6. Rafferty

Jason and Markus'sparty was days ago. I really shouldn't be giving it much of a second thought beyond the invigoration it gave me.

But I can't get a certain pretty doll out of my head.

A boy, no less. A young man. The ass-fucking wasn't all that unusual, but the fact that I eagerly jerked him off is a brand-new one on me.

I guess that's why my mind keeps drifting back to the short but gripping encounter. It's forcing me to ask a couple of pretty fundamental questions about myself. All I can say is that in almost fifty years, I've never once been swept away by another man. Those couple of guys in college pursued me, and I figured life's too short not to try most things once. But…well, they were both effeminate. Very. In fact, one of them was such a beautiful drag queen he could have almost passed as a woman.

So…it's not like I'm suddenly gay, that's for sure. But perhaps I am the slightest bit bisexual? Or maybe there's an even better word. It seems like there's a label for everything these days. I'm still definitely attracted to beauty. But it turns out that maybe I don't care so much what's between the other person's legs.

I realize someone else around the boardroom table has begun to speak, and I give myself a mental slap. In all honestly, I don't especially need to pay attention to what's being discussed. It's just a lot of my department heads patting themselves on the back for another successful quarter. But this is my company, and I need to at least feign I give a shit what these people are saying.

Christ, it's like being back at that fundraiser. I'm sure everyone here is genuinely happy that they're just that bit richer than they were yesterday. But it all feels painfully false. I'm sure no one here actually likes each other. I can hardly remember all their names, for crying out loud.

I know Kiki's name.

No, I don't.I can't help but snort, earning a raised eyebrow from my executive assistant, Audrey, who's meant to be taking notes, even though there isn't much really going on. I ignore her, pretending it never happened. She's far too savvy to let me gaslight her into anything, so I don't feel too bad. However, she's also known me long enough to know that I'll never explain anything that I don't want to.

Like how I'm fantasizing over a pretty doll whose last name I don't know. I'm sure he just uses Kiki for playtime. So I have no actual name I could search for to get any further information. Nothing I could run a background check on.

I have hook-ups with strangers all the time. Like Charleen so coldly pointed out, I never lead them on or think there could be a relationship. That's not what I'm looking for, so I rarely give the encounters a second thought other than to replay the delicious memories for my own pleasure.

I don't wonder what they're doing now. I don't wonder what their job is or who the important people are in their lives. And I certainly don't wonder if I should call them for a repeat performance.

Never have I ever slept with the same person twice except Charleen, nor have I even wanted to. But it's as if Kiki's number is burning a hole in my pocket. Somewhat literally, as I've kept the napkin he gave me on my person ever since. It's currently on the inside of my jacket, and I rub the spot absently, like I'm soothing a wounded heart.

Now that is ridiculous. It's not like I'm pining after such a brief encounter. I'm just…lusting after something gorgeous. I didn't get to be this insanely wealthy without being just a little greedy, obviously. I'm not satisfied. I want Kiki again, that's all. I experienced something entirely new and exciting with him, not like the usual young women I bed. It's going to be a lot harder to chase what we shared with someone else.

Besides, I don't want to. I don't have to.

Perhaps it's time to admit to myself that it's not a matter of ‘if' I contact him, but ‘when.' I'm just trying to play it cool with how quickly I make the call. I don't want to give my power away by seeming desperate. Again, a tactic I'm well aware of after so many years in business.

But also the thought of anyone else touching Kiki in the time it takes me to reach out makes me want to throw something.

He's mine. The control he gave me was intoxicating. In some ways, I've never felt that close to anyone in my life, and yet I know we barely scratched the surface of what we could have done. I want to play with him a lot more, and until I get him out of my system, I don't want anybody else putting their hands on what's mine.

Just in time, I realize that my CFO has glanced my way and said my name, no doubt handing the meeting back to me so I can close it. Without missing a beat, I rattle off the few statements I prepared in advance about our recent achievements but with confident assurances that in the following months we can do even better. There's a round of applause that I do my best to only cringe internally at, then I'm finally free.

"Good weekend, sir?" Audrey murmurs at me as she closes her laptop. We're the last to leave the room, and I know she's taking the chance to be cheeky and push our boundaries.

I simply give her a cool look before standing and buttoning my suit jacket. "I expect those meeting minutes typed up and emailed to all parties within the hour," I tell her.

My assistant scoffs and stands herself. "Who do you think I am? They'll be out in twenty minutes." She picks up her computer and winks at me.

I merely hum in response. But just before she reaches the door, I change my mind and find something I want to ask, after all. "Is there another meeting booked in here for now?"

She pauses at the threshold. "There is now, Mr. McKenna," she says with a grin, then closes the door behind her.

Warring with myself for a second, I unbutton my jacket once more and sit back down. The internal glass is frosted, so people might see a dark blur in here if they look closely, but otherwise, I actually have more privacy now than I would in my office. At least for a few minutes.

I pull out my phone, my only plan being to finally input Kiki's number into it. I'd been holding off, like that might somehow take some of the magic away from our encounter. But suddenly, I quite urgently feel the need to make it real. However, I'm made to stop before I can retrieve the napkin by a message I've received from my wife.

CHARLEEN: Moved my LA trip up, leaving today. Not due back until mid-August. Call if you need anything. And behave.

I scoff again, far louder this time. The audacity of that woman. She's off to fuck her bit on the side, and she expects me to behave?

I was intending on doing the opposite but now I'm going to misbehave even harder out of spite.

It takes no time at all to punch in Kiki's number and fire off a message.

RAFFERTY: Hello, Kiki. It's Daddy. Is now a good time to talk?

I'm prepared to have to wait a considerable time for a response. I have no idea what his job is or if he's allowed to keep his phone on his person. He could be in a meeting. He could still be a student and be sitting in a lecture. I feel a little uneasy at the idea of him being that young. My own son has only just graduated from college, after all.

