The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton
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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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
"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.
"For mobbing you last night. I've never seen them act like
"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
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
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