Billionaire Romance: Royal Island Yacht Club Page 2

  “Great. Okay, go into the diner and parade yourself around a little bit. That way, if I never hear from you again, I can go to the diner and show you a picture…we’ll find your killer in no time.”

  “Thank you,” Julianne responded in a deadpan tone. “That makes me feel so safe and secure, Trisha.”

  “I’m joking,” reassured Trisha. “For the hundredth time, you’ll be all right.”

  “Actually, I don’t even have time. I’m supposed to meet this person any minute.”

  As she made this remark, Julianne noticed a handful of cooks inside the restaurant visibly leering at Julianne through the window.

  “Anyway, I think they saw me.” Once again, Julianne’s faith in humankind plummeted.

  “All right, I should let you go then. I got the address and everything is going to be fine. Go get it, girl!” Trisha commanded before hanging up the phone.

  “Thanks, Trisha.” Julianne replied out loud, followed by a warm smile.

  As soon as Julianne dropped her phone back into her purse, a vehicle appeared. It was a black BMW with tinted windows. The car stopped alongside the windy peer. The passenger’s seat window slid open. The bronze arm of a female curled out of the darkness and beckoned Julianne to come forward. She walked carefully in her stiletto heels toward the vehicle. An older, glamorous blonde woman leaned forward. She looked like a 1950s blonde pin-up who had aged like fine wine and didn’t look a day over forty. A younger man, a little too eager to please, was planting kisses up and down her hidden forearm. The older woman gazed upon her lover and grinned kindly like a master with her lapdog. She then turned to Julianne.

  “Are you Julianne Wallace?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Around here, I’m called Shannon. You’re more than welcome to stick with your own name but most of our club members prefer to adopt pseudonyms.”

  “I understand.”

  “May I see some ID before we get started?”

  Julianne rifled through her purse and grabbed her New Jersey driver’s license. She too gave it to Shannon, who thoroughly scanned the item.

  “Okay, your ID checks out,” replied Shannon before returning it to Julianne. “I see you’re dressed for the evening and you were on time. Early, in fact. So we’re ready to go.”

  “Great,” Julianne smiled back with staid elegance, while desperately trying to conceal her ebullience.

  “Welcome to the Royale Island Yacht Club. Behind this estate here is the privately owned Royale Island, which is where we’ll be sailing to this evening. Do you have any questions?”

  “Not at all,” Julianne cooperated.

  “Good girl,” Shannon nodded. “Now, I trust you came prepared with the entry fee. Total cost is two thousand dollars.”

  Julianne’s jaw dropped to the boards beneath her feet. She leaned in towards the vehicle, speechless and aghast.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  “Well, of course. The Royale Island Yacht Club is the very definition of ‘private.’”

  “I thought it was going to be a couple hundred dollars maybe. Five hundred at the most and I could slap everything onto a credit card. You’re telling me it costs two thousand goddamn dollars to join your stupid yacht club?”

  Julianne cringed, realizing she’d detonated her chances with those two simple words: Stupid club.

  Shannon leaned back in astonishment.

  “Surely, you were sent a text message indicating the cost of entry.”

  “I got a text message telling me where to go, and what to wear. That was about it!”

  Julianne yanked her phone out of her purse and showed Shannon the evidence.

  “Oh,” sighed Shannon. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” All of a sudden, Shannon’s disposition had shifted effortlessly between Sexpot and Matriarch. “We have a new intern and he’s just starting out. He was supposed to indicate the final amount and we’re going to have to have a stern conversation with him. Is there any way you can come up with the money tonight?”

  “Not exactly,” Julianne curtly replied.

  “Look,” Shannon motioned for Julianne to lean forward further. “Normally I wouldn’t tell you any of this, but I like you.”

  Julianne looked surprised.

  “Why?”

  “Because I just heard you call us, and I quote, a ‘stupid club.’”

  “Yeah, shouldn’t that make me banned for life?”

