Jewell looked at him curiously. “Relationship you have with her? What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of relationship do you have with her?”
He sighed, then reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. “We have one of convenience.”
Jewell said, “What are you . . . fuck buddies?”
He removed several twenties and laid them on the table. “Let’s just say when she needs me, I’m there.”
“When she needs you? So what . . . you’re, like, on-call for her?”
“Something like that.”
Jewell’s mouth hung open as she looked at him. Good-looking, fit, dressed in casual but expensive clothing. No way, she thought. She shook her head. “Does . . .” She paused, not believing what she was about to ask. “Does she pay you for your . . . your time?”
He looked at her, and, after a few seconds of silence, said, “Yes.”
Jewell got the chills. “Are you . . . a professional?” Her voice dipped as the word escaped from her lips.
The man nodded.
Jewell felt her stomach turn.
Her mother.
Paying for sex.
Using her father’s money.
She reached across the table and slapped her mother’s gigolo hard across his cheek. “Fuck you!”
The gigolo put his hand to his cheek and said, “My fee is pretty steep.”
Jewell said again, “Fuck you.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Just being upfront with you.”
Jewell shook her head. She was in shock and disgusted.
Her mother.
Paying for sex.
Using her father’s money.
The thoughts ran through her mind over and over.
Her stomach turned.
She got up and walked out of the restaurant. She had to get away. She needed air.
Her mother.
Paying for sex.
Using her father’s money.
She made a left out of the restaurant and headed toward her car. She retched, and paused in the parking lot, thinking she was about to throw up. Her mother was paying a gigolo for his time. She looked back toward the restaurant to see her mother’s gigolo walking out and heading in the opposite direction.
Bitch, Jewell thought, staring at his back as he sauntered away. He’d left her father’s money on the table. He had her father’s money in his pocket. Money that her mother had given him. Jewell grit her teeth and closed her fists tightly. Bitch, she thought again. She was using her father’s hard-earned money to get off. It was selfish and foul.
She thought about a girlfriend of hers who’d found out her husband had been having an affair. To get both the husband and his mistress, who also happened to be married, Jewell’s girlfriend had done something very devious and effective. Something that Jewell never imagined she’d be in a position to do.
“I’m not going to let you get away with this,” she whispered, and then called out, “Hey!” and took off after her mother’s gigolo.
The gigolo turned around.
Jewell stopped just in front of him and said, “She . . . she pays you.” It was a statement, not a question.
He nodded. “She does.”
“I . . . I want proof.” She was on autopilot, speaking without thinking.
“Proof?”
“When you sleep with her . . . do you do it at your place or a hotel?”
“My place. Why?”
Jewell nodded. “Just curious. Anyway . . . I want pictures.”
“Pictures? Pictures of what?”
“Of you two having sex.”
He smiled. “You’re funny.”
She didn’t smile. “I’m not cracking a joke. I want pictures of you with her.”
He shook his head. “You must be delusional if you think I’m going to provide you with snapshots.”
Jewell said, “I’ll pay you.”
“Pay me?”
“Yes. Five thousand dollars. And you won’t be in the picture.”
“And how would I not be?”
“The person who would take the photo would be a professional. You wouldn’t be in the picture.”
“Five thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Just to capture your mother having sex with me?”
“Not with you. You don’t exist. The man in the photo would be just another man.”
“You have a pretty sharp mind to come up with something that quick.”
Jewell thought about her friend again and said, “I know someone who’s done this sort of thing before.”
He nodded and said, “So you want to pay me to let a photographer take pictures. Don’t you think your mother would have a problem with him being there?”
“I assume you have closets in your bedroom.”
“I do.”
“Does she go in them?”
“No.”
“Then she wouldn’t know.”
He looked at Jewell.
Jewell looked at him.
Tre closed his eyes a bit. “How do I know for sure that you won’t put me in the picture? Or that you won’t go putting my business out in the street?”
Her tone no-nonsense, Jewell said, “This is about my mother. Not you. You’re just a male whore. You’re not important, therefore, you don’t need to be in the picture. Trust me . . . your highly respectable occupation is safe.”
“Make it ten and we have a deal.”
“Ten? No way.”
He shrugged. “I’m not the one who needs my services.”
“Your services? Don’t put me in the same category as one of your clients.”
“I have what you want and need. What makes you different?”
“I’m not looking for sex.”
“Not all of my clients do. Some just want my time. And isn’t that what you’re looking for?”
Jewell opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it. She wanted to rebut what he was saying, but she couldn’t.
“Look . . . why don’t you take some time to think about it. Your mother knows how to find me if you want to get in touch with me.” He turned to leave.
Jewell shook her head. He’d been right. She did want his time. Maybe not the same type as his other clients, but it was his time nonetheless. She said, “OK.”
He turned around. “OK?”
“I’ll pay you seven.”
He thought about it for a moment and then said, “Deal. But I want it all up front. In cash. Two days from now.”
