More Bang for His Buck

More Bang for His Buck
- The Billionaire’s Girl

(
BBW Erotic Romance)

By Madelene Martin

Copyright 2012

***

This ebook is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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An Excerpt From the Book:

“Why did you book this entire room? Too good to eat with the regular people?” I asked, somewhere into my fourth glass.

Rick scoffed. “Well no. But I hate noise and interruptions. Don’t you?”

And like ill fate, I heard the ringtone of a phone. It buzzed on the table next to him. He stopped, sat up straight and picked it up to look at it. Then, to my astonishment, he screwed up his face, turned the phone upside down, and dropped it into his drink.

I think that’s the moment when I decided I wanted to jump him.

Rick ordered dessert. I ordered iced coffee. And I kept shaking my head no when he offered me a bite of his mud cake, even though I secretly wanted to feed it to me like in one of those cheesy chick flicks
.

~~~~

It was 2am,
and I’d just gotten home from work. I danced around my kitchen, humming quietly to myself in between bites of dinner. My bare feet, toes painted bright red, padded on the floor, and my white lacy nightgown swayed and moved over my full hips. I wasn’t wearing it for anyone in particular - I just liked wearing pretty things, especially at night after work. It made me feel sexy, and luxurious.

Work had been good tonight.
Being a Thursday, the club had been full enough but not crowded and the rude patrons had been at a minimum. I’d had time to chat minimally with a few cute guys, and to flirt, bending over the bar to show off my low-cut shirt and ample cleavage. Still, I was tired. And the job had definitely begun to wear on me gradually over the months.

The other bartenders were mostly all skinny women - aside from my friend James, who’d landed me the job
, of course. I was getting tired of listening to them giggle and gossip and, on not a few occasions, go home with guys at the end of the night. Men would stare at my chest and chat me up, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate me so much if they could see me from the waist down. Anyway, I was starting to get annoyed with the night shift, and sleeping half the day away. But there would always be excuses. The fact was, I’d never stayed in a job for very long, be it office or bar.

Still humming,
I idly checked my phone. One missed call, from James, who hadn’t had a shift for a couple of days. When he wasn’t at the bar, he tended to forget that I still was, until the early hours of the morning. I made a mental note to call him back the next day.

My
dinner had been vanquished, so I tossed everything in the sink and made my way to the bathroom. Everything in there was white and soft, just the way I liked it. Candles, soft fluffy towels, and my favourite bathrobe hanging on the door. I glanced longingly at the tub with its various scented lotions and soaps, but knew I was too tired. I’d probably fall asleep in there and wake up in cold water at 5am. It had happened before.

I scrubbed at my face, doing my best to remove the heavy black eyeliner and mascara
, and looking into my own wide green eyes in the mirror. Some said they were my best feature, so I tried to play them up. Letting my long dirty-blonde hair out, I tousled it and let it fall over my shoulders.

Then, as I always did, I undressed myself in front of the mirror, letting my nightgown fall and pool at my feet as I critically examined my body.
I ran my hands over the slight curve of my stomach and turned to get a side view. I liked the round curve of my hips, but wished my boobs were a little less heavy and a bit more perky. My ass stuck out like a shelf, I often complained to my friends. It was an empty complaint - just self-deprecating humor. I didn’t mind the way I looked. I was, however overly conscious of the fact that it seemed most guys were looking for skinny girls.

I yawned, exhausted, and
retired to my room. There I fell into bed, exhausted, and pulled the sheets around me.

***

I woke to the insistent buzzing of my phone. I groaned, and fumbled around among the blankets, where I vaguely remembered tossing it last night. It was just James. I picked up.

“What?” I
slurred politely

“
What the - Jess, are you still asleep?”

“No
t anymore.” I grumbled, and then let out a sigh. “Sorry - what’s up, James?”

“
Well, I was talking to a friend of mine, and I have a lead on a job for you. He needs a personal assistant. Like, yesterday.”

I sat up a bit straighter in bed. “I’m listening…”

James chuckled on the other end. “Well, I say he’s a friend, but I don’t really know that much about his professional life, so I can’t really say what the job entails. Standard PA stuff, I guess. I was just talking to him about work and mentioned you. Then I remembered you used to do admin.”

“I see.” I glanced down at the phone. It was almost midday. I rubbed an eye with my free hand.

“But he’ll expect hard work, Jess. I put in a word for you but if you don’t want to-“

“I’m not afraid of hard work!” I screwed up my face in protest, as though he could see my indignant look.

There was silence for a few seconds on
James’ end. “…Anyway… this would probably be a good opportunity for you, and he hinted the pay isn’t bad either.”

“Who is it?” I enquired, choosing to ignore
the attitude.

“Rick Alcott.
From Tableau.”

I didn’t know
his name, but I knew the company - a high profile advertising business. “I see.”

“You have to get there this afternoon for an interview, if you’re going at all.
”

I pulled the phone away to look at it again, having already forgotten the time from a few minutes ago. “Aww, fuck.
What time?”

“2 pm.”

I thanked him and sprang out of bed, still on the line. As shiftless as I normally was, I had been looking for an opportunity like this for a while. I had worked as a receptionist up until a year ago, and had all the skills - but a PA job could actually go somewhere.

“Argh,
