could one trust again, after an incident like that?
Getting vengeance on Quinton had been easy. A couple of years ago, she had discovered his penchant for laundering money. One tip to the FBI and his freedom was lost. As for Francine, the opportunity had yet to present itself.
In the interim, Marisela had devoted her time to her private investigation agency, Broken Hearts. She had managed to make a very good living off the lies and infidelity of men. The elite of Dallas society made up her clientele. Ninety percent of her business came from referrals. Marisela pickedup a folder off of her mahogany desk. She read through the latest information on Francine.
Apparently, Francine had also become rich off the lies and infidelity of men. Francine would marry older rich men and sign a prenuptial agreement. However, in the agreement there would be an “out clause” that awarded her ten million dollars upfront and one hundred thousand dollars a month in alimony payments if the husband was found having an affair. If she cheated first, she was entitled to nothing, not even communal property or money earned during the marriage. She would leave with the clothes on her back.
Two marriages and two infidelities later, Francine was a very rich woman. Marisela wondered why the men would agree to such a deal if they knew that they were cheating. Also, Marisela mused, is it possible that all the men were set up by Francine so she could take their money? The biggest piece of the puzzle lay in front of her—a small society page announcing Francine’s third marriage. She’d had a very un-Francine-like, small ceremony. She had married a Panamanian professor, Javier Dominguez. They met while she was vacationing in Panama. A year later they married.
What was her motive? Marisela deliberated. Javier was not a rich Columbian hombre de negocios (businessman), or an upper-class American from the Canal Zone. He was not famous, nor was he part of high society. He did not fit the mold. Like a thunderous boom hitting on a stormy night, the answer suddenly came to Marisela. Love! She had actually married for love.
The time had finally come for vengeance. According to her sources, Francine had moved to Panama City, Panama. Francine also had a trip planned to visit her family in NewYork that upcoming fall. That gave Marisela three months to brush up on her Spanish, and contact her favorite prima, Carmen. Her cousin Carmen also taught at the University of Panama. Hopefully, Carmen would help her figure out a way to get close to Javier.
Marisela flipped through the file on Javier. It was important to study all of her subjects. She examined his pictures, stopping at the one taken on a beach. He was beyond handsome and very photogenic. Standing on the shores of a white pristine beach, in blue swim trunks that clung to the contours of his body, he reminded Marisela of a Hershey’s chocolate Adonis. Chocolate was Marisela’s favorite flavor. She wondered what kind of treat lay underneath his blue swim briefs. She couldn’t wait to taste it. The photograph froze the tiny droplets of water that outlined his lean muscular physique.
His almost bald head made him sexier. From his stats, she knew he stood an even six feet. His large pecan-brown eyes captivated her. He appeared to be looking directly at her. She felt the temperature in the room rise, especially in between her legs. His face was perfectly angular with a neatly trimmed goatee.
Scrumptious. Marisela’s erect nipples strained against the satin fabric of her bra as she stared at Javier’s picture. She grew wet as her mind filled with images of revenge. Her instant sexual attraction to his picture was alarming. She was being silly, it was only a picture. Her palpitating pussy told another story. However, she convinced herself that she would not lose focus. She would lick him, suck him, and fuck Javier’s brains out. Then she would make sure Francine knew about it.
She gave Javier’s picture
Getting vengeance on Quinton had been easy. A couple of years ago, she had discovered his penchant for laundering money. One tip to the FBI and his freedom was lost. As for Francine, the opportunity had yet to present itself.
In the interim, Marisela had devoted her time to her private investigation agency, Broken Hearts. She had managed to make a very good living off the lies and infidelity of men. The elite of Dallas society made up her clientele. Ninety percent of her business came from referrals. Marisela pickedup a folder off of her mahogany desk. She read through the latest information on Francine.
Apparently, Francine had also become rich off the lies and infidelity of men. Francine would marry older rich men and sign a prenuptial agreement. However, in the agreement there would be an “out clause” that awarded her ten million dollars upfront and one hundred thousand dollars a month in alimony payments if the husband was found having an affair. If she cheated first, she was entitled to nothing, not even communal property or money earned during the marriage. She would leave with the clothes on her back.
Two marriages and two infidelities later, Francine was a very rich woman. Marisela wondered why the men would agree to such a deal if they knew that they were cheating. Also, Marisela mused, is it possible that all the men were set up by Francine so she could take their money? The biggest piece of the puzzle lay in front of her—a small society page announcing Francine’s third marriage. She’d had a very un-Francine-like, small ceremony. She had married a Panamanian professor, Javier Dominguez. They met while she was vacationing in Panama. A year later they married.
What was her motive? Marisela deliberated. Javier was not a rich Columbian hombre de negocios (businessman), or an upper-class American from the Canal Zone. He was not famous, nor was he part of high society. He did not fit the mold. Like a thunderous boom hitting on a stormy night, the answer suddenly came to Marisela. Love! She had actually married for love.
The time had finally come for vengeance. According to her sources, Francine had moved to Panama City, Panama. Francine also had a trip planned to visit her family in NewYork that upcoming fall. That gave Marisela three months to brush up on her Spanish, and contact her favorite prima, Carmen. Her cousin Carmen also taught at the University of Panama. Hopefully, Carmen would help her figure out a way to get close to Javier.
Marisela flipped through the file on Javier. It was important to study all of her subjects. She examined his pictures, stopping at the one taken on a beach. He was beyond handsome and very photogenic. Standing on the shores of a white pristine beach, in blue swim trunks that clung to the contours of his body, he reminded Marisela of a Hershey’s chocolate Adonis. Chocolate was Marisela’s favorite flavor. She wondered what kind of treat lay underneath his blue swim briefs. She couldn’t wait to taste it. The photograph froze the tiny droplets of water that outlined his lean muscular physique.
His almost bald head made him sexier. From his stats, she knew he stood an even six feet. His large pecan-brown eyes captivated her. He appeared to be looking directly at her. She felt the temperature in the room rise, especially in between her legs. His face was perfectly angular with a neatly trimmed goatee.
Scrumptious. Marisela’s erect nipples strained against the satin fabric of her bra as she stared at Javier’s picture. She grew wet as her mind filled with images of revenge. Her instant sexual attraction to his picture was alarming. She was being silly, it was only a picture. Her palpitating pussy told another story. However, she convinced herself that she would not lose focus. She would lick him, suck him, and fuck Javier’s brains out. Then she would make sure Francine knew about it.
She gave Javier’s picture
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