'The Billionaire’s Woman: A Memoir,' by Kirby Sommers

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Kirby Sommers

'The Billionaire’s Woman' is Kirby Sommers’ long awaited memoir of her painful eight year forced affair with Ira Riklis, a multi-billionaire who counts among his close friends Vice President Joe Biden, Bill Clinton, Hillary Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, Ed Rendell and other well known politicians and celebrities. 

Kirby opens the book with a question: “What happens when a billionaire with the mind of a sex-starved teenage boy and no personal restraints sets his sights on one woman?” As Kirby finds herself ensnared in the claws of a sexual predator and becomes his sex slave, she discovers strengths she never knew she possessed.

“I have been writing and rewriting this book for over 15 years. And, each time, I felt like I was releasing deadly toxins from my body, from my soul. It’s like the psychological manipulation and all the stuff I had been holding onto inside of me suddenly exploded and is in this book.”

Sommers’ memoir is a wonderfully written cautionary tale, and an eye opening account of how sex slavery can happen anywhere – even in New York City with a seemingly well-respected man who did a dreadful thing.

Kirby states: ”There’s power in knowing you can expose your abuser, tell your story, and in the process help other women.”

Chapter One: The Call Girl and the Billionaire



What happens when a billionaire with the mind of a sex-starved teenage boy and no personal restraints sets his sights on one woman? Under normal circumstances the answer would be marriage. But, what if the billionaire is already married and is a closet sex freak?

The kind of freak who has a tissue box at the ready whenever a new issue of Victorias Secret arrives in the mail, has a stash of girlie magazines neatly stacked away in his office safe, and indulges in prostitutes a-la-Spitzer.

A pathetic loser, you might say.

Think again: its Ira Riklis, 54-year-old mega rich son of corporate raider Meshulam Riklis. Riklis is also a long-time friend and political contributor to Vice President Joe Biden, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell, former President Bill Clinton and disgraced New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, to name just a very few. And if birds of a feather ever flocked, then the last two names on this short list proves birds do.

Ira is the principal of Sutherland Capital Management, Inc., a private holding company primarily involved in the home-security market. A portfolio company, C.O.P.S. Monitoring, is the second largest wholesale monitoring company in the country. Combined with sister company, SafeGuard Security (an alarm installation, service and monitoring company), the recurring monthly revenue would rank in the top 50 companies (out of 15,000 companies) in the U.S. Additionally, stakes are held in other companies involved in home and commercial alarm accounts. Other investments include SNIP, a telephone and internet service provider, a hedge-fund consolidation company, a ladies-clothing designer and marketer, a ski-equipment rental chain, various real estate partnerships with an emphasis on strip-shopping centers, in addition to being part of his infamous fathers businesses such as Rapid American Corporation.

Some 20 plus years ago I was the woman Ira Riklis preyed upon, spied on, and coerced into becoming his sex slave.

Photo is part of a series I gave Ira Riklis as his birthday present on October 2, 1992

To read more:

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This is a note Ira Riklis sent me
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during one of my stays at the St Regis in New York City

One of several handwritten notes sent to me by Ira Riklis while I stayed at the St Regis Hotel on 55th Street and Fifth Avenue in New York City. Ira routinely requested I maintain a room at the St Regis because of it's proximity to his office on 57th Street and Madison Avenue. (During my California days when I'd return to New York to see him).


The Billionaire's Woman: Prologue


Telling my story about the man who turned me into his sex slave without dipping into history and sharing with you the story about his father, Meshulam Riklis, would be like inviting you to share a meal and presenting you with an empty plate.

In order to understand the way Ira processed information, and the way he manipulated me into becoming his property, you have to understand how his father built an empire in the United States by raping and plundering well known companies, destroying the lives of thousands upon thousands of people who believed they were sharing part of the American dream by owning pieces of paper called stocks.

So, for a brief moment, indulge me and follow me back to another time and another country.

Meshulam Riklis was born in Turkey in 1923 to a wealthy couple. His arrival into the world was two months premature, before his Russian-born parents, Pinhas and Bathia Riklis, could return to Palestine from a long planned business trip to Istanbul.

