Rick’s hard cock through his clothes. Her panties were sodden as he reached down and bunched her skirt around her waist. She pulled his cock free and frantically grabbed it, desperate to milk it with her slim fingers.
“Stop.”
Liz looked up, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat covered her whole body. Her eyes were dark and pleading.
“Please, Mr Williams. Let me suck you. Please.”
Liz held his cock in her hands, stroking him as he considered his next move. He had very little control left, knew that this absolute beauty was his. He had planned to play with her for longer but couldn’t hold on. He had not known quite how her touch would thrill him, how her breasts would stand up and beg to be played with, how impatient she would make him.
“Not now. Maybe later if you are good.”
She pouted once again.
“No, for now, get on your back. Now.”
With an excited squeal Liz did as she was told. Rick then reached up and rolled her soaking panties down her long legs. Liz desperately lifted her hips to assist him, squirming to feel his feathery touch on her thighs. ‘This good, great man. He’s actually going to fuck me,’ she thought with a sense of utter privilege. ‘How lucky I am.’
Her recorder continued to run as Rick Williams fucked her on the floor. Liz moaned and gasped as he pushed her down and fucked her. Her entreaties to be taken, her begging him to cum inside her could be heard by Rick later as he played it back to himself. The later moments were obscured by her desperate cries as she felt him stretch her, push deep and come in her unprotected womb.
This was followed by the the sound of Liz purring, “Mr Williams, what can I do for you next?”
Rick heard himself reply “Well, we shall see. With your skills perhaps you could become part of my Communications Team...” “Could I, Mr Williams, could I? Oh thank you” and the recording ended with the moist sound of tongue on cock as she attempted to show her gratitude.
Rick Williams turned off the recorder, sat back in his chair and began to consider Liz Newson’s training schedule. He was already looking forward to the next few weeks...