One Rule for the Rich

In my line of work I get to mix with a lot of folks who earn serious money. They're way out of my league financially - and I'd rather not say too much here about what exactly brings me into contact with them because even in a city like Paris, the super wealthy community is small enough that I could probably be traced and identified through what I'm about to reveal. And believe me there are people involved in this who have a vested interest in keeping things exactly the way they are.

Suffice to say that recently I found myself at a cocktail party at the Serbian Embassy talking to the great and good about various things to do with a charity my company is supporting. Basically, the idea was we would provide food drink and the setting for an auction, and various rich folks would be invited and would bid on items that would be sold to benefit the charity. The event was well attended, and I found myself trying to find something in common with people as I circulated so I could make small talk. I'm good at that, and that's probably why my boss had invited me. We don't particularly get on, and she particularly dislikes my wife, Clara, who happens to be Italian and who speaks her mind too often for my boss's comfort, but as a boss she's astute enough to recognise I have a certain skill in talking people into doing what I want them to do, and that's why both Clara and I were there champagne glasses in hand, me in my tuxedo, Clara looking gorgeous in a little black cocktail dress that looked like it came straight from Audrey Hepburn's wardrobe.

So this is the situation that brought me into contact with David. David is Russian, a millionaire several times over, and I had met him once before at a Top 14 game at the Stade de France so it was reasonable to assume he was a rugby fan. I passed him a glass of Klug and to get the conversation started I casually asked him if he thought the Russian rugby team had a chance against their upcoming World Cup game against Uruguay. He beamed and we got into a detailed conversation about the growth of rugby in Russia and how he hoped he would one day return and own a club of his own. So far everything was going to plan. I knew I'd start hitting on him for a contribution at around his fourth sip of champagne and ease it in casually into the conversation. I'd done this a dozen times already that night and it worked more times than not. The bidding was already underway for some of the smaller items, and I figured I'd make David my last call before going to watch the action.

David, however, was playing a little game of his own it seemed. Another Russian guy I'd never met came up to him and murmured something that made David laugh. He said something back and the guy left - looking, I thought, a bit pissed off. Then David turned to me and said "Do you know how much money you need to make a woman give you her panties?"

I was taken completely aback. This was not the conversation I'd imagined we'd be having. But David wanted an answer. I stuttered and replied something along the lines of "You mean like prostitutes?" I figured maybe since David's first language wasn't English, he'd got confused about how to describe buying sex. But it turned out there was nothing wrong with David's English. He had genuinely had a bet with his friend about how much money you would need to offer a woman to get hr to take her panties off and give them to you. His friend had said 3,000 Euros. David had said 1,000. And he'd won.

I found myself completely drawn in. "Tell me more about that", I said.

"Ah my friend, you have no idea. It's a little game we play. After all, you have that expression in English 'one rule for the rich, another for the poor'. I am rich, so I play by different rules to you. Everything is for sale if you can pay the right price. And in my position I can pay anyone whatever it takes".

You can probably imagine my reaction was a mixture of shock and excitement. Imagine having the kind of money where you could literally buy whatever you wanted - including the willing submission of any woman to your requests. He recognised the look on my face and asked me if I would like a demonstration.

Of course I said yes, so he called one of the cocktail waitresses over. She brought a tray of canapes to us and as he took one he spoke low into her ear. At the same time he put something in the pocket of the little frilly apron she was wearing. I could see it was a 500 Euro note. She looked surprised, but not particularly shocked. She looked thoughtful rather. Then she disappeared for a few minutes and came back and put something in his pocket. He let her walk away and showed me what it was. A pair of panties. Nothing special. Black, from Monoprix, slightly stained at the front and still moist. He put them back in his pocket.

"She's unmarried. They're always much cheaper. But she was turned on. You can feel the wet from her juices" he said.

He didn't say this with any surprise or excitement. it was totally matter of fact to him. He knew exactly how much money he would have to offer a complete stranger to get her to take her panties off and give them to him. The girl was pretty and I could feel my cock stiffen at the thought of looking at her for the rest of the evening and knowing that she was pantie-less and wet under that French maid dress. But For David this was just the base level.

