The Rich Girls' Club (3 page)

Opening a lavish hotel had been her way of providing Southern hospitality to celebrities with deep pockets. Living in Calabasas, right outside of Los Angeles, provided an escape from the busy streets and congested freeways.

“Girl, how long are you going to stare out of that window?” Storm asked. “We are on our second drink and you haven’t had one. And I’m ready to tell y’all the good gushy gushy about my pussy.”

Morgan rattled her head. “You’re right,” she responded, scooping up the files. Quickly she handed Brooks, Storm, and Hope a folder each before sitting on her chaise. “Don’t open it until I tell you to.

“This year, ladies, the Rich Girls’ Club is doing what no other female organization is brilliant enough to orchestrate or bold enough to execute. And that includes the women’s club in BH,” Morgan said, tapping on her file. “The entire BH group will end up being our biggest supporters, but what is discussed in this room today remains between us.”

Morgan glanced at the folders in each of the women’s hands. She’d tailored each task specifically. “This being the first Saturday in January, we have to work hard and fast but we wait to make our announcement until right before the deadline. Once we go public, we have seven months to execute this plan. The biggest part of this assignment is reserved for Brooks Kennedy.”

Brooks swept her shoulder-length, chestnut hair behind her ear, then glanced at the other members. Her big brown eyes expanded with excitement, then narrowed with curiosity. Her mocha skin flushed red. “Why me? And you’d better not say it’s because I’m the oldest,” she said, pursing her full lips.

Storm laughed.

Always thinking before opening her mouth, Hope remained quiet. She was a thinker and deemed herself the moral conscience of the group. If there were any resistance to, or holes in, the plan, Hope would wait until the others spoke then share her thoughts.

Brooks cleared her throat and said, “Morgan, you treated each of us to an all-expense paid vacation to Sydney for Christmas and you gave us a full year of complimentary spa services. Now what are you up to?”

Morgan nodded. “I saved the best to kickoff the New Year. You’ll see things my way in a moment. Open your folders. Read the content in its entirety. When you’re done, close your file. Then we’ll discuss the specifics.”

Soft swishes, strong flipping; page by page Morgan observed the ladies reading, smiling, gasping, and shaking their heads until the very last word.

Brooks quietly set her folder beside her. “Whenever you’re ready to explain this Morgan, I’m all ears.”

Snap! Slap!
Hope closed then placed her file in her lap.

“Hell, yeah!” Storm said, waving her folder high in the air. “Everybody dies but not everybody lives, baby. Power to the pussy! This is what I call living it up!”

Morgan calmly commented, “Trust me, ladies. This plan will position us to rule the state of California for decades to come. Now is our time to seize this opportunity. We have to take immediate action. Hope, are you in?”

Hope nodded. “The only concern I have is about the ten million dollars it’s going to cost us.”

“I’ll explain that later. Storm, what about you?”

“You know it! I’m cool with everything except the part that says we have to let go of all of our indoor staff. Who’s going to clean our houses?”

“You’ll be fine,” Hope said. “It’ll do you some good to learn how to clean up. My house is bigger than yours and I’ll manage.”

“Good, then when you’re done cleaning your house, come and do mine.”

“Ladies, please,” Morgan said. “Focus.”

All members had answered in favor but without Brooks’s approval the plan would perish. Slowly, Morgan said, “Brooks, can we count on you?”

“Well,” Brooks said, then paused.

Morgan interrupted. “I know it’s a lot to ask. Perhaps seemingly impossible, but you’re the only one of us without a man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the married one. Wouldn’t that make you a better candidate?” Brooks fired back, her voice escalating.

“On the surface, yes. But I’m a better organizer than you.”

“That’s true,” Hope and Storm agreed simultaneously.