Jewell stared at him. Asshole, she thought. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she couldn’t. Her father had always done whatever he’d had to do to protect her. She was his little princess. Jewell knew he’d put her life before his. She was going to break his heart. She knew that. But just as he’d do anything for her, she was willing to do the same. She said, “Fine.”
Eight days later, she had three sets of photographs that she could barely look at. She sent out two sets the next day.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. “But you had to know.”
Chapter 7
“Mmmm. Oh . . . oh, Tre . . . just like that. Yes! Just . . . just like that!”
Sapphire moaned and arched her back to swallow Tre deeper inside of her. She’d already had one orgasm. Another would be coming soon. And another one after that. As she’d been told, the man was gifted. Not only was he fantastically equipped, but he knew how to use his tool with precision.
Sapphire moaned again. Bit down on her bottom lip. Felt chills creep from the base of her spine, up her back, and over her arms. She took in a breath as he pulled her down and thrust upwards. It hurt so good he was so deep. She tightened her walls around his shaft.
Tre clenched his jaws.
He loved when they did that.
He thrust harder, deeper.
Sapphire moaned louder. Said, “Oh God! Oh . . . God, Tre!”
She leaned forward. Gripped his headboard with Japanese writin
g.
The headboard was a new addition to the décor in his condo. He’d found it online and had it shipped to him from overseas. He was heavy into Japanese culture and style. It was something he’d acquired an appreciation for during his stay in Japan when he’d been a communications specialist for the Air Force. He’d been told by countless fellow airmen how beautiful Japan was and how the women there were without equal.
How right they’d been.
He’d grown up in the callous, gritty, and oftentimes hopeless environment of the inner-city. After spending much of his youth heading aimlessly down the wrong path, he decided from watching a commercial on TV to join the Air Force. He needed direction, and, for some particular reason, the commercial, which he’d seen countless times before, spoke to him. He joined that day, and two weeks later he was off to boot camp. One year after that, he was living in Japan, having the time of his life.
The Japanese culture was so unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The respect the Japanese had for themselves, others, and the land in which they lived connected with him. Within nine months, he was speaking the language almost fluently. Instead of feeling like an outsider, Tre felt more at home there than in his own hood. The men never gave him problems, and the women . . .
To say they loved him would be an understatement.
They couldn’t get enough of his mahogany-colored skin. They treated him like royalty, catering to his every need, often before he even realized what his own need was. The women were demure and submissive, but he never took advantage of them the way some of his fellow airmen had.
Even though they never asked for or demanded it, Tre treated them with the same level of respect that he received, and this was one of the main reasons he was so loved.
He’d never had a problem pleasuring women, but in Japan, he honed his skills as though pleasing the opposite sex were an alternate form of jujutsu. Kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling, caressing, massaging, fucking . . . he took it all to another level.
He lived the Japanese lifestyle for three years, and when he came back home to the States, it was impossible to let the culture go, as it had become a part of him. His condo was meticulously decorated in a Japanese décor, and he ate only Japanese cuisine. He even listened to Japanese music, although his preference was still soul from the fifties, sixties, and seventies.
He’d met Sapphire at a Barnes & Noble bookstore. He’d been watching her for twenty minutes. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he could tell she was a potential. Her body language had given it away. She was a proud woman, but her posture sagged with depression and unhappiness. Unfulfilled and neglected; he knew those types of women very well. He’d learned to spot them during his time in Japan. Many of the women there had been abandoned souls as their husbands had either been complete workaholics who never made time, or were cheaters giving their time to someone else. Tre learned how to prey on unhappy women by giving them what they yearned for: attention.
Some men strayed in relationships because no matter how good the pussy was at home, they just couldn’t be satisfied. Others strayed because their wives had lost interest in sex. Women strayed also. Most tended to because they were no longer being emotionally or physically stimulated at home. Their husband’s lack of attention often pushed them into the arms of another man. There were wives, however, who were just like the men whose needs just couldn’t be satiated.
Even if it was only temporarily, women needed to feel as though they were all that mattered. Tre understood this. He also understood that women, whether they wanted to admit it or not, when ignored for too long, were willing to pay for a false sense of romance, however temporary it was. There was an overabundance of women in Japan who needed to feel a connection to someone, albeit fleeting. During his stay there, he provided what they needed and did very well for himself. When it was time to come back to the States, he didn’t doubt he would do just as well, if not better. And he had.
He’d been in the bookstore looking for his favorite author’s new book when Sapphire walked past him. One look was all it had taken for him to forego the book and follow her to the relationship section where she picked up a book that, Tre knew, would never help her save her marriage. From there she went to the café. Tre waited for her to sit down and get comfortable before he approached her, and soon after added her to his clientele list.
Now, Sapphire called out his name and tightened her grip around his headboard. “Give it to me, Tre. Harder! Hurt me! I . . . I paid good money. Fuck me! Show me it’s worth it!”
