Jayson whispered her name once more, and then looked at himself as he stood naked in front of a full-length mirror against the wall across from the bed. His blood was pumping as he thought about her. He was sweating from the heat of his thoughts.
“Jesssss.”
His father would have been proud.
His cell phone chimed melodically suddenly. Picture mail had come through. He went to his phone, hoping with a smile that the picture was from Jess. A good-bye treat. But his hope and smile quickly fell away when he saw that the mail hadn’t been from her.
Regina.
His picture whore.
She’d sent another one. A picture of her pussy with her finger inside of her. In one week there was going to be something else inside of her. Jayson couldn’t wait, not because he wanted her, but rather because he just wanted to be done with her. Truth or dare was no fun with Regina because she just sent picture after picture without direction, and that wasn’t how the game was played. You didn’t just perform without a request being made.
Jayson shook his head as he stared at Regina’s perfectly shaved pussy with thick, dark lips, her middle finger halfway inside of it. Nothing about the image aroused him because he hadn’t asked for it. He didn’t want to add it to her folder because it didn’t belong. It didn’t have anything to do with the game. He thought about deleting it for a moment, and even brought up the option to do just that. But instead, he changed his mind, chose forward, and sent it to his e-mail. It would be added, and it would be used if she bothered him after he was done with her.
Jayson tossed his phone to the bed and put his focus back on Jess. The woman of his dreams. He looked at himself in the mirror again and imagined touching, caressing, sucking, and moving inside of her in tune, his rhythm matching hers. He inhaled the scent of her again. “Jess.”
He grabbed hold of his manhood. Heart and blood pumping, his hand became Jess’s and began to move back and forth.
Chapter 28
Fifty thousand dollars. Candy had seen this much money on TV, in the movies and in her dreams, but never in person. It was surreal. It was almost hard to believe what she was looking at, that what lay before her in a black duffel bag on the middle of the plush, queen-sized bed she had been sleeping on for the past several weeks was actually there.
For a split second she just stared at the wrapped greenbacks in the bag, almost afraid to touch them for fear that the money would disappear. But that was only for a split second. Candy, whose name was really Shannon, couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face as she went to the bed and shoved her hands into the sea of crisp, green paper.
“Half. Just like I promised you. You’ll get the other half in a few days. Then you can leave.”
Candy stared at the stack of one hundred-dollar bills for a moment, and then looked up at the man who’d given her much more money than she had ever planned on getting from him. Seven weeks ago, he had pulled up to a stop beside her as she stood on the corner that cops avoided, driving a jet-black Jaguar with tinted windows and chrome rims. For a few seconds the car sat idling quietly, its windows remaining up, keeping the driver’s identity concealed.
A street-corner prostitute since the age of sixteen, Candy was accustomed to cars pulling up beside her, so that hadn’t bothered her, but what had was that the driver hadn’t lowered the windows. That just wasn’t the way things worked.
After the driver pulled up and lowered the window, she stepped forward, looked into the car with a smile, and said, “You looking for some fun?”
The driver, typically a male, would look at her, sometimes with a nervous expression, other times ravenously, and would respond that he was.
Candy would then open the car door, get in, and say, “Let’s go into the alley.”
The driver would comply and go into the alley just around the corner. There, Candy would negotiate a fee for her sexual favors. The more involved the service requested, the higher the dollar amount. Once established, money would be placed into her hand, and then whatever the customer wanted, he got.
For ten years that’s what Candy was used to. What she wasn’t used to was the driver just sitting there, and it made Candy uncomfortable. So much so that she had looked behind her toward the shadows by the alleyway and made eye contact with her pimp, Bishop, who was never far away with his .22. Just as she was about to give him a subtle nod, the Jaguar’s passenger window slid down. Minutes later, Candy was sitting in the Jag, parked in the alley, asking the “john” who, by the tension in his body language, had obviously never done anything like that before, what sexual favors he had been looking for.
In ten year’s time, Candy had heard it all. Her clients wanted hand jobs and blow jobs. They wanted vaginal penetration and anal sex; they wanted to sit and watch her touch herself while they jacked themselves off. No request surprised her.
Until that night.
“I’m not looking for sex.”
“So what are you looking for? You want to watch me play with myself?”
“No.”
“Do you want to jerk off and let me watch?”
“No.”
Confused, Candy eyed him skeptically, then slid her hand into her purse and closed her fingers around a small can of mace she had concealed inside. “So then, what do you want?” she asked, her grip tight, her arm ready.
His eyes focused through the windshield, the john said, “I want to pay you one hundred thousand dollars to stay with me for as long as I need you. I want you to take pictures of your body. Of you doing things to it—sexual things. I don’t want you to ask any questions. I don’t want sex. You won’t have to worry about food. You’ll have a refrigerator stocked with it. You won’t have to worry about clothes. There will be outfits for you. You’ll have a soft bed to sleep in, cable TV to watch. Say yes and one hundred thousand will be yours guaranteed. Oh ... and until I’m finished needing you, you won’t be able to leave. Do we have a deal?”
