Notes: The story and characters are all mine.

Part 1:

Camouflage isn't just something that soldiers do when they're in the middle of some jungle or desert. People do it every day when they go to work, hang out with friends, spend quality time with their family. It's easy, it helps us blend in, skim under the radar, unnoticed, unseen.
Look at me… 6 feet tall of womanhood, high breasts which look like they've been worked but are all me, legs that stretch from here to eternity, an ass you could bounce a roll of quarters off of, pale green eyes you could drown into like a wading pool, beautiful black hair that pretty much does whatever I want. And when I dress to impress, trust me, I do.
But right now, I don't dress to impress. I dress to disappear and I do. How? Easy… I wear flat shoes, the sensible kind, I never wear pants or skirts or dresses that go anywhere above my ankles, I hide my ass with boxy jackets that also squeezes down my boobs, cover my eyes with contacts and glasses and I actually hide all of my hair under a greasy and disgusting brown wig.
Why go through all the trouble? Because I want to hide, because I don't want to be found. Not yet at least. I have reasons and I'm not in the mood to explain them right now. Because right now, while I was going over how invisible I can manage to be, I'm supposed to be reading another historical romance novel, which I actually enjoy, while having another lonely meal in the huge office cafeteria. And damn, I enjoy my lonely bookworm persona. It avoids having to chat with the data entry obsessed people I work with. I mean, yeah, it is easy work but give me a break… talking about all the variations you encounter in one morning? Shoot me in the head, why don't you? But too soon, lunch is over and up the three flights of stairs I go back to my little cubicle and I start typing information. Then, rarity of rarities, my phone rings.
"Ann Borden."
"Ann, this is Maxine from accounting."
"What can I do for you?"
"Yeah, well, I'm looking at some of the data you entered for us and it's completely illogical. The information simply isn't computing."
"Which file are you talking about?"
"The GH85492."
"Let me have a look."
God how I hate this job. I've hated it since the first day and I wish I could let loose and tell them to stuff it! Five years and counting and I know I have to hold on for the same reasons I have to do the camouflage thing… God, how I hate my life… well, not my real life, just this one.
"All right," I finally say, scanning over the files. "Here's the thing Maxine. I didn't enter this data."
"Yes you did."
"No, I didn't."
"You're telling me that's not your ID number at the bottom of the spreadsheet?"
"That's right."
"You're not VMR5562?"
"I'm VMR5652."
"I just looked up your file. You are VMR5562."
"Maxine, I think I know my own code."
"One would think so but we don't hire data entry clerks for their smarts."
I close my eyes and start doing the counting thing… you know, all the way to ten so you don't lose your temper? Yeah well, it's a bunch of bullshit.
"Evidently, accounting has lower standards."
"What? Well, I'll be…"
A bitch? Damn, I want to say it to her, I so want to…
BZZZZZ… I check the old, bulky pager at my waist and look at the incoming message: 88-88-88-88-88. This is it! The message I've been waiting for. It's been five years. And it's finally here!!!
"Ann? Are you still there?"
"Yeah. And you know what Maxine, you're nothing but a bitch with a stick that stuck way too high up her ass."
"Excuse me?"
"You, stick, ass, it's not hard to comprehend."
"I'm having you fired."
"I'm going to be waiting…"
I hang up the phone and barely notice my coworkers as they stare at me.
"You should all do the same," I tell them as I walk out. Feels hella good. And Walter, bathe, on a daily basis, with water and soap. Even Drakkar Noir can't cover up the stench emanating from your unwashed body. And let me tell you, it stinks!"
Snickers follow me to the elevator. I press the button for the executive one and step in, pressing the button for the lobby. I step out and see about twenty people trooped in front of the bay windows, looking outside. I try to hide my trepidation as I walk toward the front door.
"Miss," a security guard tells me, "if you're not in a hurry, might I suggest you wait a little before leaving the building, it's not exactly safe out there."
"Babe, what's not safe for you is more than safe enough for me."
With a laugh, I sweep out those doors and I saw the thirty-some bikes lined up in front of the building. And then I see him, all tall and long and pure muscle and I melt. It's him, Baron and me, I'm his, I'm Baron's Bitch.

Part 2:

Baron… it's a title he took on and it fits him perfectly. He acts like fucking royalty… well, not really but those of us who do know him treat him as such. Why? Because he has that charisma, that personality… that aura that can make me just want to curl my body around his and just purr.
