Fashion Kills

Fashion Kills 1

Chapter 1

POV OF Diamonte ROSE

“Happiness isn't about the cost. It's not about the money. It's not about the retail. It's something deeper. It's about the look. It's about the visual. It's about that woman who buys your gown and walks into a room. When she walks into the room people turn. They stare. They know her without having met her a day in their lives. They respect her without her having to earn it. They see her struggle but they also see she's triumphed. She holds her head high because she is seen. It's about the look. It's about the eyes. For a moment she is confident and no one holds a candle to her. Nothing matters including her husband cheating at home or the job she's about to lose. Perception is the reason she holds her head up. The look is the reason she smiles.”

I smile at that moment to the crowd after my speech.

The ass-kissers, losers, haters, wannabes and has-beens smile back at me. Tiyana Smallchild is the Editor of Nine. I can't get past her bad nose job as she leans into me. Nine is the leading fashion publication in Los Angeles. Tiyana leans forward, kisses me on my right cheek and on my left as she hands me my award.

A trophy. “Designer of the year.”

I wave. I smile.

And on my way out I throw that shit in the fucking trash.

“What's next on the schedule?” I ask my assistant Texas.

Texas in blonde, thin, a former model who has grown a little too old to walk the runways and has no other connections outside of the fashion industry. Of course her name isn't Texas. Who knows what her name is. Who cares? She is another face in a sea of faceless girls desperate for my approval. Desperate to be next to greatness.

“You have a dinner with Antonio Gurcio to go over the photography shots.”

“Cancel. He'll figure it out on his own. Next.”

“Well Stacks's reached out in an attempt to get a hold of you. They are hoping to feature Bautista & Rose accessories in the Broadway location.”

I stop her.

“Did you just say...Stack's? As in the department store?”

She swallows, “Yes sir. Your husband said it was a good idea. He said we needed to worry about building the Bautista & Rose brand and monetizing...”

I stop in my tracks. My entourage stops with me. You can hear a pin drop as I stare Texas down. Sweat is trickling down her forehead. She's scared. She has every right to be. How dare she assume that B&R was fit for a fucking regular 'affordable' department store. It wasn't about the money but we my brand was top end. My brand was everything. Texas knows she's made a mistake. I can hear her breathing heavy.

“Come again?” I ask her.

My eyes squint. I'm staring into the soul of this 90 pound model. I could rip her apart. Her bottom lip quivers. She looks around at the other girls hoping someone will jump to her assistance. They all want her job as the top assistant. She should know better. They stare at her blankly.

Like an deer caught in headlights she stands her ground, “It may...um...it...may be a good idea. You know sales of Bautista & Rose haven't been what they used to be...”

Someone gasps. Who does it doesn't matter.

This bitch has committed a cardinal sin.

“Give me your Ipad?”

Her had shivers as she hands it over.

I move over to the girl beside her. I've seen her face around often. I never had the chance to get to know who she was. Who cared who she was---until now? Now she was somebody. Now I was going to give her what all these girls wanted. A breath of life.

“You---who are you?”

“My name is---”

“I don't give a shit about what your name is. Where are you from?”

“Iowa, Mr. Rose.”

She's nervous, I can tell but she is answering quickly. She isn't going to let this chance pass her by. The other girls look at her with a sense of jealousy. Envy. Maybe even hatred.

“Where?” I ask.

She is sharp and definitely quicker than Texas, “Iowa is a midwestern state. The capital is Des Moines...”

I can feel a biography coming on. I put my hand up and immediately she stops talking. Without waiting another second I hand her the ipad, “You might as well be from Neverland. Matter of fact I'm going to call you Neverland from on. Neverland, do you know what this is?”

She's staring at the IPAD. It might as well be the last bible.

“Yes Mr. Rose. I know what it is.”

I hand it to her, “Good. Take it. From now on you're the main assistant. What do I have booked this evening Neverland.”

Neverland goes into the IPAD and frantically searches. A confident smile etches over her face, “You're free sir.”

“Great. Have the car pull around. I'm heading back to the B&R building.”

“Yes sir.”

