Black Orchid

By Christopher Maddox

Most of the island’s residents had become aware of who he was and viewed him as a flamboyant womanizer who didn’t care for anyone or anything outside of his own selfish interests. He knew he had a dubious reputation, but he didn’t care because he could buy just about anything or anyone that he wanted. That was until he met a gorgeous French girl that was beloved by all of the islands residents and whose body he could not buy. She was so strikingly beautiful that he felt he had to have her, but when he tried, she verbally eviscerated him so completely that it would change his life forever.
EXCERPT: She smiled wearily. “Well, Mr. Long, do you think that you are well known for the good things that you do, or is it for the more infamous things that you do?” she asked, in a calm, natural voice.
“I ... I’m not sure. I’ve never thought much about it, Simone,” he offered, weakly. He could feel the strength draining from his body as he stood before this beautiful creature.
Her warm smile disarmed him. “What was it that you wanted of me, Mr. Long? What can I do for you, sir?”
He shifted for a moment. “Well, I thought that you might like to come down to my boat and go out for a ride, and perhaps, have dinner with me,” he acknowledged.
She chuckled dismissively. “And do what, Mr. Long, become one of your paid whores for a day or perhaps, a month?”
He was shocked. No one had ever talked to him like that. “Why, no!” he exclaimed. “How could you say such a thing?”
“Come now, Mr. Long. If you didn’t want me to visit your boat for sex, what other reason could you possibly have? Did you want to talk to me about the sick and starving children living in the mountains that die from malnutrition or for the lack of some trivial antibiotic? An antibiotic that you take for granted that is completely out of the reach of a dying little girl. Oh, no, I’m sorry; I know what you wanted to talk to me about. You wanted to talk about the fact that the closest medical clinic to most of the inner island residents is so far away that, with limited transportation, far too many babies die, along with their mothers, in childbirth,” she stated, in a stressful tone.
She shook her head. “What do you do for a doctor when you need one, Mr. Long?” Her voice was harsh and condescending.
She wouldn’t like his answer, so he offered none. “I think that I see your point, Simone.” At this point, he realized that trying to meet her was a huge mistake.
She shook her head. “I seriously doubt it, Mr. Long. You asked me earlier if you were known for good reasons or for bad ones. I think that you know the answer to that question. You just choose not to think about it.”
She turned to walk away, but she abruptly turned back around and looked him directly in the eye.
He cringed at the depth of what he saw in her eyes as she stared at him. They were bottomless pools as black as the night, as reflective, and as shiny as black, shimmering pearls. They were beautiful and alluring, but at the same time, they appeared cold and distant, and he felt as though they could pierce his very soul. He felt uneasy, almost light-headed. He desperately wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
“When you are on your deathbed, Mr. Long, do you want to be remembered by how many whores you’ve had, or by how many babies whose lives you’ve saved?” she asked, in a calm, soft voice. “Your money, Mr. Long, can buy you almost anything that you want, but it cannot buy me,” she said as she turned and walked away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Maddox
• Release date: Nov 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310155895

Christopher Maddox

I have always been addicted to love and romance. I like strong, independent women, so I tend to write about strong female characters that either start out strong or develop whatever inner strength is needed to see them through. My heroes and heroines are sometimes flawed because mistakes and imperfections always build character and strength in strong people. Some of my stories are taken from life’s experiences while others are drawn from experiences I wish I’d had. In my world, there are no boundaries to the limitless pleasures that can be found in the female form or from the joy that can be shared between lovers. However, my books are not about page after page of mindless, non-stop sex, but when it is appropriate, I try to make it real. Where love and romance have a chance to blossom, intimacy is usually part of the equation because it is the fuel that ignites the desire that leads to love. I like to think of myself as an adult romance writer with a moral compass. I live in Florida with my wife and three, poorly trained, dogs. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I love happy endings. I love hearing from my readers and appreciate their comments and suggestions. Click on the link below if you would like to send me a message. Thank you. [e-mail]

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Black Orchid

Christopher Maddox

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Christopher Maddox

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This work contains content of an extremely graphic nature including graphic sexual acts. All characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older. This is a work of fiction intended for adults 18 and over only. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Free Excerpt

Additional Works

Chapter 1

It was a bright, sunny day, and Hunter wanted to get a few hours of fishing in before the sun began heading for the horizon. It was eleven o’clock, a little late to be starting out on a fishing trip, but he had just returned from a three-day business trip to the Cayman Islands. He was anxious to get back on his boat. He was half-way down the dock and he could already feel the cool deck and the gentle roll of his seventy-foot Hatteras Convertible beneath his feet.

