Soul Mates. The Beginning.

by Christine Wood

  She took me to her hotel room where I did just that, fucked her senseless and allowed her to ride me hard, yeah sure she did it well, and somehow, I was made to feel like I was just a fella she’d chosen to drag back for a booty call. Oh, I could make a joke about how I felt used and abused. Yes, I have a wicked sense of humour, she told me I was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and asked had we met before? All as she jumped up and down on my dick, whilst screaming for me to twist and play with her boobs and to make it harder, how hard did she want it, it was as ridged as steel already. She screamed for me to fuck her harder and to make her come hard.

  She made stupid amounts of small talk as I fucked her. I was both weirded out, and amused by her, because this was definitely the weirdest most talkative ride I’d ever had then after she gave me a hard fuck and long one too, she wanted the kisses and the caressing, and being a bastard I thought of my own needs before hers, because I didn’t do those things, I do just the business end of this sex thing, and that’s all it is to me meaningless sex. She fell asleep and she tried hugging me. Err no, I pulled away damn fast, no way do I do the post-coital hug fest with anyone either, that’s for solely for lovers and not being in love with her, I ain’t doing it. I fuck them, throw away the condom, shower their smell from me and leave.

  I have no time to feel sad and blue about using them. I can’t get emotionally involved like that with any woman, especially a girl that’s tantamount to being a hooker, though I didn’t have to pay for sex with this woman, I did leave a tip as I hadn’t had to pay for her drinks all night as I usually did. I’m a bastard because of the way I use women, and as much as I hated my dad for doing this and I’d always swore I’d never do the things he did. I do though and more. I know I am no better than he is, but she wanted it, they all do. All the women who come on to me, they do the chasing and the asking. They always have done, I’d been having sex since I was sixteen, so there was a lot of women to compare this night to, and yeah, I loved sex and enjoyed being chased.

  I learned early the ways of the chase, from the hours studying it from my home. Home that’s a laugh too, because I lived in a hotel right there on the strip in Vegas, where girls and women came for the ‘what goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas experience’ and yeah, I’d experienced it all alright, with plenty of casual sex partners and stopovers. I was a red blooded male who was offered it on a plate all the time, and most came on to me because my dad owned the hotel they were stopping in. I was the Prince of the Empire and sowing my young oats whilst I could, because I went to a private boy’s school, so there were no school girlfriends, and I really didn’t miss it, in fact I studied hard and fucked hard when I went back to Vegas.

  Even when I hit college I didn’t find a girl who would become more, like I needed the constant moaning of a girl on my arm, I was offered it, but I had enough of what I needed with the ‘hotel fodder’, a crude word my father used for the constant fresh supply of women passing through the doors. I’d never gone steady with anyone I’ve never had a girlfriend, nor taken anyone to the prom or any dances for that matter. I did get to go to fancy balls, benefits and dances with my father, all prettied up and dragged to the cattle market, because Dad had high hopes that I’d snag a hotel owners daughter, yeah right Dad it works for you, not for me.

  I had some pretty smart clothes in my wardrobes. My tuxedo collection is the best and in all styles and colours, including the one Luis and I got for our trip to the year 2000 Mardi Gras, in New Orleans. From what I remember of it we had a fantastic time and we collected many girls phone numbers, and over the fantastic final week of carnival my headboard was quickly filled with girl’s beads, I won the battle of the beads. My suit for the ball which we were actually there to attend, was pale blue and Luis wore a pink one and whilst drunk we pulled more girls telling them we were gay than we’d had hot dinners, and we’d had, as I said a very busy few days.

  They are all hanging in the wardrobe of my penthouse suite in New York they are all still there, from my very first one worn at the grand age of two years old, to the last one I bought a few weeks ago, though that one didn’t fare too well after a night in the pig pen. I joked with Gran that I’m keeping them for my son, which makes her cry, that one day I do actually want to settle down and have children and she is glad that the way my father has raised me has not ruined the idea of me one day wanting to have a family. I have to admit that the idea scares the crap out of me. What do I do if I do get it all wrong? What would I do if I married a girl who turned out to be a gold digger? Could I even raise a kid, ‘cos he sure as shit didn’t? Shit, I have years left yet before I need to settle down. I’m only twenty-four now, and I can plan that when the quarter century hits me, that particular milestone arrives in a couple of days. Besides I have yet to meet the one, if there is in fact a one out there for me.