Besides, Morgan had no desire to be in front of a camera, podium, or crowd. She didn’t want to travel away from her husband or relocate from Los Angeles to Sacramento, but she knew she’d do all of those things if she had to in support of the plan. Brooks was the friendliest, most social of them all, and the fact that she was unattached didn’t matter. “Trust me,” Morgan said. “If I didn’t think you could do this, I wouldn’t have proposed it. We’re in this together. We’ve got you. All you have do is say
yes
.”

W
hat would her parents think? Brooks, the daughter of an affluent African-American couple, refused to tarnish her family’s name. On one hand, her parents, would be extremely proud of her. On the other hand, if her secrets surfaced and publicly humiliated them all, Morgan’s plan would crush the entire Kennedy family. Brooks doubted that Morgan had given any thought to the worst possible outcome.

“Saying yes is the easy part, but what about…” Brooks’s words trailed off into deeper thoughts.

Having the media uncover every mistake she’d made in her entire life and use those mistakes against her was not something she wanted to experience at forty-five years of age. Plus, most politicians were married. If only for media purposes, and not necessarily because they unconditionally loved their spouses, their images were a factor.

Flashbacks of her kissing an underage boy over twenty years ago came to mind. She’d been twenty-five. He was seventeen. She hadn’t had sex with him even though she’d wanted to. What if he still had those naked photos of her? The media would throw her under the bus and a jury might have enough evidence to prove she’d had sex with a minor.

No fucking way
, Brooks thought, then began, “You know—”

Morgan quickly interrupted. “That’s between us. Yes, you can do this.”

“If she won’t do it, I sure as hell will,” Storm said.

Revealing her affair with Morgan wasn’t where Brooks had been headed, but maybe that was what Morgan thought she was going to say. And that was another reason why Brooks had to say, “No.”

“What’s between you two?” Hope asked.

Good ole Hope always tried to figure out what wasn’t being said. Ignoring Hope’s valid question, Brooks addressed her own concerns. “Me? Run for governor? Of the state of California? This year?” She swallowed the tension in her throat. “I’m not so sure about that. My opponents are going to strip me naked.” One of them already had. It was just that none of the girls knew she was sexing Governor Bailey Goodman.

“Better me than you,” Storm replied. “I enjoy being naked. But seriously, Brooks, did you read Morgan’s plan? It doesn’t matter what they find, we’ll have a trump card for their every move.”

Storm, the daughter of an Asian family that assisted immigrants with gaining U.S. citizenship, stared at the folder as though it were a photo of her favorite thoroughbred horse. Her natural double-Ds made her a standout from most Asian women with considerably smaller breasts; her twins made her a highly sought-after bed partner for men of every ethnicity. Storm loved three things—her horses, sexing younger men, and helping disadvantaged people.

Hope opened her mouth and everyone stared in her direction. “Pause for a minute, Storm. I don’t know what Brooks and Morgan are keeping from us but as long as it doesn’t interfere with this agenda, it’s fine for now. The plan is brilliant and will definitely work. Think about it, Brooks. How many female politicians have been accused of infidelity or caught cheating? Now, think about how many male politicians, from President Clinton to Arnold Schwarzenegger to John Edwards, to that governor that left his state unattended, and not to mention—heaven help him—that Weiner guy. You did watch
Celebrity Cheaters
, right? All of those men were publicly humiliated for their indiscretions.”

“Exactly,” Storm said. “Dicks are dumb. Pussies are,” she purred like a kitten then said, “not.”

Hope continued. “Good observation. With this plan, we don’t even have to fuck your opponents—”

Storm interrupted, “Speak for yourself. Brooks’s opponents that are assigned to me, I’m fucking them, videotaping the shit, taking pictures, and making sure I collect and preserve their DNA. Hair, semen, underwear, I want it all. There’ll be no way they’ll be able to deny the sex scandal. And if all else fails, crying rape is an option that never fails for a rich lady.”

Storm claimed she’d never been in love, and that could explain her emotional detachment from men. Hope had been in love before, but not with the man she was currently dating.

