I mean, if I had just met that blonde girl at the bar a few hours earlier—what was her name again? Becca?—then none of this would've fucking happened. Hell, I probably would've taken her back to my place and kept fucking the shit out of her.
I mean, did you fucking see her? Did you ever see a more perfect woman in your fucking life? Those fucking tits? I felt them. They were so fucking firm. So ripe. Pert. Springy. I just loved feeling them.
That ass? You just want to fucking grab it and squeeze those ass cheeks like dough. Just suck on those legs, kiss that neck, slap that ass, lick those nipples, and pull that luxurious hair.
Fuck, just thinking about that girl is enough to make me fucking hard again.
But that's the last thing I want to do right now. Is be hard.
Not when Lorna is sitting across from me.
Fucking bitch from hell is what she is. The way her perfectly tailored pantsuit is put together, she's giving me a strange look.
"Mason, are you alright?" she asks with a voice dripping with fakeness. "Are you still...excited to see me?"
Fucking Christ. I'm about as excited to see her as I am of contracting fucking syphilis.
But there's nothing I can really do in this moment.
I fucked up. I don't deny that. I let my cock do my thinking for me, and I came on the set of a television news interview.
Millions of people got home from work and turned on the TV to see the interview with the King of Wall Street and potentially gain some insight into their investments for their retirement. Instead, they saw my huge monster cock destroy the interviewer's pussy. As an extra piece of icing on the cake, they then saw me cum like a fucking racehorse. Not just in the air, or on the woman, or anything that remotely resembles decent sex acts. No, I fucking came right at them. On the fucking camera.
I downloaded the video after it went viral. By the time I'm done groaning, you can't really see any more. Just a wall of translucent white. It literally feels like someone just came on your eyes and you went fucking blind.
"Mason?" Lorna asks again, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," I reply back tersely.
She bristles at my brush off. Well, fuck her. She's been bristling her whole life at me.
You think I'm being unfair? You think she deserves a chance, or something?
Let me tell you a bit about this woman.
If people ever really do call me the King of Wall Street to themselves, then they probably call her the Bitch Who'll Fuck You Over.
Her claim to fame is that her father was wealthy. Jonathan Lowell was a famous Wall Street lawyer. He had one of the most respected law practices, managing a small law firm that had a better reputation than Sullivan & Cromwell and Quinn Price. His company was built around solid bedrock principles of trust and conservative advice.
The man loved his family. He had one daughter and a wife. But life didn't love him back. Some time ago, he lost his wife to cancer. So he devoted all his attention on his daughter. But instead of realizing how wonderful her father was, all that attention did was make her a vain, vile, spiteful, selfish cunt of a woman. Her father gave her the best schooling that his money could buy. She repaid him by running off and getting married to the son of his business rival.
He was able to make peace with that, but she divorced him a year later when he found out she was cheating on him.
I don't know the exact details of Lorna's life aside from that, but I do know that I respected her father. As a friend.
And it broke my fucking heart to see her cause her father to age so fast. He was worried about her, sure. But it was like she took a special liking to causing him trouble.
The worst came when she got together with a few of his partners and they bought out his practice. It's a practice called a leveraged buyout. With Jonathan's company, the partners took over, and forced Jonathan out. They paid him maybe $10 million dollars—a fucking pittance when held against the fact that he started and kept that company together his entire life.
Then, with Jonathan Lowell forced out, the ethics at his law firm just went out the window. It wasn't about respect anymore. It was about making a fast buck. They started taking on more than just securities litigation. They started defending drug pushers and hit men.
Lorna wasn't a lawyer; at heart she was a fucking shark.
Her father, who had three loves of his life—his wife, his company, and his daughter—now saw that his wife had passed away, his company was taken from him and dragged through the mud, and his daughter had betrayed him.
He died the next year. I remember he passed away a sad and lonely old man.
And so when Kane Price went public several years ago Lorna personally used her monies that she made off her father's company and took a large stake in my bank.
She got a large enough seat that according to the Kane Price company bylaws, I had to give her a fucking seat on my Board of Directors.