Paul’s Trophy Wife Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Paul met up with some of his friends to play soccer, spending the afternoon tiring themselves out before they all splintered off, heading to his one of their houses to smoke some weed and watch skateboarding videos.

“Yeah, what do you think, Paul?” Zach asked, and Paul looked up.

“Huh? What?” He stared at him, and Zach shook his head.

“Jesus, dude, whats wrong with you? Why are you so out of it?” Zach laughed, and paul reached over, grabbing the pipe from his Tyler’s hand.

“I dunno, I’m pretty fucking stoned,” he laughed, but Tyler grabbed his wrist, staring at the watch.

“Paul, where did you get this watch?” He asked, and Paul yanked his hand free from Tyler’s grasp, pulling the pipe up to his lips.

“It was a gift, so what?” He asked, slightly annoyed, hitting the pipe.

“So what?!” Tyler asked, shaking his head. “That’s a fucking McCoy and Bannister, is it real?”

“Yeah, probably,” Paul shrugged.

“Dude, that watch is worth more than my car,” Tyler groaned. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Shit I don’t know, don’t worry about it,” Paul laughed, handing the pipe off to Brent.

“Don’t worry about it? Fuck you!” Tyler laughed. “The fuck is going on with you, man? You’ve been MIA for the past couple days, now you show up wearing a McCoy and Bannister? You join the fucking mafia or something?”

Everyone laughed, staring at Paul while he tried to think of a good enough excuse, then he shrugged.

“You guys wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he laughed, and Zach punched his arm.

“Spit it out, fucker,” Zach demanded, and Paul shrugged.

“Alright, alright, I’ve been fucking like, the hottest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Paul shrugged. “And she’s rich. She gave it to me.”

They all laughed, shaking their heads.

“Fuck you, Paul, alright fine, so you joined the mafia,” Tyler laughed, but Paul shook his head.

“Nah, man, I swear to god,” he smiled. “I can prove it to you.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Zach asked, packing another bowl.

“Well,” Paul shrugged, “You guys could come meet her.”

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When Paul opened the door to Valerie’s large house the next day, she was waiting for him patiently on her knees, wearing a cute little white sundress with a big green belt, her emerald collar and emerald earrings, smiling and looking away when he entered.

“Hello sir,” she whimpered, blushing, and he closed the door, nodding at her.

“Get over here,” he demanded, and she jumped up, lunging at him and wrapping her arms around him, nuzzling him, then kissing him again and again, covering his face and neck with lipstick marks, giggling and gasping quietly.

“Oh god! Paul! I missed you!” She moaned, her nails digging into his skin.

“I missed you too, kitten,” he told her, and she grabbed his hand, leading him through her house.

“Are you hungry? You must be hungry!” She smiled, sitting him down at her kitchen counter, but Paul shook his head, laughing.

“No, no, I’m really not hungry, I already had breakfast,” he told her, and she frowned, looking away, her arms behind her back. “But I could really use a drink.”

“Ok!” She bounced up, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the study, a large room with a pool table and bookshelves lining the walls, a fireplace and big, comfy armchairs, a pool table, and a large, ornate bar, fully stocked, almost over stocked, with every liquor and liqueur imaginable.

“Wow,” Paul laughed, realizing how little of the house he’d actually seen.

“What’ll you have?” Valerie jumped behind the bar, grabbing a couple metal shakers.

“Oh, uh, Jack and Coke?” Paul shrugged, and Valerie snorted, laughing before she caught herself.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry sir!” She giggled, shaking her head, walking out from the bar and up to him, wrapping her arms around him. “I shouldn’t be laughing, I know, but you’re so cute!”

Paul blushed, smacking her ass as she laughed, whimpering a little and kissing him.

“Laugh all you want, I’ll be sure to punish you for it later,” he joked, and she smiled, kissing him, then went back behind the bar, grabbing a big glass pint glass and measuring out a few liquids, then filling it with ice.

“Yes sir,” she seductively agreed, winking as she stirred the glass until it was ice cold, draining it into a martini glass, grabbing a jar of olives out from below the bar and dropping one into it and pouring out a little bit of the juice.

“This is a martini, a gin martini, I like mine a little dirty,” she said, watching him as he sipped it, giggling when his face scrunched up and he pushed it back.

“Don’t like olives, huh?” She smiled, and he shook his head.

“No, god no, they’re the worst,” he groaned, laughing a little.

“Mmm, no, they’re the best,” she giggled, grabbing one and popping it into her mouth, chewing it up and smiling, winking at him. “Ok, ok, martinis are a little too girly anyways, hold on.”

She reached behind the bar, grabbing a nice Rye, and measuring out a couple ounces, adding sweet vermouth and a couple dashes of bitters before filling the glass with ice and stirring it.

“You’re such a handsome man, a guy like you should be drinking whiskey, this is called a manhattan,” she told him, grabbing a thick ice cube from the freezer below and gingerly placing it in an old fashioned, straining the liquid into it and adding a maraschino cherry.

“Here, try this,” she told him, and he sipped it, taking a moment to process the taste, then took another sip.

“Now this, this is a lot better,” he told her, and she blushed.