“Minus the rape part, that’s exactly the attitude we need,” Hope said. “But we only go public with blackmail if Brooks’s opponents refuse to do what we demand of them. Exposing them publicly will be our last resort. We’ll force the weakest ones to drop out first. The strongest ones, we’ll make sure they scale back on their campaigning. And Brooks darling, I’ll write all of your campaign speeches for you.”

Brooks frowned but she did like Hope’s approach. But what if…?

Morgan looked at her. “Brooks? You in, babe?”

Maybe Morgan had a full-proof execution to make sure nothing backfired. Wasn’t like Brooks was squeaky clean. She was human and had sexual needs to satisfy so she couldn’t give up her secret lovers. The girls didn’t need to know everything about her. No one did.

Hunching her shoulders, Brooks exhaled, nodded, then said, “Fine. Let’s do it.”

“Great!” Morgan danced to the mimosa bar, poured four glasses of champagne and handed each of the girls a flute. “A toast is definitely in order.” She tipped her glass to Hope. “Ms. Andrews, would you like to do the honors?”

They gathered in a circle, stood near the window overlooking the indoor pool, then held their crystal flutes toward the clear blue sky.

“A toast to the Rich Girls’ Club. When women come together, there’s nothing men can do to divide us. Brooks, you will become the first female and first African-American governor of the state of California. We salute you, honey.”

Brooks felt confident she’d do a better job of running the state than the current celebrity governor; he was currently preoccupied with getting his own reality TV show. Bailey Goodman was a different kind of politician, and he’d prove to be her biggest competitor for one reason. Californians loved celebs. Since voters weren’t fed up with his spending most of his time in front of the camera instead of behind a desk making decisions in their best interests, the only way she could beat him would be to implement Morgan’s plan.

Bailey was a movie star first and a governor somewhere down the line. However, the bad decisions he’d made wouldn’t be enough to stop voters from reelecting him. How would the Rich Girls frame Goodman without incriminating her? Hopefully Bailey had a few hidden sexcapades with other mistresses that would decrease his votes and allow his affair with her to remain a secret.

“Thanks for trusting me, ladies,” Brooks finally said. “I pray I won’t disappoint you.”

She hoped she was right. She silently prayed to God that Morgan was discreet enough to make sure their sexual encounters remained sacred, and that she never found the one hidden skeleton in Brooks’s closet that would not only destroy their friendship, but ultimately dissolve the Rich Girls’ Club.

“Let’s change the subject,” Brooks insisted. “I want to hear what Storm did to the mayor.”

Hope interrupted. “Not just yet. Morgan, I need to understand why we have to contribute two and a half million dollars each to implement this plan. Why aren’t we using money from the Rich Girls’ Club fund? We have more than enough and we might not need ten million to fund Brooks’s campaign and blackmail her opponents. It’s not like we won’t get contributions.”

“Let’s table that discussion for our next meeting. Right now, I’m with Brooks.” Morgan’s smile beamed as she turned her back to Hope. Facing Storm, she said, “Tell us what happened and don’t leave out any of the dirty details.”

Brooks stood beside Hope. Why couldn’t they use part of the twenty million dollars they had in investments?

H
ope drove along the Interstate with both hands on the steering wheel of her ruby red Porsche 911 GT2 RS. A visual of Storm inserting that dildo into the mayor’s ass made her smile. Only Storm could get away with doing such a thing. Hope would never attempt that with her man. Stanley only liked three things near his asshole: water, soap and toilet tissue.

Hope focused on the road ahead as she commanded her car’s Bluetooth. “Dial…Darius Jones.”

She glanced in her rearview mirror. This was her third and final customer of the morning. As her own boss, Hope strived to end each workday by noon. The sports car she drove was one of eleven vehicles she owned, part of her customized auto collection that was valued at over five million dollars.

Darius answered, “What’s up?”

“Hello, Mr. Jones. This is Hope. I’m approximately fifteen minutes away from your house, with an on-time delivery of the newest addition to your family.”