Tre grabbed the sides of her hips tightly and drove his dick deeper into her. As he did, he looked over her shoulder to his closet. Weeks ago, a man had been inside of the closet. A professional photographer hired by Sapphire’s own daughter to capture her infidelity. What the photographer had been paid, Tre had no idea, but he’d been paid seven thousand dollars to allow him into his space.
“Take me there, Tre. Ooooh . . . take . . . me . . . there!”
Tre pushed her up and then pulled her back down, his eyes still on his closet door. He was fucking Sapphire as he’d been paid to do, but he wasn’t really there. He was back in his favorite Japanese restaurant sitting across from Sapphire’s daughter.
She’d approached him and gone off with rapid fire questions about whether he’d known Sapphire had been married, before revealing that she was Sapphire’s daughter. The revelation had caught him by surprise. Of all of the scenarios he’d imagined possibly getting into in his line of work as a professional gigolo, that was certainly one scenario he’d never thought of. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened had he not gone against his own protocol that night.
His relationship with Sapphire was purely a sexual one. When she wanted or needed to get off, he would be there to satisfy and collect. That night, however, she’d begged for more of his time. Tre had pushed back initially, but when she offered to pay an additional two thousand, he acquiesced and agreed to take her out on a faux date.
He couldn’t help but laugh when Sapphire’s twin made her identity known. Same eyes. Same nose, though a little wider. Same lips, but thicker, more sensuous. Without question, she was Sapphire’s twin, only younger and much sexier.
He’d looked her over, admiring the cleavage that showed in the silk blouse she had on. He’d surmised that she was a C-cup, and wondered if her nipples were large or small, and whether they became erect when they were pinched, licked, or sucked the way Sapphire’s did. He thought about palming and sucking on them. Imagined what they would look like as they bounced up and down.
His eyes had trailed down momentarily, and even though the table was covering the bottom half of her, wondered if her pussy was shaved like her mother’s. Wondered if it was as tight or got as wet. He stared until she’d cleared her throat and shifted her position.
As surprising as the predicament was, it amused him even more.
Of course, she hadn’t found anything funny and proceeded to ramble on with questions about his relationship with her mother. Questions to which he provided answers. Something he felt compelled to do, although he didn’t know why.
After answering questions he shouldn’t have answered and giving information he shouldn’t have given, she stormed out of the restaurant. He left seconds later, chuckling to himself. He was on his way home when she chased him with a proposition that he couldn’t turn down.
“Oh Tre!” Sapphire cried, “I need this so bad. Give it to me! Give . . . it . . . to . . . me!”
Tre drove his dick deeper as he continued to stare at his empty closet.
A week after his confrontation with Sapphire’s daughter, he fucked Sapphire while the professional photographer took flashless photographs. Two days after the photos were taken, he received a set in the mail. His head had been cut off in each picture.
He thrust upward again.
Made Sapphire gasp, moan. Made her say, “Oh my God!”
He looked away from the closet and looked up at her.
Her e
yes were closed tightly. She was lost in the sex, oblivious to his lack of interest. He thrust into her again. Hard. She paid well to be fucked well, and when it came to money, Tre always delivered.
Chapter 8
One hour later, Sapphire walked out of Tre’s condominium complex. She was starving. Starving and exhausted. Tre had put it on her good. He was well worth the money she’d paid.
She tightened the belt of her leather coat. The October wind was biting. It was going to be a cold winter. She could feel it. She shivered and felt her body yawn. She was going to sleep hard when she got home. But first she needed to put back the calories she’d burned off in Tre’s bed.
Japanese.
The décor in Tre’s condo had given her a craving for it. Two blocks from where she’d parked was an excellent Japanese restaurant Tre had taken her to once before. She would hit the restaurant and then head back to her car and go home. She shivered again as the wind blew. She should have been cold, but despite the quiver, she wasn’t. She was still hot. Still burning from the sex.
Incredible sex.
Sex she couldn’t get enough of.
Sex she paid for.
She shook her head. Her association with Tre had been going on for six months now. She still found it hard to believe that she had any association with him at all.
She’d met Tre by chance at a Barnes & Noble. She’d been sitting in the café, sipping a cappuccino and reading a novel on relationships when Tre approached her.
“You know . . . that book won’t help.”
Sapphire looked up. “Excuse me?”
Tre pointed to the book. “You can read that two times and others like it, but it’s not going to make him pay any more attention to you.”
Sapphire stared at him. What does he know? she wondered. For some reason, something in his eyes told her that he knew a lot.
She said, “Sorry, but I’m reading this for a friend.”
Tre smiled. It was bad-boy handsome and made bumps rise on Sapphire’s arms.
He sat down across from her and said, “You’re beautiful, sexy, sophisticated, and engaging. He’s not stupid enough to cheat on you. He’s a workaholic. Spends every hour he can working. You eat dinner alone because he’s never there. You haven’t had a real vacation in maybe over a year. You and your husband used to be close, but now you’re like roommates or, at times, strangers. There’s no intimacy. You miss that. You miss being touched. You miss being kissed, caressed, and fondled. You miss making love. You miss being fucked.”
Betrayal Page 4