Until that night, Candy had never been surprised. But until that night, she’d never been propositioned that way and money like that had never been discussed.
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
Candy took a glance through the windows of the Jaguar. “Am I being pranked? Is this America’s Funniest Home Videos or something?”
“No and no.”
Candy tightened her grip around her mace. “Are you crazy?”
The john shook his head. “No. I just need your services.”
“And you’re willing to pay me one hundred thousand dollars?” Candy asked, her eyebrows raised skeptically, her lips twisted into a disbelieving smirk.
“Yes, one hundred thousand. If you don’t want it, then get the fuck out of my car so I can find another whore who does. If you do, then we leave now.”
Candy snapped her head back. It may have been true, but she still didn’t like being called a whore. She looked at the man as he watched her with unblinking eyes that seemed almost ... sad. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” It was a statement, not a question.
“No,” he answered his tone flat, no-nonsense.
“One hundred thousand?”
“In cash.”
“And you just want pictures?”
“And your silence, yes.”
“What do you plan to do with the pictures? Put me all over the Internet?”
The man frowned.
She was irritating him, she could tell.
“You make a living selling your ass and sucking dick for money for far less than what I’m willing to pay you. Do you really give a shit what I do with the pictures?”
Candy raised an eyebrow again, and then took a glance through the tinted window. Bishop was out there watching and waiting for his 90 percent of whatever it was she was going to make. One hundred thousand, she thought. Ninety percent was ninety thousand. That was a hell of a lot of money to give up. If the amount was real.
She turned her head and looked at the stranger wit
h the depressed expression. “Are you a serial killer?” she asked.
The man sighed. “If I were, do you think I would tell you?”
Candy stared at him. He stared back, sad and businesslike, waiting for her answer. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she believed him. She took another glance through the tint. Bishop had stepped out of the shadows, no doubt the lack of moaning making him wonder what the hell was going on. Candy turned and looked at the stranger. “My pimp Bishop has a .22. When you drive, you better drive fast and keep your head down.”
“So we have a deal?”
Candy thought about it. One hundred thousand dollars. With the percentage Bishop took, she would have to sell a lot of ass and suck a lot of dick to make up that much money. She nodded. “We have a deal. Now drive.”
The man put the car in drive and slammed down on the gas pedal. As the car peeled away down the alley, Candy lowered her window, stuck her arm out, and raised her middle finger in the air. Gunshots rang out behind them, and she quickly pulled her arm in and slumped down. Three bullets came through the rear windshield. Candy screamed and threw her hands over her ears. Miraculously, the stranger, who never once bothered to duck low, hadn’t been hit.
That was seven weeks ago, when Candy had been prowling the street corners in leather and lace, trying to make enough to keep from being slapped around. Now she was gazing at fifty thousand dollars, cold cash. And it was all hers.
She looked up at her benefactor, whose name she didn’t know, as he turned and walked away. In four days, he would give her the other half of her money, and then she could leave. She looked back down at the cash and smiled. For this kind of money, she’d be his prisoner for as long as he wanted.
Chapter 29
Reggie stood in his bathroom and stared into the mirror above the sink and saw the shell of a man that he used to know. A man, who, despite a few extra pounds, had once been fairly handsome. A man who used to shave every day because he hated facial hair and thought it made him look unkempt. This man also used to shave his head bald at least twice a week. This was done to conceal the balding at the crown of his head.
Reggie stared at him. The man in the mirror stared back. He had a seven-week-old beard, and hair sprouting from everywhere but the top. Reggie used to know him. They used to be good friends. But that had been before the heartache and depression.
Reggie looked into the stranger’s red-rimmed eyes, eyes that looked as though they hadn’t closed in weeks. In four days, the man in the mirror was going to become a killer, and Reggie was going to do nothing to stop him.
Chapter 30
Four days later, Jess sat in front of her laptop with a thudding heartbeat. She was about to do what she knew she had to do the minute she’d broken down in her car before leaving the Gramercy Hotel, the scene of her crime. She was supposed to have done it two days earlier, but she backed out because she’d felt bad.
Before she’d left Jayson’s room—although nothing had been set in stone—she and Jayson had spoken about seeing each other again.
“How soon can I see you again?”
“I don’t know. Esias doesn’t go away often.”
“I can come back in two weeks. Do you think you can get out?”
“For a whole night? I doubt it.”
“What about a girls’ night out? Would he have a problem with that?”
“No. I don’t go out much, but I do the occasional ladies’ night.”
“So let’s plan for it.”
“We can try.”
“You have me hooked, Jess. I don’t think I can last longer than two weeks without feeling you again.”
“That would be nice.”
“So ... two weeks ... back here?”
“I can’t promise anything, but let me see what I can do.”