James, what do I wear?” I whined.

As predicted, r
ummaging through my extensive wardrobe didn’t produce much in the way of business attire, however. I pulled out pants and skirts, most of which were pretty old and too tight. Why didn’t I clear out my closet more often? I cursed myself.

“Come and help me?” I asked.

He laughed. “I’m not travelling for half an hour to help you pick a dress.”

“You think I should wear a
dress
?” I held one up. A bit too colourful and flouncy for a job interview, I judged.

“Sure.
Something to show off your curves.”

I snorted. “Please, that’s the last thing I need to
emphasize.” I threw a shirt across the room, hanger and all.

“Why do you always
say things like that?” He scolded. “You look great. At least when you’re confident. You’re a babe, babe!”

I smiled, not answering.
James was gay, so I wasn’t sure he saw me the same way other guys would.

“Just do it!” He said after a minute. “
Take my advice for once, woman!”

I giggled, said a quick goodbye, and gave up on the dresses
for now, in order to concentrate on lingerie. That, I didn’t need help with.

M
y collection was extensive, and I loved to wear something sexy under my every day clothes - even if no one else ever saw it. I chose a red lacy bra and high cut panties, and found some black stay-up stockings. I always liked the red and black effect of the lingerie. The red stood out on my pale skin and the full cups of the bra supported my generous bust and created just the right amount of cleavage.

I threw everything on the bed, and rushed into the shower.

With renewed resolution, I started sifting through the closet again, and quickly
settled on the plainest black dress I could find. I had worn it only once, because I normally liked to wear color. But it had a modest neckline, and was roomy so that it didn’t look like I was about to bust out of my clothing.

I threw on some makeup, making sure to tone it down from my usual look - and put my hair up in what I hoped was a professional style. Now, if only I could make it to the interview on time.

***

The Tableau main office building was imposing, huge and glass-fronted. I walked into the lobby, three minutes late and slightly flustered, and greeted the receptionist - a tall, thin woman wearing thick-rimmed glasses. She led me through a few doors and into a waiting area. I looked around, and my heart sank.

There were about eight other people waiting.
Most of them were young women, clutching their resumes, looking infinitely more confident and professional than I imagined I did. What had I expected - James had gotten me an interview, but of course that didn’t mean I was the only one. I heartily wished I’d thought to go over my CV, and maybe put it in some fancy folder.

I took a seat, smoothing my skirt beneath me, and played with my phone to while away the time. 

One by one, the applicants were shown through. I saw them leave, too, with smiles on their faces. I could have sworn
each
looked very confident about their chances for the job.

Eventually it was my turn. The receptionist
peered around the room inquiringly. “Jessica Adams?”

I’d been in a daze, and jumped up in surprise
. “I’m here.” Clutching my resume and my handbag, I followed her.

Rick Alcott’s office was huge. A giant desk dominated one side of the room,
with comfortable-looking leather furniture on the other side. There was an adjoining room, which was closed. It was all very tidy, and had the requisite beautiful city view. I could see it had started raining outside, the sky darkening and a few drops of rain landing on the windows.

“Good afternoon, Miss Adams.
I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Please, take a seat.” Rick Alcott had a pleasant but bored-sounding baritone voice. He was seated at his desk; pen in hand, stack of papers in front of him. I wasn’t sure if he’d even looked up from his reading. I smiled, and walked toward the desk, heels clicking on the tiles and then growing silent as I stepped onto the thick carpet.

I sat down slowly,
placing my resume on the desk before me, and waiting. After a minute, I felt decidedly awkward. I willed myself not to fidget. Instead, I crossed my legs and watched him. He was young - maybe five years older than me at most, I estimated. His hair was light brown, or perhaps dark blonde, and slightly messy, and he wore glasses with steel-colored wire frames. In his hand the pen tap-tapped restlessly against the desk as he read.

After a minute, he abruptly dropped the pen,
and pulled off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes briefly, and then sat back with a sigh. His eyes met mine as he ran a hand through his hair, and his face was transformed with a warm smile. I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat under the force of that smile. His eyes were a light blue and his strong jaw was covered in light stubble, and he was… well, he was completely hot.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “
I hate this crap.”

I blinked.

He and reached over to grab my resume, and I slid it gently toward him over the polished wood. Then he looked stared at me, taking in my face and then briefly, my upper body. I fought the instinct to shield my expansive bust.

He went back to reading. “So…” He began.
“As you know, I’m in need of a new assistant. James mentioned you’re a bartender?”

I flushed. “Yes,
that’s what I’m doing at the moment. But I have had plenty of experience as a receptionist. I know all the new software, and I have an excellent phone manner.”

He smiled again, not looking up, eyes scanning the pages.
“You have plenty of experience in a lot of things.”

I rolled my eyes while he wasn’t watching. “Yeah - Yes. Let’s just say I haven’t yet found my calling.”

He turned the final page, glanced at it, and put the resume down. “You believe you have a calling?”

I licked my lips nervously.
“I don’t know.” I decided to be honest. “I haven’t been happy in a job for a while. I don’t think I’ve found the right one for me, yet.”