by Mia Madison
My sudden attraction to Zane - at least for me, immediately - was the way he looked at me. His jaw dropped when I opened the door. His eyes followed every curve of my body, including my breasts and lips, before they met mine. I was young, but men who didn’t know how to do anything more than gawk at me had already put me off.
I knew for a fact that Zane would know what to do with every inch of me. His expression was saturated with the calculated contemplation of a man who sized up women quickly and assessed their ability to handle him.
Plus, he was quiet. No matter how many women lusted after him, he wasn’t the guy you’d catch having locker room talk when women weren’t around. I’d walked in on plenty of conversations with him and Parker, and not once was he disrespectful. Parker was surprised to admit that he’d never seen Zane even look in another woman’s direction while he was married.
That kind of intensity was sexy. Being sized up like prey is what I get paid for at Hooters. But those men are generally married, horny, and lonely. Their flirtatiousness ended once the check was paid. Zane didn’t pay to size me up, and he didn’t come here for my attention. It was natural, organic.
Yet so forbidden.
Pushing Zane out of my mind, I focused on the task at hand. Finding a car that was both attractive and affordable. Craigslist might not have been the perfect choice for a young woman in Los Angeles, but the truth was I needed to get the car on my own, and there weren’t any other places I knew of to buy a cash car within my timeframe.
A beautiful red Mustang caught my eye. The 2008 muscle car was sporty, stylish, and sexy. With 170,000 miles on it, and a grey leather interior, it was only $6,500 – but a clearly firm cash offer.
Gazing at the car, I fell in love. Each moment, its slightly tinted windows, shiny tires, and gorgeous cherry red paint whispered, “I’m the one.”
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “I have to have this car.”
Visions of driving back to campus in my new Mustang made my nipples hard. I’d actually stand out among my friends, who all teased me for driving an “old lady car.” They had newer cars that were nice, BMWs and Porsches, but nothing like this.
Mustangs were cool to me. They were all-American, affordable, attractive, and stylish. They appealed to all ages, and all lifestyles. I didn’t need a BMW or Lexus. Their insurance prices were insane, and mom and Parker insisted I drive something practical and keep my focus on school.
My mouth continued to water at my new car fantasy. I needed this car. But I also needed another $3,500 to get it.
“Shoot! Where can I get $3,500 in a week?”
I pulled out a piece of paper and started brainstorming. I could try to pick up a few extra shifts at work, but it would only get me an extra $1,000 at most, and that’s if I tried hard enough.
Perhaps Dad can help, I mused. My biological father lived out of state, and barely kept in touch with me. He and mom had split when I was young. He too, was an athlete, but he lived his lifestyle to the fullest, and kept his distance once they’d split. His time was mostly spent with his new wife, and their kids. I had two half-brothers by them, but due to their “busy schedule,” I never get to see them.
Regardless, my real father was financially generous. He seemed to prefer cutting checks instead of spending time with me. It used to hurt, but I stopped giving a damn once Parker came into my life. He made sure I never wanted for anything. He raised me as if I was his own.
As much as Parker was like a father to me, I couldn’t lean on him for this favor. I’d call my sperm donor, and see what he could do.
Per usual, when I did call, the phone went straight to voicemail. I text him.
Dad, my car blew out. Saved up enough to buy a new car, but I need $3,500 to pay in full. I need it for school. Can you help?
I sighed and set the phone down. I wouldn’t hear from him until at least a day later.
This car was it. When I saw something I wanted, I zeroed in on it and didn’t let up. I rolled through the pictures of the car, examining its details and scouring through its appearance. I didn’t think I’d find anything wrong with it, but I couldn’t help but hope I’d see something that would transform my desire for it, so I wouldn’t drive myself crazy with need for it.
I’m passionate like that.
“Whatcha strain’ at?” Parker said. He and Zane emerged from the back.
“I’m just checking out this car I like.” I rotated the screen so they could see the laptop. Parker nodded his head in approval. Zane whistled.
“That’s a cute little car.” He leaned in. “It’s $6500. Isn’t that out of your budget?”
“It is, however, I text my dad to see if he can give me the rest.” I shrugged. “He’s usually good for that.”
“Make sure you get the VIN number and do a CarFax on it,” Parker suggested. “It’s nice, but there could be something going on with it.”
“Check the insurance quotes also,” Zane added. “You don’t want a gorgeous car with ridiculous insurance.” His eyes burned into mine, an unspoken intensity crackling in them, before slapping Parker on the back. “Aight buddy. Good to see you. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
He nodded to me, “Take care GiGi. If I don’t see you before you head out to campus, be good at school. Stay focused.”
“I will. Thanks Zane. Good to see you too.” I smiled and waved, respectful and friendly, but in my mind, all I could think was Zayummmm Zaddy.
4
Zane
I could barely keep up with Parker’s conversation when he walked me to the car. Blood rushed to my ears, and there was a pounding in my chest.
I wanted Ginger. I wanted to be inside Ginger, and there was nothing friendly or polite about that.
