The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter Four

Misty decided that the best way to break this particular mule was to wear him out. That she was tired herself was put aside. When Rodney, beaming appropriately and treating her like the star she was, walked her out to the truck, she got in and started her plan.

"I'm hungry," she announced. "Take me to get something to eat."

"I thought you needed clothes," said Bobby.

"We'll do that after I've eaten," she said, her voice short.

"Something to eat," he said.

"That's what I said!" She tried to put some snap in her voice.

"We don't have fancy five star restaurants around here," he said, starting the truck.

"And don't you have a nicer car or something?" she pressed. "Something that won't get my new clothes all dirty, once I have them?"

"I have a car, but it's old. You wouldn't like it either," he said, putting the truck into motion. "Where do you want to eat?"

"How should I know?" she asked, getting frustrated. "I've never been here before!"

"What kind of food do you like?" he asked, patiently.

"Lobster," she replied instantly.

"I don't think anybody in town serves lobster."

"Okay, then, caviar," she said stubbornly. She'd tried the nasty stuff, and didn't really like it, but she wasn't about to admit that to this insufferable man.

"There's one place in town that might have that," he said amiably. "You might have to eat it out of the can, though."

It would have gone on like that for some time, had he not suddenly pulled into a Dairy Bee.

"How 'bout a burger?" he asked, shutting the truck off.

"I'm not eating at a drive-in!" she announced, her voice surly.

"Then you're not really hungry," he said, starting the truck and pulling out. "We'll just go find you something to wear before the stores close. Maybe you'll be hungry after that."

It didn't matter what she did, or how much she complained. He somehow turned her statements against her. She would have screamed at him, but he had this maddening gift for making it sound like he was doing exactly what she demanded, even though he did absolutely nothing that she demanded.

When they stopped at a clothing shop, and she insisted that nothing was suitable, he simply took her to another one. That happened three times before it caught her by surprise when, as they got back in the truck, he said: "Well, that's if for Hutchinson. I guess I'll have to take you back to Wichita."

"The stores will be closed!" she yelped.

He looked at his watch. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, maybe tomorrow."

"I have to rehearse tomorrow!" she wailed. "I don't have anything to sleep in tonight!"

"You can always sleep naked," he suggested, looking straight ahead. "They probably have a washing machine, where you're staying. They can wash what you have on, and you can wear it again tomorrow, until we find an acceptable store."

"Nooooooo," she wailed.

Misty's problem was that, at that point, she was tired, and weak from hunger. Nothing had gone right all day. Nothing had gone right for several days, in fact. This was supposed to be her chance to break away from the crowd ... to be the headliner ... even if it was in some cow-town that nobody had ever heard of. Her pride and stubbornness had kept her from getting something to eat, and from having perfectly nice clothing. She'd seen several outfits she'd normally have loved to buy and wear, but she couldn't admit that now. She was aware of that, on some level, but she blamed it on Bobby Dalton, instead of her own prima donna behavior.

Being young, and not having been able to break the mule she was with to riding, she did what most young women do when everything goes wrong.

She cried.

Initially, Bobby felt only satisfaction when the young woman in the truck burst into tears. As it went on, though, and he heard the pain in her voice as she railed at him, his normal nature began tweaking his conscience.

He admitted to himself that, despite the fact that she was a spoiled brat, she was, in fact, the star performer in Hutchinson's celebration, and that, if she continued to feel like she was feeling, she wouldn't be worth squat on stage. Most of his compassion was for Amanda, whose reputation might suffer if this didn't work out. He allowed just a little compassion to flow toward his charge.

He knew he wouldn't be able to make things better. So he took her to Amanda's house.

"What are we doing here?" sniffled the crying girl.

"We're going to get you something to eat, and let you watch Amanda tear me a new asshole," he said.


"You need something to eat. I'm sure Amanda will have some leftovers in the fridge. She's a good cook. Besides, you need to meet Ron. He owns the station, and he's your biggest sponsor."

