In Paradise (7 page)

"This is anti-climactic.
" Boyd huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Not now Boyd." Jake's tone said he meant business.
"I need to ask you to marry me now because I have a feeling, when we finally get you to part with all the artwork you've deemed inappropriate, you might begin to wonder if I married you for your money."

"You call that a proposal?"

"I said, not now, Boyd!"

Jake got down on one knee. "Will you honor me, will you
make me whole, and will you spend the rest of your life with me as my wife? Please?"

Di
never dreamed she'd hear these words from Jake. She wanted to hear them with all her heart. "I love you. I have from the first time we made love on the plane. Yes, I'll marry you."

"First time on the plane?" her mother squeaked. "Who are
you and what have you done with my daughter?"

*
* * * *

Two weeks later

Di
nervously twisted her engagement ring as she watched for the limo. Jake had called to say her house was in sight. When the sleek black car pulled in front of the house, she started to sweat.

As she watched him coil out of the back without waiting on
the driver, her doubts evaporated.
It will be okay.

He took the front walk nearly at a run.

It will be okay.

"He's here," she heard from behind her.

"Boyd?" Jake walked onto the front porch and frowned.

Di
winced. She'd wanted to prepare Jake for Boyd's presence.

"I'm staying with
Di's mom until everything is catalogued and tagged. After you two are married, my work just begins."

"Catalogued?"

"Maybe I should've warned you first." Di swung the door wide and stepped to the side for Jake to see.

"Holy
shit!"

"Isn't this a collector's dream come true?" Boyd asked
Jake.

Jake's eyes were as wide as the breast on the painting
next to his head. "This looks...I'm not certain I can put it into words."

"My ancestors have all been interested in the human
form."

"In every medium? And this much of it?"

Di didn't want to think about how this must look to Jake. This house and this horror of an art collection were the bane of her existence. And he'd only scratched the surface, so to speak, with the view from the foyer. Some of the upstairs rooms in the drafty, old house were filled to capacity with erotic artwork.

She'd done her best to keep it confined, but
her mother had insisted on dragging it back out again.

Jake moaned. "I'm finally beginning to understand how
hard it must've been for you."

"Bringing a friend home was out of question. Inviting
anyone inside gave me hives."

"We'll let Boyd"—Jake stopped speaking to laugh—"take
care of this." Jake laughed louder.

Boyd huffed. "Laugh if you will. I'm in paradise here."

"I wouldn't wish this on an enemy." Jake laughed until he was holding his side.” And you don’t have a clue what it means to be
in
Paradise.”

"You won't be laughing when your new wife has to look
after my house for me while I'm here caring for her mother, neighbor."

Jake laughed louder.

Di watched the exchange with trepidation. It almost seemed as the two of them had resolved their differences. "If it wasn't for Boyd, I'd never have met you."

Jake pulled her into his arms. "I always knew Boyd would
make up for breaking up my first engagement."

"That's what your feud has really been about?"

Boyd threw his arm around Jake. "I knew that woman wasn't right for Jake, even if he couldn't see it."

"But did you have to sleep with her?"

"I figured you'd be pissed for a long time so I should get something out of it. I just didn't think you'd stay pissed. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to find Di for you?"

"Excuse me?"

Di turned back toward the doorway to see the elderly lady from the plane. What?

"Is Rachel ready to go to lunch?" the woman asked. "I
nearly cancelled. The dog got hold of my teeth again last night."

"Who are you? Are you stalking us?"

"Goodness, no. I went to school with your mother. I'm one of the few people she's confided in over the years. When she wanted me watch out after you, how could I refuse?"

"You went to Hawaii to watch out for me?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack when I realized you were boinking a famous author on the plane. You aren't at all what I expected."

"Boinking?"
What had happened to her boring life? Now Di lived from minute to minute wondering what would happen next.

Just then Jake swept her into his arms. "Tell me I only
have to carry you one flight of stairs to your room."

"That's not very gallant," Boyd complained.

"Not now, Boyd," Jake warned.

Di
sighed. "Tell Mom I'm upstairs boinking if she needs me."

The End

Also Available:

The Virginia Model-Logues

by
Brit Blaise

Chapter One

November 10th

Dear Diary,

I’ve decided to do whatever is necessary to survive. I have an interview for a modeling job today, broken leg and all. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. My previous life of glamour and luxury as a top model is now just a distant and bittersweet memory. If this is my Karma, I can’t figure out what I’ve done to deserve it. One can only imagine what I’ll have to do to get a gig as a vagina model. This isn’t going to end well for me…

* * * * *

“Please have a seat.” The cute little receptionist with a trendy Goth-Emo haircut gave a surfer hang-loose, wagging gesture. Her neon-purple bejeweled thumb and pinkie rings matched the streaks in her hair. “We’re running a bit behind.
”

Gina touched her fingertips to her lopsided wig, straightening i
t with a quick tug before darting a furtive glance around the crowded waiting room. There was a single empty chair in the corner.

She had to make a decision fast. Stay…and eat tomorrow, or leave, only to have her prestigious family finally discover the dreadful truth about her financial state
. She was a dismal failure, a loser with a capital L.

She’d rather become a bag lady than go to her well-to-do family and tell them she was penniless. She’d been to enough cattle calls to ace this job. Right?

