My father hated that my mother had left her money to me. Maybe she’d known or at least suspected what he was like and had kept money from him that he mustn’t have known about?
Given she could have had a much better life without him I often wondered why she’d stayed. I don’t think it was for love. I wasn’t convinced she’d loved him. Maybe he’d had some kind of hold over her? Nothing would surprise me after what he’d done to me.
I still believed if she hadn’t been so stressed and constantly trying to avoid his wrath, that she might have noticed the lump. My father had a violent temper. No one knew that better than me. My mother was too sweet and kind for a man like him and I would always wonder how long she ignored what was happening with her body. By the time she couldn’t ignore it any longer the lump had progressed insidiously to the point where the cancer had spread its deadly tendrils throughout her body, guaranteeing it was too late to save her life.
I left my father after being reminded again how completely useless I was because I had no interest in real estate or anything that might involve me sitting all damn day in an office. I had made money in various different ways when I was younger but these days, despite my inheritance, I earned my money from modelling.
The only concession I made to my father although it wasn’t really for his benefit, it was for mine, was to not agree to photo shoots where I was naked. I was prepared to reveal a lot of my body but not all of it. I was a model, not an aspiring porn star although I’d had it suggested by some women that I’d be good for porn.
I also didn’t do modelling for fashion where my face would be showing. I preferred not to have my features splashed about for some clothing line.
I’d done a few photo shoots where I’d modelled different clothing from suits to jeans and tee shirts. I’d done shirtless shots and plenty of shots flexing my muscles because these days a lot of models did well having photos sold off to be used on covers of romance books. Apparently, I had ‘the body’ and authors who bought my photos had emailed their covers to me so I knew I’d been used several times, again, only neck down shots or where my face was turned away or in shadow. I liked the income I could make from modelling but I didn’t want any kind of recognition.
Still, that wasn’t the full extent of my modelling. Most of it was underwear. I’d strip down and parade around in boxers and briefs, or whatever I was asked to put on and pose in. Being well endowed helped earn me good money. They didn’t have to ‘pad out’ the underwear to make it look like I filled it out. I did that naturally.
Sighing heavily I stomped on the accelerator pedal of my Porsche, feeling the car leap forward in response and as the speedometer climbed, I counted off the kilometres that took me further from my father and closer to being back in the city. The closer I got to home the more I felt the tension in my body start to ease. By the time I made it home, I was ready to go out and find a woman I could lose myself in for a few hours. There was nothing quite like sex for destressing me.
My real home was a modern sprawling house in Primrose Sands, a suburb right by the water a bit under an hour’s drive from Hobart, Tasmania. I liked its location. I was far enough from the city to have privacy and yet close enough for work. It was also such a huge contrast to the life I’d had when I’d been living in Sydney.
I’d moved to the mainland at almost 18 years of age after being discovered and to get away from my father. After being based in New South Wales for a while, I’d eventually travelled around the various states but when I got the call about my mother’s health, I’d come back to Tasmania.
I never regretted moving back to the quieter lifestyle when the doctor told my mother she had only a few months to live because the cancer had spread too much for her to be saved. She’d refused chemo, deciding to let the disease consume her. I’d wanted her to fight but with such sad eyes she’d told me she had no desire to spend the last months of her life being sick and tired, losing her hair and fighting nausea just to try and push back the inevitable. I’d accepted her excuse but inside I blamed my father for her decision not to fight. Death was her escape from him.
She’d lasted five months and I’d done everything I could to give her five of the best months of her life until she became too sick to travel or do anything; too sick even to get out of bed. Watching her struggle to breathe through the last days of her life had been agonising for me and by the time she sucked in one final, tortured breath and released it in one long sigh before falling silent, I was almost relieved that she was finally free. Free from the cancer and free from my asshole father.
After her death, my father’s shitty attitude towards me became worse and when I realised my mother had left me a substantial amount of money I broke the lease on the apartment I’d been renting and bought both my fuck pad apartment and the house at Primrose Sands. I didn’t have to deal with my father except for the times he summoned me. I don’t know why he needed to see me. I think it was his way of proving he was still the one in control.
I’d turned to alcohol for a while to numb my pain and also dull the anger that raged in me towards my father and, I fucked. I fucked woman after woman; night after night, desperate for the release and the escape from my memories. While I was inside my pussy of choice, I didn’t think about my mother.
The more I fucked the better I became at it and the better I became, the more of a challenge it was to me to excel at it. Through a life that I’d had no control over, I’d finally found something I could control. I liked to see how many times I could make the woman come before I’d weaken and seek my own release. It was a game to me. A very pleasurable game that provided me with everything I needed. It was an escape and it silenced my demons at least for a little while.
It wasn’t enough for me though, so I’d had my cock pierced to increase my pleasure and the woman’s. I quickly realised it had been worth the pain when women screamed out their orgasms and told me how fucking good I was. It didn’t take long after that for the nickname of Sex God to start circulating, and so my reputation was born.
Although Hobart was Tasmania’s largest city, it was still small enough for word to spread about my sexual prowess and I nearly laughed out loud each time a woman willingly sought me out to see if I was worthy of the title of Sex God.
