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I turn around and rip my boss’s shirt open. I lick his chest and run my hands over his strong, flat stomach. We wrestle and fight for dominance as we fall to the floor. Mr. Peak pins me down. “I’m going to have to f**k you into submission!” he screams.
My boss unzips his pants. He spreads my legs and starts to f**k me nice and hard right there on the jet. I can feel my face turning red. My boss f**ks me harder and faster until I begin to scream and cry like an inexperienced prom queen.
Mr. Peak takes me to an explosive cli**max which makes me claw my fingers into his back. My boss screams as he reaches orgasm. The billionaire collapses on top of me, completely exhausted. I run my hands down to his strong, round as**s and give it a squeeze. Mr. Peak may be on top of me but I feel like I am in control!
I lick and bite down on Mr. Peak’s right ear. He is too tired to respond to my playful behavior. I don’t blame him. No one f**ks as fast and as hard as my billionaire boss. It takes us a few minutes to recover from that spontaneous “Mile High” session.
Mr. Peak puts his shirt and pants back on and gets right back to business. Much to my surprise, the flight is almost half over. Things are moving fast. Mr. Peak is barking orders to his traders in New York, LA, Singapore and Zurich.
“Buy gold and oil across the board. I don’t care what price you get. Just go, go, go!” Mr. Peak orders to his men. I get dressed and watch my hulking boss run the world from the inside of his $40 million dollar Gulfstream.
I recline back and watch a little TV. The Gulfstream seems to have no problem picking up satellite TV channels from both Europe and the United States. I flip through the channels until I see a helicopter shot of Sergey’s Mega-Yacht. Oh, this should be interesting.
I turn up the volume to the news network - “The son of feared dictator Yuri Molidak was rushed to the hospital with severe injuries. The nature of the injuries are not known. However, the 24-year old Sergey Molidak is known for his hard partying and violent behavior. The injuries may be the result of a night of bad boy behavior in the billionaire’s haven of Monaco.”
I can’t help but smile. Mr. Peak continues to bark orders on his phone. I don’t want to raise the volume on the TV for fear of angering my boss. I lean in towards the TV and continue to listen to the news reporter. “We now have unconfirmed reports of a gun battle erupting in the capital city of Odostan. As we have been reporting, the son of Odastan’s dictator was severely injured in Monaco last night. We have no idea if the two events are related.”
At this point, I tap my boss on the shoulder and point to the news channel. My boss reads the scrolling news alerts - Gun Battle In Odostan. He looks at me and says, “Keep an eye on that. Also look up the keywords ‘Odostan,’ ‘Kuva,’ and ‘Yuri Molidak’ on Twitter.”
I do just as my boss orders. Mr. Peak is a really smart guy. Civilians in Kuva - the capital city of Odostan - are most likely to have the first eyewitness reports as to what is going on. I find a spare iPad in the Gulfstream cabin and begin to monitor Twitter.
I type in “Kuva.” Already, I am hit with dozens of tweets.
“Military opening fire in Kuva!”
“Army Tanks on streets in Kuva, headed towards Presidential Palace!!!”
“Firefight in Kuva. Military coup! Finally, they are going to get that bastard Molidak!”
I keep updating the feed. And I can’t believe the second-by-second updates coming from the center of the revolt.
“Massive explosion near the Palace. Black smoke rising from the center of Kuva!”
“Planes flying over the skies in Kuva. They are firing at Molidak’s Palace!”
It takes me a moment to realize that my boss is leaning on my chair watching the Twitter feed with the same rapt attention as myself.
“Is this going as planned, sir?”
“No. It is moving much faster. This thing could be over by the time we land in New York,” Mr. Peak explains as he gets back on his phone.
I go back to the news channels and see raw camera phone footage of the military uprising from Kuva. The news anchor mentions that the military has “taken over” every major street in Kuva and that no one is being allowed out of the capital city.
My heart races with excitement. Could I really be instrumental in the overthrow of a dictatorship? Now, I am beginning to feel the “high” of having power. To be honest, it is more intoxicating than that shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, more exhilarating than flying on a private jet and more addictive than taking trips to Monte Carlo.
