Everyone Has a Price Sneak Peek

The sun shined bright on his face as he wrestled with the thought of waking up. The last three months of his life were marvelous. Orgasmic, if you will. Now he had to go home.

Paris. There was nothing like it.

A lot of people think of the Eiffel Tower or crepes when it came to Paris. But not Aiden Batista. He always knew he wanted to come strictly for the fashion. As a young boy, he remembered watching—studying—the Chanel fashion runway videos whenever his mother took him shopping with her at the boutique. He would then go home and design drawings based on what he saw. He would then give the drawings to Victoria, who proudly displayed them on the refrigerator for all to see.

But childish scribbles soon turned into serious sketches. Aiden often found himself paying more attention to the Style Network than any sporting event. He spent more time coordinating his outfits and made sure he was always looking clean. He even coordinated his mother’s gowns whenever she had a gala to attend with his father.

However, Aiden’s love for fashion stood out like a sore thumb. Because he wasn’t into sports like his brother, Zavier and family friend, Christopher, everyone assumed he was gay. It was only a matter of time before rumors of his sexuality began to follow Aiden. He never denied the fact he was gay but he never quite admitted it either. To Aiden, it was a non-issue. His sexuality had no bearing on his designs. Either one liked his designs or they didn’t. The fact he sucked cock had nothing to do with it.

Once graduating high school, Aiden was on the first plane to Paris as a graduation gift from his parents. All of his free time was spent studying fashion and design is what he told his parents. All of Aiden’s free time was spent by partying and hitting up every night club in Paris. There were the coke binges, the alcohol contests and the sex. The threesomes, foursomes, orgies galore.

And that was within the first month.

But fate intervened and Aiden met his match with a man named Randy Orton. A tall drink of water. He stood over six feet tall with chestnut brown hair, tanned skin and gorgeous baby blues. He was tatted up but often covered his arms with long-sleeved business shirts. His face was chiseled. His body smelled like a husky combination of musk and sex.

And he was all Aiden’s.

The first night they met at a disco. A drink and a couple dances later, they were in a secluded corner making out. Hours later, Aiden was bent over the breakfast table with Randy pounding him from behind. Three months later, they were snuggled up in bed trying to pry themselves away from each other. Three months of candlelight dinners, romantic outings, and endless lovemaking. Three months of bliss and chocolate, how Aiden often put it.

Three months of hiding a secret from both families. While Aiden came from one of the most powerful and wealthy families in Cathedral Springs, Randy’s family had just as much—if not more—power. Randy’s father, Bob Orton, was the Cathedral Springs mayor. Randy happened to be in Paris on a vacation before handling business matters back at home.

Complicated, indeed.

Baby, I totally thought of you when you first arrived in the US

For Those Who Wonder Why I'm Waiting....

For my hubby...and my love for McNuggets

San Francisco City Hall

Self-invite, much?

You know what I love about getting married? Getting married.

You know what I hate about getting married? The self-invites.

I announced to a few close friends that we were getting married last year. I announced it to everyone back in March. Now, I'm getting the invites.

"I hope I get to go!"

"I can't wait to be there!"

"I hope I get an invitation!"

Now, don't get me wrong. I love the fact I have so many friends and family supporting my next step in my life. But do these people know exactly how much a wedding actually costs? It's not cheap. And with me and the fiancee footing the bill, it's definitely not cheap!

We made the decision to make our wedding itself a private and small affair, with only our nearest and dearest. I know that won't sit too well for some people. But let's face it, with a 45 count guest list (which also counts us), we don't really have a choice in the matter. Either a very small wedding or a quick trip to San Francisco City Hall (no, not Vegas. S.F.'s city hall is off the chain...don't believe me? Check out the pictures in the above post.)

So now fiancee and I have the suck-ass decision of deciding exactly who is invited to the wedding and who is invited to the morning-after brunch.

Not. Fun. Period.

Daddy's Angel, Chapter 2

I hate this. I hate this. I absolutely fucking hate this.

The mood was set for a nice romantic occasion. The ceiling lights were dimmed as candles surrounded the large living room. Different incense scents filled the mansion with sensual and exotic aromas. The small crackle of a fireplace occasionally broke up the monotony of peace and quiet. In a far corner, a stereo system banged out sensual and sexual themed music for the night.

It was perfect for a couple wanting to have an intimate evening. For Jessica, it was not the way she would have liked to spend her evening. It was far from it.

