Whatever Miguel does, it makes big money. Import-export, he says. Porsches. Penthouses. Parties.
Parties for his “associates.” Bad boys like him. And their women. Bad girls like Linda.
Linda is beautiful. Tall and thin with outsized orbs. Tiny hips and ass with tits so full and flawless they must be surgically enhanced.
But they aren’t.
Miguel likes to show her off. “No bra tonight,’ he says. She loves being watched. Undressed by their eyes. But he doesn’t ask her to fuck them. Not like some boyfriends would.
Linda wouldn’t mind. A few, like Sergio, are hot. Hotter than Miguel. They flirt. Cop quick feels. But they are hesitant. Unsure of Miguel. Afraid.
Miguel is clever. Cruel. Unpredictable.
A selfish lover. Miguel cums quick. On her face and neck and tits. Pearl necklace, he says. Like it’s something precious. Linda laughs inside. Just a feral dog marking territory.
When he’s finished, Miguel falls asleep. Or picks up his phone. To get off, Linda does herself.
Sometimes she thinks of Renata back in their village. Pretty Renata with soft brown eyes and a silky tongue. Always caring. Always giving. Linda misses that kind of love. But Renata can’t buy Linda red Jimmy Choo heels or black Dior dresses.
Tonight there’s a new associate. Fernando. Prissy name for a big man. Bulked up. Hungry eyes. Tongue flickers like a coiled snake. Seen it all. Done it all. Not afraid of anything.
Not the law. Not death.
Certainly not Miguel.
Linda is wet just looking.
Miguel is preoccupied. Drinks too much. Talks too much. Always on his phone.
“Dance?” Fernando asks. Voice deeper than a muddy well.
She nods and follows. Outside. Under a river of stars.
Her arms hang on his neck. Nipples stiff. Tingling. His hard cock grinds her soft, wet pussy.
Rock hard muscles, too. Like men get in a place where there’s nothing else to do but pump iron.
“What were you in for?” she asks.
He pulls back, surprised. Looks her in the eye.
“Murder,” he says. A killer, not a liar.
“Dangerous,” she whispers. “So hot.”
“Linda!” Sergio calls out, spoiling the mood. Sergio is Miguel’s oldest homey. “Miguel needs you.”
“Gotta go,” she says, unwinding herself from Ferdinand’s twitchy cock. Sultry glance. Come fuck me, she says without words.
Miguel has passed out. Snoring. Linda slaps him. Red handprint and a moan. Nothing more.
Sergio and Linda drag him to the bedroom. Like hauling a sack of blue corn flour. Linda strips Miguel. His cock slack as twine. She strokes it softly. No response. Wraps it in her fingers and pumps. Still nothing.
“Better leave,” Sergio mutters, backing toward the door. She wishes he wouldn’t. Linda teases Sergio. Catching his eye, she sucks Miguel between her lips. I can suck you off too, her eyes say. Sergio is torn between loyalty and lust.
Miguel moans. Sergio flees. Linda frowns. Her only loyalty is to the craving in her gut. No. Not her gut. Her cunt. Her wanting cunt.