“Welcome and good evening friends,” Dominique begins with an evil smile on her face and an equally devilish twinkle in her eye (I’d like to say, at the very least, the term ‘friends’ is a misnomer.) Raising her glass in toast she continues, “This is the first time I’ve brought all of you together in this particular configuration—for a very special purpose…and I thank you for accepting my invitation to this little soirée. As you know, I don’t normally celebrate birthdays or holidays, but this year, I’m making an exception. As a woman matures, she needs love, affection, and support, especially from the important men in her life.” I’m assuming she’s referring to her birthday, but that’s the only hint she gives us of the actual festivities planned. “Each of you is not only a friend but a business partner, and perhaps a lover.” (This elicits a chorus of nervous giggles and hearty laughs from all around the dining table…she does know how to titillate.) Once the commotion dies down she continues, “Tonight, I want to celebrate us—our achievements—our successes—our friendships—and our future…to us!”
“To us!” the handsome chorus enthusiastically responds to the toast.—With a flourish, she raises her glass of Kristal and downs it in response. After finishing her glass, Dominique takes her seat and remarks almost absentmindedly, “I can’t help but think about all the money we’ve made…this is the most extraordinary mastermind group I’ve put together so far.”
“Ummm…What do you mean so far?” J.R. questions.
“It means, I’m not retiring any time soon…just in case anyone was thinking I’m getting too old to play a Bond girl.”
Godfrey points out. “Well, you’re certainly not going to land the part in a movie…You’re not in your twenties anymore.”
Dominique doesn’t relinquish the point, “I disagree…Tom Cruise didn’t learn how to fly a helicopter until he was in his 50s…and he’s considerably older than me, had been flying fixed-wing for years, and is right handed. But I’m familiar with the argument, and based solely on my looks, I’ve been too old to land the part of ingénue for at least a decade now…Why do you think I decided it would just be easier to become a Bond girl in real life?”
Archer questions Dominique, “Wait, did you just try to out Alpha Tom Cruise?”
“Technically, as the hot chick—if there’s a tie, I automatically win.” Technically, Dominique’s right—But rather than pursue the topic of Tom Cruise, (seriously, who needs more competition) I decide to turn the subject back to her original topic, “Before we get too far off the topic of money, what’s this about a slush fund?”
“Normally, in polite society, we wouldn’t discuss money or sex—but in this situation, I don’t believe the term ‘polite society’ applies.” Godfrey answers, “Milton, you don’t come from old money so you don’t understand—there’s always an issue with gold digging bitches trying to horde your sperm. (it’s not just a cliché.) The reason why Dominique is so popular with wealthy men—is we all know up front what the deal is with her, there’s no subterfuge.”
“And what is, ‘the deal’ with her?” I ask.
“Business before pleasure, and even then, only as negotiated. Which brings me back to your original question about a slush fund…In my case, unfortunately, by the time Dominique was of legal age, there wasn’t anything left in mine. Truthfully, there hadn’t been for a long time so needless to say, I was grateful to have a woman in my life that had fixed expenses (once we agreed on a reasonable allowance amount. I’ve had perhaps a little too much fun in my life. (Unlike Archer) who’s never needed to touch his safety account. At ten million a year, I’d be having a lot more fun than playing games with Dominique…not that playing games with Dominique isn’t fun, but there would definitely be sex involved.”
Archer comments, “Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to criticize me Godfrey. That tiny investment of ten million dollars annually, for the last thirty years just hit a billion dollars a few months ago.”
“Whew!” I whistled.
“Wait, how does the math work? It seems to me you’d be just short of a billion after only thirty years.” J.R. may be young, but he can do math, quicker and better than me, apparently.
Archer replies, “After the first decade, the fund hit 100 million so I had access to institutional investments that are not exactly available to the average schmuck. That and the Bitcoin mining operation Taylor opened in 2010 has been hugely profitable.”
“I’m assuming that would explain the wind farm…and your expansion into solar energy.” Godfrey comments, starting to look a little toasty, but still on pointe.