Since my mother’s death I’d fucked my way through a hell of a lot of women and loved it, and now after seeing my father I needed that escape, that release that I would find inside a warm, willing woman.
Hitting the remote to open my garage, I parked the Porsche next to my daily runner. I kept a cheaper car so people wouldn’t realise I was wealthy. It was crazy probably but I didn’t need the hassle of gold diggers trying to trap me to get their greedy hands on my money. Most times people didn’t see what I drove anyway as I’d either catch a cab to my fuck pad or in some cases we’d walk since the apartment wasn’t that far from the club.
I walked through the door into my home and felt the peace begin to settle over me. My home was an old rectangular house I’d bought a couple of years ago. I’d done little to change the outside so it still fit in with the other modest looking homes and holiday houses that dotted the water’s edge.
The inside was a different matter. I’d had the interior gutted with just a few heavy support beams and some solid timber posts holding up the ceiling. It was a flat roofed home that was higher at one end and lower at the other, designed that way to take advantage of its waterfront views.
The entire front of the house was nearly all glass with windows that ran from floor to ceiling and the floors were polished timber. The one large room contained a centrally positioned kitchen with all stainless steel appliances and black marble bench tops. There was my living room with a huge black leather lounge that formed an ‘L’ shape around a smoky glass topped coffee table. On the wall was the largest flat screen TV I’d been able to purchase and below it, all the usual things like DVD player and a stereo. The stereo was a compact unit but I’d been sure to purchase the largest speak
ers I could and had positioned them in each corner of the room. I was an advocate for bigger being better after all.
Once I entered the calming sanctuary of my home I dropped my keys on the coffee table and continued through the house to the laundry where I stripped off my clothes and threw them straight in my washing machine. After being at my father’s, I always stripped naked when I left there. I couldn’t bear to be in clothing for any longer than necessary that had touched so much as a chair in his home.
Naked I crossed the large open floor space to the only doorway on that side of the main living area which was my bedroom. I walked past my king size bed which sat centrally positioned against a wall that wasn’t just a wall. It was open at either end and behind it was a walk through robe that ran the entire length of the wall from opening to opening.
I continued on though, heading for the other end of the bedroom where a curved wall opened up into the bathroom. There was no doorway since no one ever came to my house but me. The walls in the en-suite were white with slate grey tiles across the floor and halfway up the walls, with the top row of tiles being the same slate grey but with a white stripe running through them.
There was a long vanity at one end and a huge spa bath. The toilet was in the far corner with a half wall designed to offer anyone using it a token gesture of privacy. No one ever came to my home. It was my private domain so the wall was irrelevant to me, but the interior designer felt it necessary for the privacy wall to be present on the off chance I ever changed my mind about sharing this space.
On the curved wall was a generous sized shower. It was huge; with glass that curved to follow the wall it was mounted against. There was no door on it. I simply walked into one end of it and it was open at the other end too. The glass was little more than a partition that stopped the water from wetting down the whole room. It had long floor drains at each open end so the water couldn’t end up outside the shower space. It was clean, simple, elegant and one hell of a shower, and I loved a great shower. Along the tiled wall were three showerheads as well as three mounted overhead. I knew it was extravagant. A single man didn’t need a shower built for four but I hated being confined and I hated feeling trapped, hence why the shower was open ended and roomy. Still, I was aware of my carbon footprint and not all six heads came on at once unless I turned them all on.
Turning on two of them I stepped under the warm spray, setting it to as hot as I could handle before beginning to soap up all my body, scrubbing my skin until it was red. I washed my hair and when finally satisfied that I’d removed all traces of my time at my father’s and of him, I dried off and studied my image in the vanity mirror.
I took the time to trim the hair on my jaw so it was neat and tidy and brushed my hair until it was slicked back and tied up in its customary ponytail.
Walking to my robe, I pulled on a pair of slim fitting black chinos, not bothering with boxer briefs. I chose commando for a couple of reasons. One - I preferred the feel of not being constricted in briefs and two - it saved time when it came to sex. If things got heated quickly and the woman I was with needed to fuck urgently, I could oblige her more easily if all I had to do was lower my zipper.
Next I put on a white tee shirt and topped it off with a black shirt which I left unbuttoned. Once I’d added socks and my favourite black boots to the look, I walked back out to my kitchen and downed a glass of water.
Heading for the door to the garage, I swept up my keys off the coffee table and instead of the Porsche, this time, I climbed behind the wheel of my metallic burnt orange Ford XR8 with the black stripe that ran along the side of it and after hitting the remote to open the roller door, I pulled out onto the street to begin the journey back into the city of Hobart.
Lyla
“So now you’re a single woman I hope you’re going to let your hair down tonight and drink. That ex of yours kept you on such a tight leash; you haven’t done anything fun for bloody ages.” Karen’s voice was semi chastising when she turned to me from the back seat of the cab that was driving us to the Crazy Cougar club.
“He didn’t keep me on a tight leash.” I argued, ignoring the looks my friends shot me. “He just wasn’t one for going out much.”
