The Billionaire's Toy Read Free

dabbled in it.
     Heart
beating wildly in her chest, Andrea entered the elevator that would bring her
to the exclusive penthouse of Mr. Assad Amar.
    She
glanced at herself in the mirror surrounding the elevator wall and saw her face
was flushed with excitement and wild expectation. Her eyes were round and
luminous. She realized that this encounter with the filthy rich guy will seal
her status as the new girl on the block at the office. She just had to get a
perfect interview from the man.
    Running a
hand through her thighs, Andrea smoothed out the wrinkles on her clingy black
skirt and patted it down. She had to be the picture of the perfect
professional.
    Rapping
her knuckles on the wide oaken paneling of the door that served as the main
entrance to the penthouse suite, Andrea knocked.
    It only
took a few seconds before she heard a latch being opened from the inside.
    The door
was opened by a tall swarthy man dressed in a brocade bathrobe.
    Andrea
was confused. Was this the Assad Amar? His picture was often plastered in the
financial section of the newspaper but Andrea never took the trouble of
studying his features. She never thought in a million years that she will be
giving this guy an interview today.
    But why
was he in his bathrobe? Did Andrea catch him at a bad time? The office said she
needed to be there in 30 minutes.
    “Good
Morning, my name is Andrea and I was sent by...” Andrea said hesitantly before
the guy cut her off completely with his own greeting.
    Good
Morning, Andrea.” The man replied.
    “Please
come in.” He continued as he pulled the door wide open for her to enter.
    “You must
be Mr. Amar...” Andrea said rather weakly as she stepped inside the plush and
luxurious accommodation of the penthouse suite.
    “Call me
Assad,” the man remarked as he made his way to the bar that was situated at the
rear of the suite.
    Assad
offered Andrea a drink which she naturally refused. It was not professional
practice to drink while on the job.
    Assad
looked at her in surprise. Then taking the drink in his hand, he strolled
casually to where Andrea stood in the middle of the room. He reached out his
hand and stroked her face.
    Andrea
was in shock. “Is this how this man gave interviews?” she thought. Maybe the
ultra and filthy rich had their own code of ethics in granting interviews. She
just needed to maintain her composure, Andrea rationalized.
    Andrea
felt a vivid stirring in her loins at the touch of the man’s hand on her face.
It felt like she accidentally touched an open electric socket, but instead of
pain she felt pleasure.
    She tried
to mask her confusion but there was something vaguely familiar about the man,
now that he stood at such close proximity to her.
    “You do
not look like any of the girls that the Agency usually sends me. I like that.
Variety is the spice....Assad said without finishing the sentence.
    Andrea
could smell the expensive liquor in his breath. And instead of repulsing her,
she found it very attractive.
    “You look
like a working girl, I like that too.” Assad said further.
    Suddenly,
like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky, understanding dawned on
Andrea.
    The Assad
Amar was waiting for a prostitute. There must have been a mix up in the
telephone numbers and the call went to her office instead.
    Andrea
wanted to explain the situation with Assad. But she had to handle this in a
delicate manner.
    “Assad,
I...” she began.
    But Assad
cut her off again.
    He
pointed to an open doorway and Andrea espied a huge king sized bed within.
    “You can
use the bathroom in there to freshen up. Your check is on the table by the
bed.” Assad said.
    Andrea
was dumbstruck. She had no idea what to do next. This filthy rich guy has
mistaken her for a prostitute and it seemed like her payment was ready and
waiting by the table.
    For some
unknown reason that was hard to explain, Andrea knew that even this strange
situation was an opportunity. She allowed Ben to fuck her early this