She slowly lowered herself into the hot bath. She slid down the porcelain sides until her butt rested firmly on the bottom of the tub. She grabbed her wine glass and took a sip of her aged Cabernet Sauvignon.
It would seem like Jess Maycomb had had a hard day at work and wanted to have a little "Me-time" but that was hardly the case. In fact, Jess hadn't lifted a finger in years to do any sort of hard labor.
Yet, somehow she managed to be sitting in an ornate bathtub surrounded by marble floors, gilded fixtures, and a hand-woven tapestry on the ceiling. She didn't win the lottery, or, at least not directly. She married a billionaire.
As she admired her bathroom she heard the footsteps of her husband.
His name was Jack Shaw. He was 68 years old. His hair was fully gray and he had not a bone of youth in his body. What could have possibly possessed this beautiful, innocent girl to marry this man perplexed most people, but then they figured out the answer: Money, and lots of it. According to Forbes his Net Worth was $4.7 billion. He had made his fortune through inheritance, but continued to build his grandfather's banking empire.
"Honey, I'm off to meeting to discuss the merger, I'll be back in a few hours."
"Okay Jack," She said.
As a young girl, Jack swooned her with shiny jewelry and fast cars. She was only 23 years old and had never met a man like this. She was raised in poverty and to have these things she thought was only possible in a fantasy,.
Jess had only had sex with two men her whole life: Jack, her current husband, and Alex her ex-boyfriend. She was raised in a conservative Christian family in Northern Iowa where there was no tolerance for sexual activity of any sort before marriage.
She realized she had been in the bath for about thirty minutes and figured it had been long enough. She got out of the tub and stared at her glistening body in the mirror. Her gorgeous brown hair that flowed to the small of her back was soaking wet. She had 34D's a tiny waist, and hips that drew comparisons to Marilyn Monroe.
And since she was facing the mirror she was hiding her best
ass
et: Her ass. When she was little boys teased her about it, except for Alex, which is one of the reasons she loved him so much.
On the other hand as an adult men worshipped her ass. She didn't have eyes in the back of her head but she
knew
that everywhere she went every twist of the hips was being closely monitored. While many women would embrace this, as a result of her conservative household she was sexually repressed. She wore baggy, unflattering clothes everywhere she went and rarely wore makeup. In spite of all this, she was a model.
On a school trip to Chicago when she was 16 she was approached by a scout for a modeling agency. At this age she was already fully developed. Despite her "unorthodox" figure, her bone structure was immaculate and her height was perfect.
When she returned home from the trip and she told her family about the modeling agency they outright refused to let her "flaunt" and "expose" herself to the world.
For a year and a half she waited until her eighteenth birthday. With some money she had saved up she took a bus to Chicago where the same recruiter she had met on her previous trip was waiting. She felt guilty for abandoning her family, but she wasn't meant to live her life on a small Midwest corn farm.
She wrapped the towel around her waist and walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows of their penthouse that had incredible views of Chicago.
She wondered every day why she didn't choose anyone of the other men walking below her for a husband.
Jack only fucked her about once a month. At his age he didn't have much of a libido, even with a goddess sleeping next to him in bed. She was just arm candy for him.
When they had sex it was horrendous. It was never spontaneous, because Jack needed to take his Cialas before they "made love". He would ruin the surprise by saing, "Where the hell are my god damn cock pills!", which he could never find despite always being in the same place.
After he had achieved a boner fourty five minutes later, he would give off a menacing grin. They would strip simultaneously and then without any foreplay he would stick his dick inside her, pump away for two to three minutes trying to talk dirty and that was that.
He would get dressed and go watch TV. She would lie there thinking of Alex and the first few times they made love, the first of which was always the most special:
They were out in the Maycomb family farm when a thunderstorm suddenly appeared. Alex grabbed her hand and pulled her to the barn. He threw her on a bale of hay and they kissed lovingly. At first it appeared to be nothing more than another innocent make out session, but once they removed there wet clothing sex was inevitable. He had commandeered a condom from a friend, and slipped it on. He slowly entered her as she winced in pain. That pain soon turned to pleasure, a pleasure she would never forget.
They did this a few more times, every once in a while. Too often and they risked the unimaginable punishment from getting caught. Sex felt good for her, but then again she had nothing to compare it too. More important than the sex though was her love for Alex. She wanted to marry him but his life was cut short when an eighteen wheeler collided head on with his truck.
She didn't think she'd ever be able to move on, and she hadn't. She didn't love Jack, he was just there for financial support which she had never had growing up. She was a gold digger, that she didn't deny, but she tried to convince herself her motives were for good.
