Jagger: The Hottest Guys You'll Love to Love (Best of the Bad Boys Book 3)

by Jessie Cooke

  Bottom line is that I do this shit to myself and I have no idea why. My mother is fond of telling me how I have so much going for me but that I look for ways to sabotage my own happiness. She says I “can’t stand to be happy, so I mess it up.”

  I took another drag off the blunt and then I stubbed it out. I changed my shirt, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and grabbed my guitar. I thought about shaving, but the scruff gave me character…I thought, anyways. I’d leave it for now. At least I’d have some cash in my pocket after tonight. I’d be willing to bet there will be at least one soft, warm body willing to come home with me too. The alley sex was hot…but tonight I’d like long and passionate. I know that it’s contradictory and it probably confuses a lot of women, but I hate sleeping alone and I love waking up with my morning wood poking into soft flesh. Not waking up alone tomorrow morning will be my bonus.

  5

  Jagger

  “Hey! I think your phone is ringing.”

  I woke up to the terrible sound of my ringing phone and the deep, gravelly voice of the chick I’d brought home from the bar last night. Jesus, I hope it’s a chick! She sounds like a man! Fuck! I sat up and looked at her. The face looks female, but that doesn’t always mean anything. I pulled up the sheet and looked at her body…no dick, nice tits, it’s all good. Whew! I remember a hell of a good blow job in the bathroom at the bar, but that was about it. Damn, I’ve got to stop drinking so much…and smoking so much… The morning I wake up with one that does have a dick…it’s over.

  “Are you going to get that?” What the hell is wrong with her voice?

  “Yeah, hand it to me will you?” It was on her side of the bed. I wanted her to shift positions a little bit so I could make sure she wasn’t a hermaphrodite…Hiding a dick tucked up in back or something.

  “Here.” Nice ass…no sign of a dick there either. She handed the phone to me. She has hair on her knuckles. Shit! My balls just shriveled up and climbed up into my belly. I took the phone and tried not to look too freaked out.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mick, it’s Mom. Did I wake you?”

  “Noooo!” Shit! The hermaphrodite has my cock in her hand.

  “What’s going on? Are you high?”

  “Mom! No, I’m not high it’s like…morning…right?” She…he…it has her lips on it now. Damn, that feels good. Does it make me gay if I like it?

  “Mick! It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. You’re going to be the death of me, son.”

  “Sorry mom…” Fuck she’s good. I was trying to keep my voice steady. I can’t have mom knowing I’m getting a blow job while I’m talking to her…that would just be weird. “I had a gig last night. It was after three before I got home. It took me a while to fall asleep.” Oh my God! She’s looking up at me with a sexy pair of green eyes and her mouth full of my cock. That’s so hot. This has to be a chick…doesn’t it?

  “You seem awfully distracted. What are you doing?” I looked back down at the hot chick with the man’s voice and the hairy knuckles. Turning gay?

  “I was just waking up, Mom. What’s up?”

  “I want you here for dinner tonight. Aunt Mary and Victor will be here.”

  “Oh…um, I think I have a gig, Mom.” Nice long tongue all the way up the shaft. Yeah baby, swirl the head like that. At this point if you pulled out your dick I might not stop you…

  “Cancel it. I need you here.”

  Shit! “Why Mom? What do you need me for?”

  “Because. You know your Aunt Mary. She’ll sit here with her little preppy college boy and she’ll go on all night about all of his accomplishments and she’ll want to know what you’ve been up to.”

  I looked back down between my legs and said, “You don’t really want her to know what I’ve been up to, do you?”

  “Of course not,” That’s good because I’ve just decided if this chick is a dude, I’m never going back. “But, you’re a lot better looking than Victor. At least there’s that.”

  If my emotions hadn’t all been tied up in my cock at that very moment, I would have laughed. As it was, I needed to cum. “What time?” I managed to squeak out.

  “Six, and be sober.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “I love you, Mick.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I put the phone down and grabbed the chick/dude by the hair. “Yeah baby, right there…Oh fuck!”

  “Mick Allen Jagger!” Oh shit! I didn’t hang up.

  “Mom?”

  “You’re killing me, I hope you know that. My chest actually hurts. I’m not even being dramatic. I’m calling Father Murphy right now to give me last rites.”

  “Sorry Ma. I’ll see you at six.”

  “I’m going to put my head in the oven!”

  She wonders why I drink. “Bye Ma.” That time I made sure that I hung up. The chick between my legs didn’t seem bothered by any of that. Shit, maybe she’s my soulmate. “Here it comes, baby. Oh yeah! Damn!” Hands down, best blow job of my life…and I’ve had an astronomical number of BJ’s. But now that it’s over, I’m thinking about that voice and those knuckles again. “Thanks baby, that was nice. I hate to do this…but I kind of have an appointment…”

  “Are you kidding me?” She said, in Orson Welles’ voice.

  “I’m really sorry, baby. Maybe we can get together again soon. I’ll call you.” Next time I’m high enough not to care if the lips on my cock have a specific gender or not.

