Her Billionaire's Erotic Rules (#1 The Interview): Erotica (Erotic Sex Stories) by Anjah Cavalli Page A

mogul, for god’s sake!  And to
have him waiting patiently while some 25-year-old production assistant (and an
intern at that!) goes through her ritual of pouring a half cup of coffee, then
adding a splash of creamer, etcetera, was both mind-boggling and embarrassing.
     
    But the most unnerving element was
his appearance.  Handsome, yes, but his face had a weathered, hard-worn texture
and he practically radiated an aura of professionalism and yes, power.  And
this glow had diminished not one watt as he stood before me now.
     
    “Yes, I remember.  I had spilled
the coffee that day.  And you were so nice to me.  I had tried cleaning the
area and kept making it worse.  And you apologized and said that you were
making me nervous and left.”
     
    He laughed.  “Actually, I was
impressed with your poise under pressure.  I hope that the event broke the ice
sufficiently that you’ll feel comfortable today.  Why don’t you have a seat?” 
He waved his hand toward the far end of the conference table.
     
    Nora pulled out the chair and
pushed it in once I sat.  She took a few steps back and remained behind me. 
T.G. held up the file he’d been reading.
     
    “You have an impressive resume,
Rachel.  We’re glad that someone with your potential has come to work with the
network.  Internships are a valuable means of gaining experience before you
make that first career decision.  That first decision can determine a lot of
things about your future.  If you jump at the first chance you get, say, at a
local station in a small market, you might be setting yourself up for a long,
slow grind to work your way back toward a larger market or a network.  What are
your goals, Rachel?”
     
    I reverted to job interview mode,
hoping that I didn’t sound like it.  “Well, since starting as a production
assistant, I’ve become more interested in the production aspects of news
pieces.  Initially, I was more interested in the writing and I still am, or
possibly easing into facing the camera, but I think working behind the scenes,
organizing things, is something that I’d like to explore further.”
     
    He seemed to be weighing this
response before he spoke.  “Well, you should keep your options open.  I could
see you as an on-air personality.  You’re very attractive.  Don’t be shy about
it.  True, we do tend to favor a certain type of look on our programs.  What
was that Don Henley phrase, ‘Bubble-headed bleached blondes”?  He laughed. 
“It’s not my preference, by the way.  Our analysts tell us that men like having
the news reported and discussed by blonde, bimbo-ish types.  For the record, I
find brunettes, like you, much more attractive, especially those who wear
glasses.”
     
    I pulled at the rims of my glasses
as I flushed.  Did he really say that?
     
    “Now, the truth is,” he continued,
“that we have opportunities here that you won’t find elsewhere.  Why?  Because
I say so!  I can make it happen.  I’m not here to promise anything Rachel, but
I can say that I will give you an opportunity to leapfrog over your peers and
establish yourself in the Big Leagues, if that’s what you’d like.”
     
    I was awestruck and tried to find
the words to express my gratitude.  He held up his hand, indicating that I
shouldn’t even try.
     
    “I know that you’ve got the talent
and the drive to succeed, Rachel.  But I require more than that.  I have to
know that you’re willing to give everything you can to make this happen.  I
need a commitment.  I need your loyalty.  I need your blind obedience in order
for this opportunity to get off the ground.”
     
    I stood, ready to declare my
devotion and allegiance to this man but, again, he held up his hand.
     
    “Don’t tell me, Rachel,” he said
quietly.  “Show me.”
     
    Nora stepped forward and held my
hand.  She placed her other hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me
toward the conference table.  “Go to