The Rich Girls' Club (7 page)

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his Saturday’s meeting was special because they would be celebrating how smoothly Morgan’s plan was going. Five weeks had gone by since Brooks had agreed to run for governor and another five weeks remained before the announcement of her campaign.

The first thing Morgan did before today’s meeting was call her husband.

“What now, Morgan?” he answered.

“Damn. I’m just checking to see if you need anything from the house.”

“Not a thing, babe,” he said. “When have I ever needed anything from the house on the weekend in the last three years?”

Damn, her husband could’ve said, “You.” But that was cool. She wasn’t trying to give him a reason to come home. “Not a change of clothes?”

“I said nothing. Go on, have your lil’ political meeting. I told you she’s not going to win. You’re wasting your time, but at least you’re helping Anthony Dennison win. Whatever you do, do not take money from our investments to fund this. Bye.”

Guess he’s trying a different approach, Morgan thought.

Magnum’s relentless requests that Brooks not run had repeatedly fallen upon Morgan’s deaf ears. Talking down to her was out of character for him—he was definitely making his position clear that he was strongly opposed to her idea, but Morgan wasn’t about to let his selfish, chauvinistic attitude ruin her plan.

She didn’t want him to come home. What she really didn’t want was for him to overhear talk about her obligation to sex Goodman or to catch her sexing another person in their house. She prayed her inquiries wouldn’t make her husband decide to show up after he’d promised not to.

The DVD player and large flat screen television were powered up and ready so they could view Storm and Hope’s footage. The mimosas and Bloody Mary bar were fully stocked for the girls. Bo had put out fresh mangos, pineapples, and pitted cherries, along with caviar and organic wheat crackers on silver platters. He’d placed them in the center of the conference table and left the clubroom immediately. Now he was back in the kitchen preparing the hot side of the menu for their brunch, and would only return upon her request. Morgan couldn’t risk having anyone outside of the group discover their secrets, especially a man.

On her way to the foyer, she stopped in the kitchen. “Smells delicious in here, Bo,” she said with a wide smile.

Bo smiled back. “I always aim to please you, Mrs. Childs. Anything I can do to be a pleasure to you is why I’m here.”

The way he said, “pleasure,” made her moist. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have below his waist. The bulge there showed her how endowed he was under his white pants. Since Magnum seemed to be rationing out his dick lately, she might have to do her chef until her husband resumed sexing her four days a week.

“I might need you to stay a little late today.”

Bo smiled then started chopping garlic cloves. “Anything you need or want, Mrs. Childs, don’t hesitate.” The rhythm in the movement of his wrist let her know dicing wasn’t all he was good at.

Imagining him teasing her clit, she stared at his dick, then said, “Yeah, in fact. I do need you.”

He nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“When you’re done, take a shower and relax in one of my guest bedrooms. I’ll come and get you when I’m ready.”

Exhaling, she continued her journey, making her way to the front door. Her timing—or should she say
their
timing—was impeccable. Morgan was elated to see all the girls walking up the stairs.

“Well, this is the first time in a while that everyone is on time,” she said, closing the door after they’d entered. “Let’s go. Everything is set up in the clubroom and I can’t wait to see the juicy stuff Storm and Hope captured.”

“Mine first,” Hope said, “because I know I’m not going to top Mz. Girlie here.”

“You know it,” Storm agreed, handing Morgan, Brooks, and Hope a copy of her DVD. “Keep those duplicates in a
safe
place. ‘Safe’ being the operative word. I have the masters from all three cameras at home.”

“Here’s mine,” Hope said to the group. “Ditto. Except I copied footage from one camera. But that’s all you guys need to see,” she said, then laughed.

Morgan realized then that as part of the plan she should’ve told them that she was the only one that would hold onto copies of all the videos and the masters. “I need both of you to give me the originals and those copies you just handed out. The more copies that are out there, the greater the risk.”

“Too late,” Storm said. “I’m keeping mine.”

Morgan would have to find another way to convince them. Finding a secret place that Magnum didn’t have access to was easy. But for the first time, she’d have a reason to lock the vault in the clubroom and have a door installed at the entrance to the West Wing. Controlling what happened to the other videos was impossible unless the girls agreed to turn over everything to her.

