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"OK, what the hell are you talking about?" I stammer - wait a second. My phone has this nice little feature on it that might come in handy.
"You don't really think that was a random attack, do you?" I don't know. "I sent those boys to beat you up. And I'll do it again and again until you come home."
"Damn, I must have hit my head harder than I thought," I spit out. "My mother, the whining moralist, is some sort of gang leader?"
"It's not a gang, David," she scolds. "I used the church's money to pay these boys to attack you. So there's plenty more where that came from." And she wonders why I stopped going to church. "And your little harlot, that homewrecker, she's in jail now and she's going away for a long time. All thanks to me. You don't really think she's a drug dealer, do you?" Does it matter at this point? "I looked for dirt on her - she's clean. But if I have to make her life miserable so she'll stay away from my son, then I'm more than happy to. And I will never stop. Now are you ready to do what I tell you? I can send you another plane ticket and have you home by Friday. Now about a job-"
"You can go to hell." I've heard all I need. I hang up the phone and drive on - to the police station. Dinner comes from a drive-thru menu.
After getting my wits back - luckily I don't get pulled over on the way - I walk in, where a surly-looking officer awaits me. "Can I help you?" he asks, as if I'm bothering him.
"Yes, I need to report an assault." This sucks, since I have to relive the assault - almost immediately - and give a description of the four men who assaulted me. Fortunately I have a pretty good description of them, and the officer almost seems to know the identities of the asswipes who did this. By now, another officer, a younger one, is assisting the surly officer.
"There is one more thing," I continue as I get out my phone - what my mother doesn't know is that I recorded our conversation.
"So wait a second," the young officer - Miller, according to his badge - interjects. "We booked a woman for dealing heroin earlier. Some rich woman in a casino-"
"Cherise?" I ask.
"Yeah, Cherise something; I'm not very good with names," he rambles. "So we booked her because of this woman?" I confirm it. "Well, that woman's in a lot of trouble. And the woman in the cell, well, I'll go get her." It takes about five minutes before Cherise is released - she doesn't even look up at me.
"I'm sorry my mother did this," I tell her, trying to break the tension. "I told the cops. This should stop happening." She doesn't respond immediately, and when she gets outside, I motion her to my car.
"I'll take a taxi," she coldly replies. Damn. "And if you could work from your suite the rest of your time with the company, that would be great." Again, damn.
(Las Vegas, hotel suite, one month later, 5:00 pm)
Well, this is it - my last form for the casino. I'm working almost entirely by email by this point - I had lunch with the team today, and it was nice, but Cherise and I didn't talk much. She seemed almost nervous around me despite the fact that I was nothing but nice to her.
At least the department is in good hands - Chaz is my successor, so I guess we're more than even in that regard. He got me out of my miserable life and led me to the person who brought out the best in me, so giving him my old job is the least I could do.
I haven't heard from Mom in a few weeks either, so I assume she's given up. Of course, I haven't heard from much of anyone in a few weeks - most of my time outside my suite has been spent looking for a house, so far with no success.
I also haven't been sleeping much - between these purchase orders, house hunting, and a lot of thinking, I'm exhausted. And at this point, it pretty well shows - I take a look at myself in the mirror. I have got to start taking better care of myself. Well, at least I can call for pizza for dinner, since, you know, that's healthy.
So after a few minutes of looking at myself in the mirror - the bags under my eyes especially - I look over. And damned if it isn't Cherise. No idea how that woman found me, since I never told anyone my location, but here she is in my suite. I must have left the door cracked.
She's still as gorgeous as ever, and she's still flashing a million-dollar smile. And I'm not sure if I want to see her.
"Hey there, stallion," she calls out to me as she approaches.
"What the hell's going on?" I stammer as she approaches. She has on a low-cut top, revealing her perfect cleavage, and those tight jeans she had on when I first met her. I wonder what's underneath. "How did you find me?"
"I had the IT guys do a reverse IP lookup. Led me right here." I'm not even sure if that's possible, but then again, I suppose if local police departments can do it, so can a woman who owns a casino. And to think she's only 29. "I've missed you."
"I thought you hated me," I answer - she shakes her head seductively. "I've spent a month trying to forget about you. I can't even say I remember your name, Cherise." Well, fuck. So much for that.
