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Mr. Whitmore was an investment wizard who had made millions in the bull market
run in the late 90s. He had all his money in tech stocks and had been smart
enough to read the signs before the March crash of 2000.
He had timed the peak within a few days.
During the major dips, he bought low and sold high.
In 2000, it was rumored that he had made in the excess of $200 million.
Mr. Whitmore was a powerful man who always got his way.
The only thing that triggered his libido more than money and power was pussy.
Schoolgirl pussy.
I need you over here, Miss Jameson.
Mr.
Whitmore would always get me worked up, but his interest wasn't in me. His
desires would run a lot more youthful.
He had a fondness for college pussy.
He probably would go younger if the law allowed, though he never did.
You see, he was a stickler for never breaking the law.
I don't think it was because he feared jail.
I think it was because he was afraid of legal defenses which would rob him of
his most precious resource, his money.
Um, slow -mo driver, can you slow down a bit? Oh, stop, please, stop, please.
Ms. Jamison, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up.
You know what to do, Ms. Jamison.
I'll be waiting.
Thank you, sir.
He would take me on these jaunts with him.
Basically, I was the primer that ignited the passion that lay within him.
He had other fish to fry, so to speak.
And fucking me wasn't on his agenda.
Instead, I was brought along to secure his desires.
A fresh college schoolgirl, preferably 19.
I was the one who made the immoral proposition.
$10 ,000 for one hour.
Some were angry and demanded to be let out.
Some began to cry.
Those were promptly put to the curb.
It was unbelievable to me, the number that accepted.
Unbelievable.
So what would it be, $10 ,000 for an hour?
What would I have to do?
Everything.
Will you pay me in cash?
Ms. Jameson?
Huh?
Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Thank you.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Oh, God.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Come here, come.
Come here, come down here.
Oh, yeah.
I'm not done coming. Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
Hold on.
I hope you are.
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