During the stroll through the corridors and into the clubroom Morgan noticed that Brooks was unusually quiet, seemingly deep into her own thoughts. Brooks walked straight to the bar, poured herself a Bloody Mary, then sat alone on her chaise. She stirred the liquid inside the crystal glass with a celery stalk pinched between her fingers her eyes fixed on her drink.

Morgan thought back to the first time she’d met Brooks—eight years ago at the women’s club in Beverly Hills. It was at their orientation with the organization. At that time, Morgan had been twenty-nine, Brooks thirty-seven. Brooks was the most striking woman in the room, and Morgan had quickly gravitated toward her.

Over the years of getting to know one another, eight had become their lucky number. Brooks was eight years older than she was. They lived eight miles apart, loved competing for the eight ball when shooting pool, and of the members in the Rich Girls’ Club, they’d known one another the longest—those eight years.

Storm snapped her fingers in Brooks’s direction. “Hey, girl. You, okay? This is our most exciting meeting yet and you seem so down. Take a few big swigs of your drink. Maybe that’ll help pep you up.” Storm went to the bar, grabbed the vodka and poured an extra shot into Brooks’s Bloody Mary.

Brooks shook her head. Smiled, halfway. “I’m good. It’s just that trying to keep up with all the background information on each opponent is overwhelming. I can’t shut my brain off.” She stood, joining them at the conference table. “Right now Randy’s voting record for the last decade is scrolling across my mind like it’s on a teleprompter.”

“Well, we’re about to lighten your mental load because when you see my video, honey, you will never view Randall Wallace the same way. Girl, you are going to strut down easy street. I can’t believe how simple these guys are,” Storm said.

“Before we roll the footage, let me have the food brought in,” Morgan said. She lowered the electronic shades, dimmed the track lights, then waited for Bo to arrive. As soon as he did, he set up the warm dishes.

“Thanks, Bo.” What Morgan hoped Bo would agree to do to Brooks later would help take Brooks’s mind off of all her opponents.

Once Bo was out of sight, Morgan suggested the girls prepare their plates. When everyone was once again seated at the table, she pressed play on the remote.

Hope’s high-definition video was so crystal clear it almost appeared as 3D. Her neatly arched dark brows, long lashes, vibrant red lips, and silky brunette hair showed beautifully in the opening scene. A soft hint of blush made her face glow.

“How did you get your camera to zoom in on your face like that?” Brooks asked. “Mine doesn’t do that.”

“I’m sure it does,” Storm answered. “All cameras these days have zoom.”

“I’ll turn you on to my tech guy. He’s the biggest geek I’ve ever met. I keep him around,” Hope said, watching herself in action, “because he’s very in tune with the latest technology. He’s the best and I keep him a secret from Stanley.”

“That’s why I need all the DVDs. We can’t afford to have this geek or Stanley leaking this to the press…oh, oh,” Morgan said. “The ol’ spill-the-drink-to-get-him-out-of-his-underwear routine. Nice move but…damn.”

Storm commented, “The look in his eyes says he wants your pussy in his mouth right away girl. Damn…look at that nice big dick. Who would’ve thought he was packing all that? If this goes public, Mr. Waters will have a line of women eager to ride that. Trust me. I know a champion when I see one.”

Brooks laughed. “No, you are not breast feeding him like your nipples are pacifiers. This doesn’t look staged at all. You should get an award for your performance.”

Morgan was happy that in the middle of watching Hope’s video, Brooks smiled. And the awards idea was a good one. After the election Morgan might put together the best clips, create categories, and give trophies to the girls just for fun.

Laughing out loud at the video, Brooks seemed closer to being her usual jovial self.

The Rich Girls had never watched one another sexing anyone. Focusing on the screen, they could see that Hope’s body was gorgeous in motion. Fluid. Flexible. Seeing their friend nude was more exciting than watching her fuck Johnathon. Morgan wondered if the camera would love her naked body as much as it complimented Hope’s. A few minutes later, in the middle of her thoughts, the screen faded to black.

“That’s it! Johnathon’s ass is done!” Storm said, downing her glass of champagne.

“Not bad at all,” Hope said, patting herself on the back.

“I’ll second that,” Morgan said with a smile. “Girl, seeing the way you roll your pussy is so orgasmic I swore I was watching a porn star in action. And those twins are simply to die for. Storm is right. Poor Johnathon doesn’t stand a chance.”

