The night was like most. Mist hanging over the city, the scent of the ocean clung to her like a fine perfume. She was there for work, not pleasure. New Orleans was a city that held a million sins, but tonight, it had the inhabitants of the club praying for miracles.
To be invited into the game, your income was in the seven-figure range, and you had to be willing to toss fifty grand in the trash. That was the buy-in, and it was non-refundable. Not that anyone would ask for it back. That was pocket change for most of these men. A few of them on the right side of the law, but most bought and sold flesh for pennies on the dollar. Trafficking was one of the biggest businesses in the United States. A percentage of these men so dirty that their hands were forever stained with the blood of the innocent.
The tall blond stood in the middle of the luxurious hotel room, looking around at what most would never see. For her, this was common. She was a five grand a night date. The decor would remind one of an old whore house. Red velvet, gold, and the Chandler in the middle of the room cascade with crystals hand-blown, and each unique, though only a trained eye would notice that. She had been in enough to know the real from the fake. This was a place that only the elite would see.
“Hello, Gypsy rose here.”
Her voice clear, confident, and to the point. She knew who it was, but announced her name none the less. Who was the voice on the other end of the phone?
Rath Silverstone is a man who can buy and sell the world around him. At 51, he had seen more than most double his age. Net worth 908 million dollars, he was on the list of those who would reach the elite billionaire status by the end of the year. Not that he cared. His shown net worth was only a fraction of his wealth. Overseas banks and offshore accounts were not figured into the Forbes list of 2019 billionaires. Those were a shadow that he would not allow to be cast to his loyal followers.
Augustine Silverstone, age 30 married this man for one reason. She was going to be a trophy, and he is her financial backer. Miss America at the age of 18, she knew how to twist him round her finger with not only beauty but unscrupulous ways. She became pregnant and he married her in a very hushed ceremony. It wasn’t a horrible thing. She would prove to be an asset to his company, and the child, a son he had always desired. His namesake. Rath Edward Silverstone, age 11 spent his days at a prestigious English boarding school learning to be as cutthroat as his father. He would one day take over the company whether he wanted to, or not.
“Gypsy, there is a dress for you laid out on the bed. My assistant picked it out. Shoes and undergarments will be hung in the closet, you will find them all in your size. If there is an issue, you will call Alice within the next 11 minutes and she will fix it.”
His voice was to the point. You would compare this man to a bowl of ice. He was frozen in a time where women were seen, not heard, and they were only put on the earth to please a man. Though she did not agree, she complied. He doubled her fees each time they met. It was never sexual unless you consider the mind being penetrated a sex act. She did not.
Walking immediately to the spacious walk-in closet, the smell of cedar penetrated her nostrils. Aged wood adorned the walls, and in the middle, three cloth-covered hangers clung to the metal bar above. Red silk bra, matching panties on one. She checked the size right away and noted they were hers. Stockings, not the pantyhose type, but the ones that had a thick lace band at the thigh to hold them up. The last was a fur, not the fake one, but a real PETA hating fur. Usually, she would never wear such an item, but he loved a woman who dripped class. She would by the start of the evening.
“All seem perfect, even the shoes are my exact size.”
Her foot slipped in the 1000 dollar footwear, she had seen these in the past but refrained from purchasing them for herself. Why buy what can become a gift. Each item would go home with her at the end of the weekend. It was a token of his appreciation for a job well done. This was a job after all.
“The jewels are in the safe. Please take them out after we speak. As usual, those will be returned when you finish.”
She never kept his babbles. Most of them belonged to his wife, and they would be returned to her safe deposit box when the night was over. Gypsy didn’t want or need them. In fact, they were nothing she would pick for herself. Large expensive stones, and all diamonds. She preferred emeralds.
“Yes, Sir. I remember the combination from my last visit. I will keep them safe. You have my word.”
She may have his word, but there were eyes on her everywhere. Her room covered in hidden cameras, he was viewing her as they spoke. She knew that piece of information and it didn’t bother her. He was a voyeur and she was the one he enjoyed watching.
“I will send a man to the room in 1 hour. You know how I feel about time. Promptness is important. Please note that there is a tube of red lipstick on the vanity. It’s that Guerlain brand that you asked me for. I am sure you will find it be the shade you like. See you soon.”
She almost choked but composed herself. Guerlain kiss kiss gold and diamond was 62 thousand dollars a tube, and it contained fragments of real diamonds and laced in the finest gold that money can buy. This was worth the entire trip to the Big Easy.
Fast forward 1 hour, the knock on the door stopped the young blond in her tracks. It was his man, and she knew him well. He had been with her client for many years, and the silence was a part of the language he spoke. He was trusted to keep this part of his Boss’s life quiet.
“Jordan, I have my coat right there. Can you help me with it?”
Of course, he could, and did. The tall male placed the white fur around her shoulders, smiling when he did. He was one that she actually liked. Many nights after she was done, they would share a burger and a beer before driving her to the airport. He never took advantage of her youth, in fact, he thought of her as a daughter.
One last look in the mirror, the 5 ft 10 blond couldn’t help but smile. The Versace dress clung to her body like a second skin. No one would know the underclothing was almost as expensive and the garment she wore. Her erogenous zones dabbed with perfume, the diamonds around her neck were beacons of wealth. Pushing the diamond bag under her arm, the only contents of the lipstick that he purchased her. She was as proud of that as a new mother was her child.
Three moments later both stood silently in the small elevator car, her eyes closing for a moment. She needed to be in the right mindset for the evening. Confidence was key when it came to the night. As the car came to a stop, they both exited, her three steps in front of him, she would make the entrance, but all knew that when she did, the man behind her meant do not attempt to touch.
Who is she?
Tonight Gypsy Rose Kennedy is lady luck. She will sit beside her client, her hand on his shoulder, and watch him take the prize. Not a word will be spoken from her unless he advises her too, and the only thing in her hand will be a glass of champagne. She will sip slowly to avoid becoming drunk, and after 15 moments passes she will have the crystal flute replaced with a new one. Each time it will remain almost full. The only reason she has it is for aesthetics.
Her blood-red lips pull together in a bow, exhaling as he holds his hands to her mouth. This man, her client, knows that when he needs someone to be at his side, it will be her. Never has he touched her in the physical sense, but that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t viewed the cameras in her room. He is human after all.
You may ask yourself why the wife doesn’t attend. She is a trophy and they remain on the shelf. She knew that when she married him, and when she bore his heir. The wife and child are his life, but every once in a while, and man needs to feel wanted. This girl, Lady Luck, there is no doubt that she is the one to give him the ego thrusting that he needs.