"It doesn't matter if you remember me," Really? "I know something that does." She reaches underneath the table I'm sitting at - and grabs my jeans. I have an obvious bulge in my pants - needless to say I'm hard as a rock.
She kisses me passionately on the mouth. Damn, can this woman kiss. I don't need that much encouragement from her, but she gives it anyway, tearing off her top to reveal a red bra underneath. Next to go is my shirt, and then she unzips my pants.
She then stands above me and drops her jeans, revealing a red g-string underneath - she always matches. That doesn't last long, though, as she undoes her bra and smiles as I slide my pants off, revealing just a pair of boxers.
Those go off too as she slides off her g-string. Without missing a beat, she leaps in my lap and straddles my cock. Just like that, I'm fucking her.
I hold onto her big, sexy ass and guide her body as she rides me. She's in my lap, facing me, as I hold on tight to her. Damn I missed this. She's still so tight and so amazing, and my cock just throbs with pleasure.
I kiss her deeply, our tongues stroking each other sensually. I'm going a little easier on her, just holding on tight as I ride her since I feel as if I'm a little out of practice. She doesn't seem to have missed a beat, though - I hope it's just because she's a goddess.
I look in her gorgeous eyes as I kiss her and squeeze her ass, her pussy stroking my cock with perfection. Damn, can this woman fuck. She pins me back in my chair as she rides me hard and fast.
Oddly, my phone begins to ring. I hate distractions, especially while I'm with Cherise, but it just gets louder and louder. And strangely, I stop feeling the amazing pleasure almost instantly.
Then I look up - and Cherise is gone. I'm fully clothed in my chair - and alone. And my phone is still ringing. What the hell just happened? I look around - no one else there. I'm still rock-hard - go figure. And there's a touch of drool on my face. Fuck, did I just fall asleep and dream of fucking Cherise? I guess there are worse dreams to have.
So I pick up my phone and check the ID - it's Dad. Of course, after last time, I fully expect it to be Mom ready to tear into me. Probably another plane ticket or a bunch of thugs waiting to kick my ass. I even considered buying a gun after that incident but haven't followed through - as of now it's just been one time that those shitheads have attacked me. I'd like it to stay that way.
"Well, hey there, son," the enthusiastic voice on the other end - thank God it's actually Dad. I assume he's waited until today to call - my Facebook page made it pretty clear that today is my last day at the casino and I'm off to run my own business. "So how are you holding up?" Fine, I guess.
"I'm glad to hear from you instead of Mom," I continue. "Especially after she sent those thugs after me."
"Yeah, that was the last straw for me, too," he replies - what? "I was already unhappy with her about the plane tickets - after the last one I closed all the credit cards in both our names. I could handle that. The beginning of the end was when she sent Marilyn out there." Yeah, that was about it for me, too. "The first real bad fight was after that - she expected me to back her up. I don't believe in anything she said to you. And she knows that. And then she made some comment like, 'You just want to go run off with some black woman.' I was insulted." I would be too - there's a difference between wanting to fuck a black woman and just not being a racist shitheel.
He seems to have more news. "I spent the night in the guest bedroom. And then I moved out in the middle of the night when she did what she did to you and your business partner." On one hand, good for him for telling Mom to fuck off. On the other hand, it's hard to hear him refer to Cherise as my business partner, but that's our own doing, I guess. "I filed for divorce the next day. But I got a little surprise when I went to go serve her with papers." This ought to be good.
"She was in jail."
No shit. "The Las Vegas Police Department sent over a recording. She's being charged with conspiracy and filing a false police report. She's facing hard time." I guess that means Dad gets everything. "And guess who's defending her?" Hitler? "Deacon Horvath's best friend." He's referring to the best friend of the deacon from Mom and Dad's church, that is. He's an influential man in our community. He's also an asshole.
"But here's the best part," he continues, almost laughing. "You know how your mom called your partner a homewrecker?" I know where this is going - and he confirms it: Mom's fucking the deacon. The married deacon, that is. It turns out the affair has been going on since I was in high school - no wonder she defended the cheating bitch and blamed me for it. She's a cheating bitch herself - and blames Dad, who, by all accounts, has been entirely faithful.
