by Miasha
He worked out with her that morning. He ate breakfast with her, even laughed at a couple of her jokes. He told her he was going out to buy her a gift and that he would be back in time for them to go to the Cupid event at Puss & Boots. He even hugged and kissed her before he left. It took everything in her not to ring his neck.
It was two thirty. Check-in was at three and that was also the time Ferrari had texted Tori to meet him at the hotel. Rotten bastard, JuJu thought.
She threw on some clothes in a rage. Her heart beat rapidly. She waited on edge for about twenty minutes before she left her home. She and Kevin had planned to meet at the hotel at four to give Ferrari and Tori time to get in and settled.
She left her condo, speed-walked down the hall, and took the elevator to the parking garage. She was already in her car with the engine running when she realized she had left her phone in the house. She contemplated going back up and getting it. She looked at the time. She had five minutes to spare, so she turned the car off and darted back into the building.
She took the elevator back up to her unit, the penthouse suite. Upon exiting the elevator she could hear her phone ringing. She hurried to get it but had just missed a call from Mike. She listened to the message as she walked from her bedroom back to her front door.
“Judith, it’s me, Mike.” The urgency in Mike’s voice immediately concerned her. “Listen, if you’re home, leave now. Go to a public place. I intercepted more of Ferrari’s texts. He didn’t send that ‘I’m ready’ text to the girl. He sent it to a guy. I don’t know how to tell you this, but he put a hit out on you . . .”
JuJu’s heart sank. She gasped. Then she dropped her phone. She felt rough hands on her neck. A big guy in a ski mask was suddenly choking the life out of her. She tried ripping his hands away, but her strength was no match for him. Her eyelids began to flutter. She was losing consciousness. Her phone started ringing again. She tried using her feet to possibly answer the phone with hopes the person on the other end would hear her gasping for air. But her feet were no longer even touching the floor.
She was being attacked and her husband, the man who had orchestrated it, was off making love to another woman. Juju’s terror evaporated as she collapsed in her killer’s grip.
Tori & Kevin
“Where are you, JuJu?” Kevin muttered under his breath as he sat in his car in the Marriott parking lot. He looked at the time on his cell phone. It was after four. He had waited in pain long enough to confront Tori, and JuJu being late could cause him to miss his opportunity. His head pounded with a headache from his all-night drinking binge.
He dialed her number.
“You’ve reached a supermodel, baby, lucky you. Leave a message and please be detailed—”
He hung up in the middle of her message. I’ll give her five more minutes, he told himself.
He got out of his car in four. He locked it up and headed to the hotel entrance. At the front desk, he did as JuJu had directed: he told the woman he had locked himself out of his room and needed another key.
“What’s your room number?”
“817.”
“Mr. Ferrari Ribeiro?”
“Yes,” Kevin nodded.
The clerk dug in her stash of magnetic keys and handed one to Kevin. “Enjoy your evening Mr. Ribeiro.”
JuJu was right. It was so busy on Valentine’s Day the clerks couldn’t remember every face that checked in and out.
Kevin took the elevator to the eighth floor, growing more discontented with every stop. He followed the signs to room 817. When he put his ear to the door, the sounds he heard made him want to kill somebody.
Lyssa & Jacob
From the amount of RSVPs, we were expecting a big turn-out at the club that night. We had it fully catered and the bars were well stocked. We had extra staff on hand too. I was looking forward to us all having a good time. I even invited Morgan.
Jacob didn’t know yet. He didn’t even know that we had spoken. The whole ordeal with Danielle and Stewart running a porn site from our club had occupied all of our conversations since I found out about it. We had spoken to our attorney about our options, and since we had not only been defrauded by Danielle and Stewart using our club to conduct their business, but I was also a victim of them illegally recording me, we had a lawsuit on our hands.
