It All Started With a Suitcase Full of Cash (#iaswasfoc) Chapter 16 - The Scene at the Pool

2019-01-01T03:39:54.000Z Honest Cash

She finds them poolside where she interrupts their conversation to ask Archer if he plans on putting in a bid for tonight.

He replies, “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything…Will you take a check?”

“From you? Definitely…from any of these other guys…maybe…” and just to tease Sebastian a little bit more, and to give everyone a good laugh Dominique says, “Why do you think I have Sebastian pay me in cash?”

Overhearing Dominique’s comments from the the next seating area where I’m relaxing and taking in the scene along with a cocktail, I decide to do my best imitation of Godfrey…so I stroll up to the handsome threesome and ask, “Not to sound like Seinfeld, but what’s the deal with you and cash?”

Dominique answers, “I don’t actually care if it’s cash, a check, physical gifts or any other form of perks…because gifts (in any format) aren’t taxable. The problem with gifts other than cash is wives generally have access to the checking account which can (understandably) lead to questions. I can always be expensed as a ‘business consultant’…but that would be illegal and could get both of us in trouble with the IRS…So, obviously, the smartest move is to avoid any potential issues with either the IRS or the wife—and just grab some cash out of the safe or safety deposit box without the wife noticing.”

Not to be outdone by the older men, J.R. leaps off the high dive and makes an elaborate dive into the deep end of the pool…The spectacle and splash temporarily distract everyone—especially Dominique. She doesn’t use the high dive herself, but she does enjoy the view, (especially when J.R.’s in the house.) He’s working hard to impress her…After coming up for air, J.R. climbs out of the pool and makes his way across the pool deck to ask, “I’m assuming you take Bitcoin?”

“Of course. Ceci will be up in a minute with an address for you…In the meantime, care to share with the crowd what your bid is?”

“Not a chance…I know you don’t generally like surprises—but this is one you’ll appreciate.”

“Please come over here and whisper it in my ear.”

J.R. does as he’s told.

“Is that in BTC or BCH?”

“Bitcoin Cash, of course.”

Dominique responds by squealing in delight, “Oooh, you are a good boy.” She comments looking at J.R. as she pats her favorite German Shepherd on the head. “Thank you darling, you’re definitely in the race.”

“In the race?” J.R. looks at her askance and questions her math, “Are you sure I’m not in the lead.”

“You might be…or you might be a long shot. Either way, I’m not the one gambling.” Dominique winks, then turns and waves at Ceci who’s just walked out of the library. Before J.R. can react, Dominique runs and dives into the deep end then swims back the length of the pool to meet Ceci at the other end—the German Shepherds trailing Dominique in a wake of barking excitement. Dominique pulls herself up out of the pool without the aid of steps, using only her arm muscles. She quickly strips naked and wraps herself in the towel Ceci hands her. Now dry and semi-clothed, Dominique takes the phone from Ceci’s other hand and they make their way back to where J.R. is still standing (mouth agape)…I chuckle at the spectacle of the German Shepherds following Dominique around the pool the entire time like they’re protecting some rap guy’s girlfriend.

J.R. fishes around in the gym bag he always carries with him for what seems like ages―long enough for Dominique to ask the question, “Does anyone else have a bid in Bitcoin? No…Ether? No. Any one? Bueller? Bueller? Godfrey? Just kidding—Godfrey doesn’t do Bitcoin anymore.” Then as an aside to Archer…”You do still owe me a check, don’t forget.”

“I’ll go get my checkbook now.” Archer politely responds and walks away just as J.R. (finally) finds his phone and fiddles with it a few minutes (I don’t understand anything about the blockchain, so I’m not the right person to describe how this transfer works) but from my perspective, all he does is take a picture of her phone and Dominique looks at the screen and confirms the transfer with a terse, “Got It!” Before handing the phone back to Ceci who exits the same way she entered.