Hope cruised at twenty miles an hour until she approached the street leading to her client’s home. Slowing through the curvy mountain roadways, trees lined what would’ve been sidewalks in a regular neighborhood. Darius’ private road was not pedestrian-friendly.

The eighteen-wheeler trailed at a safe distance. What was inside the metal container was guaranteed to please any man, especially the man on the other end of the line.

“Damn, I didn’t realize you were coming today. I thought we were scheduled for next week.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t realize I was coming today? I left you a message, sent you a text and an e-mail. But you’re the customer and I stand by my ‘satisfaction guaranteed’ clause. What would you like me to do, Mr. Jones?”

Anytime a man forgot about a nearly half million-dollar purchase, he needed to donate more of his money to charity and spend less on expensive toys. Hope made a mental note to ask Darius for a healthy donation to Brooks’s campaign fund, but timing was important and asking right now would be inappropriate. She’d mention it later on her follow-up call.

He laughed, then said, “Wait, son. Give me a minute, I’m on the phone.…Ms. Andrews, did you make sure all of my requests were met?”

“Absolutely. I personally verified all the upgrades on your Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera are as you specified.” He’d spent more money on customizing the car than the retail price of two-hundred and thirty-eight thousand dollars for the standard version of the vehicle.

“When you see the newest addition to your collection, you’re going to be speechless for at least two minutes. She’s metallic red. Hotter than fire. Fabulous, one of a kind, and all yours! I promise you, it’ll be love at first sight.” Hope increased the volume on the Bluetooth to magnify his excitement.

“Damn, I wish I was there. Gotta fly to Atlanta tomorrow for practice but I’m in D.C. right now with my son.” He exhaled then said, “Long story.”

Decreasing the volume, Hope tapped on her brakes. Great. Darius was over three thousand miles away from his house and he’d forgotten today was the scheduled delivery. Hope supposed parenting emergencies could’ve drastically changed his plans.

A child’s voice whined. “Daddy!”

Hope quickly asked, “Okay, so is anybody home?”

“Son, please, stop. Look, my wife Fancy is at the house. I bought the car for her. It’s a surprise.”

Gently pressing the accelerator, Hope resumed her speed. “Well, with your permission, I can have the driver unload the car in the driveway, uncover it in front of your wife, and have her sign off on the paperwork.” Hope said, crossing her fingers. It was his purchase and she needed his blessing. Either way, she was departing for San Francisco today, but delaying the delivery would mean she’d have to return from San Francisco earlier than scheduled.

“Daddy, get off the phone!”

“My man, give me a few more minutes. I’m almost done.…​That sounds good, Ms. Andrews.”

Quietly, Hope exhaled. “Great. Now, remember. No sales are final with Andrews Luxury Concierge. If for any reason you’re not completely satisfied, you can return the car, no questions asked.” Hope said with a cheerful chuckle. “Call me after your wife takes you for a ride.” Oh, damn. That didn’t come out right.

“Thanks. I gotta go.”

“You’re welcome. Bye,” Hope said, then waited for Darius to end the call.

Damn.
Of all her clients that would’ve found that statement amusing, he was not the one. She was fortunate Darius didn’t cancel his purchase right then and there. Every woman wanted him, and she didn’t want Darius to think she was coming on to him. The media was always right there to slander his name, but they couldn’t dispute Darius’ talent on the basketball court. As a starter for Atlanta, he had a house in Georgia, but considered LA his home.

Soon, Hope was ready to get on with her last delivery so she could meet up with Stanley. She had plans to ride her man’s dick in celebration of another lucrative day. Though she was currently in the middle of a rush, Hope’s business wasn’t usually demanding. Ever since she was a little girl her father’s fast cars had excited her. Over time her dad had taught her everything he knew, and now she was more knowledgeable than he was about cars. She had turned her knowledge into a profitable business.

Owning a door-to-door automobile service for multi-millionaires granted her access to invitation-only celebrity events. Between the gamblers, ballers, politicians, family members, and friends, she never had to solicit for business. Her company thrived on referrals.