"I need clothes!" she wailed.

"We'll borrow something from Mandy for you to sleep in," he said patiently. "In the morning I'll figure something out about the clothes. Don't worry. You don't have to go on stage until something like eight in the evening. We'll get you appropriately dressed before then."

"This is not like I thought it would be!" she sobbed.

"Life isn't always fair," said Bobby. "Don't worry, though. I'll try to do a better job of making life fair tomorrow."

A very startled Amanda answered the knock at the door, and her eyes widened as she saw her star attraction slumped and crying, beside Bobby. Her reaction was swift.

"I thought I told you to take care of her!" she snapped.

"It's complicated," said Bobby, almost flinching.

"It is not complicated, Bobby Dalton!" snarled Amanda, opening her arms to the crying girl, who rushed forward to be comforted.

"She wanted Lobster and caviar," said Bobby, trying to mitigate Amanda's ire. "She wouldn't eat at the Dairy Bee."

"Of course not, you idiot!" said Amanda tersely.

"She didn't like any of the clothes she saw!" said Bobby stubbornly.

About then a toddler appeared, as if by magic, and attached himself to Bobby's left leg. Misty watched, through tear-filled eyes as he stooped and picked up the little boy, who hugged his neck.

"Hi, sport!" said Bobby, his face breaking into a smile. "At least you still love me."

"You take care of Mikey," snapped Amanda. "I'll take care of Misty, since you don't seem to be able to do the simplest thing!"

"Suits me," said Bobby, without a trace of guilt in his voice. "Come on, buddy," he said to the little boy. "You want me to read you a story?"

Misty, responding to the hug she was getting from Amanda, and the dressing down this irritating man was getting from the woman hugging her, calmed somewhat. She calmed enough to see a completely different side to the irritating man, who kissed the child on the cheek and threw him up into the air. Both women drew in breath as the toddler was suddenly suspended in the air, and then fell into Bobby's arms, giggling and laughing. He laughed even more when Bobby made growling noises and "ate" the little boy's neck.

Amanda hustled Misty into the kitchen, where the remains of supper were still making a delicious odor that caused Misty's stomach to growl audibly.

"I'm so sorry," cooed Amanda, sitting Misty at the kitchen table, which was covered with a red and white checkered table cloth exactly like the one Misty's mother still insisted using on their brand new table, in their new house, in Nashville. "Bobby can be terribly stubborn sometimes."

Amanda, only recently a mother, had embraced that role in her life just like she had embraced any other role she played. Though she didn't have a lot of experience with babies yet, her maternal instincts had been awakened, and they were much more evolved than she both knew, or would have thought. Those instincts just naturally seemed to come into play when soothing this heartbroken girl. As she bustled around, getting a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans ready, she sympathized with Misty's problems, setting aside her own impatience with the girl for not bucking up and dealing with things.

That helped, because Misty's mother had always been the one who could calm her down. But, to be honest, the food helped just as much. This was a home cooked meal, simple though it was, and Misty was famished. Soon she couldn't talk at all, because her mouth was always full. Amanda had perfected her homemade bread again, and thick slices of that topped off the meal.

In the process, emotions calmed and, when she could talk again, Misty began to talk to her new friend. Once assured that her immediate problems would be dealt with, though those assurances were somewhat vague, the up-and-coming singing star found herself just talking. It was fun to just talk. Everybody in her life, recently, was too busy to just chat, and everything they talked about was career oriented. Amanda, though, had the knack of getting a conversation going that slid into areas much less stuffy, and of much more interest to a young woman whose whole life was ahead of her, not the least her professional life.

"I know how hard it is for a woman to get ahead," said Amanda, at one point.

That led to the sharing of stories of both complaint and victory over adversity.

"Does your husband support you in your job?" asked Misty, at one point.

"Oh, I'm not married," said Amanda, clearing the table. "Marriage isn't for me. Not yet, anyway."

"But the baby ..." said Misty.

