A pearl white 2008 Cadillac CTS sped effortlessly through the winding roads of the hills to a destination unknown. Beams from the sun reflected off of the flawless paint job and chrome dubs centered in the middle of the rapidly rotating tires. Inside the black leather interior with Sapele wood trim and chrome accents sits a businessman without a conscious. He is a cut-throat entrepreneur available to the highest bidder at any time and any place with the know-how to stay in demand above all other competitors.
Justin Timberlake is a self-proclaimed vampire. He has a way of walking into a room, sorting out the weak from the strong, and honing in on what he calls the need. They have that look in their eyes, all of them, his victims, where there is nothing but loneliness and hopelessness ahead in their lives. They are all perfectly preserved skeletons usually born into their wealth or married into it for so long that they believe they possess a divine right to anything and everything that they want. When they see him he instantly becomes one of those things that they want and of course he will be all that they desire…for a price.
Skimming his fingers over his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee he stares vacantly out of the windshield and at the road set before him. In the five years that he has been in the profession he has made enough money to be set for the rest of his life but still his thirst for more is insatiable. He just doesn’t know if that thirst is for more money or for more attention. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get off on the lingering stares and whispered affections from his clientele. He treats them well but they, of course, treat him better. They can afford to.
The thousand dollars per bang is nothing in comparison to the gifts he’s been showered with after secret rendezvous. Several platinum and diamond Rolex wristwatches have become a part of his private collection and all carry his initials J.R. Most of the women refer to him as such because they do not know his full name nor will they ever receive the opportunity to learn it. To them he is simply J.R., their provider, their secret lover, and the best kept secret in their privileged community. They pay him double and triple the required cost just to keep it that way. They know they aren’t the only ones that he services but they pay him like they are from the watches, jewelry, and Armani suits to the entertainment systems, home décor and automobiles. They take care of him and J.R. takes care of his ladies.
“It’s Sunday,” her sultry voice whispers breathily into his ear and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip in response. “Did you turn your other phone off?”
“It’s been off since twelve,” he replied into his cell phone now steering his luxury automobile with one lazy hand. “You know the drill. No fucking on Sundays and Sundays start at midnight.”
“You and your rules, J.R.,” she chortles seductively, “does that mean you’re unavailable to me as well or is that just what you tell all of those old hags to get them off of your cock for thirty minutes?”
“I work six days a week, Amelia, don’t you think I deserve one day off to relax?”
“You can relax…after we’re finished.”
Justin groaned inwardly already feeling himself growing hard at the thought of her. Amelia Crosby was a stone cold fox with long auburn hair, piercing blue eyes, and naturally full lips that the other desperate housewives paid doctors to inject collagen into. She had been one of the first cougars that he had come across in his profession and definitely his biggest mistake. He hadn’t had his nifty set of rules back then. In fact, she was the reason that he had written up his introductory monologue in the first place. They hadn’t fallen in love with one another but they had both definitely become obsessed.
At the time Amelia had been married to a wealthy oil tycoon whom just couldn’t cure her itch. The old man definitely had tried to satisfy her but he wasn’t naturally equipped with the tool size that she longed for. She’d gone out looking for her fix in other places and at a soiree with the girls she happened upon Justin. He hadn’t fucked anyone in that circle yet so Amelia became the first. She cut him a check for eight hundred dollars there on the spot and he fucked her in the guest bedroom of one of her friends’ home until her throat was raw from her screams of pleasure. That started the trend and for the next several months they met at public parties, she stuffed a check into his back pocket, and he’d shove his dick inside of her.
It was a year into the arrangement that things began to fall apart. Her husband began asking questions about their bank statements. Who was she writing all of these eight hundred dollar checks to? Who was this man? Was he extorting her? After so many arguments Amelia could take no more. Instead of confessing her betrayal she simply filed for divorce stating irreconcilable differences. She had been born into money so she wasn’t affected by the loss of a man that wasn’t even worth half of what she was economically speaking.
Justin had taken it as a lesson learned. He no longer accepted checks. He didn’t need a trail linking the women to him or him to the women for that matter. Cash was the only form of payment he accepted and it was always upfront before the fucking ever began. Due to the fact that he was undergoing a certain amount of risk traveling to the homes of these women and pleasuring them in the beds that they slept in with their husbands, he decided to form several other rules as well. He was in and out as soon as they came even if he hadn’t come himself. He didn’t make friends with them. He didn’t want to know their personal lives he just wanted their money.
“How much are you paying me, Amelia?”
“How much do you want?”
“All of it,” he stated seriously.
“How many times can you fuck in one day? I’ll pay you fifteen hundred for every time you get it up.”
She definitely had him standing at attention there. “Well you already owe me fifteen hundred if that’s the case, sweetheart. Same place as always?”
“The back door will be unlocked.”