As she leaves I see Texas frantically coming forward. She looks like she is on struggling with what just happened. She'd been fired before if she'd been in the fashion world before. Fashion wasn't a game for pussies. This shit was serious. She might as well have been in the middle of an ISIS warzone. It always shocks me when they have these shows of desperation after the fact.

“Sir, please,” Texas responds, “I've waited so long for a shot to work at B&R. This is my dream. Sir. This means everything to me. Please give me another chance.This is my life, Mr. Rose. ”

I raise an eyebrow and put on my Bautista & Rose custom frames that have real gold speckles dusting each lense, “Then why are you still alive, dear?”

Fashion kills.

==============================

My name is Diamonte Rose. My last name is on the building I'm pulling up to in case anyone forgets. I started Bautista and Rose when I met my second husband. Alexander Bautista. By chance he was a millionaire. By chance so was my first husband Davis August. I opened a boutique both times but when Davis went to jail for fraud and like the dedicated husband I was I stayed with him until the FEDS impounded all of our assets. Luckily his best friend Alexander was smitten by me. We married a few weeks after Davis was locked up and Alexander, the son of a prestigious diamond trader helped me start a new boutique Bautista & Rose. At the tender age of 18, I'd married twice and struck gold each time. This time Bautista & Rose was an instant classic. By 30, which is the age I am now...I'd joined the ranks of the top fashion houses in Italy and that was rare because I was a black, dark skinned boy with just a cute face and a dream from Miami.

Sound bad?

It's worse than you can imagine and I love every moment of it.

I know what people think when they see me. As I step out of the car it's more than clear when eyes immediately fall to the floor and interns scatter from sight.

They think, “Oh god. Diamonte Rose is here.”

And they should think that.

“Door.”

I don't feel like saying much else besides that. Luckily Neverland isn't as dumb as Texas was. She scuttles towards the door. All you hear are the clanging of high heels.

I'm interrupting a meeting. I should have known it was happening behind my back. This isn't the first time something like this has been pulled at my company. See...the company wasn't just mine. I shared it half and half with the bald dickhead across the table. Alexander Bautista. My dear husband is in his 40s now. He looks decent I guess. He's Italian and for some reason I don't think the Italians really age gracefully. He has wrinkles all over his face now. He looks even older than he is. I mean he's not some drop dead beautiful man, but I could give two fucks about what he looked like.

“Diamonte,” he says.

Alexander's not alone. The B&R designers are gathered around the table. Most of them have stopped breathing. The only one that is hauling on is Alexander's sister Alessa who is sitting next to the only one Bautista that seems to have any sex appeal, Remus. I wink at Remus when I walk in the room.

Remus puts his head down. He's beyond sexy. He's tall, tan with perfect eyebrows and a perfect nose. He has a baby face. He looks a lot like Taylor Lautner. He used to model as Alexander's muse. One night I rode Remus's dick so hard that he told me he was in love with me. Of course it was me being horny and just giving in to my temptation. Little did I know Remus would get his feelings all into it. He asked me to leave Alexander the next day. I had that effect. I guess some cakes are well baked.

Of course I turned Remus down. Since then he can barely stare me in the eyes.

“Is everyone going to stare at me or is someone going to move?” I ask.

I'm standing next to Yaris Pierce. Yaris is my husband's lover. I know. Everyone knows. They've been in love for quite some time. Yaris knows his place though. He is a designer...decent looking. He's masculine and I'm sure he's a top. Lately my husband's been turning more into a bottom and as a bottom myself there's nothing I can really do for him. So allow him to have his little fun on the side. As long as Yaris realizes his place. He does and gets up and allows me to sit down.

Remus is staring at Alessa. Alessa is staring at Alexander. They all look like they weren't expecting me to be there. Maybe they purposely put it on my calendar not to attend this meeting. Seeing that there is Vivienne Natalie who is our creative director is standing in front of the boardroom with a rack full of clothes I can see why.

This is a viewing.

“Diamonte we didn't expect you. This isn't anything you necessarily have to be a part of,” Alexander states at that moment.

Neverland hands me my Ipad. I turn it and show it to my husband, “I'm free. Carry on.”