  I look at the phone again, and what a surprise even more texts arrive, is she about to become a problem like Gina? She was my biggest stalker sextexter, the fiery red headed Italian, now she was a weeklong fuck fest and boy I didn’t need sex for a couple of weeks after those days, but she’s a story for another day. Where was I? Val and sex text reading, that’s right.

  Val: Gary, you aren’t replying. X

  Val: So when you get back, in town call me X

  Val: Seriously, you are a shit texter. X

  Val: Okay one more sex text, I need to get off and so badly. Fuck, your fingers are the ones probing my sex. They pump me hard, your rough thumb strokes my clit over and over, and your fingers plunge into me over and over, you’ve made me so wet, I need a clean-up on aisle pussy. You’re lapping my love juice and thumbing my ass oh baby that’s naughty, you say you want to fuck me there too, umm baby do it, I need you there, do it.

  As I bend over, and show you my ass. You lube up with the tingly gel, and as you fuck me hard for what seems like an eternity, you tell me you love me as you come hard. I have come so many times, as your fingers play with my clit and the other squeezes my tits, you scream to a shuddering end, and hold me asking for more of the same. Argh but Gary, I didn’t get more you ran away, but I will have you again baby you know I’m a really good fuck. You do want the more I can give you. X

  Val: Sleep well and wank off to that and honey it will be my pleasure to do it again, ‘cos baby, Val is waiting to be fucked hard again and damn I’m all wet again and wow that orgasmic finish has wiped me out, sleep well, I know I will baby. X

  Wow, such an imagination, so I guess I should block her number and delete the damn texts. One night and she’s already too clingy. The bags are loaded in the car as I delete and block Val from my life, it was what it was, a one-night thing. I must note not to leave phone on the nightstand for unauthorised taking of my number and why the hell did I say I was called Gary? I normally tell them I’m Jude, as in Jude Law, because I look like him, apparently? I leave the plane, and Jameson, my dad’s right hand man and the man who was more of a father to me than Hoyt ever was, is calling my name.

  “Mr Holland, your father is expecting you.”

  “Right stop that, it’s Chris, you have known me all my life Jameson please call me Chris, why are you being so formal again? Is it my father again? How is the old bastard Jameson?”

  “He’s much the same, and is alone and he has been for the last six months, since your last visit. I have been told by your father I will lose my job, if I forget my place, he has never liked me calling you Chris or Christopher for that matter, and as Glenda is in need of the fantastic medical care she is getting as part of my salary, I can’t afford to piss him off and lose her the care she needs, her cancer is back Chris, and she’d like to see you before you fly off again, you will call in, won’t you?” She was as good as a mother to me, when we lived at the mansion, but when we left there she wasn’t allowed to come with us to the hotel, and they had to rent a small condo when we moved. Poor Glenda lost her home, me and her garden, and as soon as I came into my money it was the first thing I bought them, a nicer
house and one with a garden and pool, Jameson gets good money from dad, but I know a million-dollar house in a nice area, he simply couldn’t afford. They happily agreed to live there, as my guests after refusing the deeds, besides arguing with Glenda is pointless she wins every time.

  “Hell yeah, try to keep me away. Why did you not tell me before? I could have flown back sooner, and as to paying for treatment, did you forget I have money too, and anything that woman needs she gets. Do you hear me anything, she is like the mother I never had, and I hope you and she know how much I love her right?”

