Rachel (Women of Privilege Book 2)

by Bridget Bundy

  “Yeah, I got hungry.”

  I’m still looking down at the wrapper again, not hearing anything else Jack is saying. It’s opened and empty.

  “Rachel!”

  “Sorry,” I say while picking it up. “I’m a little distracted.”

  “About what?”

  I want to tell Jack that I found a condom wrapper, but it’ll be pointless. He can’t do anything about it, and how would it look that I’m spilling my marital problems to him? To be perfectly honest, I just don’t care what Grey does anymore. He doesn’t love me. I don’t love him. He doesn’t want to sleep with me anymore. I’m fine with that. He doesn’t want to have sex with me. I don’t want him, either. So, as far as I’m concerned, Grey can stick his sorry ass dick into any dumb bitch he wants.

  “Rachel, if you keep on ignoring me, I’m going to hang up on you.”

  “I’m not ignoring you, Jack.”

  “Then what did I just say?”

  “You asked me what was going on and if everything was okay.”

  “I said something else after that.”

  “Okay, I didn’t hear what you said. I was thinking, that’s all.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Usually, we’re cracking jokes or something by now.”

  “I’m just tired, Jack. I didn’t get that much rest last night, and I’m not feeling well.”

  “Sorry you don’t feel well. You coming down with something? You don’t sound too sick.”

  “I’m just tired,” I reply. “Why don’t we talk later?”

  “Before you go, Rachel, I actually called to tell you something.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I wanted you to hear from me first that I plan on taking Grey to court.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s my conservator.”

  This is new to me, but honestly, I’m not surprised. Grey is greedy. Any way he can put his paws on someone else’s money legally, he’ll do it in a heartbeat and won’t think anything else about it.

  “I didn’t know he had control over your finances.”

  “Yeah,” Jack answers. “First thing he did when we got to Savannah was take me to court.”

  “He’s going to say you’re unfit, Jack. You know how he is.” I hate to sound ominous and negative, but I don’t want him to get his hopes up.

  “Grey can’t just say that, Rachel. He has to prove it.”

  “So, what have you done to show that you’re better? You won’t leave the house. You still drink. You’re not active. You won’t wear your prosthetic limb.”

  “Actually, I’ve been leaving the house. I go to therapy once a week ever since four months ago. I haven’t missed a session, and the doc said that she’ll give the judge a good recommendation on my behalf. Grey won’t have a choice but to give up conservatorship.” Jack sounds so confident and upbeat about it. I’m not so sure.

  “Well, that’s good if you’ve been going to therapy. I hope it works out for you, Jack. I really do.”

  “It will, but you know when it does, Grey is going to be pissed. He’s not going to let you come back over here and help me.”

  “Probably so,” I comment with worry. “When are you going to court?”

  “In a couple of weeks. Grey doesn’t know yet, but he will soon. Please, don’t say anything to him about it.”

  “I won’t, Jack, believe me.”

  “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” he says.

  “Hopefully,” I reply with some optimism. I’m not holding my breath, considering how pissed off Grey was at me yesterday and this morning. I’ll be lucky to not get hit again tonight. “Take care, Jack.”

  “Alright, Rachel. Love you.”

  I look at the phone and quickly hang up. Did Jack just say he loved me? I’m making it into a big deal. It’s not what he said, it’s how he said it. And it sounded casual and friendly, like a normal good-bye. I let it go.

  My attention goes back to the condom. I’m trying to decide if I should throw it away or leave it on the nightstand. I’m leaving it on the nightstand. I’m not going to approach Grey or say anything about it. I just want him to know that I know.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seven in the evening, Grey walks through the door like a tornado. He doesn’t come to the nook, but he does go directly to the basement. I hear him descend the steps. I go to the hallway to listen. From what I can tell, he’s not talking on his cell phone, but I hear beeping sounds. The door is cracked only a little. He must be checking the computer to see if I left the house today. Don’t know why he went downstairs when he can always access the security footage on his cell phone. Maybe, he’s doing something else. I’m not going to ask.