Vivienne is nervous all of a sudden. She waits for Alexander to give her a nod before she continues on with what I think is this bitch's idea of a presentation. I never cared for Vivienne. She'd worked all the other fashion houses. She was used goods. There was nothing new and fresh about her including her vagina. The woman had no sex appeal what so ever and when she starts to pull out the clothes from the rack I'm immediately seeing it.

“Red is hot this season,” Vivienne states pulling out a wrap dress. She has one in her hand and a model walks forward wearing a version in a darker fabric, “For Fall I'm thinking we bring back more of the wrap and...”

“Absolutely not. The length is wrong. This is not DVF. I don't do wrap dresses,” I interrupt at that moment.

Vivienne swallows her spit.

“Well this next dress is a floor length gown with a beautiful collar.”

A model walks forward and turns a few times. The dress is madame. It's matronly. The long collar and sleeves makes it look like this woman just walked off the set of sunset boulevard. There is something so drab about this. The other designers have abandoned Alexander. They are looking at my expression. By how quickly Vivienne moves on to the next design I can tell she knows what I'm thinking.

I signal over Neverland, “Coffee. I'm going to need it if I'm going to get through Vivienne's boring designs.”

It's a loud whisper. I've mastered the art of a loud whisper. Low enough so that Vivienne realizes this is subtle shade but loud enough so that everyone can hear. She is stumbling over her words. You would think after years of doing this I wouldn't make such a seasoned professional nervous.

“Milk or cream?” Neverland asks overtalking Vivienne. I'm beginning to like her.

“Black,” I respond.

Like my soul.

“Vivienne's price point seems very affordable,” fat ass Alessa says, out of no where “I can appreciate some good ready to wear.”

“Appreciate ready to wear?” I ask rolling my eyes at Alessa, “This is not stretch fabric Alessa. B&R doesn't specialize in Balooga whale nor Whilly Mammoth.”

Alessa is offended as usual. She looks to her brother to help her, as usual. And as usual Alexander is choosing his battles wisely.

He ignores Alessa and looks over to Vivienne, “Carry on.”

Vivienne then brings out another dress. It's a tight simple black dress. Luckily Neverland comes back with my coffee.

I get up taking a closer look at the dresses. Vivienne is an idiot. She is smiling thinking that she's caught my interest finally with her plain dress. I watch her face closely. I want to see her expression. I am intently looking at her when I take my black coffee and toss it all over her rack of dresses.

No one says a word as I do it. Vivienne looks like she wants to say something. She looks like she wants to scream. She just might. It'd be an interesting change from her laid back demeanor.

I look at her firmly and I advice her, “Not...good...enough.”

Never good enough.

Not for me. Not for Bautista & Rose.

“May I...may I be excused?” Vivienne asks.

“Go. Cry,” I tell her.

Vivienne runs out of the room at that moment. Her models follow behind her. The other designers all of a sudden seem a little scared to show the pieces they have worked on. The only person that is brave enough to put in his two cents is Remus. Remus has been working on the B&R men's collection. It's his first collection that he's worked on solo so I'm assuming he feels like it's now or never. Maybe that's the reason he brings in these men in designer underwear.

Interesting. I must say.

He has a few shorts in there but the majority of the male models that walk into the board room with Remus's line are underwear.

“I figured we can sex up B&R a little bit,” Remus explains, “I call it the Mars collection.”

I look at the line. I have to admit as each man comes and poses I am impressed by Remus's work. He needs to work on his details but he's used sheer see through fabric. The underwear line is sexy. Some men have long underwear that go all the way to their ankles and others have sheer almost thongs come out. I smile, nod and sit in my chair. They all know what that means. Yaris even pats Remus on the back at that moment letting him know he did a good job.

I feel a little at ease until I see Alexander. Something has caught his attention.

No.

Someone.

My husband is staring a model down. The model is tall. He's sexy as all fuck. I'm talking 6'3”, 180 pounds of lean muscle. I think he is Asian. Normally I'm not attracted to Asians but he has to be the sexiest Asian man I'd ever seen in my life. He has long curly hair that is a bit coarse which makes me think he might have some black in him. He has full lips as well, the biggest sexiest lips I've ever seen. Alexander isn't the only one staring at this model. A lot of my designers have immediately taken notice. His abs are like washboard. His chest is built as though it was carved. Then his face is to die for. Slanted eyes, big lips, chiseled jaw line.

