The £100,000 + PA

I was constantly on a high. The whole bit of being around high-earning, powerful men, and the odd woman or two, was such a turn on for me. I loved it. The long hours, often sixteen or seventeen a day did not worry me at all, I lapped it up. I loved the cut and thrust of the meetings, the intrigue of the take-over negotiations, the preening and posturing of the executives presenting their budgets, acquisition plans or monthly financial performance and the sheer mind boggling sums of money that were discussed.

However, I did not spend as much time with Richard as I had imagined I would.

"Look Michy, you have to learn about the company, you are not too much use to me until you know about that and the people. When you have that knowledge you can help me with the company," he told me. I understood and bought that. "It will be a lot different when you understand the personalities and their motivations he explained.

It took nine months for me to gain the level of understanding that Richard required. It was worth it. Over the third three-month period, I started working much more closely with him and by the end of it I was with him most of each and every day. It was magic. I was moved to an office in the Gherkin that was next door to his with an interconnecting door; we shared the bathroom and dressing room not, I hasten to add at the same times, well not yet at least! In his private office in the Knightsbridge townhouse, I had a room upstairs to his. Apart from the Group FD, I was the only executive to have a room there and that made me feel special.

During those nine months, Richard had been the model of decorum with me. Not once did he try anything on or act in any way that was not in line with that of a perfect gentlemen, in some ways I was somewhat disappointed.

The private office in Knightsbridge was Richard's favourite working space. Whenever he could, he read his emails there and conducted meetings with the most senior managers in the downstairs conference room that was in a conservatory, which took over most of the garden. He rarely had meetings with customers, lawyers, politicians or prospective take over personnel there. It was almost as if it was his sanctuary that he did not want besmirched by the tawdiness of business. In addition to the conference room and the small offices there was a dining room and kitchen, several bathrooms and on the top two floors there were several bedroom, that so far I had not visited. Everywhere was immaculately decorated and furnished largely with beautiful antique furniture. It really was a superb work environment.

Richard's home was an estate near to Stratford-on-Avon, although he rarely got there unless he took the helicopter, but he was not keen on that mode of transport. Lady Camilla lived there with one of their children and other relatives. They also had a duplex apartment in New York in the Dakotas, where John Lennon had lived when he was shot, a villa in Cap d'antibes and a beach house in Malibu, Los Angeles. I often wondered why he kept them for neither he nor Camilla seemed to visit any of them and generally, they used hotels even when in LA, New York or the Cote d'Azur. I became involved in managing the properties with their enormous upkeeps. It seemed a waste of money to me, but then, when you are a billionaire and can spend thirty thousand pounds for the two of us to fly to the States on a private plane, I was having to redefine my idea of waste!

In addition to their Stratford UK home, Richard and Camilla, to who he had been married for over thirty years, had an apartment in Mount Street, Mayfair. Strangely, neither he nor she seemed to stay there, although it was just a short drive from the Knightsbridge town house. His preference was to stay in one of the two bedrooms on the fourth floor of the townhouse.

When I worked late in Knightsbridge, I was allowed to call up one of the fleet of chauffeur driven Mercs and BMWs we had on call twenty four seven to take me home; at that time of night the drive across London was pretty quick.

It was after the first nine months that I began to get know Richard. That was when I started to understand him and his motivations. People like him are not driven by money. It's like Nadal, Ronaldo, Federer, Tiger Woods and Spielberg. It's like Richard Branson, Philip Green, Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerburg. They have more money than they can ever spend, but they are still driven to achieve more success, which in turn brings more money and fuels the vicious circle. It seemed to me that they are all after the same thing, the thing that turns me on and makes me tremble, the thing I do not want, but wanted to be associated with. That was power; power, recognition, influence and fame. Richard had all of them in spades!

