CHAPTER 3
PART ONE
Lacey Cuyler lay stretched out on a massage table in her New York City hotel room. To call it a room, however, simply insulted the decadence of the space her body currently inhabited. The "room" was actually the Penthouse apartment atop the Hudson Hotel in Manhattan. The Penthouse apartment struck a tasteful balance of modern creature comforts with elements of romantic classical design. The area that Lacey was currently relaxing in consisted of an all-glass, ivy-covered solarium stretching twenty feet high. Inside the enclosure sat custom furniture and a rather enormous Murano glass chandelier.
How much did it all cost? Lacey didn't even remember the nightly rate. In all likelihood, she never asked. She knew, though, that her name and credit card – co-signed by her husband Harrison – pretty much covered everything a woman could desire. For all the beauty in the apartment, however, most men and a rather impressive array of women would likely agree that Lacey was the most attractive accoutrement in the room.
Lacey hailed from a modest middle class home in North Carolina. Everybody knew early on that she would be one of the people in the world blessed with captivating beauty. When she went off to college at eighteen she stood at 5'7" with thick, wavy golden hair. She had dazzlingly large, cornflower blue eyes that never seemed to move far from the mellow state they tended to be in – beauty really can relax one. Her breasts were a natural, large C-cup with broad nipples that would harden into long nozzles that could draw stares even through substantial bras. Her legs almost seemed too thin for her body as they drew up to a round and juicy ass. The combined effect of these physical attributes was a southern doll with natural glowing beauty. Lacey knew how to use her attributes.
From the time she was sixteen, Lacey could bend men and women to her will with a mere laugh or a smile. Soon, she learned that slightly more complicated physical endeavors would reward her with even more riches. While she had cultivated a sense of style and taste from an absurdly young age, she never did fancy herself a worker. She'd rather glance at catalogs and research the "good life" then work algebra problems or read the classics. Beautiful face and sumptuous body aside, her dalliances and mental flights of fancy led to poor grades. When she was a senior, her high school counselor sought her out to explain the situation.
At first, his tone was serious as he explained the dire consequences of her poor grades. No college would accept her. She didn't seem worried though, and she continued to meet with Mr. Tabbit twice a week. Though a dedicated school official, the strain was hard on the 40 year-old guidance counselor. His once lovely wife had succumbed to the atrocities of middle age sloth and was a shell of her old self. Even worse, she no longer had any interest in sex. Normally, this situation was acceptable, and he could distract himself with work or hobbies. But Lacey, well, Lacey allowed him to see a gorgeous young ingénue on a frequent basis.
His desires eventually broke him. They started meeting in early September and by mid-October, he made his move. Once the counselor concluded that she was beyond the age of consent, they struck a deal where Lacey would show him a bare body part in exchange for certain grades.
When he broached the idea to her, he thought for sure she would run to the police. He mentioned it as a joke at first. "It's not like I could change your grades if you flashed your legs you know?" he had joked. She wasn't that stupid. She caught hold of his hint and eventually agreed to show him pretty much every inch of her beautiful body. She started with her legs. Then her bare arms. Then her lightly muscled back. Then her panty covered behind. Her breasts. Her golden furred mound. Finally, she would come to him and spend the entire meeting in the nude.
The deal worked swimmingly. The counselor was rewarded with perhaps the most stunning view in the Southern United States, and Lacey popped herself into UNC with an impressive scholarship. He never even tried to touch her. She thought that was incredibly sweet and upon graduation left him with a quick kiss, a handful of self photos with her face blacked out, and a few pieces of her favorite lingerie. Years later he still had them.
Lacey's machinations at UNC eventually lead her to Harrison Cuyler. She was a tableau of co-education beauty when Harrison had been dispatched to the university looking for law school grads. As a hiring partner of the law firm of S&G, he always enjoyed these university visits. Standing 6'5" with salt and pepper hair, he kept himself in shape and liked showing off to the young co-eds. He always joked to himself that if these girls dutifully read their Glamour and Cosmo they'd know that they needed to have at least one "older business man" fling. After 3 years of trips and a goodly amount of sex, the magazines had clearly been right. On one of these recruiting visits, he found himself at UNC.
Well, in actuality, he had been dispatched to Duke University, but found UNC to be more fitting to his libidinal tastes. He'd gladly hire from Duke, but on his off hours he would linger on the UNC campus. As a good looking professional, he felt that he could work his magic on any number of willing, naïve co-eds. He hadn't counted on Lacey and his world flipped the moment he saw her. He was walking to the student union and saw her in a Hefner-esque display of what college should be. She had on a white sun dress with cute white sandals and her golden hair pulled back in a bright blue hair clip. He almost drooled.
For her part, Lacey could smell the money on success on Harrison, and it didn't take long for her to finish her senior year and move to Chicago. At first, she went to fill a job that Harrison had created just for her. Lacey and work, however, never lasted long. She quickly became engaged and stepped into a new life. By all accounts, the wedding was spectacular.
Clearly, Harrison had found his belle and Lacey had found a healthy meal ticket. Sex between the two was a bit odd though. To Harrison, monogamy was not something to be practiced. Frankly, he didn't care if Lacey practiced it either. Still, she seemed fairly immune to the swoon he induced in most women.
For most women, discovering that your fiancée to be has enormous cock would be a mouthwatering, thigh-clenching bit of wonderfulness. And surely, Lacey did try to play along. While she had withheld sex for as long as possible with Harrison, she finally consented when she first moved to Chicago. It hadn't bothered Harrison. He kept his stable of women around to keep his powder dry. Lacey was different. She was the trophy. She was the proof and the receipt that he had made it. Sex would come, and frankly the tension was to his liking.
Their sex life, however, was far from grand. Lacey never truly enjoyed it, and Harrison only enjoyed the actual act of looking upon Lacey. He was unsure she had even climaxed with him. Her mewing cries of passions rung fake to Harrison.
Lacey was surprisingly not drawn to Harrison's enormous package. It was only his money that truly got her wet. More to the point, Lacey had a secret. As lovely as Harrison's cock was, she had discovered in her sophomore year that she was a lesbian. She wouldn't embrace her sexuality – it would have been too costly – but she certainly would not deny it. Well, she wouldn't deny it in private...
Currently in New York, however, her masseuse was working Lacey's shoulders with massage oil.
"That's faaaantastic Alexa," crooned Lacey in a slight southern drawl.
Alexa worked in an upscale Manhattan spy. She stood about 5'5", and had dirty blonde hair that was cut in a short, messy style. She wore black cat-eye glasses and had brown eyes. Her skin was well cared for and held a glow despite her naturally pale color. She wore a white smock with her name emblazoned across her right breast.
"Full treatment today ma'am?" asked Alexa.