Upstairs in the mansion, Jessica changed into her standard masseuse uniform. It was similar to a nurse’s wardrobe back in the day. It was white and fitted around the waist. There was a zipper down the front and pockets on both thighs. The outfit was short, just barely covering Jessica’s ass. Matching white thigh-highs completed the look with clear stiletto heels. To Jessica, she didn’t look like any masseuse she’s ever seen.

She looked like what she was—an overpaid and high-priced prostitute.

Jessica absolutely loathed what she did. She should like it. She tried to convince herself she needed to like it. But she didn’t. She hated it and that was in direct contrast with the other girls’ feelings toward the business. Layla didn’t care, Vanilla thought it was fun and Eve was simply looking for another way to make money.

But Jessica hated what she did for a living. It was dirty, disgusting, and despicable. She always felt she needed to strip her body of the filth after a session and quickly formed a habit of drinking a glass of red wine every night to relax her nerves.

But she wanted to please Jackson. Seeing him happy and satisfied gave her a sick twisted sense of accomplishment. If he was happy, that’s all that mattered to Jessica, despite how miserable she was.

No, I love this. I love this. I love this.

The evening started off as it always did. Jessica and the john would have dinner with a simple chit-chatter and small talk. Shortly after dessert was served, it was Jessica’s cue to go upstairs to change to something more provocative and desirable that evening. While was Jessica gone, Jackson and the suitor finalized the final business arrangements, what was expected and the final dollar amount. Jackson told the girls it was to make sure the guy wanted to proceed with the evening. But the girls knew better. It was Jackson’s way of sniffing out the police.

Once everything was finalized, Jackson waited outside the home for about an hour. He was never inside the residence when the business transaction was took place nor did he wait in the truck. If anything went wrong, he wanted to be close to his girls. A few times he had to rescue the girls from johns who took advantage of their services. Needless to say, the johns were promptly served with punishment that beyond cruel and unusual. Jackson stood nearly seven feet tall with a muscular build with a voice that was deep and quivering. Tattoos sleeved his arms and much of his upper body and his voice was deep but quivering.

But it was his presence that commanded respect. He never asked for it nor did he give it away to anyone. Whenever Jackson walked into a room, there was an aura of fear and admiration that quickly followed him. He was a charming businessman who often brokered deals wearing an Armani suit. He was also a menacing being who wasted no time serving someone a face full of knuckles if they looked at him wrong.

“Angel,” Jessica heard Jackson’s voice beckon her from downstairs, “are you ready?”

Jessica briefly closed her eyes and whispered a Hail Mary. She wasn’t very religious but found herself becoming more so every day. She needed something to keep her sane and if praying to God was helping her, so be it. She slowly cracked opened her eyes and took a moment to stare at herself in the mirror.

I love what I do. I love what I do. I love what I do. “I’m on my way.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“How did it go?” Jackson asked.

Jessica wasted no time handing over the five crisp hundred dollar bills. The sooner they were out of her hands, the better she felt. Holding the money only served as a reminder of what just transpired and Jessica only wanted to forget, rather than reminisce. “It went well, Daddy,” she softly spoke.

Jackson counted out the money and nodded in agreement. He put the truck in drive and headed home. The evening was successful. Great food, great conversation, and the john hopefully received great head. According to Jackson, it should’ve been a happy ending for all involved.

But as he looked over to his side and saw his Angel stare out into the darkness, Jackson knew she was anything but happy. He wasn’t oblivious to Jessica’s feelings or attitude. When she was upset, Jessica became reserved and withdrawn from everyone. When she was angry, she was very snappy and condescending to the point of being intentionally hurtful. When she was aroused, Jessica was a vixen, wanting to taste every drop her Daddy had to offer.

He knew her feelings and emotions before she spoke of them. He read her like the Braille alphabet and only waited for her to say anything to the contrary on what she was acting. He admired her for putting on a good show and she would be greatly rewarded later.

But she never said one word. Ever. It was as if she knew her role and position in Jackson’s life—she made the money, he took care of her, end of story. It was something Jackson came to appreciate. It was also something that drove him nuts. His Angel wasn’t passive-aggressive, but he couldn’t quite put his fingers on exactly what was her deal. Layla was a bitch; he could deal with that. Kelly was needy; he could deal with that as well. Eve couldn’t care either way; she just wanted to get paid. Jackson definitely had no problem with her.