"You got my page," he says.
"Yeah."
"Love how quickly you come to me."
"It's a thing…"
"You look like shit, by the way."
"Yeah well, trick of the trade."
He nods and within seconds, the four of his biggest guys surround us, holding blankets in front of me, blocking the view of unwanted watchers.
"Strip."
And I do. Within a minute or so, I'm standing there in front of him, not a stitch on.
"Wig."
And my natural locks are free and tumbling down my bare back. Baron looks me over and pulls out a bandanna from his back pocket. He spins me around and rubs the make up on both of my arms.
"Now that's my bitch," he says with an appreciative smile as he uncovers the tattoos that spell out my designation, Baron's Bitch, on both of my upper arms.
"I love being your bitch."
"Clothes!"
Someone hands him a saddlebag and he opens it. I want to squeal when I see the precious goods inside. I pull on the brown leather pants that expose an inch of skin all the way down my outer legs without any panties and squeeze my breasts into a tight matching vest.
"I think that's what I missed the most about you," Baron says, slipping his hand into my top to finger my nipples, "your fucking tits!"
"You're the most romantic asshole."
"Ain't I just?"
"Oh yeah."
I let him pull me in for a long kiss. His studded tongue takes my mouth, plundering, ravaging and pillaging, only I'm not fighting back. I've been thirsting for him for so long, it's not even funny anymore. Finally, I climb off him and pull away. And from the haunted look in his eyes, Baron really has missed his bitch.
"You ready to go?"
"Just one more thing."
I bend over, giving his crotch a feel of my ass, and I rummage through my clothes for my work ID card.
"Did you bring my baby?" I ask, fingering the magnetized ID card.
"Sure did."
Baron snaps his fingers and the guys holding up the blankets get out of my way and Darren, Baron's little bro, hands me my baby, an lightweight aluminum bow, custom-fitted just for me. The arrows are already set on it. I select a blunted rubber tip with a wooden cap and set it into position while handing the card to Baron.
"Airborne," I say simply.
Grinning like a deliciously demented man, he throws it up in the air and I take my aim. The arrow flashes through the air, pierces the card and hits the glass right in front of Maxine, the accounting bitch. I see her jump back and glare at me angrily. Then I watch as her eyes scan over the laughing bikers before settling on Baron.
And I read it in her eyes, she goes into full predatorial female mode, judging him and herself, trying to figure out how long it'd take to get him into bed. Women do that around him, he's got that kind of appeal. What can I say? My fucking man is hot! Six feet four of raw male, long black hair that looks like the back of a raven's wing, eyes the color of whiskey you can get drunk in and a package that's just… that damn good… But guess what? He's mine and no way I'm going to let some stuck up accounting bitch think she's got a chance of making him raise the flag.
So, while she's still watching him, actually devouring him with his eyes, I hand Darren back my bow before I move behind Baron and snake my arms around his torso, sliding my fingers under his black Harley tee shirt. I finger his nipples for a few moments then move south to his dick and balls, which happen to be riding his black jeans commando. I stroke him slow, remembering he's a full ten inches and very knowledgeable of all his possibilities. As I put on my little show, I look Maxine straight in the eyes, daring her to look away. Once she does, I pull away from Baron, my point made.
"Why do I have a feeling you don't like that little bitch you just put on that show for?" he asks as he leans over to bite my lobe.
"She fired me today."
"Is that all?"
"Hey!"
"I'm sorry baby. Wanna know something?"
"What?" I pout.
"I'll never fire you."
"Aw, that's nice…"
"Where else will I get a chick with such a perfect set of tits and ass and such a dead on height for me?" he chuckles.
"Asshole."
"And you love me that way. We ride!" he shouts as he tosses me over his massive shoulder.
You know, any other guy who would have tried treating me that way would have gotten a beat down. Hell, I am something of a feminist. But with Baron, I don't know. With him, the thought of being dragged back to his cage by the root of my hair? Not totally unappealing…
Anyhow, I end up on the back of his bike, helmet on, legs wrapped around his waist as we get the fuck out of there. It's really late when we stop. We've been on the road for about six hours and my butt is fucking sore. Not riding for six years will do that to you. We stop at this big house and out comes this big guy, about an inch taller than Baron. I recognize him and run to him.
"Igor! You fucking fat bastard!"
