Jack Trotter and Amber Fontana enjoy a platonic relationship; that is until one fateful evening when they dine at Jimmie’s Crab Shack, a tiny bistro lying in seclusion off the coastal highway outside of Santa Monica. An out of the way place, Jimmie’s legendary seafood is as notorious as the movie stars and gangsters who have wined and dined here since the Roaring Twenties. It is here, in the aura of secrecy where clandestine meetings amongst lovers; deceitful schemes; and revenge riddled plots, have abounded for decades, where Amber reveals her intimacy problem, and Trotter finds courage to reveal his own disturbing dilemma.
Together, Jack and Amber overcome their sexual inhibitions and learn how to love. Then the two lovers mastermind a plan to take what they feel is rightfully Amber’s…forty million dollars from her greedy twin sister who became a sensational singing diva due mainly to Amber’s writing her twin’s hit songs, for little pay and no recognition.
Born of Greed is a fascinating epic fictional biography where greed, love, and revenge collide with sex, drugs and rock and roll.
She glanced at those women. Neither of them could keep their eyes off Trotter, and then a tear streamed down her cheek.
“Amber, it’s all right,” Trotter attempted to console her. Although he had no idea why she just went from laughter to tears. “I would be content having you just as a friend. Nothing more. Please don’t cry. I was only teasing about Johnny Law putting you in the slammer.”
Her tears stopped and she coughed out a laugh. “Oh Jack. You big, good-looking dummy. I’m not crying about that. I’m crying because…because…I’m crying because I could never give you what you want…or expect…from a woman. I can’t be an exotic and desirable woman, like Raquel Welch.”
Her mood swing from laughing to tears, then back to laughter baffled Trotter. In addition, he had no clue on her explanation of the tears. “But I only want your friendship. Honest. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”
She was able to detect honesty in his voice, and a sympathetic sincerity in his face. Two qualities no man had ever shown her before. Perhaps this was the reason she found herself so easily confiding in him. Maybe it was the sadness she saw in his eyes, behind his smile; the same compassion she sensed when they were clinging to the ladder in the pool. The few other men she tried to be with wanted her for her money, or sex, and so far, Jack Trottson expressed no hint of wanting either from her. Contrarily, she found herself attracted to him more spiritually and emotionally, than physically. However, she did find him easy to look at, just as those two horny bitches also dining here did.
“What I’m trying to say is, my whole life is a farce. I could never satisfy your desires…like those two…sluts…over there want to do to you right now.”
Trotter looked their way, and they both hurriedly focused their gaze from him, to their clam chowder and turkey on wheat sandwiches.
“Those two over there?” He asked, using his eyes to show direction.
“Yes, Jack. Those two. They’ve been undressing you since we walked in.”
“I didn’t take notice. I was too wrapped up in our conversation, and I find you absolutely…intriguing, Amber.”
“And I find you fascinating too. That’s what scares the hell out of me and makes me envious of mature women like them.” Her hand was shaking as she picked up her soda and took a sip through the straw. “Life’s not fair! Christ! I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.” Another tear sprang from the corner of her eye, and ran off her cheek.
Trotter reached his hands across the table and held her tiny, trembling hands in his. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anymore.”
Looking into his eyes, she saw that understanding sadness again, through a smile she knew he was forcing for her sake. She felt compelled to tell him her problem. Lately, the thought of suicide has been running rampant through her mind, and subconsciously, she had a desire to confess her affliction to an understanding ear. She knew in her mind that confiding in a sympathetic person would possibly heal her tortured soul.
“It’s just that I’m so tired of Amy calling me a lesbian, or a virgin. I’ve never been with a woman. Nor have I ever slept with a man.” She put her hand over her mouth and looked away.
A moment passed, then she lowered her hand to her chin. “When I was thirteen years old, I was…almost raped…by the father of a little girl I baby sat. I never told anybody. It was ugly! He hurt me! He almost took the most precious thing I owned, and the bastard gave me a fear of intimacy in return. I hated all men for a long, long time. Now, perhaps because I’m older, it’s just that…I’m so confused. I have all these mixed emotions.”
