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I shrug and laugh quietly to myself.
This is the strangest, most amazing day of my whole life.
I thought Becky might just slap my face or scream at my advances, but then again after what I caught her doing? What I know she was thinking about while she was doing it is more to the point.
I hasten to get back to her, eager not to let her out of my sight, but I’m too late.
There are a half dozen ‘members’ in the front bar and lounge area already, making me tense up.
Making me annoyed to the point of feeling mad about it.
Protective of her.
Overprotective some might say.
I wanted her to myself for a while longer yet and I give a disapproving look to show it.
She mouths ‘sorry’, pulling beers now instead of pulling at my aching dick. Smiling a fake smile for pricks I’d rather see pinned to the brickwork outside like flies with their wings pulled off.
The six guys here, I figure they’re regulars because Becky seems fine with them.
No password from everyone then? And who has a password anyway? Sounds like a kid’s clubhouse instead of a god damned gentleman’s club.
No doubting it. I almost watched her claim what’s mine, and now I’m pissed because I have to wait hours and hours before I can even begin to stake my own claim on her sleek, sweet little hole.
I grind my jaw, shifting my focus to what I know best.
Looking like I mean business and watching over things. Making sure everything’s as it should be.
Watching over my Becky most of all.
Counting the seconds until I can feel her again, undressing her in my mind for the next ten hours.
Counting the seconds until she’s bouncing on my fat cock, filled with my seed.
That’s how things should be.
How things will be from now on.
Chapter Seven
Becky
I can still taste Dillon on my lips, feel his hands on me long after he’s gone.
He’s only in the next lounge area, but he may as well be on another planet he feels so far away.
I figure he might be getting a dressing down for what we were doing in the basement, but nah. Sawyer would never join the dots.
In his mind, I’m like some sexual leper. Nobody would ever want to go near me.
In his mind. Has he seen himself lately?
Before I can talk myself into doubting anything or being worried about my own problems, the main door to the club starts to swing off its hinges as the regular crowd rolls in.
Saturday night too, which means we’ll be busy.
I’ll be busy.
The last security guy Sawyer had on the front door was an A-hole, but he’s been promoted to work the gaming rooms in the back.
It seems that if you want to get ahead with people like Charlie Sawyer, you need to be chiseled off the same block or cut from the same rotting branch.
I notice an absence of security on the door, but Dillon soon re-appears and he’s not looking pleased I’m surrounded by other men.
It’s alright, I try to tell him with my eyes.
It’s just my job. Our job to keep an eye on these shmucks for a few hours.
He seems okay after a few moments, slotting his mind into work instead of what I know he’d rather be doing with me.
To me.
I smile to myself, still unsure how or even why things have turned out the way they have, but I’m so relieved that it eclipses all the other problems I still have.
My heart palpitates when I see Dillon coming over, leaning all the way over the bar, which isn’t hard for him to do and reaching my ear.
“Password for tonight?” his deep voice murmurs, and I think for a second he means us but no.
There’s a password for each guest or member’s entry and that changes every shift.
No password, no entry. That’s the rule.
Except for Sawyer’s personal guests who we all know by sight.
“It’s ‘Lucky Luke,’” I inform him, noting his pained expression.
I’m trying to tell him about Sawyer’s friends too, but get called to the other end of the bar by a growing crowd of thirsty members who are regulars.
Sawyer’s probably told him anyway, I reason to myself.
I wish to god I had said more. If only I knew how much trouble could come from something so simple not being explained to Dillon beforehand.
The usual crowd grows, with a few unfamiliar faces turning up, but Dillon seems to have a handle on everything.
Those who know the password are let in, the few who don’t or can’t remember take one look at Dillon looming over them and leave without question.
Within the hour I can see he’s the best for the job.
Sawyer must be pleased with himself. But nowhere near as pleased as I am.
Getting to watch Dillon every chance I get isn’t like work at all.