  “My dear,” Shannon was now playing the part of Julianne’s Schoolteacher. “Do you have any idea how many fawning cretins I have to deal with on a nightly basis? Clueless young ladies who look just like you, and they think the way into the Royale Island Yacht Club is to lick the soles of my shoes. Just look at Simon here, poor baby…”

  Julianne watched as Shannon grabbed Simon by the chin and kissed him passionately on the mouth, while he fondled her breasts. After a moment of indiscretion, Shannon remembered she was in the middle of conversing with a stranger.

  “I do apologize,” Shannon continued. “Sometimes, in these silly little clubs, we members can get a little…carried away.” Shannon’s voice cooed over that last phrase as though she were savoring a sip of finely aged, single-malt scotch. Simon occupied his time, while Shannon spoke by kissing her neck and wrapping his arms around her body. “Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you, Julianne, is you’re a girl with spunk. And that’s exactly what this club needs. Now, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. We’re taking off for Royale Island in an hour. If you can come up with the money you need before midnight, you’re in. If not, the next time we convene, you have my word that you will be contacted.”

  “One hour?”

  “Meet me in the foyer in one hour…but only if you have the money.” Shannon turned ahead. “Drive,” she commanded. The window rolled up and the vehicle disappeared into the adjacent parking lot.

  “Shit,” Julianne cried. Two thousand dollars in an hour? You’ve got to be kidding me! Julianne angrily thought to herself as she paced in circles in front of the gigantic Royale Island Yacht Club Estate. She looked out into the sea and tried to get a glimpse of Royale Island itself. She could nearly make out the illuminated manor resting comfortably in the distance. She pictured the filthiest of deeds taking place right within the heart of the Royale Island Yacht Club: drug orgies, S&M contests, murder mysteries reaching to the top of the government—and Julianne was going to miss out on all of it.

  After belting a barrage of profanities out into the Atlantic Ocean, Julianne pulled herself together and marched herself into the Horizon Diner. Julianne realized that she was about to face a torrent of lewd remarks, courtesy of a boisterous pack of debauched hyenas. So she made a beeline for the bar, ordered a large whiskey, and forcefully warned the depraved waiting staff that she would castrate all of them unless they kept their mouths shut. They all believed her.

  After gulping down the Jameson glass and ordering another, Julianne’s next order of business was to call Trisha yet again.

  “For God’s sake, Julianne. Why isn’t a playboy billionaire eating you out right now?”

  “Well, at this rate, I’m never going to have a playboy billionaire eat me out, so thanks for that.”

  Julianne looked up to discover the waiters listening in on her conversation. After Julianne’s comment about cunnilingus, all their faces turned beet red.

  “Oh, grow up.” Julianne said with disdain before returning to the phone call. “I need to come up with two thousand dollars in less than an hour. Are you near a computer? Can you do a quick Kickstarter campaign for me?”

  “Two thousand dollars!?”

  “Okay, I can probably cover like…twenty-five percent of that. Tops.”

  “I mean, I knew it was going to be pricey, but that’s ridiculous.”

  “Well look, is there anything I can do? Trish, I just came so close to getting in there. I was talking to this woman in a car with tinted windows, this totally sexy older woman, like if Marilyn grew up to be a cougar
.”

  Trisha raised her eyebrows.

  “Hot.”

  “Right? And there’s this dimwit young guy who looks like a GQ model, and he was motor-boarding her tits right in front of me!”

  “Motor-boarding!?”

  “At least I think I saw her get motor-boarded.”

  “Holy shit, Julianne, this is like out of Ancient Rome. You’ve got to get in there!”

  “Yes, and with what money, Trisha? That’s sort of the reason I’m calling you. Do you have anything you’re willing to lend? You know I’m good for it.”

  “Jules, if I had fifteen hundred dollars to spare, I’d send it to you right this second. But I don’t. Besides calling everyone on your Contacts list, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.

  “Goddammit,” Julianne sighed.

  “I mean, you could always sneak on board one of the yachts before it disembarks, but you’re never going to do that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Julianne sounded irritated.

  “No offense, Julianne, but you’re not much of a risk-taker. This is the riskiest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “But isn’t that the whole point? I’m finally taking a few risks while I still can and now I’m so, so close to nailing this!”

