The Suicide Princess

THE

SUICIDE

PRINCESS
 

By
 

Anthony Bryan

Copyright © 2013, B.A. Wood Books

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews

“The Suicide Princes” is a work of pure fiction. Any similarity to actual events or resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover photography courtesy of Taylor Reeve and TaylorSays.com
Fan Information, visit: AnthonyBryanAuthor.com

Cover photography provided by Eric McCoy.  Cover shoes, “Royal Hearts,” designed by Taylor Reeve and available through TaylorSays.com
. Editorial Services provided in part by Ellie Folden of Love N. Books and Stephanie Medeiros

Chapter One: Chance Encounter
Chapter Two: Jumping Off
Chapter Three: Living a Dream
Chapter Four: Becoming Bad
Chapter Five: where You Belong
Chapter Six: A Price to be Paid
Chapter Seven: Red Handed
Chapter Eight: A Night to Forget
Chapter Nine: Walking Out
Chapter Ten: A Friend in Need
Chapter Eleven: Revenge is a Dish
Chapter Twelve: Best Served Cold
Epilogue

Throughout my entire life, even when I was a young child, reading has always been an escape from reality. It was a way to temporarily leave the boring monotony of day-to-day life, and it allowed me to visit far off lands, meet unusual characters, take incredible adventures, and even learn about the very edges of our universe. Being able to take my love of reading and transform it to a passion for writing has been the greatest gift I have ever received.

I hope, more than anything, that the coming pages provide an escape for you, and I hope they take you on a journey you won’t soon forget. My goal is to give you something different, refreshing and new. In a sea of authors going by their first two initials and pumping out the same cookie-cutter stories, I can only try to be the one who stands out and takes you on one hell of a ride.

Find your favorite reading spot, pour yourself a drink (or two), and love every second of
The Suicide Princess…
After all, I wrote it for you!

Stephanie sat in her office as Bill Webber, a robust man in his early fifties, entered through the door. The sign just outside her door read
, “Stephanie Bradford, Assistant District Attorney,” but the office did not seem very lawyer-like at all. In fact, the office was more of a glorified cubicle, and there were stacks of paper and jam packed manila folders surrounding the small desk in the middle. Although the room was a mess, it was more of organized chaos than anything else.

“Bradford, the Gonzales c
ase goes to trial next Thursday. Are you going to be ready?” he asked.

Stephanie replied, “Ready to win this one, Mr. Webber.”

“That's what I want to hear, Bradford. Just remember, you don't need to feel like you're in this alone. I know you're still learning the ropes, and if you need a hand, just ask.”

“I will, Mr. Webber, but I think I'm ready.”

“Good. Good,” Webber said as he walked away.

Stephanie had finally finished law school and successfully passed the Massachusetts
State Bar Exam. Working in the Suffolk County District Attorney's Office wasn't proving to be the lavish law career she had envisioned while in school, but being in the heart of downtown Boston's legal community put Stephanie right in the middle of where she wanted to be. Granted, she was only prosecuting misdemeanor crimes and minor felonies, but she knew she was on the path to being in a private law firm within a few years. At that moment, however, future plans were the last thing on Stephanie's mind. It was time for her daily lunch with her favorite co-worker Karen.

Stephanie and Karen had a lot in common,
and the pair was quickly becoming close friends. The two were both new, female attorneys in their late twenties, they had many common interests, and they made each other’s lives more enjoyable when dealing with the twelve-hour days that were all too common in the District Attorney's Office.

Karen was attractive, but she could be more accurately described as “cute” than anything else. At just under five feet tall, Karen was extremely petite and very slender. Her fair skin, blue eyes, and short blonde hair all combined to create an attractive appearance, but it was Karen’s outgoing and bubbly personality that set her apart in any crowd.

Ready to go, Stephanie clutched her purse in her hands as she popped her head into Karen's equally unimpressive office. “Are you ready for lunch?” Stephanie asked.

Karen replied, “Holy crap,
it's lunchtime already? I am completely slammed, hon. I can't go today.”

Stephanie pleadingly begged, “Please come. P
lease. I hate walking down there by myself.”

“I really can't go today, Steph. I'll never get out of here tonight,” Karen explained
. “But wherever you are going, will you bring me back something?”

“
Okay, but I hate you! I'm going to Tony's. Want me to bring you back a number seven?”

