The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Five

They were back in the truck, and Bobby seemed to be heading somewhere.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Misty.

"You have to sleep somewhere," he said. "My house is on the way to Wichita. We'll have to go back there to get you the kind of clothes you're looking for. There's an extra bed. At least you'll have somewhere to sleep tonight."

"If you think I'm going to your house, alone with you, you've got another think coming, buster!"

"I live with my mother," said Bobby, his voice tight. "You won't be alone with me. I have two sisters at home too, okay? What do you want me to do?"

"Couldn't you take me back to Amanda's?" whined the unhappy girl.

"If you want to sleep on a couch, instead of a bed, I guess that would be fine." He looked over at her. "She doesn't have any spare beds."

"How would you know that?" asked Misty.

"I know, okay? Now, what do you want me to do?"

"Wait a minute ..." Misty sounded thoughtful, suddenly. "You live with your mother?"

"I'm not married, and two of my sisters are still at home," Bobby said patiently. "So what?"

"But you're ... what ... twenty-five or something like that?"

"Twenty-six," he said, his voice tight. "So what?"

"Oh nothing," she said, her voice light. "It's just that the big strong man lives with his Mommy." She giggled. "That's so what. I can see why, though. No woman would have you!" She thought that was hilarious, and started laughing out loud.

Of all the digs she could have tried to use against him, that one was probably the worst possible choice. If Bobby Dalton knew anything, it was that he was attractive to women. Most women, anyway. What might have gotten under the skin of another man bounced off of Bobby like a thrown marshmallow. His face remained calm and he drove on. His reaction was so lacking, in fact, that Misty stopped laughing. He wasn't angry. In fact, he looked positively confident, driving along in the almost-dark of the evening. It was unnerving.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked again, calmly.

"Shit!" she snorted, putting her nervous energy into the epithet. "Nothing else has gone right. If there will really be somebody else there, then I guess that's better than sleeping in a haystack."

"You really should watch your mouth," said Bobby, looking straight ahead. "If you were one of my sisters I'd take you over my knee for talking like that."

"You and what army, mister?!"

He looked over at her. His face wasn't exactly grim, but the look she could barely see in his eyes made her want to scoot farther away from him. She was already pressed up against the door, though. She felt like her nerves were jangling and, as a distraction to both him and herself, she reached for the radio knob on the dashboard.

"Does the radio work in this thing?"

She was answered by the overly loud sound of music blaring, and turned the knob back down.

"Hey!" she chirped. "That's me!"

She turned the sound up a little, and started singing along with the radio.

"That's one of the first songs I ever recorded," she said, feeling suddenly much more comfortable. She remembered the recording session that had produced the album the song was on.

"Not bad," said the man driving the truck.

"Not bad?" She was incensed. "That album has sold over half a million copies!"

"I can see why," said Bobby. "I've never heard that song before, but it's not bad at all."

Misty was almost shocked. He went from threatening to spank her, to complimenting her, albeit in a less than satisfactory manner. She decided that this guy was the strangest man she'd ever met in her life. That seemed humorous to her, because some of her Uncles and cousins were exceedingly strange, as far as she was concerned.

Her confusion about Bobby only intensified when they pulled up to an old farm house. Part of her mind told Misty to complain about the fact that she had to stay in an old house somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but another part of her was a little homesick, and the glow of the yellow lights from the windows, and their promise of warmth on this chilly night took precedence in her mind. Mirriam's welcome was both warm and genuine. Misty liked her instantly.

Moreover, when two teenage girls came into the kitchen, where Misty was standing her night got a lot better.

"You're Misty Compton!" said one of the girls. "You're misty compton!" almost screamed the other, who looked identical.

Misty looked at the man who had brought her here ... who had caused her so much anger since she met him. He was rolling his eyes, but he was also smiling. His attention was on the girls, and not her, but that was blown away in an instant as she was somehow surrounded by two giggling and squealing fans. That they were fans was obvious. She heard the titles of four ... or was it six ... of her songs? It was hard to tell because the voices sounded the same, but they were saying different things at the same time.

"Hold your horses!" yelled Bobby.

To Misty's astonishment, the racket stopped abruptly, though the two girls were frowning now.

"She has to stay here tonight," said Bobby in his normal deep voice. "The bed and breakfast she was going to stay at caught on fire, so she's a guest here now. Please try to behave."

"She's staying here?!" gasped one of the girls.

"All night?!" yipped the other.

"Girls!" said Mirriam.

Then it started all over again, with the squealing, and suddenly Misty's arms were grasped by soft hands and she was pulled toward a doorway. She looked over her shoulder at Bobby and he shrugged and mouthed, "Sorry" to her.

They calmed down a bit as they dragged her to a room and proudly displayed it to her, telling her she could sleep there.

"Where's your suitcase?" asked one of the girls.

"It got lost," said Misty. She almost laughed at the moans and sympathy she got, but it was so much fun to be adored like this that she tried to maintain her role as a "star". By the time the two girls calmed down enough to carry on a decent conversation, Misty felt so good that all her anger had washed out of her.

"I'm Betty!" moaned one of the girls. "This is Matilda, my sister."

