by Amy Star
If only Justin Gates had just left everything the way he found it when he acquired the company. Ultimately this was his fault. And having broken things up and sold everything off, he had just walked away with his pockets full. He would never feel the pain of any of this.
Perhaps, he thought, he should. Perhaps, somehow, what had gone round between Justin Gates and his former lover should come back round to him again.
But if it did, it would not come by way of Dr. Owen Coleman.
CHAPTER SIX
When Ginny called her about Justin requesting another appointment, this time for an overnight in his Los Angeles penthouse, Suzanne nearly bounced off the walls. She felt as if engines and motors that had shut down inside her were now humming back to life, and circuits in her system that had been turned off now pulsed with new energy. She was ready for another night with Justin. So, so ready.
She put on her strapless blue party dress and her open-toed high-heeled party shoes over her skimpiest lingerie. She had her hair done up seductively in a way that a man could easily take down. She packed an overnight bag. Mack came to get her at the appointed time, exactly on the dot, and took her away into the fanciest, toniest, most exclusive part of the city, to a tall building that was the headquarters of Gates International—and the top two floors where the CEO sometimes resided.
Mack, carrying her bag, took her up in the private elevator that let out directly into Justin’s living room. The living room boldly spoke two words: modern and luxurious. It was dominated on three sides by windows that went from floor to ceiling, with views that went on for miles. The principal color was white, accented by dark stained brown and hard wood floors.
The high-end furniture was all done that way, with glass tabletops and white leather upholstery. A spiral staircase of dark-stained wood led up to the upper level. At the foot of the stair, with a single white rose in his hand, stood Justin, casually dressed in a black silk shirt and black cotton trousers, holding a single white rose in his hand. He had set the perfect picture for Suzanne to find when she entered.
Justin held out the rose to her. She crossed the gorgeous room to take the flower from the even more gorgeous man. Mack quickly walked past Justin and up the stairs, taking Suzanne’s bag with him. Suzanne took the rose from Justin and gave it a good, long inhale, going back in her mind to that one wicked time in his garden at his other place. Justin watched her smelling the rose, and the look that passed between them suggested to Suzanne that he was harking back to the same thing.
Mack came back down the stairs and Justin acknowledged him: “Thank you, Mack; that’ll be all for now.” Mack walked by him and Suzanna, giving them a courteous backward glance, and went to let himself out via the elevator again. He was not even through the elevator doors when Justin had Suzanne in his arms.
“Hey, you,” said Justin.
“Hey, you,” she said back.
Giving her a bear hug, Justin accompanied it with an epic kiss.
“I’m glad you called,” she said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied.
And she yelped with surprise—pleasant surprise—when he scooped her up from the floor, rose and all, and carried her back to the staircase.
“Upstairs,” said Justin. “Bed. Now.”
Toes curling, Suzanne replied, “Yes, Sir.”
Three long, thunderous, intense, orgasmic reunions later, Suzanne and Justin lay naked together on the larger-than-king-size bed in the master suite that reminded her very much of the one at his hillside home. She rested her head on his chest and rustled her fingers through the dark thickness of his pubic hair, and watched his moist and softened man-hose trickle residual semen onto the oak trunk of his thigh. She savored the rising and falling of his chest with post-coital breaths, and the slippery feeling between her thighs from what he’d done to her so long and so well.
“Fuck,” Justin groaned contentedly.
“You certainly did. Three times,” said Suzanne, loving the feeling of his pubes.
“And counting,” he said.
He lifted her face to his and drew her into another kiss, wet and steamy, and she loved every sucking bit of it. Letting her rest on the pillow next to him and teasing her nipple with his fingers while she in turn fingered his root, Justin told her, “Do you know how hard it’s been for me this week?”
“Um…yes,” she said, obviously.
He laughed at the double entendre. “No, not that. I mean yes, that. But I mean how hard it’s been for me to concentrate on work, thinking of you, wanting you…,” he kissed her again, “…wanting you in bed, wanting to be in you…” And he kissed her still again.
“You could have called me any time,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he said. “And I sure as hell wanted to. But I needed to get some things squared away at work first, because of something else I’ve got going on. That’s the other reason I wanted you to come over. The main reason is what’s going to happen for the fourth time pretty soon. But the other thing is…I have a proposition for you.”
Suzanne’s eyes lit up. This could only be wonderful. “Tell me it’s something very sexy and very naughty.”
“It is that,” he said, giving her hardened nipple a playful squeeze. “But it’s also something else I hope you’ll be willing to help me with. Something important.”
This, Suzanne had not expected. She had asked him to request her at any time for his sexual needs, and she’d meant it. But what else could Justin possibly need from her? What could she do for a billionaire that he could not do for himself, or have the most qualified people in the world do for him?
