Mr. Billionaire Bachelor

So, with my last story, I riled up the LW crowd and had a good laugh. Now, I'm going to get back to what I like best: Telling a good sexy love story. I hope you enjoy and, as always, please feel free to leave constructive criticism.

*

"Pardon me?" the young man in the brown blazer and ripped blue jeans asked the trio of suited men across the glass-top and chrome table then asked for clarification. "Could you repeat that? How much was that offer?"

"One hundred twenty-five million dollars, Mr. Edwards," the man on the right end of the trio said. Damian was sure all three men had told him their names, but the sheer enormity of the situation had given him a quick and total case of amnesia. Mr. Right-Side, a man of about sixty with thinning grey hair and a dour expression permanently planted on his face spoke again. "$125 million for signing this contract, thereby selling your company and its holdings, patents, and inventions to our clients. And don't forget about the stock options you'll receive once the company goes public. With the package we've offered you, you will most certainly be a billionaire before your 35^th birthday."

"But," Damian countered, "the people that work for me? They're assured of keeping their jobs, right? Because I won't sell the company unless I get that guarantee." Damian's company, AeroSonik, employed about 150 men and women in the Gravel City area and he desperately wanted to keep from having that many people out of work because of him just before the holidays.

"Of course, Mr. Edwards," Right-Side said, his face never changing expression. The man could be suffering a heart attack and no one would know, Damian thought. "We wish to keep all our employees happy. Your people have worked admirably to design and build parts for our benefactor and we don't want to disrupt the flow." He then produced a silver metal pen from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and spoke to Damian again. "As a matter of fact," Right-Side said as he handed the pen to Damian, "we plan to give every AeroSonik employee a raise and an extra week of vacation, as well as stock options and retention of their previous benefits. They, and you, have nothing to worry about, Mr. Edwards."

"Sounds like a win-win for everyone," Damian said as he reached for Right-Side's pen and pretended to look over the contract. He already knew that the purchasing company was going to keep his employees on and happy. His lawyers had already gone over the purchase agreement with a fine-toothed comb and had set Damian's mind at ease. Everything was above board, and, with a flick of the silver pen, Damian Edwards would become a very rich man. Damian signed and initialed where he needed to, then handed the contract back to Right-Side. He slipped the pen into his shirt's breast pocket and smiled. "I'll keep this, if you can spare it," Damian said to his counterparts across the table, sizing them up.

"Please do, Mr. Edwards. With our compliments!" Right-Side said, the first hint of a grin creeping across his age-weathered face. Damian stood as the triumvirate across from him did and proceeded to shake hands at the conclusion of their agreement. Damian thought the three would have given him the shirts off their back and the pants to go with it for the chance to purchase his company. AeroSonik was the only company in America that produced a certain part for the next generation of rocket engines.

Damian, a gifted engineer, had come up with the design while still in high school and worked to develop and invent the part as he attended MIT. After perfecting the design, he proposed it to the government and they awarded him with a contract to begin manufacturing it, giving him enough money to build his factory and employ 150 workers that desperately needed jobs in the economic downturn. When the government contract expired, Damian's thoughts turned to keeping the business afloat and productive but was blindsided by the offer from the conglomerate that the three men shaking his hand represented. The sale of the company would mean he wouldn't have to work again but would also take care of the most important person in his young life.

++++++++++

The pink vase sailed through the air and barely missed hitting Damian in the forehead. He ducked just in time as the older woman screamed at him.

"Get out of here!" the white-haired woman hollered as she looked for something else to throw at the man standing in her kitchen. "Get out right now or I'll call the police!"

Damian knew better than to try to reason with her. He slowly backed out of the kitchen, watching for more flying objects, and let himself out the front door. Damian stood on the porch and counted to ten. He had been through this scenario more times than he cared to recall. After he finished counting, Damian rang the doorbell and waited nervously. When the door opened, the older woman that had thrown the vase that whizzed past his head looked at Damian and smiled.

"Hi, Damie!" the woman said and took the young man in a loving embrace. A tear slipped from Damian's eye as his mother hugged him. The doctor had told him that it wouldn't be long before her episodes would worsen, but it had been quicker than he thought. In the past two months, his mother's Alzheimer's had progressed to the point that she would soon need hourly attention and Damian would have to make some hard choices. But for now, mother and son walked hand-in-hand toward the kitchen where Damian's head had nearly been dented just a few moments before.