Yes...a face to die for.

I look over at Neverland and when she comes close enough I whisper, “Who is that?”

“A little known Filipino model that Remus hired. His name is Asher Aquino .”

POV OF ASHER

1.2

“I think I just shit my B&R underwear a little bit,” Sebastian says.

Sebastian is my best friend. He got me this gig. We're in the back dressing rooms of the B&R building. It's just a viewing but we are all hoping that we made some sort of impression on the higher ups at Bautista & Rose. Walking for a Bautista & Rose show could literally make a model's career and right now that's exactly what I need.

“It wasn't that bad man,” I respond.

I take off my Bautista & Rose underwear and throw em on the ground. Sebastian panicks like I've done the worst thing in the world and picks the 200 dollar underwear off the floor. Why someone would pay that much money for a pair of underwear blows my mind. I didn't care that we were in Los Angeles. I'm used to being naked around other models...especially Sebastian. I don't mind the stares I get from a couple of them. One guy looks at my dick in passing and damn near walks into a curtain causing Sebastian to break out into laughter.

“You need to put that anaconda away before you kill someone,” Sebastian replies, “You know models don't got no type of insurance.”

“I'm trying to kill Remus Bautista just a little bit with this anaconda,” I tease.

Remus is the guy who hired us. He's a sexy young looking stud and it's no secret he's sexy as hell. Sebastian looks over at me and shrugs.

“I'll go for the Shade King myself,” Sebastian says.

Sebastian is naked now too. He's sexy in his own way. He's dark skin, black with brown hair. My chest and core are a little tighter than his but he has bigger biceps and better back muscles which I'm a little jealous of. Not that I'm skinny or anything. It just pushes me to perfect my body. As sexy as Sebastian is, I look at him as a brother. The two of us grew up in Watts. We grew up in the hood. Filipino, Mexican and black gangs took over the entire area. Sebastian and I were supposed to hate one another. We were supposed to be enemies. However we became best friends, got a place out in Los Angeles with our savings and struggled to become some starving models.

“The Shade King?”

“You know...sexy ass Diamonte Rose,” he replies.

He is figure head of B&R. I'd heard things about him. It's hard not to even though I try not to keep up with the fashion industry gossip. People were terrified of Diamonte Rose. I am thinking about him now. When we walked in for the viewing Diamonte had stared us down. He was cold. He was calculating. But in the end...he smiled.

“He's not my type. A little too short,” I respond.

“Man there is something sexy as hell about someone who commands that much respect everytime he walks in a room,” Sebastian responds, “I've made him my mancrush on Instagram for every week for the past year...”

I laugh, “Yo you a fucking stalker my dude.”

“I may or may not have have been sitting in a bubble bath, drinking wine, listening to some Beyonce, stroking my dick and pretending Diamonte Rose was surfboarding me---while giving me that legendary mean mug of his.”

I pick my underwear up and throw it at Sebastian.

I have to admit. He has a point. Diamonte was decent looking. He was black, dark skin but a little lighter than Sebastian's complexion. He was just about 5'9”. It was clear he has a nose job and maybe some other work done. I was a top but I usually preferred someone a little bit more masculine. I just didn't get guys like Diamonte. He walked in a room with a goddam man bag that was almost the size of him. Definitely wasn't my type but I had to admit there was something...about him...

I've made my decision, “I'd fuck him.”

“Yo stop playing with me,” Sebastian laughs, “You can have the guy Remus. You can't fuck every sexy man in LA. You need to leave me some goddam it. I'm not trying to fall in love one day with your sloppy seconds.”

We are just talking shit. We both know there is no way in hell either one of us would get with someone like Diamonte Rose or even Remus Bautista. Still Sebastian is a lover. He's 25 and he think he's so old. I'm just 23 years old. I'm in my prime. I'm trying to fuck and mingle. Mingle and fuck. I didn't want toot my own horn but I was a sexy ass dude at that. I literally had a dude take off my shirt one time and say “the legends are all true”. I had no time to think about anything serious.

