I ended up having to stay late to finish Johnny’s personal stuff. I reflected on the injustice of it all as I paid his water, electric, and cable bills, as well as his ridiculous luxuries like his yearly gym membership, his housekeeper/chef, and his grocery delivery bill. I worked myself to death just to make ends meet while he barely lifted a finger and had all the luxury in the world thanks to his billionaire father.
Just as I was about to leave, my desk phone rang. I usually let the night answering service get it after hours, but I could see by the caller ID that it was Johnny. I figured it best to get it over with rather than be faced with a voice mail in the morning.
“Affluent Accents Accessories, I can’t wait to help you!” Johnny was too dumb to realize we had caller ID on the business phone.
“Oh cool, you’re still there,” Johnny said. There was a lot of noise in the background; it sounded like he was at a bar. Knowing him, he was throwing his money around and looking for a hot hookup for the night. Ugh.
“I really, really need your help,” Johnny said, sounding genuinely worried. “It’s about my mom.”
“Is she okay?” I asked. Johnny’s mother was as snobby and spoiled as he was, but still, I hoped nothing was wrong with her. I met her once or twice, and she was nice. I had visions of her lying in the hospital after having a stroke or something.
“She has a really important function coming up, and she has to get her fur coat cleaned. I put it in the hall closet at the office. I totally spaced and forgot to ask you to drop it off at the dry cleaners. She’s got to have it by tomorrow night.”
“Johnny, it’s already dark out. I’d have to walk it over, and I’m already working late. I was just about to leave.”
“Then you can do it on your way home. Just drive over real quick and drop it off. Please, Ro?”
I closed my eyes. I hated when he called me “Ro.” I hated when he spoke. I hated when he breathed. After having worked for him for three years, he should know I didn’t have a car and I take the D.C. Metro to get home. It would be a cold walk to the dry cleaners.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Thanks, Ro. You’re the be—”
I hung up on him. I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice one second longer.
I had to work for a living. I needed a full-time job, but it didn’t have to be this one. I knew I had to start looking for a new job immediately. Working for Johnny was crushing my very soul. I knew I had to get out of here. As soon as humanly possible.
Chapter 2
It was good to be Johnny Creel, that was for sure. I woke up around 9:30am and happily remembered it was Friday. Stretching out on my huge, comfy bed, I glanced at the empty spot next to me. It wouldn’t be empty tonight. I didn’t know who would be there, but I wouldn’t be alone. My cock twitched at the mere thought.
As comfortable as I was, I figured I’d better get up soon. I always stopped by the office on Thursdays and Fridays to check up on my little worker bees. I groaned a bit as I got up. Sometimes I wished I could just stay in my cozy bed all day. Who was I kidding? Sometimes I did just that.
I hopped into the shower, which was Mindy’s cue to get my breakfast and coffee going. My housekeeper-slash-chef had service down to a science. She knew how to anticipate my every need. Mindy was always around at mealtimes or when something needed to be cleaned, yet she knew how to make herself scarce when the situation warranted. Mainly, when I brought a guest home for the night. Or for at least part of the night. The fun part.
After I showered and shaved, I headed to the kitchen. I had the best apartment in the building; the penthouse on the top floor. Being sleek and modern, it was obvious that a guy lived here. A wealthy guy. The couches were made of black leather, the tables made of glass, and the lamps were the finest crystal. The entire joint smelled like my L’eau Serge Lutens cologne. That shit cost two hundred bucks a bottle, and I was pretty sure Mindy sprayed it everywhere. I loved it.
After breakfast, I jumped in my gorgeous, deep blue Lamborghini Huracan Spyder and headed to the office. A graduation gift from my dad, that car was my pride and joy. Many a woman had spread her legs for me because of that baby. I’d fucked girls in more places than I could remember: my dad’s yacht, five-star hotels, and my own kitchen table, but one of my favorite memories was when I banged a girl on the hood of my Lambo. Women never came harder than after they’d taken a spin in that car. My dick even looked bigger because of that sleek, blue Spyder.