Pinhas, a graduate of University of Liverpool, was an export manager for the Jaffa Citrus Exchange in Palestine. Although he immigrated to the United States for quite some time, he passed away in Israel in 1986. Israeli newspapers carried obituary notices identifying Pinhas as a descendant of the Ball Shem Tov.

This is a claim also made by Meshulam Riklis, and if true it makes him an eighth-generation descendant of Ball-Shem-Tov, founder, in eighteenth century Poland, of the celebrated ultra-orthodox Jewish sect called Hasidism. It also means Ira is a ninth-generation descendant which brings a second well-known bloodline to this drama.



I don’t have a lot of time before the new guy Ira shows up. Normally I like changing the bed linens after every appointment. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, and I don’t feel bad about it, since Wellesley hasn’t really left any trace of having been here. I straighten out the sheets, plumping up the pillows, and quietly stand in front of my closet trying to figure out what to change into.
The black dress I have on for Wellesley is pinching too much across my waist because my tummy is bloated with my soon to come period. As I scan the neatly assembled row of outfits I keep in this apartment for work I spot dark violet strapless suede dress I haven’t worn in a long time. I yank the expensive dress from its hanger and put it on hastily.
Scrutinizing myself in from of the full-length mirror, I decide I like the way the dress shows off my bare shoulders, and my cleavage. It’s snug and cuts across my breasts sort of pushing them in and up, making them look higher and rounder and even more inviting like the women in those oversized portraits from the 18th century hanging at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 
But when I move the dress inches up my thighs because I’m bloated. I suddenly wish I would had chosen to stay home instead of coming in to work today. Sighing I go back to my closet to pick out another dress and quickly take a look at the clock. It’s almost 1pm so I should have time. My hand reaches into the closet at the same time the doorbell rings.
This new guy is annoying me already. I slam the closet door shut and move on to the full-length mirror that covers the bathroom closet door. I peer closely and examine my face. The mascara looks intact. No smudges. My lipstick however needs an re-do and I quickly dab hot pink across my lips the color of a bad bridesmaid dress and top it off with a little gloss smack in the middle of my pouting lips.
A girl never looks tired with gloss on. I drop both the lipstick and gloss back into the drawer and skip-run to open the door bent at the waist fluffing out my hair, which is long past my shoulders and stops only a few inches away from the curve of my derriere. If there is anything I have learned during the time I am a call girl is how much one can do in just one or two minutes. One hand grabs the doorknob and the other pushes down the impossible dress which is inching up my thighs again. I inhale deeply willing myself into my sex goddess role.

The door isn’t even fully open before Ira boldly pushes it past me and spills into my apartment.
“Well, do come in,” I say sarcastically taking a step back.
Not a good beginning for the new guy. He seems overly eager and it’s off-putting.
“Good to meet you. Sorry about barging in but you never know who’s behind you!” His high-pitched voice hesitates slightly between each word.
“Ahhhh,” he says for the first time shutting the door behind him and for a moment I think he is catching his breathe. But his “ahhhs” is how he speaks and his “ahhhs” are scattered with almost every sentence until I realize he isn’t aware he makes this sound when he is thinking about what to say next.
In the future when we would replay this scene in my real apartment, or at a hotel any where in the world, he would ask at times if anyone was hiding in the closet with a camera. It always threw me off and I always thought he was weird and overly paranoid until the day arrived when I knew with certainty that people were following him and that in time I, too, would be followed.

At first blush he looks every bit the well-fed businessman in a tailor-made navy blue pin striped suit meant to hide 30 or more extra pounds. His perfectly groomed wavy chestnut hair parted at the side is a stark contrast to his heavily hooded eyes surrounded by dark circles.

In years to come I will remember his first words to me: “you never know whose behind you.” Having been a trust fund kid born into the lap of luxury he was always worried about his kids being kidnapped and about all sorts of strange things I only saw in mobster movies. In time I would come to know that his father Meshulam Riklis was a shady figure who did shady things with really shady people, while amassing a fortune and who, along the way created enemies from the underworld to the White House.
Ira was familiar with all types of eavesdropping devices and different spying methods and had the habit of proudly boasting how his driver, Norman, would take a bullet for either one of his two little girls. I never knew if I was talking to one of the world’s wealthiest men or to a mobster with some of the things he gabbed about.

