Chapter 8
"Throughout the majority of my life, I have been accused by certain female groups of pandering to men. Acting dumb, helpless, and weak, then hiding behind Doug when it came time to make my move. And you know what, they are not wrong. A savvy businessman or woman utilizes the skills they possess to achieve success. This is what separates the good businessperson from the great. So what if I did make other women look bad with my actions? The important thing is winning, and that is all that truly matters. As far as those female groups are concerned they can go fuck themselves if they don't like it." Isabel Cadaval.
-1998-
"God, these men were so boring," I thought to myself as I sat at a fancy table at one of the most prestigious restaurants in Paris. These men and women were all so dull. Well, when they were speaking in English, that is. It's truly remarkable what people are willing to say when they think you don't understand them. Unfortunately, for them, not only did I fully understand them, but they were helping me sell my dumb American girl act, much to the annoyance of my girlfriend, who was only too happy to play along.
Sure, she was playing along with the clueless girlfriend act, but that was only because I didn't tell her what was being said about us. Well, more like what was being said about me. The actual powerful men and women in the room had quickly dismissed her as someone of only slight importance. Regardless of who they were talking shit about however if I told her even half of what was being said right to our faces she would blow a gasket. I mean, really, who in their right mind would say in front of a potential business partner who was a lesbian that all she needed was a good dicking to set her straight. You had to be the stupidest person in the world to do so, even if the person didn't understand a thing you were saying. After all, the chances of someone informing them were high. Not that I minded what they were saying, however. After all it wasn't a man's dick, I had a problem with. I loved it when my girlfriend fucked me with a strap on after all. No, it was their overall appearance that I disliked about men.
Plus, I couldn't really take offense at what they were saying, seeing as these same men and women would be begging me to work with them soon enough. Let the fools talk. The wise, after all, knew when to keep their mouths shut. Like Bernard Jean Étienne Arnault, the owner of LVMH, which had quickly grown into one of the largest luxury goods companies in the world. The man had not said more than a handful of words to me throughout dinner while his companions talked obsessively. Showing why he was the boss and they were not.
People often forget the loudest in the room isn't always the smartest or most important. And that inaction can be an action all on its own, as seen in The Godfather when Michael doesn't act right away to fight back. Let people think you're weak, and when they think they have won, strike. Not that I planned to take on Bernard and LVMH on. I had no interest in the luxury goods business after all. Still, I wouldn't be against working with a guy who I was pretty sure had noticed that I understood everything being said around me.
While I was thinking this, Bernard decided to watch and take note of those he would either have to fire or demote after tonight. He always liked to think he hired the best and brightest to work for him. So why was it that nearly none of them noticed that Isabel understood everything that they were fucking saying? Granted, she hid it well, but the slight curving of her lips and amusement in her eyes told him loud and clear she understood everything. The only reason he wasn't bringing it up was because Isabel didn't. If he said something while she didn't, it would be an embarrassment not only to himself and his company but to the other notable people at the table.
Business was a combination of reputation and financial gain. Right now, he could tell Isabel was picking those she wanted to do business with from those she would tell to fuck off. Feeling them out, so to speak. She already knew everyone at this table wanted what she had. Buzzsaw, after all, was the best cybersecurity program in the world, and with cybercrimes on the rise, having it for protection was just good sense.
That, however, wasn't what everyone in this room was looking to get in on. By now, it was common knowledge in the business world that Isabel's company had gotten what was sure to be the first of many US Grants. In total, the US military had granted her approximately $20 million to develop an improved model of Buzzsaw, specifically designed for the US Military. It was not a small sum of money in the grand scheme of things, but for a company that was only 2 years old, it was a sign of things to come.
Yet even that wasn't what he was interested in. The majority of these people may be looking to either invest in or buy out of Isabel's company, but not him. That window had closed if it was ever open in the first place. No, what he was looking to get into was the very thing everyone else seemed to be ignoring. That being Starlight High Speed Internet.
While small at the moment, Starlight Internet was far from as insignificant as most people thought. It may, in fact, be more critical than Buzzsaw itself. Its offer of unlimited high-speed internet for a small monthly fee was frankly unheard of worldwide. Currently, there were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of internet companies operating here, but none of them had anything that could compare with Starlight, even if no one outside of Florida was aware of it.
