Chp. 11
Don spent the next couple of days in a funk. He felt lonely again, like after Sheila had left. Flora was still there, and still the same--she still cleaned the pool in her micro-bikini, she still strutted around the house half-dressed at best, she still did her chores with as much exaggerated bending and stretching as possible, she still rubbed her tits and ass against him when she helped in the kitchen, she still fucked herself in the bedroom every day and gave the videos to Don to watch. But, there was a change, an internal one, for Don.
Don fell more than lonely, he felt rejected. Sheila had rejected him. His daughters had rejected him (both had chosen universities out of state, and rarely called). And now Flora had rejected him. He hadn't tried to stop her when she laid herself on top of him and kissed him. But her response had been to walk away. Surely she had understood his tacit approval. She must have known that doing nothing was doing something. Didn't she?
Flora had always been good at reading him, and he, in turn, always felt like he understood her. Now however, he was adrift. This disconnect, as much as watching her walk away from him with a hard-on, created the distance he felt from her. It just added to the distance he'd been feeling since he began working from home. It was ironic, and typical, he mused glumly, that every time he took a step towards her, she moved back. He wondered, with muzzled bitterness what she thought would help, what she thought his problem was.
At the same time, he had to admit that she had impressed him again. She had matured a great deal in the two months since he'd known her. The potential that he'd seen in her was finally free to come to the surface, and now she was truly shining. He was proud of her, amazed by her. But his admiration only made him want her more. He was happy for her and jealous of her happiness at the same time. He felt like such a fucking mess. Was that what she'd walked away from? Maybe she was right to do so.
That Saturday, Don woke to find Flora up, dressed, and waiting for him.
"What's up?" Don asked cautiously. "Do you have an appointment today?"
Flora smiled and put away her phone. "I do. With you. Go get dressed. We're going to breakfast."
"Yes ma'am," Don replied, turning around and heading back to the bedroom.
Flora drove him to his favorite breakfast place. The same place he'd taken her at the start of their journey.
"It's on me, Don," Flora told him as she perused the open menu.
"Oooh. Big spender," Don teased. "How's the site doing?" he asked seriously.
"Great." Flora put down her menu. "That new video with Star is a huge hit. Even bigger than yours. But barely, and she brought her own fanbase with her." She paused. "Do you ever read the comments, Don?"
"Ugh," Don grimaced. "No. I did once, and that was enough. They were mostly awful. So many fucking pigs. I hope you don't read them."
"Of course I do. It's my job. And those pigs are paying for your breakfast. Do make sure you get bacon."
"I just hate the thought of guys talking to you that way." He looked at her for a second. "You know how to protect yourself, right? Online, I mean. Protect your identity."
"Yeah, Don." Flora waved him off. "I'm all over that, don't worry," she said with her customary nonchalance. "If you read the comments, then you'd know you were a big hit. People want more of you."
Don laughed. "They're paying to watch you. They don't want to see me."
"They do though," Flora insisted. "You're not reading the comments, I am. You come up a lot."
"They want to see you with a guy," he sneered.
"Well that's for sure," Flora admitted with a shrug. "But they loved what you did. They want to see what else you can do. And so do I."
Don was just beginning to ponder this when the waitress came. It was a new girl he hadn't seen before. They ordered and the subject changed. As usual, Flora inhaled her food, finishing first.
Don still had half his breakfast on his plate. "Do you want to tell me now?" he asked as he prepared a bite of pancakes. He looked up at her as he put the food in his mouth. She was smiling wryly. "I can tell when I'm being buttered up," Don explained. "Well, I can tell when you're buttering me up."
Flora picked up an unused ramekin of whipped butter. "Maybe I just like butter, Don." Staring at Don seductively, she licked a lump of butter out. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste as she moved the butter around on her tongue. She opened her eyes again as she made an exaggerated show of swallowing it. Then she opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue, to show him it was all gone.
"Stop it," Don said instinctively. He looked around to see if anyone had been watching her.
"Ha!" Flora snorted. "But you're right, Don. I need a favor."
"Of course," Don replied immediately as he cut another triangle from the stack. "What do you need?"
Flora hesitated. She looked down and wrung her hands. "I need your dick, Don," she finally blurted out.
Don gagged on the bite in his mouth and then coughed a few times before finally swallowing. He calmly put down his fork. "You need what?"
"I need a dick, Don, and I want yours."
