Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. (10 page)

Monday—August 22, 2011

H
ow’d you talk him into that?” Ursula Ellington asked her son after taking a seat at his desk in his home office.

He typed away on the keyboard, looking back and forth between his two computer monitors. “I pitched a business plan to him.”

“You did? For a search engine?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Interesting.” She looked conflicted. “Virgil, why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“It popped into my head one day when I was in class, and then when I went to work I started doing some research on what it would take to get it started.”

“I see. How far along have you gotten on it? What does it do?”

He spoke fast. “Mom, I’ll show it to you once I get it launched. It’s a website.”

“Okay. You think maybe I can see the business plan?” She crossed her arms.

“Ask your husband for it,” he said, still not looking at her.

“He said he deleted the e-mail.”

“He did, huh? Oh well.” He shrugged.

She arched her brow. “At least tell me what it’s called. He said it’s a like a search engine. Maybe I can start spreading the word.”

“Don’t. It’ll jinx things.”

“Virgil, I really wish you weren’t so secretive. This is good. You should share it.”

“Darrell gave me what I needed.”

“Two million dollars is what you needed? That much?” She looked unnerved.

“It’s part of the money it’ll take to get it registered and designed and off the ground. Marketing and promotion is a whole other cost.”

She gave a deep exhale and uncrossed her arms. “My goodness, my son the inventor.” She looked around. “All of these gadgets and diagrams. I guess it’s good. Just make sure you can pay him back. That’s a lot of money.”

“You married a man with a lot of money. He’s good.”

“Good or not, it was a loan. Stick to the terms, Virgil. Make this work, please. Besides, there’s a lot of money and attention going into this campaign right now. We need to be careful with our finances.”

“I know.”

She persisted. “At least tell me the name of it.”

He sighed like he’d rather not, but did to get it over with. He finally took her into his sights. “It’s called HackAttack dot com. And it’s not a search engine. It’s a website that tracks hackers and shuts them down. It’ll identify them and undo the damage they’ve done. It’s one of a kind. But I don’t want anyone getting the idea yet. Even in the proposal, I didn’t disclose the name of it. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”

She smiled. “Oh, my. That’s amazing. How do you go about that? I mean, how would you get one step ahead of them?”

“High-tech sensor devices that identify hackers based on keystrokes. Mom, I can’t talk about it anymore.”

“Okay. My goodness. Son, that’s great. Congratulations.” She stood and headed for the door.

“Thanks.” He returned his attention to the computer monitors.

She turned. “Oh, and another thing. Your stepfather and I had a conversation over the phone this morning about, well, your new job at Google is coming together and things are gearing up with the campaign and all. We thought maybe the timing might be right for you to start looking for your own place. I can help you look, of course, but if you’ve got some stable income now, plus your father’s death benefit from the insurance policy payoff when you turned twenty-five, it just might be a good time for you to move out. If, of course, you think you can afford it.”

Virgil looked right at her. “Mom, can we talk about that later, please? I’ve got to prepare a PowerPoint presentation for tomorrow. Trying to get this done.”

“Sure we can. When?”

“Later.” He glanced down at his work. “This house is a monstrosity. Six bedrooms and six thousand square feet, and you make it sound like I’m in the way.”

She replied with a soothing voice. “Of course not. It’s not about us having room.”

“Like I said. Let’s talk about it later.”

“Okay.” She was quiet and then seemed to press Virgil again for an answer. “I really want to let Darrell know what you and I agreed to the next time I talk to him. He’s out of town until the weekend.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

Virgil shook his head, knowing his stepfather was behind his mother’s insistence. “Nothing yet. Tell him I don’t know. I just need a little bit more time here.”

She nodded but looked conflicted. “Okay. But really, you should think about it. I mean, you’re twenty-eight and we’ve never lived apart. I’ll miss you, but maybe you can get some place close by. I’ll let him know we talked.”

“Yeah. You do that. Tell him I’ll talk to him about it later.”

“Will I see you for dinner, son?”

“I doubt it.” He clicked the mouse.

“Okay fine. Bye.”

“Uh-huh.”

Virgil was braced and ready for his stepfather’s passive antics.

Game on.

Friday—August 26, 2011

B
eryl was out on a Friday night and it was almost midnight.