It was moored prominently at the end of the dock, and the crew of four, full-time employees were ready to disembark the moment his feet hit the deck. Hunter Long was tall, about six foot three inches, and weighed close to 225 pounds. He was a 36-year-old, self-made multi-millionaire, who thought that he had life by the tail. His light-blond hair and deep, crystal-clear blue eyes made quite a contrast to the rest of the population on the Island of Martinique, in the eastern Caribbean Sea.

As he neared his boat Bare Foot, he thought of himself as being one of the most fortunate people alive.

He had been raised in abject poverty in a suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His parents had lost virtually everything they had when the steel industry collapsed in the early eighties. The economic depression in eighty-one and eighty-two that was partially fueled by the collapse of crude oil prices had created an environment where they found it impossible to find work commensurate with their backgrounds.

His father had been a shift supervisor in one of the large steel foundries that went out of business after one hundred and twenty years of continuous operation. The problem was that his skills were unique to the steel industry and not applicable to any other business. His mother worked as a certified public accountant with a company that went out of business due to the economic downturn. They hadn’t even been able to get jobs in the fast food industry because there were too many younger people out there looking to fill the same positions.

They ended up having to move in with his mother’s parents, who lived a few miles outside Pittsburgh on a small family farm. It had taken a severe toll on his father who ended up drinking himself to death in less than two years. Eventually, his mother found work with a small accounting firm and made enough money to supplement the family income. They made ends meet by cutting out everything, except the bare essentials. Eventually, they were able to live fairly comfortably. His grandfather passed away just as Hunter started high school leaving him, his mother, and grandmother by themselves.

He was an incredibly bright young man, who was determined not to let what happened to his parents also happen to him. He had excelled and graduated from high school at the top of his class as the valedictorian. Fortunately, he had received a number of scholarships, but the one that he coveted the most was from the nation’s most prestigious Ivy League school. It was Ivy League at its best. It meant that he would be rubbing elbows with some of the country’s most elite families, and it could enable him to make connections that would last him a lifetime.

Well, he got his wish and enrolled at Princeton. He always knew that his family didn’t have a lot of money, but he had never been put in a position where it had mattered. However, when he began rubbing elbows with some of the country’s wealthiest young bachelors with their cars, their airplanes, and their yachts, he became painfully aware of just how poor he was or thought he was. It was as if there were two classes of people at the school. There were the scholarship kids, who couldn’t afford to do anything, and the social elite, who could afford to do anything they wanted and didn’t mind flaunting it.

It’s funny, but the things that he thought he wanted in college were the very things that he ended up secretly disdaining because there was no way he could afford to keep up. As a result, he had grown to resent the pompous, arrogant displays of wealth that surrounded him, but he was careful, however, not to offend any of his fellow classmates and had remained cordial and friendly to everyone. Instead of going out and partying all the time, he had been forced to stay behind. He applied himself to his studies, and once again, he graduated at the top of his class.

Sandy smiled as she took his briefcase. Good morning, Hunter, she said. I hope that you had a pleasant and successful trip.

He smiled at her as he stepped down into the cockpit of Bare Foot and slipped off his shoes. Hi, Sandy. The trip was okay, but I’m glad to get back, he offered, with a smile, as he looked at the two attractive girls sitting on the gunnel on the opposite side of the boat. One was Hispanic from Costa Rica, and the other was a gorgeous black girl from Martinique, who was obviously descended from slaves who had been brought from Africa by the French to work on the sugarcane plantations.

He smiled as he walked toward them. Hi, girls. I’m Hunter, he said as he extended both of his arms.

Both girls were wearing white, thong bikinis that didn’t cover very much. The girls stood and greeted him with warm smiles, each kissing him lightly on both cheeks.

