by Dee Dawning
New Dawning International Bookfair
Presents
An Erotic Novel
By
Dee Dawning
Copyright © 2010 Dee Dawning
Thanks a Million!
An erotic story of greed and lust
Chapter One – The Christmas Party
When Dana walked into the cramped bathroom of their tiny one bedroom apartment, Fallon urged, “Hurry up darling, we’re running late.”
He studied her lovely image in the mirror while she applied her make-up, she flipped a wayward lock of hair into place. Gazing back, she smiled and raised her reddish brown eyebrows. “You like?” She asked, playfully sultry.
What’s not to like? Fallon was a knockout. Intense green-blue eyes complimenting her creamy complexion and cascading, fiery red hair. Her turned-up, pointed nose and red lips that seemed to beg, ‘kiss me’, completed her royal, oval shaped face.
Dana bent over and kissed his wife of eight month’s lovely neck. “Oh yeah, I’m digging it. You seem to be pulling out all the stops for this party. Is that a new dress?”
Her smile widened. She pushed her chair out, rose and dipped her head once. “Don’t worry, I know we can’t afford luxuries right now. I borrowed it from Vivian. We’re both size six you know.” Modeling the strapless, sea-green chiffon cocktail dress for him she turned, sashayed two steps from him, spun on her four inch heels and returned. “What do you think?”
He chuckled. The mirror revealed a devilish smile had formed on his lips. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think Bo Derek is a fraud. If she was a ten, you’re an eleven or maybe a twelve. You’ll have all the men at the party drooling, and the women as green as your dress, with envy.”
Fallon elevated a single eyelid and cast a coy smile. “You really think so.”
“Ah-huh. I know so.”
Glancing back in the mirror, she flipped a stray tuft of hair in place and blotted her lips. “I think I’d like that.”
Yeah, she would. He knew his wife, and that’s exactly what she’d like—attention. Attention was something she commanded her whole life, from beauty pageants, to cover girl model, to what she was when he met her—the principal showgirl in the hotel’s variety review. He was still amazed he convinced her to marry him. Not that he wasn’t attractive enough for Fallon. He was and his dark handsome countenance was probably the reason he swept her off her feet.
At the time she’d been untouchable—Stuart Wynne’s private stock, but the hotel owner hadn’t tied her up and he dared to go after her. After a whirlwind courtship, they tied the knot, Vegas style in one of the ubiquitous marriage chapels Vegas has to offer.
He’d been a pit boss when he married Fallon, but went back to dealing so he could make more money. Still, two-fifty to three hundred a day didn’t seem to be enough to get ahead of the ever present bills.
Finishing her makeup, she glided up, and chided him for not being ready, “I’m ready. How come you’re not?”
“I am ready except for the stinking bow tie, which I can’t seem to get the hang of. Can you tie it for me? Please, Baby?”
“All right, but you need to learn how.”
* * * *
The Hotel Odyssey held their annual Christmas party in one of the larger meeting rooms in the convention area. Several guests congregated in the hallway talking, drinking and some smoking. He didn’t recognize any of them, but apparently his wife did. She paused, and nodded to a yummy looking woman, who hitched her head for Fallon to come over. “You go ahead Dana, I’ll be right along. I want to say hi to Michelle.”
She strode over to Michelle while he plowed ahead into the meeting room. Two hundred people must have been in attendance. Realizing he shouldn’t wander too far from the entrance or Fallon might not be able to find him, he went to the closest service bar. He ordered scotch on the rocks, and a glass of Merlot for Fallon. As the bartender poured the drinks, the casino manager, Marty Bennett came up to him and offered his hand. “Merry Christmas, Dana,” he said in his New Yawk accent.
“Hi Marty, thanks, and Merry Christmas to you as well. How are the twins doing?” His wife Burnett, had identical twins about five months previous.
He smiled and put an arm on Dana’s shoulder. “They are growing like weeds. Thanks for asking.”
“And Burnett?”
