Unfortunately, none of you correctly guess yesterday's blind item re: which hedge fund manager pays his employees by sticking semen-soaked fifties all over their bodies. Here's another one, once again courtesy of Radar. It may initially appear to be slightly less salacious than the last, but once the subject is correctly identified, I'm sure we'll able to figure out his kink of choice, or assign him one.
"These sleazy banker types came up to us and asked if they could join our table," Heather recalls. At first she told them to get lost, but she relented after the men ordered a cheese plate and some nice wine. One of the guys took a seat next to Heather and, after some small talk, disclosed that he had just left his wife. "I'm looking to spend my money," he said. He was fiddling with a cash clip stuffed with $100 bills. She accepted his business card and later Googled him. The man turned out to be a honcho at a major investment firm; the New York Times had profiled a charity he had started.
The next morning she called his office. "I got shaky when he answered," she recalls, "but when he figured out it was me, it was better." That night she went to his apartment in Trump Tower. "It was pretty straightforward. He offered me $3,000 to let him fuck me. I almost leaped on him."