Dr. Daddy's Virgin

"Yeah, baby. Now I really am a dirty girl," Angela moaned and started rubbing my jizz into her skin like lotion. It disgusted me, and I had to turn away so she wouldn't see.

"Get dressed. I've got an appointment with Keith in just a few minutes," I said, desperate to get her off my desk.

I should have ended things with her long ago, but when Kayla disappeared the way she had, I was looking for someone, anyone, to fill the emptiness I was suddenly feeling. I'd n

ever been so hung up on a woman. The night we spent together was incredible, and when I awoke the next morning, I was actually looking forward to spending the entire day with her.

I'd planned it all out in my mind. First, I'd serve her a delicious breakfast in bed, then we'd fuck in the shower and get dressed. I'd take her riding on the pair of bikes I kept at home and show her the most beautiful parts of the city. Then, a romantic picnic at my favorite, secret hide-a-way where I'd fuck her out in the tall grass.

To top off the day, I'd take her shopping on Rodeo Drive and buy her an elegant evening gown and maybe some jewels to go with it. Show her what it was like to be treated right. Then we'd have dinner at the best restaurant in town. I'd take her home with me and we'd spent the whole night fucking just like we had the night before. I'd make her body come in ways she never knew her body could. It would be a magical day shared just between the two of us.

I'd woken up to find she was gone. I drove by her old apartment, but it was obvious from the way Mick was pacing outside yelling at her through his cell phone that she wasn't home. I thought about calling her myself, but I wasn't going to stoop to doing the same thing Mick was doing. She had my number, and she knew where I worked. If Kayla wanted to get a hold of me, she would. The next move was entirely up to her. Only, the next move never came.

Frustrated and alone, I let Angela service me in the way she always had. She had a talented tongue and a decent body, but my enthusiasm just wasn't in it. Every time I wanted to come, I had to close my eyes and think of Kayla. I knew it wasn't fair to Angela, but if Kayla wasn't going to contact me, what else could I do?

"Mr. Colson, Keith Wilkes is here to see you, sir," Angela's voice echoed through the intercom. I startled to realize I hadn't even noticed her leave my office to return to her desk.

"Great. Send him in," I said and moments later, Keith swept through the door with his usual, charming good looks.

"We're ready for the launch. The All-American is available for purchase at all of our retail outlets and the issue of Speed Magazine hits the stands Friday morning. I've got you scheduled for press interviews all that day, and then that evening will be our party celebrating the launch of our newest and greatest motorcycle yet."

"Great job, Keith. You worked your ass off on this one, and I appreciate it. You'll find a bonus on your paycheck this month to prove it."

"Good," he joked, and we shot the bull for a little while, discussing various details about his life and then big the launch campaign. He really was the best of the best.

"Well, it's going to be one hell of a party. Who are you taking as your date this year?" he wanted to know.

"I'm not sure I'll take anybody. These things always get splashed all over the tabloids, and then I get plagued by paparazzi wanting to know if the date I brought is my new girlfriend. I tried that once, and it wasn't for me. Never again. I'll just show up stag. I'm sure you've invited plenty of eligible young models for me to hit on all night long."

It was no secret that I went for the model type, and every aspiring star out there was always trying to hook up with me, hoping it would advance her career by landing her a spot on the cover of my magazine. Unfortunately for them, I didn't trade favors that way; but they didn't need to know that until after I'd come.

"Oh yes, there'll be tons of models there for you to choose from. Speaking of which, I sent an invitation to the launch party to that girl who did the cover shoot, what's her name? Karla Bran?"

"Kayla Brandt," I corrected him.

"Yeah, her. Well, the invitation came back as a wrong address. Can you have Angela dig up her number out of her file and give her call? It would look good for the press if she was at the launch party."

"Sure, will do," I said. A few minutes later, Keith left, closing my office door behind him. I picked up the phone and immediately dialed Kayla myself. I'd been looking for an excuse to call her for the past month that wouldn't make me seem needy or weak, and this was it.

"Hello," I heard her sweet voice and my heart leapt in my chest, only to fall again as I realized it wasn't her, just her answering machine. "You've reached Kayla Brandt. Please leave a message at the beep."

"It's Ethan Colson. We're having a party to celebrate the launch of the All-American on Friday, and as the cover girl of our magazine, it's important that you be there. Contact me at my office for details. Goodbye."

I sounded curt and businesslike. I had wanted to sound confident and strong, instead I realized that I came off as dismissive and apathetic. Shit. Would she even call me back after a message like that? I sure as hell hoped so. I missed her more than I could say — more than I'd ever missed anyone.

Chapter Thirteen

Kayla

I was exhausted by the time I got home at the end of the day. Twelve hours on my feet, posing in skimpy outfits with five inch heels that pinched my toes. The end results were well worth it, though. The digital proofs I got to see looked fantastic and were just what the director wanted. They'd make an excellent addition to my growing résumé of experience. Plus, I walked out with a hefty bonus in addition to my promised paycheck.

When I got to my crappy car, I was disappointed to see that it was full of the boxes I had picked up from Mick's place before work. For a brief moment in time, I'd forgotten they were there and wiped out the awful memory of our morning encounter.

He'd set the boxes outside of our apartment building by the dumpster, but my name was clearly emblazoned across them with a bold Sharpie pen, so I knew they were mine. Some homeless people were already digging through them and they ran off with a plastic garbage bag full of my clothes before I could stop them.

"It doesn't matter. They need the clothes more than I do," I muttered aloud as I searched for the boxes that really mattered to me, the ones full of my photo albums and memorabilia.

"Want some help carrying that to your car?" a familiar voice said, and I whipped around to face Mick.