The Rich Girls' Club (8 page)

“Well, let’s toast,” Morgan said, handing each of them a glass of champagne. “Storm, do not spill yours, okay?”

“Especially not on me,” Hope commented, then laughed.

“We haven’t received an investment report in a few weeks. When should we expect the next one?” Brooks asked.

Of all the things she could’ve mentioned, she would bring that shit up. Morgan laughed in spite of her unease. “I’ve been so busy with the plan I haven’t had time. I’ll have it ready for our next meeting. Storm, why don’t you make the toast.”

“My pleasure.” Holding her glass high in the air, Storm confidently said, “Ladies, pussy is best served…ice cold. We are going to bury these men alive.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Hope said.

“I second,” Morgan agreed.

Brooks nodded.

That was okay. Morgan knew exactly what Brooks needed to relax, and to keep her mouth shut.

R
elieved that the meeting had finally ended, Brooks exhaled, stood, picked up her purse, then walked ahead of Hope, Storm, and Morgan toward the foyer. “Great job, ladies. Thanks. Now it’s back to reading more documents for me and more sex for you guys. Anybody want to trade places? Anybody?” she asked jokingly, just to hear what they’d say.

“Brooks, don’t start asking questions you already know the answer to, honey,” Storm replied. “We know you don’t have a man, but actually that’s a good thing because we need for you to stay focused. Take it from me: men are a distraction. After you win the election, I promise I’ll personally hand pick a good eligible bachelor for you.”

Did any female politicians have healthy sex lives? Now that Brooks thought about it, she couldn’t think of a single super sexy woman elected to or running for a political position. If the females didn’t look masculine and wore pantsuits all the time, they were clothed up to their necks and down to their knees. Brooks was a lady and she intended to continue dressing like one.

“See you guys next week,” she said, heading out the door.

After watching the videos, Brooks was beginning to believe she’d signed up for the wrong part of the plan. Why had Morgan selected her? Morgan was married. Her background wasn’t squeaky clean but it was solid enough for her to win. The one secret that could destroy Morgan, if revealed, was the same one that could destroy Brooks. Brooks prayed that Morgan wouldn’t pry into her personal life.

Behind her, Storm said, “Can’t wait. I’m enjoying the hell out of this ride. Anything a man can do, the Rich Girls can master.”

Brooks stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turned around.

“I second that,” Hope agreed. “In fact, I’m getting ready to go to Stanley’s, fuck him hard, get my pussy satisfied, and keep it moving. He’s been asking too many questions about what I’m doing and getting way too serious regarding our future. Nothing I can’t handle, though. Bye, ladies.” Hope waved as she bypassed Brooks. The wings of her sleek onyx Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren swung above the roof. Hope sat behind the wheel of her million-dollar purchase, and the doors lowered as she eased on her dark sunglasses.

Morgan stood on the porch. “Brooks, wait; come here for a moment. I forgot. We need to go over one more thing before you leave.”

“Bye,” Storm said, getting in her Porsche.

Reluctantly re-entering the house, Brooks sighed heavily. She wanted to go home, soak in her tub, get in her bed, and read more documents until her secret lover arrived to service her.

“It won’t take long, I promise.” Morgan closed the front door and led the way to her bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetie. I’ll be right back.”

Brooks dropped her purse on the chaise, kicked off her shoes, stretched her legs on the sofa, and reclined into the plush pillows. Closing her eyes, she let the weight of her body seep into the cushion like melted butter on hot sourdough. The muscles in her shoulders, back, and neck started to ache.

Wishing she’d kept moving, Brooks sleepily opened her eyes and scanned Morgan’s décor. The new winter white drapes complimented the turquoise accent wall. A hint of rosemary fragrance filled the room. She stared at Morgan’s bed, imagining herself in it. At this moment she didn’t care.
What the hell. Why not?

Brooks removed her clothes then sprawled atop Morgan’s comforter.
Damn, I’m mentally and physically exhausted
, she thought, burying her face in a pillow.

Morgan entered the room laughing. “You deserve a few hours off and that’s all you can have, so don’t get up, girl, but don’t get too comfortable either. I promise I’ll have you camera-ready on announcement day. If the public sees you looking beat, you won’t have a chance of winning.” Morgan said this as she set three glasses and a bottle of chilled champagne on the nightstand.

“I wanted you to have a drink with me but I see you need the rest. I’ll do the drinking and talking; you make the decisions.”

She could do that if she didn’t pass out first, but Brooks wasn’t too tired to notice the third flute. “Okay. What do I need to decide?”