But it was his Angel that he could never figure out. She never complained. She didn’t mop or pout when she didn’t get her way. She didn’t hold grudges or plot against him in retaliation. She was—angelic.

Maybe she was too angelic. Jessica was so quiet, Jackson had to keep extra tabs on her whereabouts. She told him whatever he wanted to know but it didn’t deter the suspicions from rising and forming in his head. She was up to something. She had to be. Why else would be so quiet? “Are you hungry?” He asked.

Jessica rubbed her arms and finally looked over at her protector. No matter what transpired during the night, Jackson had a way of comforting her without doing a single thing. “I could use a bite to eat,” she replied.

------------------------------------------------

Jenny’s Deli was an all-night spot that catered to everyone in L.A. It didn’t matter if one was an A-list celebrity or a regular person off the street; everyone still received the same treatment. The diner had a 1950s feel with a present-day touch. Waitresses were nicknamed Daisy, Baby or Sugar. A doo-wop group was on call to serenade the guests with requests.

But Jenny’s Deli was special for another reason. It would always be the place Jackson saved Jessica and introduced her to his world.

She would never forget that fateful evening. She was going on day three of starvation but it wasn’t because she trying to maintain her svelte frame. Jessica simply could not afford groceries. She survived on Slim-Fast shakes but it didn’t curb her appetite for wanting a good old-fashioned cheeseburger.

Jackson was hanging out with some of his friends when he spotted Jessica walking down the street, holding her stomach. He didn’t know much about the female body but he could tell when someone hadn’t eaten in days. Hunger didn’t discriminate. Jackson offered Jessica to sit down and join him for dinner. Normally, Jessica would turn down dinner with strangers but at that point, she was so hungry it didn’t matter.

And that was when Jessica’s life ended—and began.

Daddy's Angel, Chapter 1

“I’m ready to go, Daddy,” she said as she presented herself to him.

Jackson glanced over his Angel. It was his job to make sure he was presenting the best available merchandise possible. No one goes to a car lot to buy the most horrific looking vehicle on sale. Why would it be expected when it came to paying for sex? “Beautiful,” he commented, “let’s go.”

Jessica walked through the home as she made her way out to the vehicle, a nicely tricked-out Yukon with all of the bells and whistles included. The home itself was modest with a touch of extravagance. Four bedrooms and five bathrooms, with a swimming pool and sauna in the backyard. When Jackson first purchased the home several years back, it was simple—only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, and just enough grass on the front lawn to suggest it was more than weeds.

But as his business grew, so did his home. There were four girls, total, and they all added something to the home. There was a bedroom for each of the girls with plenty of bathrooms to match. Though Jackson complained about how much noise the girls constantly made, he found himself used to the rumbling chaos. He would never admit that he missed the noise when the girls weren’t at home.

Jackson Roberts was first and foremost a businessman. He knew what the supply and demands were and how to meet them. He knew the value of the dollar and how to make it stretch as far as he could. He never considered himself a pimp, though that was exactly what he was. To Jackson, a pimp was someone who kept his “hoes” living run-down and raggedy; having the girls walk up and down the street at all hours of the night; disrespecting them by calling them ‘ho’ or ‘bitch.’

But that wasn’t Jackson or his girls. They shopped at the designer boutique stores, had meals that consisted more than a hamburger and fries, and most importantly, gave Jackson all of their earnings. In return, he gave them love and comfort no one else could. The girls, in return, referred to him as Daddy. It was Princess who gave him the nickname first during a heated and passionate exchange during sex. She kept referring to him as Daddy and soon the other girls picked up on it. It never bothered Jackson for he grew to love the name.

He wasn’t a pimp. A stockbroker, if you will. Just as a person would watch the stocks to see how their money is doing, Jackson eyed his girls to make sure they acted right. To him, he was merely a protector of his investments.

And his investments were managing his personal massage business. High-class executives and regular Joe Schmoes will call up Jackson’s service to set up an appointment. The girls would go to the client’s house, render any services, and return home to Jackson, with a large wad of cash in tow. It was always discreet and untraceable, especially back to Jackson.

There were four of them—Vanilla, Caliente, Princess, and Angel. Each nickname matched the girls’ personalities to a tee. Vanilla was Kelly, a demure woman in her twenties who was quiet and inexplicably shy. She was petite blonde with full-B cup implants, a gift from Jackson on her 20^th birthday. She was the youngest of the girls and the least experienced. She knew the basics of sucking and fucking but hesitated to try anything further. Jackson didn’t press her to know more but practically demanded the other girls to teach Kelly everything they knew, despite how much they didn’t want to.

