Maybe this party won’t be a complete waste of time after all.

She’s beautiful.

The lighting’s poor, but I like what I see. A tight, blue dress clings to her curvy body, her chest packed together and bursting at the seams. Long, wavy dark hair flows down her back, drawing my eyes towards a round ass that immediately has my cock twitching in my pants.

I didn’t want to be here tonight. Grady insisted I show up to impress Sandra, but she’s not here yet. I’d been about to leave when I walked out of the bathroom to find this perfect specimen waiting for me.

I haven’t played the dom in a while—too long—but it all comes back to me quickly.

“Come here,” I command. There’s a touch more hesitation from her than I expect. The women here are experts at being subservient. Invitations are hard to come by, and the women who get selected are as subservient and beautiful as you get in Los Angeles.

The girl’s hesitation passes; she throws her coat down on the bed, and walks towards me, stopping a few feet away. Her golden mask suits her. I like the mask vibe; women can’t get attached to me if they don’t know who I am. I guess it works the other way around as well, although I can’t say that’s ever been a problem.

“Closer.” She moves up until our bodies are almost touching. “Good girl.”

She flinches slightly but doesn’t step away. Is it possible she’s new at this? They don’t usually invite newcomers. Time for a test.

“Take off your panties.” She gasps and steps back a foot, making no effort to remove her underwear. She’s a newbie; inexperienced and out of her depth. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I expect her to grab her coat and run out the door, but instead, she stands there and looks me in the eye. That’s another broken rule; she shouldn’t look me in the eyes without permission.

“Turn around,” I command. This time she does as she’s told. I admire her ass, and step up close, letting my semi erect cock press gently against her cheeks. “You appear to be new at this. Red means stop, orange means slow down. Nod if you understand.”

She nods. I finger the straps of her dress, and pull her into me, before tugging the straps down her shoulders and arms, until her breasts are completely exposed. My hands grab her generous chest and play with her nipples while she remains obediently still. Quick learner.

Or so I thought.

A man and a woman come into the room and it’s clear they aren’t here to collect their coats. He was fingering her on the sofa a few minutes ago, and now he’s decided he wants more.

When my girl sees them she gets embarrassed and tries to pull up her dress. I grab her wrists and stop her.

“We’re going to watch,” I whisper in her ear. The couple doesn’t care about us as they quickly move the coats to one side and the man sits on the edge of the bed. The woman bends over his lap and pulls up her skirt. Someone’s about to get punished.

“She’s misbehaved,” I whisper. “Do you want to see what happens to girls who misbehave?”

She nods and stops trying to cover herself up. I squeeze her breasts as we watch the man expertly spank his woman and punish her for not bringing him the correct drink.

My girl rubs her ass into my cock. Her enthusiasm takes me by surprise, and I let her do it for a few seconds before admonishing her.

“Did I tell you to get yourself off?” I ask.

“No,” she replies.

“No, sir,” I correct.

“No, sir.”

I slide my hands down to her waist and tug up her skirt until her panties are exposed. My fingers caress the soft cotton and head straight to a damp patch between her legs. She whimpers as I feel my way around her folds over the top of her panties.

“You like watching her get punished,” I whisper. “Maybe he’ll fuck her soon. Would you like that?”

She nods and pushes her sex against my fingers. She really shouldn’t do that, but I’m out of practice. Instead of punishing her, I slip my fingers under the cotton and slide straight inside her. She’s slick with excitement but tight as hell, and my cock immediately hardens as I think about doing a bit of fucking of my own.

I curl two fingers inside her and let my palm rub against her clit as we watch the woman practice her deep throat technique. I don’t care about that other couple, but my girl can’t stop looking. She flinches away occasionally, as if remembering that it’s not right to watch people doing that, but then looks back the second she hears a slurping noise or groan.

My girl grabs my spare hand and places it on her breast, encouraging me to play with her hard, erect nipples.

She’s gone too far.

“You don’t control this,” I say sternly. “Now I’m going to punish you by not letting you come.”

I pull my fingers out of her tight pussy and suck one of them greedily. She tastes phenomenal—sweet and juicy. I can’t wait to get between her legs.

I hold the other wet finger out in front of her. “Suck it clean.”

She obeys, her hot mouth clamping onto my finger and pulling it into her as she tastes her own essence. Her ass rubs against my cock again, which is now rock hard and straining to be set free. I’m about to order her into another room when she suddenly pulls down her skirt and pulls the straps up on her dress.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I have to leave.”

She practically flies out the door, hesitating only to pick her coat up off the pile.

Fuck. There goes my evening’s entertainment.

I’ve never been good at sneaking in. I make it as far as the kitchen when I hear my sister stirring in the living room.

“Did I wake you?” I ask Marie, as she comes in and grabs the glass of water from my hand.

“No, I was reading a book. I’m surprised you’re back so early.”

“It’s gone midnight.”

“I figured the fun wouldn’t start until the early hours of the morning when everyone’s wasted.”

“It’s not about getting wasted,” I reply, pouring myself another glass of water. “If you have to be wasted to have fun at these things then you probably shouldn’t be there.”

“Whatever. I’m not an expert on these ‘alternative lifestyle’ parties like you are. Give me a glass of wine and a normal date in front of the television any day.”

God, that sounds boring. I may not have gone to many ‘alternative lifestyle parties’ lately, but I haven’t become a total bore overnight. Not that I’m about to encourage my sister to get involved. It’s nice not having to worry that she might be under one of the masks. That could get awkward, fast.

“You want anything to eat?” I ask.

“It’s late.”

“Yeah, but I have a craving for a fried egg sandwich.”

“That does sound good. But make mine with brown bread. I want to at least pretend I’m being healthy.”

“Suit yourself.” I grab some eggs and a loaf of bread and cut off some thick slices.