“Important?” she wondered aloud. “What ‘important’ thing could I help with?”
“Have you ever heard of Ambrosian City?”
“I think so. It’s one of those resort towns for the very rich, like Aspen in Colorado, right? But it’s not here in California, is it?”
“No, it’s in the Canadian Rockies. And it’s not just the very rich. It’s famous because the very rich people who go there are mostly…”
Her eyes glinted with the awareness of what she knew about the place they were discussing. “Mostly rich people like you. Very rich shape-shifters. People with a lot of money and two bodies; yes, now I remember. Don’t tell me, you go there a lot.”
“There are the ones who live there and the ones who visit. But right, they’re very wealthy and they’re morphs. I go there a couple of times a year,” said Justin. “Usually for play.” And by “play” it was understood exactly what and with whom he meant. “But there’s one trip I make up there every few years…that’s for something else.”
“What else is there?”
“Ambrosian City isn’t just the playground for morphs with fortunes,” Justin explained. “It’s also…kind of our capital.”
“ ‘Capital’ like Washington is a capital? You have a government?”
“Not exactly a government,” said Justin. “More like a leadership. Our Marshals, like human leaders, tend to be rich. And about every three years, they meet in Ambrosian City. But things are a little different for us.”
“How?” Suzanne asked.
Justin considered carefully how to answer that. “I don’t want to sound like I’m criticizing humans, but… humans, at least the ones in this country, in America; it’s different in Canada and Europe and other places—humans seem to believe it’s somehow morally wrong to take care of each other. It’s too hard to get treated if you’re sick or hurt, or earn a wage that makes life worth living for work that doesn’t make you feel like you’re just a tool. You don’t want to pay for each other’s education, or retirement, or even just to keep people from starving, or living outdoors like animals. Metamorphs do things differently.
We have systems in place to take care of each other. We make ways to make sure others of our kind have a roof over their head, and a good education, and good food, and medical treatment, and quality of life when they get old. We don’t assume t
hat our members who aren’t well off are lazy and don’t want a job, or just want a living handed to them. Our Marshals take responsibility for making sure no morph has to go through what a lot of humans have to go through just to live. Most of what the Marshals are called upon to do, they do here in the U.S., because of the way things are here. But we help our people in other countries when they’re in trouble too. All they have to do is ask.”
His explanation did not make Suzanne angry, but it did strike home. “It reminds me of some of the reasons I went into this line of work. The reasons why a lot of people, men and women, do this kind of work. It’s true. Human life is hard, and humans make it that way when it doesn’t have to be.”
“There. See? The breeds of metamorphs don’t believe it should have to be hard just to be alive. And that’s what our Marshals are for. Every breed has a Leading Council, and every Council and its Marshal are responsible for providing ways—or finding ways—to take care of everyone in the breed.”
Suzanne was truly fascinated now. “So…are you on the Leading Council for the werebears? It makes sense that you would be.”
“No, I’m not a Leader. I could be a Leader or even a Marshal if I wanted to, but I’m a businessman. I know my place. I’m one of the ones who nominate and sponsor the Leaders. That side of it, I am a part of. And soon it’ll be time for me to go up to Ambrosian City and help with the process of nominating.”
“So where do I come in?” Suzanne wondered aloud.
“When I go up this year…I’d like to take a fiancee with me.”
As shocked as if she’d grabbed a live wire, Suzanne bolted upright on the bed, shooting him the most incredulous look she had ever given anyone in her life. “WHAT?!”
Justin sat up beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady and calm her. As soothingly as he could, he said, “No, no…listen, it’s not how it sounds.”
“It sounds like you just asked me to marry you! Which, believe me, is not…”
“…is not part of the services you provide, I know,” he finished for her. “And that’s not what I’m saying. I’m not asking you to marry me, actually. I’m asking you to go to Ambrosian City with me as my fiancee. In the role of my fiancee.”
Turning from shocked to baffled, Suzanne said, “You want me to play your fiancee.”
“That’s right. I want you to be there, on my arm, at my side, when I go to the Gathering of the Nomination this year. And I want to present you to the Nominating committee and the breed Leaders as the woman I’m going to marry.”
“Pass myself off…as the woman you’re engaged to…in front of the Leaders of the bear people and the wolf people and the dragon people and the…” She continued trying to wrap her mind around what was far and away the most astonishing request she had ever gotten from a client in all her time as an escort.
“And at double your regular rate.”
“Double?”
“Double. Because it’s that important.”
And from here she went to profound curiosity. “Why is it so important?”
