“Hey, where you going?” I grunted, exhausted, big body prone on the huge bed. Melly’s moved in with me in the master suite, so I couldn’t imagine where she was headed. There was no reason to go anywhere, her clothes were here, her towel, her everything.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said cheekily, wiggling that ass once more, tempting me as her huge butt bounced. “Just wait here, I hid it so you wouldn’t find it.” God, I fucking loved the girl. A surprise? For me? I’m the guy who always gives gifts, the guy who always pays when we’re at a restaurant. So it was nice to think that I was on the receiving end for once, even if it was just a little something, something that didn’t cost much, maybe even a little extra play.
Because yeah, I was hoping that Melly would come back nude, except for a tiara on her head and a glittery wand inserted into her anus. Literally, not figuratively. It sounds perverted, I know, but I’ve wanted to fuck her with that wand for so long, it’s this silver skinny thing with a star at the top, and sometimes Melly touches it to her stuffed animals’ heads like she’s knighting them. Knighting stuffed animals? I had a better use for that thing that involved all sorts of off-limits nookie.
So I lay back, cock still semi-stiff, glazed with her pussy juice and ass sweat. God, the girl smelled good, her scents coating me and I didn’t want to wash it off, I wanted to inhale Melly’s come as I walked around, a whiff of the girl’s fragrant pussy with me always.
But fuck, she didn’t return immediately. At first, I thought maybe she was showering, she wanted to get clean before another sex session because yeah, I was gonna pound her again. But no, there was no sound of water spurting, no hum of a distant bath. Just silence. So after about twenty minutes or so, I got up and strode down the hallway, long steps covering the distance to the pink room.
And flicking on the lights, I blinked, dazed by the brightness. Because there was no one there. What the fuck? Where the hell was she? I had plans for the little girl, we weren’t done yet tonight, not by a long shot. So I marched down to the kitchen, then the living room, then the den, anywhere the girl might be hiding. Shit, was this some kind of a fucking trick? What kind of game was this?
“I’m not playing hide and seek,” I boomed, voice low and resonant. “It’s late, Daddy’s gonna spank you hard when he finds you.”
Normally, I would have expected to hear a titter somewhere in the distance, a bit of shuffling behind a window curtain. But the manor was empty. The huge fucking house echoed like an ice chamber and I knew in my bones that I was alone. I’ve got a sixth sense for Melly, and right now, it was going off like a siren, everything telling me that she was gone, disappeared into the night.
So immediately I sprang into action.
“Angela,” I barked into the phone. “What the fuck? Did you send a car for Melly?”
Despite the fact that it was midnight, the woman answered immediately like talking to me was normal.
“Of course not, she’s still got six days at Valley Pine. I had a talk with her this morning just to tie up some loose ends, but no, of course I didn’t send a car, your contract’s not up yet.”
And without thinking, I flung the phone as hard as I could against the wall then, enraged, growling like a bear. Because shit, Angela had been too efficient. She knew I’d be away on business today and so had stepped in, thinking to get the “talk” done while there was some free time. But that’s the thing. The “talk” is the official send-off, where we make the girls sign some last papers, get her direct deposit numbers, tie up all the loose ends before she’s officially a goner. Fuck, Angela had jumped the gun.
And suddenly it all made sense, Melly’s bad mood, her slight jumpiness. Suddenly, I knew why the brunette had been fucking me so frantically, her boobs jouncing in my face, that pussy extra wet, offering me her mouth, ass, cunt any which way I wanted, everything at my disposal, slutty, warm and open, begging for more. Because the little girl had been saying goodbye. She’d been planning her escape, and with this last session, she’d been saying goodbye with her body, although there were no words other than the usual litany of “Daddy, please! Daddy, there! Daddy, yes!” My girl had left me just like that. In the middle of a hot session, my girl had up and left, no good-byes, no warning.