Vanilla wasn’t the smartest of the group, but she always had the best intentions, no matter how hard or flat they fell. Jackson gave her the nickname because of her favorite ice cream flavor, not to mention her sweet demeanor. Her nickname would also serve another purpose as Kelly would often pour vanilla ice cream over Jackson’s shaft before going down on him.

Caliente was Layla, whose mouth got her into trouble with Jackson on a weekly basis. She was a bi-racial beauty with dangerous curves. Equally dangerous was her mouth and temperament. She was argumentative, heated, and often held grudges for as long as she could. But it was her sex style that prompted the nickname from Jackson. She was enticing, desirable, and could make a john orgasm within two minutes from her hot mouth. It was an open secret if Layla did not service Jackson at least once a week, he came unbearable to be around.

Next there was Princess, who was Eve. She the athletic one, a trained gymnast who spent her free time sculpting her body and mind as oppose to going shopping with the other girls. She was the brains of the group, handling the bookkeeping and accounting for Jackson. She made Jackson’s professional masseuse business sound and act legit, keeping the cops at bay.

Princess was a stunning beauty and used her looks to her advantage more often than not. Jackson heavily spoiled her, giving the finest of everything. It was that very attitude that often set up the battle between Princess and Caliente—the ultimate Princess going against the Diva.

Lastly, there was Angel—Jessica. It wasn’t a secret the other girls didn’t care for Angel for the simple fact she was Jackson’s favorite. But Angel didn’t care one way or another who liked her as long as she had Jackson’s approval, which was a guarantee. She was an older blonde—older as in Angel was only in her mid-twenties.

But there was one significant difference between Angel and the rest of the girls—her aura. There was an air about Jessica that made her stand out like a sore thumb. She was incredibly picky, spoiled, and could be quite condescending in her dealings. While Caliente was confrontational, Angel was passive-aggressive. Princess was showered with attention from Jackson; Angel demanded it. Angel only tolerated Vanilla because she had to, otherwise, she wouldn’t have.

But that wasn’t the only difference the girls hated about Angel. She was just like Jackson in more ways than she would admit. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Maybe that was why they butted heads often. Whatever the case, she was Daddy’s Angel.

“So what’s the treatment tonight?” Jessica asked Jackson.

“The usual,” he replied.

Ah yes, the usual, Jessica rolled her eyes. The usual consisted of a nude full body massage, topped off with a happy ending of the client’s choice. Jessica couldn’t remember and dared to think about how many orgasms she had faked over the years. Serving and soliciting clients wasn’t the most enjoyable sexual experiences. They were boring. The men were usually too vocal or worse, too selfish. A few clients got too rough in which Jackson literally handed the men their asses on a platter.

But it was a life she chose. It was a life she dove head first into five years ago when she was just barely out of college. I knew what I was doing or I wouldn’t be here, she sighed. She adjusted her position so she leaned against the door and stared at the moonlight shining down on her. Arriving in Los Angeles a few years back, she never imagined her life to become what it was. In fact, she had completely different ideas for it….

Jessica responded to a casting call for a small-role in an upcoming TV drama. She had been going to auditions since arriving in LA a few months back. She survived by waitressing and bartending at night while going to her acting classes during the day. Forty-five auditions and no callbacks. Not to mention, Jessica looked like every other young blonde trying to make it in Hollywood. Some had perkier breasts while other had whiter teeth. Some had professional training; others had the natural ability.

And then there was Jessica, who had fallen somewhere in between. She was pretty enough to do some modeling work. She was thin enough to fit in with Hollywood standards. But to Hollywood and the rest of the world, she was another blonde trying to chase a nonexistent dream.

Arriving at a local downtown office, Jessica waited against the wall with 30 other girls, not to mention the long line forming outside the doorway leading into the street. She was tired, her feet were sore from standing so long, and desperately hungry. But if she wanted her big break, she will have to curb her appetite and ignore her feet for just a while longer.

A door soon opened and another inspiring starlet was sent on her way home. Jessica straightened out her clothing and walked up to the casting director.

“Ah, let me guess,” the casting director glanced over her body, “you’re FOB.”

Jessica squinted her eyes. “FOB?”

“Fresh Off the Bus,” the casting director smiled again, “where ya’ from, kiddo?”