Buenos dias, Senior Hunter, said Carla as she gave him a warm embrace.

Bonjour, Monsieur Hunter, smiled Monique. He would find out later that she was beautifully infused with some of the native Carib Indian blood. As Carla had done, Monique gave him a long, generous hug.

He reluctantly released Monique. Well, I need to go change clothes and get into something more comfortable, he said, smiling as he turned and went into the main salon. Sandy was right behind him with his briefcase in hand and the shoes that he had left on the deck of the cockpit.

Oddly enough, Sandy had been the first of his full-time employees, after he purchased the boat. She was twenty-six years old and stood five feet seven inches tall with a nice figure. She had blue eyes and long, blond hair that she kept as straight as she could in the humid salt air. She had been hired to take care of his every need. Well, she would take care of almost everything, everything except sex. She had been hired to do whatever cooking was necessary on board for him and the rest of the crew and keep the interior of the boat spotless with the aid of one of the male deckhands. Therefore, when it came to sex, she was strictly off limits.

The moment he entered the main salon, Captain Bob Randal started the nearly two-thousand-horsepower engines that had already been warmed up and serviced, prior to his coming on board. The two deck hands assisted Captain Bob in casting off the lines, and they were soon on their way out of the small, protected harbor.

He went to his stateroom to change from his business attire while Sandy remained in the salon and began preparing lunch for everyone. He slipped on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, which he would most likely discard at some point during the evening.

He sat in his stateroom for a moment reflecting on his days in college when he didn’t have anything to his name except the clothes that he wore to class and an old bicycle that he used to get around the campus. With a degree in economics, he secured a job at one of the larger trading houses in New York, and it didn’t take him long to make a name for himself. Several things come together to make him a multi-millionaire in just a few, short years. It was because of the advent of the dot-com market, huge advances in software technology, and his timely graduation from college. With his stellar record of trading and his ability to make money, it was easy for him to reach out to his blue-blood alumni. He soon gained access to their millions and billions of dollars for use in the futures markets.

Within twelve years of graduating, he had amassed a fortune worth hundreds of millions of dollars. His sole purpose in life had become making money, and he felt as though he would never get enough of it.

He thought for a moment about his mother and grandmother, who still lived in the same small house just outside Pittsburgh. He tried to buy them a larger house in a better neighborhood, but they wouldn’t have any part of it. His grandmother’s health was in sharp decline, and his mother was taking care of her while still working at the accounting firm. His mother was fiercely independent and didn’t feel as though she needed his help. To his credit, he was determined to figure out a way to make her life easier.

Finally, he persuaded his mother to quit her job and go to work for him. He convinced her that he needed someone that he could trust to take care of his personal finances and file his tax returns. By doing this, she could work at home and take care of her mother at the same time. He was paying her an exorbitant amount of money, and she was financially set for the rest of her life.

He hadn’t dated much in college, mostly because he couldn’t afford to. It appeared to him that the girls were just as bad as the boys with respect to flaunting their fame and fortune. The only thing that they were interested in was finding Mr. Right, and their idea of Mr. Right was a young man who came from old family money with the best political connections. He couldn’t compete, so he didn’t try.

Things had changed for him when he began working on Wall Street. He started dating a little here and there, and after eight years, he settled on one girl, Rosalynn Peters. She was a slender, statuesque blond, who came from a wealthy Boston family. By then, he had already amassed a fortune, and he became a very sought-after, eligible bachelor. After dating Rosalynn for almost three years, they became engaged, and they planned to be married the following year.

It seemed as though he had it all. From his vantage point, he had been privy to a lot of personal information about his clients and many of his coworkers. He became increasingly aware that a large number of the people that surrounded him were terribly unhappy and miserable in their marriages. Most of the marriages that he was familiar with, he knew that one, sometimes both, of the partners had cheated on the other. It almost seemed to be a way of life where money, fame, and cheating went hand in hand.

He was determined not to let that happen to him. He was going to have it all: a house in the suburbs, two or three children, and an adoring wife, who would spend one or two afternoons a week at the club playing bridge with her girlfriends. He was in love with Rosalynn, and he thought she was in love with him. He was convinced of it until he showed up unexpectedly one afternoon and found her in bed with one of his business associates while still wearing her engagement ring.