We were beginning to spend more time, together although most of the time others, finance directors, lawyers, managing directors and the like were present. We were rarely alone together. In some ways that was ok with me, for more and more as I worked with Richard I found myself being attracted towards him. At the same time, I got to know Lady Camilla. She was a thin, willowy, rather thick, typically English, middle class wife the type who for centuries men had looked on for breeding and not really for fucking, which was a British tradition. I felt sorry for her. I acknowledged, though that the sorry I felt would not extend to rejecting Richard should he make an advance; I might feel sorry for her, but I would still fuck her husband, if that was what he wanted, afterf all that was my job! With Richard, his power and work she was so out of her depth it was laughable. Although I had no firm evidence, nor did I want it, I had strong suspicions that he had a number of mistresses.

Now that I had the necessary understanding of the multi-billion pound turnover, global group and Richard had seen enough of me to feel able to trust me, often when we were both in London, we would work in the Knightsbridge townhouse, have dinner together around eight and then chat. We were becoming closer, much closer.

"You are getting on really well Michaela," he said one night in early November.

"Thank you Richard."

"It's true, you are," Richard said standing up and removing his jacket and tie.

When on business he always wore the same clothing; a dark blue, thin wool suit, usually Zegna, Brioni or Armani, a white or blue Eton or Van Laack shirt and a conservative striped or spotted tie. He always looked good.

"You have got to grips extremely well with protecting and organising me and you have built great relationships in the company. Everyone I talk to is impressed" he went on sitting down next to me on the green chesterfield sofa in the small dining room at the back of the ground floor, next to his office.

"Thank you Richard," I said feeling slightly nervous as I sat on the sofa. As usual, I was wearing a suit. It was a Marc Jacobs, thin mid-grey flannel with a darker grey pin-stripe outfit. The jacket had two buttons, both located beneath my bust line and the hem of the slighty flared, but tight across my full buttocks, skirt was just above my knees. I had removed the jacket earlier and was now sitting with him in the skirt and a white, Egyptian cotton, button up the front blouse, which had three buttons undone so that I showed a modest degree of cleavage. That was tight and a little on the see-through side for the formal and slightly conservative culture of the company. As it showed the outline of my bra quite clearly, I would not have worn it had I have been attending meetings, seeing clients or senior executives or going into the corporate office. However, as Richard had diaried this day for meetings between us and with Henry the group FD and Jonathan the Company Secretary and I would not be leaving the private office I felt it was ok.

"You have achieved your first objective Michy, which was conquering the inside, well most of it for there is still a little more work to do there...............," He said pausing. I tried to work out just what he meant, but could not quite get there, yet. He went on. "It will soon be time to take on the outside world. I will need your help to win new customers and make more acquisitions."

"How do you mean?"

"Michaela, corporate or group management is different to all other forms of business."

"Yes, I am beginning to realise that."

"I am not sure you do or appreciate how much much more personal, intimate almost it is over other forms of business, even electronics," was the rather worrying reply.

"What do you mean electronics?"

"Michy, you saw the dossier I had commissioned on you."

"Yes Richard I did."

"But you have not read it have you?"

"No, you have not given it to me."

He went into his office and returned with the dossier. "Here take it, but keep it somewhere safe, have a read, I need to call Marty in LA."

Tucking my feet up on the sofa under my bottom, I flicked through it. I was amazed at the content Naturally it had my working CV, Cynthia's reports and test and interview summaries, references from previous employers, my university and MBA results and all the usual credit and criminal records checks. It was the other reports that amazed me. It listed most of the men I had dated, both while I was married and since, indicated those with who I probably slept, had a two page description of my sexuality identifying several woman, correctly, with whom I had been intimate. It provided information on my visits to sex clubs in Copenhagen and it described a swinging group that Erik, my ex and I had joined in London, before the divorce.

There was a three-page report with photographs, thankfully none were sexually incriminating, of my affair with Gordon. That included times and dates we were in the offices late in the evening by ourselves, locations and dates of when we stayed in hotels together and a couple of photos of us at dinner.

One of Cynthia's reports caught my eye, it was entitled Sexual Proclivity. I was described as being mildly promiscuous with a developed attitude towards sexual activity. Some of the phrases in the report that I knew I would have to read in more detail later, hit home. 'Likely to see sex as a recreation.' 'Probably is easily able to divorce sexual activity from emotional or romantic involvement.' 'Unlikely to consider sex as a moral issue.' 'Will probably view power as an aphrodisiac.'