Kemba lay nude along the black sheets in their bed with only the light of the television. He was exhausted after two appointments that day, but he couldn’t manage to doze off. He tossed and turned and channel-surfed, praying for sleep, knowing he had another appointment at nine o’clock in the morning.

His phone signaled a text. He knew it was Beryl saying she was on her way home. He picked up his cell and saw that the text came from Dallas. Ursula.

Can you talk?

His immediate reply was,
Yes
. And one minute later, his phone rang.

“Hello.”

Her voice was soft. “Hi there. Sorry it’s so late. My husband is out of town and I’m alone. Couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s cool. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, were you trying to? I’m sorry.”

He assured her. “It’s fine. Glad you called. How are you, beautiful?”

“Okay, I guess. Just have a lot on my mind. Some good, some not so good. But one of the good things is I can’t stop thinking about us, about the time we got together. It was so good, so satisfying. I can’t get it out of my head.” She sounded sad.

He said, “I understand. I feel the same way.”

Ursula sniffled and then was silent.

He waited and then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She sniffled some more, and her voice sounded weak. “I’m fine.” Then she started breathing heavy and began to weep.

“Calm down.” He turned onto his back.

“It’s just…” She gave a loud sigh. “I have this life. It’s turning out to be more and more public. I put on a happy face, but honestly, my sex life is the worst. My husband is a sex addict.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, maybe he just has a high sex drive.”

She seemed apologetic. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t share these intimate details with you. This is wrong.”

“Listen, it’s okay if you need to get it out. You can talk to me. I’m a man and I know men.”

She sounded congested. “He’s gotta have it all the time. I can’t satisfy him. I can’t be with him every minute. He’s out of town now and there’s no telling what he’s doing.”

“Have you caught him cheating before?”

“No. But I just know he’s up to something.” She sniffled again. “Kemba, he wakes up jacking off. He was doing it four times a day. If I turn him down, I know he’ll be even more apt to get satisfied elsewhere. And if I don’t turn him down and agree to have sex, I pray that it’s over each time. It’s so mechanical. So about him. So non-tender.”

“I’m sorry. You deserve better than that. Have you talked to him about how you want it?”

“We’ve been to couples’ counseling where we discussed it. He wasn’t completely honest with the counselor because he didn’t want them to know the whole truth. I asked him recently about taming his sex drive.”

“Was he open to it?”

“He was in denial. He says he’s down to masturbating once or twice a day.”

“That’s gotta be tough on you both, I’m sure.”

She said, “I’ve never cheated until now, and you’ve proven to me that just like I imagined, I can be with someone I’m compatible with in bed.”

“Being compatible is about more than sex. If it’s good in other areas, I’m sure you two can work this out. If you both want to, that is.”

“That’s the million-dollar question…do I want to?”

“True.”

She was almost whispering. “He does these predictable things, and watches me when I get in bed, every step I take when I walk around, and then pulls out his penis and jerks it. I feel like an object. Then he directs me on the way he wants it, telling me to lay on the bed as he stands over me and demands a blow job, then eventually has fast and sweaty sex with me while he talks this corny sex talk. He doesn’t even notice if I grind back or talk or have an orgasm.”

“Does he try to please you, like eating you out?” he asked, feeling himself getting hard.

“Oh, that’s just going through the motions. He does not know what he’s doing, at all, and I just fake it to get it over with. It’s awful. It’s hell.”

He took hold of his dick under the covers. “I would think he’d try and please you to get you ready first, or ask you to try new things. If I was your man, I would take care of your every need.”

“If.” She was quiet.

“I’d find your tender spot and work it out.” He massaged his tip with his thumb.

“I know. You did. I was watching to see what you were doing. You must have gone to Pussy Eating University. Shit.” She sucked her teeth and moaned.

“I did.” He began stroking himself fully. “I keep thinking back to watching you come when my face was between your legs. How wet you got. Your pretty clit. Damn, girl.” He gripped himself tighter.

She sounded turned on, too. “And you. Your dick is made for my pussy. I keep imagining what it felt like with you inside of me. I think about it even when I’m with him.” Her tone shifted, like she was trying to get a grip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand.” Kemba didn’t dare tell her that he thought about her while he was having sex with Beryl. He only said, “We were good together, you and me.”

