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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31





Chapter Four

            In bed with Joel Blaine, Rosarita realized he was everything Dex was not. Joel was a down-and-dirty lover, servicing her in ways she had only ever dreamt about. He pushed her around, making her do things Dex wouldn't dare try. When he was inside her he wanted her all the way- forcing her legs around the back of his neck, popping amyl nitrate vials under her nose whether she liked it or not- biting her nipples until she screamed with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He was all man. Eight and a half solid inches that he made her deep-throat until she gagged.

            When she finally came- spread-eagled on top of him -she let out a scream so loud and out of control that he clamped his big hairy hand over her mouth and told her to shut the fuck up.

            She liked a man who was in charge.

            Personality-wise he reminded her of her father. In the looks department he was no Dex. He was not very tall, dark and stocky, with plenty of thick bodyhair, brooding close-set eyes and fleshy lips. The combination made him attractive in a sexy, flashy way.

            This was their second assignation-their first one in a bed. The time before, right after they'd met at the opening of Anton art-gallery show, he'd parked in a dark SoHo side street, shared a vial of coke with her and made rough love to her in the back of his gleaming grey Bentley while a couple of transients looked on through the open window. It was one big turn-on.

            Tonight was even better. More coke. More sex. Her two favourite things.

            'Jesus!' she exclaimed, reaching for a cigarette and lighting up. 'That was sensational!'

            Joel was already on his way into the bathroom. She took another drag on her cigarette and peeked at her watch. It was past six, time for her to go home and spend another boring evening with Dex. Was it any wonder that she wanted him dead?

            If Dex was out of her life she would be free to pursue a proper relationship with Joel. Right now he was playing it poker-faced because he knew she was unavailable. She'd give anything to spend the night with him. Dinner at a nice restaurant. Drinks at a happening club. Then back to his place for more of the same. Idly she wondered what it would be like to be married to a man like Joel. He was a goer, a doer. At thirty-two-according to what he'd told her- he practically ran his father's enormous real estate business. What a match they would make. They both had powerful rich fathers -men from whom they'd learned plenty. Together they could rule New York.

            Only Dex stood in her way.

            Damn him! he was a dumb nobody. Why had she married him?

            Oh, yeah, yeah, she'd thought he was destined to be a movie star.

            End of that story.

            She could hear the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. Surreptitiously she slid open Joel's bedside drawer and checked out the contents. A gun. Excellent, it showed he had balls. Six boxes of peppermint Tic Tacs. A porno video entitled Hot Spurts. An unopened package of extra large condoms. And a pale blue envelope with Sweetie written across the front. Quick as s flash she extracted the note inside. Babykins. I love you. Always will. See you next week. Keep my place warm. It was signed - Honey stuff.

            Honeystuff! Who in hell was Honeystuff.

            Rosarita was outraged. Did Joel have a girlfriend he hadn't told her about?

            She was about to rummage further when she heard the shower stop. Quickly she slid the note back into the envelope and closed the drawer.

            Joel strode back into the room, a towel knotted loosely around his waist. It she wasn't mistaken he still had a hard -on the jut of his cock beneath the thick towel was unmistakable.

            It was about time she put her mark on him - something Rosarita knew how to do better than anyone.

            'Come over her, hot stuff,' she crooned, beckoning him to the bed. 'I've got something for you.'

            Joel didn't need asking twice.

****

            Dexter paced around the living room, glancing at his watch every five minutes. Where was Rosarita? He had hoped she'd be home before his parents arrived, making it the perfect surprise. But at six thirty she was still not there.

            Reluctantly he picked up the phone and called his father-in-law, breaking out in a sweat as he did so. Chas Vincent scared the heck out of him - he looked like a refugee from The Sopranos, and acted like one too.

            Early on in their relationship Rosarita had proudly informed him that Chas was king of construction in New Jersey. He didn't know or care what Chas was king of, he simply preferred to keep as much distance as possible between them.

            'Hi, Chas,' he said, making sure his voice sounded strong. 'Is Rosarita there?'

            'Why'd she be here?' Chas growled suspiciously. 'She left two hours ago.'

            'Did she say where she was going?'

            Probably to buy a gun and blow you away, Chas thought. 'Now,' he said. 'Most likely she's hitting the stores. You know women - spend till their tittles drop.'

            Dexter faked a laugh. Even though he'd been involved in the world of modeling, he still couldn't stand vulgarity.

            A concerned father. How nice.

