by Miasha
“I did it,” he said.
“Did what?”
“I arranged . . .”
“Arranged what?”
“I’m going to be leaving her soon.”
“Are you sure about that?” It wasn’t the first time he had made that claim.
“I’m more sure now than I’ve ever been. You make me feel safe, you know that? I finally feel like I have the courage to be without her.”
“Ferrari,” I turned my head toward him, “I hope you’re not using me as an excuse to leave your wife. I mean, this right here, what we’re doing, what we have, it’s temporary. The fact of the matter is I’m married. You’re married. We can’t really think it’s best to leave the people we made our vows to just so that we can have great sex.”
“Sex is the last thing I’m doing this for. If it were about sex, Tori, I would never leave my wife. She lets me, damn near forces me, to have sex with plenty of women. This is about my happiness. About my pride. About my security. About my life. My wife is incredibly abusive, as I told you—”
“Then why now?” I cut him off. “From what you’ve told me, she’s been abusive for years, before I came into the picture, so why is it that you’re so steadfast on leaving her now? It’s me, isn’t it?”
“It’s timing, to be exact. In the past I was living in fear. I had nowhere to go. I had no one to talk to about what I was going through. I felt alone. But then I met you, and without even knowing, you gave me back pieces of myself that I had lost. You made me remember that I deserved to be happy and feel good about myself. You came at the right time. Because I was on the brink of just ending it. And I saw your status: One is not wealthy until he has things money cannot buy. It rang so true. There I was for years accepting abuse because I was so caught up by all the money, the homes, the cars, the clothes, that I told myself, I could deal with a little bit of pain in exchange for so much pleasure. When in reality I was slowly deteriorating, selling my soul to the devil because I felt like she was all I had.”
I kept quiet, taking in his words like they were a medicine. I felt for him.
“But my eyes are open now. I want to be done. I need to be done. For my sanity, I need this nightmare to be over,” he concluded.
I stared up at him. I noticed a tear roll down his face and wiped it away. It did something to me more than his words. I had never seen a grown man cry about being treated so badly by a woman. I was used to it being the other way around. My emotions were getting intense. I had already developed basic feelings for Ferrari over the course of our online relationship, and then the chemistry that sparked between us when we had sex for the first time had heightened them. Now, I was getting to see his vulnerability, his desperate cry for help, and it was making me want to give him all of me. I hugged him—well, squeezed him. I cried with him.
“I love you, Tori,” he said tearfully. “And I hope you love me the same because what I am about to do is for us. It’s for us to go off and start a new life together. We will have a nice sum of money to go wherever in the world you want to go, to disappear and begin a brand-new life. But I need you to be in this with me.”
A tingling sensation crept up and down my spine. I had a feeling I knew what Ferrari had called me there for—what he’d arranged. But I didn’t respond. I didn’t say I was on board, yet I didn’t say I wasn’t. I actually had the nerve to not know what I wanted to do. I even thought for a second that what he had planned was the best outcome. I mean, for all of what his wife had done to him since he was just a teenager, maybe she deserved what he had up his sleeve . . . But wait a minute, what was I thinking? Who had I become to condone such a thing? Could I love Ferrari that much? I became frightened. I felt like I had made a big mistake. It was time for me to get back home, where I belonged.
JuJu & Ferrari
“I’m back,” JuJu sang dryly as she walked into the office of her friend, Private Investigator Mike Schwartz.
“And why so? You haven’t figured out by now that the boy loves you?” the gray-haired, bespectacled man asked.
He stood up from behind his desk to greet JuJu with a hug and kiss on each cheek.
“Love has nothing to do with it,” JuJu said, as she took a seat.
Mike sat back down. “What’s going on?” He folded his hands under his chin.
“There’s definitely someone else. And this time there’s some real merit behind my suspicions.”
“What would that be?”
JuJu took a deep breath and in a victim’s pitch she explained, “I’m almost positive he’s having sex with a woman behind my back. He texts a lot in the middle of the night while he thinks I’m asleep. And in the morning when I check his phone there are no messages during the hour that I saw him texting, so I know he’s deleting them. And the straw that broke the camel’s hump—”
“Back,” Mike corrected her.
“What?”
“The saying goes, the straw that broke the camel’s back, not hump,” he clarified.
JuJu huffed with frustration. “Back, hump, it’s all the same. The straw that broke it was that he didn’t come home last night.” JuJu’s eyes narrowed with anger. “I think he’s planning to leave me, to divorce me and take all of what I worked so hard for so that he and this girl can go off and live happily ever after on my dime. And I won’t stand by idly while he plans his escape.”
“Judith,” Mike said, “do you think you’re overreacting? Just a little bit? I mean, where is the evidence of all this?”
“That’s what you’re going to get,” JuJu snapped. “I want you to track his conversations and his movements.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m starting to think you have too much money to know what to do with.”
“Trust me, I can think of a million better things to waste my money on than paying you to spy on my husband. I’m not here to spend my money. I’m here to protect my money.”
