“Please don’t tell me we’re going to be working past eight because I can’t stick around that long—not tonight.” With my marriage in crisis, my dinner date with my husband was too important to miss.
“There’s also a bit of a problem with one of the celebrity judges,” Ellie informed.
“Which one?”
“Enrique. He canceled at the last minute, and I overheard Josh saying that he’s probably hung over or lying up in bed with his latest boy-toy.” I groaned. “They’re waiting for his replacement to arrive.”
“Who’s the replacement?”
“I don’t know, but I can find out if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’m cool with whoever fills the spot as long as it’s not Baxter Sinclair with his funky cologne and heavy British accent.”
“Should I remind casting of your aversion to Baxter?”
“They’re well aware.”
“Is there anything you need me to do until you get here?” Ellie asked.
“No, not really,” I said absently. My mind was on Maverick and the seduction I planned for him after dinner tonight. Even though I wasn’t exactly in the mood for anything kinky, desperate times called for desperate measures, and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate time to make one of his filthy fantasies come true. I usually only contacted an escort service on Maverick’s birthday, but I needed to indulge my husband’s freaky desires. Too bad I couldn’t delegate the task of contacting an escort service to Ellie, but some matters were simply too sensitive to entrust to others—even someone as loyal and discreet as my assistant.
The driver rolled into the lot, parked, and opened the door for me. Sauntering into the studio I wondered if the rest of the day would go smoothly or if there’d be one calamity after another. Having a heads-up on Josh’s mood, I was braced for a long day of chaos and turmoil. But come hell or high water, I was getting out of there by seven-thirty.
The contestants were hanging around idly while a scene was being set up, and they all murmured excitedly when I made my entrance. I waved at them without breaking my stride. I made it a point to limit my interactions with the kids. Not knowing them on a personal level made it easier not to care when they were discarded like yesterday’s trash.
Ellie, along with my glam squad, hurried toward me. “Not now, not now,” I said, holding up a hand. “I need something in my stomach before we get started.”
“Would you like a green smoothie and walnut-kale salad with sesame dressing on the side?” Ellie quickly suggested.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
While Ellie was busy gathering the ingredients from the Cookin’ with Cori kitchen, I visited the website of an escort service I’d used last year on Maverick’s birthday. The service was known for its discretion, so I didn’t have to worry about anything being leaked to the press, but God forbid if a hacker ever got hold of their files. I shuddered to think of the scandal!
I perused the photos and studied the face of a Russian, blue-eyed blonde named Katya, who was listed as bisexual. Perfect! Pussy-eating bitches drove Maverick wild. I wasn’t into chicks at all, but I went along with it strictly to please my husband.
I looked at Katya once more, and decided that there was something about her close-set, blue eyes that bothered me. I checked out some other girls on the site, but for some reason, I went back to Katya. Those eyes of hers made her appear to be extra freaky. If Maverick’s nasty fantasies were satisfied, he’d be less outraged when he discovered that I’d taken it upon myself to go ahead with the surrogacy plans.
After keying in all the pertinent information and paying the fee for the prostitute to make a house-call, I logged out of the escort service site and checked my email.
I smiled when I noticed an email from the surrogate agency. I printed the form, signed both my name and Maverick’s and then faxed the form back. My husband had better think again if he thought I’d allow our budding empire to crumble over his momentary bout of marital boredom.
After being stuck in that miserable warehouse yesterday, I had a newfound appreciation for my massive dressing room with its bright-pink desk, comfy furniture, and every amenity I could hope for. Despite the bedlam that was ensuing on the set, my world was peaceful.
There was a knock at the door that I assumed was Clayton, anxious to get started on my makeup. The door cracked open and an exquisitely beautiful face with flawless makeup peeked in. “Hi, Cori!” From her tone, one would think that the spectacular-looking, leggy woman who entered my dressing room was a dear friend of mine, but I’d never met her.
