The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton
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Misty lay there, unbelieving. This wasn't how it was supposed
to work! She had seen the desire in his eyes. In
fact, she had seen the kind of desire in his eyes that she
had always dreamed of seeing in a man's eyes. It wasn't the
raw lust of a horny man. It had been the look of a man who
sees something rare and precious and wishes he could be part of
that. She had seen romantic desire in his eyes.
Her pussy was much more than just damp after that kiss. When
she moved her legs she could actually hear the wet sounds that would
have embarrassed her to tears if he'd still been
there. Her hand went between her legs and she felt
the obvious slickness of her own arousal. He could
have done anything he wanted to.
But he had left.
Her fingers automatically sought out her clit and rubbed, while she
thought furiously about what his leaving meant.
His mother had said,
He has a way with women". That was no
joke. With a shudder, her body gave up a small orgasm that
distracted her. She closed her eyes and imagined herself to
be holding the camera that had taken that picture on Christy's bedroom
wall. She imagined herself putting down that camera and
walking toward him. Her fingers rubbed harder and faster as
she imagined his penis getting longer ... thicker ... until it stood
out away from his body ... for her.
Her next orgasm was a bone-crushing one that threatened to undo
everything his fingers had done to relax her. Every muscle he
had touched seemed to draw up as the ecstasy roared through her and she
curled up, her fingers still digging and pinching her clitty.
She almost cried out with the passion she felt as she jammed a finger
into her slick pussy and thought of his penis.
Unbelieving, she sensed that if she kept going, there would be another
one of those orgasms. She'd never gone for more than one.
She did now.
Bobby had been just as affected by her body as Misty had seen in his
eyes. He had smelled her arousal, and had felt her acceptance
in the return of his kiss, but he had also known she wasn't
ready. Her body was ... but she was not.
And so, when he left her room, he went two doors up the hall and
slipped inside that room. The twins were sleeping,
but that didn't last long. He woke Betty up with a kiss.
"What?" she asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, sliding his hand onto her breast. "Can I
get in bed with you?"
"About time," she said, moving over. "It's been two whole
She was naked, and within a minute he was too. She lay back,
still sleepy and let him mount her. He got her ready by
lovingly sucking her nipples and kissing her lips.
"What's going on over there?" came another sleepy voice from Matilda's
bed. "No fair!"
"You'll get your turn," said Bobby, notching the head of his prick into
"Ohhhhh yessssss," she moaned as he slid deep, prodding her
cervix. "Ohhh Bobby I've missed this so much."
He rocked in her and she got louder and louder until he silenced her
with a long kiss while she had a writhing orgasm under him.
He rubbed her clitty with the base of his prick a little longer, and
then pulled out.
"Not yet!" she complained. "Can't you go a little longer?"
"I'm really horny," he whispered. "You made me even hornier,
and I don't want to spurt and go all soft on Matilda."
"Okay," sighed Betty, pulling his face down for a last kiss.
"But you owe me."
"Right." He grinned in the darkness and then got up and
padded over to Matilda's bed. She was naked too, waiting for
him. He didn't have to get her ready. She'd taken
care of that. Like her sister, she wanted him on top this
night and she arched her hips up at him as he impaled her.
"I want at least three," she whispered, jerking her hips, trying to
speed up the first one.
"You'll take what I give you or I'll stop now and go back to Betty," he
warned, grinning, even though she couldn't see his face.
"Don't be mean!" she whispered. "You know how much we need
you, and you go off and give it to other women. You should
love us more than them."
"How do you measure love?" he asked, powering into her and
rubbing. "Like this?"
"You're doing fine," she panted. "Just keep measuring."
She did get two of her three orgasms, but he was too excited, and
stiffened before she could get number three. He
groaned and felt the soothing jets of semen ease the ache in both his
prick and his balls.
"I love it when you squirt in me," panted Matilda.
"I love squirting in you, baby," he panted back.
Misty woke. She was warm and comfortable.
She had dim memories of waking up, naked and cold, and rolling and
thrashing to get covers over her. Then, finally warm, she had
gone back to sleep.
Now, though, she was awake, with that kind of alertness that tells the
sleeper that the time for sleep is past and will not return again ...
maybe ever. It never lasts, but those mornings just require
that you get up and do something. Lying abed is simply not an
She got up and saw her reflection in the big mirror fastened to the
chest of drawers on one wall. She stopped, looking at her
image as if she'd never seen herself. Her hair was
a mess, but she didn't concentrate on that. She looked at her
breasts. A man's hands had mauled them last night, but they
didn't look any different at all. They still had their perky
pink nipples. They were still round, as if someone had slid
half a grapefruit under her skin on each side.
