Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad

Jonah gaped.

“You don’t want to know what the lifestyle is?” he asked. “You knew?” his voice trailed off.

And the girl nodded.

“I saw you at the party, Jonah,” she said softly, “You know, in the room with Sarah. The door was unlocked and I saw how she had a black leather catsuit on, how she whipped you, how she treated you.”

He had the grace to blush because I’m sure there had been some nasty action, the dominatrix stepping on his hand with a spiked heel, or some other messed up sadistic shit.

“Wha-what?” he blubbered. “Why didn’t you say anything? And why didn’t you say anything, Robert? How the fuck did you know?”

So we were back to Robert huh? But Ally didn’t let it derail her.

“Because it was your secret to tell,” she said slowly. “There was no sense in forcing it from you, Jonah, everyone’s got to come to their own truths in their own time. And I didn’t feel comfortable,” she admitted softly. “It was so personal what I saw, and it felt wrong to bring it up until you were ready.”

I was never so proud of my girl and her decision not to confront my son, not to embarrass him, to treat him like a normal human being despite his juvenile ways.

But Jonah wasn’t done yet.

“And how did you know, Robert?” he spat, eyes narrowing. “We haven’t talked since the divorce, how did you find out?”

I shrugged my shoulders. The fact is that Sarah Jones is a well-known dominatrix, and only a select few in NYC can afford her services. So she marketed her abilities to elite businessmen, corporate tycoons who had money to spare, cash to burn. And as one of the chosen few, I’d seen the advertisements, the “word of mouth” references that always got around to powerful men. But there was no need to tell my son this.

“Sarah Jones is a family friend,” I said, speaking in generalities, “and I’ve known the Joneses for a long time, so it wasn’t a secret when you started, ahem, seeing her on a one-on-one basis.”

Jonah’s face grew red then.

“You all knew? Her parents too?”

And I nodded. The Joneses were a powerful couple in NYC circles, of course they knew what their six-foot Amazonian daughter did in her free time, how she supported herself, they weren’t idiots. So I decided to come clean.

“The fact was, I was happy when you started going to Sarah. At least you were with someone who was a family friend, whom we knew was disease-free and not some ho off the streets. So yeah, your mother and I knew the moment you started up.”

And Jonah sat limply then, literally sliding with a thump onto the floor of the apartment, he couldn’t even make it into a chair.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, blood draining from his face. “Oh my god. Mom knows? Oh my god.”

I felt sorry for the little guy, how he looked so tiny and beaten sprawled on the ground, his knees at an odd angle, narrow shoulders slumped. But it was Ally to the rescue.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly, crouching down and rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “There’s nothing wrong with the lifestyle so long as you play safe and stay safe,” she murmured. And again, my heart burst with happiness. Because Ally had a nurturing side, a kind, considerate heart that enabled her to comfort her ex-boyfriend of all people, a boy who’d stepped out on their relationship. But isn’t that how the world works? Kindness in the most unexpected of places, only a woman with a generous heart could manage through a muddle like this.

And as I met Ally’s eyes above the boy’s head, I nodded once more. The brunette was what I was looking for. Her sincerity, the way she gracefully handled trouble, the way she was kind to my son even during his moment of need. If I’d loved her before, then I loved her even more now, and we were going to be together, loving, living, laughing … forever if I could have my way. Alison West was the answer to my dreams and even though I’d started as her boyfriend’s dad, I would be much more to her once I was done.

EPILOGUE

Ally

A few months later …

“Oh god,” I panted. “Oh god, oh god, Mr. Martin.”

The big man merely laughed, shifting his hips to drive in harder.

“Feels good, doesn’t it baby girl? Feels good, right?”

Because it was midnight in our suite at the Bellagio in Vegas, a sumptuous hotel apartment with three bedrooms, three baths, living quarters, a kitchen and a full bar. And like the horny little girl I was, I’d filled up the Jacuzzi tub, turned on all the jets for a rendezvous in the spa with my man. Oh yeah, the water was frothy and bubbly, although it hardly mattered. Whenever Mr. Martin’s dick is in me, it’s the only thing I can think about, my only focal point, making me pant, gasp and whine in ecstasy.