Angel (Love, Daddy 1)

“Yeah. That girl is... colorful. Had some unique parting words for you.” He licks his lips, then adds, “And me.”

I shrug. Insults don’t mean a thing to me. “Yeah? I wish her well. It’s a shame.” My stomach roars again, and I push my chair back and stand up.

“You done for tonight?” Allister shoves his hands down into his front pockets, regarding me with a wry smile.

“I think so. I’m going to go have the kitchen make me something to go. Anyone else coming in tonight?” I straighten up the loose papers on my desk into a stack and file them in my drawer. I put my Dunhill pen in my top drawer too, remembering when the staff gave it to me at Christmas. I’m a hard fuck to buy for; I don’t want for anything and don’t want much in general.

But I do appreciate quality and rarity, and they all chipped in and bought me that pen. Probably the best fucking pen in the world. I exhale louder than I expect. I guess I’m just a little tired of all this. I finish by brushing dust off the walnut top of my desk until everything looks in order.

“A few gals are still here to try out.” Allister reaches for his back pocket and pulls out three Polaroids, starts flipping through them. Then he looks at my face with mock concern. “You get some ice on that?”

“It’s fine.”

“Uh huh. You’re not twenty anymore. Next time call for back up.”

There is a low throb coming from under my left eye where I took a punch earlier. It will be purple by morning, but right now it’s just an irritation.

“I got the job done.” My voice sounds gruff. I hate fucking fighting, but I also don’t back down when the situation calls for me to get physical. And when someone lays a hand on one of my girls, the situation calls for it.

“You know we hire bouncers for that shit. You take on three at a time, old man, just at least let me stand behind you. Got it?”

“I haven’t lost a fight yet, have I? Who got carried out of here calling for their mommy? Me? Nope.” I’m pissed because if the bouncers were doing their job, I wouldn’t have to jump in when I see that shit going on. “New subject.”

Allister stares at me and then nods. He knows when I’m not messing around. “No problem.” He flicks one of the pictures against his palm, black Sharpie scrawled across the white strip at the bottom of the photo.

We always take the girls’ names, phone numbers and a quick picture as soon as they come in to apply. Even if they don’t end up working here, we try to establish we are here to help, if they need any help, and get some basic information right up front so we can keep track of everyone that comes in.

He steps toward me, ready to show me the photos, but I’m already up, coming around toward him. I’m grabbing my briefcase off the floor before he can even get close, taking my jacket off the hook, marching for the door.

Allister and I have been friends since we were in boot camp together a thousand years ago. We didn’t end up serving together, but those first weeks of hell bonded us, and we’ve been as close as family ever since. We’re even in height, his build being slightly leaner than mine. Besides working with each other, we work out together four days a week so there is not much we don’t know about each other.

“Here.” He jabs the photos toward me as I work my way to the door. Some guys might get off on the young women that come in for tryouts, but I’m not overly eager to look. It’s all work, we don’t play here. I’ve never touched one of the girls that works for me.

Fuck, I haven’t actually touched a woman in more years than I can count. And when I say touched, I mean as in an arm around the shoulder, or a kiss. No one but Allister knows this, and I doubt anyone would believe me, but that’s about all I’ve done with a woman. Nothing below the belt has ever happened.

Virgin.

Even the word sounds unbelievable to me, but it’s true. I’ve never been overly outgoing, except when it comes to running my business and getting shit done. I’m on the shy side and have never felt comfortable with women in general as far as relationships go. I gave up years ago thinking there was someone out there for me. I figure that part of life just isn’t in my stack of cards.

I know most of the guys that come in here sit there with their dicks hard, watching the harem of beauties that work here. They probably think that as the club owner, my cock samples all the goods. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I don’t even remember the last time I stroked off. If it’s not the real thing, I’m just not all that interested. And I guess I just haven’t met the real thing. And I probably never will.

So I stay focused on work. Not just making money, though that part isn’t awful either. But the other part. Seeing so many of these girls come in over the years looking for work, thinking it was just another seedy club where they would take their clothes off and bang customers in the bathroom for extra cash.

Then when they see what I’m doing here, they see a glimmer of hope for a different future. Since I had started my first club, I’ve gladly paid for my girls’ rehab, attorneys, GEDs, college tuition, and I’ve bashed in some pimps’ faces when they’ve tried to come get back what they think belongs to them.

It’s become my life and I’m proud of each of them when they go off into the world to become whatever is next. Some are now lawyers, PTA mothers, social workers, even doctors.

I take the pictures from Allister’s hand as I pass by and look down at the top photo as I step into the hallway, heading for the club floor.

I’m too tired to care much right now about what wayward young woman we may be able to help, but I pull my shoulders back and try to focus. This is important to me, I remind myself. I love the money I make, but I want to matter. I want to make a difference in someone’s life. That’s what gets me off.

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nbsp; There’s a tug on the skin covering my chest as I pull my shoulders back and the muscles stretch over the scars, reminding me of why I retired when I did from the military. I roll my neck around, trying to loosen the tightness as we get closer to the end of the hallway.

“I can handle it, boss.” Allister says from just behind my left shoulder, sensing my fatigue. “Just get your food, take off, leave it to me. Two of these girls look like they won’t last a day with your rules anyway. And the third,” he makes a noise in his throat, “she looks like she’s never been outside her nursery before. Although, you know, that innocent one has a rack on her. And a fucking ass for days. A little on the thick side, but different strokes for different folks. I guarantee she’s never seen the inside of a club before.”