  “She does, and the sunflowers and giant daisy’s you send her every Friday lets her know you do, as do the phone calls and your daily email updates of what you have eaten and where you have been, they too are keeping us informed that you are safe and well. I didn’t tell you she was ill again because she knew you would worry, but Christopher Robin Hoyt Holland, you need to come and see her more, whilst you can.” Oh shit, my full name means this shit is serious. As in she’s really ill and there’s nothing more they can do serious, we knew this would happen but not so soon as this, fuck I thought I had years left with her? I’m about to say something when he nods his head, like he read my thoughts, we quickly change the subject before he and I cry.

  “Has Dad given up the Boudoir Bunnies, and is someone monitoring his messages and mail, because he sends me the weirdest requests and just lately damn near on impossible tasks to do.” He smiles.

  “We do, and yes his problem is getting worse, he is losing his grip on reality, and sees no one, his food is left by the door and he sits in his suite watching old movies and films of your mum. He has taken this anniversary hard, twenty-five years and still he weeps like a baby, but the bunnies stopped calling and living in the hotel when the heart attach scared him witless.” Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, not, because I don’t do birthdays because for some strange reason celebrating the day your mum died is a bit of a buzz kill.

  “He is gonna be fun then, no sex and a bad heart? Well anything else I should know about, before the great Hoyt Holland permits an audience?”

  “No, but he is in no state to be seeing you really, he even after all this time blames you for her death so just watch yourself. Oh, and Roger’s back with your sister Catherine, both are in and out all the time they are up to something, but his room is very secure and secretive these days, so much so he debugs every day, he doesn’t even trust me and he has a throw away phone for calls to those two, so I have no idea what their game is? Your present is here, Happy Birthday Son, I know before you say it, it’s just another day, but it’s your day and Glenda wanted you to have this it means a lot to her.” I open the package and there’s a fob watch, an old gold fob watch and chain. I fight the urge to cry.

  “It was her Pa’s and having no kids she wanted the nearest she had to one have it, sentimental old fool that she is, don’t forget to go see her.”

  “Thanks Jameson I will, she really is ill?” He nods back, no tears, no tears, shit a tear.

  “Yes, now back to your father and his mourning your mother be careful I have never seen him so badly affected by it.”

  “He will never forgive me for killing her, I have gotten used to that, but what do his doctors say about him, is he losing his mind and his heart how is that problem?”

  “He saw one three days ago his private physician came at his request, again. That man should just damn well move in, it would save time. He thought he was having another heart attack, but he wasn’t it was just bad heartburn, and now has himself hooked up to machines all the time, they bleep away and he’s happy they are keeping him alive, the hypochondriac old fool sleeps well to their dulcet bleeps and pings. He really is a sorrowful man, a man whose mind is drifting and his grip on reality is fading fast. The doctor reviews each day’s monitoring from his office and calls through with the results, the poor man must have hour upon hour of data to check. He also hates the scar from the open heart surgery Christopher, as it’s a constant reminder he is not going to be here forever, the good thing about the scar meant he didn’t have the bunnies back, the vain man he thought it made them see him as less of a man, like they would be interested in him, it’s only the business end and money they look at.” He says and I agree, they see my father as a cash slot machine, he pumps in and money pumps out, crass but true. That was until the heart attach on the dance floor in his club scared him witless.

  My father had a collapse at a disco whilst tonsil dancing with the latest bunny, the twenty-year old pole dancer, Tifferniee and yes, that’s the correct spelling, anyway Tifferniee called me in a blind panic telling me it wasn’t her fault that he was in hospital, he’d asked for a blow job on the dance floor after popping an ecstasy tablet and a Viagra, or so I was told when I asked what the fuck did my old man do and was it life threatening? She lasted two more days before she was paid off and sent packing, poor girl was traumatised, a couple of hundred saw to her trauma, and that’s thousand, he wasn’t cheap, just heartless! Ha well not quite, apparently, he’s got one it’s just tired of keeping up with Dad and his dick.