  She jumped up out of the bed and started slamming things around while she looked for her clothes, cussing in that scary voice. I just watched her. She had a fine-looking body for a Hermi…Once she finished getting dressed she turned to me and said, “What’s my name?”

  “Aw come on, baby…I was drinking, a lot.”

  “You’re an asshole, Mick Jagger! My name is Stevie. I put it in your phone last night. Delete it! Don’t call me…ever!”

  She grabbed her purse and stormed out of the room. I could hear her stomping down the hall and then the front door slamming…Stevie? Shit! She even has a boy’s name. I’m officially gay.

  By two o’clock I was dressed and ready for dinner with Mom and Aunt Mary. I did my best to look good, since Mom seems to think all I have going for me are my looks. She’s right, but it hurts a little nonetheless. I covered my tats with a long-sleeved shirt and wore my newest pair of jeans. I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail at the back of my neck so from the front you could hardly tell that I didn’t have a regular “boy-cut” as Mom called it…like everyone else. Most importantly of all, I was stone cold sober. I hadn’t taken one hit of anything all day. I suppose the fact that I’d only been up for an hour should negate some of the pride I felt in myself over that…but it really didn’t. Usually I started my day with some smooth Acapulco gold. I skipped that today…for Mom.

  I started thinking about Skye again and I couldn’t get those troubled violet eyes off my mind. I had to make sure she was okay. I have no idea what my obsession with this little girl is. Usually if I’m not thinking about screwing a chick, she’s not on my mind. I know that’s some bad shit and the hermaphrodite is correct, I am an asshole. I was raised in a good home by a mother who bent over backwards to give me a good life. My father was there as long as he could be too. He was a firefighter and he died in a fire when I was six years old. I don’t remember a lot about him, but what I do remember is all good. I guess I would be a challenge for any psychologist who dared to take me on. As far as women go, I’m not one of those guys who have no respect for them. I love women and I have the utmost respect for them…I just don’t want to be tied down to one. Maybe it’s because I love them so much that I can’t stand the thought of only being with one forever…or maybe it’s because I’m pretty sure that not many of them would put up with my shit for long. I am an asshole.

  I went by the mall on my way to the motel to check on Skye. I kept thinking about her clothes. I thought about just offering to wash them for her but I doubted that
they’d hold up through a wash. I wondered around in Abercrombie for a while, again asking myself what the hell I was doing. I made a little bit of money last night, so I knew I could at least pay the credit card bill…but really…what the fuck am I doing?

  “Do you need help finding something?”

  The young salesgirl was looking at me like I didn’t belong. She was probably right. There was absolutely nothing in the store that would fit me. Even if it would, I had a hell of a time picturing myself in a pair of skinny jeans and one of those Abercrombie t-shirts.

  “Um…I need to buy some clothes for my…little sister. She was in an accident and she’s getting out of the hospital today.” I don’t know why the big story was necessary. I just felt so weird about the truth. I’m not a pedophile and even if I was, Skye swears she’s not a kid. It all still feels weird.

  “What size is she?”

  I smiled my best, “not a creepy stalker or pedophile” smile and said, “That’s part of the problem. I really don’t know. She’s tiny. She lost a lot of weight while she was in the hospital.” That’s it, Jagger…just keep on compounding the lie. A couple of teenage girls walked by just then, at least I think they were teenagers…I thought the same about Skye and I was wrong. One of them was small and very thin. The only difference was that this one had some big knockers. Skye wasn’t so well-endowed in that area. Lowering my voice so the teeny-boppers didn’t think I was perving on them and get the same idea that Skye had I said, “She’s built about like the girl in the red t-shirt there, only smaller on top.”

  The sales girl smiled. “Okay, good. What were you thinking of getting for her?”

  “Jeans…I guess and maybe a couple of shirts…and probably underwear too.” I’ve never bought girl’s underwear in my life. This is so fucking weird.

  “Okay, cool. Come with me.” I followed the girl around for the next fifteen minutes. I ended up with a pair of jeans and two t-shirts, a package of socks, three pairs of underwear and two bras that I had no idea if they would fit or not. She also talked me into a summery dress and two pairs of shoes…sandals and tennis shoes. I walked out of there once again with an almost maxed out credit card in my wallet wondering when exactly I had lost my mind.

  When I got to the motel and parked the bike, I noticed a few questionable characters just hanging around in the parking lot. They either avoided looking at me at all, or got the hell out of my way. I didn’t like thinking about Skye being surrounded by them though. When I got up to her room, I knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. There was a “Do Not Disturb” sign hung on the door for the maid so I thought maybe she was like me and she liked to sleep in. I knocked again harder and waited some more…still nothing. Shit!

  I walked back down towards the parking lot. The dealer and his runner were still milling around. There was an old man near the curb too…just sitting there, watching the traffic go by. I thought about asking them if they’d seen her but decided to go another route instead. I went into the lobby.

  “Hi, I’m in room 222. I lost my key and my girlfriend is out. Can you let me in?”

  The old man at the desk looked at me suspiciously. “I need to see your I.D.”

  I took out my wallet and gave it to him. I also pulled out the card I’d charged the room to. He typed into the computer and after a few minutes he seemed satisfied. He picked up a key card and swiped it and handed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Five dollars will be charged to your card.”

