Memphis

Security is a bitch. The line is a mile long with slow as shit people. I swear old people fuck faster than some of these idiots move. You’d think some of these asshats have never flown before.

It’s a good thing I had Rhett drop me off at the airport, and it happened I was three hours early. He was begging to get out of the house. I’m sure Darby isn’t the easiest person to live with and same goes for Rhett. It’s a wonder they haven’t killed each other yet. I brought up the subject once and was schooled on their angry fuck sessions. I never broached the topic again.

My gaze lands on the sweet, little ass walking in front of me. It’s framed with short, short jean shorts with frayed ends cupping the globes of that edible ass. Long, lean, and tan legs accompany the perfect ass along with silky, bouncing blonde curls. When the object of my growing erection turns around, I’m struck dumb as shit.

I can’t remember the last time I tangled up in the sheets with a girl my age or younger. I’ve been the damn cougar tamer over the last two years. I can't complain much because I’m almost there. My savings account is bulging and healthy, which will gives me the opportunity to travel the world and never look back. I’ve failed a lot in my life, but I don’t want to get stranded across the globe penniless. So, I’ve made damn sure to have plenty of money courtesy of my dick, active sex drive, and a few pills here and there. Those old women have vigorous sexual appetites.

Most of them have had plastic surgery on their pussies, fooling my joystick into thinking I’m pounding a virgin. It makes my job simple, like taking candy from a baby.

“Hey.” I bend over and pick up the twenty-dollar bill the blonde bombshell dropped. “Excuse me.”

She must have been digging through her purse because more shit tumbles to the floor. In slow motion, she bends over, not bending at the knees, to pick up a tube of lipstick and her cell phone. I’m struck dumb, staring and fighting to keep my chin off the airport tile floor and not cumming right on the spot. My hands would look like a masterpiece spreading her ass cheeks apart then sinking into her dripping wet pussy. Oh, yes, she’d be wet as hell for me. It’s my profession, and I’m the boss and specialist in the area of making girls drip with want and need. They don’t call me Dr. Love for nothing.

I shake my head, chuckling to myself at the stage name that’s now my brand and brings the bread and butter to the table. I scrub my face trying to wipe away the ridiculous thoughts of fucking a random stranger in the airport. I need to get this gig out of the way and set out on my world travels.

She lets out a rush of air, pops up, and then whirls around to face me. She’s a Goddamn real-life Barbie, fake titties and all. The kind that are fun to play with and become your favorite toys. All efforts of changing my thought process fly out the window.

“Thank you.” She clutches her chest.

“Welcome, darlin’.” The words come out husky.

I watch her melt into a puddle of sex right in front of me, so I add an eyebrow raise Dr. Love style. I could sweep her off to the nearest family bathroom and be balls deep in a matter of seconds. The fact is I’m on a business trip. The reality of my life is it’s always about business even though most would think this is all fun and games.

“Thank you again.” She steps in closer to me, her powerful floral scent threatening to knock me out.

“No problem.” I stride right past her, missing the sight of her perfectly sculpted body.

I’m not a pig and I treat women with respect, but also enjoy all of them from head to toe. I never waste a chance to praise the beauty God created, but it’s all business.

Iris was my first after-hour client and has become my VIP client. The woman likes her dick and me. Sometimes I get worried she has created a vision that there’s something more between us. I brush that shit off and move on. This will be the third cruise she’s taken me on.

The first one was right after our first night together and the second one last year. The two-week vacations were jam packed with sunshine, Iris’s friends, and my overused dick. Just the way she likes it. One day the old bitches are going to break my cock. She’s bringing her friends along to be entertained, but makes it clear to them that she’s the boss. Nobody oversteps the law Iris lays down. Shit don’t get to me. It’s static in the background because money is money.

I’m relieved Iris sent me a few days early to spend some time in Puerto Rico at the hotel near where the ship will take off. It’s little bonuses like this that keep me wrapped around her little finger.

I find a seat and plop down in it then plug in my phone after digging through my black Hurley backpack. I sink back in the chair, spreading my legs wide, kicking out my black Chucks and adjusting my snapback backward on my head. Looking around, I’m the least tourist looking person at the terminal. No floral print, fedora, or flip-flops here. My typical laid back Sunday at the house.

“Boarding flight five twenty-four, nonstop to San Juan, Puerto Rico. First class passengers may begin the boarding process.”

First class is another bonus courtesy of my dick and fine tuned sex skills. She treats me like a king. There’s a Jack and Coke on my tray table before the entire flight has the chance to board. I down it in one long swallow, feeling the effects of the Jack making all of my apprehension disappear. My stress eases along with the internal war over ethics.

The free drinks keep coming once the big bird is up in the air.