For instance, the athletes she serviced loved competition. Hope was sure that once Fancy’s girlfriends saw her car they’d have their husbands call with even more expensive requests. Rich people, especially those living the Hollywood lifestyle with seven-, eight-, and nine-figure checks rolling in, had egos bigger than their bank accounts. They wanted everything either done to or for them.

Hope laughed at another flashback of what Storm had done to the mayor. He probably had a cushion in his chair right now.
Poor thing might not be able to comfortably sit down for a week.
Fortunately for him, he had an assistant to run his errands.

From personal shoppers to caterers to gardeners to masseuses or fitness trainers, the one thing wealthy folks did not want was to be inconvenienced. For Hope, the key to her success was constantly learning all she could about expensive automobiles, especially the newest models. Knowing more than most men about the Ferrari 599 GTB Fiarano, the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, and the Buggati Veyron made her the envy of many girlfriends and wives.

Now that her work was done, the paperwork signed, her ten percent commission check in her purse, Hope headed to the London Hotel for some afternoon delight on the rooftop with her number one man Stanley Perkins.

After sexing Stanley, she was off for a trip to the Bay Area to meet with the top Republican candidate, Johnathon Waters, about supporting his campaign. According to Morgan’s plan, Brooks’s opponents had to be blackmailed before Brooks made her announcement to run in late March. Starting with Hope’s meeting with Johnathon, the Rich Girls had exactly two months to frame all the candidates. Offering hefty financial contributions was their bait. What politician would turn down a million dollars?

Once Hope was done with Johnathon, she would meet with Laura Littleton in Sacramento to hand her a check. Since Laura had a wife instead of a husband, she might prove to be the most difficult opponent to set up.

Who really cared about a woman cheating on a woman? Or a woman cheating on a man? Hope would have to create a different kind of scandal to tarnish Laura’s image.

Hope’s heels clicked along the marble tiles as she strolled into the hotel’s entrance. She stopped at the front desk, reserved a suite, got her room key, then headed for the rooftop.

Stanley greeted her with a juicy kiss that made her pussy pucker. Didn’t take much for him to excite her. She loved the way Stanley made her feel.

He was six-two with almost flat abs and a dazzling smile with nearly straight teeth. The fullness of his chest pressed hard against her cleavage, making her nipples harden.

“Hey, babe. It’s so good to see you.” He sniffed her hair. “Wow, the way you smell drives me crazy. How are you? You all set for our trip to Paris next week?” he asked in a charming, articulate manner. Pulling out her chair, he continued, “We’re overdue for this vacation.”

Stanley was the whitest black man she’d ever met. In fact, when she’d initially met him over the phone, she thought he was white. He worked for the Passport Agency in Los Angeles but what had impressed her most was that he was the boss and he personally serviced all her needs.

Oh, damn.
After Morgan announced the plan, Hope had forgotten about their trip and how much money he’d spent. It had taken him six months to save up for her all-expenses-paid birthday gift. Exhaling, Hope slid her sunglasses atop her head and placed her purse on the empty chair between them.

“Baby, I’m really sorry but I can’t go. I just found out that I have to help my father with a huge project. He’s planning to open another casino,” she lied. “I’m not sure exactly how long it’s going to take but…it’ll be at least twelve months before I can leave the country.” By then the election would be over, Brooks would be sworn in, and Hope would
need
a vacation in Paris.

“What!” he shouted. “Do you have any—?”

“Lower your voice; you’re embarrassing me. Yes, I do know, baby, but it’s not like we won’t still go to Paris. I just can’t go next week or next month. Reschedule it for this time next year, baby.”

Stanley slumped in his seat, staring her in the eyes. “Hope, I can tell you’re being dishonest. Share the truth with me, baby. What are you up to?”

Hope shook her head, slid her sunglasses over her eyes. “I’ve told you as much as I can. I can’t discuss the details of my dad’s plans but,” she paused then motioned for the waiter. “We’ll order room service.”