I bit my lip to keep my cool, simply nodding as Parker spoke. I couldn’t run the risk of blurting out how fucking hot his daughter was. Ginger wasn’t his biological daughter, but you couldn’t tell him that. He loved her as if he’d conceived her, and protected her just the same.
He was my agent. Even if he did approve, there was no way in hell it’d make sense. You don’t mix business with pleasure, and money was paramount.
I don’t play with my money. And I don’t play with my friends. I don’t play with women either. But there was something about those deep brown eyes and that flirtatious, friendly attitude… those ripe tits, and her unassuming energy that did me in.
“Yeah, that works,” I said, responding to nothing in particular. “Okay, I’ve gotta jet, man.” I jumped in my car, mumbling something about having to catch up with something at the house and peeled out of the driveway.
I ignored the crazy look he gave me. He would have looked at me crazier if he looked down and saw the raging erection that was starting to build in my pants.
You can’t tell one of your best friends - who is also your agent - the truth: that his daughter’s turning you on. “Sorry man, gotta go. Your daughter came back from college hot as fuck. She’s got the nicest tits I’ve ever seen. I’d love to watch them bounce in the mirror while I’m hitting her from the back.”
Even if she wasn’t off-limits, I wouldn’t talk like that anyway. Not to him, or anyone. In this day and age, almost everything seems to become public knowledge for the right price. I was never in the habit of kissing and telling, and I wouldn’t start at this point in my life, even if it was my best friend. Made for boring locker room talk, but intelligent minds would segue their conversations into more substantial topics.
Thoughts of Ginger consumed me the whole ride home. My cock was so hard it hurt. I pulled into my driveway with just enough composure left to make it into the house, slam the door, and collapse against it.
Groaning with need, I unzipped my pants, freeing my 8.5 inch cock. Nearly every vein on my shaft was fully defined, a clear indication that I was ready to pop.
Stroking myself, I thought about Ginger in her modest white tank top and shorts. I imagined her peeling them off for me, teasing me with her pushup bra, not that
she needed one, before unclasping it ever so slowly. Freeing those gorgeous, plump tits for my viewing pleasure. I imagined her nipples to pretty and sweet, like pink Starbursts.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” I grunted. Jets of hot, white cum surged from my nuts, up my shaft, and out the head of my cock, spewing my dirty thoughts everywhere. My hand was covered with seed.
Fuck it. I needed a shower anyway.
5
GiGi
Dad called me back later in the evening. He wanted details on what happened with my car. When I explained the situation, he sighed.
“Yeah, it makes no sense to put more money into a car than it’s worth. Can you handle a Mustang though? I don’t want to hear your mother’s voice about it.”
“I’m going to spend a few weeks driving it so I can get used to its muscle,” I promised. “I know it’s an adjustment from what I’ve had.”
He sighed. “Alright. I don’t want any accidents or reckless behavior. And you need to keep your grades up. If you can do that, maybe we can look into getting you a newer model at the end of the school year.”
My eyes widened. “Really? Thanks Dad.”
“No problem,” he said. “Just be patient. I’m heading out on vacation with Jasmine and the kids. I can do it after we return from Rome.” At that point, one of the boys screamed for him in the background. “I have to go – we’re about to eat. I’ll send you a check for $3,000 in about two weeks. Will that work?”
Fuck. I need that money quicker, but I’ll have to take it for now.
“Sure, dad!” I did my best to mask the disappointment in my tone. “Thanks so much dad. You’re the best!”
“You’re welcome, honey. Tell everyone hello,” he said before hanging up the phone.
I couldn’t help but feel a sting in my heart also. The fact that he was so quick to rush off the phone to eat with his other children almost hurt as much as the fact that he would take so long to send the money.
What if the Cherry was sold by then?
Yes, Cherry. I already had a name for her.
I groaned in frustration. I needed a better plan. Sure, I’d have an extra $3,000, but I needed it now. Who else could I reach out to for help?
I looked at the car. I’d emailed the listing to myself, and saved the photos to my phone. I DM’ed pictures of the car to my best friends, Elle and Laura, hoping to get their opinion.
“Oh my gosh!” Elle typed. “Totally you. That’s so perfect for you.”
“Agreed.” Laura added a thumbs up emoji. “It’s pretty and sexy, but not too flashy.”
Both Elle and Laura were daughters of Hollywood stars. They drove expensive sports cars, usually hand-me-downs from their parents and siblings, but they understood my practical attitude about flashing wealth. I didn’t need to have the hottest, flashiest car off the lot, just something attractive while I traveled back and forth to school. (And work, if mom allowed it.)
“Thanks. I just have to see it in person… and wait for dad to send me money.” I added a few eye roll emojis.
We chatted about general things. Laura’s new love interest, and Elle’s obsession with monokinis. Summer was slowly coming to an end, but the beautiful weather of Los Angeles never really put an end to bikini season. Thankfully, I had more than enough swimwear to cover me for the next few months.
“Have you still been on hiatus?” Elle asked. She referred to my dating hiatus.
“Yes, and it’s going awesome.” I accented my response with heart-eyed emojis. “I think I’ll extend it a little longer.”
