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".