Come to find out, Danielle was trying to get me to have sex with her at the club just so she could tape me. And when that didn’t work, she had set up a camera at her house and taped me at their Christmas party. That helped our case, though, because had all the recordings been at the club, Danielle and Stewart could have argued that Jake and I had given them permission to set up the video recorder. They could have lied and said the additional membership fees they paid were our cut of the profits they made off the site. But seeing as they had me on tape at their home, and the fact that they captioned the video We Even Caught the Boss, we had a solid case that we were not in on the scheme.
We hadn’t spoken to Danielle and Stewart about any of it. They hadn’t returned our calls. We didn’t want to leave a message and scare them off, so we just waited for them to get back to town and figured we’d catch up with them at our event they agreed to host.
I was instructing the party planners I’d hired on where to put the furniture and decor when I heard Kelsey’s voice squeal, “Mor-gan!”
I couldn’t lie, just hearing her name made my vagina throb. I excused myself from the party planners and headed out to the front entrance.
As soon as our eyes met, Morgan ran into my arms. I hugged her tight and we immediately began kissing. It was throbbing double-time now.
“I missed you so much,” I told her, not wanting to let her go.
“Awww, get a room,” Kelsey teased.
Morgan giggled like a schoolgirl. “I missed you too,” she said, gently wiping the residue from her lipstick off my mouth.
“I haven’t told Jake yet,” I said, finally releasing her.
Her face froze.
“But he kept a secret from me, so I can keep one from him,” I explained.
Morgan relaxed.
“Payback is a bitch,” I said, “with some good-ass pussy.”
Chapter 8
The Pain Ain’t Cheap
Tori & Kevin
Ferrari and I were engrossed in a threesome. A girl he knew had agreed to be my Valentine’s Day surprise from him. She was very pretty, and exotic like him. They were both natives of Brazil. My thighs were propped on her shoulders while she sucked the natural juices from my peach. It was a nickname she had given me based on me being a Georgia girl.
My back was leaned against the headboard. I was sitting upright, my eyes following Ferrari as he slid out of her and walked over to the side of the bed. He climbed up on it, planting his feet as firmly as he could on the soft mattress. He positioned his body sideways, facing me, gripped my head in his hands, and put his dick in my mouth.
I could taste remnants of her—he wasn’t wearing a condom. I didn’t care though. I liked being naughty. It turned me on. It was one of the reasons I found it so hard to be faithful to Kevin. But this was it, I still intended to keep my promise to myself that this would be our last hoorah.
Ferrari pumped my mouth vigorously. He was feeling good too. I could tell because when the hotel room door opened up and Kevin appeared before us, he didn’t stop. He simply kept pumping.
What happened next was a blur. I remember Kevin charging at Ferrari. The girl was struck with fear as she threw her clothes on and got out of there with lightning speed. I tried to break Kevin and Ferrari apart, but it was no use. Kevin was in as great shape as Ferrari. There was nothing I could do to pull them off each other.
“I told you to end all contact with my wife!” Kevin yelled as he wrapped his hands around Ferrari’s neck.
“Stop!” I screamed at Kevin. “You’re going to kill him!”
Kevin ignored my pleas. He was focused only on Ferrari, who seemed to be slipping in and out of con
sciousness. “I warned you,” he told Ferrari through clenched teeth. “I told you I would make you regret it! And you didn’t stop. You even had the nerve to set up that trip to Puss & Boots so that you could have sex with my wife right in front of me, knowing that I had texted you and told you to stay away from her, knowing that I had warned you what I would do if you reached out to her again. YOU THOUGHT I WAS JOKING? YOU THOUGHT YOU’D MAKE ME OUT TO BE A LIAR?” Kevin’s rage was unlike anything I had seen before.
I knew if I didn’t do something, Kevin would regret this for the rest of his life. I jumped on his back, trying to pull him off Ferrari or at least convince him to let go. I tried to the bitter end. But by the time Kevin had swung me off, it was too late. Ferrari was lifeless.
