Memoir: A Sex Slave | excerpt | Former title: The Billionaire's Woman

When I began writing my book perhaps two decades ago in order to cleanse myself of the stain of shame and to out my abuser Ira Riklis (son of infamous corporate raider Meshulam Riklis) - I named it "The Billionaire's Woman." When I posted chapters on my then blog (in 2009) and on another website by the same name Ira appears to have paid people to create hundreds, if not thousands, of fake posts with the same title. The words were jumbled. What I quickly realized was that he was creating content to push down google and search engine results. A strategy now known about because of Donald Trump's campaign and the interference. One of many dirty tricks used by these powerful and wealthy men who have every arsenal at their disposal to make sure their secrets are kept.

No secret is a secret forever and when his friend, Jeffrey Epstein, was arrested for the second time on July 3, 2019 I knew the window had been opened again. Newspapers, reporters, attorneys and all sorts of paid and/or hired hands - "Ira's operatives" kept any mention of me, my book and even my real estate business out of the press. Old articles of work I had done pre-Ira disappeared from the internet. Even articles, newspaper stories written when I was only 17 years old are gone. It was a mystery to me for a long time. But then it made sense. Making me disappear from the internet made it so much easier for him to continue to use his scare tactics to keep me perpetually quiet. Except that it didn’t.

The following is an except from my book:

One day in the near future Ira will confess that during that first weekend after we met, he dialed my number with fiendish frenzy over 100 times. And, that he’d snuck off to fantasize about me, after having lunch with his wife and children at Rumplemeyer’s, under the pretense that he had work to do.

Like a hormone crazed teenage boy, he holes himself up in his lavishly appointed private office on the 18th floor at the glitzy Trump Tower, where the family-run Rapid American billion-dollar conglomerate occupies both the 18th and 25th floors, and jerks off while thinking about me.

All around the city women my age are just embarking on their professional careers or their young married lives. Their world is mixture of work, boyfriends, weddings, babies, social outings with friends, newfound loves; along with the excited anticipation of everything new that lays before them. Life for them is predictable and normal.

For me, nothing is normal, and with Ira, I will enter into a parallel universe, freakier even than the one I have fallen into. For decades to come my life will be a series of one unpredictable event after another. What I do not know is that Riklis has already become the conductor of my life. For decades he will pull off elaborate behind the scenes machinations that will toss me about as if I were the shrunken Alice in the children’s fantasy book.

Copyright Kirby Sommers