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Twenty-five years had been a long time for being a fool, but Mark had grown used to it after so long. At 17, he failed to step up as a man and take the responsibility for being the father of the child he had fathered. He wasn't a legal "dead-beat dad" since he paid the mandatory child support to his son's mother. However, due to the stipulations in the court order, he was not allowed custody or visitation rights, as his long since ex-girlfriend was 20 at the time of the conception and he was still considered a minor.
As he grew older, and became engrossed in his work, Mark never saw reason to pursue finding his son and be the father figure the boy would need. Instead, he focused on his work and a little something he thought would come in handy later in life.
Mark looked at the small house from the street and took a deep sigh before putting his best foot forward. It had been 25 years since the birth of his son, and today, he would finally get to see the young man he had grown up to become. After knocking on the door, Mark stood nervously on the stoop and waited for the face he'd been waiting years to get a chance to see. He knew that if this wasn't a good meeting, then his "Plan S.R.," as he has begun to call it, would begin.
When the door opened, Mark was not expecting the sight that was before him. It was like someone had put a magic mirror on the other side of the door, one that would show the person looking into it to see themselves nearly 20 years younger.
"Can I help you?" asked the man standing at the door.
"I'm sorry," Mark stammered. "I think I have the wrong house."
"Wait," the man called out to him as Mark turned to leave. When he turned to look at the young man, his heart leaped into the throat at thoughts of finally getting to hug the young man that was his son. "You're my father, aren't you?"
"I...I.... Yes, I am," Mark replied, looking down at the ground. "But I...I don't belong here. I'm going to go."
"Wait just a minute," said the young man again. "You came all the way here to see me, at least have the decency to let me show you around."
Mark smiled at this offer and looked at the man, seeing a smile on his face as well.
"Come on in," he said, holding the door open for his father.
As Mark entered the small house, he found that the home was much better decorated than his own small one room apartment. Looking around, the younger version of himself just smiled at him, letting the father see that the young man had been doing well with his life.
"As you can see, and as I'm guessing you wanted to make sure of, I am doing well in my life," he told Mark. "I own this house, at least I will when I pay off the home loan in 20 years. I've graduated college with a Masters in Business and working in an old company that's still growing. I've even got my own office where I hang my diplomas, along with pictures of mom and my fiancee. After a little over one and a half years, I'm making over 45 thousand dollars a year and looking forward to a raise in the next six months."
"Wow," Mark replied, looking around the nice home and all the new electronics and other equipment. "I had hoped you would do well, but I had never guessed that..."
"No, you wouldn't have guessed, would you?" asked the young man, interrupting Mark. "Why would the man who gave me life but never wanted to be a part of it, expect me to do any good with that life?"
Mark turned and saw the younger version of himself was no longer smiling.
"You were never there for me," he kept talking. "You never did anything for me but send a small amount of money for my mother to use to try and give me a decent life. After two horrible step-fathers who treated me as the bastard son, she finally found a good man that truly took care of us and I have come to know as Dad, unlike you.
"I have always wondered if and when you would come find me and I am glad that you finally did, too. I have wondered for years, especially on the nights when I was bruised from a drunken step-father's beating, why my real father never came to rescue me. But, now that I'm grown and no longer need you, I'm very glad to see you in person.
"You, Mark, are only my father, and nothing more to me. You have never been and never will be a man I can or will call Dad. You are nothing more to me than a man I pass on the street with little thought as to who you are or what your life is like. I know you wanted to see that I have done well, and as you can see, I have. Now, I would like you to leave, and never come back to see me again."
Mark's head quickly dropped along with his shoulders. Without a word, he turned toward the door, and stepped out of his son's life once more. He turned to offer a handshake and an envelope, but his son had just closed the door in his face and Mark clearly heard the dead bolt lock him out for good.
Walking back to the street, he started walking away, back toward the main road that ran through the heart of Vegas. As soon as he reached a convenient store, Mark called a taxi and waited for it to show up. When he climbed in, he gave driver two locations.
"Hey, pal, I can take you to the post office easy, but Succubus Ranch is out of my distance, unless you have the money for my time, the gas, a bite to eat on the way, and one massive tip," the driver told him.
Mark pulled out of his inside pocket a roll of $20 bills and showed the driver through the plexi-glass partition.
"That'll get us there," Mark told him, then held up another bundle, this time of $50 dollar bills, "and that will get you back."
At the post office, Mark paid for a stamp and handed the addressed envelope to the clerk behind the counter with a special wish. The clerk pulled out a yellow sticky piece of paper and wrote the date of seven days from that point and put it on the envelope. Mark watched this and thanked the clerk before going back to his taxi and climbing into the back.
During the four hour drive, the driver droned on about how his fellow drivers aren't going to believe this fare he had picked up and many other sites that were available for Mark when they returned to Vegas if he wanted the driver to take him anywhere else. When they pulled into the almost full parking lot, the driver started looking for a place to park the car, but Mark tapped on the partition separating them.
"Don't bother parking, my friend," he told him. "I won't need a ride back." He then handed through the small opening the bundle of 50's and climbed out of the car and stood looking across the parking lot at the steps up to the small southern style home.
As the taxi drove out of the parking lot, Mark walked toward the building. Along the way, he met a man; and it wasn't the man he was expecting to meet here.
"Mark, you don't want to do this," the aged, wizened man said to him. "I know you're in pain but it will pass, if you just let it."
The old man's eyes seemed to gleam behind the white bangs. Mark stared into them as best as he could and thought he might be looking into eternity before the man blinked. Taking a step back, Mark looked the old man up and down. As if he was expecting it, Mark wasn't surprised to find the man was wearing a long flowing bright white robe. Even in darkening light of the coming night and the dark colors of the neon sign, it seemed to emit its own light.
"Don't do it, Mark. He still loves you. He just needs time to find that love."
"What the fuck do you know about it?" Mark yelled at the old man, his anger suddenly coming out at the mention of his son. "You don't know shit about what I'm feeling or what has happened all these years. You'll never know what I've been through or suffered because of all of this. I'm done with it and all I want is to get a 'happy ending', for once."
Walking past the man and quickly toward the stairs of the Ranch, he began to laugh at the joke he just made. He'd had several "happy endings" at massage parlors before they were shut down, but if what he'd heard about Succubus Ranch, he was about to see what a true "happy ending" really was; and it wasn't going to be a simple hand job, either.
Mark took the steps quickly; two at a time, feeling a great weight begin to bear down on him as he climbed. When he reached the porch, he dragged his feet across the wooden floor to the door and raised his hand to knock. Before his knuckles could swing forward, the door opened and he was a little surprised to see the person standing before him.
Mark had stumbled across the Succubus Ranch on the internet and thought about visiting it several times over the years; but he never had the money thanks to his future plans to come by and visit. After a lot of research from other visitors and news articles that the Succubus Ranch had appeared in, Mark expected the co-owner of the brothel, Jason, to open the door, as everyone always described would happen.
"Welcome to Succubus Ranch, Mark," said the delicate, seductive and arousing voice of Maradith, the other co-owner of the Ranch. "We've been expecting you."
At the sound of her voice, the weight lifted off Mark's shoulders and he willingly walked across the threshold into the lair he knew it to be.
"How did you know I was coming?" he asked, turning to look at the beautiful woman closing the door.
"We have our ways, of course," she told him, looking him up and down. "You're really going to enjoy your time here, I promise you that."
