Daddy's Boy (13 page)

And I have a lot of passion buried
deep.

Because I’m a companion,
people don’t realize I’m not a slut, or a sex addict. I don’t find
every single client attractive. As a matter of fact, there aren’t
many of them I do find attractive. So because of that, I guess you
could say that I am somewhat… sexually “constipated.” I don’t
really masturbate. Not because I don’t want to, but because after I
am done with a client, I’m drained. There isn’t much that turns me
on anymore. I’m usually exhausted. All I want to do is sleep. So I
spend my days getting buffed, plucked, waxed, teased, squeezed, and
everything else to make sure I look good, including working out.
All of those things are so that I can make money to take care of
Stella, or to pay off KuJoe so he’ll leave her alone, and last, but
not least, so I can keep my home. Whenever I’m not doing that, I’m
watching television or sleeping. I don’t find men or women
attractive. I find their wallets attractive. That’s what ignites my
libido. That’s the only thing I will
allow
to get me turned on. That’s
the way it has to be.

But Dodger? Dodger is a wonder.
Because not only does he get my “companion” cock hard, he gets my
physical cock hard. Which is evident by the way it is even now
pressing against his corrugated, eight-pack abs. He kissed me back
hungrily, growling as he moved through the water to press my back
against the wall of the pool. I wrapped my legs around his waist,
tangling my fingers in his hair as I opened my mouth for his
plundering tongue and let him have his way with me. Which is
something else different and completely out of character for me. I
might let my clients think they have all the control in one of our
meetings or “sessions,” but really, I’m the one with all of the
control. I learned the hard way, after my dealings with KuJoe, to
never, ever, let anyone have that control over me ever
again.

But now, here with Dodger, I just
wanted to let go. Let him do whatever he wanted to do to and with
me. It was both liberating and scary. I wasn’t sure which emotion
to go with. But when he released my lips and began nibbling his way
over my chin and down my neck, I went with liberating and tilted my
head back to give him more access to do as he wished. I moaned low
and trembled in Dodger’s arms as he lifted me up onto the edge of
the pool. I gasped at the display of his strength, but I didn’t
have long to think about it before I felt Dodger’s lips and tongue
making their way down over my torso, past my stomach and to my
aching cock.

I’ve had my cock sucked
before. Plenty of my clients have thrilled at the chance to take me
into their mouths and suck to their heart’s content. It isn’t
something I would particularly say I prefer. Nothing to write home
about, but when the wet heat of Dodger’s mouth enclosed itself
around my shaft, my head fell back, and a keening noise burst forth
from my lips. Dear god, how had I
missed
this? How had I gone so long
without experiencing something so amazing? Was this what my clients
felt when I took them into my mouth? Was this how it felt when you
were actually attracted to the person doing the
fellatio?

And that was the last conscious
thought in my head. Every single thought in my head, every word and
letter was burned and ripped from my mind and went up like a puff
of smoke. My hands scrabbled for purchase, for something to grip,
to hold on to as Dodger sucked, licked, and bobbed up and down on
my dick. He licked from the base of my engorged shaft to the head,
which was an angry purple color. He groaned as he did so, as if he
were enjoying it as much as I was. But that wasn’t possible. No one
enjoyed pleasing the person they were giving head to. It just
wasn’t possible. Performing fellatio, giving someone a blowjob was
a job, a requirement. It was enjoyable for the receiver, not the
giver.

I understood why I lay on the side of
the pool panting, gasping, moaning, and groaning his name, but I
couldn’t understand why his face was flushed with pleasure as well.
I didn’t understand the look of bliss on his face, the smear of
pleasure that was wiped across his features. It made no sense to
me, and if I’d had the presence of mind, I would have asked him
about it, but I didn’t. So, all I could do was lift my hands to my
head, grip the blond strands of my own hair, and tug as my hips
began to thrust toward his face, faster and faster, until my hands
came down and gripped his head to hold it tight against my groin,
as I trembled, bucked, and wailed when my orgasm crashed over me. I
shook as cum spurted from the head of my cock into his mouth. It
seemed to be never ending, until it finally stopped, and the
twitches in my limbs tapered off.

I opened my eyes and stared at Dodger,
watching as he pulled his mouth off my dick and turned his head to
the side of my body, spitting my sperm onto the concrete. I wanted
to be insulted. I wanted to tell him I was clean, to show him the
papers that proved it, but why should he believe me? We didn’t know
each other, and he knew what I did for a living. And even more than
that, an image of Jack rose unbidden to my mind, and I pulled my
legs up to my chest, even as I turned onto my side, curling up into
a ball, trembling for a completely different reason from
before.

“
Tyler? Are you okay?”
Dodger’s voice came to me from a fog.

I wanted to answer him. I wanted to go
back to being my nonchalant, apathetic self, but I couldn’t. I
couldn’t pretend what we had just done hadn’t completely affected
me down to my core.

Dodger had smashed a hole in my wall,
and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to fix it.

“
I think I’d like to go
home now, Dodger,” I told him, seconds before the soft ringing of
an alarm sounded from the direction of my clothes.

“
What’s that?” he
asked.

That
was my salvation. And like the sun shining through the
clouds, or like a patch on my broken wall, I uncurled from my fetal
position and looked at him, staring him directly in his
eyes.

“
That’s the alarm stating
that, according to how much you wanted to pay me for tonight, our
time together is over. If you want me for the rest of the night,
it’s an extra five grand, otherwise it’s time for me to go
home.”

Chapter Ten

Dodger’s disappointed look and the
look of hardness that came to his eyes after my statement haunted
me all the way home and into my dreams. When I woke up the next
morning, feeling as if I’d gotten no sleep whatsoever, I felt…
guilty. Something I hadn’t experienced after an evening with a
client in a long time and especially not because I’d reminded said
client he’d purchased my time.