* * * *
Did he hear her correctly? She could not be intimate, either? His heart skipped a beat. Although his mind was racing, he kept a poker face, “Trust me Amber, I know how cruel life can be. I promise to keep your secret. Believe me.”
“Somehow, I knew you would understand, Jack. But, I also hope you won’t look at me like I’m a freak, or less of a woman. What really tears me apart and breaks my heart is that I really like you. Like I’ve already said though, our relationship could never be anything more than platonic. I know a day will come when you’ll want more than that from me, and I will not…be able to be there for you.”
Their overly bubbly waitress returned with their seafood dishes. “Lobster Bisque for the lady, and the Captain’s Platter for you, Captain.” The waitress said cheerfully while placing their scrumptious looking meals on the table, then she asked, “Can I get you anything else?”
“Yes you may,” Trotter said, reaching across the table and picking up Amber’s almost full glass of diet cola. He then handed it and his iced tea to the waitress. “What wine do you recommend with seafood?”
“I would suggest the Chardonnay to accent the lobster,” she quickly answered with no hesitation, placing their glasses on her tray.
“Excellent choice! Bring us a chilled bottle of your finest Chardonnay, and two glasses, please,” Trotter politely requested.
“Yes, sir, Captain. Coming right up.” She flashed her smile and left.
Amber looked at Trotter, astonished. “I thought you said you weren’t a drinker.”
“I’m not. Unless there’s reason to celebrate,” Trotter replied with a devilish grin on his face.
“What’s there to celebrate?” Amber asked suspiciously. “I just told you I’m damaged goods.” Trotter reached across the table, and once again, he clasped her tiny hands in his huge paws. “Us. We are celebrating us. And the beginning of our…ironically…innocent…relationship!”
Judy then closed her eyes and let the power of both her vivid imagination and two D-cell batteries, magically, mentally, transform his front door—into—her back door.
Her fantasy lover taps their covert knock ever so lightly. She opens the door and orders her private dancer, “Get your ass in here, Marine. I’ve been waiting for you.”
She then closes the door behind him and coos, “We only have time for a quickie, my Love. Dickhead Craig will be home in an hour.”
Trotter replies, “Any longer than that, and you’d probably kill me, you sex starved nympho.”
She’s wearing a see-through teddy. He eyes her sexy body up and down. She senses his tormented hunger for her. He can’t help but to utter, “God, you’re one beautiful bitch! I’m AWOL right now, but I don’t care. I couldn’t stay away. I’d face a firing squad to be with you.”
As though a model on the catwalk, she sashays to him. With the confidence of Mae West, “I knew you’d be back. You can’t resist my charms. Aching all over, aren’t you?”
He swiftly and easily pulls her to him with one arm and plants a long wet kiss on her mouth. Their tongues play hide and seek. Her knees weaken as she drops to the floor. She pulls his sweatpants off, then his speedos, while he rips off his Bulldog sweatshirt, exposing those gorgeous, rippling muscles. Still on her knees, she caresses him with her cheek.
Within seconds, she has her Marine standing at rock hard attention, ready for duty. She looks up into his big blue eyes. “I can’t wait any longer. I surrender!”
He picks her off the floor with his massive arms and sits her on the bed. She rolls on to her back, he follows. His mouth lingers on her voluptuous lips, then to her neck where he teasingly nibbles. Ever so lightly, he sprinkles kisses on her glistening breasts. His tongue weaves its way downward and circles her belly button. She clutches his head; his short hair feels like velvet in her hands as she pulls him tight to her. He buries his face in her downy mound. His tongue flutters lightly on her trigger, causing her hips to quiver. Her cute little ass raises off the satin sheets of her king size bed. “Oh…Ohh…Ohhh…” Wave after wave of intense pleasure race through her shuddering body. Each one more intense than the last, lighting a fire deep in her loins as she grinds her pelvis hard in his face.
“Now. I need to feel you deep inside of me, now. Give me that big schlong, Marine,” she orders, moaning out in a whisper.
“Yes, ma’am, you outrank me.” He gracefully slides his muscular body up and across her flat tummy as his lips search for hers. Hungrily, they kiss. Feverishly, she rakes her nails across his back as he slowly, teasingly engulfs her. She gasps while tenderly biting his lower lip. Her gasps turn to moans.