I flipped my Dior sunglasses off as I walked through the front door of Affluent Accent Accessories. I hoped nothing important was going on today, because I wanted to hit the gym and get a little shopping done before going out tonight.
“Good morning, everybody!”
Rosemary smiled up at me. She was wearing one of those sexy, low-cut black blouses that showed off her amazing tits. Made me wish we had walk-in customers instead of just taking phone and online orders. A hot girl like her could really move some merchandise. Like those girls you saw draped all over fancy cars like the one I owned.
“Hey, Johnny!” Tony called cheerfully.
Tony was a good guy. I liked that I could trust him to run this joint smoothly, and he seemed to appreciate having a nice boss. All my workers did. They were lucky to have an easygoing guy like me in charge.
“Can I get some coffee, Ro?” I asked, stealing another glance at her chest.
“Sure!” she chirped, getting up right away.
I surveyed the place as I waited for my coffee. The warehouse guys were busy running around, so that was a good sign. Meant business was doing well, and they had lots of orders to fill. I watched that scrawny boy—Cory, or whatever his name was—moving boxes around. The kid walked around with a near-constant boner. I was the same way at his age. I couldn’t say I blamed him, what with Rosemary’s boobs hanging out of her blouse. Kid probably spent half his life jerking off.
Rosemary brought my coffee and I took a sip. It tasted sweet and hot, just the way I liked it.
“I stayed late last night and took care of your mother’s fur coat for you,” she told me.
“Thanks,” I said, not looking at her. I was still keeping an eye on the stock guys to make sure they were all working. I took a stroll through the warehouse, and everybody looked up and smiled at me.
“Hey, hey!” I called out to them.
“Hey, Johnny, how’s it goin’?” called one of the guys. I didn’t remember his name. I wasn’t sure I’d ever known it.
“Good, good. It’s Friday, right?” I said, and then took another sip of coffee. I grabbed a Snickers bar from the delivery-guy stash before walking back into the main part of the office.
“Hey, good morning, Johnny,” Clara said as she walked around, handing out paychecks.
I nodded at her. I reflected on the meeting we had yesterday. Went pretty well, I thought. I was jazzed about having a new brochure to send out to our customers.
“Ro, how’s the new brochure coming along?” I asked her.
She sighed and flipped her red hair out of her face. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to work on it yet. Things have been crazy around here. Lots of orders coming in, so that’s good.”
Fuck. I was hoping she’d at least started on the damned thing.
“Okay well, it’s gotta be done ASAP, since we need it well before the Christmas rush.”
Rosemary opened her mouth to say something, but I really didn’t feel like being stuck at the office any longer. I was already bored. “I’m gonna head home to get some work done. Have a great weekend, everybody!”
As I put my coffee cup and spoon on Rosemary’s desk, I heard a chorus of goodbyes and well-wishes for the weekend. I chuckled to myself. They thought I was home working all the time when I wasn’t in the office, but I didn’t even have a computer at home. Well, I did have one. It was in a closet somewhere.
I parked my Spyder a few blocks from the gym and enjoyed the looks I got as I climbed out. My dark blue Lambo was an a
ttention-grabber, that was for sure. People stared at the car, and then at me to see if I was somebody famous. Not everybody recognized me as the playboy son of the legendary Creel family, but lots of people did. And even if they didn’t know me, they drooled over my car and that never, ever got old. Eat your heart out, folks, I thought as I headed toward the gym.
I walked past a guy who was about my height and build but about thirty pounds heavier. He wasn’t a bad-looking dude, but he needed to dump that extra weight. It always amazed me how lazy people could be. If that guy just hit the gym a few times a week, he’d be killing it with the ladies. Grabbing some vitamins and bodybuilding drinks wouldn’t hurt him either. I was proud of my body because I worked hard for it.
