Train Me Daddy

“I accept.”

With that simple declaration, he left me flushed and strangely aroused, only pausing at the door to offer one last comment.

“You start work on Monday. I’ll see you at noon.”

Jami

I couldn’t get her out of my head. Even as my daily routine went on, I couldn’t get Lena out of my head. She was a beautiful woman with a shapely body and a spark inside of her that ignited me as well. I wanted her badly, but I couldn’t seem desperate. That wasn’t how I did things. Normally, I wasn’t the type to go after women. I didn’t go after them because they flocked to me, but this time I was going to make an exception. Lena was a well-traveled woman with some world experience under her belt. She wouldn’t be as easily swayed as the women I’d courted before her.

Playboy was the word that was often used to describe me, but I didn’t really agree with that term. It sounded slimy and unappealing. I preferred to think of myself as a connoisseur of women. I loved women. I loved having them around, I just didn’t like keeping them around. I was always upfront with the women who came to my bed, but when morning comes around they always seem to forget the conversation and the request that they be gone by breakfast time.

Some are more persistent than others and some are so offended at the fact that I don’t want to give them a ride home, that they stomp off and never come back. I prefer the second type of woman, to be honest. I’m sure they told all their friends about me, but it didn’t stop the flow of women I saw in my life. My money and my charm were too much for them to resist. Hopefully, Lena wouldn’t be any different.

I placed a tooth pick between my lips as I walked through the doors of my towering office building. The marble floor clicked under the worn leather boots I wore every day. Most of my clothes got replaced when it came time to wash them, but it was hard to find a good pair of shoes. I hung onto my shoes until they were literally falling apart at the seams.

I greeted my employees in the hall way, waving and nodding my head politely. Sandy blonde hair fell into my eyes as I approached my secretary. Rachel was one of the only women who’d worked for me that I hadn’t fooled around with. Don’t get me wrong, I’d tried like hell to get her on a date, but she was the first and only woman to ever rebuke my advance completely. It was part of the reason I kept her around as my personal secretary and assistant. There wouldn’t be anything weird in the way of our working relationship.

“Rachel!”

“Mr. Whittle,” she said, tipping her head in my direction, her eyes not leaving the computer screen.

I put my hands flat on her desk and leaned over, grinning brightly. “How many times do I got to ask you to call me Jami.”

She cocked a perfectly sculpted brow and I could see her trying to resist rolling her eyes at me. “You know I prefer to keep our relationship professional.”

I grunted a little and stood back up. “To a fault.”

She shrugged her slender shoulders and went back to typing. God, I loved the way she ignored me. There was something thrilling about it. Powerful

women were such a rare find. It was the reason I was so interested in Lena.

“What do I have going on today?”

“You have a meeting at 1:30 with the housing committee, but that’s about it.”

“Gotcha.” I started to walk away, heading for my office.

“Oh, and you ought to know that there’s a woman named Marie waiting for you in your office. She said she knew you, so I thought I should let her in.”

Rachel didn’t agree with my playboy ways and had a habit of retaliating by letting the women I slept with into my office. I think she got a kick out of seeing me try and confront them. She was lucky she was such a damn good secretary.

I groaned but made my way towards the elevator, taking it up to the thirteenth floor. Many people thought it was strange I put my office on such an infamous floor, but I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t believe that some number had a supernatural power over the universe. I’d made my own luck and I believed in that whole heartedly. It only seemed appropriate to flaunt my beliefs by putting my office in the thirteenth floor.

The long stretch of hallway was filled with the sound of muffled voices making deals and making money. It was music to my ears. When I finally reached my office, I could see the outline of a tall, busty woman through the frosted glass. The name Marie sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face to it. It was a fairly normal thing for me to not quite remember what my conquests looked like.

I stepped into the office and the woman’s face swung around. Her too-thin brows were pulled together and her bright red lips were twisted into a frown. She stood up, black dress clinging to every curve and line of her body, not leaving much to the imagination.

“Why didn’t you call?” she demanded.

God. Her voice was a little too high and her Brooklyn accent thick. It was like nails on a goddamn chalkboard. I winced and held my hands up, sighing softly. “I don’t call back, babe. We talked about that.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe’! You’re a sack of shit! My friends warned me about you! They told me about how you use women!”

I rolled my eyes and brushed past her, settling in my high back, leather chair. “Don’t start with this bullshit, Marie. You knew what this was. You knew what it was every time you came home with me. You use me just as much. Don’t pretend you don’t like the drinks and dresses I buy you.”

Marie was a returning customer. Now that I saw her face, I knew that I’d been with her at least twice. Both times we’d gone to restaurants outside of her price range and I’d treated her to clothes shopping, explaining to her that these little trysts weren’t signs of affection. They were obligations that I had accepted a long time ago. I wasn’t a total asshole, I wanted to give these women something in return for their time.

“I’m not a fucking hooker!”