  Eventually, Grey comes back upstairs, locking the basement door behind him. He enters the living room and walk right into the nook to sit down. I put baked chicken on his plate along with green beans and mashed potatoes. A glass of sweet tea is already on the table. I remain standing, waiting for him to make a demand of what he needs. Grey starts eating and after a few seconds of nothing being said, I join him. My plate is already on the table. I take small portions of food for myself.

  “I got a new client,” he says as he cuts into the chicken.

  “I need a break.”

  “What in the hell for? You didn’t do anything all day long. You didn’t go anywhere.”

  “This is the third day in a row, Grey. I really need a break.”

  “They live in Midway. Andrew will be taking you tonight.”

  I push the plate away.

  “You can always leave,” he says nonchalantly. “I’m not making you sleep with these people.”

  “You can shape it in your mind however you want, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. You threatened my-”

  “Who went outside the marriage, Rachel?” He stops cutting his chicken and looks at me. “You did, and I gave you a choice.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice, Grey. You threatened my mother.”

  “If you would have kept your legs closed, you wouldn’t be a professional slut right now. Everything you’re doing is on you, not me.”

  “Fuck you!”

  Grey slaps me with the back of his hand. I grab my face in utter shock. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, and my face begins to sting. Grey throws his plate off the table, and it lands all the way in the living room. I try to get up, but he grabs me by the collar and yanks me closer so that we’re face to face. He smells of alcohol, high priced cologne, and chicken.

  “You are one stupid bitch! You lucky I don’t fuckin’ kill you! Don’t ever say that shit again! You hear me! Fuck me! Fuck you!” He hits me on the side of the head and lets me go. “Stupid bitch, I swear. Go get your ass ready, and whatever the fuck they want you to do, you better do it. I better not hear you pulling that same shit you pulled last night.”

  I nod, trying not to make eye contact.

  “Wear that leather shit and hurry the fuck up. Andrew will be here in a minute.”

  I rush out of the nook. Each step pounds at my head. I take a quick shower and put on what he says. All I’m thinking as I get dressed is to just remain calm, don’t cry, and stay positive. I’ll be gone in a few minutes, and whoever I’m with will treat me ten times better than that asshole. Sad that’s all I have to look forward to is sex with a stranger.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We’re an hour away, south of Skidaway Island, in front of the Dixons’ driveway. Andrew was on the phone the whole entire drive talking to a girl, and now he’s put her on hold. He peers down the darkened road, hoping to get a good look at where he’s going.

  “Man, I don’t like driving in the woods at night,” he says. “Can’t see shit out here.”

  The house is nestled down a hill, and there’s light coming from a second floor room and on the first floor. The scenery behind the house is dark, but there’s a light reflecting off a moving surface; perhaps, it’s a lake or a river. The driveway is cornered by t
wo brick posts. One has the house number. The other has the resident’s last name etched into the cement on the side. It reads: DIXON.

  Andrew turns slowly into the dirt drive and continues at a snail’s pace down the steep hill. We get to the turnaround where a working fountain is in the middle. A light is on in the first room.

  “If you have any problems, you know what to do,” Andrew remarks before returning to his phone call.

  Even if I get beat to a pulp tonight, I wouldn’t call him. He does nothing when Grey is going off on me. Why would I want him to rescue me now?

  Trying to get out of the car proves near impossible. My leather pants are too tight, and I’m about to bust out of my leather halter top. Just wearing the clothes makes me tired. I climb the steps, hoping I don’t look silly, and I ring the doorbell. I take a deep breath, let it out, puff out my hair, and flip it to the back. Right as the door open, I put on a winning smile. All of my troubles are in the car.

  “Rachel?” a blonde hair woman says.

  “Yes.”

  “Please, come in.” She steps aside and looks out the entrance. “Do you want your chauffeur to come inside? I don’t mind.”

  “He prefers to wait in the car.”