Oil drizzled down her spine, seeping between her butt cheeks, soiling her satin panties. “Oh, no.” This wasn’t the direction she wanted to go in. She did desperately need a massage, but not from Morgan, or the other person’s hands she felt gliding across her skin.

Thick fingers and wide palms kneaded her lower back. In spite of her reservations, she said, “Oh, my, gosh. That feels so good.” And it did. She couldn’t deny the incredible feeling, but she wished they were Goodman’s hands instead. He would be at her house in a few hours. “You’d better hurry up and tell me what I have to consider before I doze off,” Brooks said, looking over her shoulder. She gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Headquarters. Where do you want me to setup your headquarters?” Morgan asked, pressing Brooks’s head back into the pillow. “Relax. He’s not going to do anything you don’t want. Now, how many campaign offices do you need and where do you want them? I have a list of suggestions.”

Had Morgan intentionally left this topic out of today’s discussion? Hope and Storm’s opinions mattered to Brooks.

“Since you have the list, let’s consult with the group next week. Is this man the reason you asked me to stay?”

Suddenly there were four hands on Brooks’s back. This was not like one of the professional, synchronized massages she’d had at Angel’s. Having a man on each side of the table, rubbing her up and down in unison, was heavenly. The feel of Morgan’s hands sliding up one side of her back, over her shoulder blades, and up to her neck was okay, but Brooks was annoyed that this man she barely knew was touching her in the same way.

Other than seeing Bo in his familiar chef uniform, he was technically a stranger to her. Could he be trusted? Brooks buried her face in the comforter. Morgan massaged her shoulders; Bo continued massaging her lower back. Brooks had herself to blame. She shouldn’t have given in to Morgan’s sexcapades when they’d first met.

Now Morgan was taking things too far, but she’d also piqued Brooks’s curiosity. Brooks never had a ménage à trois…and she’d seen enough to know that Bo was packing. Maybe her friend thought she needed to get some dick. But sexing Bo would be like eating forbidden fruit.

“I don’t need help,” Morgan said.

Did she mean with selecting the locations or the fact that Bo was rubbing Brooks’s neck? Bo hadn’t said a word, and Brooks thought that was smart on his behalf. His hands continued roaming.

“I can select the locations but you know how you are. The minute I decide, you’ll have a long list of questions, so it’s best we do it together,” Morgan climbed into the bed. “After we’re done with this we can enjoy that.”

Lifting her head to look up at Bo, Brooks said, “Why don’t we deal with that now? I can’t do him.” Brooks scooted beside Morgan.

Morgan caressed one of Brooks’s breasts and motioned for Bo to do the same to the other.

Brooks pleaded, “Please don’t. I need dick badly but I’m not letting your chef fuck me. I just remembered I have to go home.”

Morgan forced her back onto the bed, continuing to touch and tease her nipples. Bo gently covered her areola with his mouth. Brooks realized that the only thing missing from the masculine side of Morgan’s personality was a real dick.

Looking at both of them Brooks wondered, who was more confident in the bedroom? Men like Bo who might have a comfortable cushion in their bank account? Or multi-millionaire women? When things went wrong, a man could be a bastard but a woman could be a bitch. What if Bo could be both?

Morgan removed her clothes, stretched Brooks’s legs along the mattress, then straddled her thigh. She positioned her pussy atop Brooks’s clit and started tribbing. Her hips rolled back and forth, and each time she moved she ground her engorged shaft against Brooks’s clit. Bo’s hands were caressing both Morgan’s and Brooks’s breasts. His twirled Brooks’s nipple to a rhythm that made her cum quickly.

Moaning, Brooks stared at her friend. “We really shouldn’t be doing this in your bed. What would Magnum think if he walked in?”

The mild orgasm took the edge off. Her release was an energy she wanted to save for Goodman, not release to Bo.

Sex was how her friendship with Morgan had begun. Could a woman have a one-night stand with another woman? Even so, Brooks had known when her initial one-on-one with Morgan happened it was destined to be more. Love for each other was how their relationship had grown.

After meeting at the women’s club in Beverly Hills, Morgan had come to her coffee shop late that night. There were about twenty customers; a few, like Morgan, sat alone with only their computers and cell phones for company. Morgan started a casual conversation that led to their discovering they shared similar views on success, money, politics, and sex, with the exception that Brooks had never been with a woman.

Morgan looked down at Brooks, leaned toward her, then grabbed her hips. “Shut up and give him my pussy.”

Brooks’s body was hot from the constant gyration. The inside of her vagina felt like it was on fire and ready to combust. “I’m not sexing him and I mean that.” Morgan may have been on top but she wasn’t in control.