"Mikey?" Amanda pinked up just a little. "He's the light of my life, but I wouldn't marry his father." Misty didn't notice the slight frown that came across Amanda's brow as she remembered that Bobby was part of the problem she was dealing with.

"Oh!" said Misty, embarrassed that she had pried. "That happens back in Hog Holler a lot."

"Hog Holler?"

Now it was the singing star whose cheeks got rosy.

"That's where I'm from," she said. "It's called Hog Holler, and it's back in the mountains."

"No wonder you're so good," said Amanda. "I've heard some recordings of mountain music, and the technical expertise I hear in those songs is astonishing."

"Thank you!" said Misty, pleased at the honest compliment. "But those good old boys are pretty good at getting a girl in trouble too."

Amanda laughed. "I actually wanted to have Michael. He wasn't really an accident. It didn't start out that way, but I loved his father so much I just had to have a little piece of him to keep forever."

"I thought you said you wouldn't marry him," commented Misty.

"I wouldn't. Not now, anyway. He's too wild to tame, I think. But I love him just the same. He changed my whole life."

"Who is he?" asked the girl, curiously.

Amanda realized how dangerous this direction of conversation was. Rather than say anything else, she just changed the subject.

"Have you had enough? I'm sure Daddy would just love to meet you. He's a big fan of yours."

Misty had been around long enough to know when a particular subject was taboo, and recognized the change of subject for what it was. She blushed a little more, feeling like she had pried even more.

"I'd love to meet him," she said, trying to be gracious. She also wondered why, when she'd been here almost an hour, that she hadn't already met the man.

They had to go through the living room to get to Ron's bedroom, where he was sitting in his wheel chair, reading a book that was laid on the table affixed to his chair. Bobby had made a contraption that held the book, and allowed Ron to turn the pages with his unruly hand. He usually read while Amanda cleaned up after supper. Then, if it was still early, they might watch some TV together. If it was late, they engaged in more intimate pastimes.

On their way through the living room though, they stopped. Bobby was sprawled out on the couch, the little tyke lying on his chest. A book was laid across the little boy's back, open, but not being read.

Both were sound asleep.

"I can't believe that," said Misty, her voice a whisper.

"What?" Amanda was confused.

"That little boy looks so peaceful and happy, lying there. I can't believe he'd be like that with that infuriating man."

Amanda frowned again, but then forced a smile.

"Bobby has some very good qualities," she said, reaching for the girl's elbow, to pull her along. "You two got off to a rocky start, but he's a very nice man, down deep. He's honest, and very loving."

Misty looked askance at the woman holding her elbow. "I'll believe that when I see it," she said, loudly enough that Michael shifted on Bobby's chest. She then whispered, "Sorry."

Misty Compton hid her shock at the condition of the man she was taken to see. She hid it well, pasting a professional smile on her face, while her mind recoiled from the sad looking man, who looked at her from a twisted body and hooted like some kind of animal.

"He had a stroke several years back," explained Amanda, unnecessarily. "But Bobby taught us how to communicate with him. I'll show you how."

She then explained how her father used the bean bags to answer yes and no, and introduced her father to the festival's star attraction.

"How are you?" asked Misty weakly.

Ron waved his hand and hooted.

"You have to ask him a question that can be answered yes or no," reminded Amanda. "I'll show you." She turned to her father. "Have you heard any of Misty's songs on the radio?"

Ron's hand slapped down on the green bag. His mangled voice made an almost tune that, to Misty's astonishment, she recognized as "I'll Always Love You", one of her most popular songs.

"Is that 'I'll always love you?'," she asked.

His hand slapped down on the green bag again.

This tiny bit of intelligence, displayed by a man who looked like a basket case, broke through Misty's shock at his appearance. She also felt shamed, somewhat by her initial horror. That the poor man would try to hum one of her tunes was really sweet.

"Have you heard 'Take Me To The Fair'?" she asked.

