Chapter 89

Sunday, July 22

I just lay there with Jan in my arms, trying to digest the blonde goddess’ declaration. How could a 30-something woman and her teenage daughter both be in love with me?

And that didn’t include the fact my own sister had made a similar claim barely two weeks ago. Or that Arlene, the 30-something redheaded goddess, was allegedly in love with me but had yet to admit it, according to multiple sources.

Don’t get me wrong. I liked the idea of beautiful women being in love with me. I just wish one of them would be someone with whom I could openly have a relationship. Right now, the leading candidate was Bethany, and that was just based on hearsay. I could foresee some long talks with the women in my life in the near future, starting with Morgan. She was supposed to be my girlfriend, after all.

I kissed the sleeping blonde on the top of her head, closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take me. With the amount of energy I’d expended this evening, it was a blessedly short wait.

My dream was as wonderful as the night school let out, when I inadvertently took my little sister’s virginity. I remembered disjointed fragments featuring all my lovers, even Fran Goldstein. The capper was a blowjob from Jan, who once again demonstrated her deepthroat ability.

It turned out that part was no dream. I awoke midorgasm to find the blonde goddess with her lips wrapped around the base of my cock, swallowing my offering. It certainly beat the hell out of any electronic alarm. Jan’s bedside clock showed it was 6:15, almost time for me to get up anyway.

“I waited nearly 20 minutes, but I just couldn’t help myself,” she said as she laid herself atop me. “I can’t believe I was jealous of Bethany going around the world with you before me. Think this counts?”

“If you want it to,” I panted. “It’s not like I went and put in a day’s work in the middle of it. I’m sure I would have needed a nap to get through it even if we had done it all in one evening.”

I pretty much gave up on telling these women that this wasn’t a competition. The Metzgers and Arlene, at least, seemed determined not to let anyone get ahead of what they were willing to do sexually. At least Staci Patterson didn’t seem to feel the need to push her boundaries beyond what she already had.

We got up and began getting ready for the day. The clothes I wore Saturday would get me through another day, especially since I’d be changing out of them in just a couple of hours. Jan set me up with a toothbrush and a washrag to get cleaned up and I was ready to hit the road by 6:30.

“This was an incredible night,” I said as I pulled the blonde goddess in for one last kiss. “I hope we can do it again soon.”

“Oh, we will,” she said before sticking her tongue down my throat, “even if I have to kidnap you from all your other girlfriends. Now get out of here before I do just that.”

I swung through a McDonald’s for enough breakfast to get me to lunch and was in a makeup chair before 8 a.m. Sunday’s shoot was more specialty stuff. I kept my cargo shorts on most of the day and modeled socks.

One of the photographers told me about how there was a whole culture of hand and foot models, some of whom commanded fees that were nothing short of exorbitant. I was just glad they didn’t make me shave my legs.

Lunch was again spent with Jenny Smith and her mom. Mrs. Smith approved of my plan to use her daughter’s image for my homemade Christmas cards, asking for a copy of the.jpg file so she could do the same. I’m pretty sure she’d send out more than I would.

The shoot extended into the evening, but they got everything they wanted before it got too late. Armand gave us the postgame peptalk and dismissed us, but grabbed me by the elbow before I could get out of the throng.

“Please see me before you leave,” he said.

I didn’t get the feeling there was anything objectionable in the request. There were plenty of witnesses to the interchange. If nothing else, it raised my curiosity.

I retrieved my gym bag from the car before hitting the showers. It would probably be best to not return home wearing the same clothes I had on when I left yesterday morning. Once I’d cleaned up and dressed, I went in search of the artistic director.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked as I stuck my head through the doorway of his office.

“Yes, Marie said I was to give you this,” he said, holding out a package that looked like it held a couple of college text books. It certainly felt heavy enough.

There was an envelope with my name written on it taped to the top. I thanked Armand, said I’d see him the next time they had an assignment for me and headed to the car.

I placed the package in my gym bag, which I dropped in the passenger seat, and headed to the nearest Dairy Queen to get something to eat. A chili cheeseburger sounded good tonight. I moved the bag to the trunk before I went inside.

I tried to call Morgan while I waited on my order and again got her voicemail. A text received a short reply that she had some errands to run tomorrow morning and would see me sometime after lunch.

It was still early enough after I ate that I decided to stop by the apartment to investigate the mysterious package. Arlene’s house was dark when I pulled in, but she’d obviously been in the apartment since my last visit. All the clothes I’d purchased had been laundered and were hanging neatly from the rod that served as closet space along the wall.

I’d have to come up with something special to thank the redheaded goddess for her kindness. I suspected I’d need to stay away from other women for a couple of days to be charged up enough to show proper appreciation, but I’d have to welcome Morgan home first.

I put the package on the little table in the dining nook and headed into the kitchen to grab a drink and a dinner knife to use as a letter opener, then got down to business. I separated the envelope from the package and opened it up, extracting a handwritten note from Marie on nice stationery.

In the note, she apologized for the way things were handled during our time together and said she did not approve of Julia’s approach to the matter. She assured me it was still too soon to know if she was pregnant, but she felt I deserved the entire amount of cash as recompense for what I’d gone through. Of course, I was never to mention any of this to Julia. She closed by saying she would personally inform me one way or the other and that I should continue to consider offers of modeling work.

My hands were shaking as I took the knife and slit open one end of the package. Inside were straps of $100 bills. Dozens of them. I put the package down, grabbed my phone and punched a number your average 17-year-old shouldn’t have.

“Mr. Patterson? Gary Robinson,” I said. “Sorry to bother you at home. I hope it’s not too late, but I really need your counsel again.”

I told him of the package in my possession and my reluctance to have that much cash on hand, even if I was at my secret hideaway.

“At least you haven’t gotten anyone else pregnant,” he said, a little too jovially for my taste. “I guess I can take a quick stroll around the neighborhood without arousing too much suspicion. Give me a few minutes.”

I just sat there staring at Ben’s face until I heard a rap on the door. I went to answer and let Mr. Patterson in.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” he mused as he looked around. “I must admit to being a little envious. I had to make do with my father’s Oldsmobile until I went off to college.”

I let that one slide. There were some things I didn’t need to know. And I didn’t want to rub his nose in the fact that he was standing just a few feet away from the bed in which I’d deflowered his daughter five nights ago.

“Come on back, sir,” I said as I headed for the table. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I don’t suppose you have any Jack Daniel’s, do you?” he asked as he followed.

“No, sir,” I answered, “but at times like this, it does sound appealing.”

I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“There’s Coke, Dr Pepper, 7-Up, diet sodas, water,” I listed the contents for him. “Take your pick.”

“At least you have mixers,” he said, reaching in and grabbing a DP. “I’d think you’d at least take advantage of your situation to keep a six-pack or two of beer on hand.”