Brooks’s opposition represented so many things. She never should’ve let Morgan talk her into running for governor. Since she’d agreed she had to think smart, and letting Bo put his dick inside her was everything except. What if Morgan had a hidden camera recording them and Magnum found it?

Two months ago Brooks’s life had been perfect. Normal, sort of. In five weeks the deadline to enter the race would be here and her privacy and the privacy of those around her might become public.

But maybe she should take advantage of this opportunity with this fine man. If Morgan trusted him, why shouldn’t she? Except it wasn’t as though Brooks didn’t have a man. She actually had two.

The men in her life might eventually be exposed and Bo, if things went well, could replace them. Her ex-husband could become media-worthy for all the wrong reasons. And the woman that loved her more than anyone else, might end up hating her. And only God knew what this Bo guy was really up to.

“Ah, yes, that’s it. Fuck me harder,” Morgan moaned. Leaning her head forward she kissed Brooks’s breast.

Consumed with her thoughts, Brooks hadn’t realized that Bo was fucking Morgan doggie-style until Morgan’s hips were thrusting fast. He banged Morgan so hard Brooks heard his balls slapping against Morgan’s skin.

Brooks stared at them, imagined she had a dick. Imagined that she was deep inside of Morgan the way Magnum was deep inside of her when they made love.

Brooks slid her hand between Morgan’s thighs and massaged her friend’s clit.

“That’s right. Get it. Both of y’all do me. You know exactly how to please me, don’t you?” Morgan stared down at her. “Keep stroking my pussy, Brooks, I’m about to cum for you,” Morgan said, sliding her finger inside of Brooks.

Brooks wondered if Morgan’s marriage would be in jeopardy if Magnum walked in right now, or would he join the party without asking any questions? Would a man really leave his woman or his wife for infidelity if the person she was cheating with was another woman? Or what about a man he’d heard about but had never met, like Bo? Brooks hated that in the moment all she should’ve focused on was going home, but she couldn’t turn off the endorphins in her brain.

“I’ve got to taste you,” Morgan said. “I want your pussy in my mouth.”

Brooks had been on the giving end of performing cunnilingus. Morgan was her first and only. “When a woman knows what she likes, that’s a good place to start,” Morgan had told her. And she was right.

She positioned herself closer to the headboard, tilted her ass upward, spread her thighs wide. Bo kneeled behind Morgan, started licking from her clit to her asshole. Were women better lovers for women and men for men? Did one’s ability to deliver intense pleasure to the same sex make cumming more fun? Brooks stared at Bo as Morgan’s mouth cupped her pussy.

“Go slower,” Brooks said, gripping Morgan’s platinum blond hair. She didn’t want to come too fast.

She brushed Morgan’s hair away from her face so she could see her gorgeous grey eyes. Brooks wondered what Storm and Hope would think if they knew, and whether Morgan was fantasizing about Hope’s bodacious boobs or voluptuous butt. She couldn’t blame Morgan if she were. Hope’s body was undeniably beautiful.

Closing her eyes, Brooks pretended Hope’s double-Es were rubbing against her nipples right now. If Storm were there, too…Brooks didn’t want to visualize what Storm might do to Bo.

She held Hope’s breasts in her mind and twirled her nipples until they became erect. Then she whispered to Morgan, “Lick me the way Bo is licking you.”

The complexities of sexuality and life wouldn’t be so complicated if all her fantasies had stayed in her head.

“Um, yes.” Morgan moaned, then inserted her middle finger deep into Brooks’s vagina.

Strumming softly against her G-Spot, Morgan suctioned the tip of Brooks’s clit into her mouth. Gradually the rhythm of her fingers kept pace with the flick of her tongue. Her tongue began to flutter. Her finger flickered faster until…

“Oh, my gosh, Mag…gan,” Brooks screamed, grabbing Morgan’s hair. “Morgan, baby! Morgan.” Brooks kept repeating Morgan’s name. Fluids gushed from her urethra, showering Morgan’s face.

Brooks continued, “Baby, baby. Oh, my gosh, I love you so much.” The near hiccup bothered her. She’d never done that in eight years. Why now? Maybe it was because in her mind she’d replaced Bo with Magnum.

Morgan slapped Brooks’s ass hard.

“Ow, that hurts!”

Morgan pushed Bo backward. “Leave now.”

Quietly he gathered his clothes, exiting the same as he’d arrived.

“What hurts is your lying there while I’m eating your pussy and you almost called out my husband’s name. What the fuck is going on in your head? What was that about? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

Brooks shook her head. The sheet beneath her ass was soaked. Her explosive orgasm was about to blow up in her face. “No, I didn’t.”