Watching J.R., I couldn’t help but think…Little did he know—that the only reason he’d succeeded at such a young age was because of Dominique—if she hadn’t forced him to transmute his sex drive at such a young age, he might never have succeeded. J.R. could’ve easily gotten trapped into the middle class hell of marriage, children and suburbia. Archer knew what was going on because although he’d been lucky enough to have been born into a different situation—making money was never not an option for him. This is one of the truths not only of why wealth is perpetuated from generation to generation—but also, why it’s often forgotten by the third generation because the rules and constructs that created the original wealth are dismissed when there aren’t any first party witnesses to the creation of wealth and abundance. I knew the truth, and I’m slightly resentful of J.R. (not just because I have to share Dominique with him) but because it took him less than a decade to create the same amount of wealth it took me almost 40 years to create…(Even with Dominique’s help.) J.R.’s original life goals were simple middle class married with children aspirations—she broke him, and the mold—creating from scratch a financial midas, driven by desire and desperation.

Archer and Godfrey exit the house together. (I’m assuming Archer went and woke up the old man.) As they approach Dominique—Godfrey shouts out, “Who wants to play would you rather?” Archer doesn’t answer…but simply stretches out his hand and gives her a check.

Dominique smiles and tucks the check in the pocket of her pants, neatly folded beside her naked body. As usual, she’s lounging naked, poolside…Am I so jaded that I consider that normal behavior?…I’ve spent so many years with Dominique that it’s hard to tell what normal is anymore…I rarely even wonder if it matters.

J.R. counters, “F.M.K. is more fun.”

“Apparently, I’ve been spending too much time in Europe. What the hell is F.M.K.?” Sebastian asks, ”I’m assuming it’s some American internet meme I’ve missed.”

“It’s Fuck, Marry or Kill.” J.R. replies and comments, “Speaking of spending too much time in Europe, your name came up in discussion earlier.”

“Oh…”Sebastian say…cautiously…his face suddenly draining of color and his voice trails off as he asks, “What about…”

J.R. responds, (apparently oblivious) to Sebastian’s obvious (and unexpected) discomfort, “Dominique said you’d know about keeping your mistress and your wife on separate continents.”

“Well…” Sebastian says after a long sigh of relief. “It is easier…But you still have to be careful…Why do you ask? Are you planning on getting married anytime soon?”

“It’s a thought.” J.R. replies wistfully.

Now I see what the problem with this party of hers is, no two people can have the same purpose—all five men cannot possess her—not in the way she owns each of us. She uses individually designed animal traps—we’re live animals unable to escape unless she releases us, and unwilling to leave if she does—we’re each suffering from a sort of sexual Stockholm Syndrome. We’re trained animals—her pets, perfectly behaved but a pack without a leader when she’s not in the room—(hence the squabbles between her men forever vying for her fleeting attention)…She does have a short attention span, or more accurately, she needs all five men to complete her. Each has a purpose. She needs to use and abuse and love each according to her desires and their needs. There’s only so much one or two men can do for a woman…But four or five, now we’re talking satisfaction for Dominique.

Feeling out the competition, J.R. asks Dominique, “Since no one is actually interested in playing games beside you…Let me ask you (after making the obvious sports reference)…What did you do for Sebastian as ‘The American Girl’?”

Happy to play along, Dominique replies, “Oh, I got to do fun things like fly to Vegas, pick-up a package, fly back to Chicago and drop it off at a client’s house in Barrington. Which, now that I’m explaining it—sounds sorta sketch—especially given that my paychecks were drawn on a Swiss bank account.

“Yeah, no, that doesn’t sound sketch at aaaaallllll” J.R. replies with fake incredulity. “BTW, what was in the package?”

“Who knows?…I didn’t ask. You know I never ask questions I don’t necessarily want to know the answer to.”

“Is that one of Dominique’s Rules?” Godfrey asks.

“No, but it should be, I’m going to add it as number 45.”

“Was it a suitcase full of cash?” J.R. asks, apparently assuming that’s a normal thing.

“No, it was definitely smaller than a suitcase—but it could have been cash. It was Vegas after all, so god only knows. I should ask Sebastian the next time I sleep with him (I forgot to ask him about this particular incident)—but he’ll tell me, he always does…eventually.” Dominique comments, “But don’t you think the story is almost more interesting not knowing what was in the package instead of knowing that it was probably something mundane like steroids or whatever “performance enhancer” pro athletes were using at the time?”