I went home, showered, and took a nap after the gym. When I woke up, I put on my Saint Lauren jeans and Montcler long-sleeved black polo shirt. The shirt was nice and tight, and it showed off my physique. I wanted to look casual, yet make it clear I had plenty of money to throw around for whatever girl I took home tonight. It was easier if the chick recognized me as the Johnny Creel, but even if she didn’t, she’d know I had the cash to treat her right. I’d treat her right in bed, too, that was for damned sure.
I met up with a few buddies at The Federal, a swanky hotel, bar, and five-star restaurant in the heart of D.C. It was the perfect place for me; if I got too drunk to make it home, I’d just rent a room and take the girl there for the night. My friends Aaron and David both came from wealthy families and had the same game plan for the evening as I did. Get half-wasted, find a girl, and take her home and bang the shit out of her. Damn, life was good.
David, as per his usual, was dressed in an expensive, tailored suit. He worked for his father’s real estate empire and was always dressed to kill. He tipped his glass of scotch at me by way of greeting.
Aaron rested his elbow on the bar as he chugged his beer. He drank so much so fast every time he came here, that I often wondered how he could perform sexually at all. Girls went nuts for him, though. He had a huge build, blond hair, and blue eyes; like a Ken doll come to life. He drunkenly shook his head at the TV and muttered, “Fuckin’ theater fags.”
“What now?” I asked.
Beer in hand, Aaron gestured sloppily at the television perched up in the corner of the bar. The sound was down, but the scroll at the bottom said the musical, Hamilton, was coming to D.C. soon.
“They never shut up about that stupid show,” Aaron said. “Well, I guess it’s one of the few musicals that actually made any money.”
Aaron said the word “musicals” like it was something disgusting in his mouth. This wasn’t the first time Aaron had gone on a rant about “theater fags.” To him, and a lot of business-minded guys I hung out with, anything artistic was a complete waste of time. Aaron was a young, hotshot attorney who came from a wealthy family. We both grew up revering our fathers for the all the money they made; their success was clearly defined in numbers. Each successful business deal made you stronger, more powerful, and better than your rivals. Art was a complete waste of time to people like us.
I was only on my second beer—twenty dollars a pop, thank you very much—and hadn’t even had the chance to survey the joint to see who looked good tonight when a woman in hot-as-fuck stilettos walked up to me and smiled. I glanced down at her shoes and imagined what they were going to look like in bed with her legs spread wide open for me. The girl had dark brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a killer body.
“Aren’t you Johnny Creel?” she asked, biting her lip. She looked at me hungrily, and I knew this was gonna be one hell of a night.
“Yes, I am. Can I buy you a drink?” I asked her.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. My buddies grinned as they moved over to make space for her to sit.
“Thanks. I’d love a martini,” she purred in my ear.
We had four drinks more between us and made pointless small talk for a bit before heading back to my place. And yeah, it wasn’t long before those stilettos were wrapped around my back.
At my request, she stripped completely naked except for those shoes. Even though the missionary position never held my interest for long, I banged her that way for a while until I got her motor running. Then I pulled out so I could tongue her and get her to come and come hard. I found that once I got a woman off, she’d let me pretty much do whatever I wanted to her afterward.
“Johnny! Johnny! Oh God, Johnny!” The brown-haired girl cried as I stroked her clit with my tongue. There was nothing hotter than hearing a woman scream my name during sex. It made me feel like the ultimate alpha male. Besides, I had a reputation to protect. Being a billionaire wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to be known as a billionaire with a huge cock who was great in bed. I loved the control, the power. Sometimes I liked to stop what I was doing just to hear a girl beg for it. Right now, I was so goddamned hot and horny that I just wanted to get her finished so I could have my fun.
“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as she fisted my hair in her hands. “Ohhhh …” I could hear her orgasm building and knew it wouldn’t be long. “Johnny … Johnny … Oh God …” As much as I loved hearing her say my name, I couldn’t for the life of me remember hers. “Oh, oh, oh!” the girl screamed as her body rocked as she climaxed.
She lay there panting, and I gave her a few moments to recover. I grinned cockily at her and said, “You’re welcome.”
