Chapter One

 

So... I'm not that great a skier. I told Chad that right at the start, when we met at the club, when he invited me to come up to his chalet and do some skiing.

"Hey, it's not hard, and I'll show you."

So what the fuck. Why not? Hey, who had a 'chalet'? I'd never even seen one. I figured he meant cabin. But no. Fuck me, he meant a huge chalet, like one of those ones with massive windows looking out at the snow, and a high peaked roof. I should have figured when I saw his car was a BMW.

Not that there's not a lot of BMWs around Bakersfield. That's where I live. It's a fair-sized city, but nowhere near the ocean, and about two and a half hours north of LA.

Chad was hot-looking, smooth, cocky, and had a lithe, athletic body. Add rich to that and there wasn't a lot I wasn't willing to do.

As to why he invited me, a girl he'd only met on the dance floor. Well, hey, I might not be rich and smooth but I'm really good-looking myself. I was wearing this short, tight, midriff-baring tank top which showed a lot of cleavage, and a low-riding skirt which showed a lot of thigh.

I mean, when you go clubbing without a guy you need some bait, right? You need to look hot. I work in an office as a junior clerk, and believe me I don't wear anything sexy there. But when I let my hair down (literally) and show off my body I don't have trouble getting offers.

Most of them are just to fuck me, though. Offering to take me to a chalet for skiing is not something I get a lot of.

And it worked out fairly well for the first day. Chad enjoyed showing me how to ski, the way guys do, you know, playing the expert. And in bed that night he was okay, if a little drunk. I mean, he didn't last all that long, but he was clean and had a nice body and at least made the effort. A lot of guys don't.

And then the next morning I hurt my ankle trying to ski.

So where was Chad now? Not here. He'd shrugged and gone out to play with the other rich people who owned chalets. There was a pile of them around us the first day, so I was sure he was busy showing off to some blonde ski bunny now.

And here I was left alone in the chalet. Yeah, it was a nice place with great views, but I hadn't come up here to watch TV and surf the internet. I resented it that he'd been so quick to dump me and go play. But I was resigned to the fact all he wanted me for was sex. He didn't need me to go skiing with him to get that.

I had settled in the bedroom rather than downstairs. The bed was huge and comfortable, and I could prop my foot up easier. The view from the second-floor window was even better than from the first floor - and the window was right next to the bed. And there was a flat-screen in a kind of chest at the foot of the bed that rose up at the push of a button so I could watch TV.

So why go downstairs?

Maybe when he came back - probably trailing his friends, I'd put on some clothes and hop down the stairs to join them. Though I'd felt kind of out of place the first day, them all being rich. They chatted about the colleges they went to, and the places in Europe and Asia and Africa they'd visited, and the great restaurants in New York and Los Angeles I didn't know.

I've never really gone anywhere. My parents aren't rich, like theirs. I grew up in an apartment, a rented apartment. Money was hard to come by. We sure didn't use it going on vacations to Europe.

Anyway, I was sitting there in my underwear watching a movie, with a laptop open beside me surfing the internet, when Chad got back. Or so I assumed. I checked my look, and tossed the covers aside more. I was wearing a very small purple thong with thin strings angling up across the hips, and a tank top without a bra. The tank top was thin and almost but not quite see-through. It didn't hide the size or shape of my breasts.

There was a brief knock at the door, which surprised me, because Chad hadn't struck me as overly considerate, to be honest, and then it opened and a man who wasn't Chad stood there. In fact, it was a man a lot older than Chad but clearly related to him. They both had strong jaws. This man's face was more squarish than Chad's, though. He had broader shoulders and was over twice his age.

He looked at me in surprise, but not a lot, and then he looked at me. You know. The way men look at girls in lingerie.

I looked back in surprise, then gasped and whipped the sheets over myself as he wandered into the room.

"So," he said. "Who would you be?"

"I-I-I'm Brooklyn!" I gulped, my voice squeaking a bit.

My face was hot and red.

"And why, Brooklyn, are you laying in my bed?"

I could feel my jaw drop.

"Uh... am I?"

"Yes? Unless you're a present from the gods or something?"

I gulped and tried to sit up.

"I came with Chad!" I exclaimed. "I thought this was his room!"

He snorted.

"This is the master bedroom. Chad is not even master of himself. And where is he anyway? What kind of a fool son have I raised that he'd wander off and leave someone that looks like you alone in his bed half-naked?"

I flushed anew but felt a little glow of ego satisfaction. I mean, hey, it was a pretty nice compliment. And he was an old guy, but pretty good looking, in good shape, and of course, rich.

"He went skiing," I said. "I hurt my ankle so I couldn't go."

"Hurt your ankle how?"

"Uhm, skiing?"

He gave me a stern look. "Has anyone looked at it?"

"Oh, I just twisted it a bit. It's ... fine!"

I gasped as he whipped back the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed! He ignored me, though, looking at my ankle instead, then reached out and slid a very large, warm hand down to gently feel along it.