Again his hand slapped down on the green bean bag, and again, his voice hit three or four of the proper notes, mixed in with a dozen that were completely wrong. Still, to her ear, it was recognizable.

"Which is your favorite?" she asked. She frowned. "Oh ... you can't answer that. How silly of me! Is 'I'll Always Love You' your favorite?"

Red bag.

"It's not? How about 'Take Me To The Fair'?"

Again he put his hand on the red bag.

In the end she had to go through six songs before his hand went back to the green bag. As it turned out, his favorite song of hers was "Tumbledown Shack", which she had written about the trailer she had been living in. The message in the song was that what mattered was where home was, not what home looked like. That song hadn't been released as a single, and didn't get much airplay on the radio either.

"How sweet!" giggled the young singer. "You know I wrote that song about my own home."

His hand went to the red bag.

That got her talking again, and she told him the story about how the song came to be, and what her home had been like, and what had made a ratty old drafty trailer the place she would always think of as "home".

They spent forty-five minutes talking to him and, before she left, Misty said she'd sing his favorite song during the concert, and that she'd dedicate it to him.

His excited hooting woke Bobby up.

When Bobby appeared in the doorway, holding a still sleeping little boy, Amanda stepped forward to take her son.

"I'll just put him to bed. It's getting late anyway. You need to get Misty to the B and B."

"Can you front her something to wear to bed?" asked Bobby, kissing the little boy's cheek before turning him over to Amanda. "We ... um ... didn't get a chance to get her anything before I brought her here."

"It's okay," said Misty automatically. She liked Amanda, and she liked Ron too. It made her a little less irascible toward Bobby. "I'll manage. It would be nice to have something to put on tomorrow though. Anything will do. Bobby's going to take me shopping again in the morning ... aren't you?"

She looked straight at him.

He sighed, but then smiled, which surprised her.

"I guess I am," he said. "To be honest, though, you don't need anything special to play here in Hutch. Plain clothes will do fine, if you ask me."

"I don't remember asking you," said Misty, with false sweetness in her voice.

"Bobby!" said Amanda, warning in her voice.

"Okay, okay," said Bobby holding up his hands. "Whatever she needs. All I'm saying is that she looks just fine in normal clothes, that's all."

Amanda took Misty into her bedroom, both to find something to loan the girl, and to get them apart. Misty accepted an overlarge T shirt to wear for the night, and Amanda led her back to the living room, where Bobby was waiting.

"You go ahead," said Amanda to her star attraction. "I just need a little word with Bobby."

"Okay, thanks a lot for the shirt. It was really great to see you again. Say bye to your father for me please?"

Misty grinned, as she went out the door. She knew that what was going on in there was that Bobby was being told, once again, to cater to her wishes.

She was half right.

Of course ... that meant she was half wrong.

She just couldn't resist trying to peek a little, to watch that disturbing man get his come-uppance, which is why she went to the side, on the porch, instead of to the truck. As she peeked in, she saw Amanda holding both of Bobby's hands and speaking earnestly. She couldn't hear the words, but the frown on Amanda's face made her smile again.

"Bobby, please," pleaded Amanda, inside. "You've got to be nicer to her. Everything has gone wrong for her, and she needs our help."

"You get what you deserve," muttered Bobby.

"I'll make it worth your while," said Amanda, inching closer to him. "I'm dying for you right now. In fact, when you drop her off, why don't you just come back here and spend the night?"

"Now that's something that might make putting up with her a little easier," said Bobby, grinning.

"Here's a little taste, just to make sure you hurry," said the woman in his arms.

Amanda surged against him, and reached up to put her arms around his neck, and pull him into an open-lipped kiss.

Misty was about to stop peeking and go to the truck. She couldn't hear anything. It was enough to know that Amanda was putting him in his place.

Then she saw the woman press against the man, and her open lips searched for his. Bobby's hands slid to grip Amanda's butt and he actually pulled her up onto her tiptoes, and moved her hips from side to side. The only reason he could possibly be doing that was that he was pressing his ... his ... his manhood against her!