But the thing is that I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready by a long shot, and in fact, I wasn’t ever sure I was going to be ready to let Melly go. Sure, she’d said her goodbyes, but I hadn’t said mine. And because the girl belonged to me, she wasn’t gonna get away so easy … not by a long shot.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Melly
I stopped by Dunkin’ Doobie to say hi to Curtis, our line cook, and subtly ask if there was an opening for a waitress.
“Naw honey,” said the sixty year-old wrinkled man. Curtis has been with Dunkin’ Doobie since it opened thirty years ago, and is the restaurant’s eyes and ears. He’d know if I could get my job back.
“Ella was hired after you left, and Jimbo really likes her,” he said, nodding to the strange girl standing at the counter. I could see why. The blonde had big poofy hair and even bigger breasts, with a dumb, vacant expression in her eyes. Jimbo was practically breathing into her ear as we watched, his greasy fingers on her tits.
“God,” I said under my breath. “It’s a miracle that she gets her orders straight.”
Curtis looked at me pointedly then.
“She doesn’t,” he said wryly. “Come back in a week, maybe she’ll be gone, the café can’t lose money forever.”
And I shot a grateful smile at my friend. Curtis was the only person I felt comfortable talking with at the Dunkin’ Doobie, the only one who was non-judgmental and kind. He’s had a lot of life experience, seen a lot of things, so I didn’t think he’d look at me odd, even if I told him I’d sold my virginity for a place to stay. Or even more shockingly, that’d I’d fallen in love with a man that treated me like a five year-old girl … and that I loved it. I loved the lifestyle, I loved being a little girl to my Daddy Dom, Mr. Lancaster wasn’t just my daddy, he was my lover, my other half, my everything. And Curtis wasn’t holding back, the questions came flying.
“So where you been these three months?” he asked curiously, flipping pancakes on the griddle. “You up and left so fast, folks here thought there was some family emergency. But I know you got no family.”
I nodded slowly. Curtis was the only person I’d told about my sad history, he was the only person who knew I hadn’t seem my mom and dad since I was a child, that I’d grown up in group homes. It was my shameful secret, and I didn’t want the world to know.
“I’ve been away,” I murmured, not meeting his eyes. “Had some things to take care of.”
“Some things?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted, reaching for some ketchup.
“Yeah, things,” I muttered again, face dropping. There was the non-disclosure agreement, I couldn’t say that I’d been with Robert Lancaster, billionaire mogul. I couldn’t say that I’d lived with him for three months at his extravagant manor, giving him my virginity, spending nights tangled in his bed, in exchange for cold hard cash.
But I took a deep breath then. Because no, I couldn’t get into specifics, but I could stick with generalities. And what was wrong with revealing that I’d fallen in love? Love is universal, something that happens to all human beings. Confessing that I’d fallen in love with a man wouldn’t breach the confidentiality agreement, in fact, it was totally normal.
“The thing is,” I started, throat swelling, eyes tearing up. “I met someone.”
Curtis looked at me once more before putting his spatula down.
“Why is he making you cry then? Why are you back here, and not with him?”
“I guess it’s really complicated,” I choked out. “He’s a lot older than me, and … and …”
Curtis continued stirring, unperturbed.
“So? Age doesn’t make a difference. Me and Letty, we’re twenty years apart, yet we’ve been married forty years.”
&
“No, it’s not that,” I said slowly. “It’s that he’s not into me,” I managed in a weak voice. “I thought that he loved me, but he doesn’t. To him, it was just about …”
I couldn’t say it, not in front of Curtis. I couldn’t say the word “sex,” my friend was my friend, yes, but he was also my elder, respectable, honest, and from a different generation. But the sixty year-old surprised me.
“It was about sex?” he asked, not even blinking an eye. “You can say it girl, I got nine kids, I know how they’re made.”
And I nodded gratefully then.