"Bitch! Always got such a nice mouth on ya, don't ya?"
"Hell yeah, that's what you love about me."
"Don't I ever! Come on in."
Inside the house, I check out the chick in the kitchen. She's typical of these kinds of places we stay at to avoid hotels and stuff. Blonde, wearing not much of anything and eyeing everything with breasts with a definite spirit of competition. She checks me out and dismisses me. Chicks like her do that a lot… they don't think much of me. I'm too big, too independent, too self-sufficient to be a threat. Men like busty little defenseless women like them, right? We'll see. I plop down on Igor's big lap and we start catching up, mostly me getting news. I've been out of the life for five years and things have been happening.
"Baron!"
Lazily, I turn around to see the little ball of blonde pretty much jump my guy who, interestingly enough, doesn't push her away. Igor chuckles as I watch her try to jump to kiss baron's mouth, who's really not cooperating, just content to be the one close enough to see her breasts spill out of her top.
"I knew you were going to come back," she squeals as she wraps her arms around his waist. "I knew it! And I've got my papers and I'll be ready to leave by morning and…"
"Leave?" Igor asks. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Well, I'm going on the road with Baron of course."
"Of course? Baron?"
He looks to me and Igor, his face impassible. He seems to be getting more than just a little annoyed at the clingy chick. I get up and walk over.
"Hands off," I whisper.
"This is a private matter between…"
"You and my boyfriend? I don't think so."
"Your boyfriend? He didn't feel much like your boyfriend last night."
"Yeah and I'll bet that he wouldn't have remembered your face if we hadn't swung by again out of respect for Igor. Now, get your hands off him before I make you."
"Please… you're telling me he'd pick you over me?"
"I'm telling he doesn't get to pick. I do. Now hands off!"
She turns her body to face me and then, she tries to be erotic or something and reaches down to cup his dick. Dumb move!
Something about her touching him to taunt me rubs me the wrong way and she finds that out when I wrap my hand around her neck and send her flying into a wall. She lands with a thud and I walk over to her, keeping her in her rightful place by stepping over her long blond hair.
"Last night, he wasn't mine again. But now he is. And trust me, you were Baron's dime lay for the night. Me, I'm his bitch, now and forever. It's been ten years and trust me, you're not enough to fuck that up."
I walk away and follow Baron up the stairs to our room. On the way, I hear Igor backhand her when she badmouths me and I smile when I hear the smack of skin against skin. What can I say? After ten years, it's fucking annoying to still have to fight off groupies. In the room, Baron just grabs me and tosses me on the bed, tearing off my fucking clothes.
"That get you hot baby?" I pant as I watching him tear off his skin-tight tee shirt.
"Fuck! Do you know how long it's been since a woman took on another woman for me and made me want her?"
"How long?"
"Since you."
As he says that, he enters me and fucks me until I can't see straight anymore. And you know what, for the past five years, I've been doing everything the straight way. Right now, with Baron fucking me, I know that my life's about to go crooked for the first time in five long years and damn it, I can't wait.
Now, I guess you're all dying to know how I got to be Baron's bitch… maybe I should fucking explain…

Part 3:

You ever been mad pissed at someone? I mean mad enough to actually to kill someone dead and revel in the end of their lives. Well my relationship with my mother was very much like that. Was being the operative word since I haven't seen her in ages and I don't miss her one bit. What can I say? I hate the chick with a passion. Yeah she gave me life but she didn't give me much else. Dated a bunch of losers who got a charge out of beating the crap out of us and some got off from sticking shit like fingers and dicks up a little kid's pussy. And she let them do it. Actually used to come into my room while they were doing their shit and tell me to quit crying because no one liked crybabies. Dumb crack whore.
But I got her good though. One day after I hit my growth and I got to be about five inches or so taller than her, I got a knife from the kitchen and stabbed both her and her latest boyfriend while they were going at it. Nothing life-threatening mind you but enough for them to learn their place and not touch me again. I split after that. I went to live with her sister, another psycho who thought fucking aliens and the CIA were after her, but she left me the fuck alone. Not that I really stayed alone for long.
Yeah, I fucked around. What else was I supposed to do to pass the time? It was one of those things I enjoyed. School was all right but it had its bad moments. I had a reputation for being way easy but I didn't care about that. Sticks and stones, you know? But the shit really hit the fan when my mother got arrested for soliciting a cop who happened to have a son and daughter in my high school.
