Opulence

by Angelica Chase

  I shook off the small amount of pain making its way into my chest. I had no more room for self-pity. I had done it all. I had worked out, tried new hair, new clothes. I had even gone so far as to get Botox. The only conclusion I came to after a few months of being refused in the skimpiest of lingerie was FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM. I had tried to make my marriage work. He was more interested in seeing it fail. Our relationship was too far gone from what it used to be. There was no trust, and definitely no lingering love. I had spent hours crying over him, now I just wanted my freedom. And freedom was becoming more important than comfort. I had to get out of this and soon.

  I sipped my wine, thinking how completely unsatisfying it all was. I had waited until the age of twenty-nine to get married. It seemed the sensible thing to do after a few months of dating Alex. I couldn’t even remember the last time we had made love or fucked. My last attempt to keep the home fires burning had failed miserably.

  “We aren’t a couple of fucking horny teenagers living out a fantasy, Vi. We aren’t making a porno, and what the fuck are you wearing?”

  I gave up that day, throwing every single negligee I owned away and burying any remaining hope. Sex with Alex was never exactly hot. It had been enough because I had honestly loved him.

  Drinking the last of my glass, I poured myself another. Sex, now there was something I was tired of living without. I had my trusty toy. God, how I loved that thing. Battery maintenance promised endless minutes of pleasure. The thought alone had me wanting to reach for it.

  I was thirty-two years old, sitting in a big, beautifully decorated house, imagining the next session with my vibrator. I heard the shatter of the wine glass before I realized I was the one who had thrown it in anger.

  This is not my life! This is not who I am. This shit…this waiting, much like my marriage, was over!

  Things were about to change and change today. First, I had to come up with a plan.

  Sex, or lack thereof, was what set me off in the kitchen. I missed it. I wanted it. I needed it, but why? I’d never really had sex like most adults. Well, those adults who I envied, which included pretty much anyone who was having their needs met at this point. I abstained from having my own affair because, for a short time, I held out hope. Now that my mind was made up on divorce, I no longer had to justify my reasoning. Sex was a necessity for me. I had waited long enough. My body was starving for touch, my lips bankrupt from a lack of kisses. While a relationship didn’t appeal to me, at least not immediately, the thought of a good hard fuck made me insane with want. Not that I’d ever been satisfied sexually.

  My experience consisted mainly of missionary, with a few sporadic moments here and there in various positions. Alex was not well endowed and had by no means made up for it throughout our years together. I wondered what it was like to be with a man with a big cock. I moaned at the thought, never once having an orgasm from a man’s dick. My girlfriend Molly told me that without a vibrator I may never have one. She insisted girls who came with men inside them were either porn stars with amazing acting skills or had been divinely gifted in that department. It was a myth to me, an orgasm from a man’s cock. I’d had fantasies for years about the possibilities of sex. All of it interested me, especially the kink. Alex would look at me as though I was insane when I suggested anything out of our norm. I would get hot and bothered reading all of my dark erotic romances and begged him to try some scenarios with me. Looking back now, I can kind of see his point on why that might seem a little strange. It just wasn’t realistic.

  Do these people really exist, the people that explore the forbidden? Of course they do, but where were they? Certainly not on the outskirts of Savannah, GA. I laughed at the thought. I’d do good to find a decent looking, well hung, hardworking man in this area period, let alone one that would explore my sexuality with me. Then again, what if? I mean, surely the insatiable and erotic sexual cravings of people are not limited to only large cities.

  Where in the hell would I look for something like that here?

  Of course there was the web, but some, or most, of those sites had a virus attached. I’d delved into porn a little when my imagination couldn’t do it for me and I needed a little extra something. That got old as well. I was tired of watching. I wanted the experience. Pouring myself another glass of wine, I ignored the shattered glass on the floor. Who the hell would care about the mess anyway? After all, it was only me here.

  Hours later, after watching Jimmy Fallon, my curiosity brought me back to the web. Fuck it; I’d been the well-behaved, jilted wife long enough. I wanted to know what was out there, especially those like me who shared the same curiosities. I would love to know if any other women in Savannah had a fascination with kink. After a few hours of searching, I stumbled upon a site advertising a local adults only page. There was a large triple X on the screen and a flashing advertisement of what looked like a bar in or around Savannah, but my excitement was stifled when I realized there was no address. After a quick Google search for the bar, named The Rabbit Hole, I came up empty, and gave up. Yawning, I threw my tablet beside my pillow and laid my head down to watch Nightline when I heard a ping.

  I looked at my tablet to see an incoming message asking for the password. After careful thought, I had nothing. I typed my plea.

  Hint?

  Rabbit Hole.

  Not helpful at all. Shit. The possibilities were endless. I studied the XXX on the screen and saw an Alice in Wonderland cartoon encased in them. Inside the rabbit hole, in the middle X, was Alice kissing another Alice on the cheek as she held her pointer finger to her lips.