However, while few in number, there were those like him who had noticed what Starlight represented. Some of whom were in this very room right now. Lucky for him, most of them were acting just as stupid as his people. Saying things they really shouldn't in public. Stupid of them, but good for him. He just needed to be careful about how he approached her.
Dinner was starting to wind down, and I was currently talking to a model named Gisele Bundchen, while my girlfriend was chatting with another designer. I really wasn't paying too much attention to who she was talking to at this point. After our first night in Paris, a lot of people in the fashion industry wanted to talk to my girlfriend tonight. That number had only increased as we attended more events. Always in the front row, wearing one of Ayah's designs and getting a lot of attention for it. At this point, it was almost a foregone conclusion that, by the end of the week, she would be a household name, or at least close to it. So, people were eager to get to know her, and not just because of Ayah's talent.
While the fashion industry was a big business, especially in France, it was not the real power players. No, those were the people who invited me to dinner and spoke with me privately. It didn't take them long to realize I was someone of importance, and thereafter someone to know, if only by way of my girlfriend, which was annoying because they took my girlfriend's attraction away from me.
Well, that, and it left me having to speak with either over-eager businesspeople or the fashion models who had also been invited to dinner. I didn't need to say who I preferred to talk with. While most of the models I spoke to were, for lack of a better word, brainless idiots, they were at least pretty to look at, unlike the businesspeople who were just stupid. Well, those who tried to speak with me anyway. The actual smart ones only ever exchanged a few words with me openly, and everything else was behind closed doors.
When it came to those actual businesspeople, it was like we were a couple in the early stages of a relationship, feeling each other out and wondering if we were a good fit for each other before committing to anything. Unlike most couples, however, we were also making plans to backstab each other if necessary.
So, with the actual interesting people sitting on the fence for the time being, I decided to talk with the models who, if I was being honest, were worse than those stupid businesspeople. I wouldn't go so far as to say they were brainless creatures, but they were not that far away either. Whether that was because they were over-specialized in just being attractive or simply idiots was up for debate. Still, they were more fun to talk with and flirt with than the others. If for no other reason, they were more than happy to flirt back with me and feed my ego. And yes, I am very aware I have a big ego.
Perhaps calling them idiots was doing them an injustice. Simple may be a better word for them. Because they knew the game they were playing and knew it well. To be a model or actress, you had to be ready to sleep around, maybe, or, at the very least, flirt really, really well with people you didn't actually like. Even with those of the same sex.
Take Gisele here for example. The young woman was straight. Hell, she was straighter than my girlfriend, who had thought she had no interest in women before she met me. Yet here she was, willing to flirt with me and ready to jump into my bed if it meant I could advance her career. Which I could, in fact, do, if only because of who she had seen me and my girlfriend talking to. However, as fun as it was to flirt, I had little interest in cheating on my girlfriend who would kick my ass if I did. So, flirting would be as far as I would take things. That is so long as I couldn't convince my girlfriend to have a threesome, which I was pretty sure wasn't going to happen in this lifetime.
This is where Gisele proved herself to be more interesting than the other models. Seeing that she wasn't going to get in my good graces with sex, she switched tactics. Unlike most of the other models, she had more to offer than just her body. Gisele could actually hold a conversation and discuss complex topics outside of fashion, despite being only 18 years old. She was smart and had wit, which, despite what most think, is not the same thing. After talking with her for a while, I could honestly see her going places.
"They are talking badly about you know." I hear Gisele says to me.
"Oh, I know," I say matter-of-factly.
Raising an eyebrow at this, Gisele says, "You do? Then why don't you say anything?"
Taking a drink of wine, which is legal here in France, I smile and say, "Because I am no longer in high school. Words carry more weight in the real world. Those who are not smart enough to keep their personal opinions to themselves when it matters are easy prey to those who do."
Hearing me say this takes Gisele by surprise, and she says, "You want them to talk badly about you?"
"I want them to believe I don't understand them," I answer.
It takes a moment for the young girl who was just a little younger than me to get it, "Ah, loose lips sink ships and all that, right?"
I smile and take another sip of wine.
"Are you not worried about your reputation?" Gisele asks. Coming from the modeling world, she knew how much reputation mattered.
Which earns a giggle from me.
"What is so funny?" She asks, thinking I'm making fun of her somehow.
"Nothing, just that my girlfriend asked the same question just a few days ago as I stood topless at our bedroom window," I say in amusement.