“It was just about the physical for him. I thought we were in love, there was something in the air and we always had such a good time together. But in the end it was just about the physical,” I said bitterly. “I really learned a lesson,” I added, the tears pouring harder now. “The medicine was bitter.”
And Curtis nodded sagely, a wrinkled hand reaching for some thyme or parsley, I wasn’t sure which.
“A lot of dudes are about the physical,” he agreed. “But if you had such a good time with him, why do you think it was about the sex only? It’s pretty hard to fake good conversation, to fake like you love someone when you’re with them all the time.”
That was true, and I blinked blearily in the café’s kitchen. But what did I know? I was just a naïve twenty year-old, selling my virginity to a much older man. I’d been taken, the wool had been pulled over my eyes, I’d been a dumb sheep tricked by a wolf.
“I know he doesn’t love me,” I said slowly, “because he had me sign papers when I left, saying that everything was done, that I couldn’t talk about it with anyone, that we were going our separate ways and that I could never contact him again.”
“Really?” asked Curtis, turning around to look at me, eyes skeptical. “Who puts together papers like that? Man, this guy is a psychopath.”
I hung my head then.
“Really rich people do it, I guess,” I said defeated. “Really rich men who can afford lawyers to put together papers, with people jumping at their beck and call. So yeah, I signed them, and it’s one and done. He wanted me gone, and so I left.”
“I dunno honey,” said Curtis in a kind tone. “Did you get those papers looked at by an attorney?”
I paused for a moment.
“Well no, of course not,” I replied. “I can’t afford that.”
“Well, what were you signing then?” my buddy asked reasonably. “You know you can’t read. You got more common sense than that.”
And I sighed. God, my dyslexia was always messing up my life, such a central source of mistakes and inconvenience.
“You’re right,” I acknowledged. “I didn’t read what I was signing, but I know what the papers said. I was to leave and never come back, and I should never reach out to him again.” I couldn’t add the part about the money, it was just too sordid, me getting paid for sex like that.
But Curtis shook his head doubtfully.
“Baby girl, I’ve known you a long time now,” he said, frying away at something, raising his voice so that I could hear. “You didn’t read those papers, both you and I know that reading isn’t your thing. Hell, when you were working here, the menu was a mystery until you memorized it, looking at the foods and remembering exactly how they were prepared. Not that I’m judging you,” he said, raising his voice once more as the spatters shot out from the stove. I stepped back, not wanting to be hit by hot oil. “But you have to do right by yourself honey. Make sure those papers say what they say, and not what you think they say, or what you want them to say. Because maybe it’s different. You’ll never know unless you read them, or find someone to read them for you.”
I shook my head.
“It’s no use,” I said in a low voice. “I’ve already been kicked out. I called a Lyft and got myself out of there, it was so bad, I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
At that, Curtis’s head swiveled, his brow furrowed.
“What’s this thing Lyft? I never heard of that.”
And I nodded slowly. Like I said, Curtis is older, so he’s never heard of ride-sharing services.
“It’s like a taxi,” I explained. “I called for a taxi and one came to pick me up.”
My friend paused then, his brow creased.
“So you called a car for yourself after you were kicked out? They told you to leave, and left you to call a car for yourself?”
I sighed. Lyft can be hard to explain, the new sharing economy has opened frontiers that didn’t exist even five years ago.
“Sort of. I knew he was going to ask me to leave, so I did the honors myself. I left in the middle of the night, when he was least expecting it. I didn’t want to say goodbye, I didn’t want to have this long, uncomfortable, drawn out thing. So I called a car myself and did the honors, around midnight last night.” Of course, I didn’t add that I’d literally left Robert in the middle of sex, slipping off his dick to never come back. That was going too far, even if Curtis had nine kids, it was too much for anyone’s ears.
But Curtis shook his head again.
“Baby girl,” the old man said doubtfully. “If he kicked you out, that’d be one thing. But right now, it sounds like you kicked yourself out. You say you were kicked out, but you actually left on your own. You say he made you sign all these things, but you actually never read any of the things you signed. You say he doesn’t love you, but …” his voice trailed off.