"How much do you think a married woman would require?" he asked me.

"A thousand?" I said, remembering how he had won his bet. But he was shaking his head.

"Eight hundred is usually enough", he said. With married women all they really need is time to think it through. The money is secondary. Most of them like the thrill. In fact, once you've got them stripped you can usually go a lot further".

I looked around. My boss was close by talking to the wife of our newest board member. She was Emilie. About 45, pretty and wearing a similar dress to Clara, who had disappeared somewhere. I looked at David and he followed my gaze. He looked approvingly at Emilie and walked over to them. My boss introduced them and then left them to talk alone. I watched from about fifteen feet away while David softened her up with some Russian charm.

I could tell the moment he asked her. Her eyes went wide and she looked genuinely shocked. He's going to get a serious face slapping, I thought. But no. She didn't do that. She walked away looking insulted but she never raised a fuss. He walked back to me and took a bottle of 1664 from the nearby ice bucket. "Can't win them all", I said. He shrugged. "Wait" he said.

It took about twenty minutes. Emilie walked back and stood about fifteen feet away - close to where the conversation had taken place. She stood there and waited. David patiently finished his beer and walked over to her. She smiled, albeit a bit stiffly, and spoke to him very quickly. He didn't appear to say a word - although he had his back turned to me so i couldn't really be sure.

Anyway, they disappeared together and I took a bottle of beer myself since I was now officially done with my duties for the evening. I'd just finished it when Emilie and David returned to view. She looked red in the face and her make-up had run slightly. They didn't stay together. She quickly composed herself and got talking to a group of acquaintances. He came over to me and put something in my hand. It was a pair of silk Versace panties. The front was soaking wet and, involuntarily, I raised it to my face and smelled it. I was struck by the smell of pretty Emilie's cum.

David winked at me. "Not a penny", he said. "But you have to understand, I had to be rich to get that one for free". I must have looked puzzled because he went on to explain that they had done more than just disappear while Emilie took off her panties. He had also finger fucked her in the executive bathroom until she came. She had, said David, also offered to give him the same treatment but he had refused. I wondered if David was bored with the opportunities for sex his wealth and his position opened up for him and was now actually more fascinated with the bizarre social psychology aspect of what he was doing.

I decided to ask him about that. I don't normally ask other guys about sex. I'm kind of traditional that way, but how often do you meet someone who does what David does?

Turns out he gets plenty of sex, but it's almost exclusively with married women. It's the idea of taking another man's wife that gets his juices flowing. I thought to myself how often I'd fantasised about other men's wives - and also how often other men might have fantasised about fucking my own wife, and I had to agree given David's wealth I would probably be doing the same as him.

At that moment I was called over to the auction by my boss. I looked for Clara but couldn't see her. I also lost sight of David for the rest of the evening but I knew I wasn't going to forget that conversation in a hurry - and I knew I'd be sharing it with Clara since infidelity was part of a fantasy story we'd often told ourselves during sex.

The auction went really well and only one item was left by the end of the evening - which for legal reasons had to end at midnight. The lot that was left unsold was actually the only one I was interested in myself - a set of Tiger Woods golf clubs with a signature putter that had failed to reach its threshold price of 1000 Euros. It would now be sold the following morning when auction laws allowed the disposal of unsold lots.

I was looking at the clubs in their beautiful leather bag when I heard a voice in my ear.

"Want them?" I turned and said Clara. She looked lovelier than ever. Evidently flushed with the success of the evening - or else from the three glasses of champagne I knew she'd had.

"I love them, but we can't afford to blow a grand on golf clubs, honey" I replied, touched that she'd even thought of it.

"Think again", she said. She held out her hand. In it were six 500-Euro notes!

We got in around 1 AM and went straight to the bedroom. I slid the black cocktail dress off her and kissed her. She responded and murmured "I want you". My hands slid down her belly to her cunt. Her panties were gone.

And what I realised was David's cum was starting to leak slowly down her thigh.