Stacey waited patiently, while I dressed and removed my lipgloss. Then we left to go and find our limousine. Once we got back to the Wynn Palace, Stacey took me to her suite. It wasn't as private as the Garden Villa, but it was very opulent, with several rooms. Stacey had multiple suitcases around the suite, and I noticed they were Rimowa also, though hers were in Pastel Pink. My Barbie Pink suitcase was on the bed in the master bedroom, and I blushed, as it really looked like it belonged to a teenage girl.
Stacey poured us each a glass of wine, sat on the sofa, and patted the seat next to her. I took it as my cue to sit, and nervously joined her on the leather sectional. She was the hottest woman I had ever been alone with, and my five months of chastity was clouding my judgement. We started to chat, and quickly found some common ground.
She was interested to know how Sara, Svetlana and I had got caught up in Adrian's web. I shuffled around uncomfortably, trying to explain the whole threesome blackmail scenario, and Sara's racist family dynamic, and I think she got it. I did tell her that at least Sara and I had a way out. I was free in a couple of weeks, and Sara would be happily married to a very wealthy man. Then her interest turned to Svetlana.
"How did a twenty-two year old accounting graduate, become ensnared by a dominant black man," she asked me. "And does Adrian really urinate on her every week, after she gets a makeover?"
"Svetlana has limited options," I began. "She can't return to the Czech Republic, as she has no support system there. She would probably end up being trafficked as a sex slave, especially now, as she resembles Pamela Anderson's hotter, younger sister. If Adrian kicks her out, she will have to go and stay with Ivan, a local Russian Mafia enforcer. He will treat her just as bad as Adrian does, but with the added insult of being broke. At least in her current situation, she has a lot of material things, and is not in any danger of being sold as a sex slave. If Adrian dresses her up in something cute, once a week, before urinating on her, that is a small price to pay for her freedom."
I asked Stacey how she was involved in this sordid foursome and she laughed.
"I am the only one who is not here against their will," she told me. "I am here for the money. Completely available to the highest bidder."
Stacey and I chatted for a while, and she floated a scenario in which she and I remained in Las Vegas. Apparently, she had already run it by Adrian, and he was in agreement. He was willing to put us up at the Wynn Palace, until we found a house we liked. He would cover our living expenses, and give us eight thousand dollars a month in cash. Adrian felt like his relationship with Sara could flourish, if I was three hundred miles away, and Stacey had her reasons too.
"Adrian loves platinum blondes," she told me. "However, my aphrodisiac is money. If we are in Orange County, I will not be able to resist him, when he offers me five hundred dollars to suck his cock. If we stay here, low key and out of sight, our partnership may work. Maybe we can just have fun the next twelve months on Adrian's dime."
The thought of hanging out with Stacey, away from Adrian's influences, was appealing on many levels. Both he and Stacey, had made it abundantly clear that she was to be my "sugar baby," and that I was entitled to as much sex as I wanted. However, my long term goal was to win Sara back after she tired of Adrian's bullshit, and for that to happen, I needed to remain in the picture. I did marvel at Stacey's transformation though, both physically and emotionally. She was truly a hard woman now and a mercenary, although it wasn't always that way.
My wife and Stacey had been friends for years, going back to when they worked together at Nordstrom. I knew Stacey had grown up in the suburbs of Oklahoma City. I had seen pictures of her in her high school yearbook, and she was a beautiful, wholesome looking girl. There was even a picture of her in her Cheerleader uniform, and she looked phenomenal. She was that rare kind of young woman who truly didn't know her beauty, an innocent girl next door type.
She moved to Orange County as soon as she turned eighteen, and got swept up in the Newport Beach party scene. She went from being a standout beauty queen in her small, mid-west town to a Newport Beach seven. Stacey lightened her hair from its natural light brown, to a much blonder tone, and got hair extensions. She got her nails done, joined a tanning salon to get started on bronzing her skin, and started to look for a job.
Newport Beach is full of trophy wives, and Stacey wanted to be in that club. She learned a few valuable lessons in the first year of living in the epicenter of Orange County's materialism. The first of which was to separate the posers from the real deal.
She sucked off more than one loser, only to later learn that they had borrowed Daddy's exotic car for the night, to appear wealthy. She left a Newport Beach bar on more than one occasion in some guy's Porsche, only to arrive at a modest one bedroom apartment in Costa Mesa, or somewhere else, that was definitely not Newport Beach.