If I had fallen into the rabbit hole when I lost my way, and ended up selling pieces of my soul by the hour, Ira’s presence in my life, made me topple even deeper past any of the exit doors I might have been able to open. In decades to come, I too, would wonder who might be standing just behind me.

I double lock the front door and wrap my hand inside Ira’s meaty palm leading him to the sofa where he quickly unbuttons his jacket before sitting down. I can feel his weight on my left thigh because he’s sitting so close to me and instinctively I shuffle away, but he immediately places his big clammy hand on my thigh gripping it firmly.
His pants stretch across his wide thighs creasing the fabric and his belly pushes his crisp white shirt up and out from inside his pants where it had been neatly tucked so that he suddenly resembles an old tired man instead of the young man he is.
The routine with a new guy is vastly different than with a regular guy and I haven’t had a new client in a long time, so I have to be especially careful with him. He is moving too fast and I am intent on slowing him down.
“Ira, tell me a little about yourself. What kind of business are you in?” I cross my legs and catch his eyes following the line of my leg all the way down to my black Manolo Blahnik stiletto pumps.
“I own a couple of companies that aren’t exciting in the least,” he gives my thigh another unwelcome squeeze.
I place my hand firmly on top of his to make sure it doesn’t go any further and in the same sweet tone of voice I keep talking.
“What sort of companies?” I don’t acknowledge his hand on my thigh, or the fact that my dress has betrayed me by inching up even higher so that the top of my stockings, along with the black lace of my garter belt, with my bare flesh are now visible.
“Nothing special,” he is unabashedly staring at the skin between my dress and the stockings. His full lower lip dangles open. For a second I think he is going to drool saliva all over himself.
“You are certainly the most exciting thing that’s happened to me today. And maybe even for a long while,” his eyes sweep up mine again and a wide grin spreads across his full face making his double chin seem even more prominent.
There is no way this guy can be a cop and so I let my guard down and intently keep my eyes locked into his now twinkling caramel colored ones punctuated by dark circles and silently give him the green light.
“I love your tie,” I place my hand on it against his chest, wanting him to start feeling my touch.
“Uhmmm,” he purrs. “Ahhhh…..You’re lovely.”
“Thank you. Come on,” I stand and make another attempt at pulling down the hem of my dress. His presses his body close behind mine wrapping his hands around my waist so that it feels as if we are one as we walk towards the bedroom.
Tearing myself away from him, I recite the usual speech.
“Make yourself comfortable, and when you’re ready, please leave it here.” I softly tap the nightstand next to the bed. I never use the word money, not even with regulars, and especially not with a new guy. “I’ll be right back.”
I leave him in the room for about 4 minutes to give him time to take his clothes off and get himself ready. When I return I find him completely naked, sitting on top of the cover sheet. He is making a serious attempt to suck in his rounded belly. His big legs are bent at the knee and his penis is fully erect.
His entire demeanor tells me he has done this before. Many times. This is certainly not his first. I quickly spot both his black Calvin Klein briefs and his black socks sitting neatly on top of his clothes on the chair at the foot of the bed. And it’s also another sign that he’s a regular. He’s someone’s regular. And because he isn’t a newbie I naively believe he is going to be an easy one.
Crisp $100 bills are neatly fanned across the table and I ignore them.
His pleading eyes are glued on my body, and slowly I strut toward him. I stop a couple of inches away from his fully extended left arm with the tips of his fingers reaching out for me.  Silently I undo the zipper of my dress, which thankfully is on my side, and not the back, making this little strip tease a lot easier to do.
I wiggle a little and the dress falls down to my waist. I then wiggle again, and it glides over my hips and down my legs becoming a puddle of fabric on the carpeted floor. I slowly step over it. Only black lingerie, sheer black stockings, and my black Manolo Blatnik’s remain.
His eyes dart up and down all over my body, and when his eyes meet mine again, I can tell he is in the red-hot fire zone.
“Turn around let me look at you,” his voice is husky with desire.
I turn around slowly stopping midpoint with my back facing him and let him take in the perfect curves of my body.  My ass is perfectly round like a globe beneath my tiny waist. Standing perfectly still I turn my head sideways, narrow my Oriental-like tilted eyes, and flash him a cat-like glance.
Swirling back around, I bend down Playboy bunny style and pick up my discarded dress throwing it about carelessly about three feet away where it lands on top of his crisp white dress shirt.
Before I can even kick off my pumps I notice his plump toes are already curled and his fully erect member is visually throbbing which is in stark contrast to his perfectly still bloated body. His arms are rigid at his side and he is lying flat on his back, as if he were a soldier. Only his head is bent in my direction and his eyes are wide open – so wide open that for a fraction of a second I wonder if he’s ever going to blink.
I try climbing over his big belly to get to the other side but Ira wraps his big arms around me and pulls me down tight against him. My breasts fall onto his face. His thick hands reach up and squeeze them. His mouth opens and he sucks each nipple, one at a time, for several minutes evenly. Is he trying to please himself or me I wonder as I fight to retain my balance while stuck on top of him staring down at his wavy brown hair now in disarray.
To check if he is still hard, I rub my leg over his groin, and it’s still fully erect. Not wanting him to lose it right away I pull my leg away and try to slow him down. I push myself off him falling onto his right side and push his arm up so I can snuggle my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me.
“I love the suit you were wearing,” I whisper in his ear.
“Thank you, I love the dress you had on. Ahhhh…..Where did you buy it?”
“Bloomie’s I think.”
“Ahhh…I’ve always wanted to buy something off the rack. I always have to get my clothes made for me.” He says in a tragic tone.
“Why?” I free myself from his arms and prop myself up on one elbow.
“Well, because I have to lose about 20 pounds and nothing in a store ever fits me. So I’m jealous that you can walk into a store and just buy something. I can’t do that,” he taps his protruding belly.
My eyes follow his hand, and truth be told, he could afford to lose 20 maybe even 30 or more pounds. But then again most men aren’t in good shape. Just go to any beach and potbellied men in too-small shorts stroll by with no shame at all. A woman in the same physical condition would never go near a beach.
His full checks are flush and his eyes peer into mine. He suddenly looks very sad.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers caressing my face.
In response to his compliment, I run my fingers through his hair. It’s enough for him to pull me close and kiss me on the lips. We make out as if we were on our honeymoon instead of a pay for hire hour until I pull away and straddle him.
Pushing my hair over my head I crawl down his body while my hair and skin caress him like a thousand little feathers.
He quivers under my touch.
His penis begs for my attention. I ignore it and softly lick his balls planting small kisses along his inner thighs. When I notice the drops of pre-come on his cock, I flick my tongue gently along the sides of it and within seconds he erupts onto the palm of my hand.

