The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton
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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
"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
"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
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.
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
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
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
"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
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
That led to the sharing of stories of both complaint and victory over
"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."
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
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
"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
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
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?"
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
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
"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
"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
"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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