Chapter One
Old Jim Grinsted had been up and down the aisle a couple times. Married once - the father of three now grown children - he'd been married again for a few years. Didn't work out. So now he was on his honeymoon with Sabina - 30 years his junior.
Honeymoon? Horsefeathers! Yes, he'd given her a $2,000 diamond ring (small change for Old Jim), but it wasn't like they'd gotten any licenses or seen any preachers. Nothing legal about it. But Sabina thought it was her honeymoon; she fooled nobody but herself.
"Put the red suitcase over there," she ordered the bellboy. He obediently lifted the over-packed, overweight brick of luggage to the assigned rack. "And I want the grey one in the bedroom," said the self-proclaimed missus. The Black servant did as directed, but even as one accustomed to luggage this one defeated him - Big Jim had to give him a hand lifting it onto the credenza.
What the hell did she bring all this crap for? Jim thought to himself. That question had occurred to him often over the day: as he had tipped the airport porter for taking the suitcases to check-in; as he paid $300 in overweight charges to the airline; and as the cabdriver tried to charge him a $30 "extra luggage" fee. But now he just felt sorry for himself and took it out on the Black bellboy - he gave him a $10 tip and told him to get lost. Jim slammed the door after him.
"OK, strip naked," he ordered.
Sabina looked shocked - but just for a second. "Oh Jim, that's not romantic at all! Shouldn't we have dinner first? Maybe on the beach, by candlelight? I brought this beautiful gown I was going to wear just for you. And then afterwards we can make love between the sheets." She put her arms around his neck and gazed smilingly into his eyes.
What the fuck? All he wanted was to screw the little whore. What's with all the candlelight shit? He'd bought a lap dance from her a year ago - she was naked all over his body in the strip club. And she couldn't get naked here? He just wanted a little sex slave for the week - between hookers - and somehow she thought she'd be going on dates with silly gowns and crap.
He could just rip off her clothes and force it up her ass. She'd get the point pretty quick, and if she ran out of the room on him then so what - he'd check out and move to the hotel next door. Plenty of hookers over there.
But Old Jim was 62 and not in the best of shape. Sabina, barely 30 and totally buff, worked out every day. She'd beat him in a fair fight - rape (even attempted rape with an escape hatch purposely left open) wasn't an option.
No way he'd put up with a week of candlelight suppers.
He could just level with her and tell her to strip naked or get lost? That'd work, but...
But what?
But he had a glimmer of a better idea. Instead of just making her his sex slave, what if he turned her into a real whore - one who actually did it for money with other guys? He'd use her first for himself - of course - but when he got tired of her - like, say, by Wednesday - he'd pimp her out in the hotel. Jim the pimp. He liked the sound of that, plus it'd pay back some of the cash he'd invested in her.
It would take some guile.
"Yeah, you're right," he said, smiling. "It's just that you're so beautiful I got carried away."
She hugged him with genuine affection.
"Look, I'm tired," continued Jim. "How about I give you a little spending money and you leave me alone for a couple of hours?"
"That's fine, Jim. I'll be back by 6pm to change for dinner."
He peeled $300 off the roll in his back pocket. That's what she really wants. Well, you owe it to me with interest, bitch.
Chapter Two
Jim, not at all tired but horny as hell, went looking for nookie. The first place to go in a large, fancy hotel is the concierge's desk. Usually, with a little grease, they can be very helpful. And there Jim headed - a hundred dollar bill in his fist.
He took his time getting there. The locals on this Caribbean island were Black, which is one of the reasons why Jim wanted to come here. Yes, he enjoyed Thailand, the Philippines, and Germany, but Black holes are fun, too. The maids tended to be older, but if the price were right... Jim liked fucking somebody else's wife. The barmaids were cute - there was one 20-something who he'd rate a 9 out of 10. Dark black skin, slender, perky boobs, cute little ass, great legs and fiery eyes - she'd be worth half a grand. He made a mental note: the name tag said "Josephine."
He didn't see any professional hookers about. That didn't bother him - they generally frowned on that in the more expensive places. But behind the scenes anything was available. Anyway, he'd soon find out.
The concierge's desk was busy - he'd have to wait. He took the time to check out the female customers - after all, he wanted to pimp out his "wife," and these were the competition. He caught sight of an attractive, slender, blonde, MILF lady, nicely dressed, trying to look moneyed (though Jim recognized the cheap jewelry from across the room). She sat on a chair in the lobby by herself waiting for somebody. Maybe she was waiting for Jim? He walked over to her.
"Is this where you catch the bus to the airport?"
"I don't know. I just got here. You'd better ask the concierge."
"I already did, but he's busy and just motioned over here somewhere. I was hoping you'd know. I'm Jim, by the way. And you are...?"
"Janet," she said reluctantly. "I'm waiting for my husband."
"Cool,", he said, remembering how much he liked fucking other men's wives. "My wife's gone shopping. We can make a foursome of it for dinner some evening." He made it a command rather than a question, and continued before she could answer. "We're from Chicago. Where are you folks from?"
"The UK," she answered, curtly.
"Hey, neat! I really like Princess Kate. You know what - you remind me of her. You're very pretty - did you know that? All you'd need to do is get that loose skin under your chin tightened up - then you'd be more beautiful than the princess herself."
That got her attention. She stared at him with confused emotion: insulted, complimented, angry, flattered, teased? She obviously didn't know and couldn't say a word. Jim, smiling, just let her sit there and stew.
He'd dressed rich, wearing the gold chain and big gold rings. He'd put on the $500 sneakers, and he still had the $100 in his hand, which he casually played with. Otherwise, nothing fancy - Hawaiian shirt, shorts, no socks. He'd been a college athlete back in the day, and while looking every bit his age there was nothing ugly about him. Standing 6 feet tall he was slim, still had hair, and sported two-day stubble. He'd left the reading glasses in the room.
They say money can't buy love. Who cares? It can buy sex and that's all he wanted. He conspicuously played with the benjamin.
Janet, embarrassed, happily heard her husband approaching behind her pulling a suitcase. (What - only one suitcase? thought Jim, enviously.) "I got the room, Janet. Let's go."
"I'm Jim. I was just talking to your wife."
"I'm Fred," said the other, uncertainly taking the outstretched hand.
"I was just thinking your wife and mine could make it a foursome for dinner some evening. I'll even spring for the drinks. Would that be fun?" He only looked to Fred for an answer, ignoring Janet.
"Yeah, sure," stammered Fred, non-committal.
"What room are you in?"