She cleared her throat and then said, “I’ve got to go. He’s calling right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

He felt his stiffness subside. “Okay. Bye, beautiful.”

“Bye.”

Kemba hung up and removed his hand from himself. He thought about what could happen if Ursula wasn’t married, and if he wasn’t in his situation. Would he be ready for a regular, closed relationship? Not the type where the man has sex for money, brings his dick home to his woman, and the woman is out all night getting her freak on, then bringing her pussy home to her man.

He believed it had to get better and that regular was ahead of him.

He aimed the remote at the TV and pressed Off, turned to his side, his dick now completely soft, and within five minutes fell asleep.

Beryl came home after five in the morning, and he awoke to her sucking his dick.

He thought of Ursula, the politician’s wife, and they fucked until well past seven.

Monday—September 12, 2011

M
idori had seen Bailey quite a few times since she and Virgil had broken up. Bailey had been unveiling new ways to live out his fantasy scenarios, like having her dress and talk like Marilyn Monroe while he got on his knees before her, eating her underneath her dress and growling like a wild animal. Another time he blindfolded her and wanted her to pretend he broke into her room to rob her, then have her beg him to fuck her.

He did all of this while claiming to not be able to get enough of her. As freaky as he was, she kept taking his money anyway. Kept showing up in spite of him pushing the limits. She felt a mix of despising him for what he craved and a feeling of almost seeing it as her comfort zone.

The cash had been counted and Midori lay with Bailey in the lavish hotel room. He had a look of paranoia in his eyes. Paranoia mixed with love.

He said to her, “I think you’ve been staying away from me on purpose.”

She explained, “I haven’t. I’ve just been busy.”

“Well, you’ve been making me wait way too long to see you.” He turned on his side to face her.

She looked up. “It’s called setting an appointment. A date and time that works for us both, not just for you.” She tried to catch a glimpse of the digital clock without Bailey noticing.

“I’m guessing you really don’t need the money anyway.”

“I haven’t needed money in a while.
Need
is the wrong word. It’s a want. I want money. I want to feel I have enough saved to make a decision. All of this will stop. So get all you can while you can.”

He lifted his head. “What does that mean?”

She looked over at him, seeming impatient. His lips were chapped and she could smell his stale breath. “Bailey, what do you want today?”

“I’m confused. Why do you even keep seeing me? It’s not like you give a damn.”

“Because I want to. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over and propped a pillow under his head. “I think it’s more. I think you’re feeling me more than you admit.”

She gave off a small chortle. “Bailey. Let me tell you something. I’m smart enough to know that the reality of any hooker, prostitute, escort, streetwalker, call girl, whatever you want to call it, getting snatched up by Captain Save-A-Ho and living happily ever is nil.”

“I beg to differ. I’ve heard of porn stars who find the right one and get married. What do you want?”

She gave a sigh. “Bailey, the question is what do
you
want? Tonight. Now. What new and exciting kinky game do you want to play?”

He said, frowning, “You’ve got someone, don’t you? I know you do.”

“Actually, I don’t. Now tell me what you want.”

“Whoever he is, I hope he takes the time to look deeper than what you do for a living.”

“Oh, and you do, huh? Bailey, I’m no last-resort woman. Let me tell you, I’ve been through some things, maybe not as bad as some people. But any man who doesn’t understand me for my good and my bad sides, and love me through it instead of judging me for laying on my back for money and nothing more, can kiss my ass. It might be embarrassing to some, a sin, sick, perverted, whatever, but everybody has a story. It’s usually the ones throwing the stones that have the most fragile houses of their own. Fuck them.”

He nodded. “Uh-oh. I see I hit a nerve.”

“Bailey, stop.” She looked back up at the ceiling.

“I would love you. I do love you.”