“But what?” I asked slowly. “What?”
“I dunno,” shrugged my friend, turning back to a quiche in his hands. “I can’t say, you have to ask him.”
And I shook my head.
“It’s too late for that,” I murmured, “It’s too late.” Because of course, Mr. Lancaster already had another girl lined up. In another few days, Michelle or whatever her name was, would be arriving at Valley Pine to be his newest little. So my throat swelled again, the lump making it almost impossible to breathe, to talk. I was yesterday’s trash, forgotten, unloved, already on the side of the street.
But Curtis has raised nine kids and glared at me then, in full-on dad mode.
“You don’t know nuthin’,” he proclaimed authoritatively. “And there’s no such thing as too late. If you love this man, then you gotta tell him. I tell my Letty every day that I love her, and there’s no day that it doesn’t make both of us feel good. So you need to do the same.”
I stammered then.
“I can’t. I can’t,” I said, shaking my head.
Curtis just swung back to his cooking.
“Then you’re not the girl I know. You’re not the one who raised herself, who lived in a children’s home for a decade, who made it out alive, a budding artist. You’re not the Melissa that I know, you really are a quitter, someone who gives up at the drop of a hat.”
And I flushed then, staring at my toes, ashamed. God, Curtis was an expert at pulling a guilt trip.
“You’re not my parent,” I said woodenly, trying not to cry again. Why was life so hard? Why was even my closest friend turning on me, giving me the ninth degree?
But the elderly man wasn’t letting up, he was going for gold.
“I’m as good as you’ve got,” he said, hands on hips. “You don’t have no family, and I’m the closest thing. So it’s time someone told you the truth, it’s time that you started acting like the Melissa of old. So get out there and fight! You’ve been fighting your whole life girl, and to see you like this, shaking like a nabob. Man, I don’t know,” he said turning back to the stove. “It’s like the old you disappeared and some other girl’s in her shoes, someone I don’t recognize.”
I nodded then. Because it was true. I was a ghost of my former self, defeated, depressed, a gray cloud hovering on my shoulders. I was nothing. I was only a teenage girl, heartbroken, devastated, with nothing to offer and nowhere to go. And I couldn’t take it anymore. Curtis’ verbal lashing was deserved, I know, they were words that I needed to hear, and he meant them from a good place. But I couldn’t take it, not now when I was feeling so down.
“Thanks Curtis,” I said softly, letting myself out of the kitchen. “Thanks for talking.”
The old man didn’t even acknowledge my departure. I’d disappointed him so much that he didn’t even look up from the carrots he was chopping, reaching briefly to sprinkle some basil on them. And I let myself out of the restaurant, staring up once more at the Dunkin’ Doobie sign outside. What did I have? No job, no family, no nothing, not even Curtis anymore … and definitely not Robert Lancaster.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Robert
I almost flew off the handle when I realized she was staying at a hostel in downtown Manhattan. What the fuck? Because when I got there, it was even worse than it seemed. The place was crawling with insects, they probably were stealing electricity from other legitimate businesses nearby, the whole building was a fire hazard. I stepped into the common area and a stench filled my nostrils, old coffee, decaying bits of food, it was so nasty.
Why the hell was Melissa staying here? I’d paid her seventy-five thousand dollars, fifty plus fifteen for keeping her mouth shut, and the money had already been deposited in her account. Shit, she could afford the Four Seasons, why stay in a dump like this?
Because yeah, I’ve tracked my best girl to this hellhole, and no way is she hanging out here any longer. I’m taking the female back to Valley Pine with me, come hell or high water, kicking and screaming if I have to. But first, where was Melly? There was no front desk, and certainly no concierge or hotel phone, so I stood in the front lobby as teens milled about, most of them looking unwashed and seedy.
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