  “I see,” she says. She closes the door and locks it. “My name is Evelyn Dixon. You can call me Lynn.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lynn.”

  This woman is a platinum blonde with blue eyes, and she’s taller than I am. She has long pale legs under a very short leather skirt. The leather tube top she’s wearing does nothing to contain her breasts. Her hair is in a pony-tail that falls to the middle of her back, and she’s wearing dark smoky make-up, which washes out her pale skin even more. Under her made up façade, I can tell there’s a woman who’s smart as a whip and in charge of her life.

  Her home is opulent beyond measure. Expensive framed paintings are in the foyer, a Spillray style chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and rounded staircases on each side of the foyer meets at the center on the second level. The floors are marble. I’m just hoping I don’t bust my tail in my heels.

  “Why don’t we sit down in the sunroom?” she offers. “Have a few drinks before we begin.”

  “Alright,” I remark cautiously.

  I follow her through a library or study and living room before reaching our final destination. The sunroom actually makes me feel like I’m in a green house. Large ferns hangs from the ceiling and sets in pots in wrought iron stands. The furniture is wicker with soft lavender cushions. Sprays of orchids and sunflowers are in vases on almost every flat surface. There’s a hint of vanilla hanging in the air. It’s a big room, windows all around and in the ceiling. I wonder what the scenery outside looks like during the day. It has to be beautiful.

  Two glasses and a bottle of champagne is chilling on the coffee table. I can’t really tell if the alcohol is expensive or not, but it doesn’t matter, and I don’t care. I’m going to drink more than my fair share tonight. I have to mentally prepare myself for tonight’s festivities, seeing how I may be in bed with another woman.

  “Have a seat,” Lynn says. “I hope you don’t mind having a drink with me.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all.” Actually, I’m relieved.

  “Before the evening begins, I was hoping you and I could talk a little. Get to know one another.” Lynn hands me a very full glass and sits down. “Grey has told me a few things about you.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “He says that you are very discreet, which is very important. You’ve never tested positive for venereal diseases, and that you love to satisfy every customer you come in contact with.”

  “I can’t imagine how my tests results would come up in a conversation between you and Grey.” I’m not into chitchats with clients, and this one is no exception.

  “Considering the services provided, your health status was utmost important, and it was the first topic of discussion that was brought up. Rachel, understand, I love sex, but I don’t like it at the expense of long-term…issues.”

  “Well, I am healthy, and every client wears a rubber.”

  “Oral copulation?”

  “It depends,” I remark. “I’m very picky when it comes to…sucking dick, and to be blatantly honest, I don’t eat pussy.”

  “A whore with limits. Such novelty.”

  I’m getting real impatient with her. “Mrs. Dixon-”

  “Lynn. I prefer you call me by my first name, please.”

  “What is it that you want from me this evening?” I ask her.

  “Have you ever fucked a woman?” she asks, seriously staring at me.

  “I didn’t know a woman could fuck another woman to be honest.”

  Lynn laughs. Her manicured hands touch her chest as she leans forward. I wasn’t trying to be funny.

  “Yes,” she says as she recovers. “Have you ever wanted to try?”

  “Am I here to sleep with you?” I respond.

  “What if I said yes?” She finishes her drink.

  I sigh, thinking that I should have known that eventually I would land in bed with a woman. Money is money to Grey. Any way at my expense that he can get it.

  “Well, I guess there’s always a first time,” I answer.

  Lynn laughs again. I finish my drink and pour another one. If I’m sleeping with this woman, I need to be totally wasted.

  “Rachel, you don’t seem like a high priced hooker. How did Grey find you?”

  “I’m his wife,” I flat out answer.

  “His wife?” Her eyebrow lifts. “He pimps you out to his clients, and you don’t mind?”

  I finish the drink in one gulp and pour one more.

  “You do mind,” she says.

  “Oh no,” I say, feeling a little dizzy. “I love being a hooker. The benefits are spectacular.”

  She catches my sarcasm and says, “The last thing we want is a problem.”