She sat up, scooting herself back. “I can’t figure you out. First of all, you spend a lot of money and I understand why you do, but maybe one day you’ll find someone who will love you through all of your stuff, too, and you’ll trust someone enough to tell them about what kinky crap you like, and then you can stop having to pay, as much as I enjoy the cash. They say find someone just as fucked up as you are and live happily ever after. You’ve never told me if you ever had a girlfriend. That’s on you. I don’t usually take time to even go that deep with clients, but honestly, you are really hard to figure out. And, I still don’t know why you told Money that I tore up that hotel room. Was it so she’d forbid me from seeing you again, so we could make arrangements like this on our own? Whatever.” She popped her tongue. “Shoot. I try to be nice and still come back to be with you, but most women you pay would think twice—not that I haven’t, mind you. And then you keep telling me you love me when you don’t even know me, don’t have the slightest idea about who I am. And I don’t know about you either, other than you get your rocks off by having sex that feeds your fetishes.” She looked away. “I have to ask you to please stop saying you love me. It’s just the fantasy for you. But it isn’t a fantasy for me. It doesn’t flatter me or make me want to see you anymore. It actually makes me want to stay away from you.”

“I love you.” His words were sweet but his eyes were sour.

“Stop it.” She stared right at the clock and turned her body to face him. “Look, I know one thing, it’s getting deep into your hour. Is that what you want tonight, to talk?”

“I wanna play.”

“Then get to it, please. Enough with the conversation. I can’t take anymore. You want to spank me, choke me, make me bark, call me names, drop hot candle wax on my nipples, what?”

He pointed to the wooden slats of the headboard. “I want to handcuff you and pretend you’re my prisoner.”

She didn’t blink, only asked, “Where are the cuffs? Let me see them.”

He sat up and looked into a bag next to the bed. He handed them to her. “Here.”

They were heavy metal with a lock, short chain links between them, semirusted like they’d been used before. “And where’s the key?”

“Right here.” He held the tiny key in his hand.

She looked at the key and again at the cuffs. She shook her head. “Sex worker rule number three is, never get tied up or cuffed.” She looked certain.

“I’ll uncuff you.”

“I can’t take that risk.” She handed them back to him.

“You don’t trust me?”

“Honestly, I don’t trust anyone.”

“How about one hand?” he suggested.

“I could still be stuck here.”

He put the key on the nightstand, and then suddenly looked up at the ceiling and in a flash, threw the handcuffs across the room, against the wall.

Midori jumped out of her skin.

He gave her an evil stare.

She hopped up and stood, backing away from the bed, keeping an eye on him.

He hurried to where she was, looking furious, and whacked her straight across the face with the palm of his hand.

Her head jerked to the left and she put her hand on her face. “Owww, shit! What the hell is wrong with you?”

His nose flared. “Why are you not following my orders?”

“Your orders?” Her eyes bulged. “Bailey. You just hit me.”

He tightened his jaw and raised his hand and smacked her again along the same side of her face.

Her head jerked again and she took a step back, trying to focus through a dizzy, stinging haze. “What is your damn problem?”

He stood next to her. “Shut the hell up. If you’d like, I can call the police right now. What do you think would happen to you? You’re a paid whore. If I want to fucking cuff you, I’ll cuff you. Now get back on the bed.”

She kept her hand to her cheek, looking pained and stunned. “What is this about, Bailey? What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong is that you told me no. You violated the rules.” He looked unstable, raising his hand again.

She put up her arm up in defense. “Okay.”

“You’re here because you love me, and you know it.”

“Bailey.” Her voice begged him.

“Aren’t you?” He seemed ready to swing again. “Lower your arm.”

She retreated, putting her arm down. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it. I’ve never heard you say it. Say you love me.”

She spoke the three words slowly. “I love you.”

“That’s better.” He put his hand down and gave a snarling gaze.

She tried to take a step around him toward the sofa where her clothes were, but he blocked her, bringing his body to bump hers. “Bailey, just let me go. Let me go and that’ll be it. I’ll never say another word about it.”

“Hell no. I came here and paid you and I want what I paid you for. I want it rough. I want to take it. With force. Do you hear me?” His breath was again close enough for her to smell.

“Yes.” She blinked fast. Her sad eyes were glassy.

He yanked her by the arm and dragged her to the foot of the bed. “Now bend over.”

Midori braced herself and bent over, the side of her face along the mattress. Her cheek stung and her ear was sore. From behind, she could hear Bailey at least slap the latex from the condom onto his dick, like he could catch something from her more than she could catch something from him. She shut her eyes tight, which brought the release of her tears down her cheeks, and he plunged into the puckered skin of her anus like it was her vagina. She gritted her teeth and held her breath, heart thumping in panic against the mattress.