“Please tell me you’ve washed your hands,” Marie says. “I dread to think where they’ve been.”

“They’re clean,” I reply. I wish they weren’t. I kept the mystery girl’s scent on them for as long as possible, but eventually, nature called, and you know, hygiene and all that crap.

I shove the bread in the toaster and start frying the eggs. I don’t have many talents in the kitchen, but if there’s one thing I can do perfectly it’s fry an egg. Without fail, I cook the whites through and leave the yolk runny, waiting to get soaked up into the bread. It’s a talent that often goes unappreciated.

“Are you going to stay the night?” I ask.

“You just want me to look after Olivia in the morning.”

“No, I’m asking because it’s late and you look tired. I have tomorrow off and I’m spending every minute of it with Olivia.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your comment about me looking tired. Anyway, it’s not that late, so I’ll head home. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy waking up in other people’s beds.”

“Remind me how you met Michael again?”

“Very funny. If you want free babysitting services then I suggest you focus on frying those eggs.”

Speaking of which, the crackling from the pan suggests they’re about done. I slide the eggs onto the lightly toasted bread and press down, savoring the moment the yolk breaks and soaks into the bread. Almost as good as sex.

“I’m going to hire a new babysitter soon,” I say. “I’ll write up a new ad in the morning.”

“Can’t you go back to the same agency and get a new one? At least you know all their employees have undergone background checks.”

“That didn’t help much with the last one. Anyway, they don’t want to work with me anymore.”

“Christ, Parker, what did you do to the last girl?”

“Nothing,” I reply firmly. Marie looks at me doubtfully. “I didn’t, I swear. She was the one who broke the rules.”

“I know all about your rules. What did she do? Refuse to call you daddy when you spanked her?”

“Okay, one, that is not how it works. Two, not those kind of rules. I told her not to go in my private room and she did.”

“Maybe she went in there by accident,” Marie replies.

“It’s locked. The key was hidden in my bedroom, so she must have snooped around to find it. I would have fired her if she hadn’t quit.”

“What the hell is in that room, Parker? Actually, don’t answer that question. Just try not to frighten the next one.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And get a full-time babysitter. You’re too busy for a part-time one.”

“I don’t want to neglect my daughter.”

“You’re not neglecting her. You’re just a busy man with a lot on his plate. There’s no shame in needing help.”

“I’ll think about it,” I reply, as I pass Marie her sandwich. “How was Olivia tonight? Did she give you any grief?”

“She was an angel, as always. Except for the part where she made me play with those Avengers dolls.”

“Justice League.”

“Whatever. She’s always Wonder Woman, and Wonder Woman always wins.”

“I always liked Wonder Woman as a kid, come to think of it. I wonder why?”

“She’s a hot woman who carries around a whip,” Marie replies. “It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection.”

“It’s not a whip, it’s a lasso.”

“Were there many ‘lasso’ wielding women at your party tonight?”

“No, unfortunately not.”

“So you didn’t meet anyone?”

I hesitate briefly before answering. “No, not really.” I didn’t even get her name, and judging by the way she ran out of the party, I don’t think our paths are going to cross again.

“In that case, you should come to the party Michael and I are hosting in a few weeks. I’d rather you met a woman there than at one of your parties, for Olivia’s sake, if nothing else.”

“Maybe,” I reply. In three years of being a single father, I’ve never once gone out looking for a woman who would make a good mother to Olivia. My brain doesn’t work that way when I’m with women, so instead I stick to casual encounters and do my best to raise Olivia by myself.

I’m managing—barely. With babysitters and Marie’s help, Olivia doesn’t want for attention. Things won’t get any easier in the next few months, mind you. Buyers are sniffing around my company and that makes it hard to leave the office on time. Marie’s right. I need to bite the bullet and hire a full-time babysitter. Maybe even one who will live here if things work out.

I’ve been a single dad since Olivia was born just over three years ago, but that doesn’t mean I have to do everything myself. It’s time to get some help.

“I want cereal, Daddy,” Olivia asks, as I put a bowl of cereal in front of her.

“This is cereal.”

“No, cereal. The other cereal.”

We don’t have the other cereal because I haven’t been shopping in over a week. I’m just grateful that Marie brought milk over with her last night, or things would really be kicking off.

“This is better than the other cereal,” I insist. “This is special cereal for grown-ups.”

“For grown-ups?” Olivia asks suspiciously.

If there’s one way to get Olivia to do something, it’s to make her think it’s the adult thing to do. She’d be coming to work with me if she had her way.

“Yes, for grown-ups. You shouldn’t really be allowed to eat it, but you’ve been so good that I’m going to let you have some.”

“If it’s for grown-ups, why aren’t you having any?”

Because it tastes like cardboard. “Because it’s only for women. Men aren’t allowed to eat it.”

Olivia brings the bowl closer to her, protecting it from me, as she starts spooning it into her mouth. Half of it into her mouth anyway. A decent amount of milk and cereal ends up on the table and down her clothes, but she carries on as if that’s completely normal, which I suppose it is for her.

“Do you want to go play on the swings later, sweetie?” I ask.

“With Marc?”

“Maybe,” I reply. “I’m not sure if he’ll be there today, but I can ask his dad.”

“Okay then. But first I want to watch Octonauts.”

I’m okay with that for an hour. While Olivia’s watching her television shows, I can write a job advert for a babysitter. It should be easy to find someone willing to look after Olivia. She’s an angel, and I’m not just saying that as her father. Well, maybe a bit, but she’s hardly a nightmare to look after.

Olivia isn’t the reason it’s so hard to find babysitters. Neither is the room. The real reason I can’t find willing sitters is because of me. Specifically, what happened three years ago. I can’t blame young women for being suspicious, given the circumstances.

After all, who wants to work for a man who murdered his wife?