His Father

“Thought you were drowning, you were under there a while.” He leans in the doorway looking sleepy. It’s only seven in the morning. I haven’t been able to sleep since I left her at that shady-looking diner. I’ve passed it during my commute to work in the past but I’ve never been inside. It’s a place where truckers stop on their way out of town or in, I doubt many locals go there. “Did you get her to work safe?”

“Of course,” I reply, swimming to the edge and pulling myself up, but then I remember my throbbing cock and drop back under. “She was impressed with the car.” I think back to how she responded and smile slightly. She reminded me of how I was the first time I saw a flashy car worth more than I thought I’d ever see in my lifetime. Now look at me, living the dream. I didn’t get here on my own though.

“Need a hand?” My son chuckles, thinking I’ve fallen back in accidentally.

“Just doing push-ups,” I lie and do the move a few more times.

“Show-off.”

I grin at him but he rolls his eyes. Looking at him, I still can’t believe my boy is a man and he has a woman, and has seen the world, not all of it but more than most. I’ve always been proud of him for following his dreams, never one to force on him a path that didn’t entice him, but I’m happy he’s back, willing to take on the business with me by his side.

We’ll be a force to be reckoned with.

Just as soon as his little female distraction is gone.

“I’ll be out tonight, give you and the girl some privacy.”

“Where are you going?”

I wink at him. “Never you mind.”

“Gross.” He pretends to vomit, catching my meaning straight away.

I splash water at him as he walks away and then sink back to the bottom of the pool.

My cock still hurts.

The braless little vixen and her perfect fucking body.

“Dad?” Maddox calls, forcing me to resurface again.

“Yes, Maddox?”

“How about we go get breakfast at Bill’s, surprise Pest?”

I can think of nothing worse. “No.”

“Dad.” He raises a brow, making him look so much like me. “Don’t be boring.”

“You just want me to drive you there.” I see straight through his plan but find myself falling for it anyway. “Fine. I could eat. Let me shower.” Before he fully vanishes, I yell, “This place better be clean!”

Tempest

“Thank you, see you soon!” I wave the family out of the door and quickly clean their table, ensuring the sugar pourer, menus, and sauces are fully stocked too.

The place isn’t as busy as yesterday, but it’s not empty either. Mostly single men come in, big guys in their trucks and lorries that they park across the way on the gravel carpark, or businessmen looking for a quick meal before making the commute to work.

There’s one thing I’ll say about this area, the men are H.O.T. HOT. And not in the warm sense of the word. They’re gorgeous. Just because they’re gorgeous. They take care of their bodies, their dark skin shining, their tan skin glowing, their pale skin steadily burning. Their smiles lovely and friendly, their banter charming. They give me the most tips so long as I meet all of the social cues and my accent sends them wild.

“You’ve improved a lot since yesterday,” Bill comments when I bring a new order to the till. This is from creepy trucker with a tatty cap by the window.

I will never wrap my head around pancakes with syrup and bacon. Together. It sounds like a pregnancy craving, not an everyday breakfast meal.

Speaking of breakfast, I was good and ordered porridge for mine with a cup of weird-tasting tea on the side.

“I usually pick things up quickly enough.” I smile in return and turn to look at the door when it jingles.

I beam from ear to eat, unable to contain my excitement when Maddox strolls in with his father who is looking around the place as though it’s covered in shit, not pretty gray stripy wallpaper.

“Just a second, Bill.” I stroll to Maddox and hug him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to make sure you’re working hard,” he replies and I guide them to a booth in my section.

I have a section today, unlike yesterday, though the girl I’m working with called Sabrina goes out for a fag break every two minutes so I’m constantly watching her section too.

Bill either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Or perhaps he’s just not in the mood to battle with her about it this early in the day.

“Menus are on the table, take a look, I can’t recommend anything but the porridge or burger,” I admit, shrugging. “Can I get your drinks?”

“VOS water,” Sargent says, and I scribble that down in my little notepad with my fluffy-topped pen.