Chapter One Revised
Rhys pulled his black four-wheel-drive truck into the driveway of the house he was renting on Miami Beach, stopped in front of the small garage, shifted to park, and turned off the engine. Instead of getting out, he sat there staring at the house. It was close to the beach but with some privacy, something he could never have afforded on his army salary. However, he made substantially more now and could splurge on something more comfortable. Rhys was staring straight ahead and suddenly shook his head, wondering what he was doing. Why was he here right now? The last thing he remembered was flying to Texas to discuss a potential job.
He looked around, and everything appeared out of focus like he had been drinking and was drunk. There were significant gaps in his memory. He had no idea what day of the week it was or even if it was morning or afternoon. The sun was behind him to the west, so it must be afternoon, he guessed. The lack of awareness should have alarmed him, but it didn't. In fact, he wasn't the least concerned.
Getting out of the car, he picked up several sacks of groceries, wondering where he got them from and what he had bought. His mind wanted to panic; nothing made sense, but he suddenly felt calm again as he walked inside, as if nothing was wrong. He knew things weren't right, but he couldn't put his finger on precisely what. Each time his brain focused on something, it seemed to slip away. Everything seemed slightly off, almost surreal, but he couldn't keep his thoughts focused long enough.
Walking inside, Rhys found his way into the kitchen, put the sacks on the kitchen table, pulled out a gallon of milk, twisted open the lid, and proceeded to drink half of the gallon from the bottle. What's the matter with me, he thought again, what am I doing? I don't even like milk. Putting down the carton, he walked mindlessly toward the bedroom. It was then he noticed an unusual smell in the house, something very enticing, and he felt himself become almost painfully hard. Rhys leaned on the table, trying to collect his thoughts, but the feeling of intense arousal became even stronger. His cock became even more uncomfortably hard, painful even. He lurched erect and walked quickly toward the bedroom; thinking he might pass out, he headed for the bed.
When he saw his bedroom, his first thought was that someone had searched and trashed it. Items of clothing were strewn everywhere, a chair was overturned, a lamp was broken and on the floor, and the bed covers were thrown carelessly off the bed. But then he noticed what was lying on the bed. A naked woman, no, women, as in two, lying nude on the covers. His mind tried to make sense of what he saw, but it was useless, a losing battle. The pressure in his mind grew as he struggled to understand, but then those thoughts slipped away again as he headed for the bed, responding to the overwhelming urge for sex. Darkness crept in from the sides and slowly overwhelmed him, taking all memories of what he was doing.
Rhys woke up lying in his bed on his back, staring at the ceiling and feeling dizzy and thirsty, accompanied by what had to be the mother of all hangovers. "What the fuck," he moaned as pain shot through his head when he tried to move it. "Damn, that must have been some party, I can't remember anything," he mumbled. He lay still thinking but couldn't seem to recall anything about last night; all his memories were fuzzy, just snapshots of events in his mind. When he started to get up, he realized with a start that he was not alone. A firm and lovely leg was draped over his thighs belonging to a woman; a cautious shift of his head that resulted in only a bit more pain confirmed his guess. Sandy lay next to him, and it was her firm thigh he could see. Sandy was a woman he had been dating for about six months. Beautiful, long red hair and long legs that made his cock twitch just watching her walk. He had wanted her the first time he laid eyes on her. It wasn't any one thing in particular that attracted him, but the whole package. Some women have gorgeous bodies that are pleasant to look at while others are interesting and sexy. But Sandy...well, Rhys thought she had it all. She was so sexy that he got a hard-on the first time he saw her, and she just radiated sex appeal. One look at her challenging smile and Rhys was hooked. It didn't hurt that she also had one of the best sets of tits money could buy and a world-class ass. He knew that from the beginning because the first time he saw her, she was standing on a stage in one of the more exclusive "Men's Clubs" on Miami Beach, wearing nothing but a thong and stripper heels. It was one of the few times that Rhys had truly been transfixed seeing a woman for the first time, and he decided right then that somehow he would have her that night. It had cost him big, but Sandy went home with him that night. Strangely enough, they fell into a relationship, or at least Sandy would no longer take his money. The odd thing about Sandy was that she looked at her career as a dancer and part-time prostitute (if she liked them and had the cash to meet her exorbitant rates) as a temporary part of her life. She had graduated college with a degree in Psychology but found she made a lot more money on stage and from her customers. Miami Beach is an international party town, and a woman can do very well with the right customers. Rhys figured Sandy probably made twice as much money as he did and was surprised to learn she was also a martial arts instructor during the day. Despite her profession, they had fallen into a kind of relationship, one that involved seriously hot sex and little other demands on each other.
After a few months, Rhys had given Sandy a key to his apartment, and more often than not, she would slip into his bed early in the mornings after the clubs had closed. Still, Sandy remained an enigma. She was bright, witty, financially savvy, fun to be with, and had a wicked sense of humor. In addition, she was completely uninhibited when it came to sex. She didn't make any demands on him and never asked where he went when he disappeared on a job. Once, after he had been gone a week, he decided to stop by her apartment and surprise her. It was the afternoon, and she opened the door just a crack to see who it was. She had looked at him strangely for a few seconds and then seemed to make a decision.