Misty was not a virgin. Her cousin three times removed, Wally, by name, had initiated her into the mysteries of being a woman, back when she was sixteen. Wally had been eighteen at the time, and had boasted that he might ruin her for other men.

She hadn't been all that impressed.

It wasn't that it hadn't felt good. After the initial pain, it had felt fine. She hadn't had that feeling she could get from using her fingers, but it had been very nice, all things considered. He'd made a mess all over her stomach, when he pulled his cock out of her and spurted it all over her front. She'd had nothing to clean herself up with, and had had to use her panties. Then, with her clothes back on, she'd had to do something with that soaked garment. She'd ended up stuffing the panties behind a dusty old box in her aunt's basement, where her deflowering had taken place. Wally had simply zipped up, said, "Thanks" and gone back upstairs.

Since then she'd concentrated more on her music than on men. Her music always made her feel good. Men were much less reliable.

But Misty had enough experience to recognize two people doing something that both of them were excited about. No wonder this insufferable man felt like he could be so rude. He was porking his boss!

Her good mood vanished, and she went to the truck, barely getting her door closed before Bobby came out. At least he wasn't grinning from ear to ear.

They'd gone two blocks before either of them spoke.

"So," said Misty, thinking she was being devious. "Tell me about your girlfriend."

"I don't really have one," said Bobby.

"Just like a man," thought Misty. "Love 'em and leave 'em. Get what you can and wander off looking for another conquest!" She didn't say it out loud, but she wanted to.

"You seemed pretty friendly with Amanda," she said, trying to prick his conscience.

"I have lots of friends," said Bobby, turning onto the street where the bed and breakfast was.

They both saw the fire trucks and police cars at the same time, and Bobby's foot hit the brake pedal hard. Smoke was coming from the roof of a tall Victorian house. There were firemen on the roof. One had an axe and the other had a hose.

"Uh oh," sighed Bobby.

"Can't we just go around?"

"That house is where you're staying," said Bobby. "Where you were staying," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Shit, shit, shit!" moaned the girl. "What else can go wrong?"

"Stay here," said Bobby. "I'll go see what's up. Maybe it's not too bad. I don't see any flames or anything."

"I'm not staying someplace that smells like smoke!" said Misty, her voice strident.

"Maybe it doesn't smell like smoke!" argued Bobby. "Just stay here. I'll go find out."

Misty probably wouldn't have left the truck, except that Bobby had told her to stay there. For that reason alone, a few minutes after he left, she got out and followed after him.

He was talking to a fireman with a white hat, instead of a yellow one, like all the others. There was a woman with him who was crying, and looked a mess, with her hair all flying every which way, and smudges on her face.

"It was those damn new locks that the city made me put on the doors!" the woman was moaning, as Misty walked up behind Bobby. "They lock automatically when you go outside. I just went out to dump the trash, and I guess Buster jumped up on the door to see where I was going ... and it closed. I couldn't get back in! I was looking through the back window when that pan of chicken on the stove caught fire, but I couldn't get in to do anything about it!" She looked down at a dog, sitting at her feet, which Misty hadn't noticed until then. "Bad dog, Buster!" she snapped.

"Calm down," said the man in the white fire helmet. "That's why they call these things accidents," he said.

"Calm down!?" The woman almost screeched. "I have guests! I can't take care of guests in a kitchen that's burned up! That singer girl - the one they got for the festival - She's supposed to stay here tonight! What am I going to do?"

"Most of the damage is limited to the kitchen," said the fire chief. "There's some smoke damage, but we got it out before it got into the sub-structure. You'll be back up and running in a few weeks, a month, tops. Just send your guests to one of the hotels in town. Your insurance will cover the costs."

"There aren't any rooms in town!" moaned the distraught woman. "Everything's full because of the festival. I was full because of the festival. This is terrible!"

Misty's heart sank as Bobby turned and saw her. She wasn't going to cry again. She wouldn't give him the pleasure!

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