Now, the son couldn't really badmouth me since he was using me as a cover to go fuck one of my little male cousins who enjoyed that shit, literally. But his sister… man, that little twit had a ball. At first, she'd be coy about her stuff, wouldn't say anything to my face but I heard the comments. But I didn't react. No skin off my back you know? I still got laid and that was all that I needed. Then her boyfriend started sniffing around me. Apparently chick was a tad on the frigid side in the boudoir and since I wasn't, boyfriend and I got along just great. Until she walked in on us in the girls' locker room. He could have probably calmed her down, dick in my pussy and all but since she was with her cheerleading cronies, pride won over common sense.
As of that moment, she started being overt with her insults. She'd shout things out in the hallway or make snide comments in class. And the teachers did shit, probably because they figured all the stuff spewing out of her mouth was true. But slowly, it started getting to me, especially when the little bitch started saying that I would end up like my mother, probably selling my kids to the highest bidder. That really got to me… and yet, I kept quiet and didn't lose my temper. Then, one day, she went too far.
We were sitting in history class, getting tests back. Now, I didn't care shit for history or anything else but I've got this photographic memory thing so even when I don't bother taking notes or studying, I just know the answer. So I score high. Not because I want to because getting everything wrong would just get on my nerves and they'd make me talk with the guidance counselor, right? Anyhow, this chick started ragging on how I got a higher score than her, on how I must have slept with the teach to get a higher mark, how it had probably ended up in a gang bang with my mother. We were sitting in class when she started saying this shit while the teacher went to the office to get something. She actually came to stand in front of my desk to spew all of her shit. Then, when I still wouldn't let her get to me, she leaned over my desk and got real close to my face.
"Cock got your tongue?"
That's when I lost control. I grabbed scissors from another chick's desk and I pushed her down on the floor and I started hacking away at her pride and joy, her long blond hair, specially up in the front where it would do the most damage. I don't know how I got pulled off her but by the time I did, she was wheezing from how hard I'd been squeezing her ribs with my thighs. She looked like shit! Her hair was really short up in front and in uneven clumps close to her ears. Her make up running down her cheeks made her look like some freak clown and her hair… damn… I think I cut some of her scalp off cause she was bleeding some close to her head and her hair wouldn't look right for a good long while, that's for fucking sure! By the time they got some of the security guards to drag me out of there, I was laughing at her so fucking hard my stomach was cramping.
Well, that kind of got me expelled. Some shit about attacking her being wrong or something. And I was either getting kicked out of school or arrested for assault. They figured I'd be better off on the streets than in jail. Bleeding hearts liberals had no clue. I figured I'd finally gotten lucky. I'd get a job and move out of my aunt's place and not have to give a fuck about anything or anybody.
Well, guess what I found out? Nobody's going to hire you if you don't have experience and the fuckers don't seem to realize that if they don't give me the experience, I can't get the experience, you know? Anyhow, the only job I was good for was stripper. Men have these dumb fantasies about fucking women who are taller than they are and me with my six feet, well, damn did they ever want to fuck me. I did that for a while too, let them fuck me. It wasn't all bad as far as jobs go. It wasn't good either mind you. Some of these guys act like they were hard up for cash, like they couldn't pay more than twenty bucks for a fucking blow job and I was good! Lousy cheapskates.
Anyhow, one night, I was walking to my place when one of my usuals started driving beside me. It was late, I was tired, the customers had been cheaper than usual, barely helping me break two hundred bucks, and I wanted to go home. Alone. I wasn't up for a quick grab and fuck in the back seat of his Celica and I told him so. Only, he wasn't getting it. He cut me off and got out of the car, knife in hand. Now you live on the street and you learn a few things. In my business, a guy with a knife is never good because scars diminish your take. Men'd rather fuck the ugly whore with the unblemished skin than the one with the perfect tits and the scar across her face.
So I started doing the purring thing and undoing my top to calm him down, right? He came at me, knife still in hand, and his fingers got a little slack, like his drooling mouth… ugh! Anyhow, I let him come closer and when he did, I grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the gut. Yeah, might have been a little extreme but I got tired of it, you know? In the club, I was their fantasy, their mother, their sister, their daughter, their boss, whoever. But the moment I stepped outside, the fantasy ended. I belonged to myself out there, not to them and they didn't always get that. He wasn't the first one to think he could love me enough to let me leave the life but he didn't get it… none of them did.
