Page 24

Owen laughed and then nodded. “I know so.”

Attention would be good. It would feed my ego. I was mostly interested in the attention from Joel and Tristen. And maybe Richard. All of that spanking he was doing to Hayden made me hard as stone each time I thought about it.

Owen went off to get a massage of his own after lunch while I had an appointment to sketch a guy named Mason. He was the bottom of a threesome, and I was instantly intrigued by him. He wanted me to sketch him peering into the pool area while jacking off by the trees near the pool entrance. He said he planned to give the sketch to his “dirty daddies.” He used that reference multiple times to describe his two partners. I used a mixture of green colors for the trees and plant life where he was peering from in the sketch.

As soon as I was done with Mason’s sketch, he asked if I wanted to get a drink with him by the pool. I took him up on the offer because he was my last appointment for the day, and I was ready to relax. I was totally on board with sitting at a table by the pool and watching all the action happen.

“How long have you been coming to Joel’s parties?” I asked Mason once our drink orders were taken.

“Maybe six or seven years. My dirty daddies would know exactly. We live in San Diego, and that’s where we attended our first party.”

“Are those parties similar or do they differ?”

“For the most part, they’re the same. The difference is the weather. The San Diego resort is right on a beach, and the weather is perfect year round. They do some parties in the winter here, but there’s less activity out here at the pools. The pools are heated, but the air is so cold.”

“Yeah, I imagine it gets really cold up here,” I commented as our drinks were set on the table in front of us. “Thank you,” I said to the server.

“Where are you originally from?” Mason asked after he’d taken a long sip of the frozen fruit concoction he ordered.

The question was harmless enough, but it brought my family back into my thoughts. Along with it came the feeling of doubt and traces of what I commonly heard and saw on social media as imposter syndrome.

“I’m from Indiana.” Saying it out loud riddled me with guilt. I basically had tossed my family out the window when I opted not to return to law school. Though, my dad cut me off financially. But did that mean he didn’t care, or just that he was pissed he’d lost control of me?

“Fuck. There’s actual winter back there,” he said and mocked shivering. I felt as though the food I’d just eaten was floating around in battery acid.

“Yeah, brutal winters.” I was eager to move off the thoughts of home … if I could even call it that anymore. “I came out west to go to UCLA and end up with a job here.”

“No shit?”

“For real.” Yeah, and pissed my family off which started the unraveling of our relationship.

“Nice. I’m originally from Santa Cruz, California. And my dirty daddies are also from California. My family still lives close to Santa Cruz.”

“That’s cool. Do you see them often?” I asked, wondering if people at this party were close to their families or had written them off. I glanced around at the people out by the pool. Could any of these people look their families in the eyes? Was I starting to blow this out of proportion? It was just sex. Okay, it was some wild and albeit taboo and outside of the box sex, but still, it was just sex.

And sex sells. I was able to find actual people interested in the sexy sketches. That was money for me that I'd earned on my own talent. I might not be a successful lawyer, but I did have artistic abilities … though none that my parents would recognize.

“Yeah, we meet my parents each Saturday afternoon at a farmers market in Capitola and then have dinner together.”

“Both of your dirty daddies go too?” I asked, making sure I understood his use of “we.”

“Yeah, my mom loves them.”

“Your parents know the three of you are a thing?” The questions kept tumbling out without a filter.

“Oh yeah, definitely. They were unsure about it at first, but it helped that the three of us continued to spend time with them each week. So they’ve gotten used to it.”

I didn’t know why, and maybe it was part of my Bible Belt upbringing, but I was a bit surprised that he was able to take his dirty daddies, as he called them, to hang out with his parents. People in California were so laid back and open minded for the most part. I was getting the feeling that there was a strong presence of people from California at the parties.

While my lunch continued to float in the acid of my stomach, I began to wonder if I’d ever be able to tell my family what kind of sketches I was doing for money. I’d never be able to show them the type of work that was making me money. I could just imagine my dad telling me that what I was drawing was sinful and that I wasn’t raised like that and how what I was using my talents for was a waste and how it didn’t align with the family and firm’s beliefs and core values.

Fuck.

What was I doing in life? How long could I continue to draw dicks and men voyeuristically watching other men doing “sinful” things. Were my sketches even good? All of the confidence that I had hours ago had faded. Sure, these parties were great for the weekends, but what would happen when Monday arrived?

I thought I’d been inching closer to realizing who I was without having my overbearing parents looming over me. But now that vision is a bit clouded again. After listening to Mason talk about hanging out with his parents and dirty daddies weekly, it made me realize that no stars in the world would ever align to where I could take Joel and Tristen to meet my family.

Joel and Tristen? In my mind I laughed hysterically at the thought of those two guys ever wanting anything to do with me. I mean, they were practically gods here. They were so put together and successful and clearly didn’t give a fuck what people thought.