Quickly ending the call Justin tossed the phone into the passenger’s seat and replaced the emptiness of his hand with the package straining against the material of his pants. He did not fuck on Sundays. That was a rule. It was his rule and Amelia was aware of that. She knew that he didn’t make exceptions but she also knew that for the right price anything, even a day off, could be bought.
“Fuck,” Justin cursed under his breath as he thought about all of the money that he would be losing if he didn’t do this one thing. If he put his dick in her just two times he’d make three grand and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t enjoy making his money with her. Amelia was an animal in bed but, shit, he had obligations. He couldn’t just change up the system to make one greedy bitch happy. She’d probably tell all of the other girls he’d serviced that he’d caved in and the next thing he’d know they’d all be clamoring to get a piece of him on his sacred day.
“Amelia?”
“J.R.?” her voice was teasing as she answered his phone call after three rings.
“You know I can’t make it out there today. It’s Sunday.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just thought that with the right incentive I could change your mind.”
“You almost did,” he admitted with a weary half-grin. “Take care.”
“Call you Monday,”
Once hearing the dial tone his thumb quickly moved over the numbers on the phone. Clearing his throat he brought it back to his ear and listened patiently to the ringing on the other end. With a glance toward the clock on his dashboard he read that the time was fifteen minutes to ten.
“Hello?” the sound of a young woman’s voice yawned out sheepishly.
“It’s me,” he reported before the question could be asked. “Is she ready to go?”
“Yeah,”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t bullshit me this time,”
Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
’neath the cover of October skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I’m trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the nights magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
Posing in the vanity mirror Cynthia held her hair atop her head and peered over her bare shoulder at her reflection. She seemed to posses a glow that she hadn’t months before. Her skin seemed to be illuminated with tiny specs of gold and to have tightened just enough to give off the appearance of renewal. She smiled in awe at what a difference a few arrangements had made in her overall physical as well as emotional appearance.
Cynthia Davenport felt like a new woman. There was a sparkle in her eye and pep in her step whenever she walked into a room. The girls had been whispering about it and congratulating her on what they knew was a leap in the right direction. She laughed jovially exposing her bright smile whereas in the past she had chuckled into her hand not wanting to draw attention to herself in the group. She wore short dresses and heels in direct contrast to the flats and slacks that had become a part of her daily uniform. Even the men in their community had taken notice and stopped to chat with her on her way in from luncheons and shopping with her friends.
“Gorgeous, darling,” she puckered her lips and burst into a fit of giggles before releasing her hair and letting it drape around her face and shoulders. Doing a complete 360 degree turn she took in the improvement and tone of her body. She had been spending more and more time in the gym to keep in shape despite the fact that her lover had mentioned she already looked to be in peak condition. She was starting to look like an attractive woman instead of a somewhat attractive grandmother.
Cynthia tugged the straps of her dress over her shoulders and then began to shimmy the material down her body. She was impressed with the fit seeing as she hadn’t been able to fit into a size eight in years. Smoothing down the wrinkles of the material over her stomach she stole one last glance at herself before stepping into her high heels and traipsing out of the room and down the stairs to the front foyer of her home. Today was a special day and she couldn’t wait to begin the festivities.
The front door opened just as she made it to the first floor. Her husband, Franklin Davenport, stepped casually inside while raffling through the bundle of mail in his strong hands. Smirking to herself she flipped her hair over her shoulders and pressed on. He would not ruin her day. She was feeling too good to let him bring her down.
“Frank,”
“Cynthia?” the distinguished looking older African-American gentleman with salt and pepper hair raised a curious brow as his porcelain wife walked by him in a short black dress and high heels with her hair hanging over her shoulders in shining ringlets. “You look different.”
“I feel different,” she smiled over her shoulder at him on her way to the door that hung agape after his entrance into their home. “Is Christine outside?”
“Yes, she and her friend, but Cynthia…?”
“Yes, Frank?” she paused at the door and released a deep sigh into the air before turning to give him her complete attention.
“Have you been working out? I see you’ve done something new with your hair.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders elusively. “I’ve had plenty of time by myself in this house to throw something together and take care of myself. How is Melanie?”
Frank swallowed down the lump in his throat at the sound of his assistant’s name coming from his wife’s lips, “She’s fine. She’s still working hard at the office and…”
“Sounds great, Frank,” she nodded dismissively and spun on her heels to head out into the warm summer day to greet their one and only child.
Tall and thin with long auburn hair curled loosely at the ends was Christine Davenport, the only child of Mr. & Mrs. Franklin Davenport, an aspiring model and actress. Throwing her head back in laughter she stood just outside of the SUV her father had used to pick her and her friend up from the airport with the straps of a Louis Vuitton duffle bag in her hands. Her grayish blue eyes squinted in the sun with her laughter and her mother smiled from the distance while making her way down the front steps of their home.