  I have to convince her at this point that I want to do this. I’ll have major, major problems if I walk up out of this house without completing the job. I reply with poise and confidence, “Grey and I are in agreement with this lifestyle. I love having sex, and he loves making money. It works out for the both of us.”

  “Excellent. Then I think we can begin.” Lynn finishes her drink and stands up. “My fiancé is upstairs. As a last parting gift to his single life, I wanted to give him a present. You are that present. Are you ready?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lynn’s pet name for her husband is Dodge, and Dodge is on the bed, spread eagle and butt naked with a cock ring on his dick. His wrists and ankles are tied to the bedposts, and his mouth is covered with a red silk scarf. He’s wearing a diamond encrusted black leather collar around his neck. Dodge is looking at me with wide eyes, and he’s pulling at the binds anxiously. I’m not sure if this guy is tied up on purpose or by force, but from where I’m standing, he looks like he’s petrified.

  I glance at Lynn, who is devilishly smiling at him. She blows him a kiss, and I swear I hear him barking like a dog. Then my suspicions are confirmed. His head goes back as he howls. His rear end lifts up off the bed, making his hard penis sway like a flagpole in the wind. I want to laugh so badly. It’s taking all of my will power not to do so. Why would he let her tie him up and leave him in bed while talking to me downstairs? And furthermore, why would he let her call him Dodge? That can’t be his real name.

  “Rachel, do you mind if I turn on some music?” she asks sweetly.

  “Uh, no, I don’t mind at all,” I reply, still amazed by what I see.

  Lynn strides over to a circular light switch and twists the knob. The regular light fades, giving way to rotating lights and a descending mirror ball over the bed. Hard beating techno music starts up, and Lynn begins dancing over to her fiancé. Dodge is moving his hips and head to the beat. She takes off his gag, and they playfully growl at one another. Then she struts back to me.

  With delicate hands,
she moves me around to face her. She pushes my hair back off my shoulders, touches my cheeks, and kisses me. Lynn glides her tongue between my lips, and I savor her taste of strawberries and peppermint. Eventually, she stops and looks to Dodge for approval.

  “Beautiful, baby, beautiful,” he says.

  Lynn unzips my halter top in the front and takes it off. She turns me around to face Dodge and fondles my breasts in front him. My breath quickens from her touch. Her hands are soft. She feels so damn good.

  “I like her tits,” she says while squeezing them.

  “I like them, too. Oh, I like them a lot.” Dodge tugs at the straps attached to his wrists.

  Her hands moves down my belly and around my hips. Slowly, she unzips my pants on the side and pulls them down completely. I step out of them and my shoes.

  “Good gracious!” he yells, trying to sit up more. “Her pussy shaved, baby! We’re gonna eat that tonight!”

  Lynn stands behind me again, gently kissing my shoulders and caressing my lower belly. “Rachel, tastes good, honey.”

  I close my eyes and indulge in the attention. It’s the first time all day long I’ve felt wanted.

  “Touch her pussy, baby! Put your finger down there!”

  One of Lynn’s hands move up to my breast. The other move in between my legs. I hold my breath anticipating her touch. Her tiny, cool fingers slide in between. I let go of a relieving sigh, drowning in her delicate touch.

  “You like that, Rachel?” Lynn whispers in my ear.

  My head is swimming from the alcohol and lust, but I manage to answer with a cooing yes.

  She begins moving her fingers back and forth while gently holding my breast. I back up close to her, widening my legs.

  “Dodge, she’s wet.”

  “Let me feel her, baby,” he begs. “Please, let her sit on me.”

  “Go sit on his dick, Rachel, and ride him hard.”

  Lynn’s touch disappears, and I come out of my lustful coma. I turn, looking for her. She nods at me, giving me the okay, and I go over to the side of the bed. A condom pack is beside his hip. I grab Dodge’s penis. He begins moving his butt up and down, even as I remove the ring, and I replace it with the condom. I can’t help but to notice the length and width of his package. It’s swollen and unusually long.