  Making the best guess I could, I keyed it in.

  Don’t kiss and tell.

  I was immediately brought to the homepage, asked to create a username—Blue_Alice—and started navigating my way around.

  It was a chat room, and from the subject matter floating in boxes around the screen, it was definitely a no holds barred kink fest. Perfect! At least the curious vixen inside me wouldn’t have to show her face for now. I sat for hours in the various chat rooms reading the conversations. Most of them consisted of people hooking up and then agreeing to email in private. Great, hours on the site and I had only gotten a little hot reading what appeared to be an open and unashamed twosome having really kinky message sex. I could read a book and get hotter than this. I was just about to grab my trusty silver bullet and a new erotica book when I got an incoming message.

  MadHatter: What are you doing here?

  I froze, feeling completely busted. I shook my embarrassment off quickly. I had knocked on the damn door, so far so good, why the hell not? I typed my reply.

  Blue_Alice: Looking.

  MadHatter: For what?

  Blue_Alice: Anything but what I’m doing.

  There, honesty. Honesty was good.

  MadHatter: Why so blue, Alice? Bored housewife?

  Blue_Alice: Fuck you.

  MadHatter: So I’m assuming I’m correct?

  Blue_Alice: Maybe, what the hell does it matter?

  MadHatter: We don’t do married here.

  Blue_Alice: I am getting a divorce.

  MadHatter: That’s not a new one.

  Blue_Alice: Keep your boring ass chat room.

  MadHatter: Temper, temper.

  Blue_Alice: I could do a better job turning people on than this bullshit.

  MadHatter: Wow, you really need a thick cock in that sassy mouth.

  Blue_Alice: And I suppose you’re the one who will be giving it to me?

  MadHatter: Why not me?

  I felt my cheeks grow hot and took a deep breath. Okay, now we are talking here.

  Blue_Alice: Fine…talk to me.

  MadHatter: Why are you here?

  Blue_Alice: You already asked me that.

  MadHatter: And you didn’t give me a good enough answer.

  I thought about it. Going into this with honesty would be the only way I would truly get what I wanted. But is this what I wanted? What if he was some nasty, fat p
erv with bad skin and greasy hair? Then again, he may have thought I was some nasty troll with a huge gut and overgrown forest in my pants. I shook my head, indignant at my own stereotyping. Not cool, Vi. This whole scenario meant taking a chance. I had been teetering on the edge of this for years, if I was honest with myself. I wanted to be fucked ruthlessly, worshipped and tortured, brought to levels of sexual awareness I’d only dreamed about. I was sure, no positive, I had an undiscovered fetish or two. Honest, I’ll be honest.

  Blue_Alice: I want to explore a part of me I’ve kept hidden.

  MadHatter: Why?

  Blue_Alice: Because I don’t have anything to lose.

  MadHatter: That’s dangerous.

  Blue_Alice: That in itself is why I am interested. I want to be fucked in ways I’ve only imagined and I’m tired of only feeling half full. I have cravings and I’m ready.

  A few minutes later, I was sure the conversation had ended, then a ping.

  MadHatter: I’ll be in touch.

  Blue_Alice: Wait!

  Okay that seemed a little desperate.

  MadHatter: What?

  Blue_Alice: Who are you?

  MadHatter: I’m the guy with the thick cock you’ll be wondering about tonight while you play with your toys.

  Blue_Alice: Charming.

  MadHatter: I can be.

  And he was gone, if it had even been a he. For all I knew, it could have been a she. This too fascinated me. I thought of women and my sexual boundaries when it came to them and decided one leap at a time. Although women appealed to me from the waist up, I had no desire to explore the waist down. Then again, I’d really never had the opportunity.

  The next day, I brought my iPad on every single errand with the chat room queued up. He could see me, he knew I was waiting. I looked desperate, but I needed this! I felt it in every part of me. I needed to be sexually free. I’d slept with six men in my thirty-two years. Two one night stands, one when I was in college and the other right before I met my husband Alex. The rest were boyfriends and not one of them was a freak, well not in the sense that I wanted them to be. A few got me off with their mouth, but it wasn’t earth shattering. It was more or less a struggle and an enormous amount of effort with constant murmurs of “Are you close?” during what seemed to be rigorous work. So I rarely got off.

  I had, as the mysterious messenger predicted, taken my toy to bed last night, imagining the man behind our brief chat. I was hot in a way I hadn’t been in months at the possibilities alone. This had to be explored. I felt like I was a sexual creature on the verge of finally introducing myself. Once I was home, I unpacked my groceries, praying for the fucking iPad to ping. Just ping! When I got nothing, I decided to forgo cooking and treated myself to dinner at Tubby’s, a nearby seafood restaurant on River Street. I sat on the balcony watching the boats glide down the river while the sun set. Couples passed by below me on the busy street holding hands and smiling while I dined alone. Minutes later I got my usual message from Alex letting me know he wouldn’t be home tonight and I rolled my eyes. Why did he even bother at this point? God, how I hated him.