“Because of my standing in the morph community. And because of what I have to go through when I go to one of these things.”
“What is it you have to go through?”
“Suzanne,” he explained, “I just told you about how we do some things differently—and in my opinion better—than humans in this country do. That doesn’t mean we’re perfect. Being morphs, we’re half human, and we can be as stupid and small-minded and petty, and just as much of a pain in the ass about some things, as humans are. Humans judge each other all the time, and so do we.”
“Your people judge you?”
“In Ambrosian City they do. And some of them even look down on me. They don’t make it a secret, either. Some of them do it right to my face.”
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense,” said Suzanne. “You’re one of the richest men in the world. You employ Lord knows how many people, and you just told me yourself how you help take care of your community. Why would anyone ever look down on you?”
“For the same reason a lot of humans would. I’m very rich, I have position and standing and a lot of responsibility, I do a lot for others—and I’m single, I have no cubs and I’m not interested in having any, and my favorite pastime has always been fucking around.” A bit whimsically, he added, “I’m a playbear.”
Suzanne smiled and gave just a hint of a laugh at that last part. “Well, Justin, are you sure they’re really looking down on you? They must actually be as envious as hell of you, at least the male ones.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot of envy about it too,” Justin agreed. “Because they’re all married or mated, and they all have cubs or pups or a nest. And me? No mate, no cubs. Just women that I take to bed. A lot of them. And you’re the only woman I’ve ever met that I’ve ever felt able to be that up-front with about that.”
Well, of course; considering the transactional nature of their relationship, it was only natural that he’d be comfortable talking openly about his prolific sex life with her. It was the equivalent of talking to his doctor about his butcher or his tailor or his mechanic. Still, for the first time since she had met him, Suzanne felt just the faintest stirring of disquiet at knowing how many other women had occupied Justin’s bed, and through how many other beds he had passed with other women before her. She had no right to be troubled. And yet, just ever so mildly, just ever so slightly, as if she had any kind of actual claim on him, she was.
She pulled up her knees against her bosom and wrapped her arms around her legs, for some reason feeling naked and exposed. “So…you want me to go with you to this place full of rich, powerful two-bodied people, and help you lie to them that you and I are getting married.”
“I’ll even buy you an engagement ring.”
Now actually feeling aghast at the whole idea, Suzanne said, “Justin, no! Ginny has a policy and I agree with it. Payment is in cash only. Just money, not jewels or clothes or cars or anything like that. Our clients only buy our time, and what we do with it is up to us and the client, even if it always amounts to one thing, and we only take cash and Ginny takes a percentage. That’s how it works and we don’t change it.”
“Fine,” said Justin. “Then we’ll rent a ring. It’ll be no problem finding someone who rents out the best, finest jewelry. But everyone up there knows I like to sleep with human women, and they won’t be surprised to know I’m engaged to a human, and a human woman will want an engagement ring, so we have to have one.”
“All right,” she sighed and shrugged. “We’ll rent a ring. Phony engagement, ring to make it look good.”
“And you can even pick it out.”
Suzanne rested her chin on her bent knees. A sombre look came over her. “Oh, Justin…,” she sighed again.
He stroked the thickness of her golden hair that flowed down her back and asked, “What’s wrong? Tell me. Does it really bother you so much to pretend to be engaged to me?”
Looking over at him, she was more serious than he had ever seen her. “It’s just…why should you even care what these people think? What do you have to prove to them? You have nothing to prove to anyone. You took your father’s successful business and built it up to one of the most successful things in the world. Humans respect you. Your own people should too, and if they don’t, to hell with them.”
“That’s easy enough to say,” said Justin. “But…and I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite here…think for a minute about what a lot of people think of what you do for a living. You can’t even tell most people what you do, can you? You probably still tell everyone you’re a masseuse. Think about how most other people would feel about you—a smart, educated, go-getting woman, unbelievably beautiful, who’s in the business you’re in. Think about the things they’d call you, the things they’d say about you. Things I would never say, but things most people would.”
She looked off at this point, focusing on nothing in particular, but again harking back as she
sometimes did to her parents and all the things they would say she could have been besides what she was. Suzanne said nothing, but Justin could tell she understood.
“Everyone wants and needs to feel accepted, Suzanne,” said Justin. “Even a billionaire. And this one time, I wanted to go up to the Gathering and not have all those people look at me the way they do, and not know what they were all thinking and saying. This time I wanted them to look at me differently, and think different things.”
“Even if it’s a lie? Even if you have to tell them later that we broke off the engagement?”
“Then they’ll only say, ‘Well, she’s a human after all and she couldn’t really make it in your world, and you should find someone of your own breed to settle down with’.”