Oh, for heaven's sake. It's not like me to doubt myself like this. We're two consenting adults, that's all that matters. He might not even have been sincere about wanting to play again. What is it the kids say these days? He could ‘leave me on read,' and I'll never get the chance to find out what job he does or even what his real name is.

Before I can tie myself up in knots, the seen icon appears, and three little dots bounce, indicating he's typing. Thank goodness. I was on the verge of becoming unhinged over a young man I met for all of thirty minutes.

KIKI: Give me a second, Daddy.

He adds a kissing face emoji. It's crazy how fast my heart is beating. I try and wait patiently, but I find myself nibbling on my thumbnail, something I haven't done in years.

The ringtone makes me jump, despite hoping that's exactly what he was doing. I take a breath and force myself to hold off answering for a couple of seconds, not wanting to appear too needy.

I genuinely don't recognize who I am right now.

"Hello," I say smoothly.

He makes a noise that's like a cross between a groan and a purr. The sound is kind of echoey, and I wonder if he's slipped into the bathroom so we can talk.

I like that. I want him all to myself.

"Hi, Daddy," he says playfully. "I've been waiting for you to call me. Did you miss me?"

"Yes," I say simply, not bothering to lie.

He chuckles. "Me, too."

I believe him.

"What are you doing right now?" I ask. I'm fully aware that the appeal of parties like the other night is to have anonymous fun. But I don't care. I want to know about his life.

He groans, and not the sexy kind. "I'm at my boring new job. It's only been a couple of weeks, and I'm already tearing my hair out. But I just graduated, and I need to pay the bills, so I took the first thing that came my way."

I chuckle at his whining. I enjoy a petulant brat. They all secretly want a firm hand to keep them in line, and I'm more than happy to oblige them.

"What do you do?" I ask, indulging him in a little chit-chat.

"My official title is office bitch," he says completely deadpan.

"Of course it is," I tease him back. I can tell how much I'm smiling, and it would be unsettling if I didn't feel the most relaxed and playful I have in a very long time.

"It is!" he squeaks indignantly. "It says so on my business cards. Or it would if I was important enough to have any."

So I've got some answers. He's graduated and is working an entry-level position that he doesn't give a shit about. I want to ask him what he really wants to do, but not over the phone. What I really want to do is give us the opportunity to have that kind of conversation later.

"What are you doing this weekend, Kiki?" I ask bluntly. I don't know how long he'll be able to hide in the men's room, and I don't want to miss the opportunity of setting something up with him.

There's a slight pause before he lets out a very enticing breath. "You, hopefully, Daddy," he rasps.

Well, I walked right into that one, didn't I? I smirk, not regretting it one bit as I rearrange myself so my thickening cock doesn't become uncomfortable.

"Correct answer, baby doll," I say, my voice low and full of promise.

Over the past few days, whenever I'd imagined seeing Kiki again, I'd planned on taking him to a hotel. But now that the perfect scenario has fallen into my lap, I fully intend on making the most of it.

There is a small voice in the back of my mind, though, that gives me pause. How much of my life do I want to share with this kinky little minx? If this goes sour, I have about a thousand percent more to lose than he does.

In that moment, however, I remember that what brought me here was an overpowering desire for authenticity. If I'm going to do this, I don't see any point in holding back. It's not like I intend on giving the boy my bank details, but I also don't particularly feel like sneaking around at hotels, either. Besides, not only would that increase our potential of being seen by someone who might question the nature of our relationship, it would also limit our time together.

I don't want another brief fling.

I want to indulge.

"What naughty things did you have in mind, Daddy?" he prompts me.

"Give me an address you'd like to be picked up from," I tell him. "I'll send a driver to collect you on Friday evening. If all goes well, I want you to be mine until Sunday night."

There's a whoosh down the line as he exhales. For a second, I worry that I might have pushed him too far and asked too much. Then I chide myself for this irritating insecurity I keep displaying. I've told him what I want. If that's not in line with his desires, he's free to let me know. This is all completely consensual, after all.

"Oh, Daddy," he whispers. "We're going to have so much fun. I hope you're going to buy me some nice things, too, like you promised. I'll be your perfect doll. You can play with me however you want. I'm yours."

Christ, I'm not going to be able to leave this meeting room anytime soon, am I? I press the heel of my palm against my throbbing cock. But it doesn't do much good. My imagination is already running away thinking about all the delicious things I want to do to that boy's beautiful body.

"Are you going to be pretty for Daddy?" I murmur.

"So pretty," he hisses like a snake. It makes me think of an anaconda. He's wrapping himself around me, and I'm just letting him squeeze me for all I've got with absolutely no regrets.

I'll spoil him. I'll pamper him. I don't care if he's using me, because we're being honest and I'm using him right back. There's no way an arrangement like this can last very long, so I intend to play the game every second I can.

Down the line, I hear voices and the banging of a door. "I've got to go, Daddy," he whispers so quietly I barely hear him. God, that turns me on. He's my beautiful dirty secret, and only mine.

"Good boy," I tell him softly. "Text me the address you want to be picked up from, and Daddy will take care of everything."

He giggles before ending the call. The sudden silence in the room envelops me, but I quite like being alone with just my thoughts for a moment. This gorgeous creature is giving himself over to me for two days and nights. I will own him as my toy to pleasure myself with. The rush of power and dominance does nothing to help with my raging erection.

Without overthinking it, I grab my folio that will serve as enough of a protective shield to get me back to my office so hopefully no one will notice my predicament. Then I'm locking myself in my private bathroom, where my right hand and I are going to have a one-to-one so I can start planning just exactly how I'm going to enjoy my beautiful doll this weekend.