Better Luck Next Time: Vapid Vixens

By I. Ronik and T. L. Haddix

When Frank comes home again with lipstick on his shirt, Amber packs her bags and walks away. And this time, she isn't coming back…

 

Amber's marriage is in trouble. Her high-powered husband can't keep it zipped, so she does what any reasonable woman would. She runs home to her mother and becomes a high-end escort. Maybe, just maybe, giving Frank a dose of his own medicine will make him realize what he's lost. But will this all-or-nothing gamble work, or does it end up costing her everything she holds dear?

 

Better Luck Next Time is a sexy, steamy, short story that features multiple encounters with different - and sometimes multiple - partners. It contains language, has some cheating and adult sexual situations, including voluntary sex work. It is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: T L Haddix
• Release date: Aug 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393975427

Book preview

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Table Of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Better Luck Next Time

Copyright © 2014 by T. L. Haddix All rights reserved.

First Edition: 2014

Second Kindle Edition: 2019

Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

I never thought becoming a prostitute would save my marriage. But it did.

Yeah, you read that right. I became a prostitute in order to keep my husband. The decision was incredibly difficult, let me tell you. But I’d been married eight years, and I loved Frank. I didn’t want to lose him.

That said, I wasn’t about to put up with his shenanigans any longer, and the only way I could get through to him was to serve him up a dose of his own medicine.

I had tried begging, pleading, threatening him, all to no avail. I’d gone to my mother’s for a week (several times), gotten new hairstyles, new boobs, lost weight, gained weight; nothing worked. He wouldn’t stop the destructive behavior that was tearing us apart. The hell of it was, I knew he loved me. If I didn’t, walking away would have been easy. But he justified everything he was doing as being for us.

Sweetheart, you don’t understand. In order for me to stay in this business, I have a certain image I have to project. I don’t like doing it, he told me as he sat on our couch, the lipstick of some sleazy lap dancer smeared all over his face, and worse, on the tail of his shirt, which was hanging half out of his pants. But it’s expected in this business. If I stayed home and played the dutiful husband, my clients wouldn’t respect me.

This business was show business. Frank was an agent to the stars. Not little stars, either, but some of the biggest guns in the industry. And I knew some of what he said was true. Show business was all about the facade. Depth of character and whatever was behind the mask didn’t count. All that mattered was what looked good in front of the camera. That and apparently lap dances and blow jobs.

I just hoped the dancers were all women. Though in this industry, who knew? Hell, maybe it would be better if they were men.

That was the night the straw broke the camel’s back. I turned and went into our bedroom, slamming the door behind me. By the time Frank came in a while later, I had my bags packed.

Going to your mom’s? He leaned against the doorframe. He was more than a little drunk, another aspect of his career that killed part of me every time I witnessed it. I was terrified he was becoming an alcoholic.

For tonight. Tomorrow? Who knows?

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was still as thick as it was when he was younger. "Well, call if you want