“Baby, let’s go,” Hope said, leading the way. “I don’t want to talk. I need to feel you inside me.” They stepped onto the elevator, and she pressed the button for their floor. Like most men, Stanley could be distracted with sex. A temporary detour from the conversation was all she wanted right now.

Soon as the doors opened Hope marched ahead of Stanley. Her eyes rolled left to right.

“I’m sure your dad will understand my side. Tell your dad we’ll be back in three weeks. I’ve planned this vacation for—”

“I know,” Hope interrupted, unlocking the door. During the three years she’d dated Stanley he’d met her dad three times, and truthfully he’d possibly never meet him again. She believed women, like men, shouldn’t welcome their mates into their family circle unless they were sure he was the one.

The suite was large enough to comfortably accommodate four people. She had exactly three hours to eat lunch, devour Stanley, and make it to LAX for her flight to SFO. She mixed two vodka and cranberry cocktails from the minibar.

Stanley took a huge gulp of his drink. “So are you going to tell me the truth or not? You want me to call your dad? I insist we go to France as originally planned.”

She thought it was cute how Stanley was trying to take charge. “You go. Take your mom. But I’m not going and I can’t discuss the details. You can’t speak with my father, so please just let it go and take off your clothes,” Hope said, removing her canary wraparound dress. She hung it in the closet and joined Stanley on the sofa in the living area.

His hand caressed the side of her face. He trailed his tense finger from her temple to her cheek.

Hope turned her face, sucked his finger into her mouth. Slowly her lips slid up to his knuckles. She tightened her jaws for him, clenched her pussy for herself. “Mmm.”

Stanley bit her nipple through her lace bra, squeezed her breasts together, then bit the other nipple. “These are the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen. And they’re all mine.” His laugh was hearty, possessive. There was no need to tell him otherwise.

Whispering in his ear, Hope said, “Take my bra and thong off, then suck my nipples until I cum.”

One unsnap in the front and her bra was released. He tossed it on the arm of the couch then eased her thong from between her cheeks. He placed it near her bra.

She straddled him, jiggled her titties in his face, then fed her man…one fifty-cent piece-sized areola at a time. She swore he knew a silent language that spoke to every part her body.

“Ah, yes. Right there. Right there. Yes,” she exhaled, grinding her pussy along his hard shaft.

Stanley was so hard it felt like she was riding a piece of steel. She fed him her other nipple.

“Bite it, baby,” she said, leaning her head back. “Ah, yes. Like that. Mama can hold this titty for you.” She shoved as much of her breast as she could into his mouth then moaned in his ear. “I want you to take your dick, put it inside me, and give me every inch of you.” Exhaling, she continued, “Don’t stop until you feel your nuts touch my lips.”

When she felt his head press against her opening, she whispered, “Go slow, daddy. Penetrate me slow…and deep. I want to feel all of this good dick.”

Stanley did as she asked. When she felt his bulging head part her inner lips, her juices flowed.

“Right there, baby. Pause right there for me,” she moaned. “Now suck my nipple and let me do the work.”

Hope lowered her hips onto his dick then rose to his head and stopped. She kneeled over him. “Bite me, baby. Now,” she pleaded as more juices flowed.

“Get up,” Stanley said. “I’ve got to get this sweetness from behind.”

She was ready for whatever he wanted. Vaginal. Anal. Whatever. She knelt on the sofa, then braced herself across the back. Her titties rested over the edge. Massaging her breasts she looked over her shoulder at him.

He stared into her eyes, spread her butt cheeks wide, licked his fingers, then rubbed her pussy. Licking his fingers again, he strummed her clit like the strings on a guitar.

“You ready for this cock?”

“I stay ready for you, baby,” she said.

“You don’t sound like you’re ready for me. I’m going to ask you again.”
Smack!
His hand tapped her ass. “Are you ready for your man’s cock?”