His rant was livid. “You don’t tell me no, you hear? I’ll take what I want. If I want to cuff you, I’ll cuff you. You’re talking about who you don’t trust. You show up in hotel rooms with strange men who could end up taking your life and you have the nerve to suddenly have fucking boundaries. I’ve tried to be nice to you. I told you how I feel, but that’s not enough.” He kept pumping away.

She kept grimacing.

“You tell me it’s my fantasy and then you reject me. I don’t know how much more you think I can take. You got me this way. You made me have to take it. It’s all your fault. It’s your fault it has to be like this. This is what can happen when you’re a dirty little whore who fucks strangers. You never know who the hell is gonna be inside of you, getting off because you are a dirty hooker.”

Midori just listened and fought off her anxious screams. She stayed quiet and waited, hoping he’d finish and get it over with. Would he be done with her soon? If so, she vowed, it would be the very last time she’d ever see psycho Bailey Brenner again.

He continued his punishment. His words were irate and kinky. “Never been in an ass this tight. I like it in here. And I’ll have to do it again. I like the feel of this grip. It’s like my dick could blow up inside of you. You’d better be glad I didn’t bring my nine-millimeter and stick it inside of you. I’m about to. Yeah. That’s a good burst. Coming in that ass all because you told me no. See.” He gave an angry grunt and shot his sperm inside of the condom, again grunting longer and deeper, sounding like he was in pain. And then he seemed to instantly snap out of it, yanking himself out, simply saying, “Yeah. I took that.” He backed up like he was the man.

She slowly stood, feeling degraded and humiliated, just as he wanted her to feel. She looked over at him with hate.

His wild eyes shifted from her face to his dick to the bathroom door. He stepped to the door, cupping his hand under his dick.

When he was one foot past the bathroom door, Midori had her eyes on her purse and her dress along the sofa. As soon as he was two steps in, she dashed over to her bag, snatched it up, grabbed her dress, and bolted to the door, leaving her shoes, panties and bra there. She was gone before he could step from the bathroom to the living room, and to the room door.

Midori ran butt naked to the stairwell like she was doing a forty-yard dash, down the five flights of stairs, at the same time tossing her dress over her head, slipping into it before she darted out of the stairwell door that led to the lobby.

She hailed a cab back to her place, and from the moment she left the hotel room until the moment she got home, Bailey called. She turned her phone off, headed to her bathroom, and checked out her face in the mirror. Her cheek was scarlet red and her nose was scratched. Her mascara was smeared from burying her teary face in the mattress. She turned on the water to her shower and stepped inside, finally letting out her cries. She sobbed so heavily she could barely breathe. She rinsed herself with a bar of soap and washed her vagina. She inserted her middle finger and realized how wet she was. She smelled her finger, then inserted it once more, smelling it again, realizing it was her own juices. She’d had an orgasm. Her heart thumped in her chest and she gulped hard, wishing the evidence of her turn-on wasn’t a reality.

She washed her achy face and sore body, making sure to clean every orifice over and over, and washing her hair. Then she repeated it.

Within a half hour, she lay on her sleigh bed naked, just staring at the walls, still crying. She curled up into a fetal position and cried herself to sleep on top of the covers, wet hair and wet eyes, until the sun brought on a new day.

She awoke and frowned at the rays of the sun, realizing it was not a dream. She was raped, but couldn’t report it.

She finally turned on her phone and there were eleven messages from Bailey saying he was sorry, and she deleted them all.

The last one was a voice mail that she hadn’t expected to hear. “Midori, something told me to call you. I couldn’t sleep all night. Money gave me your number. We miss you. We’re sorry. I’m sorry. And I just wanted you to know that above all else, I love you, wildflower. Mom.”

Without hesitation, Midori pressed 7 and erased it as well. Her estranged mother’s voice did nothing to soothe her abused soul.

Next there was a text from her booker. Midori had been requested back again to be with Mr. 81, Dr. Feelgood, for a weekend. She needed to fly out to Puerto Rico on September 23 for three days. She took in a long breath and then gave an equally long exhale.

And cried some more.

For the tragedies of her past.

And the fact that her mind was taught such sickness that still lived in her head.

She said out loud, “One day.”

Praying that day would come sooner than later.