            Dexter roamed around the apartment, stopping at the guest room to make sure it was all ready for his parents' imminent arrival. He'd personally gone to the flower shop and chosen twelve perfect red roses - his mother's favorites. Conchita, the maid, had placed them in Anton exquisite amber vase on the dresser next to the television. He'd also bought roses for Rosarita, white ones, which he planned to present to her later when they were alone.

            Tonight was going to be special. He was absolutely sure of it.

***

            'Shit!' Rosarita screeched, snagging her expensive tights as she entered a cab outside Joel's building.

            'Where to, lady?' asked the cabbie, not even bothering to turn around.

            'There's a sharp edge on the bottom of your door,' she complained. 'You'd better do something about it.'

            'Where to?' he repeated, cracking his knuckles. She leaned forward to get a look at his ID. Moussaf Kiridarian. Another foreigner not worth arguing with. Chas said they should all be lined up and shot. Sometimes he could be a bit of Anton extremist. After all, if that ever happened who would be around to drive the cabs and trains? Get rid of the garbage? Run all the electronic and camera shops?

            'Sixty-first and Park,' she said brusquely. 'And make it fast. I'm in a hurry.'

            The cab set off with a jerk, almost throwing her off her seat. She muttered Anton insult under her breath and groped in her purse for a cigarette. She was about to light up when Moussaf caught her eye in the rear-view mirror and announced sternly, 'No smoking. See sign.'

            'Shit,' she muttered, putting the cigarette away. What kind of stupid rule was that? And how come a lowly cab driver was allowed to tell her what to do?

            If she was very nice to Chas maybe he'd spring for her own car and driver, especially if she suggested it as a Christmas or birthday present. He was rich enough to afford it, and there was no reason for her to ride around town in a filthy cab with some crazy foreigner who wouldn't allow her to smoke. Of course, Chas would ask why she didn't drive the Mercedes he'd bought her. But who could park in Manhattan? It was a fucking nightmare.

            For a moment her thoughts drifted to Joel. What a guy! Although he'd been really pissed when she'd sunk her teeth into his neck so deep that any little cupcake trying to put her claim on him would notice immediately that he'd been playing elsewhere. He'd jumped back a foot. 'What the fuck have you done to me?' he'd yelled, rubbing his neck.

            'Sorry,' she'd murmured innocently. 'You shouldn't be such a turn-on. I couldn't help myself.'

            'Fuck!' he'd complained. 'This is gonna swell up.'

            'I know something else that's gonna swell up,' she'd giggled, reaching for his ever-ready dick. It was solid and thick, just the way she liked them.

            Now, sitting in the cab, she wondered what little Honeystuff would have to say when she got a load of her boyfriend's neck. Well.ex-boyfriend, because Rosarita had big plans for Joel.

            He wasn't going to be easy, she could already tell that. He was stubborn, didn't care to be pushed. And, like most men, he was probably shit-scared of commitment.

            However, Rosarita was confident enough to think that she was quite capable of changing all that.

            'When can we get together again?' she'd asked, before leaving his apartment.

            'You're married, aren't you?' he'd said gruffly.

            'Since when did that make a difference?'

            Joel had laughed, more a throaty growl. 'I get off on Anton office matinee occasionally,' he'd said. 'Y' know, close the door, raise the shades. There's plenty of tall building around- your never know who's watching. You into that?'

            'When?' she'd asked eagerly.

            'Call me in a couple days. We'll make a plan.'

            She knew that she couldn't ask him to call her. It wouldn't do for Dex to pick up any message Joel might leave. 'You do know I'm planning a divorce? She'd said.

            'You told that pretty-boy husband of yours?'

            'Not yet, but I will. My father's getting involved.'

            'How come?'

            'Cause he'll make damn sure Dex doesn't give me any trouble.'

            Joel had looked at her admiringly. 'You're a piece of work, you know tat?'

            'Never said I wasn't,' she'd answered, with a knowing smirk. Then she'd given him along French kiss he wouldn't forget in a hurry, and left his apartment.

            Now she was groaning inside because she had to go home and face that big lox of a husband. And she knew exactly what he'd say. 'Guess what happened on the set today?'

            Who gave a flying fuck what happened on the set today? She certainly didn't.

            Dex simply didn't get it. She wanted a divorce, and tonight she would hammer the point home. Because, if he didn't get it soon, he would be one dead pretty boy- with or without her father's co-operation.

   


Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62