"Well, I guess I don't feel so bad now," he answers - he's not sure he understands. "I'm the reason she got arrested. And I felt bad about suing her because I knew you would be paying for it. But I had to send her a message." Turns out he agrees with me - and it also turns out he's likely to win big in the divorce because he has a lot of dirt on Mom. The racist cheating bitch who's in trouble with the law - doesn't stand a chance in hell.
It turns out that Dad's done with home as well - he put in his two-weeks at his job today, and he's on his way out west. Someplace warm so he doesn't have to deal with this winter. Hard to blame him - the summers are brutal, but fifty degrees in December beats the shit out of ice and snow.
It sure is good to catch up with Dad, and our conversation lasts about another hour - he's living month-to-month in a studio apartment waiting for the divorce proceedings to end. As he hangs up, I flop back in my chair, just waiting for the day to end. I'll probably order pizza - no human interaction beyond a delivery guy. Figures - I'm in one of the coolest cities in America and I don't want to go out.
I guess I don't have a lot of choice in the matter, since "out" comes to my door. No one at the company knows which suite I live in - OK, maybe not, since it's Monet. And Chaz.
"Spearmint Rhino?" asks Chaz - I turn him down. "Dude," he counters, "what the hell's gotten into you? You're a no-show at work, you're no fun-"
"I know what's going on," interrupts Monet. "It's Cherise. Look, Dave, she's not mad at you. She thinks you hate her." Hate is a strong word, but it's also the closest emotion to love, a word I don't think I've used when it comes to Cherise. I don't know where I'm going with this thought, so I tune back into Monet. "Maybe you need a night out. We're going up to Seattle tomorrow for a new nightclub. We're having fun tonight." Yeah, OK, I'm in.
We head out to Chaz's car - a Porsche Boxster, so I have to wedge myself in somewhere. It turns out that 'somewhere' is the driver's seat, since Chaz doesn't feel too good about Monet sitting on my lap. "And if you came to work instead of working from your suite all the damn time, you'd know we're dating now," Monet explains.
"You did me a favor that night," Monet continues. "When you walked out, Chaz called and asked if I wanted to hang out. He came right over and we had a threesome. Then Michelle fell asleep, and we spent all night talking and getting to know each other. And having amazing sex, of course. And after a lot of hanging out, we became a couple."
"And one more thing," she continues. "I told Cherise everything. She told me she was ready to fire you after she found out you were at my apartment. But before you met with her, I told her everything. And that's when she had the idea of making you CFO." I try my best to hide my shock - looking forward at the road and giving a generic response. But damn. "And then when you quit, she ran right into my office and cried. I had never seen her cry until then."
I'm at a loss. I'm not sure I believe what Monet's saying. For all I know, she's trying to force something that's not there - I get it; she and Cherise are inseparable, and Chaz and I have been friends since grade school. But still, there's a lot to overcome.
"She was mad when you got her from jail, but she told me she wanted to talk after that. She just didn't know how to approach you." Wow. To think I'm that intimidating. "I hope we see her tonight - she was non-committal about coming out with us tonight. We're going to Seattle tomorrow about a club she's buying." Go figure. Is there a business she doesn't own? "I told her Chaz and I would do it, but you know how Cherise is. Has to do everything herself." Yeah, you're telling me.
I try to put Cherise out of my mind as Chaz changes the subject - apparently he bought four season tickets to whatever team the NHL's looking at bringing to Vegas. Winter sports in the desert - what will they think of next? I'm surprised Cherise isn't trying to buy an interest in the team - she likes basketball better, but then again, that's about all they have up in Portland where she's from.
But enough about Cherise. I haven't been to the Spearmint Rhino since Cherise took me and we fucked in the alley, so I wonder if the same ladies are there. That was a hell of a night - I just wonder how I'll keep from fucking a stripper tonight since I don't have Cherise ready to take me out back and get crazy. And even after the fight, the absence, the isolation from everyone else for a solid month, and all the shit that happened with my crazy mother - Cherise is still the only woman I want. Fuck, I can't stop thinking about her.
We stop off for dinner first - I joke with Chaz and Monet about buying the place, but I don't pursue it - and then after a couple of hours and a stop at a sports bar, we head to the Spearmint Rhino. I'm thankful Chaz lets me drive his Porsche, not just because it's fun as hell to drive but because both he and Monet have a few too many at the bar and I'm the only one sober enough to fight the traffic.