Ira Riklis Finally Exposed

Brand.com formerly known as ReputationChanger.com

The following is from Technical.ly Philly dated May 4, 2015. The article finally links Ira Riklis to THIS website and to me. Riklis, with the help of Brand.com and its owners sent a FAKE DMCA notice to my ISP claiming copyright infringement of THIS website on April 23, 2015 -- using the alias Grace Vaughn. I then noticed the domain "thebillionaireswoman.org" had been taken although there is NO WAY to track the owner. I knew it was Ira Riklis's back up to once again attack my website hoping it would disappear. I am extremely happy that Riklis has been exposed. As he has been my stalker and harasser for close to 30 years. Read that as for MOST OF MY ADULT LIFE. Both online and in person. - Kirby Sommers / May 10, 2015
"But there's another company with a minority stake: Lydia Security Monitoring. The CEO of Lydia Security Monitoring, which does business as COPS Monitoring, is Ira Riklis, whom one former Brand.com exec had named as an investor.
Riklis himself appears to have been dogged by online reputation issues and now has a strange online persona. Attempts to reach Riklis were unsuccessful as of press time."

 
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On Friday, May 9, 2015 I became aware of an article on Technical.ly by Juliana Reyes with details about the bankruptcy of a reputation defender company Brand.com filing for bankruptcy.

The article named Ira Riklis as an investor and linked to my website: http://thebillionaireswoman.com stating: "Riklis himself appears to have been dogged by online reputation issues and now has a strange online persona."

Before finding the above referenced article I spent several days trying to track down a person who did not seem to exist and who appeared to be attacking my website thebillioanireswoman.com as well as some of my blogs attempting, in essence, to have them disappear from the internet.