"It's only a little swollen!" I gulped, squeaking again, and cursing myself silently for it.

I was trying to pull the top of the covers over the top part of my body even though he was ignoring it. That, of course, pulled the lower part, too, and he impatiently batted it back.

"Stop being silly," he said calmly. "I've seen what you've got already and what you've got is certainly nothing to be embarrassed about."

I blushed, but he continued to stroke my ankle with his fingers and ignore the rest of me.

I liked what he said, though, and the offhand way he said it. Like, it was a compliment but he hadn't even meant it as one. You know what I mean? Like he was just stating a fact.

"It's not too bad," he said. "You should have put something cold on it, though. How long ago did you twist it?"

"Uhm, yesterday afternoon," I gulped.

"More than twenty-four hours, then. Cold probably won't help a lot."

He turned and looked at me, my face, that is, not the rest of me.

"Just stay off it as much as you can for a few days."

"Uh, I thought I might be able to ski tomorrow," I gulped.

"No, not a chance. You'd risk hurting it worse."

He let his eyes slide lower, with that calm look on his face which still showed he appreciated the view. It was... odd. It wasn't the usual way guys looked at me. I mean, usually it was either furtive or ogling, with nothing in between. This was just a calm look at what I had.

That made me flush on the inside. I mean, he was a good-looking guy and had this deep voice that did strange things in my chest.

"So, Brooklyn, how long have you known my son?" he asked.

"Uhm, well, not long," I said. "I mean, to be honest, we just met the other day at a club."

"I see. And how's that going?"

I shrugged helplessly, very self-conscious under his gaze but not daring to pull the covers over myself again.

"You haven't made a judgment on a guy who brings you up here then abandons you when you hurt your ankle?"

I shrugged again, blushing a bit because, well, yeah, I had.

"You have. Good. Because a guy who does that obviously is either a dick or just shallow and self-centered - which is kind of dickish too. Maybe if you hadn't had sex with him last night he'd be trying harder to please you. But he's obviously already taking that for granted."

I flushed and started to object, or try to, but honestly, it was pointless. This was a smart man.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that men won't buy the cow if they can get the milk for free?"

"I wasn't looking to sell myself," I said indignantly.

"Of course you were. All girls are. You're looking for a permanent relationship. That's why you put up with all the guys like Chad. You have to try them out one after another to find a match, a fit, someone who isn't too much of a dick."

"You're calling your son a dick."

"All twenty-year-old guys are dicks," he said. "Great big walking dicks with little on their minds but fucking and playing. It's the nature of the beast. So tell me about yourself."

I gulped, feeling a little alarmed.

"Uh? Me!? I mean, uhm, I'm nobody!" I exclaimed.

"Everyone is somebody, by definition. Do you go to school?"

I shook my head uncertainly.

"Why not?"

"Because it costs a lot of money."

I flushed and felt a surge of resentment.

"You can get loans and grants, you know."

"And owe a fortune when I'm finished and then just hope I can find a decent, well-paying job so I can pay it back. No thanks. Besides, I have no idea what I want to do."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," I said, wondering why he was sitting there questioning me.

Maybe because I was in my underwear! He certainly wasn't hiding his approval of my body. That gave me a strange flurry of emotions, from anxiety to a kind of breathless energy. I mean, I was just sitting here, laying back on a pile of pillows, wearing this tiny top and my thong! And he was sitting right next to me!

I felt a flutter of sexual energy, of sexual tension under his gaze.

"So what do you do now?"

I shrugged again. "I'm a junior clerk at an import company."

"Like it?"

I gave him a look.

"So what DO you like to do?"

"I dunno," I said helplessly.

"How much do you make as a clerk?"

I looked at him warily. What was he after here?

"Why?"

"It's in my nature to fix things, to never be satisfied with how something works, to always want to improve it, to improve my life, to improve the lives of those I know. I make a great deal of money because I'm very good at seeing where things could be improved."

"I'm fine," I gulped.

He let his eyes look down again before raising them.

"You are indeed."

I gulped and felt that flutter of energy again, felt the sexual tension inside myself get worse. Was this guy really hitting on me?! I mean, I'm his son's ... uhm... date!

Sort of.

"So how much do you make? Minimum wage?"

"Fourteen dollars an hour," I said.

"About two grand a month," he said. "Less due to taxes and other deductions."

I shrugged.

"Do you know what this chalet costs?"

I shook my head, really getting confused.

"Two million seven. I bought it for occasional use, and for an investment, and to occasionally hold meetings here which I can deduct on my taxes. I've got a place in Malibu that costs six times more. I only use that occasionally too. But it's a good investment. They're not making any more coastline."

I looked at him in confusion. Was he bragging? Because he didn't seem the type.

"Where do you live now? Your parents?"

"I.. have an apartment," I said.

"Can't be much with what you make."

"I don't know where you're going with this," I said.