Finally, long after the sun has gone down, we're here, and the atmosphere is a lot like what I remember - this time it's only the three of us, though, and I'm in almost direct competition with Chaz and Monet, who are looking for a lap dance for them together. Me? I'm just looking not to make a mistake.
The first nibble we get is from a tall, shapely brunette, who's pretty good at dividing her time between me and Chaz - but not so good with a very interested Monet. Even after Chaz mentions that he's looking for someone for himself and his girlfriend, she doesn't get the hint - so she doesn't last long.
Next up after a few minutes of waiting and sipping whiskey is an olive-skinned Latina with long, shimmering black hair. If I weren't so dedicated to staying chaste for Cherise, I'd have her in VIP in no time no matter what she charges. However, I just smile and pass her off to Chaz.
"I think this one's all yours, Dave," butts in Monet - and if she is, damn am I lucky. The Latina sits down in the booth next to me - her breasts are amazing. I think they're actually bigger than Cherise's, but it's not the size that impresses me, it's the way they sit in her bra. These bras are hardly flattering - I mean, it's only a topless strip club; it's not as if anyone's going to be ogling these women's bare chests or anything - but this woman could look good in anything. And it's not just her assets - she has an amazing smile and I love her accent.
Her name, it turns out, is Maribel. She's 24, and she's new to Vegas. Figures - as the guy who took a chance coming out here, I get the girls who do the same. First Brooklyn last year, a black goddess who would have had me had Cherise not been ready, and now Maribel, a Latina goddess who's making me ask if it's worth taking a chance on her.
My phone buzzes with a text message - I'm talking to Maribel, who's actually pretty smart, so I ignore it until I get another. I figure it's a spam text or Chaz being stupid - Monet just turned away a blonde, so he's jealous of the attention. Dude, maybe spend some time with your girlfriend, since you, you know, have one.
I look over at him - he clearly didn't send those messages. Monet? The look on her face tells me one thing - check your phone, dude.
So I do. The first message: "Cherise knows you're here." Fuck. I look at my phone for another message - turns out it's from my carrier about some offer they have. Well, what the hell am I going to do now?
"Can I have a second?" I ask Maribel - she agrees as I slide a $10 bill in her bra. She smiles as I go over to talk to Monet.
"OK, what the hell is that about?" I ask her - and she just hands me her phone.
It's Cherise. "So what's she look like?" she asks me - reception here must be spotty; she's coming in kind of fuzzy. I describe Maribel's luscious breasts but haven't had a good look at her ass yet - scratch that, as she's standing now and bent over the table.
Once again, the bottoms she's wearing above her g-string are not flattering at all - but she makes the best of them. Her ass is nice and round, not as big as Cherise's but very nice. I could imagine myself bending her over and spanking her gorgeous ass the way I do with Cherise.
"You're making me - damn, what's the word for it. I wish I was her and you were looking at me instead of...fuck, I can't even...say stuff-"
"Jealous," I answer - yes, that's the word.
"Yes, I'm very jealous," she continues. "I'm so jealous I want you to look over at the door." OK, what the hell? I look over.
Cherise is there. My eyes light up. I turn to Chaz - "Maribel's all yours," I tell him, and he seems to waste no time.
Neither do I, as I head to the door to see Cherise - and she looks drugged. She's moving like a member of the Walking Dead, her eyes glazed over, slurring her words, as if she's drunk.
Nonetheless, I'm so happy to see her, as I go in for a warm, loving embrace - and I completely whiff. She falls to the ground before I can react - and I panic.
"I need medical attention! Now!" I call out to the bouncer, who seems uninterested.
"I'm fine," stammers Cherise. "I just need a Red Bull." Red Bull. That's it - I've seen this before.
I stop a waitress. "Do you have a a bottle of water or something?" She does, and I take it, handing her a random bill for a tip - I really hope it's not a $100. I tilt Cherise's head back - she drinks it slowly.
"That wasn't Red Bull," she scolds as she finishes the water a few minutes later.
"No," I counter, "it wasn't. Red Bull is why you collapsed. You're dehydrated." Energy drinks in excess - I saw it on an episode of House, so it must be true. "You have to take better care of yourself. More water. We live in the desert. You can't live off energy drinks. I know you want to keep going and you have a lot to do, but this isn't healthy. You're going to give yourself a heart attack."
