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The plane ride proved uneventful. Luc stayed in the front section with Lola and Leonie, only passing through to visit the bathroom. We had a few shared glances. But no chance for any real interaction.
Around five o’clock in the evening New York time, we land at Meridian Teterboro—the deluxe FBO at the private jet airport. We don’t linger as the ten of us hop onto one of Luc’s Sikorsky S-92 Executive luxury helicopters. Designated to take us the seven miles from New Jersey to Manhattan’s West 30th Street Heliport in less than fifteen minutes. For a billionaire, a thirty-minute drive in excellent traffic conditions is an inconvenience.
I finagle a seat next to him and periodically brush my thigh against his muscular one. Triumph fills my chest as he shifts in his seat. My touches invoke a response in him after all.
A burst of giggles from Lola and Leonie draws Luc’s attention their way, his face reddens in embarrassment. Caught in my flirty behavior, I turn my gaze to the scenery outside the window as a flush creeps up from my chest to my hairline. Gah!
Soon we disembark and stride to the awaiting vehicles. Two Mercedes-Benz Sprinters for the larger luggage and trunks for the collections. Two Escalades with drivers for the staff. Luc’s driver greets him, Lola, and Leonie as he holds the door open to the Black Badge Rolls-Royce Cullinan. I watch dismayed as they slip inside, and the SUV drives away.
With a sigh, I follow the others into another SUV. We make conversation. But my mind wanders to Luc. Even with shifting in his seat, he couldn’t hide the massive bulge in his trousers. His impressive size made my pussy quiver and my mouth salivate. How the heck will I fit his cock in any of my holes?
I giggle to myself. Yes, Blair, think positively, girl!
We arrive at the St. Regis New York on Fifty-fifth Street around the corner from Fifth Avenue. I’ll stay in the Dior Suite while Lola and Leonie take up residence in the Presidential Suite. Unfortunately, Luc chose his palatial Fifth Avenue penthouse overlooking Central Park instead of the hotel.
A smartly dressed doorman opens the SUV’s door at the hotel’s entrance.
“Good evening, welcome to the St. Regis New York.”
“Thank you.”
“Enjoy your stay,” he enthuses.
Two bellmen swiftly appear to assist with the trunks and to take my carry-on. They usher me up the red-carpeted stairs. Another doorman greets me with a flourish. “Good evening, ma’am, welcome to the St. Regis New York.”
“Thank you.”
The concierge meets me at the entrance and takes me directly to my suite. Suite is an understatement for what’s more like a grand apartment. It pays homage to the elegance of the French atelier. I stroll through the marble foyer to the bedroom with an en suite bathroom and a dressing area. Then to the other side for a look at the living room, separate dining room with kitchenette, and a half bathroom. The dove gray, off-white, and platinum decor heightens the sumptuous space.
I wonder what the interior of Luc’s mansion looks like.
“… will you require any further help this evening, mademoiselle?”
I catch the tail end of the concierge’s comments. With a gracious smile, I turn to him and the butler.
“I’m fine for now, thank you.”
“Very well. We’ll take our leave,” the concierge says. They bow slightly and exit the suite.
I set aside thoughts of Luc and prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. Business before imminent pleasure.
* * *
“Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”
I smile at Melody—the administrative assistant to Sebastian Steele. She returns my smile and leaves the conference room. I go about preparing the room for the meeting. While I place copies of the presentation on the sleek, black, wooden side table and the laptop on the larger one, the caterers arrive with the Continental breakfast. Once all is set, I head to the room where the glam squad prepares the models for the mini fashion show. Finding all in order, I return to the conference room.
As I appear in the doorway, I see Luc and Lola. My face splits into a bright smile at Luc, then at her.
“Good morning, Monsieur Montaigne!”
“Bonjour, Blair.”
Lola interrupts me before I can speak another word.
“Blair, please help me with these,” she says, pointing at the various remotes that control the conference room’s audio-visual system.
Melody assists us. Soon we have the laptop connected and working properly. Her mobile chirps and she excuses herself to collect Mr. Steele and his team.