“All right,” Mike sighed and frowned, “I’ll bill you.”
“And why the pitiful face at getting paid to do what you get paid to do? Shouldn’t it put a smile on your face to see me walk through that door?”
“You’ve been my friend for thirty years, Judith—though I’m never happy to see you walk through that door.”
JuJu blushed, but very briefly, then stood up. “Well, anything you need from me, you let me know. Charge the card that’s on file. And start today.”
“Will do,” Mike said, standing to walk her out of the office. “I’ll have some preliminary information by the end of the week.”
“Good.” She kissed Mike on the cheek.
He opened the door for her and she walked out. He watched her get in her car, start it up, and back out of the parking space that might as well have had her name painted on it.
Lyssa & Jacob
Jake and I were in Vegas for the annual Adult Entertainment Expo, the largest sex convention in the world. All the festivities were happening at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino so we went through PanacheReport.com, a prestigious concierge company, to book a suite there plus VIP tickets to all the hottest parties and events coordinated with the convention. We hadn’t been in two years so we went all out.
Opening and running the club kept us too busy for leisure vacations like this. But after the bombshell Morgan had dropped on us earlier that month, we could use the downtime. This was also the perfect opportunity to interview our new prospective live-in.
Jake found this one. He insisted on doing the research. He went on the site, scoped out all the options, and made all the calls. After prescreening four candidates, he found one who fit perfect with what we were looking for—single, no children, didn’t smoke, drink or do any drugs, and was in school. We liked students because they seemed to have good heads on their shoulders. We stayed away from party animals because they drew too much attention to themselves and therefore to us.
Jake arranged for the girl to fly to Vegas and meet us at our hotel room the last day of the convention. If all went we
ll at the interview, we would buy her a plane ticket to Atlanta and move her in with us within several weeks.
We slept in that last day. Attending close to one hundred presentations, trying to meet and greet about three hundred of the top adult stars in the business, watching stage performances and musical acts and going to endless parties, left us exhausted. But we had a ball and did a good deal of networking.
* * *
The concierge rang the hotel room phone at noon as I had instructed them to do the night before. I answered it.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Banner,” the voice said, “this is your wake-up call.”
“Thank you,” I muttered. Even at twelve in the afternoon I felt like it was too early for me to be getting up. But I had to. Our new girl would be there at two.
“Jake,” I shoved his arm a little, “wake up.”
He hesitated.
“It’s twelve o’clock. We still have to eat, get dressed, and let the housekeeper come clean this room before she gets here.”
He turned on his back, stretched his arms above his head, and opened his eyes. “I’m up,” he groaned.
We ordered room service. While we waited for it to come, we both showered. Jake was just about dressed by the time the food arrived. I was still in the complimentary robe applying my makeup.
We ate and watched world news. I took that time to probe Jake more about this girl he had found all on his own.
“So does she seem my type?”
“Yeah, from what I could tell.”
“What do you mean, from what you could tell? Was she pretty or not?”
“She looked good to me,” he said, stuffing his mouth.
“Let me see her picture.” He didn’t sound sure enough for me.
“What picture?” he asked, chewing. “The one on her profile?”
“No,” I said, “those profile pics are always cropped at the neck. Didn’t you ask her to e-mail you some additional pictures so you could actually see her face and not just her body?”
Jake almost choked on his food. He sipped his juice. “You do all that?” His face wrinkled with confusion.
“Of course!” I squealed.
“I just figured we’d see her in person and make our decision then.”
I shook my head. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, I thought.
We had finished our food and were fully dressed by one. We killed time on the strip to give the housekeeper a chance to clean our room. It was perfect weather, not sweltering hot like Vegas was known for. That was the good thing about going during the winter months—it was comfortable.
Jake got a call at one-thirty. The girl was headed to our hotel from where she was staying by the airport.
“You gave her your cell number?” Another mistake, I thought.
“I know that you’re not supposed to give your number. I had the hotel calls forwarded.”
“Oh,” I said, relieved, just slightly. We still had to see how this girl looked. If she was a turn-off, all of this would have been a sizable waste of time and money.
We got back to the room, freshened up a bit, and waited for the knock on the door. I was anxious, though Jake seemed pretty cool. But that was just how he was. Sometimes I questioned whether this was still fun for him.
Knock knock knock.
I looked at Jake. He looked back at me, a slight grin formed across his lips. He got up and walked to the door. Without even looking through the peephole, he opened it.
I was sitting on the couch against the same wall the door opened on. So from where I was, I could see the girl when Jake opened the door. And nothing could have prepared me for that sight.
“ALEXANDRIA?” I stood up.
“Ba-by?” Jake could hardly muster the words.
“Mommy, Daddy?” Our twenty-year-old daughter backed away shamefully.
“Get in here,” I demanded, walking toward the door.
Jake was in shock. He just stood holding the door, his jaw on the floor. I was pissed.
She walked into our room, slowly. She was terrified. She had to have been. I was myself.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?” I asked her.