'In other words' I thought. 'My personality portrays me as a woman who is willing to put it around a bit and that I will drop my knickers for powerful men!' I realised that I could not argue with that!

As I heard Richard finishing up on the phone to the head of the film studio in LA it struck me that the dossier was Richard's protection against someone like me having an affair with him and doing a kiss and tell, not that I would of course.

"Skimmed it have you Michy?"

"Yes. I will read it thoroughly later. It is er, um comprehensive," I mumbled feeling embarrassed at what he had read about me.

"It has to be. Cynthia and I cannot make mistakes with people like you?"

"People like me? And what do you mean Cynthia and you?"

"I own ACS."

"Really, I have not seen any records of it."

"No I, not GSL own it."

"Oh ok."

"And we or, rather she, finds females who have the suitable personalities for men in positions like mine, if you get my drift Michy.

As he stood up and moved behind the sofa, I thought. 'Yes women who will fuck for power.'

He rested his hands on the crisp white cotton of the bloused covering my shoulders, just where the bra straps traverse my shoulders.

"Don't worry, neither Gordon or anyone will ever know that I know that he was fucking you for probably four years."

The harsh words hit me. "It was not just fucking Richard."

"No, I realise that, nor should it be," he said softly rubbing my shoulders just behind the collar bones. It felt good.

"What do you mean?" I asked glancing down at his hands and seeing the beautifully manicured fingernails resting on my shoulders.

"Gordon, like many men in such positions needs sex and are attractive to a certain type of woman. Getting the sex is reasonably easy as long as you are careful. It is getting that and a little more without it being a total commitment that he needs and that the women Cynthia finds are able to supply."

"You mean affection without love?"

"Yes that is one aspect."

"And are there other aspects?" I asked as his fingers slid down my upper chest a little parting the lapels of the blouse and touching my skin.

"Yes," he said softly as he slid them a little further, gently caressing my chest and upper rib cage.

The intimacy of the situation hit me and I could feel my arousal increasing.

"And they are?" I whispered letting my head fall back to rest on his wrists and arms.

"Being supportive, but not demanding."

I understood what he meant. It was after all the 'mistresses' charter' really. Be available for sex, portray love, but not be possessive. In other words let him go home to his wife and do not make a fuss or ask for too much. Let him fuck you and love you, but only when he is with you and then on his terms.

"Working very closely with men like Gordon" he went on, quite obviously avoiding adding 'and me' as he continued. "Calls for some very special characteristics."

He paused for a moment or two as his fingers slid a little further down my chest until the tips were just resting on the start of the swell of my breasts. I realised that not only had another button on my blouse come undone, but that also I was tingling all over with sexual arousal and anticipation. I wanted his hands to go further. I wanted them on my breasts and yes, I wanted them inside my bra on the sensitive flesh and aching nipples.

"Yes I realise that."

"I wonder if you really do realise it Michaela."

"I do Richard really."

I felt a tinge of disappointment when his hands left my chest. As he came round the sofa, he said. "And you Michy have those special characteristics."

As he sat beside me, I looked down. The blouse was gaping showing my bra, the tops of each breast and the length of the deep cleavage. With my feet tucked under me, the skirt had ridden up to probably seven or eight inches above my knees, so I was showing plenty of black nylon. With his knee almost touching mine, he said.

"What we do and the way we work Michy is all about relationships."

"Yes of course," I said feeling nervous, something that was unusual for me.

"So it is how we relate to each other and to our people that wins the day and keeps us putting into the company what is needed for continual success. You understand?"

"Of course, but other measures also count," I retorted, perhaps not being that wise to be disagreeing with him.

He leaned forward and looking me in the eye said softly as totally ignoring political correctness he rested his fingers on my knee.

"Yes but that's not your job."

