“And for the lady Sir?” the waiter asked as Warren looked over the menu and Lacey sat quietly beside him.
“Oh, she’ll have a salad, light on the dressing.”
Lacey hated salad… she’d rather have the fish or at least something that wouldn’t leave her starving afterwards.
“Very good Sir. I’ll tell the chef myself that you want your steak well done, brown all the way through.”
Lacey watched Warren nod and then flip the menu over to the wine list.
“Lacey, look this way…” a voice said and without think she turned towards the voice only to be confronted with the flash of a camera and a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.
Her hand quickly went up to her head and repositioned her hair a little as the man took another photo and then quickly made his escape.
Warren’s chuckle brought her attention back to him, the waiter had already left and there was a smile on his face, “I bet that will make the gossip rags for tomorrow.”
A smile crossed her lips against her will and then a giggle escaped them, “Oh my god, like ya think?” she enthused and then reached out and touched him arm.
Inside she was screaming obscenities at him.
Six months ago she’d been the CEO of a fortune 500 tech startup… well, technically she still was, but she hadn’t been in the office in weeks.
Warren was in charge now, her CTO and co-founder, he’d been the brains of the technology that had been turned against her, she’d been the brains that had monetized it. A new way of training staff in half the time traditional training took and with a near 100% success rate, but Warren had kept the best version of it for himself, the version that he’d used on her.
She let out a little sigh, she’d been on the cover of Time magazine, on the front page of the New York Times, and even done two TED talks.
Tomorrow she’d be the a laughing stock on both coasts.
This was the first time she’d been out in public in over a month. Gone were the business suits and corporate style, replaced with big hair, low cut tops, and a vacant expression that seemed to scream “built for sex”.
Which was the truth, at least now.
She’d spent the last few months at the gym, at the salon, at the plastic surgeon’s, remaking herself in to Warren’s perfect companion. Dumb, blonde, able to suck a golf ball through a garden hose, and an insatiable appetite for sex.
When their food arrived, she picked at it slowly, trying to draw it out as long as possible, as Warren devoured his steak. When the last leaf of salad touched the tip of her tongue, she savoured it for a moment before swallowing it.
A quick look too each side of the table let her time her next move so no one saw it, and she slipped from her chair and got under the table… it was time for desert and all she could think of was if the paparazzi might return while she was sucking Warren off.
Or even worse… afterwards when she’d be wearing his cum on her lips and in her cleavage.