"Come in," she said, stepping back from the door. Rhys could feel her watching his face as he took in her appearance: thigh-high leather boots, a black leather corset, long gloves, and a hand holding a whip of some kind. She smiled when she saw his expression; Rhys had seen that she was bare between the tops of her boots and the corset. Stunned, Rhys followed her inside, wondering what he would find. That was when he met Amancia. "My sub," Sandy had told him while watching his face to see his reaction. "Her name is Amancia, and she is mine," Sandy told him. "You may watch Rhys, but do not touch!" Amancia was a gorgeous mixture from the Islands, and Rhys had wanted her immediately. She was naked, beautiful, and stunning, especially tied to a spanking bench. Light welts decorated her ass and upper thighs, and any cries she might have made were blocked by the red ball gag splitting her lips.
Rhys had to admit it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen as Sandy continued with their scene as if he wasn't there. Rhys did as she told him, watching quietly as he discovered just how kinky Sandy and her sub were. It was worth it because the sex with Sandy afterward was tremendous, probably the best of his life. Surprisingly, their relationship deepened after that, and Sandy spent more time in his place than hers. They had repeated the experience a few times, but Sandy never told him much about Amancia. "It's private. Amancia has a good career, and this sort of thing can't get out, even here in Miami," Sandy had told him. She did tell him that Amancia had a master's degree in finance from Yale and worked in a private bank, handling clients from the Caribbean and South America. Rhys didn't ask any more questions; he could do the math, and he understood that Amancia was off limits and the relationship would end if he crossed that line.
Now, unfortunately, on his other side, a beautiful chocolate-skinned woman lay on her stomach, legs spread, with cum leaking from her ass and her pussy. Amancia! "God Damn it," he swore softly when he realized what that meant. How did that happen, he wondered? First of all, Amancia was a lesbian; she had never had sex with a man and didn't want to. Secondly, he would never have jeopardized his relationship with Sandy over a lesbian who didn't want him. "Fuck me," he murmured to himself, "Sandy is gonna be pissed!"
Moving their limbs off him, he carefully got out of bed. The room was still spinning, and Rhys was a little wobbly on his feet, but the view of the two women in his bed was spectacular, though it seemed there was something different about them. He chalked it up to his swirling head and decided to hurry due to nature's call. Rhys made it to the bathroom, but when he grabbed the doorknob, it broke off in his hand.
Hurrying was vital, so he flung the door open, took care of his bladder first, and then climbed into the shower. Rhys noticed that the shower nozzle seemed a little low for some reason, so he adjusted it up (carefully) as he washed. The water running over his body helped him escape his haze, and he began to notice a few things. The ceiling seemed lower, or his head was closer, and when did he get that 12-pack?
Rhys had stayed in pretty good shape since leaving the army but didn't remember ever being this ripped. His muscles were more defined as if he had been working out hard in the gym for six months. Not bodybuilder competition, but his whole body appeared to be in the best shape of his life. Rhys's thoughts and memories were still jumbled as he tried to recall what he had been doing the last few weeks. It must have been a hell of a party.
He toweled off and looked in the mirror, staring at a face that looked familiar but slightly different, as if some rough edges had been smoothed away while still maintaining a "don't mess with me" look. However, the scar on his cheek that he had picked up from shrapnel was gone, as was the one on his neck where a bullet had grazed him. Shaking his head and wondering why he was not too concerned about these events, he wrapped a towel around him and went looking for something to drink. He paused, looking at the front room. It was trashed, with empty pizza boxes and take-out, empty beer and wine bottles, and various items of female lingerie. Furniture was turned over, the couch pulled away from the wall, the cushions scattered and suspicious stains on them.
Rhys shook his head in dismay but then smiled as he saw some of Sandy's and Amancia's toys. Banker by day, kinky lesbian sub by night, with lots of leather gear to go with it. What he couldn't understand was what it was doing in his apartment. Rhys swore as the refrigerator handle broke off in his hand. Frowning, he threw it away, pulled the fridge door open, and pulled out a carton of orange juice, immediately drinking most of it without bothering with a glass. He was dehydrated; the girls must have given him quite the workout. Putting down the orange juice, he thought fixing breakfast was a good idea. He was starving and dreaded waking the girls, but perhaps they would both be a bit calmer when they woke up with some food, though Sandy's reaction worried him the most.
Rhys' mind wandered as he fried bacon and eggs and popped some biscuits in the oven. Remembering Amancia was a vegetarian, vegan, or some such thing, he decided to add some oatmeal. As he worked, vague images started coming back to him of the three of them in bed, with Rhys fucking Amancia roughly from behind while Sandy licked her clit. Amancia had screamed for him to fuck her harder and shoot his cum into her pussy. He smiled at that thought; while interesting, she had always given him the idea she would also cut his dick off if he ever tried to fuck her. Sandy was a different story; she was a tiger in bed. Rhys always thought Sandy could be a millionaire if she applied those skills full-time to her side work as a hooker, but that was just extra money to her. Breakfast was done; it was time to face the music.