Then I picked her up out of bed and carried her over to my dresser to stand in front of the mirror, without asking her permission. I mean, I’m not a monster. If she said no, of course I would stop, but I didn’t hear any complaints. She was still basking in the afterglow of her orgasm and didn’t seem to care what happened next. I bent her over the dresser. When I heard her moan softly, I knew it was cool with her.
I rammed into her and she held onto the dresser for dear life. I fucking loved taking a woman from behind. I loved watching her grip the edge of the furniture, bracing for my hard thrusts. I especially loved watching myself bang a girl in front of the mirror. Got me off like nothing else. I held onto the dresser with one hand to get more traction and grabbed her tits with my other hand.
“You like that, baby? You like it hard like that?”
“Fuck me, Johnny. Fuck me hard!” I loved hearing her get aroused all over again. Her nipples were hard and I realized she might be up for round two. I didn’t mind fingering her or tonguing her again if she wanted when I was done. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.
“That’s it. Take it, baby,” I said, as I thrust in and out of her. Yes, baby would have to be her name for the remainder of the night.
“Ohhhhh,” she purred, as I slammed into her. “I can’t wait to tell my friends I got fucked by Johnny Creel.”
Oh yeah. It’s good to be Johnny Creel, I thought as I came inside her with an explosion of pleasure and power.
Chapter 3
My nuclear meltdown was inevitable. I was already having a horrible day, my stress and frustration gathering pressure like a highly combustible powder keg.
Then Johnny Creel flicked the final ash that set off the explosion.
My Thursday started by missing the first Metro train. I had to dash through the rain for several blocks before I got to the office. Since I arrived late, I started the day behind in my work, but I had to leave on time no matter what. I had an important audition that I’d spent weeks preparing for, and I wasn’t going to mess it up for anything. Especially not for Johnny Creep.
It was the height of the Christmas rush and everybody was stressed. We were all working hard to fill orders on time and keep the customers happy, but mistakes are inevitable when you’re overworked. Johnny strolled in around 10am, when I was on the phone with an irate customer. He just stood there listening and judging during the whole conversation.
“Yes, I understand why you’re upset,” I said to the rich, spoiled brat on the phone while the other rich, spoiled brat hovered around my desk. “We would be happy to send you the correct shipment right
away. We can overnight it, so you’ll receive it in plenty of time for Christmas. Well no, sir, we couldn’t overnight it tonight. It was a monogrammed tire pump, so we need time to get it from the engraver—Yes. Sir … sir … sir …” I swallowed hard and tried to keep calm. “Sir, I’m happy to help you, but I’m going to have to ask you not to use language like that with me.”
Johnny shook his head, looking visibly distressed. If I’d been new on the job, I’d have thought Johnny was upset with the prick on the other end of the line who was verbally abusing me. After three years of working for him, I knew Johnny better than that. He was upset with me, and I’d get a verbal reprimand as soon as I got off the phone. The customer was always right, according to Johnny. Especially if that customer was rich.
“Sir, I will personally see that the order is corrected and sent out to you as soon as possible.” I took a deep breath and let the guy continue to rant at me for a little while. After all, what choice did I have? I glanced over at the warehouse door and saw Bill, one of the warehouse guys, smiling at me with sympathy. His simple gesture of kindness and understanding helped me get through the rest of the stressful phone conversation.
“Who screwed up the order?” Johnny asked the moment I hung up the phone.
“Johnny, we’re all really busy and overwhelmed right now,” I explained wearily. “People make mistakes. We’re going to take care of the customer and make sure everything is okay. It was just a simple mix-up. The guy got the wrong monogrammed tire pump, and—”
“Great,” Johnny grumbled. “That means somebody else got the other one. So two orders got messed up?”
I didn’t answer, but that’s exactly what happened. Except the other customer sent a polite email when he got the wrong order. He was friendly about the whole thing, reassuring us that as long as it got to him by Christmas, it was cool.
“Rosemary,” Johnny said in a singsong voice, speaking to me as if I were a child. “You didn’t answer my question. I asked you who sent out the wrong orders?”
Losing His Shirt Page 2