He grinned at me.

"I'm in the market for a house sitter," he said.

"Uh, a what?"

"Someone who will basically live in the Malibu place, or shift over to this place, depending on where my kids might be interested in going at any given time. The insurance company doesn't like me leaving these places empty."

"You want ... me... to live in a house... a multi-million dollar house.. in Malibu?!" I asked, gaping at him.

"I think you'd make a fine addition to the house," he said.

He reached out then, with that big hand, and slid it up along my cheek and through my hair.

"Have to be a salary to go along with it, though. Say, fifty dollars an hour."

I blinked, feeling a sense of astonishment and confusion.

"I work out of San Francisco most of the time, where our main house is. I don't get to the Malibu place more than once or twice a month, if that," he said. "It would be nice to have the place looked after."

"I... I... I...!"

I had no fucking idea what to say!

"Fifty dollars an hour would be about seventy-five hundred dollars a month," he said. "Or about eighty-five thousand a year."

Eighty-five thousand!!?

"Dollars!?" I gasped.

His big hand slid back down along my cheek, and his big thumb stroked lightly along my lower lip.

I was shocked enough I didn't bat his hand away.

"I can put you on the payroll as a consultant or technician or something," he said.

Was this guy crazy!?

His hand slid down my throat, then down along my shoulder, down my side - with the thumb stroking lightly along the side of my breast! It slid lower, along my bare side, and bare hip and then curved gently over along my thigh, and then I gasped, grabbing instinctively at his wrist as his hand moved in and cupped my pussy through the thin thong!

"You know what twenty-year-old guys are not known for," he asked softly. "Being skillful, and patient and knowledgeable in bed."

His index finger was resting right along the naked line of my sex, with only the thin fabric of the thong between it and me! And it was lingerie, not underwear. It was very thin, and his finger was rubbing gently, right... right... there!

"I... I... Mister - ."

"Sterling," he said.

"I... I'm not... I'm not some... some - ."

"Everyone has a price, beautiful. Life is all about trading something you give for something you can get. And when the thing you can get is worth more to you than what you give... then the deal is struck."

He leaned in, his other hand sliding through my hair, and then gripping it behind my head. I gasped as he tilted my head up just as he bent forward. His mouth met mine, his lips seeming to melt against me, even as they pushed insistently against me. I felt my lips giving way almost instinctively, as if I was surrendering to his need.

His lips moved moistly against mine even as his finger rubbed me down there, and his tongue dipped out to delicately brush against me.

My mind was absolutely spinning. This was Chad's father! And he was offering me a job for a ridiculous amount of money and to live at a big house in Malibu! And what he wanted in exchange was... obvious!

But I had never even thought about giving my body to someone for a job or... or money... or anything! Well, except in flights of fancy. It was wrong! On the other hand, God that was a lot of money! And living in Malibu!? On the coast!? In a fucking mansion!?

And by the way, this guy knew how to kiss! I had tried to pull away at first, but his hand held me by the hair while his mouth kind of gently... ravaged me! I'd never been kissed like this before! Chad sure as fuck wasn't nearly as good a kisser!

And that hand rubbing me was producing a growing thrum of energy down there! It moved up and I didn't try to stop it since that was - in theory - what I had been trying to do. But as soon as it moved up enough his fingers pushed down inside the elastic band at the top of my thong and found my bare flesh.

I gasped aloud into his mouth, my hips jerking convulsively at the touch. At the same time, my legs jerked apart out of pure instinct! I felt my heart pounding as my pulse raced. And his finger rubbed me in a circular motion the thrumming pressure inside me grew way more intense, and flooded up through my belly and into my chest!

I felt myself starting to shake, and I abruptly realized I was feeling more... aroused, more excited than I had during the previous night with Chad. And all his father had done so far is kiss me and rub my clit!

Why!?

Because that had been just routine sex. No different than usual. Some kissing, groping, some sucking of his cock, then fucking, and then done. Nothing set it apart from any other guy I'd fucked. He was better than some, worse than others.

Not that I'd fucked a lot of guys, you understand. I mean, I'm talking like, five.

But I'd sure never fucked a guy like Mister Sterling!

And I barely knew him! And he was old! And he was offering me a fucking fortune!

He pulled his lips away from mine and I gulped, heart pounding wildly as he looked at me. Then he dropped his gaze, and his hand, gripped my thong, and peeled it down my legs and off!

I squealed, instinctively, and clapped my hands over myself.

He grinned, then gently lifted my left leg, which was the one with the bad ankle, and pulled it aside. Way aside! He got into bed and knelt before me, then dropped low and began to lightly nibble at my thigh!

Holy fuck!

He kissed my inner thigh, moving upward. Then he kissed the backs of my fingers as I held them against myself. He gripped my hands and gently but firmly pulled them apart, then. He held them down and then his tongue licked up the neat line of my sex!

"Fuck!" I gasped.

"Eventually," he replied.