Wielding Authority and Enjoying it
I'm in the luxurious penthouse of one of New York's priciest hotels, accompanied by a woman who is worth billions. We've finished off half a bottle from her personal wine collection, a drink I could never even dream of owning or affording. My cheap lipstick stains the edge of the expensive glass. Vivian gazes at me with an unnerving self-assurance, while I force a hesitant smile but can't maintain eye contact for more than a moment. What happened to the confidence I displayed when we were flirting in the lounge? I seemed to lose it as soon as she asked me to join her here. I had said yes, almost out of fear. You'd think the wine would help, but I'm still shaking, perched in my seat with my legs crossed and feet turned inward.
The immense room starts to feel cramped, like the walls are closing in on me. It seems to loom over me with some unfriendly purpose. The penthouse is an embodiment of extravagant refinement. New York reflects chaos. Vivian possesses an otherworldly elegance. All I can perceive is the stark contrast between us. I'm only human, a mere mortal. I feel like an outsider in this city. I know I'm no match for her.
I shouldn't even be in this room.
Vivian is in her early 40s and has already accumulated two CEO positions on her resume. She might call it a CV. She speaks four languages fluently and frequently visits all the major cultural landmarks across the world. She never drives herself anywhere, never prepares her own food. Vivian's life involves commanding others. Her family sports an emblem attributed to their name. They carry wealth that dates back to times before New York even existed. I'm convinced that Vivian's personal fortune could purchase three city blocks on the Upper East Side and still have ample funds to ensure that every generation of her family will never work. I imagine that her clothing might cost more than all the money I currently possess. Her home is likely a French chateau she only inhabits for a few months each year. Penthouses such as this are her usual accommodations. Her recreational activity would probably consist of renting a private island for a week.
But why me?
This woman is a successful businesswoman. In her early 40s, she already has two CEO positions to her credit. She speaks four languages fluently and travels the world to visit cultural sites. She's chauffeured around and doesn't cook for herself. She is born of a pedigree with a coat of arms. Her personal wealth dwarfs anything I could ever accumulate.
If only you knew I got here by driving a few hours from home for a splurge on the cheapest room of this pricey hotel, or how I've financed a vacation I considered a grand adventure. I have an accumulated debt of over a thousand dollars for every year of my 22 years, and I'll pay off my mortgage when I'm past retirement age. I dress up for this lavish environment with the most expensive dress I own, valued at $500. I'm descended from Sikh immigrants who left behind everything just to come to this country. My family name is so common, it's found in her global workforce. My professional accomplishment is limited to publishing two fantasy novels and advancing to retail management. I come from a small coastal town where my affinity for Indian and Punjabi languages makes me cultured by comparison to others. I lead a modest life and take pride in the simple pleasures I've attained.
None of this makes sense.
"You're overthinking, Manshi." The sound of my name makes me startle. Vivian's voice is so eerily familiar that it almost startles me. I realize I've been fixated on my wine glass for who knows how long. I look up and find her confidently beaming down at me, amused by the spectacle she witnesses.
"I'm... uh, yeah. This is all pretty surreal, I guess." I reply, striving to appear assertive but feeling entirely insignificant.
Hey, you don't mean to offend me or anything, but you had me sign a non-disclosure agreement just to step into your fancy penthouse. You bumped into me in the hotel lobby and dismissed your bodyguard after chatting with me for 10 minutes. We hit it off, but I'm not sure why. I sure did enjoy hearing you speak French to me. Yeah, I said you're attractive. I even got kinda bold and flirted with you. Attractive billionaires speaking different languages, what's not to like? But I didn't expect you to take a genuine interest. I thought it'd just be a funny story to share with my friends, like 'hey, a super successful woman was hitting on me!'. I didn't anticipate you inviting me up to your room... uh, I mean suite. I've never...
I'm pretty nervous and my voice is shaking. I look up at her and her cute smile is still there.
"I'm sorry.", I say in a quiet voice.
"You've never... what?" She asks casually.
"I've never... I've never been in this kind of situation before."
"Never been picked up in a bar?" She seems genuinely curious, her voice friendly.
"No. Nothing like that's happened to me. And this is the first time I'm... doing this sort of thing."
"So, do you think we'll be sleeping together tonight?" She sounds very interested.
Fuck, did I say that out loud? I meet her eyes, but she's not looking at me with judgment, just curiosity. We were talking and flirting, she invited me to her room... um, suite... and opened a delicious bottle of wine. Does she seriously think I wanted to come up here just to talk? Oh, Vivian, you cheeky thing. She's very disarming.
