I know I'm not a particularly nice person. My therapist asked me to write this as a kind of confession, as a bad example of how I have been and to reflect on it. I mean, you might as well know right from the start that I feel I just have this tendency to exploit people. It was the way I would seek some type of happiness, or at least gratification. Perhaps, it's part of my narcissistic tendencies. I'm not really sure, but we're working on it. I am known as Oscar.
Maybe I inherited some of this from my father. He lived a very full life, if you know what I mean. A touch lurid, he indulged in his excesses and then died early, something my therapist says I need to be mindful off. He'd had my mother committed to an asylum and divorced her anyway, she eventually died of a drug overdose. What this meant was that I, as the only child, inherited his fortune, of some $10 million; along with three houses, cars, and his (my) company, which has a kind of monopoly on importing certain spices like Saffron, Grains of Paradise and others. He expanded it into many spices which were distributed by supermarkets, Australia wide. This meant that the business was pretty much self-managing, bringing in over 10m in cashflow and 2m profit pa.
So, I was a young boss at 38, and a wealthy man. I had been married for a few years, and I won't mention much of the children. My wife took them to Queensland, when I explained to her that she wouldn't be getting any of the capital. It still amuses me to think of her reaction at the time. She was gleeful at first, of course. Realising that she was going to live a luxurious life and then totally pissed off, especially when I explained I wanted to date others. Anyway, her parents lived up North, and I was tiring of her complaints. So I, quite generously, offered her a house up there in Queensland and a small stipend each year. She could manage the children's trust fund. I had no interest in seeing them, the boy and the girl, which my therapist thinks was cruel. I know me -- so I am not so sure life would not have been worse if they'd stayed around.
This story takes place a few years later, when I started to get really fucking bored. I always took my entertainment from manipulating other people. I had been a DJ, ran some gambling scams and drug deals and I was 41 or so. Anyway, there was this young accountant, I will call him George and he'd only worked at the company for a few months. He had come and asked me for a raise, for some help in his finances. He'd started talking about how his young girlfriend was putting pressure on him to try and buy a house. Somehow, they were $40,000 short of the deposit. It wasn't likely, on the 80k that I paid him, that he was going to save it anytime soon, and his girl was still at university. I told him to stop there and asked him directly about her.
He explained that she was a few years younger than him. So she wouldn't have been older than 25. She was doing a master's in marketing, after having completed a Business Degree. This interested me and I asked him bluntly what she looked like. He seemed pleased I was interested and showed me a picture of her on his phone. She was quite petite and what you would call Australian - Filipino. The thing I first noticed was that her hair was dyed blonde and kind of green, in the pic and I asked about it. He said that she was trying to change her appearance a bit, experimenting with being a little more outgoing. She had been such a shy Catholic girl and needed to develop her personality. She'd learnt about the need to be maximising your personality when you are marketing a product.
I remember smiling at the time and thinking that it would be fun to meet her, since I loved shy Asian girls and she seemed quite petite, which I liked. She also had a very unusual face with a kind of upturned more European nose, but then the full lips of a Filipino and light brown skin, like I might get if I tried for a suntan. I really had to meet this girl, she was quite beautiful.
So being the complete smart ass I am, I cut George off at that time. I told him that if he wanted to discuss his financial help advice, it should be out of hours and his partner should be part of the discussion. I could drop over to their place, one evening after gym.
On this particular night, I've gone to the gym, and I had been looking after myself at the time. I was pretty pumped and proud of my body. Just shy of 6 foot and pretty well built. I remember I had on a simple singlet and some exercise shorts, that you might wear for basketball. I didn't care how I appeared to them and did not shower or change. Although, I did use a nice deodorant and some manly scent, but you know, I actually like showing off my ... physique, to women and George was a bit of a short arse at 5ft 7 or so. I'm a bit of an extrovert -- perhaps even an exhibitionist. Since I inherited the money, I'd had an injection of confidence, as unjustifiable as that might seem. I bought over a couple of bottles of champagne and wine, a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of gin and all the mixers.
Since this is meant to be a type of confession, I need to admit that I bought all of that alcohol over in order to see if I could get either of them drunk. I'd also bought some marijuana and intended to smoke a couple of joints. I didn't even drive over myself. I took an Uber. You might ask, why did I want to get them drunk? I can't really tell you exactly. But I do like a drink myself and I find that people that don't do it regularly often do very silly things that I find quite hilarious. Women are likely to get flirtier, which is always fun and men are likely to get either more belligerent, or sleepy, and so I thought this could make for an entertaining evening.
Now I have to tell you that it was very hot in Melbourne on this particular day, it was around 37° or even hotter. When their the door opened, I saw that George wore a polo-shirt and dress shorts, sandals with socks. He was already fucking hilariously formal.
His girlfriend had on a little tank top and this tiny little white skirt which contrasted perfectly with her bronze skin. I immediately noticed, of course, that her small firm breasts were perfectly formed and her nipples showed through the red cotton top.
As soon as I entered George came up to greet me. His girlfriend, having opened the door, stood back. The house, I noticed was a small unit. With some stairs to what was probably a couple of bedrooms. I saw a door to a downstairs garage, powder room and kitchen down the hallway. A separate living space was to our right. He reached his hand out to mine.
My hands were full of all the alcohol, so I put one bag down and shook his hand. Then handed him the three bags.
"Take this special nourishment to the fridge, George." I instructed, as appeared flustered or anxious, "You can start making us some GTs."
He immediately demurred and turned and walked back down the corridor, possibly expecting us to join him. He hadn't even introduced his gorgeous girlfriend, which I found odd. But then being an accountant, he was a little unsocial. So, I turned to her, and looked her up and down and said ... and I remember it vividly ...
"You are fucking gorgeous ... aren't you? George is really fighting out of his weight class, isn't he? What's your name?" I had taken both her hands in mine and looked into those dark eyes -- a kind of hazel brown, her racial mixture was fascinating.
She just laughed. "Compliments are nice, but you don't have to exaggerate."
She couldn't have weighed more than 50 kg she was no more than 5 foot tall. But she was wearing little strappy heels, so her head was at around chin height. I took a step forward and immediately put my hand around her thin waist. "Give Oscar a hug. We should be friends."
I pulled her close to me and ran my other hand up her back, caressing the naked acre of succulent bare skin I could touch below her neck. She shivered a little and I could tell she was nervous, I imagined them getting all worked up to persuade me to help them. I squeezed her up against me, and I felt myself respond -- if you get my drift. I let my right-hand drift lower, under the hem of her little skirt and started squeezing her tight little bum, framed only by a small g-string. She started squirming a little, breathing heavily but said nothing.
"You still haven't told me your name." I whispered into her ear. My fingers were feeling her, she was so soft, her skin was like the softest silk, noticing she had a delightful thigh gap, which offered my exploring fingers further delights, as I ran my fingers along the thin fabric of the smooth little g-string. I quickly realised I could easily feel right through her thighs, and touch her pussy, she was so tightly put together.
"Annie," she whispered, giving a little squeak as I touched her.
She paused a bit, her head tilting to the side, as if wondering how she could respond without being impolite, I guessed. Then she pulled her hips up away from my exploring hand, although she was then pushing herself against my hardness. I realised quickly that the need to impress me, or perhaps her shyness, meant she was unlikely to object to my advances.