"You want?" Gisele asks in honest surprise.
I ignore this question and go on by saying, "Models, actors, eta. You all have to worry about reputation, but I don't. I am none of these. Tell me, Gisele, what do you know about me, and why do you think I am here?"
It takes Gisele a moment to come up with an answer. She honestly didn't know much. Other than that, Isabel was a businesswoman of some type from the States, but that was it. The bigger players were interested in her, and they had strong ties in the fashion industry. That was enough of a reason for her and others like her to want to talk to Isabel or her girlfriend, but past that, she knew next to nothing.
"Well, now that you ask, I can't say I know a lot," Gisele says, and that is an enormous understatement.
This earns her an amused smile from me, and I say, "Of course you don't, but at least you're honest about that. Right now, I am important to you by proximity. I am here, I am not a model, and when they speak to me in English, they are respectful. That marks me as at least important enough to want to get to know. To them, however, I am the owner of an up-and-coming company that just got a grant from the US Military for 20 million dollars."
This makes Gisele nearly choke on her wine. For her, that type of money was a lot. An unbelievable amount, in fact, but to some of the people in this room, that was chump change. My net worth was less than half that, in fact, but still it was impressive, considering that just over a year ago, I was worth less than $10,000. Now, however, I could be compared to the richest model of today.
"That is a lot," Gisele says, having not realized I was worth so much. Oh, sure, she knew I was rich, just not how rich. But what really got her was the part about a US grant. If my company were to receive a grant from the US Government, that would imply I have political connections. You could be worth less than a billion dollars and still be powerful if you had connections in the political arena.
"That it is, and no doubt they have heard by now that my company is about to get another grant for a further 50 million. Maybe more. I will have to wait and see how much the military wants my tech." I say to her.
That was a lie, however. The truth was that, after several months of considering the US Military, while interested in Starlight and willing to fund improvements, it was not yet ready to commit fully. Oh, sure, they saw and understood its potential, but were unwilling to give a small upstart company like mine more money than they already had. That and they wanted to see if someone else could offer something similar—one of their old collaborators, perhaps. This forced Doug to tell them that, in that case, he would start looking for private investors and cut out the military altogether. Not willing to lose out to the private sector, the powers that be in the military granted my company an additional $ 10 million for proof of concept.
Which would prove challenging but not impossible. I was, after all, already looking into how I would build a booster to the wavelength that Starlight used. Given today's technological limitations, it wouldn't be easily feasible, but it would still be doable. If I've guessed correctly, my team, which is currently looking into hiring new personnel for my growing company, should be able to build it within six months at a cost of approximately $ 6 to $ 7 million. Leaving me pocketing just over $ 3 million, as for Buzzsaw, its upgrade would be even easier. Really, out of the 20 million the military gave me, it would cost less than two to give them what they wanted, leaving me to pocket the rest. Let's also not forget that they would have to pay for installing it as well. A quick estimate on my part suggested that my net worth would reach 100 million by the start of the next century. Take away or add a couple of million dollars.
Gisele herself has to take another sip of wine at hearing this. She didn't like to think of herself as a gold-digger. While she wasn't nearly as intelligent as Isabel, she could do some quick math of her own, and if the US Military was willing to pay Isabel a total of over 70 million dollars now, when Isabel was only a year older than she was. What would they be paying her 10 years from now? Fuck Gisele could be sitting next to a multibillionaire in the making and was now wondering if it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let Isabel use her as a mistress or something for a few years. If only for her career's sake.
Before she can go too far down that road, however, Gisele hears Isabel say, "With all that said, Gisele, how would you like to come to the US and be my company's spokeswoman?"
Stopping all thoughts of trying to seduce the woman before her before they can take root, Gisele says, "You want me to come to America to be your spokesmodel?"
"That is right," I answer matter-of-factly.
"May I ask why?" Gisele asks. Her mind is going a bit into a spin.
Gisele wasn't saying no. God knows she wasn't. After all, Gisele was far away from being a top model, and while she may have just walked the runway at one of the biggest fashion events in the world, she was, in fact, being paid very little per show. Only around 2000 per show, and while that was more than most, it had her more than a bit worried about her career prospects. A cozy little job like that of a spokesmodel could provide some breathing room, so to speak.
"Honestly, because unlike these other girls, I have a strange feeling you are going to be huge in the coming years. Best I get you now, then when I can no longer afford you." I say with a flirtatious smile.