Marty chuckled, “Busier than a one legged kick boxer. Where’s that gorgeous hunk of flesh you’re married to?”
“Fallon? She stopped out in the hall to talk with someone named Michelle.”
Marty creased his lips. “Ah-huh. Pretty girl, long dark hair, and a smile like Marie Osmond?”
Dana elevated an eyebrow. “That’s her.”
He nodded, “That’s Michelle Bosco. She runs the ‘Chez Vegas’ show.” Is your wife planning on rejoining the show?”
Dana shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
* * * *
Stuart Wynne, CEO of Wynne enterprises, raised his commanding baritone voice. “All right Fallon, you made your point. Are you ready to come back to me?”
She’d accompanied Michelle to the study part of Stuart’s opulent thirtieth floor penthouse. Where Michelle had gone, she had no idea. She studied Stuart, tall with deep blue eyes, and short dark hair with a touch of gray. She’d gone with him for two years when she was principal show girl, and really loved him…or his money, she couldn’t be sure. Regrettably, at the time, he belonged to someone else. Now, though she was tempted, she couldn’t—she had married Dana. He’d warned her that Dana was a loser, but she’d been in heat. He was so gorgeous, like a movie star. “I can’t. You know I’m married.”
Stuart rolled his eyes and sneered. “Humph! To a dealer, what’s he make? A hundred grand?”
At Stuart’s sarcastic inquiry, her vision wandered past Stuart to the bright lights of the ‘Las Vegas Strip.’ “Eighty,” she replied casually.
As she took a seat, he repeated her answer, “Eighty?” and laughed derisively. “I make a thousand times that. See, he’s not even a good dealer. Is he any good in bed?”
Her gaze shifted back to Stuart. He’d gone too far and her nostrils flared in annoyance. “Yes, the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He raised a single skeptical eyebrow and cupped his chin with his left hand. “Really, at least he’s good at something. Maybe, I underestimated him. How am I?” Stuart asked boldly.
She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to say the worst, but she couldn’t do it. “The second best.”
“Out of how many?” he asked with a mischievous tone in his voice.
She uncrossed her legs and sat up, knees and legs together. With her eyes narrowed and chin stuck out, she admonished him. “A gentleman would never ask that of a lady.”
The expectant look of his face changed to a frown. “Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
Stuart’s blue eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips curled up. “Then, my dear, if your husband is the best lover you’ve ever had and I’m the second best, you haven’t lived until you’ve had us both…simultaneously.”
Initially, she was shocked by his audacity. Then, as the idea sunk in, a tiny ember of yearning ignited in her core. Wouldn’t that be an interesting scenario? “Well,” she said in a huff, “that certainly isn’t going to happen.”
A grin of confidence formed on his face. “Don’t be so sure, sweetheart. Tell me, if your husband agreed, would you go for it?”
The ember grew and burst into a flame. She crossed her legs and pulled her skirt, which had risen, down. “If he insisted, I would go along. Is that all you wanted to talk to me about or did you ask me up here for a reason?”
His gaze traveled to the door. “Yes. Can I pour you a Christmas drink?”
&n
bsp; She pursed her lips as she made up her mind. “Do you have amaretto?”
“Absolutely.” Her gaze followed him as he rose, strode to the niche bar, and poured the almond distilled liqueur in a small stem brandy glass. He glanced her way. “Water?”
She sat up even straighter, her feet tucked at an angle under the chair. “Yes, please.”
“Here you are. I have another meeting to attend. You know how it is. Anyway, I’m going to bring Michelle back in here to tell you what we have in mind. All right, dear?”
She nodded. “Of course, I remember what a busy—and powerful—man you are.”
He went to the doorway. “Michelle, would you come back in here and tell Fallon about our proposal.”
* * * *
Marty glanced at his watch. “It’s time.”
Dana cocked his head, “Time for what?”
“For Mr. Wynne. He wants to see you at eight sharp. Come.”
Dana pointed at his chest. “Me? ‘Mr. W.’ wants to see lowly little peon, me?”