“Slam me. Hard!” she orders. “Now!”
He obeys, plunging his entire manhood into her wet pussy in one vicious thrust.
Her moans turn to quiet screams, drowning the hum of her vibrator, as he pounds away in long hard thrusts.
For the next hour, Corporal Trotter obeyed Judy’s every command; be it in the bedroom, on the kitchen table, in the shower, on the floor, or in Craig’s Lazy Boy recliner. Even in the pool. Anywhere and every way her little mind fantasized. Her Marine is a beast that never tires.
Her vibrator’s batteries were running low when she heard her husband’s car door slam. “Fuck! He’s early. Quick, my love. Out the door.”
He pulls her close for one more kiss. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes, my Love.” She sighs heavily, exhausted.
Judy heard her husband’s keys jingling at the front door. She jumped out of her easy chair, grabbed the soaking wet towel from under her huge, fat ass and ran down the hall to the bathroom. She threw the towel in the hamper, and ran to the bedroom. She tossed the dildo in her nightstand, and snuck under the blankets. Where’d an hour go?
Craig’s key turned the lock; he came in and headed straight for the refrigerator. “Oh, good, there’s salami.” The fool always talked to himself. Then she heard the distinct ‘ssshhhpop’ when he opened a can of cold Old Milwaukee beer. Twenty minutes later she heard the toilet flush, but no sounds of any hand washing.
Craig, short, fat, and balding, stood by the bed and dropped his trousers and tidy whities to the floor. He left his smelly, sweaty T-shirt on and crawled under the blankets. Then he put his face next to his wife’s ear, and whispered with his beer and salami breath, “Honey, are you awake?” She did not reply as he silently burped from the beer.
Then in a louder voice, he said, “Daddy’s home. Does my little Muffin need some sugar?”
“Huh? What? No, Dear. I’m too exhausted. I was up all night with a migraine, again. I need sleep,” she replied, wincing from the nauseating stench of his burp.
“Okay, Muffin, maybe later. Go back to sleep.” He patted her fat rump, turned his back to her, put his glasses on the nightstand, and belched long and loud before dozing off.
The later is usually much, much later. Craig’s lucky if it’s once every two months when Judy lets him have any of her ‘sugar’. She will only give in after tiring of his constant whining and begging. Then she orders the repulsive little fat man, “Here it is. Make it fast, and don’t you dare come in me.”
She tells him she likes it best from behind, just so she doesn’t have to smell his beer and salami breath. However, it’s not her short-peckered husband banging her. Oh no, it’s—her Marine, her Love, the rock solid soldier boy with the tight buns and massive schlong who obeys every command she barks out, never tiring.
Then, on the extremely rare occasions when Craig manages to last for more than two minutes, or he finally gets it right and Judy lets out a tiny whimper, he always asks in his arrogant tone, “Who’s your Daddy?”
Then, with her eyes closed, she stares into those big blue eyes, smiles to herself, and replies, “You, my Love. Only…You.”
Born of Greed by J.T. Baroni was a mix of all the elements that I look for in a book. Intrigue, drama, sex and love were just among the few. Jack Trotter is a man’s man, dishonorably discharged from the military and now an undercover cop, Trotter lives life on the edge. Amber is a spoilt, inhibited woman with intimacy issues who begins an affair with Trotter. The two take a journey that leads them through deceit, deception and eventually love.
Mr. Baroni’s portrayal allowed for the characters to evolve and mature intrinsically and outwardly; as individuals and as a couple. I appreciated that the author permitted the characters to be real, not a fantasy that was unattainable. Sometimes a novel is built on circumstantial evidence where the main characters live in a world of fiction with little substance and are superficial. I did not find this feature in Born of Greed. In fact, I found the story to be poignant and dramatic, lending itself to a wonderfully erotic read.
J.T. Baroni led me on a journey through the eyes of Jack and Amber that was emotionally raw and satisfying. I thoroughly enjoyed the read and definite recommend it.
A four handcuff review.
A four handcuff review.
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Born of Greed. Winner will be drawn Tuesday, April 9.
Born of Greed. Winner will be drawn Tuesday, April 9.