"You're sisters?!" said Misty, unable to keep the smile off her face now. "I'd never have known."

Matilda goggled at her and then made a funny snorting sound.

"You're teasing us!" she gasped. She turned to her sister. "Misty Compton is teasing us!" There was another set of twin squeals.

They were so honest in their appreciation of her that she couldn't keep up the false front of being a famous musician, who was above all this.

"Calm down!" she laughed. "I'm just a girl, like you. You're making way too much fuss about this."

"You are not just a girl!" said Betty, her face serious. "You're Misty Compton. You're the best, and you're right here in our house!"

"Okay," smiled Misty. "I sing songs, and you like them, and I'm very happy about that. But while I'm here, I want you to treat me just like any of your other friends, okay?"

"Ohhhhh," moaned Matilda. "Misty Compton wants to be our friend, Betty!"

It was Mirriam's arrival that managed to calm the girls to the point that they were no longer wringing their hands and gasping for breath. She had clothes in her arms.

"Bobby told me what happened to your things," she said. "This isn't much, but it will at least cover you and keep you warm. Bobby says he's taking you shopping in the morning. I think they'll fit all right, if you don't mind wearing hand-me-downs."

Misty was feeling so good by now that she simply reverted to being herself.

"I've worn hand-me-downs all my life," she said, smiling. "I had to wear my brother's clothes half the time."

"He said you'd eaten." Mirriam handed the armful of clothes to Misty. "Did you get enough? Would you like a little snack?"

"I'm fine," said Misty.

"Well, from what I hear you've just had a horrible day," said Mirriam. "If you want to get some sleep I'll drag my daughters out of here and leave you in peace."

There were moans of unhappiness, and Misty again tried to hide her smile.

Just then Bobby showed up in the open doorway, holding a little boy, about three. When Mirriam saw him she stamped her foot.

"What is he doing up? Bobby! It's way past his bedtime!"

"I didn't get him up," complained Bobby. "My sisters raised the roof and it woke him. He wants his Mamma."

That appeared to be true. When Bobby had first appeared, the little boy had been holding tightly to him, his arms around his neck. But when he saw Mirriam, he instantly let go and reached for her. Bobby put him down and he ran to Mirriam, who scooped him up and hugged him.

"It's okay, baby," she crooned to the little boy, whose eyes were wide and taking in everything. "It's just a little excitement. Nothing's wrong."

Misty watched her kiss the little boy's forehead, right beside a drooping lock of black hair that looked familiar, somehow. Then the little boy wiggled until Mirriam set him on his feet. He immediately trundled back to Bobby and held up his arms to the man. Once again, Misty watched as Bobby's face transformed and softened, as he picked up the little boy, who again hugged his neck tightly.

"You need to go back to bed, Sport," he said softly. All that did was cause the boy to look around again, obviously wide awake, and obviously interested in the disruption.

"Give him to me," said Mirriam, her voice gruff, but somehow falsely so. As she went to Bobby and took the wiggling boy, she looked over her shoulder. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'll be fine," said Misty. "You go on. I'm actually a little keyed up. I think I'll stay up for a while."

"Will you sing us a song?" asked the twins, together, as if they'd practiced it.

"Girls!" said Mirriam, warning in her voice.

"It's fine," said Misty. "I do need to get in a little practice today. Nothing else has gone right." She turned to the girls. "Would you like to listen to me?"

To Bobby's ears, it sounded almost like the twins were having orgasms.

Bobby, knowing he would have a long day the next day, went to bed. He left his door cracked, though, and listened to the distant strains of guitar strings, and the soft voice of the singer who would perform the next night in front of a crowd. She was a pain in the ass, but she could definitely sing.

He didn't expect Matilda and Betty would be visiting him that night. Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

He rose from sleep slowly, because he had been sleeping hard. If he'd have thought about it longer, he might not have been so surprised that two sighing naked girls were crawling into his bed in the dark. When they got excited about something, they got excited about Bobby too. As he came awake, and realized what was happening, he jerked.

"Are you crazy!?" he whispered.

"She's gone to bed," said Matilda. "We tried to go to bed too, but we can't sleep."

"We can't do this while she's in the house," he moaned. He felt a soft teenaged hand grope for and find his penis. He couldn't tell whose hand it was, but both of them were experts at manipulating him now, so it didn't really matter.

"We'll be quiet," said Betty, on his right, her lips so close to his ear that he shivered.

They were quiet too, straining under him and making only little huffing grunts as they came. Both of them were a little extra passionate, because of the excitement of meeting Misty. He took Betty first, and fingered Matilda while he plowed Betty's furrow and she gasped under him. Primed as she was, she came quickly. It was cramped, with both of them in bed with him, but the feel of their naked skin rubbing up against him was both warm and welcome. He'd had a bad day too, and there was nothing that could fix a bad day like a willing naked woman. He rode Matilda through two orgasms, not because he wanted her to have the second one, but because her clasping pussy felt so good around his prick.

"You can squirt in me," whispered Matilda, remembering her promise to her sister to even the score.