Marty smiled. “Don’t get sarcastic on me now. I think he has something big planned for you.”
* * * *
Mr. Wynne rose and offered his hand as Dana walked in. “Thank you for seeing me Mr. Allen,” He said in a deep, strong voice.
Dana shook the offered hand and glanced around the large opulent office. He had never been here before. It was roughly twenty by twenty, with lavish furnishings and decorated using wood paneling and moulding. The entire wall behind his desk was glass, displaying a dazzling view of the Las Vegas Strip. “It’s an honor sir.”
“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you and your lovely wife. Please have a seat.”
Dana sat in one of two leather arm chairs facing Mr. W’s desk.
“Please, call me Stu or Stuart if you must. For some of the things I have planned we will be on a first name basis. Here’s a little something for Christmas.”
He handed Dana an unsealed envelope. He peeked in. It was a cashier’s check for five thousand dollars. His eyes widened. “Thank you Stuart. It’ll come in handy.”
Mr. W’s grin shifted to the right side of his face. “Good. Here’s another check, but this one you have to earn.”
Stu handed him another unsealed envelope. Again, he peeked and almost choked. Twenty-five thousand. “Who do I have to kill?”
He smiled. “No one, but you may not like what you do have to do.”
“I’m listening.”
He leaned forward and placed his arms on his desk. “I’m sure you know that Fallon and I were an item before you came along, swept her off her feet and married her.”
“I heard that.” He smiled triumphantly. “I guess money can’t buy everything.”
“Apparently not. In any event, as you can imagine Fallon and I were intimate.” Dana fidgeted. “She may not have mentioned this to you, but she had indicated that she had a desire for and would be open to a woman’s ménage. That means—“
He waved a hand. “I know what that means. It means two men and a woman, you, me and Fallon.” He tossed the envelope on the table and said, “Fallon’s not for sale.”
Stuart smiled as if he anticipated Dana’s refusal. “Oh, Dana, the question isn’t whether Fallon is for sale. She has already indicated she would welcome such an arrangement. The question is, are you for sale? Let me finish please. Should you agree to let me into your marriage bed, which I hope to do tonight, I would have future requirements and lucrative payments for you.”
“Like what?”
He leaned back into his fancy executive chair, entwined his fingers and rested his joined hands on his chest. “I prefer not to discuss the additional perquisites at this time, but I will give you a hint. I’m sure you’re aware that I’m about to open Wynne’s Diamond by the Water, a five star hotel and casino in Lake Tahoe. I have yet to select a casino manager.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Could you come in here for a second?” He hung up. A beautiful woman—the woman from in the hallway downstairs, walked in. Stu stood and so did he. “Allow me to introduce you to the new publicity director and ‘Chez Tahoe’ show producer, Michelle Bosco. Michelle this is—”
“I know who he is. He’s Fallon’s husband.” She glided over to him and offered her hand. “So nice to finally meet you, Mr. Allen. I just love your wife.”
“Call me Dana, please.”
“Michelle, I wanted you to meet Dana because he’s under consideration for casino manager at the Tahoe project.”
Batting long eyelashes, she opened her eyes wide, cocked her head ten degrees as if scrutinizing him. Dipping her chin, she smiled. “Is he now?”
Stu turned to him. “I wanted you to meet Michelle because she’ll be working very closely with whoever becomes the casino manager.”
“Oh, I do hope you’re chosen. I can hardly wait to work with you. Well, I’d better get back to my interviewee. We’re about to sign the contract. It’s been a pleasure, Mr…Dana.” She shook his hand, turned on her heels and glided through the doorway, from which she’d entered.
Stu and he took their seats as Michelle exited. “That’s quite a lady.”
“Yes she is. Have you been thinking about my offer?”
“I have. It’s very tempting, especially if, as you say, she’s in favor of it, but she is my wife and I have to respectfully decline.”
Placing his palms on his desk, he rose. “How about a drink?” “I’m going to have one. What’ll you have?”
Dana noticed his brows rising. “Cutty on the rocks, sir.”