“Troy, Michigan,” Jessica wearily replied.

“Detroit-city girl coming to L.A. for big dreams and big living,” he licked his lips, “I have the perfect opportunity for you, sweetheart. You’ll be perfect for a new role I’m casting.”

Jessica’s eyes lit up. Her dream of making it in Hollywood was about to come true. No more living off Cup O’ Noodles or scrounging change to do laundry. Soon, she’ll be at event parties and become tabloid fodder for the gossip columns. “Really? What is it?”

The director grabbed Jessica’s hand and led her to his private office. “Let’s talk here for more privacy and comfort.”

Ten minutes later, a loud scream was heard and Jessica bolted out of the room. She was crying and frantically trying to put her clothing back on. The casting director limped out of the room, holding his crotch. “You’ll never work in this town again, bitch!”

Still, to this day, Jessica wasn’t sure if the casting director actually blackballed her from the industry or if it was simply not her time to shine. But all of that didn’t matter now as the truck pulled up to a mansion. Jackson parked the vehicle and Jessica glanced over her appearance one last time. She may not have been headlining any movies but she’ll be in the starring role for someone’s fantasy that night.

So it's getting cheaper and better...

Planning this wedding. (I wish money could fall out of the sky right now...)

So I cut another $500 out of the budget. I still haven't met with the venue yet but I imagine I'm going to cut a whole lot out of that once we sit down and discuss.

I created the STDs (Save the Dates) and I'm in the process of getting monograms created. I tried doing my own but I think I'm better off spending the money to get them done professionally. (And I found a girl online who can do great monograms for cheap. Yeah!)

I joined a board called Budget Brides. I think I'm inspired enough to do a wedding under $15K. My goal is still under $10K but I have to be realistic. I think if I aspire for a $12K affair, I should be good. The wedding only has 45 guests, and that's counting me and Max so if I could spend above $15K on this, I would really have to be trying to spend a ton of money.

My savings account isn't looking too shabby and that's just because I'm on the budget of all budgets now. It sucks but I know it'll pay off in the long run. Plus selling some stuff on Ebay isn't hurting either.

So far, so good. Now I just need to get my career going, I'll be all set!

Wedding Checks

The one thing I love about planning a wedding is all the checks I have to do. No, I don't mean writing checks, but I mean things to checkmark off my list of items to-do.

So here's the checklist:

Save the Dates---done. MS Publisher is the business!
Officiant---almost done (still need to sort out details.)
Photographer--done. Sending contract tonight!
Venue--almost done (still need to sort out details.)
Bachelor/Bachelorette parties--almost done (Honor Divas are handling that)
Favors--almost done (still need to shop around on prices)

So what's left? Well, quite a bit...

Invites...don't know who's invited yet. I do know there's not much room after family is invited.
Decor. My decor Diva, Andrew, is taking care of that.
Dress. Andrew is also helping me with that. Too damn hot to be dress shopping now.
Flowers. Probably won't decide until closer to the wedding. Like two months before.
DJ...need to meet with the venue on what they provide.
Honeymoon planning. We decided we're going to save up for one but we'll probably go at a later date.
Hair/Makeup/Nails: TBD @ later date.

I can honestly say I'm starting to get a bit excited now.

The Power Player Sneak Peek

Something was definitely amiss. Something in the air. Something in the mood.

Something with Randy Orton.

John and Randy have gone way back. They trained together. Survived OVW. Partied together. Hell, even tag-teaming the same groupies together. They were best friends and confidantes. So when something was wrong with Randy, John knew. But what he wasn’t expecting was Randy to be so tight-lipped about it. Randy complained about everything, even the most mundane stuff.


But for once, he was quiet like a mouse. Highly unusual for someone who had problems keeping his loose lips closed. “What’s up with you, man? You okay?” John asked.

“I’m fine!” Randy inadvertently snapped, causing John to purse his lips. “Sorry, man. I have a lot on my plate.”

“Need to talk?”

No one can ever find out about this. “Nah, I’m fine. I just need to work this out on my own.”

“Alright, man,” John left it alone.

After a few moments, Randy turned to his friend. “Okay, let’s say you did something real stupid, but it wasn’t stupid to you or the other person, but you can’t tell the other person about it. You have to keep it moving like shit never happened. Like, what do you do?”

John studied Randy’s face and let out an inaudible sigh. Same story, different Diva. “Who did you drunk-fuck this time?”