Her eyes dipped to the honey-blond hair between her legs. He
hadn't touched her there. After he'd left she had wished he
had. She remembered that now, but it seemed foreign
somehow. She knew that, if he had touched her, she'd hate him
this morning. She felt bad about that. He
was more than a gentleman. She knew she'd have welcomed him
last night. Somehow, though, he knew how she'd feel this
morning. She was sure of that. She'd seen the
desire in his eyes. As they'd raked up her body
they'd paused ... staring at that honey-blond hair.
She looked down and bent over, trying to see what he had
seen. There was a hand mirror on the dresser and, on impulse,
she picked it up and moved it so she could see what it looked like from
where he had been standing. She stood straddle legged, knees
bent, as if frozen in some odd ballet position. It was too
dark to see and she turned toward the brilliant light coming in the
windows. The mirror brightened. Her outer lips were
thicker than she thought they'd be from the feel of
them. Her inner lips were protruding raggedly, as
if someone had tried to tuck them in, but hadn't done a good job of it.
She stood and put the mirror back. This was silly.
She went to her suitcase and took out clothes. Putting them
on, she wondered if he'd give her another massage tonight, after the
"What am I doing?" she thought. "I don't think about this
kind of thing! What's happened to me?!"
She ran a comb through her shag cut and closed her suitcase.
It was quiet when she opened the door. She had no idea what
time it was. She couldn't remember where she'd put her watch,
but didn't search for it. She smelled meat cooking
and went to the kitchen. Mirriam was there.
"Good morning!" she said, over her shoulder.
"What time is it?"
"Ohhhh, I imagine about seven-thirty or so. It's
late. Everybody was tired last night."
Seven-thirty! Misty rarely got up before nine unless there
was a recording session to go to. Yet she felt more
vibrantly alive than she had in a long time.
"I've got ham, with biscuits and gravy," offered Mirriam.
"That would be fabulous!" said Misty, suddenly ravenous.
That was another thing. She was rarely "ravenous".
She ate because it kept her body fueled. But on
this trip she craved food. True, most of what she'd eaten was
home-cooked, but even the hamburger she'd eaten with Bobby had been
delicious in a thoroughly decadent way.
She was halfway through her plate when Bobby sauntered into the
kitchen. He was barefoot. His jeans were faded and
soft looking, and he had on a shirt just like the one Mirriam had
loaned to her when she first arrived. That lock of
hair was down on his forehead again, as usual. He looked at
her and winked.
She blushed, almost choked on the soft mess in her mouth, and stopped
chewing to get control of herself. His mother
hadn't been kidding. He did have some mysterious power!
He went to his mother, who was standing at the stove, and hugged her
from behind. Misty watched as Mirriam's head lolled back onto
his shoulder and he kissed her cheek. His hands were out of
sight, but they seemed too high to be on her waist, somehow.
"Stop that!" barked Mirriam.
"What?" He sounded injured.
Crying sounded from another part of the house.
"I'll get him," said Bobby, and left the room.
He returned with Theodore in his arms, nuzzling the little boy's
neck. The child obviously loved the attention.
As breakfast progressed, Misty felt more and more like she was
home. It wasn't anything she could put her finger
on. Bobby sat Theodore in a high chair and fed him with a
tiny spoon. Mirriam kept cooking. The
twins showed up, looking fresh and happy and sat down. There
was light chatter, and the girls said they were going to her concert
that night. They asked a few questions about what it was like
in Nashville, but they weren't as avid as they had been.
She thought about the bed and breakfast she was supposed to stay
in. If it hadn't caught on fire, she'd never had experienced
"You know what?" she asked suddenly.
Mirriam turned around.
"You should open a bed and breakfast in this house."
"I'm serious. You have made my stay so wonderful.
You took care of me. I love being here."
She blinked. Why had she said that? She
decided it was because she did love being here.
"Really!" she said, feeling excitement. "I mean
it. I'd pay to stay here, and I have a lot of
friends who would love to get away from it all and relax in a place
like this. You could make a lot of money Mirriam."
"I wouldn't know how to run a bed and breakfast," said Mirriam, turning
back to the stove.
"You already know," said Misty. "Just be
yourself! All you need to offer your guests is what
you offered me. A room, good food, and a place where they
feel like they're at home. That's how I feel."