She got dressed and opened her laptop. Instead of going on one of her many sites, she went to Google and searched "I want a discreet affair". She wasn't searching for a how- to tutorial; she wanted services.
Sure, she could proposition any man on the street for sex. In fact, it happened to her nearly every day that a man would flirt with her, but she wanted to find someone who would not become emotionally attached.
She eventually decided to go on Craigslist. She made an ad for "Gorgeous woman seeking a discreet rendezvous". She put up a picture of her ass and one of her full frontal nude with her face blurred out.
Later that evening she checked her email and it was flooded with desperate men, spammers, couples and
a lot
of women who wanted what she did, except none of them seemed to fulfill her criteria.
Too old. Too ugly. Dick pic. Dick pic. Too fat.
Just as she finished deleting the dozens of emails, a new one popped in her inbox with the subject, "I know exactly what you're looking for."
She then read his message:
"I know what brings you here. You have a need, a craving. Something that is itching at you every waking hour of the day. It's been building up and you can't take it much longer. That's what brings you here right? I mean why else would a nice lady like you be in a place like this?
Maybe you want to wrap your lips around a hard, pulsating cock and then swallow a big load of cum.
Maybe you want to have your pussy pounded from behind as you're choked, gasping for air.
Maybe the thought of getting caught having sex in the back seat of a stranger's car turns you on like no other.
And perhaps the thought of giving up your pussy to a complete stranger is your deepest, darkest fantasy. It's the perfect combination of danger and play that you so desire...
I could go on... but why not get to the point. Like I said, I know what you want and I'm here to fulfill it.
I offer consulations for this very type of affair. I know you may be skeptical, but here is my phone number: 312-555-4562"
With all the spammers, this didn't seem promising, but it was well put together and he left his phone number, which was odd, but somehow reassuring.
She called the number and after a few rings a man picked up, "Hello."
"Hi this is Jess from Craigslist- I mean, I'm calling because I-"
"I understand," he said reassuringly. "We need to begin immediately. Meet me tonight at 11 PM,"
They hadn't said more than a few sentences and he was already suggesting they meet tonight. "I'm not sure, let me-"
"That wasn't a question, it was a demand." His tone of voice was calm; he knew what he needed to do. "We need to start as soon as possible."
"Okay, I'm sure I can work something out."
"Excellent. Now Jess," he continued, "my operation relies on discretion, fluidity, and teamwork okay? I am going to give you a specific set of instructions that I need you to follow precisely okay?"
"Alright."
"I can't stress this enough. Without following these instructions to a T, there is a chance it may fail?"
"Of course, anything you can do to help."
Now, I need you to get a pen and paper and write this down okay?"
"Sure, hold on one second." She hadn't moved this quickly in years. She darted to her husband's office ironically, sat in his desk and pulled out a pen and paper "Okay, I'm ready."
"We are going to meet at midnight, at Washington Square garage. Go to the top floor and look for a new Black SUV. You'll see it, there shouldn't be any other cars there. Park a few spaces away and then I'll take it from there. Do you have all that?"
"Yes," she said as she furiously scrambled to take notes.
"Moving on. I need you to have your hair looking spectacular, make up done, more so than you're normally comfortable with. I want you to wear a tight dress that makes you feel sexy as well as high heels. Any other accessories feel free to wear. No need for a purse."
"What color panties should I wear?"
"Amy. I told you only follow the directions I told you to. Did I mention panties?"
"No, but I-"
"Amy, please. Just do as I say. I will see you tonight." And with that he hung up.
Soon after the abrupt end to the phone call, her husband returned home.
"Jess! Jess honey where are you?"
She stood up, groomed herself quickly and greeted her husband. They did their perfunctory kiss on the lips. The scene of which was quite humorous because Jess stood several inches taller than Jack and with his deteriorating posture it was only exacerbated.
"Honey, I'm going out with the girls tonight, " she said.
Jack look puzzled, "Girls? What girls? Since when do you go out?" he asked mockingly.
"My model friends," she said with a defensive tone, after realizing she did truly have no friends.
"Ha," he scoffed, "sounds like nothing but trouble to me."
"Just a drink or two, baby, I won't even be home late."
"Fine, go slut it up with your friends." He cried, and waved his hand. He went to the wet bar and poured himself a glass of aged scotch as he shook his head and said, "Women these days."
She was in no mood to argue, so she went upstairs until it was time to go.
She didn't have to meet him until 11:00, but she needed plenty of time to prepare herself both mentally and physically.
The Consultant's demands were simple, but difficult to go through with: He wanted her to look like a whore.
