Lisa came with a thunderous orgasm, more powerful and pleasurable than any she'd experienced with her own equipment — though she wasn't sure how much of that was the penis and how much was Tina's skills in this department versus that of her ex-boyfriends. As she and Tina awkwardly redressed, she felt Matt's phone buzz in her pocket, with a text from someone named Tracy Milgrim. It said, simply, "Miss Hale, please stop fucking around and get in the car."
Lisa blushed and showed the text to Tina, who explained that Tracy was Matt Landry's executive assistant and — as far as Tina knew — the only person in Landry's life who would be aware of the switch. "To help make sure you don't wreck his company, or life, while he's otherwise occupied living yours," she said.
"I guess that makes sense," Lisa said, though now she became nervous at the thought of Matt Landry wrecking her own life — especially since she didn't have anyone back home who knew that she'd swapped places for the summer.
Tina led her out of the building, where a sleek black SUV was waiting, a driver in a black suit holding the door for her. "Welcome, Mr. Landry," he told her. "We should still make it to the airport with time to spare."
It was Lisa's first time being driven by a chauffeur, or riding in such a palatial car. She spread out the way she always saw guys doing it when they sat, then opened the file Tracy had left for her.
Her head began to spin as she skimmed the materials. Tina hadn't been kidding about how much detail would be in here. There was a long file about Landry's tech company, another about his wife Kelly, another about a mistress named Jacqueline, more about coworkers, friends, etc. It was too much.
"Is there a minibar in this thing?" she asked the driver. He smiled in the rearview mirror, and a second later, a panel opened up in front of her as if by magic, revealing row after row of travel-sized alcohol bottles. "I'm not legally old enough to drink," she told herself, "but who's going to know that?" She unscrewed a bottle of vodka and took a long pull, almost gagging on the taste but quickly enjoying the floating sensation she got from the alcohol.
Before she knew it, she had drunk three bottles and not made any further headway with the files, and the car was pulling onto a private airstrip, where Lisa saw two things: a shiny private jet, and a very unhappy — and very pretty — redhead who she could only assume was Tracy Milgrim.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
