Josie Rawlings lived a life of privilege. With her father's money having supported her throughout her days, and a large alimony check from the ex-husband for spending money, the thirty year old had never known a day of honest work. She had rarely seen the inside of her own kitchen, for she had her own cooks. She had never done a load of laundry, and in fact, there were few outfits she wore more than twice, if she wore them twice at all. She had a garage full of cars, yet she was rarely sober enough to drive herself, and had a driver on her staff to get her where she needed to go.
She lived a life of constant pampering and self abuse. Josie met each new day with a mint julep, a Xanax, and a bowl of sliced and sugared fruit. Throughout the day, she would play with the dangerous mix of pills and booze, having perfected a balance that kept her buzzed for almost every waking moment, and sometimes, completely obliterated.
However, she was also fond of working out in the attic gymnasium of her house, she ate healthy food, and her delicate hands and feet had never been deprived of manicures or pedicures. Her skin knew only the best treatments and moisturizers, and her hair was done by only the best South Beach hair stylist. Though there had not been a need for plastic surgery for the beautiful Josie, she had the numbers of three of the best surgeons in the country saved in her Rolodex for when the time came.
If money and privilege lacked the power to spoil someone, it was not Josie. Not only was she spoiled in that she did nothing for herself, she was spoiled into thinking that she was better than everyone else, including those in the same tax bracket. Few people genuinely liked her, and Josie liked herself too much to give other people much in the way of true caring or friendship. She was pleasant when it suited her, but it was a thin disguise, for Josie was as selfish and shallow as it got, and in a person like that, it showed.
Her family loved her, but understood that she loyal to them because of the money. They also understood that they had created this monster, and her younger sister had been brought up so differently, that at last word, the younger Rawlings was somewhere in Asia doing charity work. The country club set rejected Josie because she was rude, obnoxious, and generally drunk. Her personal staff tolerated her abuses only because she paid them well, and she kept them in lavish birthday and holiday gifts in return for their loyalty. Friends? Josie had two friends that she had genuine feeling for, and who truly loved her enough to look past her list of failings, but she had never treated them overly well either.
The day that Josie met her match, the usually thoughtless heiress had felt a tickle of presentiment that this Thursday was to be a different day for her. She dressed carefully that morning after her shower, donning a dress that screamed "springtime". The clingy, silky dress highlighted each curve of her petite frame, stopping just above the knee, the jade color of the material accentuating a creamy complexion and brown hair that seemed highlighted with the shimmering colors of autumn.
She stood before the full length mirror in her bedroom for a long time, so impressed with herself that she nearly masturbated. The only reason Josie held back was because she was already running late to meet with one of her two friends, Heather Carrol, at a ritzy South Beach eatery.
The restaurant was crowded when she arrived, a lunch crowd of South Florida's most powerful filling the tropical accented room. Heather, an overdone, surgically enhanced bottle redhead was already there, sipping on a gin and tonic. She looked miserable.
"Why the long face?" Asked Josie, though it was more to see if there was any gossip to be heard rather than real concern. Immediately, a mint julep was brought to the table, and Josie was quick to begin drinking.
"You wouldn't understand," replied Heather, looking down at her menu with a sigh. "I think Harvey is sleeping with his receptionist."
"So divorce him and take him for all he's worth," Josie shrugged. "That'll teach him."
"I love him, Josie. It's not that easy."
"You should never have married for love, silly," she said airily, glancing around the room. As she spoke, her eyes fell upon a man lunching alone.
He was beautiful. Sharp blue eyes, jet black hair that was cropped close. There was something rugged about him that was tempered only by the soft look of a privileged life that seemed to cling to him. He smiled at her, and Josie almost lost the thread of her conversation with Heather, who by now, had turned to look to see what had grabbed her friend's attention.
"You should hook up with that one. He'll make you forget Harvey for a while," commented Josie as she let her tongue slide across her lips.
"Oh. Please." Heather looked disgusted, but she was staring openly at the man too, and both women seemed suddenly drawn to him.
"Let's see if we can't fuck him," Josie whispered across the table to Heather, a wild glint in her hazel eyes. "Remember like the old days when we did that pool guy?"
Heather smiled thinly, unsure and a looking slightly bothered that Josie had brought that incident up. For Heather, that day had been lost in a haze of LSD and Southern Comfort, and though it had been enjoyable to be sure, she had always feared that Josie would talk openly about it to the wrong people and it would get back to her family, or worse, that bastard of a husband, Harvey.
"C'mon." She picked up her drink and began to stand. "I'll be right back, sweetie, I'm going to go and talk to him."
Heather sighed, not attempting to stop her friend, murmuring. "I'll order for you, then."
Josie winked and walked across the room to the stranger's table. She sat down, speaking before he ever got the chance. "Listen, honey," she told him, "my friend over there is having a hard time. I don't know you nor do I care to, but you look good, and I thought that it would be fun for us all to meet up at my house after lunch to cheer her up."
He smiled a toothy smile, asking lightly, "Are you propositioning me?"
"You're a genius to boot." She slugged down part of her mint julep before reaching into her purse and pulling out a pen and a scrap of scratch paper, writing down her address and phone number. If Josie noticed that the man was giving her a penetrating stare while she wrote, she did not react. "Here. After lunch, we'll be there, and you won't regret it. Just be aware that you'll be frisked at the door in case you are a lunatic."
He laughed. "Very well. I will think about it, Josephine."
Too drunk to realize that she had not introduced herself, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Josie. I don't respond to Josephine."
It took a fair amount of convincing over lunch and a few more drinks, but Heather agreed to go back to Josie's house with her. Josie had no problem with getting her friend drunk enough to agree to such things, for it had not been the first time, and wouldn't be the last. As far as she was concerned, the drunken mouth told the sober truth and the drunken soul responded to sober desires. Heather wanted this.
When he arrived, the stranger looked a little put off by the fact that he actually had been frisked at the door. However, he was quick to forgive that when his eyes fell upon the two women. Josie sat with a drink in her hand and a cigarette in the other on the couch, Heather was grinning stupidly beside her. "I have to say that I have never had something like this happen to me."
"Well, it won't happen again if you keep talking, Mister," Josie replied crisply as she mashed the cigarette out in a marble ashtray. "Come sit between us."
Heather's reluctance seemed to fall away entirely as the man took a seat between them. Something about him was powerfully alluring, and his half sinister smile was sexy. Neither woman spoke as their hands began to roam upward along his thighs, Josie licking lightly along his neck.
Josie was the first to take hold of his stiffening cock while Heather unbuttoned his pants. Soon, the large, almost even abnormally large cock was free and poking straight out, rigid under the attentions of the selfish heiress. "Suck it, Heather," demanded Josie as she stroked it from the bottom. The stranger had thrown his head back, sucking in his breath.