“No wonder normal women don’t try to compete with you.” I couldn’t help but comment, “Even your pillow talk is interesting.”

“Dominique smiles at me but turns toward J.R. and says, “But if you want the real answer to your original question—mostly I just make up stories. I work with all the young athletes on creating their “brand.” Sebastian’s marketing team can’t sell an athlete to sponsors without a good story—all good deals need a lot of good press. I love shaping young minds into success. You have to train them to want to mold themselves into the brands they want to represent—to become a celebrity as an endorser.”

“Is that ethical?” J.R. asks…For some odd reason, suddenly concerned about the morality of and ethics in marketing.

“A little spin never hurt anyone—I’ve seen your Facebook page—don’t tell me your life is only always awesome. I mean you do look that good all the time but even good looking guys have bad hair days occasionally.”

“Speaking of bad hair days…are you going to get in on this action Godfrey or are you expecting another freebie?”

Godfrey gets so obviously nervous about her calling him on his lack of participation in the auction that Archer notices and comments, “I can’t believe you’re not interested in playing this game…It’s odd for you, Godfrey—usually you’re the first to jump into any type of kinky pond or play date.”

Godfrey (weakly) claims that, “I’m simply getting too old to play these types of elaborate games.”

I had to comment, “That seems a bit incongruent, given that you gave me a blow job on the pool deck before breakfast.” I suppose I should have seen it coming, but that comment set J.R. off on a drunken rampage—he was “not amused” to put it mildly. Although Dominique trained him as a submissive, he never really did learn how to “share well” with others. From his perspective, I suppose it’s gross enough to think that she slept with someone who’s old enough to be his grandpa but for me to (presumably) hop in bed with the old man, that was just a little bit too much to take. As the youngin’, J.R. was decidedly at a disadvantage, and he knew and resented that fact. The other men were her mentors. She was his. The inequality was palpable…he took another drink of whiskey, and gave up caring for the moment. It was obvious she was going to be with whoever she wanted—so what was the point. No one could ever own her. Even if she had promised her body, she would never relinquish her love.

Godfrey simply replies, “My bid is in my suite.”

She kids him yet again, “Are you sure you don’t want to do your bid in Bitcoin?”

“Certainly not!” He replies, emphatically this time.

Dominique explains, “Godfrey’s very skeptical of cryptocurrencies because he was screwed in the early days of Bitcoin when he held his funds at MtGox and lost them. He’s once burned, twice shy. In my humble opinion you should always use a wallet instead of letting someone else hold your money…I mean seriously, if you can’t remember ten words, you shouldn’t be trusted with money.” Referring to the typical method of recovering a lost wallet of cryptocurrency. (Or so I’m told, we’ve already established that I’m not a blockchain expert.) “What you missed Godfrey…was the entire point (well, one of the major ones anyway) the point of using blockchain technology is to mathematically enforce self-discipline and accountability. You can trust the math, which (unlike statistics) is purely rational—by definition. Cryptocurrencies remove the need to transfer money through a third party, so why would you reverse the major leap forward in humanity and revert to using a financial institution to hold your money?”

“I don’t have an answer.”

“Speaking of answers…what about you Milton?”

“What about me?” I reply, “I know you already know that the wire transfer has arrived.—You can pretend that you didn’t check the balance on your phone when Ceci brought it over for J.R.’s transfer…but I know, after working for you all these years, that you would’ve commented at the time and teased me relentlessly as you have Godfrey until I did what you wanted.” She doesn’t need our money, but it still makes her wet—although it takes pure power to makes her come (and cum). Once in the bedroom, any of her extraordinary powerful men can reduce her to speechlessness within seconds…or maybe just because it’s unnecessary to speak once his cock is in her tiny, perfectly shaped mouth.

Speaking of perfectly shaped, seemingly out of nowhere, Archer asks Dominique, “What’s that cut on your head? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I just got hit with a gun”

“What!?”