“I’m Azaria Fierro; we met at the Emmys after-party last year. It’s an honor to get the opportunity to work on your show. I’m one of the behind-the-scenes chefs at The Food Network.”
All of our behind-the-scenes chef positions were filled on my show, so this slut needed to get the hell out of my dressing room and go back to The Food Network.
“After working behind the scenes, you can imagine how super anxious I am about getting in front of the camera.”
“What?” I scowled at her.
“I’m filling in for Enrique.” She threw a wrist up to her forehead, mimicking nervousness, but there was nothing nervous about this aggressive woman. Today was her big break thanks to Enrique for not being able to hold his liquor. I wished I had a bucket of water for Azaria’s thirsty ass. It was clear to me that she was going to try to outshine me and milk her moment for all it was worth.
From head to toe, she looked exquisite. Versace sunglasses pushed back on a head of thick, russet hair. She wore a stunning red dress that accentuated her prominent breasts and clung to her curves. A Chanel jumbo classic was slung over her shoulder and she wore strappy sandals that I could tell cost a mint. Who was this chick, and why had Josh replaced Enrique with her?
It was my goddamn show, and I didn’t appreciate having female competition. Though I was attractive enough, I wasn’t a sex goddess, not by a long shot. At five-feet-four and wearing a size eight, I was in excellent shape, but was considered short and chunky by Hollywood standards. Although I worked hard at being glamourous, I couldn’t light a candle to this incredibly beautiful woman with a feisty personality to match.
“Nice meeting you, Azaria, but if you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy before my glam squad team comes bursting through the door.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, looking wounded from my abrupt dismissal. Then, recovering quickly, she affixed a fake smile to her lips. “I simply wanted to say hello. I’ll get out of your way. I’m sure your glam squad has their work cut out for them,” she added snidely before exiting.
Fucking bitch! I snatched up my phone and called Josh. “I don’t want that Azaria chick on my show. I don’t understand why you’d pick an unknown chef to be a judge?” I barked at him.
“Azaria is a person to watch, and some of our network bigwigs are hoping to steal her from the Food Network.”
“What do they plan to do with her?”
“There’s talk about a pilot for a thirty-minute daytime show.”
“But no one has ever heard of her.”
“Well, between you and me, Enrique’s going to rehab and she’s a shoo-in for his spot on Cookin’ with Cori.”
“That damn Azaria must be sucking a lot of network dick to be able to slide in here and take Enrique’s job.”
Josh chuckled, and I could tell he was enjoying my anger. “Listen, play nice with Azaria. She knows people in high places,” he cautioned.
I let out a sound of displeasure. “Last I heard, Cookin’ with Cori was my show. That bitch better figure out a way to play nice with me.”
“Did Ellie tell you that we’re shooting some promo stuff with you and the judges after we wrap up this evening?”
“No, she didn’t. But I can’t do it…not tonight. Mav and I have big plans, so you’ll have to postpone the promo
shoot.”
“Everything has already been arranged,” Josh whined.
“I have plans with my husband! Besides, I don’t want to interact with that obnoxious Azaria Fierro.”
“Okay, we’ll shoot around you and fit your piece in with the rest of the cast. Are you available Sunday?”
“That’s my day off and I’m not giving it up.”
“Well, what’s a good day for you?”
“Anytime except tonight and Sunday.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you.” Josh gave a groan, not bothering to hide his irritation with me. I didn’t give a damn about his pissy attitude.
By the time Ellie returned with my food, I’d lost my appetite. I could feel it in my bones, Azaria was going to be a thorn in my side, and I had to figure out a way to get rid of her.
CHAPTER 7
That goddamn temperamental Josh was such a backstabbing cretin. I despised him with every fiber of my being. Well aware that it would infuriate me, he asked Azaria to stand in for me while the promo material was being shot. She was more than happy to take my place in front of the camera. She performed my famous double-flip of food in a skillet so damn well, I wondered if she’d been rehearsing my moves.
