It was because I was in love. Against all odds, in the space of a week, I’d fallen for the billionaire. Without meaning to, I’d been captivated by that charismatic personality, the casual charm shielding a complicated soul. I’d tumbled head over heels for Jared White, believing that I could own a man like this, that he’d find me interesting, someone half his age, innocent and naive.
And so it was my own fault. It was my fault totally, and slowly I looked around the room. Sure enough, my clothes were there, the same garments I’d arrived at the Billionaires Club with. They felt plain and drab now, although I’ve been wearing jeans and t-shirts my whole life. After the excitement, the roller-coaster of emotions, feelings, and sensations, suddenly my old life was nothing but a shadow. How would I live? How would I be able to survive, going back to my humdrum existence after experiencing the incredible with the big man? My heart cracked, hot tears slipping down my cheeks. I didn’t want to, but I had to. I had to be Abigail Williams once more, college student, and that was the long and the short of it. There was no choice. My adventure at the Billionaires Club was over, and even though I’d known it would end sometime, I hadn’t anticipated this. I hadn’t foreseen that I’d be left forlorn and lost, heart aching, booted back to my old life with nothing but memories of the man I loved.
CHAPTER NINE
Jared
Aw, shit. Aw shit shit shit. I stared at the glass of amber liquid in my hand and raised a hand for another. Shit, I needed to get a hold of myself. I’m a drinker for sure, but lately, the habit had gotten crazy. From three drinks a night, I’d started doing four, and now I was looking down the hatch at my fifth.
But too late. The server across the way saw me, and nodded sweetly, spinning on a high heel to speak with the bartender. And sure enough, the female came swaying at me then, tumbler balanced precariously on a silver tray.
“Sir,” she breathed. “Here you are.”
And this particular waitress was one for the ages. About five four in heels, she had huge gazongas which nipples literally brushed my arm as she leaned over, one fleshy breast lightly banging my face as she reached to place the alcohol on the side table beside me.
“Oh sorry sir!” the brunette exclaimed with a coy smile. “I’m sorry, it’s these heels that are making me clumsy. Here, let me get you a napkin.”
And despite the fact that she hadn’t spilled on me, a piece of white paper appeared in her hand instantly and she was bent over, stroking my dick with a soft hand. That’s right, the little girl was feeling the curve of my cock through my pants, lightly running her fist up and down, pretending she was cleaning up with that stupid napkin.
My dick twitched once, but it was more out of surprise than anything. Because I didn’t want her. In the time that Abby’s been gone, I haven’t had it in me to take any women, which is fucking out of character. Usually I’m an asshat, I’m always banging chicks, I’ve got my dick sunk in some woman’s orifices morning, noon, and night. Or not just some woman, but women plural. That’s right, I’m up for a little menage, two slippery bodies, hell even a group bang with a shit ton of pussies surrounding me.
But since she’s been gone, Mr. Happy hasn’t been so happy. In fact, it’s like he’s dead on arrival, limp and scrawny, a useless rubber hose hanging between my legs with the consistency of jelly. I tried a hand job in the shower and that was better, but it was only because I closed my eyes and thought of my baby, picturing those huge tits, that sweet pink slit, all of it topped with her smile. Oh yeah, Abby’s smile is something that wrenches my soul, making me stammer and growl, before coming like a fucking geyser.
And the waitress now was having no effect. Sure, she was cute, every woman who works at the Club is cute. She even looked like Abby a little, voluptuous with brown curls and brown eyes. But there the resemblance stopped. As I breathed deeply, I could smell the strange woman’s cunt, her personal identifying scent, and it wasn’t my baby’s cunt. This wasn’t the sweet honey of Abby’s puss, this was a weird vinegar smell, like the waitress had been douching with the stuff.
So I picked up the woman’s hand and put it on her breast abruptly. I didn’t want to touch her, but maybe if she did a little dancing, I’d be into it. Maybe that would help me get with the program, help me revive and become a man once more.