  The lifestyle he leads was and probably still is killing the sixty-three-year-old bastard what with the whiskey, fine wine, rich foods, his over use of the blue pills and fucking girls a third of his age for so long, it was just something we were waiting for, it was just a matter of when the grim reaper paid him a visit, and that time was six months ago. I rushed back as he had to have open heart surgery, and according to Tifferniee he needed me because he was dying. I will admit it frightened him into some weird changes and he tried to get me to move back home, but as far as I was concerned it was too late to play the good father. So what, he was dying? I wasn’t his concern whilst I was growing up, so as heartless as it sounded I didn’t give a rats arse he was dying, he left it too long to be my father and he didn’t want me really, he just needed me to do his bidding for him as he was lain up in bed.

  “Failed miserably in diagnosing that problem didn’t they, but it’s not their fault he was always a heartless bastard and don’t look at me like that Jameson, you know it’s true, because Hoyt Holland does not have a heart, so I guess he needs another doctor?” I snigger and read the texts on my other phone and there are several messages from Mel, wishing me a happy birthday and telling me it’s time for me to settle down, I’m old and gonna be past it soon. She wants nieces and nephews. Like I would know where to start? The girls I seem to be drawn towards are sadly, more hooker than wife material, the women I do see in the right circles are hungry for money and power, and I have yet to meet one that does anything for me. Besides, I’m only twenty-five, but I will admit I am twenty-five and damned lonely. I haven’t met the right girl, and even if she exists I doubt I will have time for the family life I want.

  My sister Mel or rather my half-sister, is the only one of my remaining seven half-siblings I have anything to do with, she was the first Boudoir Bunny Baby. Her mother was called Candice, she was really nice and I liked her, she was the first to try and fill mum’s shoes and lasted a whole year, but as soon as she got pregnant with Melissa, she was out of the door, as were all the others. The old bastard should have had his nuts removed if he didn’t want women to trick him into marriage.

  I will never get caught like that precautions are always taken, because women say, ‘sure honey I’m covered’ all the time, but I don’t take the risk. My dad must have been loopy to think being as rich as Midas didn’t attract the gold diggers, and I have learnt from the eight Dad did impregnated, it costs you a whole lot of money to raise a child. All be it he pays, he hardly sees them, hell, he hardly sees me and I’m his legitimate kid and heir apparent. Dad speak, for run around errand boy, and yet despite my moaning like a bitch here I am and still I come running when he calls.

  “We are here Sir, I will have your bags will be taken to your rooms, and your appointment is in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks Jameson, I will see you later I need to buy another suit for the ball.
My last one was ruined, I apparently slept in the pig pen and they like the taste of the silk.”

  “Do you want me to send out for the usual Sir?”

  “No thank you, I will pick one up for myself. I fancy shopping, plus I need to run some errands too, but for now wish me luck.” He gave me the smile, well something that in Jameson’s eyes passes as a smile, it’s more of the Elvis lip thing he has going on. Jameson has been with Dad for thirty years and is devoted to the ornery old bastard and he has been there for me since day one.

  I was told by my nanny he was the first person to cuddle the infant son of Hoyt Holland, when all my dad did was look at me in disgust and said I’d killed her, that’s all I heard growing up, that her giving me life killed her. It was all due to my hard delivery, but she wanted to be a mother and she knew having me was a risk, but took that risk and it was one she never recovered from. Her mother, my gran, she looked after me for a while and with the help of Jameson, a nanny and Glenda I was raised by others not him. As I got older I was paraded out and shown to the world in my smart suits, each and every time it was like a choreographed dance, where he would schmooze the clients and pretend to be the doting father, then back at home, I was left in my wing of the house, and left in the care of those others.

  That had been my life until I got my mother’s trust fund, and I gained financial independence from him, and I thank God for that small mercy and unlike the others, Mel and I come from mega rich families, so I’m unlike the other kids he fathered, we are the only two are not dependant on Hoyt Holland. Though like a good son I do come a running when asks and this is the same with this trip, though I’d already planned to be here for Bella, I told Daddy Dearest that I’d had to put many meetings on hold, putting my plans aside flying here to do his bidding and that he was costing me millions. Hell, I would much rather be in Texas on my ranch with my horses and cattle. I would rather be back in the damned pig pens, rather than be knocking on his door, but knock on it I did.