Unable to bear watching that hussy wearing my apron and standing in my spotlight, I agreed to work late. Azaria wasn’t supposed to be in the promo piece at all, but she finagled her way into a segment with Norris Buckley. The two of them sat at a table, nodding and smiling as they enjoyed crispy fried chicken, okra, and buttery corn on the cob. Viewers would assume the judges were eating a meal that had been prepared by me, but the food had actually been whipped up by our in-house chefs.
Enjoying herself immensely, Azaria hammed it up, teasingly licking her fingers while batting her eyelashes. Even while acting silly, her stunning beauty was apparent. The bitch looked absolutely radiant and I hated her with a passion for outshining me.
When she began sultrily dabbing at her lips with a napkin, I couldn’t take any more of her bullshit. “This is a family-oriented show—not a porn channel,” I chastised.
The director of the piece had been grinning at Azaria and clearly enjoying her antics, but after I voiced my complaint, he sheepishly told her to tone it down.
Already, Azaria was pretty well-liked, and it was clear that I was going to have to hatch a hell of a diabolical plan if I wanted to get her ousted from the show.
We didn’t finish shooting until after eleven. I’d been trying to talk to Maverick all day, but my calls had all gone to voicemail. I’d left several messages, informing him that I had to work late and apologizing for missing our dinner date. I didn’t mention the escort because I had every intention of canceling the appointment with Katya.
Unfortunately, filming became so intense and hectic, I never got the chance to contact the agency. As close as I was with Ellie, I didn’t dare assign her the task of calling the agency and cancelling. The decadent threesomes that Maverick and I occasionally partook in were nobody’s business, and were something I’d take to the grave.
• • •
Upon arriving home, I heard a low groan coming from our bedroom, and I placed a hand over my heart as dread crept into my chest. A part of me realized there was a possibility that I might find Maverick in bed enjoying the little gift I’d mistakenly given him, but my heart sank anyway. I had hoped that after hearing my messages explaining that I’d been detained, he would have had the good graces to tip the hooker and send her on her way. But no…his selfish ass went right ahead and indulged.
Moving down the hallway, I was so upset, I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I began to feel lightheaded. I paused briefly, forcing myself to fill my lungs with large gulps of air.
I stood outside the closed bedroom door for a few moments and listened to the moans and groans. Maverick was dead wrong, but what could I say when I was the one who’d arranged for the prostitute’s services? Resisting the urge to flee, I bravely gripped the door handle and pushed it open.
The smell of sex was thick in the air. Maverick’s and the hoe’s comingled scent was so pungent, it made me queasy, almost causing me to retch.
The scene inside the bedroom hit me like a gut punch, nearly bringing me to my knees. But I kept myself standing upright by pressing a palm against a wall. My eyes went from the two naked bodies on the bed and then down to the jumble of clothes on the floor. Intermixed with Mav’s clothes were a red dress, black panties and bra, and one red stiletto. The other stiletto had been kicked away from the pile of clothing and was resting against an African sculpture.
Unable to look at the disgusting scene that was taking place right before my eyes, I found myself focusing on the floor, staring at my husband’s shirt, his shoes, his tie. Clothing that was as familiar to me as my own attire. Yet, the man who had shed those clothes seemed like a total stranger to me.
I’d always known my husband had unusual sexual desires, but I thought the fetishes he mentioned while in the throes of lovemaking were merely fantasies—twisted shit that he’d never act upon in real life.
But there he was on his hands and knees, his face pressed into Katya’s buttocks.
It took a few moments for my brain to register what was going on. At first I thought he was burrowing his tongue deep into her asshole, and I gawked at him with my face crinkled in disgust.
Then I felt a huge wave of relief when I realized he was biting her butt cheek, not licking her ass. Had I stumbled upon my husband being in the midst of licking a dirty whore’s ass, I’d never be able to stomach kissing him again.