I did not reply for I could not think of what to say. In any case, I doubt that I could have verbally formed my words so exciting was I finding the touch of his fingers on my stocking covered legs. Instead of speaking, I waited for him to continue.

"Michy don't worry your pretty little head about other fucking measures," he said looking at my short, slightly spiky blonde with dark streaks hair adding with a smile. "And it is a pretty head my dear and those glasses make you look even more er, if I may say so, sexy."

"Thank you Richard," I mumbled now becoming confused. I was wondering whether he was making a pass at me and more confusingly and worryingly wondering even more, what my reaction would be if he was not! 'But then' I thought. 'He has had his hands all over my chest, he has undone a button on my blouse and he now his hand is on my leg, of course it's a fucking pass!'

"Believe me Michaela," he went on, now softly, almost as if it was an unconscious gesture, rubbing my leg just above my knee. "It's all about developing personal relationships. Nothing more and nothing less, it is just us Michy. That's all it is. All the rest is down to others."

"Yes I see what you mean."

"And that means my dear how we get on, night and day. You get me."

I had no real idea what he was on about.

"Er sort of yes" I mumbled

"Look Michy you are earning the best part of a hundred and fifty k plus bits and bobs aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"I am sure that I don't have to tell you that for that amount I don't expect sort of."

"No right of course not," I said as confidently as I could as I watched his hand move round my leg and his fingers slide down the inside the tips being stopped my other leg.

"I expect for sure, can you do for sure?"

"Yes I am sure I can."

"How sure Michy?" He asked, quite pointedly it seemed to me sliding his hand a few inches further up my leg until it reached the hem of the pin stripe skirt.

I looked at him trying to work out whether he was simply after a quick grope, whether he wanted to fuck me or, whether this was some form of test. I did not reply for a moment or two, but I lifted my face and looked at him. Our eyes caught and we held the other's gaze.

"Well?" He asked.

"I can do sure."

"Are you certain Michy?" He asked inching his hand further upwards until it went under my skirt.

I looked him right in the eye.

"Yes" I murmured softly, my head whirring with the possible outcomes of this meeting.

"Are you really certain my dear?" He asked as I felt his fingertips reach the lacy, patterned, elasticated top of my hold ups. That made me thank my lucky stars for wearing them and not tights.

"Yes Richard I am" I breathed

"And you are certain you can and will do for sure for me and for others I may ask of you?"

"Yes Richard, yes I will" I gasped my arousal now almost boiling over.

"You do realise don't you that we, well I, chose you for this job because of the type of woman you are Michaela, a very attractive and incredibly sexy woman."

"No I didn't realise that."

"Well it seemed natural as I need an almost perpetual companion, night and day wherever I am in the world and you have a very understanding attitude towards sex."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, not really sure what he was getting at.

"You know full well what I mean."

"Richard I don't."

"Michaela please don't treat me like an idiot."

"I'm not."

"Then accept and realise that I know all about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Simple my dear. I know who you fuck and when you fuck them," he said reminding me about the dossier that had slipped from my mind.

"I am not er, um," I stammered not sure how blunt to be, but then bolstering my courage blurted out. "Fucking anyone at present."

"Not Marc, the fey young actor who lives with you?" He said very softly.

"Actually no, I have not had sex with him since I have worked here."

"Really, how is that?"

"Marc is bi."

"Yes I know that."

"Of course. He does not like penetrative sex."

"With women you mean?"

"Yes, well with me certainly."

"Anyway that is neither her or there, he is an irrelevance and someone you might consider moving away from, he can only be bad news or HIV!

Nothing was said as he softly stroked my stocking top with one hand and reached up with the other and pulled the lapels, which had sagged together, apart.

"And of course Michy there are two other reasons staring me right in the face why I hired you," he said smiling as he ogled my tits.

"I see" I said seriously, but then tried to lighten the mood with humour. "And I thought it was my brain and success in electronics that got me the job" I retorted with a smile.

"Well that as well of course, but then you know as well as I do that the brain is the most erotic organ in the body, don't you Michaela?"

"Yes Richard it is."