  Fucking fantastic. “Thanks,” I said again. I made my way back past the dredges of society and up to the room. I knocked a couple of times again…making sure that I didn’t surprise her coming out of the shower or something. I still got no response so I slid the card and pushed the door open. I flipped on the light and closed the door behind me. The bed was neatly made and the robe she was wearing last night was folded over it. The trash where she’d put the containers she’d eaten out of was tied up and the bathroom was neat and tidy with all of the towels hung on the racks. The coffee pot had been washed out and was draining upside down on the counter. It looked like the maid had already been here…and all the things I’d bought for Skye were gone. Shit!

  I went back down to the parking lot. The old man was still at the curb. “Excuse me.” He glanced lazily up at me. When his old, faded eyes focused on me he scrambled to his feet and took several steps back. I have to say I was grateful for that. His stench was overwhelming. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just wondering if you saw a girl leave here this morning. She’s about five-foot-tall, skinny little thing, dark hair…”

  “Skye?”

  “Yeah! Skye! You know her?”

  “She’s my friend.” That was when I noticed him holding the Payday bar. Skye gave him her candy bar.

  “She’s my friend too. Do you know where she went?”

  “No,” he suddenly looked like maybe he’d said too much.

  I reached in my wallet and took out a twenty. Daddy Warbucks I was, all of a sudden. “I just want to talk to her. I promise, I won’t hurt her. I just want to make sure that she’s okay.”

  He looked longingly at the bill in my hand and then back at my face. “I’ll take you,” he said. He didn’t take the money. He just turned and started walking East down the street, so I followed him, thankful I wasn’t downwind.

  6

  Skye

  “Hold the cup steady, Lila.” I was trying to pour my carefully disassembled granola bars out of the plastic bag and into a cup but Lila obviously hadn’t had a drink in a while. Her hand was shaking so hard that my precious granola and chocolate chips were falling out all over the ground. The birds would swoop in any minute and it would become their breakfast instead of Lila’s.

  “Sorry Skye, I’m a little shaky today. Bart! Come over here and help us.”

  Bart is Lila’s thirteen-year-old son. I don’t know much about it, but if I had to guess I would say he was born with fetal alcohol syndrome. His eyes sit close on either side of his nose and most of the time they just look vacant. He barely speaks and when he does, it’s with a stutter so bad that you can hardly understand him. Kids shouldn’t have to live like this…but, the worst part was that despite her lack of parenting skills, Lila loves him. She would lay down her life for him. She would give him the last scrap of food. The only thing she won’t do for him…is stop drinking. Addiction is proven yet again to be stronger than the maternal instinct. That’s how it was with my aunt. She was addicted to my uncle. In spite of how much she wanted to mother me after my parents died…the one thing she wouldn’t give up in order to do that was her creepy perverted man.

  “Hi Bart,” I said as the shy, dirty boy approached. He rarely made eye-contact with anyone. Staring down at his filthy shoes he said,

  “H-H-H-I…”

  “Just hold that cup steady for me.” Bart did as I asked and I filled it up. I took the cups from the continental breakfast table at the motel this morning. I also took a few boxes of cereal and cartons of milk. I should feel bad, but I don’t. I’m a firm believer of the end justifies the means. “Do you want some toothpaste and soap?” I asked them.

  “Nah, we got all that,” Lila said. I doubted it, but who was I to judge someone else’s hygiene? I handed Bart a Twinkie. He looked at me with pure adoration, right in the eyes. Amazing what a little cream filling can do for the human spirit. I smiled at him and moved on to the other side of the park where I knew I’d find Happy. Happy liked to sit by the duck pond when it was warm during the day. There were a lot of nice shade trees there and that’s also where he took most of his naps.

  “Hi Happy.”

  “Skye! How goes it? You sure look pretty today.” Happy is probably close to fifty. He’s balding and paunchy and when he wears his gold-rimmed glasses he still looks like an accountant…albeit a dirty one. He became too fond of the casinos and went on a year-long gambling binge. During that time, he also discovered speed. It helped him stay up and
gamble for days, and it was cheap. Now Happy didn’t have a lot of brain left not to mention teeth. He’d also lost his wife and kids, house and car…but somehow, he still managed to smile all the time…maybe because he just didn’t know any better. We called him Happy. I have no idea what his real name is.

  “Thank you, Happy. It’s going pretty well. I brought you some cereal and milk.”

  Still smiling, his eyes looked like he was going to cry. “Thank you, Skye! You’re an angel.”

  I laughed. “One of the dark angels, I’m afraid. You want any toothpaste or soap?” For a second I forgot who I was talking to. He laughed and I was reminded that he didn’t have any teeth.

  “I guess I could rub it on my gums.”

  “You could at that,” I told him, squeezing some out into one of the cups and handing it to him. I used the plastic knife I’d taken from the buffet table and scraped him off some soap. Happy might use it. “You have a good day, Happy. Be safe.”

  “I will now Skye. Did you remember that Lucky Charms are my favorite?”

  “I think you mentioned it once.” I remembered. I’d been excited when I saw them at the buffet this morning.