This makes Gisele smile. Though she knew what Isabel was doing, the fact remained whether it was from a man or a woman. Everyone likes to hear compliments.
"And how much are you offering. I mean, if I am going to be a big star soon, then I should get paid to match that, right?" Gisele says with a teasing smile.
I laugh and say, "Well, I have to talk with my CEO and the guy in marketing, but how does 250 thousand a year sound for the first year?"
Gisele shows nothing, or thanks, she is showing nothing, but it was clear to me that she was very interested. The amount I was offering was far more than a typical spokesmodel. I knew this because it had been talked about before. With Starlight Internet Services taking off, having a spokesperson was just the next logical move. A lovely and sexy one would be ideal, at least in my opinion. And wouldn't you know it, someone who fit what I was looking for was sitting right in front of me.
Though I had a feeling I would face some pushback from Doug, as we were leaning more towards hiring local talent. And we certainly weren't discussing the type of money I was offering at all. But it was like I said to Gisele, something told me she would soon be a household name, and it was best to jump on her now than miss the chance later.
Taking a calming sip of her wine, Gisele finally answers, "It sounds okay, but I have to wonder, does this offer come with no strings attached?"
I have to keep myself from laughing at this question and say, "Look over there. Do you see my girlfriend?"
Gisele does so, and I continue, "You're hot, but she is dangerous. I am not about to risk my life on having an affair."
I say this in jest, but I have a feeling I'm not that far off the mark when it comes to Ayah. The girl had a temper after all.
We both then laugh, and we start to go over a few more details that Gisele can take back to her agent.
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A loud bang was heard in the bedroom that I shared with my girlfriend. You know, you can say what you like about the seemingly random emotions of a woman. But when you are on the receiving end of a highly passionate and honey African American woman, you don't complain when she suddenly pushes you up against a wall as soon as you walk into your shared room and starts to tear off your clothes. I mean, really, this was the same woman who had more or less threatened to skin me alive if I got so much as a tiny little rip in my dress.
Ayah loves her work, and when I mean loves, I mean to a near-unhealthy level. Each one of her creations meant the world to her so if you fucked them up you could bet you ass she would want to fuck you up in turn. For her to be willing to rip her creation like she was, until I was only in my lingerie, Ayah had to be feeling hotter than a fire. Not that I couldn't understand why. After all, I saw her talking tonight with Jean-Paul Gaultier, Vivienne Westwood, and other designers. People who meant nothing to me but the world to Ayah. As many of them were asking her when her first fashion show would be.
The answer was soon by the way. I had already called Doug to arrange things. Again, he was not happy about me spending money like that, but upon hearing that Ayah already had buyers lined up, he backed off from complaining. That, however, wasn't why Ayah was turned on tonight. It was the recognition that drove her. At least I thought so.
In the United States, she was just one of many college fashion designers trying to catch a break. Most of whom would either end up teaching fashion or working at your local JCPenney. Of course, none of them had yet to realize that. Well, almost none of them. For those further along in their education, like Ayah, she knew the truth. Before I came along, her career would have most likely ended with a few pieces in the back of some low-end store and maybe a couple of local fashion shows. Now she was in Paris, and big-name designers were all wondering when her first show would take place.
This recognition wouldn't have come if it weren't for me, and a small part of her knew that. The part that was aggressively attacking my body with her lips and hands. Both as a reward for what I had done for her and as a result of her anger that she needed me for this to happen. Not that she would ever admit to that last part. No, Ayah was too independent to accept that little fact.
Now, a part of me was thinking about letting her take her aggressiveness out on me and enjoying it. After all, I almost always let her have her way. Playing the submissive girlfriend was fun most of the time, but not tonight. I was tired of feeding Ayah's ego, and was ready to flip the script—a simple task, as I was physically stronger than she was. Ayah was in great shape, mind you, but I was in tremendous shape. So pushing her back against the wall across from us is easy, as was ripping off her own dress. Followed by her bra and panties.
Leaving her naked before my eyes while I was still half-dressed. It was a power play, and one she got as I picked her up with ease and took her to bed. Tonight was going to be great. It was too bad we had to leave my sex toys behind at home when coming to Paris.
"Oh well, I doubt they will be needed," I think to myself as I get to work, so to speak.
