Uncovering the BBW
S he hastily finished her work, packed her things and started the journey across the valley. Traffic was an absolute nightmare this time of day and she flicked through the news stations impatiently as the line of red break lights in front of her grew longer.
She didn’t want to be late. Things at work had been slow lately –not just slow, g lacial – but today they had a client. A solid week’s worth of work that would keep the company floating for another month.
But things going well meant getting there on time and after nearly an hour on the interstate that looked like less and less of a possibility. Their client was notoriously high strung. Not an asshole, like so many of the other Billionaire Playboy’s Dawn had worked for over the years, just high strung. On edge. Eager and excited, and there was a rumor that he could get a little bit annoyed when people around him couldn’t keep up with his torrent of ideas and plans.
They were all like that, though.
There weren’t any ordinary billionaires. At least she had never met one.
Ordinary people just didn’t do the things necessary to rise that high, to earn that much. There was always a catch. It was usually the ego. The flashing perfect smile and that tone of voice that just screams I’m hot shit and I know it, with just a little hint of I’m better than you’ll ever be. Those guys were the worst. Dawn could remember when she first got into this business, how nervous she had been when she met the first of a long line of wealthy men. How she had stayed up for days researching his profiles and public articles, how her legs had shaken all morning and how her coffee had left her nauseous and exhausted. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
He had been a total disappointment, of course. More flash than substance, his money a product of family connections and shady backroom deals – not innovation and diligence. But today…
Today was different.
She had been doing this job for 5 years now and her legs didn’t shake. She didn’t get nauseous or stay up all night like a little girl before the first day of school. She did her research and then she did her job, which was a little sad because while she didn’t know it yet, Mr. Cartwright was a genuinely intriguing man. The kind of man worth looking up to, a true Titan of the modern age who earned his station through sheer force of will and calculated consideration.
To Dawn he would be like all the others.
His Bio was textbook, larger than life. An array of pictures shot on ungodly cameras in exotic locations. A naked supermodel on his back windsurfing. Exotic cars, and the cheesy one of him standing on a shovel at some backwater charity event – like a man worth a little over 3 billion dollars would spend his time digging holes in the jungle. Then came the ballroom photos. Page after page of the tuxedoed man standing with celebrities and leaders.
And handsome. Lord, why were they all handsome? With all that money she guessed any man could afford to be beautiful, but how could you explain that bone structure. Being rich couldn’t possibly change the way your face looked, could it? She laughed to herself. Well if it did that would explain Cartwright. What the money didn’t do for his face, the million dollar exercise machines must have taken care of, because he looked like he belonged on the cover of a new superhero movie, not the Forbes 500.
He would flash his charming smile and hold her gaze just a little longer than she was used to. He would take her hand in his and then the verbal diarrhea would start to pour out. Platitudes and half-truths.
Goddamnit.
She slammed on her breaks and used the spare moment to fumble in her purse. She was looking for a pack of cigarettes but didn’t find any.
By the time traffic cleared and she pulled into the massive parking lot it was nearly two.
***
Meeting the man was hardly what she expected. She found him in the back of the
S he hastily finished her work, packed her things and started the journey across the valley. Traffic was an absolute nightmare this time of day and she flicked through the news stations impatiently as the line of red break lights in front of her grew longer.
She didn’t want to be late. Things at work had been slow lately –not just slow, g lacial – but today they had a client. A solid week’s worth of work that would keep the company floating for another month.
But things going well meant getting there on time and after nearly an hour on the interstate that looked like less and less of a possibility. Their client was notoriously high strung. Not an asshole, like so many of the other Billionaire Playboy’s Dawn had worked for over the years, just high strung. On edge. Eager and excited, and there was a rumor that he could get a little bit annoyed when people around him couldn’t keep up with his torrent of ideas and plans.
They were all like that, though.
There weren’t any ordinary billionaires. At least she had never met one.
Ordinary people just didn’t do the things necessary to rise that high, to earn that much. There was always a catch. It was usually the ego. The flashing perfect smile and that tone of voice that just screams I’m hot shit and I know it, with just a little hint of I’m better than you’ll ever be. Those guys were the worst. Dawn could remember when she first got into this business, how nervous she had been when she met the first of a long line of wealthy men. How she had stayed up for days researching his profiles and public articles, how her legs had shaken all morning and how her coffee had left her nauseous and exhausted. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
He had been a total disappointment, of course. More flash than substance, his money a product of family connections and shady backroom deals – not innovation and diligence. But today…
Today was different.
She had been doing this job for 5 years now and her legs didn’t shake. She didn’t get nauseous or stay up all night like a little girl before the first day of school. She did her research and then she did her job, which was a little sad because while she didn’t know it yet, Mr. Cartwright was a genuinely intriguing man. The kind of man worth looking up to, a true Titan of the modern age who earned his station through sheer force of will and calculated consideration.
To Dawn he would be like all the others.
His Bio was textbook, larger than life. An array of pictures shot on ungodly cameras in exotic locations. A naked supermodel on his back windsurfing. Exotic cars, and the cheesy one of him standing on a shovel at some backwater charity event – like a man worth a little over 3 billion dollars would spend his time digging holes in the jungle. Then came the ballroom photos. Page after page of the tuxedoed man standing with celebrities and leaders.
And handsome. Lord, why were they all handsome? With all that money she guessed any man could afford to be beautiful, but how could you explain that bone structure. Being rich couldn’t possibly change the way your face looked, could it? She laughed to herself. Well if it did that would explain Cartwright. What the money didn’t do for his face, the million dollar exercise machines must have taken care of, because he looked like he belonged on the cover of a new superhero movie, not the Forbes 500.
He would flash his charming smile and hold her gaze just a little longer than she was used to. He would take her hand in his and then the verbal diarrhea would start to pour out. Platitudes and half-truths.
Goddamnit.
She slammed on her breaks and used the spare moment to fumble in her purse. She was looking for a pack of cigarettes but didn’t find any.
By the time traffic cleared and she pulled into the massive parking lot it was nearly two.
***
Meeting the man was hardly what she expected. She found him in the back of the
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