His body was curled up in the corner between the bed and window. Kevin’s handprints were engraved in his neck. I broke out in tears, my body shook with fear.
“Call the police,” I told Kevin, who was leaned up against the bed, breathless, staring at Ferrari in disbelief. “Call the police!”
Kevin didn’t go for the phone. Instead he charged at Ferrari again, but this time to give him CPR. He blew breath into Ferrari’s mouth, pounded on his chest, listened for any sign of life, and repeated the steps all over again.
I ran for the phone and started to dial 911.
“Wait,” Kevin said. Panic seemed to set in. He stood up. He paced the small room. He rubbed his mouth and goatee. He shed tears.
“We have to call the police. They may be able to save him,” I cried, the phone quivering in my hand.
“He’s dead, there’s no saving him,” Kevin said. “We can’t call the police.”
“What do you mean? We have to.”
Kevin stood in front of me and held my arms down by my side. “Tori, I will go to jail for the rest of my life and that will be on your hands. That over there,” he pointed at Ferrari, “that’s on your hands.” He was trying to convince me not to involve the authorities. His words poked away at me like darts aiming for the bull’s eye. They stuck but didn’t hit the mark until . . . “You want your mom’s last memories of her only child to be of her frequenting a swingers club, having a threesome with a married man and some strange girl, causing her son-in-law to throw his life away all because he loved her daughter too much?”
Bull’s eye.
The thought of my mom listening to this story unfold on every news channel made me think twice about calling the police. The fact that Kevin was right—this was all my fault—also made me pause. I had truly messed up. And having lost Ferrari, I didn’t want to lose Kevin too. Besides, I had obviously put him through enough. And he had done nothing but be a great husband, partner, and friend to me. The guilt I felt deemed the death penalty. I released the phone, letting it fall into Kevin’s palm. He put it in his pocket and wiped his eyes.
“Get yourself together,” he said, rubbing my arms as I let them hang down by my sides. “Get dressed . . . quick.” He threw my clothes at me.
I did what I was told, too numb to think on my own.
“This never happened,” Kevin murmured as he dragged Ferrari’s body to the closet. “You hear me?”
I didn’t answer. I was still crying and shaking, trying to put my clothes on.
“This never happened! All right?”
I nodded, sniffling, trying to control my tears.
“He got this room for the night, so nobody will come in here until tomorrow around check-out,” Kevin seemed to be thinking aloud. “We’ll hide him in here,” he said, opening the closet. “Early in the morning, before the sun comes up, we’ll take him out of here.” He struggled to fit Ferrari’s muscular six-foot frame inside.
“Can’t we tell them it was an accident?” I searched for one more out to call the police before I would totally commit to becoming an accessory to murder.
“An accident is when somebody falls and hits their head or a gun goes off during a fight. There’s no way to classify choking somebody to death as an accident.”
“It was a crime of passion,” I suggested. “People use that defense all the time and get off.”
“And just as many people don’t get off,” Kevin mumbled as he closed the closet door. Then he dropped forward, letting his hands rest on his knees, and cried.
In time, I joined him and we wept together. I had realized that Kevin was probably right. Nothing could justify what he had done. If the police got involved, he would go to jail for murder. I had to help him. I couldn’t live with myself being responsible for two people losing their lives.
“What are we going to do?”
Kevin wiped his face and stood up. He thought for a second. “We’re gonna go to the club—”
“I can’t go to the club after this.”
“You RSVP’d, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but . . .”
“If we don’t show up, we have no alibi and we look suspicious,” he explained. “We have to carry on like normal. We’ll return here with a suitcase and remove the body. When they come in to clean the room, they’ll think he checked out.”
* * *
I went along with Kevin’s plan and it killed me inside that what I had done led to all of this. How I would manage to act normal later on at Puss & Boots, I didn’t know—until I got there. I ordered drink after drink. I didn’t leave the bar. I was trying to drown away the horrors of the day. Even when I felt the intense need to urinate, I stayed glued to the barstool. Kevin was beside me, but he wasn’t drinking as much. In fact, he wasn’t drinking at all.