“Precisely…That and the governmental subsidies under the Obama administration were really amazing (for alternative energy companies anyway.) If I thought any of you paid taxes, I’d thank you for your money, but I know everyone in this group is smarter than the IRS. Fortunately, I have a dear friend who turned me on to Bitcoin, before anyone knew it was going to be a thing…and that raised the value of the trust—significantly.”
“By dear friend…you mean the hot chick in the room?” Godfrey teases.
“Perhaps. She did take her first computer programming course in 19—”
“Ahem.” Dominique cuts him off before Archer can make a mistake, “I do resemble that remark…But I won’t confirm my age.”
I circle back around to the subject of the slush fund and ask Archer, “At what point is the slush fund big enough? Why continue to contribute? Even if you had a whore a day for the rest of your life, you’re never going to spend a billion dollars on hookers.”
He responds, calmly and cooly, although I get the impression, he feels like he’s talking to a child. “You’re missing the point…The women are just an excuse, the trust is set-up as an automatic wealth transfer vehicle from my father’s legacy, to mine.”
“I’d still start spending the money.” J.R. comments, “Women worth fucking—are expensive.”
“Don’t worry kid—some of that billion is in the REIT I set-up for you.” Godfrey states.
“OK—well, in that case…thank you!”
“It’s a good think this isn’t a blind trust or I’d have to give you hell for disclosing my investments.” Archer says to Godfrey.
“It’s not like you’re a politician—and it’s not like anyone outside of this room will ever hear about it.” Godfrey kids back.
“Besides Ceci.” I point out…Apparently they’d temporarily forgotten where they were.
“Oh, of course Ceci is watching, but we assume that.” Archer comments.
“Speaking of politicians—you’re so squeaky-clean Archer…why don’t you run for governor?” I ask…trying to determine if Godfrey was probing Archer for information or just buzzed.
“Now you sound like Dominique.”
“Really?!” This time its Godfrey’s turn to be surprised. “I didn’t realize she was the one behind the campaign to get you to run.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Dominique counters, “It merely came up in conversation, and my advice to Archer was that even though he’s a closeted Libertarian, (yes, I’m outing you…deal with it.)…If he does make a run, he should do it as a Republican….Speaking of advice, Archer, I don’t know how you can stand to eat that. I’d never order salmon if it’s served on a cedar plank—am I the only person who prefers their fish to smell like fish and not their sauna?”
Fortunately before the conversation goes completely off the rails, Sebastian proposes a toast, “Well, since no one else has done it yet, I’m going to be the first to wish Dominique a Happy Birthday.
Godfrey seconds it, “Here, here. All hail the queen!”
Dominique bows, and proclaims, “Thank you, thank you my darlings…Although technically, I’m only a Marquess, I’ll take the promotion.” Before sitting down and changing the topic back to her men and their business, “Let me see, if my calculations are correct, Archer and Godfrey have been in business together the longest. Godfrey, how long have you been Archer’s financial advisor?”
“I took over after my father had his first heart attack.” Godfrey answers. “Before going into private wealth management, my father was Archer’s father’s CFO for nearly two decades….That’s how my family started working with the Taylors….Actually, now that I think about it, Milton—wasn’t your father the family attorney back then?”
“He was…But I didn’t take over until Dominique got involved.”
“I remember exactly when Godfrey first infiltrated my family’s business, it was the year Dominique and I broke up.” Archer answers. “I was always suspicious of you—you’ve never had a real job…and I don’t particularly trust hedge fund managers—which is what you basically are…(Even the ones that don’t work for Stratton Oakmont.)”
“Well, in that case, let’s not discuss it, or what year it was, just that it was before you became President of Taylor.” Dominique deftly changes the subject to something more interesting, but just as juicy, as far as gossip goes, “Which might not have happened—had you married me.”
“Do you really believe that?” Archer asks.