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Hours later, the sun is about to come up over Paris, and a young woman lies awake on the naked breasts of her girlfriend. Looking up at the sleeping face of said girlfriend, Ayah had to let out a bated breath as a feeling of nervousness and worry filled her. Why was she nervous, some may ask. Well, it was simple. Things were moving too damned fast and she wasn't talking about her career.
This fool here. Her girlfriend, God, that was still strange to think about. The one who was blissfully asleep without a care in the world didn't get it. Isabel thought she was so smart, and she was if Ayah was being honest with herself. To a scary degree, in fact, but at the same time, was so clueless. No doubt the smug bitch had thought she had her all figured out. Most likely, she was thinking that the reason she was passionate tonight (yes passionate was a good word for it because she wasn't going to admit she was a total slut tonight) was because of all the attention she was getting.
That, however, wasn't why Ayah was so passionate tonight. No, the reason Ayah had jumped her girlfriend tonight like a bitch in heat, to her every lasting shame was because she was feeling jealous. Fuck it ate at her to admit to that but she was feeling jealous of that bitch Gisele Bündchen. She shouldn't be. Ayah knew that, but she couldn't help it as the girl wasn't just another pretty face, but bright too. Far smarter than those other models, her girlfriend had spoken this week.
When they first arrived in Paris, Ayah didn't have time to feel jealous of all the girls Isabel was talking to. She was too preoccupied with worrying that no one would notice her designs. And the next day, when it was clear that people had taken notice, she was too busy answering the local newspaper's questions and speaking with other designers, as well as business owners and others who were suddenly courting her for her designs.
This, of course, left Isabel on her own. Not that Ayah was worried about that, as she had thought Isabel would be too busy herself speaking with the more powerful men and women at the fashion week. However, Ayah had truly underestimated how these big shots operated. Talks between them and Isabel consisted of just saying hello, exchanging a few pleasantries, and moving on. According to Isabel, more was going on behind the scenes, but none of them were in a rush to show their cards.
So with that being the case, it left Isabel with a lot of time to talk with those she wished too and of course wouldn't you know it the horndog or bitch in this case picked the models. Yet even then, Ayah realized that Isabel was spending a lot of time talking with models, but she didn't feel any jealousy. The reason being that Isabel may not have noticed it (she hadn't even realized they were living together yet) that she had certain habits that Ayah had picked up on.
Like how Isabel could pretend to be interested when she either wished to or needed to. Having witnessed it several times this week alone, as well as several times back home. Mostly with her friends, most of whom were hot. Even before she realized she swung both ways, Ayah, like most women, could admit that much about a fellow woman. But as hot as her friends were, none of them had caught Isabel's interest because being sexy wasn't enough for Isabel.
Isabel had a type. She appreciated both passion and beauty. Drive and intelligence, and if you didn't have both, she quickly lost interest. Most of these models, while beautiful, were, in her words, boring creatures. Shallow with no higher thought process than looking as pretty as they could and finding a wealthy husband. There was no depth, and after 30 minutes, Isabel would move on, and Ayah meant that literally.
Thirty minutes was the amount of time it typically took Isabel to lose interest in someone. After those thirty minutes, she would find someone new to talk with, and there was no shortage of models for Isabel to chat and flirt with. So knowing her girlfriend as she did, Ayah didn't feel the least bit threatened. That was until tonight, when Isabel started talking with Gisele Bündchen. That girl actually had a brain in that pretty head of hers.
While she was still young and more focused on her modeling career, Gisele was also passionate about other things. Like environmental issues. Something Isabel was also interested in, and something Ayah never got. Gisele was also profoundly interested in humanitarian aid and donated to several charities, despite not earning a substantial income. Again, something Ayah didn't do or even really thought of doing.
It pissed her off that some little girl had more in common with her girlfriend then she did. And it really pissed her off when Isabel told her that she offered Gisele a job in the States. That was why she practically jumped on top of Isabel when they got back to their room. Ayah very well couldn't start a fight and come off as petty and jealous in front of Isabel. The smug bitch would just love that. So she had to show Isabel why she was her girlfriend and didn't need anyone else. There was one problem with that plan. Ayah had forgotten that while her girlfriend loved to play the bottom bitch she was no pushover.
There was little doubt she would be sore in the morning, and she thanked God they had left the toys at home. Really, Isabel was a sex fiend—too much to handle when she really got going. It was going to be a very long flight home tomorrow.