He went into a jealous rage and beat the crap out of the guy. She was distraught and begged him for forgiveness.

Of course, he stopped seeing her. After a couple of weeks had passed, he agreed to meet with her after work, for a cocktail, to discuss their future.

She told him how much she loved him and that it was a terrible mistake. She insisted that she didn’t care for the other guy. It was just sex, nothing but sex, she pleaded.

Upon hearing what she had just said, he turned to her, You mean that it was just sex and that there was nothing else going on between the two of you? he asked.

She smiled at him, thinking that she was making some headway. Why, yes, of course, honey. That’s what I have been trying to tell you. It was just sex, and it didn’t really mean anything, she said emphatically.

He could still remember the pain he felt when he heard those words as she was trying to talk her way back into his bed. Rosalynn, is that supposed to make me feel better? he asked.

She nodded. Well, I would hope so. It means that the only person that I care about is you, and I won’t have sex with him any longer.

He looked at her and asked with disgust in his voice, If you didn’t have any feelings for him, then why did you fuck him?

She shook her head. "I know this is going to sound terrible, but it really was just sex, she insisted. I guess, to be honest, I just wanted to have sex with him, and now, I can see how stupid it was."

Unfortunately, she was beautiful, and he was horny. That is a dangerous combination for a man. After a couple of drinks, she managed to seduce him, and they began dating again. This went on for a few weeks. During this time, however, he began to feel increasingly insecure with her lack of commitment, and emotionally, he slowly drifted away from her. Even though he no longer felt committed to their relationship, they did continue to see each other and have sex on a regular basis.

It wasn’t long before he began to show signs of depression, and after twelve years of working nearly day and night, seven days a week, he suffered from what he thought was burnout. Eventually, he was diagnosed with having had a nervous breakdown, but he refused to admit it.

It seemed that no amount of money would make him happy, not in the way that the ivy leaguers appeared to be happy. He became discouraged and sold most of his personal holdings before the dot-com crash, and he was able to hold on to most of his millions. He moved most of his assets to the Cayman Islands because of the favorable tax laws and the relaxed, laid-back lifestyle.

He left Rosalynn in New York, telling her that he needed some time to himself to reflect and make sense of his life. For some reason, where she was concerned, he found it difficult to say no. As a result, she continued to visit him every few months in an effort to patch up their relationship. He still let her come to visit because she was so attractive, and sex with her was good and familiar though he no longer felt anything for her. She had simply become another one of his distractions.

Even though he was living on his boat, he continued to do research and invest in new technologies that interested him. He also invested in oil futures; it was what he knew best. With the aid of two young men that he had hired to sit and watch two-dozen monitors all day that displayed trading results, he was able to keep up with what was going on without having to be there. Whenever certain things came together in a particular manner, they would call him via a satellite link, and he would make a decision whether to buy or to sell.

This is just too easy, he thought, as he headed out to get better acquainted with the two girls who were waiting for him on deck. He was worth more money now than he was when he had retired. He had it all, or so he thought. He had all the money he would ever need. At this point, he had more than he could ever spend. He had all of the sex that any man could dream of having, and the girls would come and go at his whim. You see, Carla and Monique were just two of the many women, some professionals and some amateurs, that had been selected specially for him. He would keep them for as long as he enjoyed their pleasures, and then, they would be swapped out for two more.

Before they were ever introduced to him, they would be thoroughly screened, both emotionally and physically, but he would eventually tire of them. Some would last a few days and some would last a month or so, but all of them would eventually leave the boat, and they would be replaced with more fresh, young, beautiful girls.

Yes, he had it all, he thought to himself, as he opened the door to the cockpit and stepped outside into the fresh salt air. The boat was doing about thirty-six knots, skimming across the water and literally flying toward the outer fishing grounds. The girls had removed their tops, as previously instructed, and were proudly showing him their gorgeous bodies. He walked up to Carla, embraced her, and gave her a deep kiss as he cupped her light-brown breast.