Gina pivoted on her crutches and headed for the chair before she lost her nerve. How bad could it be? She’d walked the runway for the most prestigious fashion houses in NYC, Paris, Milan and London.

Back stage realities had long ago stripped away any modesty she’d once had. How hard would it be to lie on a
table and spread her legs? Five thousand dollars would come in handy.

Hell, three dollars would come in handy.

Gina had her subway card with six trips left on it. If she didn’t get this job, she’d be walking soon. That would be the demise of her last pair of designer heels, the only pair of expensive shoes she hadn’t sold or hocked.

Gina sat down
and leaned her crutches against the wall behind her.

“That’s some cast you got there. Are you here for the consumer products job too
?” 

Gina glanced down at
the monstrous cast running from her foot to mid-thigh and then thought about what the woman sitting next to her had said. “Did you say consumer products?” Gina perked up. She’d been afraid the five or so women sitting in the small room were vying for the same job as she.

The two men were a complete mystery. Gina didn’t want to th
ink about what they were doing here. One stared at her blatantly, while the other picked his teeth with a match book cover and read a magazine.

“You haven’t tried a vibrator until you
try the Ball-Peenis Hammer 2000.” The woman’s voice rose above the sound of head-banging, glam rock filtering from the sound system. “Now they’re coming out with a new and improved model. I can’t wait to give it a try.”

Gina held her hand in front of her mouth in case anyone could read lips. “And you get paid for—um, using this vibrator? How much do they pay?”

“So you aren’t here for the Ball-Peenis Hammer 3000 trials? The 2000 is to die for. One can only imagine the new and improved model. It’s not so much about getting
paid
as getting
off
. They give a pittance to write a review…it’s the free vibrator I’m after.”

“I have an interview to model.
”

The curious woman stared pointedly at her cast again.

“Model body parts,” Gina clarified and held her breath, waiting for questions she didn’t want to answer.

“How do you get a job like that? Haven’t I seen you before?”

Not likely. Gina had worn an ugly blonde wig and dark glasses large enough to cover half her face. No way could anyone recognize her. “Have we met? I don’t remember.” Gina reached for a magazine on the table in front of them hoping the woman could take a hint.

Narrowing her expressive eyes, the woman leaned closer to examine Gina. “I don’t think so, but something about you looks familiar. Are you famous?”

“Ms. Peterson?” The receptionist called twice before Gina recognized the fake name she’d used for the appointment.

Saved from further niceties, Gina pulled herself to her feet, hopping on one foot while she positioned the pesky crutches.

“Break a leg, Ms.
Peterson
.” The woman giggled and winked.

“Thanks.” Gina
shuddered. Had she been recognized? It had to be her damned lips. What good were they anyway? It wasn’t like cosmetic companies were breaking down her doors to smear their lipstick on her. Nope. It was the younger women getting those jobs. And if her lips were so damned memorable, why hadn’t they melted Mr. Right’s cold heart.

Her broken leg had ruined her life! She went
from making four thousand bucks on a mediocre week to bupkis. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. Less than nothing.

And since she’d spent
every penny she made, she had no savings, no insurance or any benefits to fall back on during the hard times.

“Right this way
.” The receptionist motioned to a closed door. “Mr. Thompson is waiting for you.”

Gina struggled while
negotiating the narrow doorway of Mr. Thompson’s cramped office, slamming a crutch against the wall. She was about to apologize until she looked around at Mr. Thompson’s very distasteful decor. Somehow he’d managed to take faux-fur to a whole new level of disgusting.

The man who held her financial future in the palm of his hand
gave her a warm smile. “Virginia Newman, I’m glad you came. When the receptionist said the name Peterson, I wasn’t sure it was you. You’re more beautiful than I remembered. With that dark hair and pale skin, you are striking.” He stared at her hair and frowned. “I saw you once at a fashion show my ex dragged me to in Milan. That
is
a wig,
isn’t
it?”

Please don’t let him be hitting on me! Gina didn’t know what to say, but this welcome from him answered a lot of her questions.
She’d wondered why her agent had been approached by Ray Thompson Erotic Enterprises.

Then again, who in New York City didn’t know Virginia Newman? Until she’d broken her leg, she’d made the society pages on a weekly basis.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” he continued to gush. “You’re our first choice for this job. You have the perfect tush.”

“Tush?” Gina breathed a sigh of relief and wondered about sitting in the faux tiger-fur chair
with the phallic-shaped back. “You want to give me five grand for a replica of my tush?”

“Well, not exactly. We need your pussy and your tush. The whole enchilada. That’s how it’s done.”

Enchilada?
Gina decided against the chair and took a step back.

Mr. Thompson extended his hand toward her and stood. “Please, wait. We’ll pay you five thousand for the mold. And another five when the product hits the shelves.”

“Ten thousand?” If she was careful—and stayed out of the shoe stores—she could make the money last until her cast came off. Then there was the little matter of the physical therapist demanding cash up front. “What exactly do I have to do?”

“I won’t lie to you. The actual process is a little longer when we need both. But it should take no more than one day of your time. And if we’re lucky, we’ll get it right the first time. You could be in and out of our factory in a couple of hours.” He looked at his watch. “What do you say? Is nine tomorrow morning good for you?”