Jess sighed as she turned on her laptop. In a few minutes she was going to tell Jayson that two weeks wasn’t going to happen, because it couldn’t. Not again. A one-night stand. Technically, that’s all their night was. She felt bad about that, not because it was the right thing to do, but rather because Jayson was a good man who didn’t deserve to have that done to him. So two days ago, she had backed out and skipped her seminar to avoid him. But now she sat ready and determined to take the first step toward redemption because she needed to be able to look her husband in the eye again. She needed to be able to look at her girls and feel the pride she felt before she’d done the unthinkable. Until she closed the book to a very dark chapter in her life—however short it had been—she couldn’t face Esias; she couldn’t be her daughters’ example. So as Windows loaded, Jess sat still, ready, and desperate to get it over with.
She’d lost herself over the course of seven weeks and as she had, her marriage had suffered. Esias was an imperfect man who was absolutely perfect for her, and for the past few weeks, she had treated him like shit. He didn’t deserve that. Her girls hadn’t deserved to see the man who loved them more than anything in the world get half-assed treatment.
Jess took a breath, and then moved her arrow to the AOL icon. Jayson would be waiting for her, she knew. She didn’t know how he was going to take what she had to say, that after tonight, the game was officially over. But, she couldn’t worry about that. The time had come to get back on the right path.
Chapter 31
I can’t see u again, Jayson. I’m sorry.
Jayson closed his eyes a bit. The words on his screen glared back at him with the intensity of the summer sun in the midafternoon, shining down without a cloud in the sky to block its rays.
He read Jess’s words again, as though reading them would somehow make them go away. But they didn’t.
Say something ... please.
Jayson sat still for a few seconds as his heart began to hammer beneath his chest. This wasn’t the conversation he’d expected them to be having. After the night they’d had, the magic, the confirmation that they’d been made for each other, he anticipated them talking about their next time together, and the continuation of the forever that had begun.
She wanted him to say something. Jayson clenched his jaw, then leaned forward and typed. Wht do u wnt me 2 say, Jess?
I wnt u 2 tell me wht ur thinking.
Jayson closed his eyes a little bit more. Wht I’m thnkng ... He paused, worked his jaw again, and then continued. Wht I’m thnkng is tht u knw wht u jst said 2 me is bullshit.
It’s not.
U don’t wnt 2 end ths.
I do. I hve 2.
Bullshit.
Jayson ... I can’t do ths anymore. I hve a family.
No regrets. Rmembr? U said tht.
I knw I did, but ... but it was naïve of me 2 thnk tht it was possible 2 do smthng so wrong and not regret it.
It wsn’t wrng, Jess. It was rght, and u knw it.
I’m sorry, Jayson, but it can’t happen again. None of wht we’ve been doing can.
Ur jst scared, Jess. Ur scared bcuz as much as u wnt 2, u can’t deny how rght it is btwn us. This dsn’t hve 2 end.
Yes, it does. This is unfair 2 my children and 2 my hsbnd.
Ur not in luv wth him.
Yes, I am.
Ur lyng. Ur in luv wth me, Jess. I saw it in ur eyes.
Jayson—
Leave him and b wth me.
What?
Leave him and b hppy wth me.
I can’t do tht. U r crazy.
Crazy in luv ... yeah, jst like u r.
U r a good man, Jayson, and I care abt you, but I’m not in luv wth u, and u r not in love wth me.
Jason cocked an eyebrow at her statement. O no? Thn wht r my feelngs exctly, snce u seem 2 knw?
Lust, Jayson. U r in lust wth me. Tht’s all.
Jayson clamped his hand over his head and squeezed his temples with his thumb and index finger. “Lust?” he whispered, the tone of his voice heavy with angered incredulity. Lust?? Wht r u now ... a mind readr?
Jayson ... wht happened between us at the hotl ... the texts and the pics ...
it’s all been incredible, but none of it had anything 2 do wth luv on either of our parts.
Jayson applied pressure to his temples again. He could not believe she was saying the things she was. He shut his eyes tightly, applied intense pressure to his temples, took a deep breath, and blew it out hard. Then he responded, Now tht is defntly sum real bullshit.
We were satsfyng each other’s needs, Jayson.
Jayson’s mouth dropped open. “Satisfying ...” he said. He looked at her words with wounded bewilderment, then typed, Wht the fck???
Jayson ... please ... dn’t do this.
Dn’t do wht, Jess?
Dn’t get ignorant.
U jst clled me ur fckng maintenance man!
That’s not wht I meant and u knw tht.
Not wht u meant? U said I was satsfyng ur fckng needs!
For the last time, Jayson ... I’m asking u 2 not b ignorant wth me. I dn’t mean it tht way.
Jayson slammed a closed fist down on his table. “Bitch!” he yelled out. He typed, U said I satsfied ur needs!!!
U r takng my words the wrng way.
U knw wht, Jess ... u r a fckng liar.
Excuse me?
The connection we hve isn’t abt goddamnd lust. It’s luv. I knw it, and u damn well knw it 2.
Jayson—
U luv me.
I’m sorry, but I dn’t.
Jayson shook his head. She didn’t mean that. U dn’t mean tht.
How r u gng 2 tell me wht I do and dn’t mean?
The same way u tld me wht I’m really feelng 4 u.
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