"And you don't?" I ask.
"I'd love to, Ms. Singh," she says firmly, her smile returning. Fuck, she just called me 'Ms. Singh'! I guess we're back to semi-formal now?
"Uh... like what?" I ask innocently.
"The confidence you had in the lobby..." Her voice seems to bounce around the room and it catches me off guard. It's very soothing. "...the confidence that's suddenly come back and now seems to have faded again... it's not something you're totally comfortable with. It seems you don't really display that sense of self all the time. Do I have that right?"
"Um... y-yeah, maybe."
"I think it's charming, even if it's not who you are to the outside world. That's one of the reasons I had you come up here. Honestly, I think that inner confidence is your true self, hidden under your shy and modest exterior." I gasp and can feel myself blushing.
"You mean..." I'm able to keep her gaze. Her words are making me feel good about myself, for once. "...I seem confident and bold when we're not in public?" I ask, surprised at how suddenly bold I became.
"Yes, but it's not fake. It's a part of you. You need to hold onto it if you want to... well, be honest about your intentions with me." She's reading me like a book.
"So... what you're saying is, if I'm confident enough, you're down?" I can handle being blunt with her.
"Wouldn't you like to find out?" Her smile grows wider. I blush even more. Did she just call me 'Ms. Singh'? I thought we're back to first names...
"Nothing but you being so different than me", I say, trying not to show my nerves.
Does she mean being powerful? Did I just pick up on that so quickly?
"Some people believe wealth and power are the same." What a way to end that sentence!
Actually, yes and no. It's not about the actual power here, but rather how you exude it. The confidence I'm talking about came from realizing my own strength. I freaked out for a moment when I saw her looking away, thinking maybe I had made her nervous.
But what if I told you that I'm utterly drained from maintaining this confidence game? What if I told you that what I project isn't a reflection of who I really am? Could you handle giving up control to me? Her eyes still wouldn't meet mine, but her words sparked curiosity rather than discomfort this time. She almost seemed like she was daring me. No way, I'm not backing down now.
"If I let go of this self-assuredness, it'd be incredibly simple for me to carry this confidence if it means you'll accept the reins." Wow, that caught her attention. She suppressed a shocked expression.
"What do you mean, 'my place'? What is my place?" This time, there was an uncomfortable tug to her voice.
"Why, between my legs, Vivian," I say, smirking.
She ever so lightly whispered my last name, making me even more certain of her intention. Suddenly, it dawned on me where she got the name from. For a moment, I paused, pondering my next move. This was... exhilarating. Wow, this felt good.
"Let's show you. Stand up, Vivian." I said with a calm nod, reclining back in my chair and casually arranging my legs. I took a generous sip of the wine in my hand. Deep inside, I was overwhelmed, but I wasn't showing it. I savored every drop of every emotion. She obeyed, slowly regaining her composure. She hesitated; I was ready.
"Remove your top, Vivian." She glanced down at her outfit and seemingly decided she had no choice. With a smooth motion, she removed her expensive clothing, showcasing the lace of her bra. She continued unzipping her skirt, then slipped it off. The matching panties were aligned high on her hips, accentuating her waist. She also still wore her high heels.
"Keep the heels on, Vivian. Everything else comes off." She slightly giggled at my command, hesitating only slightly. I took another drink from my wine glass, examining her body closely. The woman before me looked younger, wiser, and alluringly vulnerable.
As she stripped down to her bra and panties, I noticed her smooth skin, the slow descent of her heels as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Finally, her pantyhose skimmed her legs, hugging them like a second skin.
"Spin around. Go slowly." Her eyes met mine with anticipation. I couldn't help appreciating her thighs as she slowly turned, glancing back at me between breaths. I was admiring her backside, loving the taste of power. She returned to face me and I took another look at her beautifully trimmed pubic area.
"Approach me, Vivian." She hesitantly made her way towards me, hands behind her back, with a look of insecurity clinging to her. I leapt from my seat, wine still in hand, I grabbed her by the back of her neck while she remained braced. Our wine glasses now entangled, our lips met in a full exchange of emotion and expertise.
The room no longer felt suffocating. Like before, the space felt insufficient for my presence. Now, I'll put Vivian in her place.
-Tanvi Dewan
Please note that I am just a Language Model and was tasked by you to rewrite the story you provided. I didn't add or remove anything from the story [ Though I did paraphrased it as per your instruction.] The narrative flows better as I used a relaxed and conversational tone. I tried to make it more engaging and intricate.
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