He smiled. “Good for you. A real man’s drink.” He poured the yellow-amber liquid over a half dozen ice cubes and handed it to him.
As Dana took a sip, Stuart, blurted, “There is another matter.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
Stuart swirled his drink around his glass twice and swallowed the liquid. “You have a gambling problem.”
Dana’s heart jumped. “That was before I met Fallon, almost a year ago.”
“Nevertheless, you still owe Dominic Cangelo a substantial sum.” Stuart reached in his desk drawer and pulled out a folder. He opened the folder and handed him one slip of paper then followed with another. The first was his IOU for a hundred eighty-seven thousand dollars. The second was a thirty-day option to Stewart Wynne to buy the IOU for one hundred forty-five thousand dollars.
As Dana asked, “What’s your point?”
Stuart raise his index finger as if indicating wait a moment, then rose and went to the door. He didn’t say anything, but appeared to wave to someone.
Chills raced down Dana’s spine and and all the breath went out his lungs when he saw who came through the door. It was Luca Bartolo, the mob behemoth who’d visited him on two occasions.
Standing within five feet of him, Stuart started to introduce them, “Dana, This is—“
Dana stood. His throat constricted, but he managed to squeak out, “I know who he is. What’s this all about?”
Stuart picked up one of the papers Dana had just read. “I’m sure you saw I have an option to buy your debt. That option expires at twelve tonight. Luca, tell Mr. Allen what you’re to do if I don’t exercise my option.”
In a deep, bass voice that was as big as he was and with a malevolent smile on his lips, he answered, “Break his kneecaps.”
“Thank you Luca. Step back outside and I’ll let you know in a few minutes whether I’ll buy his debt.”
The big man cast Dana a mean stare before he turned and ambled toward the door. Once again, chills went down his spine.
When the man had left, Stuart went back behind his desk and added some ice and scotch to his empty glass. Dana nodded when he offered to fill Dana’s glass, too.
Dana saying nothing, waited for Stuart to speak.
Stuart handed the envelope with the check for twenty-five grand back to Dana. He opened the envelope and pulled the check out. He read the line that read, the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars. The printing blurred. He shook his he
ad and focused his eyes. It was there all right. His gaze went to the line above, Pay to the order of Dana Allen.
“The check is made out to you. Fallon need never know.”
“We already talked about this. What do you want?”
“I’m prepared to make you a different proposition.” He reached in his desk and pulled out two folders. Obviously, if you agree to both of these contracts I will take care of your gambling problem. If not, you’re on your own.”
Stuart handed him a contract from folder one.
Dana expected it to be for the casino manager at Tahoe but it wasn’t. It was a contract for… “What the fuck is this?” Fallon is to bear Stuart’s baby?
“Before you get upset read the whole thing.”
He glanced back at the simple contract. “The parties of the first part, etc, etc, etc ,etc, etcetera… Upon delivery of a healthy newborn baby with total and irrevocable parental rights, the party of the second part (the natural father) will deliver to the parties of the first part (including the natural mother), the sum of One Million tax-free Dollars.
Once over his shock, he kept reading it repeatedly, but that’s what it read. Stu would pay One Million Dollars, for Fallon to have his baby.
$1,000,000.00
“Ah this is a rather shocking proposal. Can I have a little time to think about this?”
“Of course. I have a quick meeting to attend, so while you’re considering that here’s another contract for you to consider. You understand my option ends tonight.” Stuart rose, smiled and left the room without a further word.
He downed his drink, poured a refill from the bottle Stuart had left on his desk, opened and perused the second contract. As expected, it was a one-year contract for casino manager at seventy-five grand a month. He couldn’t stop the dollar signs and zeros from floating through his mind, five grand already in his pocket, twenty-five grand, pending acceptance, this appointment worth nine hundred thousand, wiping out a hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollar gambling debt and then for the grand finale, a tax-free million dollars for a baby. He just knew the baby was the deal breaker. They were separate contracts, but it was a package deal.