“I ain't trying to fall in love at all,” I assure Sebastian, “I hate men. But I love ass. You see my dilemma?”

“Well let's go find some man pussy tonight cause I just saw my man crush in person,” Sebastian explains before adding in, “I'm going to spend my cab money on shots and just take the ambulance home.”

“Thought you'd never ask.”

Sebastian breaks out into laughter but his laughter ends abruptly. I turn to figure out why and that's when I see a woman standing there. She's beautiful. She's gorgeous. The bisexual side of me is coming out almost immediately. It's hard as fuck to keep my dick dry in Los Angeles with all these beautiful motherfuckers around.

“Mr. Rose would like to see you.”

Sebastian looks at me. I look at Sebastian. The lady is looking at me. I turn to make sure no one is standing behind me. No one's standing there.

“Me?” I ask.

“You.”

All of a sudden my stomach turns in fucking knots.

His office is what I would expect it to be. It's huge. It's fashionably decorated. It smells like scented oils. The woman who came to get me must be his assistant by how she opens the door guides me in, asks me if I would like any water and then disappears quickly behind the door.

I walk towards him. He's looking down. He's reading something. He's not paying attention to me. I wonder if he realizes that I just walk to the room.

“Mr. Rose, it's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you---”

I extend my hand to him. Mr. Rose looks at his reading material, looks at my hand then looks back at his reading material as though not having the slightest bit of interest in it.

“Sit. Wait.”

My heart races. He's a slim guy, definitely a pretty boy. Looking at him now it's hard to imagine many other guys that are that 'pretty' that aren't into some type of drag. I'm sure he has makeup on. I've had makeup done enough for modeling shows to be able to tell. I have enough time to study his face as I'm sitting in this chair waiting for him to finish reading whatever he's reading. I don't think anyone has ever dismissed me like this in my life. I honestly don't know how to react. I contemplate getting up and just walking out of the room because I'm so offended---but then I realize, this is Diamonte Rose.

After the longest two minutes of my life Diamonte Rose picks his head up from his reading material. He looks me up and down.

“You don't look as impressive with your clothes on,” he tells me.

“Excuse me?”

The shit he just said went straight over my head. I mean I am wearing my gym clothes. Sebastian and I are about to head to the gym before our night on the town. It's not like I was expecting some one on one meeting with a fashion god.

“No matter,” he responds, “I have a job for you. It won't require you to have clothes on.”

My heart is racing. Holy shit. This is not happening! This is not happening right now! Diamonte Rose just offered me a fucking job. I had called home and got my mom hyped up over the fact that I was just doing an in office viewing with them for a couple hundred bucks. This would make my mother think I finally was about to make it.

“Sir, this is a dream of mine. You have no idea what this means to me that you want me to walk in one of your shows.”

“You think you're walking in a Bautista & Rose show?” he asks me raising an eyebrow.

He leans back in his chair. He is really interested in my answer. My face blushes with embarrassment.

“I...was...um...” I'm panicking, “No. I...don't know. Yes? No?”

“Where do they find you people?” he asks and before I have a chance to even be offended he adds in, “Listen. Luckily what I need you to do won't require much thinking at all. I need you to sleep with my husband.”

My mouth drops open.

“Excuse me.”

“I need you to fuck my husband. You do understand what that means right?”

This had to be a joke. I look around the room. I'm looking for cameras. I'm looking for Sebastian to jump out and tell me that I've been punked and he set all this shit up from the beginning. Nothing happens though. No cameras. No laughing. No Sebastian. There is only cold ass Diamonte Rose staring a hole in me wondering if I have the brain capacity to figure out what he's trying to say.

“I understand what you just said,” I assure him, “I just don't understand it. Why do you want me to fuck your husband?”

Diamonte leans his chair back. He crosses his legs. He's showing off his shoes. They probably cost more than my entire life. He's very classy and upscale. It makes me nervous to be sitting in a chair with him with basketball shorts, a white t-shirt and a gym bag in my lap.

“My husband is driving this company to the ground,” he responds to me, “He is cheapening it. Do you understand what it feels like to work for something your entire life.”

