Chapter One
Angela Boddiford had it all – a glorious house, an expensive car, the finest clothes, a fully stocked vintage wine cellar, and a filthy rich husband to pay for it all. Her house was staffed with people to cater to her every whim – a cook, two house cleaners, a pool boy, a gardener and a personal valet who took care of anything that she could possibly dream up. Her house was in the finest area of town, and if she had children, they would have gone to the most exclusive schools in the country. She was the president of the homeowner's society in her gated neighborhood, the head of the country club women's auxillary and the chairwoman for more high society fund raising galas than she could remember. Angela was an important person...or so she thought.
If there was one word to describe Angela, it was "bitch". Angela cared little for anybody except herself. She had been determined to be a rich woman since her childhood days. She fought her way up the ladder, and didn't care who she had to step on to get there. Two days after her 23rd birthday, she got her wish. She became an official Trophy Wife when she married Olin Boddiford, an 85 year old entertainment industry titan, who was seemingly on his last legs. While Angela professed her love for him to the world outside, the story behind closed doors was entirely different. Olin was not allowed to touch her, or even gaze upon her naked body. Their marriage had never been consummated, as the thought of his decrepit old body on top of hers filled Angela with disgust. She spent their wedding night locked in the bathroom of their luxury hotel suite, crying. This was not to say that she wasn't having sex, however. Quite the opposite. Angela had taken her pleasure with an unending string of pool boys, golf pros and delivery men, all the while denying her husband what was rightfully his. Angela was in love with one thing, and one thing only – money.
Olin, to his credit, kept up the façade. For him, being seen with this gorgeous piece of arm candy at his side was like a shot of pure adrenaline for his career. Once seen as a washed-up relic of Hollywood's past, Olin's company had seen a recent resurgence in activity and investor interest in the wake of his marriage to Angela. In keeping with the underlying belief of Hollywood, appearances are everything. To be seen as virile and active was like writing a blank check. The offers of investment into long written-off projects began to come in, and Olin's production company once again began to rise in industry importance. This sudden increase in work seemed to have the exact opposite effect on Olin as Angela had intended. She had been sure that he was on the decline, and would not last any longer than five years before he died and left her all of his money. Unfortunately for her, Olin' resurgence seemed to re-energize him, and he was attacking the newfound activity with the exuberance of a much younger man. So much so, that Angela wondered if he would ever die.
So it was, that now – some 10 years after her marriage – Angela found herself trapped in a mansion she did not own, and married to a man she did not love. With no children to raise, and no real friends to turn to, Angela had little recourse for her anger and disappointment other than the man who was her lifeline. Olin had taken her abuse and scathing comments without retribution or retaliation for a decade now. He knew she hated him, and he knew she was just in it for the money. But he could just not bring himself to cut loose the one thing that brought him success. For him, Angela was more than just a trophy wife, she was his good-luck charm and his fountain of youth. Still, through it all, he was determined to hold her tight and make her love him. Angela had no such plans to wait that long. With 10 years of impatience behind her, she dialed the phone...
"Hello? Is this Carlos?"
"Who wants to know?"
"My name is...well, let's just say my name is 'A'...and I understand that you are a man who can perform certain services if needed"
"Who did you hear that from?"
"I have my sources. I also have a rather large check and a need to find someone who can handle the job required to obtain said check"
"What did you have in mind, lady?"
"I need my husband dead by Friday night."
"Friday? Three days from now? That's an awful tight schedule. How did you want to make this look? Accident, murder, suicide?"
"Accident for sure – the insurance won't kick in if it's a suicide"
"Okay. Meet me at Oscar's Bar at noon tomorrow, and bring a check...a big one."
"Oscar's? Where is that?"
"Compton."
"I can't go into Compton! I will send one of my people."
"No way, lady – it's either you or nothing. I'm not about to have some cop walk in and bust my ass. I've got enough troubles."
Sigh. "Okay. Noon tomorrow. But it's in and out, and you go do the job."
"No problem – see you then."
Carlos hung up the phone and turned to look at the man sitting to his right.
"Well, you were right. She wants you dead. What should we do about it?"
Olin Boddiford just smiled.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Angela ate her breakfast in bed, as usual, then had her valet select a suitably "common" outfit for her to wear to her noontime meeting with Carlos. A pair of 300 dollar designer jeans and a silk top were about as common as Angela owned, so it would have to do. She showered, dressed, and walked down the marble staircase to find her husband and kiss him goodbye. For the last time, she thought.
Olin was in the spa with his therapist, working his joints and 95 year-old muscles. His naked body, while still repulsive to his wife, was much more fit than most men who were almost a century old. His curvaceous Puerto Rican therapist, Rita, had been taking care of Olin for years now. She had started as a housekeeper in the days before Angela arrived, but after completing her Physical Therapy training during her off-hours, she had now become Mr. Boddiford's personal trainer and therapist. As such, she was working his legs extra hard today. Olin was enjoying her ministrations more than usual. As Rita's hands slid up his thighs during the post-exercise massage, Olin began to feel that stirring in a man that never fades no matter how old, when touched by a woman. As his towel fell away, Rita noticed a stirring in the old man's ancient package. Surprised by this action, Rita did what any good physical therapist would do, and reached up to massage the newfound area of muscle activity. Olin's eyes rolled back as he felt her strong, feminine, brown hands encircle his once-proud shaft. It was the first time anyone besides himself had touched it in years. He wondered if he could still achieve an erection. Those thoughts were soon answered when Rita's hands were replaced by her full red lips. Rita had seen the look of surprise on his face when she touched his cock, and had been overcome with the desire to see the old man happy.
As she sucked on his wrinkled cock, she half expected it to lay there like a dead worm. Her skilled Latin mouth soon had him writhing and grabbing her hair in appreciation. She sucked and sucked as she felt the blood rush to his glans. Rita's hand moved from the base of his cock down to his balls, and she gently caressed them as she continued to suck the old man's cock. This was more than Olin had expected, and more than he had felt in years. He began to feel the old familiar boiling sensation in his sack, and he knew the orgasm wasn't far behind. Rita's sucking picked up in intensity as she sensed it, too. Olin arched his back and grabbed two handfuls of Rita's hair as he began to see stars. His world exploded as jet after jet of his white-hot cum shot into Rita's eager mouth. Rita, being a true professional, didn't miss a drop.