"What's new, Mr. Magoo?" Damian's mother asked, using the line she had used all through his childhood. Damian felt the tears well up again but fought his emotions back and put on a brave face for his ailing mother.

"Well, I sold the company today, Mom," he answered, not sure if she would remember he wasn't in school anymore. "Do you remember the company I own?"

"Of course, I do, Damie," his mother replied as she turned away from him. Damian was quite sure that if he were able to look in to his mother's eyes then he could tell she was lying to make herself seem better than her condition really was.

"Good," Damian said as he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Then you remember what we talked about. About you going into assisted living if I made this deal?"

"I couldn't leave here," she responded. "What would your father do without me?"

Her question made Damian wince visibly. "Mom, Dad's been gone for six years now... Mom, I think it would be best if we... If you went somewhere that would help you cope with your... condition..."

"Oh, nonsense!" his mother retorted. "Where would you go if I wasn't here. If we gave up the house?"

"Mom, I don't live here. Haven't for twelve years now. I have my own house, remember? With the big tree out back that you always say looks like elves should live in it?"

"Oh, I love that tree..." she said, almost pondering. "I remember when I was a kid, we used to hang an old tire from that tree and swing for hours on it, back and forth until..."

"Mom," Damian interrupted, "that's not the same tree. You grew up in Kansas City. This is Michigan. Mom... I really think you need to come with me and look at this place. It's very nice and there are lots of people your age to talk with and doctors and nurses to help you when you're... not having a good day. Will you come look with me?"

"OK, Damie." She answered. "I'll come look with you."

He was relieved when she volunteered to go with him. Damian had also breathed a sigh of relief when his mother hadn't noticed that he had moved most of her clothes and personal effects out of the house a few days prior. She didn't protest when the nurses took her coat and showed her to her new room and she didn't bat an eye when Damian kissed her and told her that he'd see her in a few days. But Damian cried like a baby when he got to his car in the parking lot of the assisted living home. It took him fifteen minutes to calm down enough to even start the car, and then he sat in the lot for another twenty minutes debating with himself about leaving his only living relative in a place where she knew no one and had nothing.

In the end, Damian put his car in gear and sped out of the lot and back to his home on Old Grand River Road (Old G.R.), past the Mason mansion, past the house that the old dead gangster used to own and finally to his house that sat on the point with the Gravel River on one side and the tree that the elves should live in on the other. Damian went inside his quiet empty house, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and sat down on his leather couch and cried some more until he fell asleep.

++++++++++

As it turned out, that was the last time Damian saw his mother alive. A few days after arriving at the assisted living home, Sylvia Edwards slipped past two chatting nurses and made her way out the front door. Determined to go back to her house, Sylvia walked a half-mile to the nearest intersection in her blue robe, yellow pajamas, and fuzzy slippers, and tried to cross the busy thoroughfare. The eighteen-wheeler that struck and killed Damian's mother barely had time to blow his horn to warn her. Sylvia Edwards died instantly, which was no comfort to her only son.

Although he did not sue the assisted living home for negligence in his mother's death, Damian did make sure of two things. He made sure that the two women that had missed his mother making her way out of the home were not fired. Mistakes happen, he said. It was no one's fault. Damian also made sure that all the windows in the home were equipped with locks too difficult for elderly hands to manipulate and all the doors had keypad locks installed so that none of the residents could slip out and harm themselves as his mother did.

The funeral was a small affair. Damian had extended family still living in Kansas City that he had seen once or twice on family vacations. A handful of those relatives came along with a few of Sylvia's friends and representatives from the assisted living home and from Damian's former company. After the service, Damian had his mother laid to rest next to her husband of thirty-seven years, his father, at Deerfield Cemetery not far from his house on Old G.R. Road. Damian hosted a dinner at his home after the service then, after the well-wishers left, found himself truly alone for the first time in his life. Damian had no siblings. His mother was over forty when she gave birth to him and his father nearing fifty. Now that his mother was gone, Damian was without loved ones and any ties to Gravel City. After tying up some loose ends, Damian decided to travel now that his newly-acquired wealth would allow it.