I guess I was tired of a lot of it… some kind of victim's revenge I guess. But no, that's not it… I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him… I guess that means I've got murderous tendencies right? Not even. I wanted to know what it felt like to kill. And to be honest, ain't that big a thrill. Sure, there's that moment when he looks at you and he knows that you ended his life, that you played God with his destiny and won but people shit when they die like this… shit a lot and damn it stinks…
I was standing there, looking at him, all dying and stuff, and I saw my hands, which were all bloody and stuff and I realized that I was stuck. I was now a murderer… scary…
"You fucked up," a voice said behind me.
"Huh?" I turned around and saw these yellow eyes staring a whole into me.
"Killing him here like this. That was dumb…"
"I…"
"Listen, you need help to get out of your mess. You want it or not?"
"What do you want?"
"I need a bitch."
He said it… the first guy who actually said the words: I want a bitch… appealingly honest…
"And what makes you think…"
"Listen, you need out of this situation before the cops get here. It's not or never. I can help you. Or you can because Bertha's bitch," he chuckled.
I pondered for a moment and then I shrugged. What the fuck did I have to lose except my life and my freedom?
"Fine," I finally relented. "Help me."
"About time. Darren, dispose of the body."
A man came out of the shadows… not the one with the yellow eyes. He felt different. He walked by me and picked up the body. Then, another man came up to me… his eyes… not quite yellow but more gold, you know.
"I'm Baron," he said, looking down at me.
"Cool name. I'm…"
"As of now, you're my bitch, Baron's bitch. The rest doesn't matter."

Part 4:

The moment I agreed to let Baron help, I lost control. I was kind of thrown into the backseat of a car with tinted windows by myself while him and his brother talked outside. I watched them move around for a bit and then, I don't know. I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was lying in a bed, curled up into a tight little ball. I sat up and looked around. This place was nice! I mean, thick rug, mirrors, the kind of stuff from movies. I got a look of myself in the mirror and I scared myself. Must have slept for a good six, seven hours because I could see pillow prints all over my face.
I was rubbing my cheek when Baron came in. Last night, out on that street, all I'd seen were his yellow eyes but now, in daylight. fucking shit, this dude was hot! He was tall, which was good since I was about six feet tall, and he had this look about him. he looked primitive. like he'd have been more comfortable in the Wild West shooting down whoever got in his way. His skin was dark, somewhere between Black and White but not Mulatto. Boy was Indian. or Native American. whatever. He had those high, telltale cheekbones and his face was drawn in sharp lines that melded perfectly.
But he had some White blood in him, I could tell from his eyes. And his body, under those blue jeans and tee-shirt, was hard and lean, like an animal. sleek and long and powerful. damn. I'd do him for free.
And I did. For the next week, he taught me what being his bitch truly meant. I got to fuck him in every position we could get into and it really didn't matter where we were and what we were doing. When he wanted it, he got it. And considering the man was a fucking god, literally and figuratively, it's not like I really objected. He was that good. One thing he was really stuck on was how I dressed. He didn't want me to dress like a slut or a whore but he wanted me to dress almost exclusively in leather and in a very revealing way. Low cut tops, mini-skirts, shorts, tight pants, I made it all work. At first, I minded but then I got into it. Especially when he took me aside to explain why he dressed me that way.
See, most of the guys he did business with were male chauvinistic pigs and they didn't think much of women unless they proved them differently. Now the goal wasn't for me to prove anything, but to listen and remember everything they said. I was also to look at their body language and analyze it, especially when the meets took place on neutral territory when Baron couldn't set up cameras to observe things later.
So I'd just sit there and do the dumbest things like file my nails and check out lingerie catalogs while watching their body language. It really amazed me at first how much one can learn about people from the way they move their bodies. And these guys, considering what they dealt in, you'd have thought they would have been more careful. But they weren't. And with my help, Baron was able to rid himself of a few of them before they did the same thing to him.
His power base finally established, my role as his bitch changed. He thought me about what he did. I still remember the looks on his partners' faces the first time he looked to me to confirm one of his decision. When I shook my head, indicating that I thought the deal was bad, some of them scoffed, actually asking why my opinion would matter since I was nothing but a dumb bitch. Baron's answer still makes me feel tingly to this day.