Mirriam turned around again. Her face was smooth and she
seemed ready to smile.
"Thank you," she said. "That's the nicest thing anybody's
said to me in a long time."
"You should think about that," insisted Misty.
"We could be your maids," said Betty suddenly.
"You girls already have jobs," said Mirriam. "You should be
thinking about finding husbands, instead of working at home."
"Who needs a husband?" snorted Matilda. "Men are too much
trouble if you ask me. And just because we work for
Renee doesn't mean we couldn't do a little light work around
here. All it would mean is a little extra laundry and making
breakfast every day. You should be used to
that. Besides ... how are you going to survive if we leave?"
"I do just fine," said Mirriam. "There's the rent we get for
the land, and with most of you girls gone, I don't buy nearly as many
groceries as I used to. It's getting so the hens lay more
eggs than we can use!"
"Well, at least think about it," said Misty. "Now that I know
about this place, I know I'd like to come here again, to get away from
things when they get too hectic. I can't do that if you don't
open a business."
Mirriam laughed. "You're welcome to visit any time you like."
"Wow!" said Betty. "Misty Compton wants to stay at our house
"I do!" Misty agreed loudly, as if she wasn't sure they believed her.
"Just give us a call before you show up," said Bobby. He
grinned. "So we can stock up the larder. You eat
like a horse!"
"Bobby!" Mirriam scolded.
"That's because the food is good, you oaf!" Misty glared at
him. She couldn't hold the glare when he winked
"What's the matter with your eye?" asked Matilda.
Bobby flushed. "Nothing. I just have a speck in it
or something." He looked back at Misty. "What's on
the agenda today?"
"Just rehearsal," she said. "Jasper has more songs.
He writes pretty good songs. I may ask him if I can record a
few of them."
"You'd give the poor guy a coronary if you did," said Bobby.
"I need to see a few people today. You want to tag
along? I can come back for you later if you want to be lazy
and stay here."
"Bobby Jordan!" barked Mirriam. "You mind your manners!"
"She knows I'm just teasing. I know she works hard."
"Well," said Misty. "You do seem to know the most interesting
people. I might come with you if you'll listen to your mother
and mind your manners."
"I always mind my manners," said Bobby solemnly.
Four women shrieked with laughter at that. He took it for
thirty seconds and then got up to go put on shoes, in an attempt to
salvage what was left of his dignity.
They stopped at Janet Griswold's house first. Bobby simply
described her as a friend who was pregnant, and had no man around to
help out. When she opened the door her
face lit up in a way that Misty was slowly becoming used to when women
greeted Bobby Dalton. She looked to be about six months
along, maybe less. She was obviously a healthy woman because
her pregnancy looked good on her and she hadn't gained weight anywhere
except in her womb.
"Just checking in," said Bobby. "This is Misty
Compton. She's the latest rage in Nashville on the country
scene. She's doing the concerts at the festival over in Hutch."
"Come in!" said Janet. "It's so nice to meet you. I
read about you in the paper. Everybody's in a tizzy about you
"Thank you!" said Misty, liking the woman immediately.
Misty got to see Bobby Dalton in his role as a handyman, as he fixed a
lamp that had quit working. A chair with a loose leg went
into the back of the pickup, with a promise that it would be returned
in a day or two. Then Janet had to leave for work, and they
got back in the truck.
Next was a neat little house a few blocks away. The woman who
opened the door was known to Misty. She'd been at
the concert on the first night, and had helped Bobby restore order in
the unruly crowd.
"I thought you might like to chat with Misty when there weren't a
thousand other people around," said Bobby. "Is Connie in her
"As usual," said Prudence. She ushered Misty into the living
room and sat down.
Bobby started down a hallway, and then backed up.
"Help!" he cried in a falsetto voice. "They're after me!"
A little boy and girl, about the same age, came running after him,
laughing and yelling. Bobby "tripped" and fell
down. He became a mountain for the children to climb on.
"Ha!" he yelled. "My plan worked! Gotcha!"
He began making growling noises and pretended to eat the children's
necks as they squealed and yelled to "Mamma" for help.
"You two know what he's like," said Prudence smiling. "You
got yourselves into this."
"Got to get away!" growled Bobby, rolling to his hands and knees.
That he wasn't really trying to get away was made clear as he paused
for the little boy to climb up on his back. He had to help
the little girl with a hand under her butt, but then she settled in
behind the boy, holding onto him with her arms around him.