You are beautiful, baby, he said as he glanced at Monique. Yes, he had everything that the ivy leaguers had back when he was in college. He had it all, and he had become one of them with his pompous, arrogant displays of wealth, for which he had no real appreciation. He had turned into what he had so thoroughly disdained in college: a self-centered, pretentious asshole. He never thought much about the feelings of the people that surrounded him. He used them for what they were, his employees. Oh, he treated them well enough and paid them handsomely, but at the end of the day, it was all about him and his needs. Moreover, he actually thought that he was one of the happiest people in the world.

******

Overt gestures of affection during the day, while the crew was on board, were kept to a minimum. There might be an occasional kiss or some light caressing, but usually, there was very little of that in the presence of the crew. It wasn’t until the crew had left for the evening, and he was alone with the girls that the fun started, as he called it.

They called it an early day because the seas had picked up to around eight to ten feet, and it became too uncomfortable to stand, let alone fish. Once they were safely moored at the dock, the crew cleaned and washed down the boat. After they had finished all of their chores, he told them that they could leave for the day.

You might as well go, too, Sandy. There’s no reason for you to stay around and fix dinner for us. I’ll order something from the club later, he said while he opened a bottle of wine and filled three glasses. He handed Carla and Monique each a glass of cool, white wine and touched each of their glasses with his. Here’s to a very good evening, girls, he offered with a big smile.

If you need anything, Hunter, you know where to find me, said Sandy as she walked out of the main salon and hopped up onto the dock. Geez, she mumbled to herself. He is such a fucking womanizer. He treats everyone well, but he is such a user, she scoffed. Those poor girls were made to go topless all day so that he could look at their breasts, she complained aloud. She walked along thinking that some day she was going to get the courage to tell him what she thought of him. At one time, she had been attracted to him. Hell, who wouldn’t have been, she thought. However, after watching him bed fifty or so of the most gorgeous women that she had ever seen in the past year alone, she was pretty much turned off by him. Pretty much, that is, she mumbled to herself with a slight giggle.

Monique and Carla stared coquettishly at Hunter when he looked hungrily at their bodies.

You girls are beautiful, he said with a gleam in his eye. He glanced from their bare breasts to their small, compact bottoms. How old are you? he asked.

Carla smiled. I am twenty-two, she answered, with an exceptionally sweet smile, as she twisted back and forth about her ankles.

He looked at Monique. And you, Monique?

She smiled as she placed her wineglass on the coffee table. She walked toward him demurely and wrapped her arms around his waist. Monsieur Hunter, I am twenty-six, and I am very lonely right now, she said, with a sweet French accent, as she softly kissed his lips.

Her lips were brown and luscious, her mouth fresh and clean, with a hint of cool Sauvignon Blanc. She parted her lips and brushed his tongue with hers while she nudged her sex into his. He reached behind her, cupped her round bottom, and pulled her closer to him. Carla came over to give him a sip of her wine, and then she kissed his cool lips, with her mouth open, to meet his eager tongue. She gave Monique a sip and then kissed her openly as well. Monique responded aggressively, and the girls’ lips fused in a deep, sensuous kiss. Monique’s sex was still firmly planted against his cock as she searched Carla’s mouth with her tongue and ground her pussy into Hunter.

He groaned. You girls are so fucking hot, he said as he moved away so the two could embrace one another. He watched as their passion grew, and their embrace tightened. Their mouths appeared inseparable while luscious Hispanic lips consumed the even more luscious and fuller, dark-brown lips of this delicious black girl. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was getting just watching the two of them. He moved behind Monique and slowly lowered her thin white thong to expose her wet sex. He then turned to Carla and lowered her thong as well. He could tell her gusset was wet and sticky because it reluctantly pulled away from her sex. Both girls were smooth shaven and oozed with excitement.

He chuckled. Well, it is pretty obvious that you like what you are doing. I just hope that you like men as well, he teased.

Monique turned and looked at him. "Don’t you worry, monsieur, because I love men, and I love a big cock in me," she said with that sexy, French accent.

He grinned. Yes, I think that I am going to enjoy having you girls around for a while, he said as he reached down and slid his fingers through Carla’s moist lips. Carla turned, and with her mouth open, she kissed him passionately while she pushed her sex into his probing fingers.

Monique bent down, unfastened his shorts, and slid them to the floor. His briefs