“Yeah, he was boring. Jeff acted like an old fart never wanting to do anything. I still think he kept you at home to keep you away from other men. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the competition.”
Realising I couldn’t argue with my friends because there might have been some truth to what they were saying, I settled for the childish response and stuck my tongue out at them.
That made them both laugh and the rest of the trip was spent joking and giggling about what we’d all do if we found any men worthy of taking home for the night.
Neither Karen nor Ava were in relationships. They hadn’t been in several years. It wasn’t that they didn’t love men they just loved sex more and preferred to go after a man for right now rather than looking for Mr Right. In some ways they were female versions of my brother and Shay. I was surrounded by free spirited, free loving people, but I wasn’t so sure I could be one of them myself.
Still now that I was single I was approaching the night out with an open mind. I was going to have a good time without thinking I needed a man for that. Much as it pained me to admit it, Leo was right. I had to stop looking for a man who was boyfriend material. Instinctively I chose men who didn’t set my body ablaze because I had some fucked up reasoning that the man who could have me panting for him wouldn’t be one who was there for the long haul.
When the cab pulled up outside the club we all tossed money at the driver before climbing from the car. I could hear the steady thump of the music, muffled somewhat by the walls of the building and the sounds of traffic.
Once we were inside Karen took over, leading us all through the main bar, ignoring a few cat calls from a group of drunken men at a table. She led us past the gaming rooms and finally pushed opened solid wooden doors where we were immediately hit by loud, thumping music.
Although the lighting was dim, strobe lights flashed on and off, changing colours, lighting up faces and parts of the room as they turned. There were people everywhere and for a moment I hesitated, nervous about going inside. This was it; we’d officially entered the meat market.
“Come on, don’t just stand there.” Karen shouted and grabbed my hand, indicating that I take Ava’s too and joined together, we made our way through all the bodies until we reached the bar.
“I’ll get the first round.” I yelled, gesturing wildly so they would know what I was trying to say. Ava and Karen nodded, moving back so they were away from the crowds of people lining the bar area waiting to be served.
As I waited, I smoothed my hands down my dress hoping that I’d picked the right thing to wear. Wherever I looked women stood or danced in clothing that screamed indecent exposure. Skirts barely covering their asses and tops that showed a lot of skin both at the waist and the low cut necklines.
My dress seemed quite demure in comparison with its halter neck and snug fitting bodice that had a narrow clear panel of ultra-fine gauze that ran up between my breasts. At the waist, another matching panel of gauze showed off a strip of skin and from there the material hugged me to mid-thigh.
From the front it was not really revealing at all, despite the panels but the back was cut away to my waist and a slit in the fabric opened it up to just a couple of inches below my ass. The entire dress was covered over with a layer of bottle blue lace that extended below the solid layer of fabric to just above my knee. I’d thought it was sexy and alluring, or I’d hoped it was but seeing all the exposed flesh around me, suddenly I wasn’t so sure.
When one harried looking barman finally asked me what I wanted, I leaned over the granite surface to yell my orders at him and once he’d served them and I paid, I gingerly lifted the three glasses and turned to walk over to where Karen and Ava waited for me.
I only got to take one step before bumping into someone and an autom
atic apology left my lips before I’d even bothered to look up at the person I’d walked into.
A hand settled on my shoulder and I heard a deep male voice ask if I was ok. At the sound of that voice, my head shot up and I was pretty convinced my heart ended up somewhere low in my stomach when my eyes met concerned pale silvery blue ones. Shay - it was Shay. What were the odds of running into him – literally - on my first night out as a free and single woman?
“Lyla?” I wasn’t sure if he was really asking if it was me, or just saying my name, but I felt obliged to nod all the same.
“Fancy meeting you here.” I smiled, painfully aware that the sight of this man and our remembered kiss was causing every nerve ending in my body to wake up and respond to him.
“Shay are you gonna order my drink or not?” A bored, slightly frustrated sounding female voice drew my attention from the stunning man before me, and it was then that I realised much to my embarrassment, that he was not alone.
“Sure sweetness, I just bumped into an old friend but we’re done now.” He answered her and I blushed, feeling a lot like I’d just been royally snubbed and tossed aside like unwanted trash.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” My tone was clipped sounding even to my own ears, although with the volume of the music in here it was amazing I could hear anything at all. “I’m with my friends Karen and Ava.” I held up the glasses. “They’re probably wondering when they’ll get their drinks.” I shot him a forced smile.
“Enjoy your evening.” He responded before stepping past me to get to the bar. I wanted to ignore the woman with Shay but damn curiosity wouldn’t allow it and I turned to study just what kind of woman got his attention out of the crowds of women in this club tonight.
She was slightly shorter than me, even with gravity defying heels on. Petite, dark hair, nearly black, that hung in a riot of curls to her shoulders and heavy makeup that gave her a sultry look. I couldn’t deny that she was an attractive woman and it bugged the hell out of me that I felt even a moment’s disappointment that I was clearly not Shay’s type. We were polar opposites in fact.
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