“What are y’all doin’ here?” she shot back, tears welling in her eyes.
I had to think of something quick. Under any other circumstances I wouldn’t feel like I needed to explain myself to my daughter, but this was different. I had to offer up some sort of response.
“We heard you were doing this and we just couldn’t believe it.” I glanced over at Jake. He hadn’t moved. “Jake, close the door.” I didn’t need the whole tenth floor hearing this dysfunctional conversation.
He let go of the door and joined me in the sitting area.
“We had to see for ourselves,” I continued.
Alexandria sat down. She lowered her head. Tears flowed down her freshly powdered face. “I’m so sorry,” she wept.
Jake looked at me. He put his hand over his mouth and shook his head. He was still in shock. As was I. Although we had managed to get ourselves out of the line of questioning and scrutiny, we had to deal with the fact that our own daughter was living a lifestyle we thought we had done a good job sheltering her from. The number one question I had was why.
“Just because,” she said.
And I didn’t expect any other answer. It couldn’t have been for money; we paid her tuition and she wanted for nothing. It couldn’t have been for housing; she had her own apartment on campus. And it sure wasn’t out of desperation; she had always been a driven, strong-willed person. If she needed anything, she went and got it, and if anybody was trying to force her to do something she didn’t want to do, she knew how to make him or her stop.
I couldn’t help but ask myself if it was hereditary. Was the lifestyle something my husband and I just happened to enjoy or was it in our DNA?
Danielle & Stewart
“It’s up!” I rejoiced at launching the long-awaited video of the owner of Puss & Boots performing oral sex on me. Stew and I had been promoting the video for months. Our subscribers had been wanting to see if we could catch the boss of the place we operated out of on our hidden camera. They doubted we had the balls. And with the Upload Complete message that just shot across the computer screen, we showed them.
It was close to ten o’clock, time to head out to work. The We Even Caught the Boss video was the last of our ammunition. We needed to reload, and with Jake and Lyssa out of town for a convention we could have free reign over Puss & Boots.
The club was packed, as was typical for a Saturday. I saw some new faces and many old. I was on two pills so I was ready to go upon entering. But there was a protocol I had to follow, so instead of just joining in on the orgy that was taking place on one of the square, oversized, leather-topped daybeds, I headed straight for the bar.
Stew, from behind me, ordered our drinks. I scoped out our surroundings for a couple I felt could be interesting to our subscribers. I usually looked for people who were of course attractive, had pretty decent bodies, and who seemed like they would be a lot of fun or would transform behind the four walls of our room.
It was a hidden camera site so it wasn’t like we could rely on acting from a set of characters. We needed people who were natural characters to make our videos entertaining. And one had just moved up next to me, eyeing me with a grin that could have made my panties come off—if I were wearing any.
She was an average-looking girl in the face but her body was enhanced in all the right places. Her breasts had to measure beyond a double-D. Her waist was thin, too thin for the huge behind that protruded from it. She couldn’t have been born with that juicy thing. That had to be the result of butt shots.
I had always wanted to capture one of those for our site. With Nicki Minaj popularizing the enormous ass, I had wanted to offer that look to our viewership. I had always noticed it at the strip clubs in Atlanta but until that night I had never seen it walk through the doors of Puss & Boots. I was on i
t.
“Now that’s an ass,” I told her as she stood in the small space between the barstool I was sitting on and the empty one beside me.
“You like it?” she asked, locking her knees and shaking it effortlessly.
Stewart walked over to get a closer look, and I asked him for permission to touch it. He said, “Hell yeah.”
First I rubbed it, then squeezed it, then gave it a light slap. The seductive grin and the licking of her own titties told me that she was enjoying herself. Stewart and I wouldn’t need much talking or drinking to get her to our room. We went straight for the kill.
“You’re coming with us,” I told the girl. “Where’s your guy?”
“I’m here with my girl,” she countered, pointing at a table for two. “Is that cool?”
We followed her finger to an edgy-looking girl with half her head shaved and the other half overflowing with long silky purple hair. She was very light-skinned, though she wasn’t white. Maybe Latina or biracial. She had piercings in her cheeks that created dimples. She was clearly a character.
“Sounds great,” Stew said.
I nodded in agreement. This was going to be fun. The girl motioned for her friend to join us. We led them through the delirious crowd, and despite this being something I was far from new to, seeing so many random people openly having sex with other random people still had the affect on me it had my very first time. I couldn’t turn away from it. I had to glance in the direction of every passionate scream and every orgasmic pant. And it always looked the same. Faces on the men told the story of intense pleasure, while faces on the women, of drunken excitement.
When we got inside our room, Stew locked the door and I removed my towel. The first girl pushed Stew down on the rotating bed, straddling him, her planet-sized bottom jiggling like Jell-O.
Her girlfriend with the purple hair then started peering around our room. “Where is it?” she asked, dragging her hands across the wall.
I smiled, half-crazed from the pills I had taken. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” I walked up on her and reached out for her smaller but perky set of breasts.