“Yeah, I have the best bruises, and the coolest stories to go with them. I was doing a promo photo shoot for the business and I thought it would be fun to be the hot chick in heels and hot pants with a gun with a silencer…and then I decided to shoot some video for the Youtube channel…and that’s when things got a little out of control…next time I’m not using a real gun.”

“Oh Jeez, why do you play with guns?”

“Because they’re fun—obviously.”

“But why?”

“You sound like all my liberal friends, (yes, I do have liberal friends) who have never shot a gun before with all the eye-rolling and head-shaking—I know what you think about violence—I don’t care—I’m still badass.”

Picturing her gun in hand made me realize, she’s a commodity—an addictive one like alcohol, or nicotine, or cocaine—once her mark is marked territory and allowed to see her naked, and do whatever she wants with her—he’s hooked—unable to resist the urge to keep cumming and coming back. Each time meeting her demands—and following her orders—when she says jump—we jump—the extraordinary men of the world—like all good addicts we’re chasing the elusive first high—the time when you thought “she might be mine, I might actually really have her to myself.” We’d all thought at one time that we’d finally seduced her—only to wake up in the morning and experience her leaving the hotel room directly after breakfast—as if nothing ever happened between you—simply friends sharing a secret and a bed for the night. Left unsure whether or not you’d been dreaming.

It’s the end of the season, (which would explain why I’m feeling like reminiscing so much this evening)…a cold breeze and fog has started to roll in so Dominique suggests that we move the party inside. “It’s getting close to the time for me to announce who the winner of tonight’s auction is…I’m so tired (you boys really have worn me out)…I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.” We laugh at the thought that Dominique’s tired. (It’s obviously a joke.) Nevertheless, we change into casual attire (except for J.R. who simply changes poolside into a dry swimsuit) and reassemble, all in one line on the stools by the indoor pool bar.

After redoing her hair and makeup, Dominique strolls in from the spa wearing her signature dress—black, sleeveless, with a mock polo neckline, a mini-skirt hemline and with a (usually) gold skinny belt…not that she needed help accentuating her perfectly formed hips, breasts and tiny waist. (In case you were curious, this is the exact description I use when shopping for her.)

Suddenly the music stops and all the lights except for one dim…creating a spotlight where only Dominique can be seen. I have to say, although Dominique doesn’t do drama, she can put together quite the show when she wants to. As is her fashion, she waits long enough to ensure the entire room is paying attention to her, and only her and announces, “According to my tabulations, Sebastian is in the lead and therefore gets to spend tonight with me.”

“How is that possible?” Archer cries, (apparently Dominique’s discovered his weak spot.) How is it possible—HIS…” gesturing in Sebastian’s direction, “suitcase full of cash is still the high bid? I wrote you a check for twenty million…just for tonight.”

“Yes…Your math is correct, but your assumptions are wrong. You had a freebie yesterday. I subtracted those costs from the total and rolled over the balance to the next auction block.—But don’t worry, you’re currently in the lead to have me for eternity.”

At that, Godfrey exclaims, “I’m out. This pot’s too hot for me.” and throws down his empty glass—it shatters…he leaves the room…unfortunately in search of another bottle of gin. We don’t know it at the time, but Godfrey loses it because he’d lost most of his money (but, fortunately not much of his client’s) and now with all the competition, there’s no chance of winning her back.

“I trained you and now you lock me out of the competition—you bitch!” Apparently, he’s finally reached the tipping point after years of descent into alcoholism and neglecting his health, he even starts to lose his mind and in (what I can only assume is desperation) recently became a degenerate gambler…A proposition he knows is a loser (the house ALWAYS wins) it’s a fact! With a final exclamation Godfrey heads to his own suite on the third floor, “I see what you’re doing. You’re manipulating all of us.”

“So? Any good money strategy is like a well designed network—with multiple redundancies built in and no single point of failure.”

“Plus, Sebastian’s still very upset about the dissolution of his marriage.” Oh yeah, poor, poor, Sebastian needs more attention…But before anyone else can have a meltdown Dominique (wisely) grabs Sebastian and drags him up to his suite.

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