I wasn’t dating at the moment. My last relationship ended at the end of the spring semester. Summer flings weren’t my kind of thing. If we were going to be together, we’d need to be together, without having to take “breaks” for the summer. Besides, most guys think dating a Hooters girl is cute, until they realize how coveted she is. Then they become insecure.
If not that, most guys my age weren’t ready to settle down. They were establishing their futures. Any time or energy they outside of work and school was relegated to activities they deemed just “for fun.” I’d seen more than enough of that “fun” lead to heartbreak and ruin, both for myself and my friends.
I didn’t have any time for fun that would distract me from my grades, especially this year.
“Awww. Well don’t drown yourself in seriousness.”
“I won’t. I work at Hooters. There are plenty of men, and plenty of fun to be had. With $$$!”
We shared photos for another 10 minutes, until I fell asleep, visions of Cherry dancing in my head.
6
Zane
Waking up at 11 AM every day should be a benefit of being retired with more money than you can imagine, but not for me. I needed to be up by no later than 8 AM.
I was just a morning person. Or still heavily trained from my athletic days.
Today started like any other day, except I had a raging hard-on. I dreamt of Ginger all night. We made love in the most fantastic of ways. Thoughts of our limbs twisting into one another as we lived out some of my nastiest fantasies filled my bloodstream and headed straight for my cock.
Before I knew it, I’d found her Facebook profile. It wasn’t because I wanted to post anything on her wall. She barely used it; most Millennials don’t. But she linked it to her Instagram profile, and that was what I was after.
Her profile, @Ginger.Spiice, was public, allowing her to use it as a self-promotional tool. I had an Instagram account, but my management team controlled it. I rarely logged in on my own, having no use for direct engagement, but this morning was different.
I gripped my thick shaft with one hand as I scrolled through her images with another. Gotdamn, she was beautiful. How did she blossom into such a goddess under my nose?
Because you were married. Fully married. Devoted. Loyal. 100% faithful to the woman you loved, until she walked in and told you she didn’t love you anymore.
I growled aloud, pushing the memory of that event out of my mind. My eyes fell to a picture of Ginger laughing on the boardwalk with her friends. She wore a yellow bikini top, accented with rhinestones. Her lower half was covered in a yellow and orange sarong, a swirl of bright colors in some girly pattern. Her flat stomach was exposed, giving me a glimpse of her shimmering belly ring.
Belly rings were so sexy to me. There was something about the soft curve of a woman’s tummy that was undeniably feminine and alluring. I licked my lips, acknowledging my desire to run my tongue along that soft area of flesh.
The next picture was even more alluring. It was a close-up shot of her, in her bikini top. Her top was wet, and her nipples were hard. If you looked close enough, you could almost make out those pink Starburst areolae.
My hand stroked up and down my shaft at a more fervent pace. I felt crazed; I don’t remember the last time I’d become so enraptured with a woman besides Danielle.
“You look so sexy. You have no idea the affect you have on me. Those tits are something else. I’d love to slide my cock between-”
My morning rendezvous was interrupted by a phone call. It was my personal assistant, Christina.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Hendrix, it’s Christina.”
“Good morning. How are you? Is everything okay?” She usually never called me this early, or rather at all. She worked from 11 AM to 5 PM on a daily basis without badgering me.
“My mother’s been hospitalized. I’m not sure how serious it is, but she’s in San Diego.” She paused, and then blurted. “My flight leaves in an hour. I’m at the airport.” Her voice cracked as she shared emotional apologies.
“Shhh. It’s okay Christina. Go tend to your mother. Family is all you have in this world. I’ll make arrangements to cover you over the next few days.”
“What if I need longer than that?”
“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about me. Take care of your mother.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hendrix.”
The call disconnected, bringing Ginger’s
image back to the screen. Unfortunate, because my arousal had deadened. Christina was my best - and dare I say only - employee. She managed my daily minor affairs and kept things running smoothly no matter what happened.
I didn’t trust just anyone to work for me. I required a high level of privacy, and didn’t want to have to tell you the same thing twice; otherwise, why hire you?
Looks like I’ll have to figure out where to get a temporary employee for the next week or so.
7
GiGi
I woke up feeling pretty focused. Getting up on the right side of the bed this morning was only further enhanced by the fact that things were rolling in the right direction. I emailed Cherry’s owner, and they happily provided the VIN.
Cherry’s CarFax showed she’d only been in one accident, and the damage was very minor. The mileage checked out, and the price was right.
All I needed to do was schedule a time to look at the vehicle, and perhaps discuss a payment plan. There were multiple offers, but the person with the best offer - of course, cash only - would drive away the winner.
My only issue was competition. This car was well-valued, and I’m sure there were plenty of offers, some going up to $7,000 or higher. People loved their Mustangs.
I desperately needed to get the $3,500 soon, or face losing Cherry forever. Stretching my head and tilting it to the left, and then the right, I got in the shower. While washing up, I focused on my goal: figuring out how and where to get the money needed for the car.
Picking up extra shifts would only go so far. I could make good money, great money even, by working double shifts for the next week, but that would take a toll on me, and I would run the risk of seeing the car sold out anyway. I couldn’t live with that.