Danielle and Stewart were in the center of the dance floor putting on a live show. Everybody was gathered around watching them. Two girls sandwiched Danielle to form a pyramid. Stewart took turns dipping in and out of each of them. The entire club was entranced by their act when two uniformed police officers walked in.
No words can describe the terror and overwhelming grief I felt in the pit of my stomach.
Danielle & Stewart
I was rolling, high off a pill and about three shots. The slightest touch sent shockwaves through me. I was relishing the pleasures of my husband and our two volunteers and even more so the audience we commanded. I moaned dramatically. I loved the spotlight. I loved sex. And I was enjoying both at the same time. If only we could manage to get this on tape, I thought with a laugh.
My husband had just taken his pipe out of me and put it in the top girl. I could feel him pounding her on my back since she was positioned on top of me. Her screaming in delight right above me had me yearning for more. I started rubbing my kitty cat against the bottom girl’s butt cheek, seeking some relief. And to be sure she was being pleased too, I let my fingers find their way down to her midsection. Her hand was already there, though, rubbing forcefully like a deejay scratching a record. That pace could only mean one thing: she was on her way to an orgasm. And she was a squirter too, so that was bound to be a sight for our audience, who had grown eerily quiet by that time. I imagined it was anticipation of the volcanic eruption that was about to burst from the bottom girl.
But when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see two figures in dark uniforms, I understood the audience’s silence. Before I could react, I heard my name—my real name—and I became a lot more aware.
“Christine Fisher,” the officer’s voice sobered me.
My husband backed out of the top girl, his face wrinkled with confusion. “What the hell is goin’ on?” he asked.
“Mr. Fisher,” the officer said, as he moved to place Stew’s wrists in cuffs, “you and your wife Christine are under arrest for the illegal installation, placement, or use of a device for observing, recording, transmitting, photographing, or eavesdropping in a private place.”
The other officer cuffed me. “You have the right to remain silent, whatever you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, you have the right to an attorney . . .”
I exercised my rights and kept quiet. There was nothing I could say anyway. My husband and
I had gotten away with recording people for four years in over a dozen cities. I’d have to be a fool to think our crimes wouldn’t catch up with us eventually. I just regretted the timing of it all. We were set to leave this city the very next afternoon. We would have escaped the law once again. That was what made this particularly hard to swallow.
The cops kept us cuffed while we put on our clothes. The Puss & Boots customers all stood around in shock as we were walked out the door of what had become like a second home. It wasn’t the ending I had planned. But then again, who ever had a plan for getting caught?
Lyssa & Jacob
It didn’t take long for Jacob and me to get paid on our lawsuit against Danielle and Stewart. They copped a plea to avoid jail time and settled with all their victims. Jake and I were awarded half a million dollars in damages. We used the money to start a production company to produce porn for our online version of Puss & Boots. We used Danielle and Stewart’s room to shoot in. It was perfect—it already had the proper decor and it was already wired.
All of our participants were consenting. They signed releases and got paid for their work. We put the videos on our website. Members could access them for free and nonmembers on a pay-per-view basis. It was brilliant.
Alexandria ended up dropping out of school. Her heart wasn’t in pediatrics. After much thought and careful consideration, we let her start working the door at the club. Jake and I never did anything there so it wouldn’t be like we’d have to hide, and working the door meant she was separated from all the X-rated things that went on inside.
Kelsey was promoted to general manager. She also let Morgan stay with her as a favor to me. I paid her share of the rent and utilities, and whenever I visited Kelsey I got to have a little fun. Jacob didn’t know. I planned to tell him at some point. The time just hadn’t presented itself yet. And until it did, Morgan was my guilty pleasure. She made me happy. And me being happy was good for everybody. I was a better wife and lover to Jake and a focused, easygoing businesswoman. Everybody won.