"Giddyap!" yelled the little boy.
Bobby crawled back down the hallway he'd started down originally.
"Twins?" asked Misty.
"Yes," said a smiling Prudence, watching them disappear.
Prudence laughed. "Not hardly. They're
mine. Three and a half. Don't ever trust a man with
a soft, silky voice." Her smile seemed not quite so genuine
as she said that.
"Oh," said Misty. "I'm sorry. I thought maybe they
were your daughter's children."
"No offense taken," said Prudence. "I knew what he was doing
while he was doing it to me. I love them. I love
him too, for that matter, even though we can't be together. I
had a husband once. One was enough for me."
Misty thought briefly on how Prudence was the third woman that morning
to suggest that husbands weren't all that desirable in this part of the
world. She was also another woman Mirriam's age who had a
child ... children in this case ... and wasn't married. She
also thought briefly about the fact that every woman Bobby seemed to
know either had children or was pregnant. That thought had no time to mature, though, as Prudence started to chat.
Bobby crawled into Constance's room with her brother and sister on his
back, telling him to "Giddyap" over and over again, even though he was
moving steadily. Constance was reading a book, sitting in an
easy chair she had moved into her room. She looked up and
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I told you I'd see you later."
Bobby reared like a horse, pawing with his hands, and the children slid
off of him to fall in a heap on his feet. They got up and
tried to make him get back down, but couldn't. They kept
pushing on him anyway.
"It's later," he said, on his knees. "I thought I'd ask you
if you want to hang around with Misty and me today."
"The one and only. She's staying at our house."
"I know that." Constance closed the book. "Is she
another one of your women?"
"Not yet." Bobby grinned. "She's a lot like you
though, so I doubt I'll be able to resist her for much longer."
"Like you ever tried to resist a woman in your life," snorted Constance.
"I did one time when I was ten," said Bobby seriously. "I
can't remember her name, but she was hot for me. I ran away."
Constance laughed and Bobby felt relief. She laughed so
rarely any more. He was glad he could get her to do that.
"How bout it?" he asked. "We're not doing anything special
... just going around and seeing folks."
"Okay," she said, standing up.
When they got to the truck Misty stood back and let Constance get in
first. Constance knew him better, and it seemed right for her
to sit closest to him. They only went a block and Bobby told
them to stay in the truck, and that he'd be right back. He
went up to a house, knocked, and then opened the door and went in.
"He does that a lot," said Misty, trying to think of something to talk
to Constance about. All she knew about the woman was that
"she'd had a rough go" as Bobby had put it. Misty couldn't
imagine what it must be like to lose your husband that way, and she
didn't know what to say.
"What?" asked Constance. She felt humbled in the presence of
this vibrant, famous singer, who had made such beautiful music up on
that stage, in front of a thousand people.
"I've been with him two or three times when he just walked in a house
like he lived there. At least this time he knocked first."
"Oh that," said Constance. "Bobby's kind of special around
here. He's very welcome in a lot of places."
"Oh," said Misty. "I see." That wasn't
true, and it was obvious she was just being polite.
"That's where Jake and Tilly Johnson live. Jake got mostly
paralyzed in a mining accident a while back. Bobby helps out,
"He seems to do that a lot too," said Misty, looking at the
house. "Helping out, I mean."
"Bobby's wonderful," said Constance. "I don't know what I'd
have done if he hadn't come into our lives."
That seemed awfully mysterious to Misty, but she didn't pry.
Instead, she opened a conversational salvo with "Granger seems like a
nice little town."
They'd been chatting, mostly about inconsequential things, when Bobby
reappeared. A slight woman with brown hair hugged him tightly
in the doorway and kissed him on the cheek. He waved and ran
back to the truck.
Next was another house, like so many others, a few more blocks across
town. Again Bobby suggested the women stay there, and that
he'd be back shortly.
"That's where Rhonda Wilson lives," said Constance, without
preamble. "She's married, but her husband never goes anywhere
and I don't know anything about him."
That seemed like a strange way to describe a family that a handyman
interacted with, but again, Misty didn't pry.
Next was a tiny little house badly in need of paint.
Constance announced that Beatrice Swallow lived there, and that she was
in her nineties.
"She sometimes doesn't know who you are," said Constance.
"Bobby checks up on her now and then to make sure she's okay."
"I'm beginning to see why he's so special to folks," said Misty,
thinking about how her mother was home alone, with no one to look in on
her and make sure things were okay.