Karen laughingly said, “Yes please, and I love you!”

“Well, I still hate you,” Stephanie joked as she walked from Karen's office.

Stephanie made the ten-minute walk through Boston's Government Center to Tony's Pizzeria. It was the end of April, and although the Boston air still ha
d a mild chill, spring had sprung, and the city was alive with activity. Trees were blooming, birds were chirping, and the air had a fresh scent that was only around during the brief Massachusetts spring.

Stephanie arrived at the pizzeria only to find an unusually long line
that exited the restaurant's door.
Just great,
she thought to herself.

As Stephanie was waiting in line, she began to send a text to her husband, Jacob. She hadn't completed typing the first line, when she was interrupted by a voice, “Excuse me, but is that t
he new iPhone?”

Stephanie hesitantly replied, “Yes, it is,” to the strange man standing behind her. Stephanie never meant to be cold to people, but being a very attractive woman placed her in the position
of finding herself frequently approached by men, and being cold was the only way to deal with them. Stephanie was twenty-nine years old and quite attractive. She stood just under five foot six, weighed one hundred and twenty pounds, and had a perfectly proportioned body with natural 34C breasts. Her long chestnut brown hair, brown eyes, naturally olive tanned skin, and perfect body made her the constant focus of male attention. She was certain this question about her phone was destined to become just another pick-up attempt.

The male
spoke again, “I was thinking of upgrading to that phone. Would you mind if I took a look at yours?”

Stephanie found the request innocent enough, so she obliged by handing him her phone. As she hand
ed him the phone, he grasped it with his left hand and extended his right hand in a gesture to offer a handshake. Feeling utterly annoyed by this point, Stephanie asked, “Are you trying to look at my phone or trying to pick me up? Because…” as she waved the back side of her left hand in front of the stranger, showing him her wedding band.

“No, no, no,” he said, “Nothing like that. I was just trying to be polite. My name's Derrick,” he said as he extended his right hand again.

“Fine. Nice to meet you, Derrick. I'm Stephanie,” she said as she reluctantly shook his hand.

Stephanie quickly noticed that Derrick was not only a quite attractive man, but she was taken aback by how well put together
he was. From his trimmed goatee to his thick, combed back hair, he was meticulously groomed and dressed and obviously had a very keen sense of style. He wore a custom fitted dress shirt, slacks, brown Allen-Edmonds shoes, and stylish glasses. The sleeves on Derrick's shirt were partially rolled, and Stephanie saw his arms were tattooed to his wrists beneath a beautiful and elegant Rolex watch. Derrick had the aura of the tough, edgy, bad-boy type, but wrapped in a classy, cleaned up package, and he radiated the slightest scent of Calvin Klein cologne. Stephanie would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least slightly intrigued by the man in front of her.

The line moved slowly, and after thirty minutes, Stephanie finally reached the counter to place her order. By that time, through his apparent charm and unique sense of humor, Derrick had melted Stephanie's cold barrier, and he had her laughing and giggling.

Stephanie received the food she had ordered for Karen and her, and she was preparing to leave the pizzeria. She said to Derrick, “Well, thank you for keeping me company in line.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he
said with a smile.

Stephanie pau
sed for a moment before leaving and asked, “Well?” as if she were expecting something from Derrick.

“What? Do you want my phone number?”
he asked.

“No, I want my phone.”

Derrick laughed and said “Oh shit, I'm so sorry. I almost forgot about it,” as he reached into his pants pocket and produced Stephanie's phone. As he was handing the phone back, he said, “Well, since you didn't want my number, can I have yours?”

“Nice try, Romeo,”
she said as she took her phone and walked away.

Stephanie activated her phone
and glanced momentarily at the unfinished text to Jacob. She looked back towards Derrick, and rather than continue her text, she deleted it. As she made the walk back to the District Attorney's Office, Stephanie thought about Derrick and how he made her feel so attractive in the way he had approached her. There was nothing sleazy or obnoxious about his come on; it was actually cute. She was amazed at how she felt about herself after such a short conversation with a complete stranger. Although she tried her very best to conceal it, the feeling Derrick gave her made her smile.