  Later at home, I thought about looking up some listings to show. I had a real estate license I rarely used and knew it was getting close to time to put it back to use. I was good at it, and I enjoyed it, but when my marriage fell apart I dropped it completely. I had stayed at home for a month solid after hearing Alex’s first conversation with one of his mistresses. I didn’t need to see anything. The prick had no issue talking openly with her behind his office door. If you are going to cheat, at least have the smarts and decency to hide it. The devastating thought that he didn’t care enough to hide is what really drove the knife into my heart. A few months after I had questioned him about his distance, I realized he had no intention of revealing his indiscretions to me. He was simply that fucking stupid. I heard every word he uttered to those women. It was eerily close to the way he used to speak to me. It hurt me horribly at first, now it just made my stomach turn. Why the fuck was I still here? What more reason did I need? He cheated, our marriage was over. I hated him. Why didn’t I just ask for a divorce? PING!

  A wave of adrenaline shot through me as I looked at the screen. It was an address. It was obvious why. It was an invitation and one that came way too soon for my comfort.

  Well that would be a hell no. I wanted to at least have a conversation longer than a few short sentences before I agreed to a rendezvous.

  Blue_Alice: Hello?

  No response came. I already knew the address would be my only message tonight. It was a challenge. He wanted to see what I was made of, if I was willing to step out of my comfort zone. All the reasonable reactions raced through me.

  What kind of person barely introduces himself and then gives an address to a total stranger?

  Then again, what kind of person tells a complete stranger they want to be fucked six ways from Sunday?

  I stared at the address for what seemed like an eternity. Okay, I could drive by. What’s the harm? I would just look around, scope the place out. I could do this. Throwing my blanket off my legs and retiring my yoga pants, I took a scalding hot shower. I Googled the address with a towel wrapped around me, fear creeping into my thoughts. My search, of course, showed only results with possible directions. It had to be a home address. He gave me directions to his home? I shook off the towel, covered myself with scented lotion and took in my body. I had long legs and curvy hips, a little extra weight made them even more pronounced. My breasts were pushing a C-cup, and though they weren’t perfectly proportionate to my hips and ass, I was fine with them. I pulled out a thin black sheath dress that collared at the top, hugging my neck snugly, slipped on my spiked red heels and put on my best face. Thick eyelashes and perfectly painted red lips later, I ran my hands through my dirty blonde hair that I’d ironed straight. I was ready.

  Two small glasses of wine and a mini-breakdown later, I corked my bottle and made my way to my car. You can do this, Vi. You can also back out at any time.

  My cell had no issues navigating the address. My screen map timed my trip to thirty minutes, and in thirty minutes I could be in the midst of possibly the best or worst situation of my life. Then again, I couldn’t imagine anything worse than the one I was already in.

  I had enough heart left to give, I just didn’t give a damn enough to use it. This wasn’t about my heart; this was about a thirst I’d fought long enough. This would be good. This could be my something to look forward to.

  Come on Violet, divorce is not death and you’ve got a lot of living to do.

  Read Chapter One Of MJ Fields NEW RELEASE

  Available Now on Amazon

  Copyright © MJ Fields 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1st Edition Published: March 2015

  Published by MJ Fields

  Cover Design by: K23 Designs

  Cover Model: Bryant Wood

  Photographer: Furious Fotog

  Editor: Veronica Park

  Editor: Kellie Montgomery

  Formatting: IndieVention Designs

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  I prowl around the club in Florence. I need a release. Something warm to tease, taunt, titillate, tame, and tear up. It is not only the lifestyle I portray, it is truly who I am. It has never been my MO to waste time chatting up some romance novel junkie, saying all the things I know she wants to hear to get laid.

  That is why I came here. It’s not one of my places. I won’t lose the respect of my girls, or my clie
nts.

  Tonight, I seek strange.

  I’ve come to exactly the right kind of place. I know this because I planned it. I plan everything. I take in the leather clad wait staff with piercings and tattoos—some of whom are holding whips—this is a no-last-name kind of scene. All fetishes are welcome here. My eye catches on a tall redhead with a nose ring that’s chained to her nipple ring—totally exposed, for all to see.

  Make that welcome, wet, and waiting.

  Nothing good happens on today’s date. Hell, nothing good ever happens these days, aside from orgasms and creating desire. If not for causing the slow buildup to release, and the inevitable double-edged climax, I would feel nothing. But then, usually I like feeling nothing. For too many years, I felt too much. Rage, sadness, jealousy, obsession, more rage...it was fucking exhausting, caring that much.

  Nowadays, I am a shark, coldly calculating without allowing anything to touch me on a personal level. Ironically, this seems to make me irresistible to the opposite sex. It also makes me notice things that most people are too nervous, too excited, too full of desire, or scared to notice.