Page 41 of Saving Pookie

But Dixon be replaced? No way in hell. He's been my rock since I started this job. The funny thing is, I've never known him to be jealous. Someone is clearly whispering shit in his ear, and the culprit is most definitely that damn sewer rat.

There's a decent-sized filming crew with cameras aimed at the bar and pool, and the rooftop is packed.

Mr. Pink stands at the front of the swimming pool with a rowdy crowd gathered around him. He's dressed just like all of us stallions—pink cowboy boots, a pink cowboy hat, and white briefs. For being sixty, or seventy, or however the hell old he is, he looks like a fucking stud. He's somehow still ripped, with weathered gray hair all over his chest and abs, not to mention the well-groomed beard of wisdom he sports on his face.

"Welcome to our monthly wet night!" He speaks into the microphone, and the crowd erupts with cheers, drowning out the echo of his voice. He waits for it to calm a bit before continuing, "As you probably know, this is our second-to-last pool party for the summer, and I want you to meet our newest stallion." His eyes search the crowd until they settle on Pookie standing to the side of the bar. "Pookie, get up here."

A pink spotlight lands on Pookie, centering him in the bright light. He squints and holds a hand over his eyes as he approaches, pushing his way through the crowd until he comes to rest standing beside Mr. Pink, who wraps one arm around his back.

"Now, some of you might have seen Pookie around. He's been working behind the bar, but tonight, he becomes a bona fide pink stallion." He grips Pookie tighter as a mischievous grin ripples across his lips. "I think that means we should give him the warmest," He glances down at Pookie, "give him the wettest welcome."

I swallow an elongated chuckle as Pookie retreats into himself. Something tells me he hasn't been properly warned about the initiation ritual. I cross my arms and watch, amused.

Mr. Pink aims a finger at the crowd, searching, and settles on a college-aged boy wearing a backward pink cap. "Do you want to do the honors?"

The boy fist pumps and screams, "Hell yeah!"

It appears as if Pookie mouths something to Mr. Pink, but I'm not a lip reader, so I can't decipher what. I imagine it's something along the lines of, 'What the fuck are you doing?' A barback pushes his way through the crowd with a long pink hose snaking behind him. It's a total tripping hazard, but this is show business, baby. He hands the college boy the hose.

Mr. Pink whispers something and steps away to the front of the crowd, leaving Pookie alone in the spotlight. I circle the back of the crowd to get a better view, grab my phone off the bar, and film the initiation ritual.

Pookie's body trembles a little. He's not like the rest of us—not yet, anyway. He doesn't love the idea of exposing himself. I think back to the first time I stood in his very spot, and... well, I actually didn't have stage fright. I've always loved the attention. But Pookie... he's different. Attention: bad. Hiding: good. Up there in front of a packed house of horny men of all ages, there's no hiding.

College boy pulls the trigger, blasting Pookie's bare chest with a torrent of water that soaks him in an instant. A river of water rolls down his chest like a waterfall over his abs—abs that look bigger, stronger than they did before. Has he been working out? The white briefs darken, outlining the shape of his dick and highlighting the rather large, mushroom-shaped crown.

You'd never be able to tell by looking at him in street clothes, but the boy is fucking packing. And he'd kill me for even thinking it, but he carries the exact opposite of big dick energy. He carries small dick energy.

Why am I thinking about his dick?

No, bad thoughts.

Andy's mouth swallowing him whole, and that fucking look on Pookie's face every time Andy flicked his tongue over his cock head. And those lips, trembling as he inched closer to me. Or was I inching closer to him? And the way he whispered moans into my mouth, the way he kissed me...

Hungry.

Insatiable.

Fuck.

I shake my head, hoping to shake the thoughts away.

College boy drops the hose, but is clearly satisfied by the view as he bites into his lower lip. Look at him fawning over my sweet, precious, innocent Pookie. Innocent? Nah. Not after what I saw the other night.

That cock⁠—

Fucking christ on a stick. I stop filming and tuck my phone back behind the bar as Pookie approaches, soaking wet.

He shakes his head like a wet dog, painting my chest with a spray of shaken water. "You couldn't warn me that was going to happen?"

"Where would be the fun in that?" I hand him a hand towel and watch as he dries his face off. "If it makes you feel any better, we'll all be walking out of here tonight with at least a grand each."

"Seriously?" He raises a brow and cocks his head back to the crowd. "I feel like a hooker."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "As long as you don't go home with anyone, you're just playing a part."

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbles under his breath and tips his cowboy hat forward, ready to play the part of the newest star. "I'll see you around," he says as he begrudgingly makes his way into the crowd.

Boone and I man the main bar while Pookie and Gunnar interact with the guests at the pool. The crowd waiting for drinks is about ten people deep all around the bar, and I already can't wait to crawl into my bed and sleep tonight.