"Sure she is," he said as he gestured for me to stand next to him, "but she's my bitch."
As of that day, things changed, and I mean drastically. Apparently, my decision to refuse the deal to carry the ten idiots that were going to be sold to this Iranian sheik proved to be fortuitous since a CIA covert ops caught the transport and traced it back to Baron's former partner. The deal cost him his precarious freedom and over 10 millions. Little did I know that Baron himself had tipped off the feds himself to increase my worth.
What also changed was our relationship. In the year that we'd been together, he had completely and totally dominated me and my personality.
But slowly, he started treating me more and more like a person than as his bitch. Like the day he taught me how to shoot a gun. He laughed with me. For the very first time since he found me on that street, that knife in my hand, he laughed with me.
I jerked in his arms, holding the gun down like he'd taught me, turning to stare at him.
"What was that?" I'd asked him.
"What was what?"
"The sound that came from your lips. It vaguely resembled laughter but from you, it's highly doubtful."
"I laugh," he'd said with a light chuckle.
"Never with me." I'd turned back to the range, getting my target in sight. Baron moved behind me, realigning my arms with the target, leaning close until his lips were at my ear.
"I'll make you laugh if you want me too. do you want me to?"
I took my shot before turning to him. "What's going on with you? First you teach me how to shoot a gun, now you want to make me laugh? Are you preparing me for life after you dump me Baron?"
He hadn't said anything after that. I finished off my round and we went back to the hotel. Baron had another surprise in store for me. He had a new set of clothes for me. Still leather, still sexy, but they didn't show half the skin my previous wardrobe. We're talking actual pants here and long skirts and long sleeved tops and shit, and some undies, bona fide panties and bras that had crotches and nipple covers. I was in shock.
"What the fuck is the matter with you Baron?"
"I read your sealed file from your high school."
"What the fuck is your point?"
"You got into your fair share of trouble Mary-Ellen Patton."
Hearing him say my name made me twitch. Where the fuck did he get off? "So?"
"First fight in the first grade, broke a second grader's nose. After that, you were the one who got hurt, three broken arms and almost lost an eye when someone threw a rock at you."
"What the fuck does any of this shit matter?"
"It matters because you're a bad ass. Remember that girl you gave that little hair cut to?"
"Yeah," I'd chuckled at that. That had been my crowning accomplishment, literally.
"Well, seems like she never got over the fact that you cut her hair so she's been sporting something like a crew cut ever since."
"You are shitting me!"
"I've got pictures."
I'd run over to him and plucked the photographs right out of his hands, devouring the sight of that former cheerleading snob with nothing more than an inch of hair on her head.
"This is fucking great," I'd shouted, not realizing that Baron had pulled me into his lap. "I fucking scared her straight! I fucking rock."
"Yeah, you do."
God, he was getting lovey dovey again.
"Baron!"
"What?"
"What is with you? Fucking shit guy! You switch roles on me from one day to the next. What are you? My lover, my master? What?"
"You've been my bitch for the past year and it's boring now."
"So?"
"I'd rather have a part... a baroness if you will."
"No way!"
"Way," he said flatly.
"You don't want a fucking baroness. You want a prissy little bitch who'll jump when you say jump and let you finger fuck her when you're having a meeting with your asshole chauvinist partners."
"Yeah and I had that and you played the part to fucking perfection."
"So?"
"I told you. I'm bored."
"Why's that my problem?"
"Because I don't trust anyone else but you."
"What about your brother?"
That was a dumb question. If anyone was after Baron's money and influence, it was Darren. But the little shit was playing a smart game. And Baron was letting him play his game until the perfect moment to let him hang himself.
"Dumb question," I told him. "But what do you really want?"
"Truth?"
"No idiot, lie to me."
"A partner. A real one. Someone who I will trust with my fucking life."
"And what does your partner get in return?"
"Same thing I get, a person who they can trust with their lives, no matter what."
I looked Baron in the eye and I thought for a moment. There could be worse things, I figured.
"And the rest of your shit?" I asked. "We share every-fucking-thing."
"Every-fucking-thing. I'll give you full access to my banking shit, my passwords, account numbers and stuff."
"Well, I have a few of them memorized from doing business for you."
"Those are the shells," Baron said softly, "and that money's peanuts, which is why I don't mind Darren skimming off the top so much. He ain't getting away with even one percent."
"For real?"