Don didn't say anything. His mind was too busy trying to understand what Flora was saying to form words. It seemed clear what she was saying, but he didn't believe it. There was a catch, something he was missing. He wasn't going to say anything until he figured out what it was.
"For Stacy," Flora clarified. Don nodded knowingly. "There's only so much masturbating we can do. The lesbian shit is good. We'll do more of that, for sure. But it's time to kick it up. It's time to add some cock." She said that last part a little loudly, and then chuckled as Don looked nervously around to make sure no one heard.
"Why me?" He asked quietly. "Can't you find some other guy? Doesn't Stacy know somebody?"
"Probably," she shrugged. "Do you really want me bringing some other guy into the house? For that?"
Don didn't say anything. 'Fuck no!' Was his answer though. And he also didn't want her 'working' somewhere else either. He didn't feel great about this whole endeavor, but at least in his own home, he could keep an eye on it, sort of. And the idea of sitting in his chair as some other guy...No way. He couldn't bear that.
"And I told you already, people want to see you again." She shifted in her seat, clearly trying to find the right angle to approach something. "It's more than that though, Don." Flora paused.
"What is it?" Don asked perfunctorally.
"Well," Flora started falsely. She shifted in her seat again and leaned forward. "So, I've been thinking for a while that I needed something different to set my site apart. Something that would get people's attention and keep it. You know. I thought that some kind of ongoing storyline would do it. Like serialized porn, or something. But it had to have, you know, drama, tension that kind of thing. Like maybe one of those 'will they, won't they' things. People love that shit."
Don looked doubtful, making Flora pause. "Do they? In porn? I thought the point of watching porn was that they always do." Don realized how negative he was being. "Don't get me wrong," he said quickly, leaning towards her. "I think you're on to something with that serial idea. That's great. I'm just not sure about making people wait for the pay off."
Flora pouted. "Oh Don, have you never tried teasing a woman, or been teased? That's so sad. If you had, then you'd know what I'm talking about." She smiled coyly at him.
Don ignored Flora's bait. He sat back and thought about it. "OK. You've got a good point. Maybe that'll work, but it'll be tricky. So what's your storyline?"
"Yeah," she agreed. "And that's what I was having trouble figuring out for a long time. Until that video you made."
Don wanted to object to her wording. She was making it sound like it was all his idea. He let it go. "And the huge response it got. I started reading all the comments, and it hit me. Everyone wanted to know more about Daddy. Who was he? Why was he mad? What was our relationship? How was I going to make it up to him? How did he fuck me? All that stuff, and much worse. But I realized, that was my story."
Don sighed. "I guess that could work as a storyline. But you've got the wrong guy. I'm no porn star. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I had sex." He sat back, dejected by his own admission."
"It's like riding a bike, Don." Flora smirked at him. "And I know you've been practicing a lot lately." She paused to let that sink in. "Besides, it's not as much about your physical stamina as it is about your mindset. And I, and everyone else, could see you have that. You're ready, Don; to let go and show the world what you can do."
"As an internet pornstar?" Don asked skeptically. "My dick is not what I ever wanted to show the world."
"It's a nice dick, Don," Flora said smiling. "But seriously, there are worse things. And a lot of guys would give a nut to do this. Why not give it a try? I'll never show your face anyway. You'll just be the mysterious 'Daddy'. It's perfect." Flora held up her hands to show that her case was concluded.
Don's look of skepticism remained as he just looked at Flora, thinking about what she'd said.
"I literally just want your dick, Don." Don looked around him again. "You put it in front of the camera, and Stacy sucks you off til you cum. That's it. No biggie."
"No biggie," Don scoffed. But it was a compelling argument. Surely he could do that. In fact, he wanted to do that. He'd fantasized about doing exactly that. It was like Flora had read his mind again. He'd love to watch and feel his cock in beautiful, sexy Stacy's mouth. Who wouldn't. But with Flora watching? With it being filmed, to be put on the internet? Nobody would know it was him, but still...he was starting down a road that he couldn't see the end of. If he let Flora enmesh him in her storyline, where would it go, and would he be able to extricate himself if things went too far? Did he care?
He knew how almost all 'will they, won't they' stories ended--they do. Was that Flora's plan? Did she have a plan? He could ask of course, but if the answer was 'no', he didn't want to know. She was giving him his hope back again. But without hope there was no disappointment, so did he want to open that door again? He didn't like feeling this way (though it was undeniably comfortable for him), but he would get over it. If he started again, the inevitable disappointment down the road would be even that much more acute.