  “How badly do you want this?”

  “Do you hear the desperation in my voice right now? I want this more than anything.”

  “Okay. Then you know what to do: Get on board that yacht.”

  “I was worried you were going to say that.”

  “Godspeed, Jules.” Trisha hung up one last time.

  Julianne checked her phone before diving into her second whiskey glass. Julianne had approximately forty-five minutes to decide whether or not she was going to risk possible imprisonment by sneaking aboard a private yacht sailing towards the exclusive Royale Island Yacht Club. But first, the spirits of John Jameson were cultivating a profound sense of eroticism broiling beneath Julianne’s silk V-string panties.

  Julianne thought back to the impromptu fantasy she developed back in the parking lot: a Bacchanalian parade of illicit, hedonistic pursuits. Before making her call in the real world, Julianne thought it was worth exploring her fantasy for a short time…

  CHAPTER Three

  Julianne slipped into the Horizon Diner’s Ladies Room and locked the door. She had to hand it to the staff: they were undoubtedly perverts, but they knew how to make a bathroom spotless. Julianne slid her V-neck panties down from her thighs and popped them into her purse. She propped her backside on top of the sink and curled her tongue around her forefingers. Once the two digits were lubricated, she brought them down to the vagina and returned to the exquisite orgy she had painted earlier in her mind.

  She imagined herself spiraling around a first-class yacht sailing through a chilled and placid Atlantic coastline. A firm hand grabbed hold of hers. She went onto picture a mysterious, tall figure wearing a million-dollar tuxedo and an ornate Venetian mask. As they clasped each other’s hands, the mysterious gentleman led her down to the lower deck, where there was a king-sized bed for the two lovers to enjoy. Julianne fell back onto the mattress and spread her legs. She opened up her pussy and began to finger herself vigorously, rubbing the fingers in and around her creamed snatch. She firmly stroked her clit with her thumb, as she imagined the masked stranger’s arced and elastic cock plunging into Julianne’s gaping pussy. She couldn’t help herself. Jerking herself off was the only way Julianne could motivate herself to pursue the Royale Island Yacht Club issue further. Within the illicit crevices of her mind, Julianne was being fiercely pounded into submission by the delectable masked stranger, while her vagina filled with gushing, joyful come. Back in the real world, Julianne was biting down on her tongue in an effort to stifle her ecstatic yelping as she fingered herself into multiple orgasms—in the off-chance she would fail to meet an amorous masked stranger later on in the evening.

  As she finished herself off, Julianne imagined her inner beast bursting forth, while she made passionate and lustrous love to this mysterious individual. She saw herself pushing the masked stranger off. He lay on his back, while she lowered herself onto the stranger’s stiff dick. She rocked her vagina back and forth, while the rock hard cock churned away inside Julianne’s reservoir of a pussy.

  By now, Julianne was flush and incapable of thinking coherently. She slowly dragged herself back into consciousness. She looked around at the obscene mess she’d made. Julianne quickly mopped up the evidence of her sordid deed with a barrage of moistened paper towels. She slid her panties back over her wet labia and made herself presentable. She stepped back out into the bathroom. The waiting staff were all barely managing to conceal their curious eyes. Julianne casually went back to her drink. Erstwhile, Julianne used her other hand to send out massive chain texts to as many people as possible. Out of all the people she knew, one of them had to be able to help Julianne come up with the money. Sadly, most of her contacts responded with the same conversation-stopping text reply: “What do you need all that $$$ for????”

  With approximately one half hour to go, Julianne was beginning to realize that Trisha was right. She was indeed going to have to sneak aboard a departing yacht and remain incognito until it was too late for any of the club members to do anything about it. But Julianne had never attempted anything like this before. She needed to carefully consider every move, as though she were caught up in a complex game of chess with a genius. After finishing the rest of her alcohol, Julianne paid her bill and left a considerably large tip. She stepped out of the Horizon Diner and snuck toward the Estate.

