I was so floored that I couldn’t speak. Hot tears trickled down my cheeks as I looked down at the floor. My daddy, the one I’d thought was amazing, handsome, charismatic, who cared about me, was now with another woman? I was hurt, devastated although I told myself I shouldn’t be.
“Oh I see,” I said quietly.
“That’s it, honey, buck up,” said my mom. “Try to make a good life for yourself. It’s not that we don’t care about you. But life is complicated, you know? With the baby on the way and everything ….”
Lorena’s voice trailed off but I couldn’t believe she was so callous about it all. I mean, she should have been doubly threatened with a new woman and a baby living under her nose. So trembling, I asked, “But what about you? Aren’t you afraid that Drake’s going to ask you to leave too?”
And Lorena laughed at that, her voice tinkling with amusement.
“Honey, I was never under any illusion that I was anything but a convenience to your stepdad. I was the maid originally, remember? Someone to vacuum his floors and suck his dick when he felt like it. So cheer up, honey,” she encouraged again. “Drake’s going to fund your apartment for two years while you get on your feet, and I had sex with those dolts at the Donkey Club so they’d give you a job. It was all part of the plan, okay baby? Don’t worry about me, I’m going to be fine, just worry about you.”
And choking back sobs, I hung up the phone. This was some fucking twisted turn of events. My mom and step-dad, they’d propelled me into a den of sin, encouraging me to bare my body, even sell it to the highest bidder. But I was determined to find my own way here on out … Drake’s money be damned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Drake
I kept thinking that Cleo would come home. Lorena’s proclamations that Cleo was going to be a famous model were overblown sure, but even if she did become famous, the little girl should come home to see her parents, right? Especially a daddy who loved her.
I missed her more than I cared to admit. I’ve been a playboy all these years, even after my marriage. My general approach to life is that pussy is there to be fucked, so why not me? I’m pretty indiscriminate so long as she’s attractive, voluptuous, and doesn’t talk too much.
But something changed with Cleo. Suddenly I found it difficult to get excited about other women. Of course, my little girl and I had never promised to be exclusive, after all we’d only slept together for two weeks. But the memories were overwhelming. Cleo at sixteen, all long legs and an innocent expression. Cleo at seventeen, beginning to fill out, her body developing curves. And finally at eighteen … ripe for the picking.
Lorena tried to comfort me. Knowing that I was no longer interested in her sassy curves, she offered Marie, our dog-walker. Because yeah, there was no pretense that we were even interested in each other anymore, Lorena stays with Carlos in the pool house now while I’m holed up in the mansion.
But my wife knows her place and never neglects me for too long, instead looking for substitutes, replacements for the beautiful Cleo. What was wrong with subbing her daughter? Oh right, she’s my step, we’re technically related.
“Drake, you’ve got to let Cleo go,” Lorena purred. “Cleo’s got her own life, she wants to explore the world as a model, fly around and see places, meet new people. She’s young, she’s not going to stick around with us old fogies forever.”
I snorted. Lorena and I were hardly old fogies, and I shook my head disgusted.
But the woman could read my mind.
“To her, we’re old fogies,” she reprimanded gently. “Anyone over thirty is ancient to Cleo, so let her spread her wings a little, see what the world has to offer. Besides, what about Marie? She’s perfect,” she purred. “An athletic blonde will be good for you.”
I thought about Marie. She was cute, sure, in a wholesome, All-American way, tanned with freckles, a strong build. Our dogs loved her, but I just couldn’t get Mr. Happy to bite.
“Nah,” I said dismissively. “I’m not feeling it.”
Lorena gave me a disbelieving look, startled because I was turning down free pussy. But she smiled slyly.
“How about this then?” she asked, slipping the strap of her sundress off her shoulder, baring a big jug that jumped and swayed.
I have to admit, I was tempted. I’ve always been a titty man and Lorena had a nice pair, bronzed with dark nipples, often leaking from some kind of hormonal imbalance. I should have figured something was up. The innocent sundress wasn’t really her style, she was more of a body-hugging cocktail dress woman. But even the promise of a good suckle couldn’t tempt me. I wanted pale, creamy flesh, not the brown gazongas Lorena was offering.