"For real. Tomorrow, you and me, we're going to Switzerland."
That trip to Europe ended up lasting two months. And let me tell you, I learned a lot. Baron did a lot of illegal, dangerous shit. And I loved that. I got off on the danger, on the thrill of maybe getting caught. But he also had some legal business, major bill-making business. I'm talking the man had so much money that we actually made love in a tub filled with his cash. And I'm not talking dollar bills here. I'm talking big bills too!
But I got to learn about more than just his business there too. I got to know how to use any kind of weapon. I got to know how to dress for any occasion and I got to get this social polish to know how to act in any situation and pretend I was classy. I only saw Baron when it came time for him to teach me about his business and at night when he started to teach me how to make love to him.
You know, if a couple of people like us could feel anything like love, I think that's what we felt for each other right then and there. Love. Fucked up people like us. Who would have guessed, who would have known?
Anyhow, by the time we made it back to Vegas, Baron's major place of business in the States, Darren had set himself as the boss and Baron be damned. It was a bold move and I was ready to spit I was so angry. But Baron took it all in stride, observing Darren's handy work.
"Glad you looked after things for me brother."
"It wasn't a problem. You took care of all of your business in Europe?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"You ever gonna tell me about your European stuff?"
"Nothing to tell really since I closed everything down in Europe."
"You did?"
"Yeah. They weren't bringing in enough."
"Oh all right."
While Darren caught Baron up on business, I watched the changes around the room. Mostly on the paintings. Baron had originals when we left. But these babies. they weren't the same ones. These babies were fakes. The little shit had the guts to come into our private suite and switch paintings.
That was too fucking much. I hopped into the kitchen and got a cleaver, one of those big butcher knives. Then I came back into the living room and walked around the couch and grabbed Darren's right hand, taking off the tip of his little finger. He squealed worse than the bitch whose hair I'd cut and I figured that to be about. She'd only lost her hair. Then I grabbed his finger and stuck it into my mouth, licking up all the blood, sucking up the blood and on his finger until it started to hurt him. Baron didn't say anything, he just watched.
"Baron darling," I purred, "be a dear and get me some salt from the kitchen?"
"Of course."
"Now you," I told Darren, who was weeping like a baby. "The next time you try fucking your brother over, it's not him you're going to have to deal with, it's me. And I don't have any of that nagging family loyalty shit to hold me back."
"Baron! She fucking cut off my finger man!" he wept.
"Yeah, she did. And that's fine by me. As of now, whatever you need goes through her. And you try skimming from the top ever again, I'm not going to stop her from killing you if that's what it takes, all right?"
Darren looked from me to Baron and from the smell, he shit in his pants.
And damn if that didn't feel damn good.

Part 5:

God, can I tell you the power got to me after that? Is power an aphrodisiac? Fuck yeah! Baron's always on top of me, fucking my brains out, especially after I strut my stuff. My little incident with Darren made waves and at first, Baron's business associates just thought I was something of a freak.
But I'm not. These guys don't give two shits about women or our brains.
We're there to fuck and take beatings. Well, not me. And Baron agrees. Since he gave me my head, I've been a total animal in the sack. There are times when I'm so hot for him, I just grab him and do him. And when I'm done with him, I just leave him there. When I do that, he says I've fucked him, not the other way around.
As for beating me up... anyone of these guys can try to lay a hand on me. Chances are that Baron will actually get up and lay their asses out for even trying. And if he doesn't, I've become fond of knives. They're easy to carry and I like the look on the bastards' faces when I pull one out.
But don't get me wrong. I'm a bad ass but even I'm wrong every once in a while. And I hate it but it happens, you know? I don't like being wrong but then I do something I know I can't get wrong and I feel better about everything. Anyhow, it's a fucking trip, living on this side of the law.
Working the casino is the best. People are greedy and liars and I love nothing more than catching them trying to rob us blind. I love sticking it to them, regardless of the fact that I'm no better than they are, just smarter at the game.
But Baron... you know, he wasn't always a fancy corporate dude. He started out on bikes and that's the shit he loves. And I love it too. I don't drive but I love riding with him. I either sit behind him or in front of him and just let the wind go through my hair, over my face. There's nothing like hitting that long, long stretch of highway in the desert outside of Las Vegas. On the right day, it'll be sunny out and the sun will burn your skin to a fucking crisp. The air'll be dry and clean and it's just you and the open road.