“Are you kidding me? Have you met your father?” Dominique responds, with a slightly sarcastic tone before modulating it and continuing, “Stupid people are afraid of smart people…And people who don’t trust people, aren’t trustworthy themselves…I’m sorry, I know that’s cruel to say about your father, but it’s true. The reason why he hates me so much is because he recognized from the beginning that if you’d married me—in reality, I’d be in charge of Taylor today, not you. I was born with an innate business genius, you went to business school to learn a bunch of terms to regurgitate…it’s not even a fair playing field.”
Well, I certainly didn’t see this coming…I’m pretty sure no one else did either.
Fortunately, Dominique decides to drop the subject. She turns to Sebastian and asks him, “Sebastian—you’ve been very quiet tonight…is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just been a very long and draining day. I spent most of it fighting with Eve, a good portion of it packing, and the rest of it was spent traveling.”
“Oh poor, poor Sebastian…Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll personally tuck you into bed.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I could use some sleep before tomorrow’s festivities.” It was a simple answer…But it betrayed her manipulative ways…I couldn’t help but think that Sebastian was a little too easily lead into that answer. That’s the way it works—all of her men do whatever they want…unless she wants them to do what she wants them to instead.
Dominique replies, “Of course. Let’s go now.” She stands up, grabs Sebastian’s hand and proclaims, “Good night boys…I’ll expect everyone at breakfast tomorrow—and no, Godfrey, it’s not optional.” She behaves badly because she can. She doesn’t care if they say no—actually she prefers it…Knowing they‘d eventually each submit to allowing her to do whatever she wanted regardless or in spite of what they thought they wanted turns her on.
Once Dominique’s lead Sebastian far enough away from the dining room for them to be out of earshot, Godfrey mockingly comments, “Oh, poor, poor Sebastian—he breaks up with Eve every time he wants to see Dominique.”
“It does seem to be a pattern…Do you think it’s a scam?” I ask.
Godfrey points out, “He is a sports agent…Which means he has the same business model as a loan shark—get your money off the top.”
“Well, there is that.” I comment.
“I’m a little tired, a little drunk, and very horny, if I can't have her—I can definitely use a man…anyone up for a little fun?” Godfrey asks.
Archer and J.R. immediately excuse themselves. Archer heads to his room, J.R. heads down to the pool deck, as usual.
“Speaking of the top, “I reply, “I’ll do you. I’ll meet you next to the kitchen after I clean-up…as long as you shower and shave yourself.”
“I know I look rough. You have no idea what kind of week I’ve had…and I hope you never do.”
“That bad?” I query.
“That bad…” Godfrey earnestly replies.
“Care to share?” I ask…Noticing he’s clearly upset.
“I’d rather not…at least not quite yet…I may need your legal advice at some point—but hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
“Well, in that case, you definitely need some relaxation…Let’s have one more drink before we prepare for some more ‘interesting’ fun.”
Later that evening…
We find Archer sitting in his room alone, happily meditating on the pain, but whether it’s real or a hallucination….that’s hard to discern from his screams. Ceci tells me later that she’d nearly intervened when suddenly Archer’s hallucination morphs into a giggly euphoria and he starts reciting, “Every day from here to there, funny things are everywhere.” From One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss.
Talk about having an interesting evening, Archer walks in on Godfrey and I having sex in the kitchen—although I think he just imagines that he does…(He’s having trouble with discerning reality.) According to Ceci, he (not exactly accidentally) ingests at least two to three times his usual microdose, which, (obviously) makes it no longer a microdose. Dominique visits Archer in his suite several times throughout the night to whisper something in his ear. After every mysterious visit—once she’s left, he ingests one or more various and assorted, legal or otherwise drugs. It’s no wonder he can’t quite remember if he saw Godfrey and I having a thing. (I’m pretty certain he never knew either of us went that way.) As for what Archer did actually see? That’s a good question. Once he starts to come down, he spends the early morning hours before breakfast in a haze trying to figure out what happened to him.
If you were wondering what J.R. was doing during all this commotion—he’s still sitting outside by the pool…only now with a bottle of Jack, a box of cigars, and a container of coke (a gift from Godfrey)—ranting at the moon—fuck you—fuck you! Fuck! You! Fuck!
Who let the boys out to play?