Show Stopper(4)

By: Amy Brent



Besides, I couldn’t do much because of Lacey, anyway. One-night stands were about all I could do, now that my little girl was growing up. The last thing I wanted was for her to see a revolving door of women coming in and out of my life. Her mother was a raging bitch who’d tried to give her up for adoption, despite my protests, but I saved Lacey from the adoption process and raised her on my own. The moment her mother caught wind of the fact that I’d legally stopped the adoption, she took off, and I hadn’t seen her since.


Good fucking riddance, if you ask me. Lacey was growing into a beautiful young girl. She was five now, with wispy blonde hair like her mother, but she had my stoic blue eyes. Thankfully, her mother’s hair was all she inherited because every time we went out in public, people always commented on how much alike we looked. I was scared that it would fade as she got older, that one day, I’d wake up and see the spitting image of the bitch who deserted the best thing that could’ve ever happened to her. I worried I’d hold that resentment against my own daughter.


But the more she grew, the more she turned into me, and it was both a relief and a worry. My little girl was growing up, which meant my adult activities had to be kept to a minimum. I could never stay over at anyone’s house, I never brought the activities back home, and I was never afforded the chance to wake up next to the soft body of a woman.


That was the price of being a single dad, though, and it wasn’t a price I was willing to compromise just because I couldn’t get my rocks off whenever I wanted.


Women were bullshit, anyway. Lacey’s mom had been a real piece of work while she was pregnant. I was lucky enough to talk her out of having an abortion, but no matter how much I protested, I couldn’t talk her out of the adoption. I told her I’d take care of her and she could go on her merry way, and she would accuse me of being a shit person who couldn’t take care of himself, much less another human, and she’d storm off in a fit before I could get the last word in. She made my life a living nightmare for nine months, and then tried to essentially sell my daughter out from underneath me.


That right there was enough for me to swear off women altogether, no matter the circumstance. Did my bed get lonely? Sure. Did I have the type of sex I wanted all the time? Not even close. Was it worth dealing with the shit women kicked up on a daily basis because they thought they were superior to me? Hell fucking no. I was done with women and their emotions. If they wanted to fuck, I’d give them a few hours of my evening, and then I’d be off. I had no patience to deal with their emotional tirades or their confusing states of mind. I had a little girl I was trying to raise to be a stable, healthy individual, and I didn’t need someone with a first-class ticket to Crazy Town upheaving the balance I’d set in her life.


My mind was ripped from my train of thought when the doorknob began to turn. I covered up my gun with my suit jacket and buttoned it up, wanting to look professional and not like I’d just been run into a wall with my memories and fantasies. I expected another worker to open the door, a chef or a maid. Possibly a parent of some sort. But when I saw Bridget Meyers standing on the other side of the door in fucking booty shorts and a tank top with no bra, my mouth started to salivate.


She was more beautiful in person than she’d ever been on that silver screen, and I could feel my cock twitching, trying to get closer to her body.


“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just doing some yoga.” Light beads of sweat were dripping down her temple and flowing down her neck. They disappeared into the slight cleavage she still had, even without her tits harnessed, and it was all I could do not to reach out and bring her in for a kiss. Her skin glowed in the morning sunlight that was beaming down onto my back. Her legs were long and smooth, perfect for wrapping around my thick-muscled waist and hanging on while I showed her exactly what my body could do for hers.


Fuck, this woman was smoking hot. This job was gonna be tough.


“Thank you so much for starting so soon,” she said. “Would you like to come in?”


“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. I stepped through the threshold of her mansion and couldn’t help but gawk. I’d watched over some high-profile people in my day, but her home really had a sense of flair to it. The massive double staircase alternated white and black steps, and the cherry mahogany hardwood floors looked like they’d just been waxed. There wasn’t an abundance of furniture, just the stuff she needed with a few pieces scattered for accents, which made the mansion feel incredibly spacious.

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