In Bobby's mind, what she was telling him was that they had finally found a way to get on the pill. Not once did it occur to him that both girls were still as completely unprotected as when he had first sampled their delights. He welcomed her offer, because it felt so good to be in her. As streams of thick spunk left his balls and splashed into her sucking pussy, he groaned softly.

"Mmmm, you're right," sighed the girl under him, her head turned toward her sister. "It does feel wonderful."

The comfort of sleeping in a good bed, in a home in which she felt welcome, was delightful. It felt a lot like what she thought home would have felt like if she hadn't had to grow up living in a trailer, which caused Misty to be in a good mood when she woke. Breakfast only made her feel better. That was a complicated mix of being adored, if not so openly, by the twins, and treated like one of the family by Mirriam. She ignored Bobby, other than watching him cut up waffles and bacon for Theodore. They seemed to be having a serious conversation about something, except that Misty couldn't understand a word the little boy said. Bobby, however, had no trouble with that. Again Misty was a little mystified at the different sides there seemed to be to this Bobby person.

That he whisked her away from the comfortable house, she expected. She was determined to make this day more pleasant than the last.

"So ... clothes shopping?" she asked, as he drove her away in the same rusty old pickup truck.

"Eventually," he said. "Amanda wanted me to get some pictures made of you, for autographs."

"But I don't have clothes to take a picture like that in!" moaned Misty.

"Personally, I think you look pretty good," he said, glancing at the clothes Mirriam had loaned her. "When Bev wore that she always stretched out the front too much. It's about perfect for you."

Misty looked down at the chocolate brown shirt she was wearing. It was made of something very soft and supple. It had felt good sliding onto her body. The jeans were a good fit too, and were faded and soft as well. She looked at her breasts, which pushed the shirt out.

"Are you saying I'm flat?" She actually was only teasing him a little, even though she put a growl in her voice.

"No, I'm not! Okay?" His voice was serious. "Can't we at least try to get along today?"

"I was just kidding!" she said, feeling a surge of anger. She forced it back. "I know I'm not flat. This sister of yours must be huge if she stretched this thing. How many sisters do you have, anyway?"

"Seven." His voice was calm, and he looked straight ahead.

"No wonder," said Misty, smiling.

"No wonder what?"

"No wonder you're so impossible," she said, without rancor in her voice. "No brothers?"

"Nope." He frowned. "Well there is Theodore, but he's only three."

"Well, if you've survived seven sisters, and any of the rest of them are like Matilda and Betty, I can understand why you're a little odd."

"I'm not odd," he said, glancing over at her. "And I love my sisters, thank you very much."

"I'm trying to get along with you, you dope!" she barked.

He drove on in silence for half a minute.

"Thanks," he said finally. "I'll try to get along too."

"Thank you," she said.

"I'm sorry about the twins," he said.

"What for?"

"For mobbing you last night. I've never seen them act like that before."

"Oh that," she tossed off carelessly. "I'm used to that. They were sweet."

"I didn't even know they had your record," he said. "I've been kind of busy lately. I need to spend more time at home."

The tone of his voice caught Misty's attention. Most men didn't live at home, when they were his age. And if they did, it wasn't because they wanted to. To hear the honest desire in his voice to spend more time with family was something she could identify with. She'd been on the road for three months now, and she missed her mother. It was then that she realized that she still lived with her mother too.

"I live with my mom too," she said softly.


"Yeah, I bought her a house in Nashville."

"Don't you mean you bought a house in Nashville, and you let her live there?"

She jerked a look at him, but he wasn't being mean.

"I've always lived with her. My brother went over to Natchez and got a job, and since then it's just been her and me. She deserved better than a falling down old trailer."

"I wish I could buy Mamma a new house," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with that one," said Misty. "It was a wonderful place to stay." She blinked. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He looked over at her. "If you really feel that way, and don't mind, it would be one more thing we don't have to worry about ... I mean if you don't mind staying there for the rest of the time you're here."

"I'd love to," she said, meaning it. "And you're right. We have to get clothes, and I didn't know about the pictures, and I have to rehearse. I don't know how I'll get it all done."

"I have an idea about the clothes," he said. "At least for tonight. Amanda said she's going to call the airlines and raise hell about your suitcase. If we're lucky you'll get it back sometime today."

"What's your idea?" she asked, warily.

"I know a woman who has some fancy western clothes," said Bobby. "I'm pretty sure she only wore them once. She's about your size ... maybe a little taller, but the rest of her is about the same." He glanced at Misty and, for the first time, his eyes dropped to her breasts.

She saw that, and suddenly felt more normal, because a man was looking at her body.

"And if what she has is suitable for tonight, it would save us a trip to Wichita," he added.

"We'll see," she said. "No promises."

"Of course not."

"Maybe we should go see her first." said Misty. "Before the pictures, I mean."

"Okay," he said. "But I'm telling you, you look good just the way you are."

"Not for pictures like this," she said.

"As far as I'm concerned," he said, glancing at her one more time, "you could perform in that. People around these parts would think you were just like them."

"I am just like them," she said, her voice a little miffed.

She wasn't sure whether it was good ... or bad ... when he made no further comment.

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