“Zephyr, you’re a cut up!” the young woman laughed and reached up to dab at the tears at the corners of her eyes with the pad of her middle finger, “As your friend I also feel like it’s my duty to tell you that you’re a bit slutty as well.”
“I learn from the best, bitch,” the voice of the golden brunette whom sat on the floor of the SUV with her long bare legs stretching out into the open and flip flops stationed against the ground retorted with a sarcastic chuckle. “You’re the one that introduced me to Cal in the first place.”
“Well Gavin told me that he was a good guy,” Christine shrugged her shoulders.
“And of course you’d listen to Gavin on other men, right? Your boyfriend’s the biggest slut I know which makes you perfect for him.”
“He’s a fox. I’m not throwing him back!”
“Whore,” Zephyr Connolly rolled her dark brown eyes and reached down to adjust the tube top that she was wearing. “How long before you ditch the old people so we can go out?”
“As if spending a month in Hawaii wasn’t ditching the old people?”
“I’m just saying that we haven’t been in town for a while. I’m sure there are some exclusive gatherings that we need to crash just so no one forgets our names.” The young woman reasoned.
“As if anyone would forget Zephyr and Christine,” Cynthia’s voice broke into the conversation and Christine immediately turned around to tightly embrace her mother. Zephyr shifted her feet quickly as to avoid her toes being smashed by the sudden release of the expensive duffle bag plummeting toward the ground.
“Mom, oh my god, look at you! You’re as tiny as I am!” she took a step back to take in the full picture of her mother.
“Well, I’ve been working out,”
“We can tell,” Zephyr climbed out of the SUV to deliver her best friend’s mother a hug as well. “You look good.”
“Thank you, girls, how was your vacation? I can see you both definitely did some tanning!”
“As if Chrise’s mixed butt needs a tan. She’s already got that gorgeous honey skin tone.”
“Hater,” Christine mumbled under her breath at her best friend before wrapping an arm around the other woman’s middle. “So what does dad think about this makeover?”
Cynthia shrugged her shoulders, “I’m honestly not all that worried about what your father thinks right now.”
“Ha! Go, Mrs. D!”
“Still not so on right now?” Christine’s face crumpled with worry.
“No, no, we’re fine,” Cynthia lied and her daughter knew it but both forced a smile anyway. “I wanted to take you two out to lunch today. Is that okay with you or did you have plans?”
“What time were you trying to go?”
“Now,” she chuckled lightly. “I wasn’t really thinking things through. This is kind of a last minute thing…Zephyr, did you need to go home and see your parents first?”
“Nah,” she shook her long wild hair, “those fogies will live. They probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone. Where do you want to eat? I’m game.”
“I was thinking The Charleston Château? I’ve heard rave reviews about it.”
“Oh,” Christine nodded her head, “that opened while we were in Hawaii, huh? I was saying that I wanted to go there to see what it was all about. It looked lovely even during construction.”
“Great,” Cynthia clasped her hands together, “just let me go and get my purse and keys and we’ll be all set!”
Zephyr turned to her friend as the older woman darted away in her heels, “Chrise, your mother’s been getting some outside dick since we’ve been gone.”
“Shut up!” Christine burst into laughter and began to walk away.
“That woman is way too happy for her own good and, trust me when I say, I’m only that happy after I’ve gotten some.”
“Maybe it was daddy?”
“And maybe I just threw up in my mouth a little bit…”
He sat in the car for an hour as the fury raged on within him. Sundays were his days but somehow she always had an excuse to take even that away from him. The arguing was instant and the sharp words stung even before their delivery. He hated her more than he hated anyone else on God’s green earth but she was a thorn in his side that he would have to deal with for the rest of his life.
“Come back in two hours. Maybe she’ll be here…” she sneered viciously and tightened her folded arms as if to reinstate that the conversation had ended.
“Every Sunday at ten-thirty she’s supposed to be with me. I’d hate to have to take your ass to court over this bullshit. You can’t keep her from me.”
“I wish you would take me to court, Justin. How are you going to explain to them how you’ve got all of this money without having a job?”
“I’ve got a job, bitch, so don’t you worry about what I do.”
“Fucking is not a profession. Just because you’re good at something it doesn’t mean that that’s what you should devote your life to.”
“I’m devoted to her and nothing else. Have her ready by noon or I’ll have the cops so far up your ass they’ll be helping you blow your nose.”
Turning the knob and pushing open the door he stepped inside and breathed out a sigh of relief. If he could relieve this tension even for a moment he would be thankful for it. Just as he had expected she was already there waiting for him in diamond earrings and nothing more.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Amelia cocked her head to the side.
“You left the back door open,” was his reply as his fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“Fifteen hundred, correct?”
“You’ve got two hours. What have you got for daddy?”
Lyrics Credit: Moondance by Van Morrison
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