Brooks’s smile turned upside down.
What now?
Morgan thought but refused to ask. Watching her friend flash these highs and lows, Morgan prayed Brooks wasn’t becoming bipolar.

Storm’s footage was next. Morgan pressed play. If she paused to babysit Brooks, the enthusiasm of the group would vanish.

“We are some clever bitches,” Hope said. “Storm, you’re putting that pussy right in his face while he’s asleep. Or did you hypnotize his ass? By the way, love the swimsuit.”

Hope was loosening up in a way Morgan hadn’t witnessed before. Morgan wondered if it was Hope’s videotape that made her more vocal. Was this her first time seeing herself sex a man? Morgan had so many tapes of herself she kept them in storage so Magnum wouldn’t find them. Husband or no husband, no man wanted to see his wife fucking another man.

“Hypnotize my ass. I did not want to waste time seducing that man. I added a few sleeping pills in the OJ and knocked him out. Wasn’t my fault he gulped nearly two glasses in fifteen minutes. He passed out immediately and I fucked him right away.” Storm danced around her chair. “Don’t miss the good part,” she said, sitting on the edge of her seat. “Watch the screen, not me.”

Brooks asked, “What did you tell him when he woke up?”

“I wrote a note. Told him he fell asleep and I couldn’t wake him. Lied about having an appointment and for him to let himself out,” Storm explained. “He’s still trying to figure that shit out.”

Morgan frowned. “What the hell. I know that’s a cock ring but what’s that black ball on top of his tiny nuts?”

Storm cleared her throat. “First off, that’s a10-Speed Vibrating Cock Ring. It’s a nice, wide, jelly ring that stretches over his dick. The vibrating egg fits inside this lil’ cocoon and has soft stimulating ticklers to massage his balls and the woman’s clit. I chose to give him an awesome blowjob while setting the speed on cruise control. I could’ve rode that little ass dick but the vibration would’ve had to make both of us cum. The most important thing to remember, ladies, is,” Storm said, holding up a small device, “never relinquish your remote.”

“Shit, I need one of those for Magnum,” Morgan said. “Damn, I’m about to have an orgasm just thinking about how the vibration would stimulate both of…damn Storm! Where do you get all of this from?” Morgan’s eyes grew wide. Shaking her head and looking at the screen she said, “Please tell me that is not what I think it is.”

Storm laughed. “You know it is. That’s my trademark now. When I say ‘fuck ’em’ I mean it.”

Randall was going to lose it when he saw that big black dildo inside his ass, making his dick shoot cum in the air like a fountain.

Hope chimed in. “That’s blackmail for your ass right there.”

Morgan frowned then laughed at Hope. “Well, now that we have two home runs, ladies, whose head is on the chopping board next?” Morgan asked, staring at Brooks.

Brooks was back to being unusually quiet. Morgan shared a look with Storm.

Hope chimed in. “Let’s see…Anthony Dennison and Laura Littleton. Storm has got Anthony and Laura is all mine. Haven’t figured out a way to blackmail her. I don’t do chicks but if that’ll make her fold her hand, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Morgan replied, “No, she’s a lesbian but even if she weren’t, the media and society do not care about two women having an adulterous relationship—”

“Or if a woman cheats on her husband,” Storm added.

Staring at each of the girls, Morgan said, “Mine better not ever cheat on me.”

Brooks stated, “Maybe Laura had a baby that she gave up for adoption when she was a teenager. Or had an abortion. Or she’s hired illegal aliens to work for her. There’s got to be something scandalous we can uncover.”

Morgan raised her brows. “You’re right. What if she kicked her dog? You know Californians will stand up for animals and hug trees before they vote against the death penalty.”

Hope interjected, “Speaking of the death penalty, that’s what we need to eradicate. California is spending billions of dollars keeping inmates on death row. I’ll research the details and see if it’s a cause worthy of Brooks’s support.”

“Brooks can’t support that,” Morgan said. “It’s too risky.”

“Back to Laura. She’s a tough one. We can switch if you’d like, Hope,” Storm suggested.

“I’ve got it. I’m loving the challenge. Trust me, come Election Day, her name might be on the ballot but I guarantee you girls, Laura will not win.”

Brooks was silent again.