For the record, and before going any further, I want to state that I have been stalked, harassed and terrorized both online and off for decades. Because of my history with Ira Riklis I have always suspected him to be behind the onslaught of never ending attacks against me.

On April 23, 2015 I received a Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) notice, via my ISP, regarding a claim that my website was violating the copyright(s) of The Secret Life of Billionaire Ira Riklis.

At 8:01am the same day I sent off a response to my ISP detailing that:



  1. The Billionaires Woman is a book I wrote. It is in fact, a memoir, about my life with Ira Riklis.
  2. I noted that throughout the years Ira Riklis (or someone who works for him) copied some of the content of my book and had it placed on his various blogs in an attempt to push down my content.
  3. Further, the title The Secret Life of Billionaire Ira Riklis is what I named several of my blog posts written in April 2009 in an attempt by me to try to defend myself against the Riklis attacks.
  4. I stated additionally that Ira Riklis hired reputation defenders and had used the same titles as I did to throw off whoever stumbled upon information regarding my book. He has done this for a very long time.
  5. I added that the information on my website is true and if it were not Ira Riklis would have at some point during the past 22 years sued me. But he cannot since what I have written about is the truth.



Although I have had many issues with most of the online platforms such as LinkedIn, Yelp.comCraigslist.org,Google.comBlogger.com Yahoo.com and other content based websites (as well as having information disappear from real newspapers such as The Daily News and The Mississippi Press) I always suspected Ira Riklis had a hand in the never ending onslaught of online problems hounding me.

After receiving the false DMCA complaint, I discovered the person who requested thebillionaireswoman.com website be taken down seemed to have a fake name, a fake address, a fake phone number and a fake website leading to a page where an article I wrote 'Meshulam Riklis: The Mo-Ghoul and the Latest Bankruptcy' was copied word for word.

It seemed bizarre as the article reprinted on the allegedly "actual" owner's website was dated December 15, 2008 which, if accurate, would have preceded the Rapid American Corporation bankruptcy by five years. The bankruptcy of Rapid American Corporation due to on-going asbestos and mesothelioma related lawsuits is a historically undisputed fact that took place in March 2013.

It seemed to me that the online stalking and harassment appeared to have changed becoming more aggressive within the last couple of months. So, for example, instead of simply trying to hide my content now they were trying to remove my content.

All of my content.

My landlordlinks.net business related content. My personal content on blogs and other platforms. Someone was doing something to erase all mention of me online.

For me that someone could only be Ira Riklis.

And so on May 8th, last Friday, I began an intensive online search to see if something had happened with anyone Riklis hoping to find something that would explain the recent events.

One of my thoughts was that perhaps Meshulam Riklis, Iras father, who is now 91 had passed away. If an event like this had indeed happened it might have triggered some media attention.

Instead I discovered the article on Technical.ly originally published on May 4, 2015. In the piece Ira Riklis is named as an investor and partial owner of Brand.com. I read and reread every single word and although I believe this wasnt an actual bankruptcy but in fact may be something else entirely I was elated.

For the first time in decades I was able to breathe again. One of my friends who I contacted almost immediately with the information said Ira is finally out of the shadows. He cant hurt you anymore.

Finally, there is a tangible item on a respected news source linking Ira to me. And the fact that it was a reputation defender company was too coincidental.

I seem to be the catalyst for Ira Riklis to invest in certain businesses.

His Lydia Security Monitoring, doing business as COPS Monitoring had its seed in a home security business, once named Alarm One, that Ira invested in after paying $150,000 to a former police captain named Dave who then owned it to find me for him in the mid 1980s.

So it did not come as a surprise to note that Ira had invested in a reputation defender company. For as long as I have been online he has been there in the shadows striking at me. So it was a logical investment for him as far as I could see.

I sent a thank you note to Juliana Reyes who has been writing about Brand.com in Technical.ly for a close to 2 years with the words Your article may have saved my life.

On May 10th another one of my blogs was attacked. I followed some information to chillingeffects.org and discovered original website had vanished.

Copyright 2015 by Kirby Sommers

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Kirby Sommers is a writer, a human rights activist, the CEO of LandlordLinks.Net and the author of The Billionaires Woman: A Memoir

1993-19931993-2015 Copyright Kirby Sommers
No part of this website can be copied in whole or in part without permission from the author. 

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