  Julianne looked around to see if there were any club members watching. It suddenly occurred to Julianne that if the Royale Island Yacht Club were as powerful and well-connected as it seemed, they were likely watching her every move regardless. It was at this moment that Julianne realized she was caught in a honey trap. She was in too deep no matter what she did. As such, Julianne figured she might as well dig as deep as she could before somebody decided to take her shovel away.

  Julianne covered herself by jumping from one garden bush to the next. She slipped effortlessly toward the pier and looked around. A majestic yacht was docked right before her very eyes. It appeared to Julianne like a mighty ocean liner. The Olympian was a golden vessel designed to smoothly sail through any body of water on the planet, no matter how treacherous or turbulent. Julianne took a step back into the darkness in order to take in the powerful sea craft sitting before her. She examined the area. She noticed a pair of dumpsters sitting behind her. They would provide adequate cover for Julianne while she waited for members of the Royale Island Yacht Club to begin flooding onto the yacht, while schmoozing and sipping a seemingly infinite supply of champagne. Julianne’s plan rested on the assumption that the members, in their inebriated state, would be unable to spot her out from amongst the crowd. Julianne only hoped to be noticed due to her spellbinding appearance. She also hoped that the whiskey she inhaled wasn’t affecting her judgment too severely.

  It took a canyon’s worth of patience to keep Julianne fixed on her target. It was of tantamount importance that Julianne avoided Shannon at all costs, until it was too late for Shannon to do anything about it. Julianne had purchased an enormous amount of stock in her unswerving belief that she would be able to attach herself to an amorous billionaire within minutes of setting sail for Royale Island.

  Julianne opened up her phone within her purse for fear that somebody important might notice the fluorescent light glowing out of the darkness. The time was eleven fifty-five. Within a few short moments, The Olympian left port and hit the Atlantic. Suddenly, her phone started to ring. The chorus of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel echoed through the surrounding square patch of the pier. It was one of the several old friends that Julianne had texted back when she was hustling for an exorbitant loan of two thousand dollars. Julianne slammed her thumb down on the Deny Call button and prayed to whomever would listen that nobody was around to catch
her red-handed. Sadly, no one answered her prayer.

  “Excuse me!” A deep, booming voice cried out.

  Julianne watched as a tall, masculine shadow advanced gradually into the light and towards her darkened hiding spot. Her eyes filled with tears. She held tightly to the bag and trembled. How could I have been so stupid? Julianne thought to herself. The one time I go out looking for a little excitement in my life…Now I have to die for it. Wonderful. Her only hope was that her demise would come about in a swift and brief fashion. Julianne shut her eyes. The footsteps ceased. She gulped down hard and waited to wake up somewhere far beyond this world.

  “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

  Julianne opened her eyes again. She wasn’t dead, but on the other hand, Julianne had just been confronted with a cliché she deeply despised. She was no longer fighting for her life. Instead, Julianne was determined to let this drunken boor have it.

  But then she looked up and saw the elegant specimen standing before her. The gentleman was tall and authoritative. He was an older gentleman; if Julianne had to guess, she imagined he was about twenty years her senior. But he was a silver fox through and through. He possessed finely chiseled cheekbones and a pearly smile. His eyes were luminous: two scorching white orbs with aquamarine pupils keeping Julianne transfixed. Julianne stood up. It was still a possibility that this luscious gentleman happened to be the most attractive killer in the world, but as long as he kept up that sly and deviant smile on his face, Julianne would have little to complain about on her journey toward the afterlife.

  “Cat got your tongue?” The gentleman added.

  Julianne furrowed her brow.

  “Do you only ever talk in clichés?”

  The gentleman chuckled softly.

  “Point taken. Still, what are you doing out here? Who are you with?”

  Julianne opened her mouth but the words were apparently stuck somewhere in her throat. If only she knew what those words actually were. Her mind was fixed upon mentally undressing the man. As a result, no other thought no matter how simple was capable of getting a word in edgewise. Little did Julianne realize that her brain was about to blow everything. Because she was so dumbstruck by the lustrous billionaire before her, Julianne had lost track of her plan entirely. Honesty was the only working impulse she had left.