Daddy's Angel--Prologue

So this story originally appeared on fanfiction.net. Some of you may recognize it. After some quick editing and brushing up, I decided to repost it here for those who are still getting used to the Vera experience. Enjoy! Here's the prologue!

“Angel, are you ready to go?” The man asked.

Jessica McCool put the finishing touches on her lipstick. “Just one second, Daddy.”

Jackson Roberts walked into the bathroom and eyed his prized possession. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, Jessica’s beauty stunned him speechless. At first, she wasn’t really his type but he saw the potential she had. He could mold her, train her and have her doing things she’d never imagined in a million years. But that was part of the detoxification process. Erase whatever past she had so he would be her future. It worked for his other girls—it would work on his Angel.

Sure, he’s had many women come and go in his life. Some he kept around for reasons he was still trying to reconcile. But no one came close to his Angel. She was more than a piece of ass. She was an investment. And a very profitable one, at that.

But time was money and Angel was money Jackson was not getting. He watched his Angel check her lithe body one more time. She looked fine in his eyes. Hell, she was stunningly beautiful. But right now, she was clearly wasting his time and testing his patience. “Are you ready?” He growled.

Jessica shook her head as she ran a hand through her hair. He always complained. If it were raining outside, he would complain about how slick the streets were. If it were sunny outside, he would complain about how hot it was. Jessica and the other girls secretly joked amongst themselves that if given a reason, Jackson would complain about that, too. When doesn’t that asshole complain?

But he never complained when she came back with a pocket full of hundreds. He never complained when the regulars requested her by name. He never complained as long he was getting his. It was a twisted love/hate relationship between them. But they had a relationship only understood between the two of them.

“Where am I going tonight?”

“Hollywood Hills,” was his only reply. Jackson never gave out more details than was absolutely necessary. He told the girls what he wanted and they were expected to comply, no questions asked. For anyone who dared to ask, she was met with either a backhanded slap or an evil scowl. Sometimes both.

For the umpteenth time, Jessica checked herself in the mirror. Everything was perfect--not one hair out of place. Makeup was impeccable with the rosy blush bringing out her cheekbones and the soft mauve giving her pout the extra ‘oomph.’ Her choice of wardrobe was standard: the thigh-high black leather boots straight out of Pretty Woman; a barely there micro-mini skirt that accentuated her legs as well as her ass; a bright pink halter that showed off her magnificent décolletage, leaving little to the imagination.

Who was she fooling? She was Pretty Woman. Granted, she was no Julia Roberts and Jackson wasn’t anything remotely close to Richard Gere. He couldn’t be Richard Gere if he tried. In fact, there was no real way to describe Jackson other than a bully. One big-ass, tattooed-up bully. He was demanding. He was mean. He was an outright asshole.

He was her protector. He was her lover. He was her pimp.

Criminal

So it occurred to me that while I talk about random things and my impending marriage I haven't really posted on why I write on this blog...so, for your viewing pleasure (and for those who have read it before, here's an updated and edited version), here's Criminal:

She was wearing one of Jordan’s expensive dress shirts, stilettos, and maybe, underwear. It didn’t really matter if she wore any or not; it was a guarantee she wouldn’t wear any within a minute of his arrival.

She was finishing a glass of champagne when she greeted her him at the front door. “Welcome home, Lover.” She smiled.

Jordan Marks smiled as he set his luggage down. When he told her he was taking the red-eye flight home to Tampa, he expected his girlfriend, Lisa, to be sleeping upstairs with their young daughter. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see a kinky evening planned, complete with stripper pole in the middle of the living room.

As Jordan settled in for the front-row action, he looked around. Candles were lit and a bottle of champagne was chilled. The last time he saw his girlfriend, they were so busy playing catch up they didn’t have time to be even a little romantic. Yet, he was very happy to see she was making up for lost time. The portable stripper pole was a gift from Lisa to Jordan a few months ago. He loved to frequent strip clubs and she often tagged along with him. Whenever they returned home, however, Jordan always got his own personal show.

As the bass line of Fiona Apple’s Criminal reverberated throughout the condo, Lisa poured Jordan a glass of champagne. “Kinky tonight?” He asked, taking a sip of the bubbly.

Lisa quickly covered Jordan’s lips with hers. “I’ve been a bad, bad girl,” she mouthed.