Well, just us... that's not very true. Baron and I, there are quite a few people who's like to see us dead since we fuck them over. So when we go out, it's with Darren, cause the little piece of shit, even with the tip of his little finger cut off, can't be trusted. We caught him skimming again. He thought he was being slick, taking it on himself to shake down some of our old time customers who were a bit over their credit limit. This time, it was Baron who got his hands on him and let me tell you, Darren might get cured just yet. I think his brother put the fucking fear of God in him.
Another cool thing is meeting Baron's buds from his biker days. To tell you the truth, they're ugly. They're fat and have the most disgusting habits but once you're one of them, fuck, are you ever one of them. I love them, bushy beards and all. And they love me. Why? First of all, I'm one of those take-charge women that don't give them any headaches. Two, I'm with Baron. the second I had his seal of approval, I could do no wrong. Three, I'm fucking hot! But there's also a brotherhood between there that just surprises the hell out of me. It's kind of sweet.
Their chicks I can do without though. Fucking annoying twits draping themselves all over Baron the second I get up. And the sad part is, they can't believe he'd want to fuck me over any of them. On the other hand, it's not like Baron's stopping them from pawing him. He gets off on it. What man wouldn't? There's always a hand on his dick... or a pair of lips, both kinds. And don't expect me to stop him. Baron, he's my guy. He's happy, I'm happy. And he knows... they're temporary pastimes... like all the cute golf pros and tennis pros and swimming instructors and bellboys that go through my bed. Baron knows about them and he doesn't mind... joined us a few times. It's all good. At least the guys get it... it's not forever... it's one night, a few hours.
Take this little twit for example. Cute little redhead, nice tits, good ass. Think she's a runaway or some shit, I don't care. Second we hit the bar, she was on Baron. Me, I didn't care. There were a pair of cute businessmen who'd gotten lost on the way and I was flirting like crazy. But this time, I wasn't going to fuck them. And Baron wasn't going to fuck his twit. We'd been experimenting with Tantric sex and the goal was for us to get turned on and not do anything about it. Finally, the evening winded down and I sent my boys on their way, unsatisfied. I found Baron in a booth, the redhead trying to climb into his lap.
"Baron," I said, "let's go to bed."
"Sorry but he's coming to my bed tonight."
"Sure he is," I said sarcastically, "You ready to go?"
"Yeah."
"Wait!" The twit grabbed Baron and her nails sunk into his arms and she scratched him. There was actual blood. Baron went so cold, it wasn't funny anymore. He backhanded the girl so hard, I wouldn't have wanted to be on the other end of that hit.
"Never, ever, touch me. My blood is not for little sluts like you to spill."
"B-b-b-but..."
"Did I tell you I was spending the night with you?"
"N-n-n-n-no..."
"Did I lead you to believe there would be anything at all between you and me?"
"B-b-b-but Baron..."
"No! See that chick right there? That's my bitch and you ain't even worth licking the sole of her boot."
With that, Baron and I walked out. Apparently, the bitch had a little tantrum after that but no skin off our backs. You know, in some weird, really fucked up way, I think we were in love but it's not being in love like Cinderella or anything. It was fucked up and weird and totally us.
And life went pretty great like that for a good four years. But then the shit hit the fan, thanks to no one but Darren. Did I tell you that boy was a fuck up? He actually planned a heist. He was planning on scoring one big hit on the casino with a full team. Freakin' asshole! One of the guys working the heist came to Baron and filled him in. We were waiting for Darren and company when they broke into the safe. And just my luck, one of the cameras feeding right to the police caught me just as I was about to skin off the boy's eye.
I was fucking arrested for the attempted murder of a little piece of ass lint who'd tried robbing us. Would you fucking believe it? I was ticked off and it took Baron's lawyers a lot of fast taking to get me off on bail. By then, Baron had shaken Darren down and he was withdrawing his testimony. But me, since the cops wanted to nail me, I had to disappear. I knew it, Baron knew it and neither of us wanted that. My leaving would mean that Baron wouldn't have a partner anymore and that was the last thing any of us wanted. Naturally, Darren, ever the nice brother would try stepping into my shoes but Baron won't let him. We planned it alone, my disappearance. We couldn't afford to have anyone find out I was leaving. It happened in the middle of the night with nothing but a bunch of cash and a pager. Baron and I had agreed on a code. He would come for me.

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