The escort service had charged an exorbitant sum of money for Katya to fuck and suck my husband and to eat my pussy afterward. But here she was—doing a lot extra—facedown with her golden hair splayed out around the pillow, and her skinny ass tooted upward in Maverick’s face.
Using both hands, he palmed her buttocks, holding them in place as he bit into her flesh.
Loving the savage mauling she was getting, she moaned, bucked her hips, and cried out in passion as Maverick covered her ass and thighs with bite marks. His wedding band glimmered mockingly in my direction.
I wanted to shield my eyes from the depravity. I attempted to run out of the room, but I was transfixed. My husband, the father of our unborn child, was groaning in ecstasy as he sank his teeth into a stranger’s ass.
“Mav.” I spoke his name in a quavering voice.
He didn’t answer me. The way his body tensed and his refusal to respond informed me that my presence was an irritant. He was finally living out one of his twisted fantasies, and he was too caught up to stop and include me in what was supposed to be a ménage à trois.
He and the Russian whore were lost in their own world, completely oblivious or simply uncaring of the fact that I was standing in the bedroom gawking at them.
In shock and disbelief, I could hardly breathe. My voice came out in a choked whisper as I uttered his name, again. He continued to ignore me, and my body sagged against the wall.
I was near tears, but then I suddenly got mad. I became so enraged, I was about to leap on the bed and start fucking up both of them. I eyed the lamp on the nightstand, thinking about knocking Maverick over the head with it. Then I imagined myself yanking that skinny ho out of my bed and stomping the shit out of her.
On the verge of acting the damn fool, I had to remind myself that Maverick wasn’t technically cheating. I had hired the prostitute that was writhing around in our bed.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking from the overwhelming urge to wring a bitch’s scrawny neck, so I tried to convince myself to get a grip and focus. I glanced at my watch and smiled with jubilation when I realized that the two hours I’d paid for had elapsed. The bitch was working overtime and I wasn’t having that.
I cleared my throat. “It’s time for Katya to go,” I said to Maverick, digging my nails into his should
er as I tried to pull him off of the hooker. He was in a weird zone and was no longer behaving like a rational human being. Ignoring me, Maverick continued gnawing on her bony ass. Then he flipped her over and sank his teeth into her shaven pussy.
Apparently, getting her pussy lips ravaged was a major turn-on for Katya. “Oh! Ooo! Maverick, baby. You bite the cunt so very good for me,” she purred in broken English.
“Her time is up, Mav. Get off of her!!” I screamed as I smacked the back of his head. Maverick and I had always been quite civilized and neither of us had ever laid a hand on the other, but he was out of control and clearly required being brought back to his senses in a physical way.
Like an animal fighting for its food, Maverick bared his teeth at me. “I told her I’d pay cash for an extra hour. You’re fucking with the vibe, Cori. Are you going to join us or just stand there and watch?” he snarled, practically frothing at the mouth.
To witness my husband reveal such a primitive side of his nature was startling. I shuddered as I took several steps backward. “You know I’m not into that shit.” My lip was turned up in disdain.
“You hired Katya so she could show me a good time, right?”
I nodded.
Katya twisted to her side and stared at me, waiting for my response. Seeing her face in person was unsettling. Those close-set eyes of hers weren’t the true-blue they’d seemed in her photo on the website. Not that it mattered, but it seemed rather misleading that she was touted as having ice-blue eyes when they were actually a grayish-blue. And they were frighteningly close together, not attractive at all. For some odd reason her eyes reminded me of those of a Siberian husky. I hated those dogs. And I hated Katya.
“Cori, if you’re not going to join in, would it be okay if Katya and I had some privacy?” Maverick asked in a pleasant tone.
It was a reasonable request, I supposed, but I felt like I was in an altered state of reality as I awkwardly left the room. At first I stood outside the door, wondering what the hell had just happened. Then I started debating whether or not I should go grab a knife from the kitchen and go back in the bedroom and start slashing up both their asses.
Power Couple Page 5