Stumbling out of bed, I went into the
bathroom and took care of my morning ablutions, taking a piss, and
brushing my teeth, refusing to look in the mirror before heading
downstairs and into my office. Turning on my computer, I pulled up
my calendar to see if I had any “appointments.” Noticing my day was
free and clear of any clients or spa days, I briefly considered
calling up one of my girlfriends who were also companions to see if
they wanted to hang out, but a need to see Stella was riding me
hard. And so I decided to go with my urge to check on her and spend
the day in Glendale. I shut down my computer before rising and
heading back upstairs.

Whenever I went to see Stella, I
always made sure I looked as normal as possible. That was one of
the reasons I loved visiting her. I didn’t have to look beautiful
or “presentable.” I just had to look like me. She was as genuine as
a person could be; and even though the rest of my life was filled
with backstabbers, liars, philanderers, and the like, being with
Stella was pure and innocent. I truly wished I could spend more
time with her, but I was a long way from being able to do
that.

But not as far as I had
been.

Pulling out a pair of cutoff shorts
that came to mid-thigh and a yellow shirt that had a teddy bear and
a rainbow on it—Stella’s favorite T-shirt, which stopped just above
the waistband of my shorts—I grabbed a pair of sneakers from the
closet, stepped out into the bedroom, and looked around.

For the first time in a long time, the
sight of my bedroom filled me with disgust. I had the insane urge
to rip everything apart. I wanted to come in with a large can of
red paint and throw it on everything before taking a knife to every
single surface. I shook my head at that crazy idea and pulled off
my clothes, walking over to the hamper and placing them inside.
Returning to the bed I dressed in the clothes I’d picked out then
sat to put on my shoes, sans socks, and opened the top drawer of my
nightstand to grab a hair tie. I pulled my hair back from my face
into a ponytail.

I rubbed my hands over my face before
I stood and hurried out of the room. Even though Stella wasn’t
expecting me, I couldn’t get to Glendale fast enough.

****

Driving California State Route 2
Northbound, I turned up Seether as loud as possible as I sped down
the road. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, watching the
traffic and the road through the amber tint of my sunglasses. I
bobbed my head along to the alternative music, the beginnings of a
smile pulling at my lips at the thought of seeing Stella and
spending the day with her. Maybe I would take her shopping. I know
I would be taking her out to eat. We always ate out on the days I
came to visit.

I was so excited I was practically
vibrating and bouncing in my seat. I couldn’t seem to drive fast
enough. I zipped in and out of traffic, breezing past cars that
were driving too slow and lifting my hand to wave when someone blew
their horn at me. I wasn’t sure why they were honking since I
hadn’t even been close to them, but I ignored them and continued
speeding down the road.

The music was so loud it took me a
while to realize I was hearing sirens behind me. I looked up into
my rearview mirror and saw the flashing blue and red
lights.

“
Shit!”

Turning on my signal, I pulled over to
the right side of the road, inches from the Colorado Blvd exit, and
turned off my car. I reached forward and grabbed my wallet to pull
out my license and registration to have them ready for the officer
whenever he, or she, got to the car.

“
License and registration
please, sir.”

I turned to hand the officer the
requested documents, barely glancing up past the belt buckle of his
pants. I hated officers. Not all of them were upstanding. Most of
the ones I’d had any type of dealing with were just as corrupt as
the people they were supposed to be arresting. They ignored the
people they were supposed to be protecting and sometimes even
victimized them.

“
Sir, do you know how fast
you were going?”

I shook my head. “No, officer. I have
no idea. I wasn’t paying any attention to my speedometer,” I
answered honestly.

“
Are you being a
smartass?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at his question
and tilted my head back further in an effort to see his face. “No,
officer. I’m being honest.” His face was in shadow, the sun shining
directly behind him, and I had the insane urge to ask him to step
to the side so I could see his face better.

“
You were going ninety-five
in a seventy-five. That’s twenty miles over the speed limit, Mr.
Simpson.”

“
It’s Simpston,” I
corrected him.

“
I’m not hearing the
difference,” he said gruffly.

“
Not SimpSON, with a S-O-N.
SimpSTON, with a S-T-O-N,” I pointed out, trying to remain polite
but growing annoyed with the way he was speaking down to me. I
hated it when people got my name wrong. But I really hated it when
they tried to imply I didn’t even know my own name. I knew my
name.

“
Regardless. You were going
over the speed limit Mr. SimpSTON,” the police officer said
sarcastically. “I’m going to have to give you a ticket. Stay in the
car, keep your hands on the wheel, and I’ll be right
back.”

I sighed, placing my hands on the
wheel and waiting while he went to run my license and plate through
the system. I watched as cars sped past us, some of them slowing
down to watch us, some of the drivers no doubt smirking at me for
getting caught even as they sped by. I wanted to throw something at
all of them, but I couldn’t. Instead I waited. And waited. Until
finally the officer returned.

“
Mr. Simpson, will you step
out of the car, please?”

Confusion rolled through me at his
words. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“
Just step out of the car,
Mr. Simpson.”

Ignoring the officer
getting my name wrong,
again
, I pulled the keys out of my
ignition and went to grab my wallet before stepping out of the car,
sure I was about to be arrested, and I would need my money in order
to bail myself out for whatever it was I was being booked
for.

“
You won’t need your
wallet,” the officer said cryptically.

I froze and looked at him before
tossing my wallet back into my car.

“
Are you giving me a
breathalizer test? Because I can assure you, officer, that I have
not been drinking.”