Stephanie got back to the office, and her lunch with Karen ended quickly. She returned to her own office to begin preparing for the upcoming trial when her phone vibrated, alerting her of a
n incoming message. The message from a telephone number she didn't recognize read,
“Hey, pizza girl! -Romeo”

Stephanie softly spoke the words, “What the hell?” as she realized it was Derrick texting her. She responded by asking
the sender if it was in fact Derrick, and he confirmed her suspicion in his next message.

She a
sked,
“How did you get my number?”

“Remember when you gave me your phone? Toward the end of our conversation, I
realized I was having a lot of fun with you, and I sent myself a text message from your phone.”

Stephanie was far more disturbed by Derrick's action than sh
e was charmed, and she replied,
“Asshole, I told you I am married! Please don't text me again!”

She angrily put her phone on
her desk as she said to herself,
what a jerk!

Derrick responded by apologizing and explaining he meant no harm. Despite Stephanie's aggravation with Derrick, he was able to draw her into a texting conversation, much as he was able
easily able to chat her up at the pizzeria. His charm continued to shine, and even though it was now through text messages, Stephanie eventually found herself enjoying a conversation with him once again.

The conversation went back and forth for a little over two hours, and Stephanie found herself feeling giggly again, just as she felt after leaving Derrick at lunc
h.

Derrick sent a text stating,
“If you want a word of advice, there is an easy way to stop irresistible men like me from hitting on you...”

“Oh and what is that?”
asked Stephanie.

“Stop looking so sexy,”
Derrick texted.

Stephanie replied,
“Sexy? LOL! That's a joke! My hair was a mess, I didn't even put makeup on today.”

Derrick said,
“I was referring more to your clothes. Your tight skirt, your heels, your thin top... I'm still thinking about all of them.”

Stephanie reminded Derrick
,
“I'm married, bad boy. Keep it clean!”

“What if I don't want to keep it clean?”
asked Derrick. In his next message he continued,
“What if all I want to talk about is you and your naughty little office girl clothes.”

“I'm not naughty. I'm a goo
d girl, and I’m a VERY good girl at that,”
replied Stephanie.

“Well, if you were in my office right now, I'd have to give you some bad girl lessons,”
Derrick told Stephanie.

At that moment, Stephanie knew with every ounce of sense that she needed to stop her conversation with Derrick. At the same time, however, a feeling was churning inside of her -- a feeling which she had not felt in quite some time. It was a feeling of anxiety, excitement, and curiosity. Stephanie stared at her phone for a moment and her thumb hovered back and forth between the options to reply to the text or to delete the conversation. Temptation defeated good sense, and Stephanie hit the reply key.

“Bad girl lessons, huh?”
She asked.

Derrick sent back,
“We could call it something like Naughty Girl 101.”

“So what would be my first lesson?”

Stephanie waited anxiously for Derrick's response, which came quickly,

“Your first lesson would be a brief presentation,”
he said.
“I'd have you lay back on my desk, and I'd tell you to slide your skirt up with your legs spread wide. I'd tell you to pull your top up, exposing your beautiful breasts, and then have you start rubbing yourself through your hot little panties.”

“Mmmmm, I love this lesson so far,”
replied Stephanie.

Derrick's next message came,
“Then I'd tell you to pull your panties to the side, and you'd do everything I tell you to with those fingers, just like a real bad girl. Put them anywhere I tell you, and do exactly as you're told.”

Stephanie, becoming more and more excited by the thought of performing for this man she hardly even knew, was starting to become extremely aroused. She quickly penned the words “On a conference call” on a piece of paper which she taped to her office door. She closed and locked the door, and returned to her seat in which she slid back from the desk. Stephanie slouched down in the seat, and she raised her skirt as if she were
actually in front of Derrick. She slid her left hand down the front of her black lace thong as she gripped her phone in her right hand, eagerly waiting for Derrick's next text to arrive.

The following message read,
“I'd want to lean back and watch you please yourself. Your shirt hanging half off, your tall black heels on my desk, your fingers working your hot, wet, pussy... I'd want to watch it all.”

“I'm doing that right now for you. My office door is closed, and I'm doing exactly what you're describing. Tell me more,”
Stephanie instructed Derrick.

He wrote back,
“I'd tell you to keep going until I heard you breathing rapidly, until I saw your legs starting to shake, and until I saw your face turning flush red. I'd tell you to keep going until I knew you made yourself explode.”