A desperate woman invites three eager men to partake in an unconventional evening of debauchery and lust. However, her ultimate goal is her bid for freedom from a miserable marriage. She decides that being a Skank does come with a few advantages.
Carmen was so tired of living a lie. Born dirt poor into a family that was the poster child for modern dysfunctional, she’d always heard her mother stress that her ticket out of this corner of hell was to marry a man with money…a lot of it.
She never forgot her mother’s sage, lopsided advice, and now, many years later, Carmen stood in her New York penthouse overlooking the landscape of the city. She pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. She had accomplished all her goals except one. Her freedom.
Kennedy Powers had been the man of her dreams, her ticket out of hell. Now he was the monster in her living nightmare. He was cool, financially strong, and wore the face of an angelic savior in public. But behind closed doors, he had the contorted evil visage of a real demon—her husband, her dictator, her only obstacle to her freedom.
He was a successful real estate broker with a warped taste for dominance and brutality. Carmen had known rough men in her life, but Kennedy was a whole other level. As his wife, she had experienced the madness more than most.
Once, early in their marriage, she had approached him with the idea of ending their marriage. He had grabbed an old newspaper, rolled it up, hit her upside the head like a dog and then went on to beat her to within an inch of her life. He had grunted and shouted that he would see her dead before she ever had the chance to walk away from him. The humiliation of that beating still clung to her like wet toilet paper.
She shivered at the window now, remembering the words he had hissed in her ear. “You, Carmen, are nothing without me. You represent a great investment of time and training. You are a status symbol of my achievements in life.”
She shook off those words and composed herself. After six years of physical, emotional and verbal abuse, she knew Kennedy would never let her go unless he had a damn good reason to. Carmen had decided the only way to escape her husband was with the only weapon she possessed—a woman’s revenge.
“Carmen,” Kennedy called. “I see you have been behaving yourself this week.” He glanced at her. “You’re wearing the dress I placed out for you.”
Inspecting her appearance in the mirror, Carmen thought the dress he chose was beautiful, but it wasn’t her. It clung to her abundant curves and overly showcased her large breasts. But that was how he preferred her clothed, like a trophy wife, his private playground for other men to ogle and envy.
Slowly, she grabbed a few spin pins and twisted her shoulder length hair into a loose, messy French roll. Looking at him through the mirror, she replied, “Yes, I wanted to make you happy. The dress is lovely.” She actually sounded sincere when she recited the words. The very sight of him made her nauseous.
“Good. Is all ready for my party tomorrow? I want everything to be perfect. As you know, I’ve invited some very influential people. I must make a splendid impression.”
Suddenly he was standing directly behind her in their full length mirror. She met his hard stare in the reflection. He waited for her to finish pinning up her hair, then tangled his fist in it. He grinned when she winced and finished, “I hope I can count on you to be a charming hostess.”
Carmen burned with fiery rebellion but cooled her features and tentatively said, “I will be everything you want and so much more, Kennedy.”
He reached for his suit jacket. As he straightened up, he gave her twisted hair a hard tug and crushed his mouth to hers. “That’s what I like to hear.”
He slipped on his jacket and walked out of their bedroom. Carmen swiped her hand across her mouth to wipe away his foul kiss.