I've been careless
With a delicate man
And it's a sad sad world
When a girl will break a boy
Just because she can

Grabbing the stripper pole, Lisa swayed her body to the hypnotic beat. She dropped her body low and made her ass bounce, making Jordan stand to attention. She then turned around and licked her lips. “Like that, Lover?”

Jordan loosened his shirt and comfortably stepped out of his slacks. If his girlfriend of three years was in nothing but her skivvies, he should return the favor and join her. “Hell yeah,” he replied.

Heaven help me for the way I am
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand
But I keep living this day like the next will never come

Lisa then slowly unbuttoned her shirt, exposing enough cleavage to ensure Jordan she was not wearing a bra underneath. She was barely wearing the dental floss considered to be a thong by most people.

She then bent over backwards, exposing her bare snatch to him. The action made Jordan lean closer to her. It was calling him. It was begging Jordan to lick it, taste it, grab it, finger and feel it. He wanted to jump off the sofa and have his way with her right then and there but he also didn’t want to spoil the show she was giving him.

Once Lisa lifted herself from the floor, she walked over to Jordan and straddled him. Before Lisa could further seduce her boyfriend, he surprised her by flipping her on her back. With an index finger, Jordan trailed his finger down her cleavage then to her navel. Her body responded to every touch and she wanted more, but Jordan had a surprise for her.

Jordan then reached over and held the candle above Lisa’s chest. She smiled wickedly as Jordan just stared at her. She was not a fan of hot wax—it hurt like hell, to put it nicely. But she knew how much of a kink her boyfriend was. And whatever he was down for, she was happy to oblige.

Locking eyes with one another, Lisa inhaled as she prepared for Jordan. He let small drops of hot wax fall onto her body. She tensed up a little at the instant pain but soon relaxed afterward. It was a good pain. It was hot and sensual at the same time. And most importantly, it made Lisa hornier than before.

Jordan just smiled at her. He had her exactly where he wanted her—kinky and wet with arousal.

Quickly removing his clothing, Jordan joined Lisa on the chaise. He spread her legs apart and kissed her body, licking around the hot wax droplets. He then scooted down the chaise as Lisa further spread her legs apart for him. He was going down to his prize and Lisa was in eager anticipation.

Trailing his tongue down to her bare snatch, Jordan softly caressed Lisa’s heat. The slight touch alone made her respond by grabbing his hair and pulling him closer to her heat. But Jordan wasn’t having any of that. “Patience, Princess…” He murmured.

“Fuck, patience!” Lisa replied with a laugh.

Jordan chuckled back as his fingers began to caress her mound. It was always like this—a game of ‘one-up’ on each other. She would start the night and he would have to top her or vice-versa. But it was also the kinky game that kept their lovemaking exciting and never dull.

Without hesitation, Jordan grabbed underneath Lisa’s thighs and began to pleasure her. Feeling her lover’s tongue on her was inexplicably delicious and her back arched in more anticipation. He parted her folds and concentrated on her clit, sucking and kissing it, causing Lisa to become more aroused. Soon, her legs began to shake as her body prepared for an orgasm. “Baby…baby…” She panted as her body convulsed, “I’m going…”

“Do it,” he taunted.

With a few more flicks of his magical tongue, Lisa exploded into a heavenly orgasm. She screamed so loud, for a minute Jordan was concerned he woke up their daughter. Then his attention turned back to his girlfriend.

If orgasms were a drug, Lisa was an addict. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her face was at ease and peacefully blissful. But he was only getting started. Kneeling on the chaise, Jordan lifted Lisa’s legs and slipped inside her. She felt so tight and hot on his hard cock and he thought he was going to explode just by merely being inside her.

There was no time for slow and methodical lovemaking, as Jordan set a quick pace. Watching the view from the living room mirror, Jordan had an idea. He turned Lisa around and began to make love to her doggy-style. Jordan cupped her ample breasts and pulled her body upright. “Watch me fuck you, Princess.” He whispered in her ear.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Lisa whispered as she opened her eyes. She saw their bodies slap together as they locked eyes with each other once again. It was too much for Lisa to bear as she felt her body prepare for yet another orgasm. “Oh my God…Jordan…” Before she could warn him again, she exploded in a frenzied orgasm. Jordan soon came afterwards and they both collapsed on the chaise.

“Welcome home, baby.” Lisa smiled.

Jordan wiped the sweat off Lisa’s forehead and kissed her. “Thank you,” he smiled.