Free Power Couple by Allison Hobbs Page A

the role of a hell-raising madam. My mother and aunt, however, didn’t find it funny. They loathed being reminded that their fine educations and refined ways had been purchased with whorehouse money.
    In her final year, as her mental status seriously began to decline, Grandma Eula Mae no longer recognized any member of the family. She mistook my cousins, our mothers, and me as being part of her stable of whores. She would unleash scathing recriminations upon us, her words generously peppered with the vilest profanity I’d ever heard. From listening to my grandmother, I had learned to curse like a sailor, and therefore, Josh was lucky that I’d only given him the finger as I made my way to my dressing room.
    If he talked to me one more time out the side of his neck, he was going to get cursed out, Grandma Eula Mae-style.
    Gina was inside my dressing room waiting for me. “Morning, Cori. How you feeling?” she asked as she pulled out a flat-iron from her overstuffed work bag.
    To be honest, my life sucks! My husband wants to bite a Russian bitch’s pussy on a regular basis and additionally, he wants me to participate in the freak show. He wants me to lay back and watch while she licks my cooch juice off his balls.
    If I had told Gina the truth about how I was feeling, she would have possibly fainted. So, I simply said, “I’m not having a good day, thanks to that prissy bitch, Josh. It would behoove him to keep his distance from me, today.”
    Not wanting to get in the middle of beef between Josh and me, Gina wisely refrained from commenting and merely murmured a sound of understanding. As she worked on my hair, Clayton tapped on the door and came in.
    â€œSorry to barge in on you, Cori, but Josh is having a hissy fit. He said he needs you on the set ASAP. He wants me to get started on your makeup right away.”
    I didn’t like having two people working on me at the same time, but not having a legitimate excuse to go against Josh’s wishes, I sighed and nodded in solemn acceptance.
    While Gina and Clayton hovered over me with curling irons, makeup brushes, and other beauty tools, my thoughts wandered back to my marital problems. Before I’d left for work this morning, Maverick had confided that he felt completely obsessed with the idea of unleashing his inner freak on Katya. It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that he get psychiatric treatment, but after giving the idea a little more thought, I changed my mind.
    We were part of a culture where surgeons and well-respected medical doctors were known to snap selfies while posing with celebrities who were lying unconscious on operating tables, and there was no way I could trust that a psychiatrist wouldn’t run to TMZ with Maverick’s perverted sex secrets. If word got out that the beloved, All-American golden boy, Maverick Brown, was going around leaving teeth marks all over a hooker’s body, his career would beover. And there was no doubt in my mind that my reputation would be tarnished along with his. As much as I loved Maverick, I wasn’t willing to go down with his sinking ship.
    In retrospect, I wished I hadn’t selected Katya from the dozens of photos that the escort agency provided on their website. I didn’t like the bitch’s Siberian husky eyes, and I should have followed my gut instinct and skipped past her photo. It took a really demented bitch to encourage a man to put teeth imprints all over her body and beg him to treat her like she was literally a piece of meat.
    Never in a million years would I have imagined that my husband had some sort of carnivorous fetish. Maybe his proclivity toward biting had something to do with our vegetarian lifestyle. Perhaps if I reintroduced meat back into our diet, Maverick would get over his newfound biting obsession.
    There was a knock on my dressing room door.
    â€œSee who it is and get rid of ’em,” I ordered.
    Clayton and Gina both