Modeling. That's all I ever wanted to do. I definitely understood it.

“Yes of course.”

“Imagine someone just around every single day attempting to snatch that from you. He's trying to turn my brand into cheap retail so he can make a better profit. I'll die first. But before I die...there are other options I'd like to try first. Including having you fuck my husband so that I can divorce his ass and threaten to take every last dime.”

“Listen,” I say getting up at that moment, “I don't know who you think I am. Ok. I'm gay. I'm a broke model...but I'm not some type of escort. I'm not some type of prostitute. I have morals. I was raised right...”

“I'll give you 10 thousand dollars.”

I sit back down.

“What positions would you like your husband fucked sir?”

It's almost a week until I arrive at the Bautista's two story condo on the hills. The condo is beautiful. The cab drops me off at Diamonte Rose's house. The place is beautiful. I have to admit. It has Diamonte written all over it. The ocean view is to die for when I walk into the living room. There are no walls in this house in the house to shield from the outside. It's all glass. I mean they are on the hills in a secluded area though. They probably don't need walls. It's night time and Diamonte Rose lets me in.

Diamonte has on a blazer with a trench coat over it. The trench coat is pleated. He has a diamond necklace that drips over his open chest. I can kind of see his chest underneath. He's skinny but there is still some sort of sex appeal in what he's wearing. Maybe it's his confidence. I don't know why I'm even looking at this guy like that when I'm about about to go fuck his his husband for godsakes.

“Is that you being sexy?” he asks me.

I look down. I'm wearing a button up shirt, a skinny tie and some acid wash jeans. This is me dressing up.

“It's not every day I am tasked with seducing a millionaire,” I tell him honestly. Most of the guys I took home were broke ass cuties from the bar who were drunk and just wanted the next cute face.

Diamonte steps forward. He ruffles my hair at that moment. He takes off my tie and throws it on the ground. He rips open my top few buttons and pulls my shit out of my pants.

“Stop trying so hard,” he replies, “Sexy should be second nature. Be yourself. Whoever the hell you are...”

I don't know whether to be offended or to be glad that I just got style tips from THE Diamonte Rose.

“Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes and puts on his shades even though it's night time.

“He's upstairs. I'm headed out for the night,” Diamonte tells me, “I told him I'll have an assistant come over and do some work. He probably thinks it's one of the girls. Keep him busy please.”

“Wait how should I approach him---”

Diamonte doesn't answer he walks out of the door.

At that moment I'm struggling. I want to turn. I want to run. I want to get the fuck out of here. I struggle just to even get to the bottom of the stairs. What the fuck did I sign myself up for. I never did anything like this. Sure...I was sexy. Sure I was confident but I wasn't some prostitute.

I turn back from the stairs and head to the kitchen. I need a glass of water or something. I open the shelves and that's when I see a bottle full of hard liquor.

Great. Even better.

After 5 shots I still haven't mustered up the energy to go upstairs. That is when I hear the voice.

“Drinking on the job?”

I turn. It's Alexander Bautista. He's standing next to me. He's a good looking older Italian man with tanned skin. Him and Diamonte are almost opposites. There is something almost kind behind his eyes as opposed to Diamonte's harsh eyes.

“Sorry I...”

“No go ahead, help yourself,” he corrects me before clicking, “You. You were the model today weren't you?”

He studies my face at that moment. He looks me up and down.

“Yeah I worked for Remus...”

Alexander smiles, “Interesting. Strange seeing you with clothes on. So you work for the Shade King now?”

“Huh?”

“My husband,” Alexander responds, “You must have heard the terms. The Shade King. The Dream Killer. The Fashion Fascist.”

Damn. Was Diamonte that bad, “I'm just filling in.”

“Don't get used to the job. No one lasts with him. Nothing meets his standard of quality product,” Alexander says at that moment before grabbing the bottle of Hennessy, “Not even husbands.”

There is a deepness to him. I don't know the history between the two. Looking at Diamonte I can tell that he seems ambitious but I don't know what that entails. However when I look at Alexander I don't see ambition. I see a man defeated. The way he swallows the alcohol deeply at that moment makes me feel kind of bad for him. The more I think about it the more I realize that this shit isn't right. I shouldn't be here. This man takes the Hennessy straight to the head to the point that I get a little concerned for him.

