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I kick open the stall at the end and push her down to her knees. She’s practically begging me to taste me. But she doesn’t call the shots.
I don’t do relationships. In fact, Desiree is the most consistent fuck I’ve had. Otherwise, it’s strictly one-night stands. But every year like clockwork, she’s here waiting for me. It doesn’t mean anything, at least not for me. Itnevermeans anything to me.
I pull her up off the floor and back her into the wall, locking the stall behind us. I take my hands and place them just inside the opening of her collared shirt before ripping it open and exposing her breasts. No bra.Figures. For the last three years, it’s been the same damn thing.
“I’m so sorry,” she pants. I hike up her skirt as she reaches for my belt, but I smack her hand away before she gets there.
“The rules,” I huff. She doesn’t touch me unless I permit. I am in charge, and she obeys. Those are the rules. I yank her underwear down to her ankles and rip my belt off. I turn her over, face to the wall.
I turn her back over, pulling my dick out of my pants. I take a condom from my wallet and slip it on before thrusting into her.
“Yes, daddy!” she screams, and I’m immediately grossed out. I hate that.Why do women think we want to be called daddy?
I flip her over back into the wall and position myself behind her. But as I do this, like I have done successfully in years prior, I realize something isn’t right. I’m going soft and I’m so out of sorts, even having this girl willing to submit to me feels off. So I pull away from her, and she sighs in annoyance.
“What the hell?” She turns to face me.
“This shit has become way too predictable. I’m over it.” I can tell my words insult her, but I don’t really owe her an explanation.
I live life in the dull areas, the areas that are darkest where not a lot of light shines through. Why? You can blame that on my dad. It’s all I know. But surprisingly, I’ve been okay with it. I don’t know how to do anything except to take what I want. And usually, it’s on my terms. But something about this lifestyle I’m choosing to live just doesn’t feel right anymore.
“Callan, come on. Don’t you like a little role play?” she pleads, and I usually do like roleplaying, but I feel sick looking at what I’m doing. It doesn’t feel right to keep doing this. Almost like I’m too old to be fucking around this way.
I roll my eyes as I pull my belt back through my pant loops and unlock the stall, leaving her there breathless as I walk away.
But then I remember something. I turn back around and approach her again. I lean into her and take the pen from her ponytail before leaving the bathroom. After all, I’ll need something to sign the paperwork with.
Business is business.
one
Sterling
ONE YEAR LATER
Ican’tgetmyshirt off fast enough. Why did I decide to wear a full-blown button up today? The buttons keep getting caught; I try to fish them through the holes, but they just won’t budge. I take heavy breaths, trying to pull the material away from my skin, I’m hot and sweaty. Unbuttoning a shirt is a lot of work and I decide that I don’t have time for this, so I yank the blouse from my chest. Fabric tears against my skin and the buttons start flying into the air. Finally, I’m free.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, looking at me behind puppy dog eyes, “I can’t believe I did that.”
I look over at the twelve-year-old girl, her brown eyes looking back at me behind tears, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t think I would puke,” she cries.
“It’s okay, Sara. But I did tell you to slow down on the candy. I told you it was going to make your stomach sick.” I did tell her, but as most pre-teens on a mission to prove someone wrong, she just didn’t listen.
I realize I still have vomit on my chest, almost vomiting myself from the smell; sour patch kids and rotten milk, curdled in Christmas colors.
I take Sara over to the shower and start the water. She apologizes again.
“It’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I help her into the shower and make sure she has a towel before leaving her to clean herself off.
It’s Friday night, and while I should be out with friends, maybe at a party or a club, I’m here working,because really, that’s all I have time for.For the last year I’ve been babysitting Sara most weekends and I’ll be honest, I prefer it over the party life. I’ve never been one to have a ton of friends and life took a sharp turn when I decided to leave home. I have to be an adult now, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I feel like I’m missing something. Like I missed out on life after high school.
I look at myself in the mirror.Pathetic. The only time I get to rip off my clothes is when a twelve-year-old pukes on me.
I walk over to Mrs. Chen’s closet and grab an old shirt that I know she won’t miss, because her closet is worth more than my entire apartment and I know she doesn’t even wear half of this crap. I use a hot washcloth and some of her fancy body wash to speedily clean myself over their bathroom sink. I pull the Yellowstone National Park T-shirt over my head and steal a spritz of perfume before heading downstairs.
I pull out my phone to text Dakota, my only friend.
Hope you’re having a fun night! Be safe.