Twelve months after arriving in Newport Beach, she was working at Nordstrom by day, and trolling Newport's piano bars, and nicer hotel bars, at night. She had honed her skill set, and now had a set of pre-determined questions to weed out the posers. She never got into a man's exotic car, without seeing his driver license and car registration. She told the guys it was for her security, but she was really checking where the guy lived, if the car was his, and whether or not he had paid cash for it.
Stacey had mastered the dating game, and forged herself a really nice lifestyle, financed by three or four guys, in exchange for sex. Before too long, she was able to quit her job at Nordstrom, and focus full-time on finding a rich husband. She did find that real-life dating moved at a pedestrian pace, and was a lot of work. Sex had to evolve slowly, so that the suitor developed blue balls, and would give more to get what they wanted. She found that if she gave up sex too quickly, the man moved on to his next conquest.
Then she discovered cyber-dating, and she quickly mastered this unique form of engaging men. Stacey found that she could weed out a lot of the posers, by joining websites that tried to pair rich men, and beautiful women. Then, instead of the slow, calculated escalation of the sex acts, that was the plan in real life dating, she adopted a completely different approach.
She was much more direct in the email and texting phase of the cyber-dating game. Her primary goal was to get to the root of the rich man's kink or fetish, and confess to enjoying that depraved act immensely. Once the stigma and embarrassment had been removed from the fetish, she would agree to the act, and strive to perfect it. This maximized her cash flow, and increased the dependence of the man on her, which created a repeat client.
The only drawback of this approach, was that she was unlikely to turn one of these fetishists, into her husband. Some of the sex acts she performed for money were quite demeaning, and nearly all were embarrassing. Stacey questioned what guy would admit that he paid her to fulfill his fetish, before they got married.
After years of trolling for wealthy suitors, Stacey quickly recognized Adrian as the real deal. He had rescued her and Sara from the local dive bar, and taken them to a swanky piano bar in Newport Beach. It wasn't the limousine. She had been in plenty of limos. You can rent a limo for about one hundred dollars an hour in Orange County, so that was no indicator of wealth.
She did quickly surmise that this was Adrian's personal limousine, based on a couple of observations. Firstly, his relationship with his driver, Sergei, was that of old friends. She correctly assumed that the older East European man, had worked for Adrian for years. She also noticed that his built-in cigar humidifier had his initials embossed on the lid, and that he had the Queen of Spades symbol embroidered on the suede floor mats, in the rear compartment of the vehicle. Stacey hadn't fucked many black guys, and it wasn't as acceptable in Oklahoma, as it would have been in the melting pot of Southern California. However, she did know that the Queen of Spades symbol was often worn proudly in the form of a tattoo, by white women, with a sexual preference for black men.
She noticed his Rolex watch, and had enough of a discerning eye to recognize it as a Rolex Pearlmaster, definitely not some knock-off from Tijuana. She estimated his bespoke suit to cost at least three thousand dollars, and he was wearing Ferragamo shoes. Stacey was quickly satisfied that Adrian was the real deal, and decided right then that she wanted him as one of her sugar daddies. There was no way for her to know at that moment, that he would eventually turn her from a Newport Beach seven, into a total pornstar fuck-toy.
I did ponder living in Las Vegas with Stacey, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to live in Orange County, close to Sara, in case she left Adrian. I wasn't sure how this could possibly happen, as she was with him under threat of blackmail, but I kept my hopes up. Stacey seemed open to the idea of being my live-in girlfriend wherever we settled, as long as Adrian paid the bill. We did agree that it was prudent to get the cash up front for the year. I was thinking that once she got paid, in cash for the full twelve months, I could leave Stacey, and wait for Sara and Adrian to break up.
Stacey had finished her wine as we talked, and she leaned into me for a kiss. I hesitated momentarily, as I had decided to resist her advances, whatever form they took.
Stacey misinterpreted my reaction.
"I brushed my teeth since I ate Adrian's asshole," she assured me.
I stiffened at her forward approach, and she laughed, her blue eyes twinkling as she did so.
"Relax baby," she said gently, "I won't bite you, unless you want me to. You have been in your cock-cage for way too long. It is clouding your judgement and making you jumpy. If I didn't know you better, I would guess you are trying to resist my advances. Why on earth would you do that? You can have whatever your heart desires from me, no limits, no matter how depraved."
I swallowed hard, my resolve to resist her, evaporating in front of me. I kept thinking about how she had broken Jason Ortiz with her words. She was just too sexy, and I had been caged for too long.
Stacey leaned in towards me, placed one of her exquisitely manicured hands on the side of my face, and stroked me tenderly.