“Sir do you think you should slow down?” I ask.

He laughs a little bit, “You don't have to call me sir. I'm already dating a young man. The last thing I need is to feel even older. Call me Alexander.”

“Ok Alexander. Listen I should probably head out. I'm a little tipsy. I finished the work I needed done for Mr. Rose.”

I can't do this. I can't...

“How about some work you can do for me?” he asks.

That is when Alexander grabs my dick. He isn't shy about it. He takes a handful. He holds onto it tightly at that moment. He keeps holding onto my dick through my pants. He outlines it with his hands, grabbing the girth. My dick hardens through his pants from his hold.

“Maybe...maybe I should go man.”

“Relax sexy. You have to be the most beautiful man in LA. You know that?” he asks me giving me a look up down, “You probably hear that all the time though. That face of yours. Jesus. You can make me feel so---good...”

He's slurring. The liquor must be having some sort of immediate effect on him. It's weird honestly how he's slurring.

“You...you ok?” I ask but then I realize I'm slurring too.

What the fuck?

“Let me make you feel better man,” he offers at that moment, “Let me give you some of that good sloppy head sexy.”

He drops to his knees at that moment. He is on his knees. I'm struggling to maintain my compusure when Alexander pulls my dick out of my hole through the fly. He is so fucked up that I don't think he realizes how big my dick is. He tries to deep throat it immediately and gags a little bit. He chokes up a little bit the first time and does it again.

His mouth is warm. It is wet as fuck. He is sloppy with it leaning me up against the kitchen sink at that moment. He bobs back and forth. He licks at my balls.

He licks at my shaft.

He slurps at the spit and I have to admit my eyes are rolling in the back of my head, “Ahh fuck...damn that shit feels good...suck that dick. Take it all the way down.”

“Call me a little...”

“What?”

“Call me a little bitch.”

“Suck my dick you little bitch,” I tell him.

He goes deeper gagging on my dick. I don't know what's wrong with him as he continues to gag. I don't know what happens when he puts his mouth over my dick but all of a sudden I am realizing that I'm out of it.

Almost like I've been...drugged or something...

“Rise and shine!”

My heart races as I jump up. I look over at the clock. It's 4 am in the morning. I'm in a bedroom. Silk sheets are everywhere. Alexander is laying right next to me. Fuck. I must have passed out from the alcohol or something like that. The person walking in the room though is Diamonte. He has a camera in his hand. He's taking pictures of me and Alexander in the bed.

Alexander is still knocked out not even noticing that his husband has caught him red handed having sex.

I jump to my feet at that moment, “This is foul. This is...this is wrong man. Setting someone up like this. Alexander I didn't mean for this shit to happen.”

Alexander is still asleep in the bed not even realizing. Diamonte could care less though. He's gotten his pictures. That's what he wanted.

“You did your job. As agreed...”

Diamonte slips me a check.

“I don't want this.”

“Sure you do...” he responds.

I feel dirty. It isn't just the fact that my head hurts. It's not the fact that I just probably had sex with someone and don't even remember any of it besides the head in the kitchen. I hate the fact that I just allowed myself to be bought for whatever crazy plan Diamonte Rose concocted to separate from his husband.

I turn rejecting the check and try to make my way out of the room, “I'm getting out of here.”

“Suit yourself. Alexander. Wake up. ALEXANDER! Don't you want to say goodbye to the man who just lost you your half of the company?”

Just at that moment it occurs to me that Alexander isn't moving. Diamonte gets on the bed and shakes his leg. Alexander still isn't moving.

I am shirtless when I walk over to Alexander.

“Alexander...”

He isn't responding.

That is when I flip him over.

Alexander is blue. He is literally turning BLUE!

“FUCK!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Alexander Bautista was dead!

Diamonte turns to me and raises an eyebrow before saying with not even the slightest bit of true concern, “You killed him? I hope you don't think that means I'm going to give you a tip...”

To read the next chapter in advance go to www.crushedcrown.com