Ivy BrookeFirst denial, then anger.
Brooke couldn’t believe Will was cheating on her. She ignored the signs, until she couldn’t. He had started bringing the whore to her house - to their bed - and she was taunting Brooke. The hair left under her pillow. The scent left on her towel. The panties left in the drawer, mixed in with hers.
Oh, the anger. White hot. But Brooke said nothing. Not yet. She pushed back in other ways. Maybe they had cooled, after five years of marriage. She turned the burner on high. She started sleeping in the nude again, and awoke him every morning by spooning against him, moaning softly when he slid into her from behind. If she was home before him, she met him at the door and sucked him in the foyer. It worked, for a while. Then when he came home one night, Brooke tasted her on his cock.
After anger is cold fury, and revenge.
She found a place. One thing about living in Las Vegas - Sin City had a venue for almost anything, if you looked beyond the slot machines. The luxury apartment at the top of the Cactus Flower Resort. She went in person, and met with the owner. He couldn’t believe the luck, what this beauty was bringing him. He gave her the tour. Two bedrooms. A large living room with an outside terrace. Full kitchen, a small office, all beautifully furnished. Cameras in every room.
She found the other woman. Her name was Ivy. She worked in the same business as Will, knew him from local industry meetings. “We got together for lunch - like this,” she said to Brooke, with an arch smile, at the cafe where they’d agreed to meet. “Do you want me to say it was innocent at first? It wasn’t.” She tilted her head toward the motel across the parking lot. “The room door barely closed before we fucked up against the wall.” She sipped her ice water and smiled. “It was so hot - but I like fucking him in your bed better.”
Brooke controlled her face. That alone needled the bitch. “Ivy,” she said. “I have a . . . proposition for you.” Under the table, she jabbed her heel into the cxnt’s instep. “Maybe challenge is a better word for it,” Brooke said.
She made sure Will would be there. His friend Kyle was the tool for that. She had to let him in on it. He’d always wanted to fuck her.
The advertising was on the internet, but not visible to search engines. The Cactus Flower gave the url out to the concierges who knew what certain out-of-town whales liked.
The usual website promised Apartment Wrestling, and that was the usual fare, typically two strippers making extra money. But now, in two weeks, it promised a special grudge match. They billed it as Negligee Night: Wife vs Mistress. No rules. No limits. Only fifty spectators allowed in. Their photos were there, no faces.
In one of the bedrooms, Brooke looked one final time at the website, on her phone. The voices of the men were loud, laughing, and talking excitedly. She imagined she heard Will; she pictured once again his face. There was a knock on her door and, she knew, on Ivy’s simultaneously.
She opened the door, the rush of adrenaline making her a little light-headed. The owner was there, between them, as Ivy emerged from the other bedroom. The hallway was short.
“Gentleman!” the owner called. “I give you the Wife and the Mistress - Brooke and Ivy!” He held each of them lightly by the wrist, one on either side, their hands raised shoulder high. There were fifty men, all looking at them.
Will’s face was even more than she’d imagined.
The owner dropped their wrists, and stepped back.