++++++++++

Ever since his last year of high school, Damian had been an avid skier. He joined the ski club on a whim in his senior year with a couple of friends, bought some second-hand skis and poles, and proceeded to fall flat on his face the first time he went down the bunny hill. But the second time he tried, Damian expertly schussed down without so much as a hiccup, then moved to the next more-skilled trail and so on until, by the end of the season, he was amazing the instructors with his alpine skills.

It was that senior year that Damian also noticed a few of the female skiers in tight lycra pants and form-fitting sweaters. That was actually why his friends wanted to join the ski club in the first place. One young woman in particular, Rhonda Davies, a statuesque redhead nearly as tall as Damian's 6'1" height, decided to sit with him in the back seat of the bus as the group made their way back home from the third excursion of the season. Most of the other students were asleep as Rhonda slid a little closer to Damian and began to chat quietly with him.

"Your name is Damian, right? Like that movie about the possessed kid?" Rhonda said as she looked into her seatmate's hazel eyes.

"Yes," Damian replied, then corrected the pretty girl next to him, "but the movie was about a child that was the Anti-Christ, not possessed. It was called The Omen. You're thinking of The Exorcist."

"Oh, yeah," Rhonda said, realizing her mistake. "It was pretty scary anyway." The redhead looked around to see if anyone was watching, then put her hand on Damian's denim-clad crotch. "But you're not scary." Rhonda said then kissed Damian as she ran her fingers over the tightening bulge in his jeans.

"Make sure the chaperone isn't watching," Rhonda said as she worked Damian's pants undone and pulled the zipper down. Before she went any farther, she looked at Damian and asked, "You're eighteen, right?" Damian didn't speak, only nodded his affirmation of his age. Rhonda took one more look around, then fished Damian's stiffening cock from his underwear. Damian's eyes closed for a second as Rhonda dipped her head into his lap and took his hard dick into her mouth. Damian had masturbated many times, but the feeling of someone else working his shaft was incredible and he was afraid he wouldn't last long with that kind of stimulation.

"Rhonda," he whispered to his red-haired seductress, "I'm gonna cum... oh, God..."

She popped her mouth off Damian's dick for a quick second and quietly said, "Cum in my mouth, Damian. I want it in my mouth!" Rhonda went back to work on Damian's cock with her lips and tongue. Thirty seconds later, Damian could hold on no longer and he felt his balls clench as the fluids began to race up his shaft. He flooded Rhonda's mouth and throat with his creamy seed as the young woman tried to swallow all Damian had to offer. It proved to be too much for her and she audibly gagged loud enough to get the attention of the bus chaperone. Damian saw Mr. Aaronson, the high school geography teacher make his way to the back to Damian and Rhonda's seat. Damian quickly took Rhonda's ski cap off her head and spread her long red hair over his lap to conceal his deflating boner.

"Everything OK back here, Mr. Edwards?" the graying teacher asked as he surveyed Damian with Rhonda's head in his lap. The redhead had brought her legs up on to the seat and she now feigned sleep in the fetal position, her head resting on Damian's bare lap covered by her auburn mane, his softening cock still resting in her warm mouth. Damian put his index finger to his lips and shushed the middle-aged instructor.

"She's really tired," Damian whispered to the chaperone. A slight grin crept on to Damian's face as the teacher turned and went back to the front of the bus. When he was out of sight, Damian tapped Rhonda to let her know that the coast was clear. Rhonda popped off Damian's flaccid dick then helped him get situated. When the two finished zipping up Damian's jeans, they looked at each other then turned a few shades of red as they silently laughed hysterically while the others slept, and the bus rolled down the highway towards home. Damian and Rhonda never became an official couple, but they always sat together on ski trips and went to the senior prom together before graduation. Rhonda went to college in California and Damian never saw her again, but his love for skiing didn't end with her. Two weeks after his mother was killed, Damian made arrangements to have his home looked after and chartered a private jet to Aspen for some mountain therapy.

++++++++++

Damian's plane landed at Sardy Field in Aspen and taxied to meet a black stretch limousine on the tarmac. Puzzled, Damian spoke with the crew when the plane came to a halt near the car.