"A lot of people love Bobby," said Constance softly.
"You know," said Misty, smiling. "I think that's kind of
funny, because when I first met him, I would rather have been around
just about any other person on Earth. I had no use for him at
Constance looked shocked. "You didn't like him?"
"We hated each other almost instantly," said Misty. "I was
having a rough time of things, and I think he decided I was spoiled or
something, because he wasn't any help to me at all."
"I can't believe that!" gasped Constance. "I'll speak to him
"No," sighed Misty. "His mother offered to do the same thing,
but it's not necessary. We're getting along much better now."
"That's not like Bobby at all!" insisted Constance. "He's one
of the nicest men I ever met!"
"Well, I know he can be nice," said Misty, thinking again about last
night, and the look in his eyes, and the fact that he left the room
instead of ravishing her. "He invited me to come with him
today. That was nice. I got to meet you.
That's been nice."
"But you're special!" said Constance. "He should treat you
Misty grinned. "Thank you, but I think one of the things he's
taught me is that I'm just like anybody else. Oh, I can sing,
and people think that's special, but one of the reasons I think we're
getting along better now is because I've gotten used to him treating me
just like anybody else."
"I think you're special," said Constance softly. "You make me
want to laugh and cry when you sing."
Misty hugged her. "Thank you. It's people saying
things like that that make me want to keep singing."
Bobby was coming back to the truck, and he had something in his hands.
"Cookies," he said, handing a bowl to Constance. "Lord knows
what they're made of, but I took them anyway."
"Oatmeal," announced Constance, pulling the lid off the Tupperware
bowl. "They look perfectly fine."
"Well you try one first," joked Bobby. "I'll head for the
hospital just in case."
He drove instead to the gas station and parked by the self serve
pump. As he was standing there, a woman came out
carrying a baby and walked over to him.
"That's Elizabeth Sinderson," said Constance. "Her husband
owns the station."
"What are you doing here?" they heard Bobby call out.
"Just came to see my man for a while," she said, walking up to
him. She looked around and then kissed Bobby on the lips,
"There are people in the truck, Liz," came Bobby's low voice.
"Oh!" she said. Then, as if it didn't really matter, she
moved to look in the window.
"Hi Connie!" she said gaily, through the glass.
Misty rolled down the window.
"I know who you are!" said the woman. "We're coming to the
Misty reached for one of the pictures on the dash. She
couldn't find the felt tip pen, though.
She shrugged and extended the picture to Liz. "I can't find
the pen I use to sign these or I'd autograph it for you."
"Oooo we have one in the office, I'm sure!"
She turned and thrust the baby at Bobby. Then, when he had
the wriggling little thing, she dashed off to the office.
Misty looked at Bobby, intending to ask him what had happened to the
marker. She was suddenly struck by the resemblance of the
baby he was holding to ... him! The baby had the
same wide forehead, and the same lock of black hair that fell down over
that forehead. Blue eyes looked back at her from the round
She was thinking about how much that baby looked like Bobby when Liz
came running back, waving the photograph in one hand, and a marker in
"Thank you so much!" she gushed, extending them through the
window. "Jeff will just die when I show him this."
"Is he here?" asked Misty, signing the picture. "I could say
Hi to him too."
"Oh, he's waist deep in an engine inside, and he's all
greasy. I'll get him cleaned up and you can wave at him
"You two are welcome to come back-stage," said Misty, grinning at the
"Could we really?!" The woman looked suddenly
faint. "Okay. Okay. Yes! We'd love that!"
She turned and grabbed the baby from Bobby's hands.
"Oh! I have so much to do! I have to go
home! I have to tell Jeff!" She turned to
Bobby. "I love you!" Then she turned back to Misty
"Thank you so much! I have to go!"
Then she was running across the pavement toward the station office.
The pump clicked off and Bobby hung it up. He headed for the
office, pulling out his wallet.
"Did she just say she loved him?" asked Misty, not quite believing her
"I told you," said Constance softly. "He's special."
There were a few more stops before they drove back to the farm for
lunch. They always involved women, and in two cases Misty saw
him handed a child to hold while he talked to the woman, or introduced
her to Misty. It was just taken for granted that
Constance was going to eat with them. Misty noticed that, at
one point, he rested his hand on Constance's thigh, and she rested her
hand on top of his.
It all seemed very strange to Misty.
Until she again remembered how she'd felt the night before, with his
hands on her.
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