"What's all this?" he asked the pilot. "I didn't order any limo to take me anywhere?"

"We were told to radio ahead for a limousine, sir." The captain replied. "We apologize if it isn't to your liking."

Damian gave the crew a questioning look, then set them at ease. "No, it's fine. Do you know who I am?" he asked the crew.

"No, sir," the pilot replied, "but you're my passenger and I hope you were comfortable during your flight."

"Very comfortable, Captain. Thank you." Damian responded as he disembarked down the steps of the plane and walked the ten feet separating the aircraft and the stretch vehicle that would take him to his hotel in Aspen. The driver, a tall African-American man who looked to be a little older than Damian tipped his cap to his passenger then opened the rear driver's side door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards." The driver spoke. "My name is Terrence and I'll be your personal chauffeur for the duration of your stay here in Aspen."

"Thank you, Terrence," Damian said as he slid into the back seat of the limousine, "but who set this up? I didn't order any limousine?"

"I believe there's a note waiting for you, sir." Terrence replied. "Next to the champagne."

Damian reached for the envelope and saw the name of the conglomerate that purchased his company embossed in gold on the back. Inside the envelope was a gold-embossed card that read:

To our newest stockholder,

Enjoy your stay in Aspen.

Please check with your accountant

When you arrive at your hotel.

Warmest Regards,

Your friends at AeroSonik

Damian smiled at the note then popped the cork from the champagne bottle. "May as well start enjoying myself." He said as he worked the top off the magnum.

"Yes, sir," Terrence replied as he put the car in drive and sped off the tarmac. "Aspen is the place to have fun. The powder is excellent right now too. Perfect for skiing, sir. Your equipment arrived about an hour before you and is already at the lodge near your hotel."

"Good," Damian responded after a large swig of bubbly, "I plan to partake in a lot of skiing while I'm here, Terrence." Holding up the champagne flute, Damian added, "And possibly a lot of this too."

Fifteen minutes and three glasses of champagne later, Damian's limo arrived at his hotel, The Little Nell. As promised, Damian's luggage and belongings were waiting for him in his luxury room, The Walter Paepcke Suite. Damian called his accountant when he settled in and was shocked to hear what he had to say.

"Damian," the number cruncher started, "are you sitting down?"

"Well, yeah, Joe," Damian replied, thinking it was a strange question. "Why?"

"Remember when the representative for the company that bought AeroSonik told you that you'd be a billionaire by the time you were 35? Well, he was off by about three years. Your stock just went through the roof!"

Damian said nothing, only put the cell phone to his head as the news hit him like a sledge hammer.

"Damian? Damian are you still there?" the accountant's voice came through the sleek cellphone.

"I'm here, Joe," Damian finally responded after he corralled his emotions. "That's wonderful news, Joe. Do me a favor and keep it under wraps for a while, OK?"

"Sure thing, Damian," Joe answered, then added, "and congratulations, man!"

"Thanks, Joe." Damian said then pushed the disconnect button on his device. Damian poured another glass of champagne and held it up to the ceiling. "Here's to you, Mom... I made it. Wish you were here to enjoy it with me..." Damian drank the alcoholic beverage down in one big swallow then flopped down on the spacious couch in the sitting room of the suite. Drunk and overcome with emotion, he quickly drifted off and slept until the next morning when the light shined through the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around the perimeter of the spacious luxury room.

++++++++++

The Little Nell was the only hotel that had ski-in, ski-out access to Aspen Mountain and Damian had planned to take advantage of it. At 7:30am, Damian was schussing down his first trail in peace and solitude. Aspen may have been a fun town, but the fun apparently didn't start until after noon. Although the lifts were running, Damian was, as far as he could tell, the only skier on the mountain that morning, besides the Ski Concierges that nodded to him as he took to the slopes. Damian made three runs then rode the lift back to the top to make his fourth. When he arrived at the top, he noticed that he was no longer alone. A familiar-looking blonde woman in red lycra pants and top with a white winter vest and hat was also at the top of the hill but seemed to be struggling with her ski equipment. Damian made his way to the woman to offer some assistance.