Page 54 of King of Hollywood
Perhaps he’d take charge like he had at the fair and with Barry? Perhaps he’d push me onto my back, straddle my hips—and with no complaints from me whatsoever—slide himself down onto my cock. Would he get violent with me?
The thought made me shiver.
Would he bite and choke—would he attempt to kill me as he had his other paramours?
The beast inside me paced in circles.
He was a twisted, hungry thing. Desperate for praise and touch. Frothing at the mouth the moment Felix came to mind.
Locked away, I hadn’t even known such a creature existed inside my psyche before, but I became achingly familiar with him as my days, my nights, my weekends spent mowing Felix’s lawn—were filled with thoughts of fucking him.
I masturbated a lot more over those few weeks than I had in all my life.
When I was doing laundry, I thought about having Felix over the dryer.
When I was doing dishes, I thought about having him over the sink.
When I was mowing his lawn, I thought about having him on his front porch, bent over, trousers pushed down his legs, his desperate needy cries echoing through the air as I fucked him till he cried.
When I wasn’t thinking about sitting Felix on my cock, dodging Winnie’s well-meaning but annoying questions, and ignoring Harold’s teasing…I went on dates.
Felix was a hard man to pin down. I couldn’t get him to text me back for the life of me. Our dates were spread out—and always, unfortunately, happened after I’d seen men and women alike over at his place. I knew I was one of many suitors, but I was determined to be the only one who crossed the finish line so to speak.
If I had to bludgeon every last one of them to make that happen—so be it.
Though my time with Felix was infrequent, each date was more perfect than the last.
One warm, sticky summer night a few weeks after the carnival, I went over to Felix’s home. It was a redo of the night we should’ve had, and I was excited to say the least. Armed with my new knowledge and confidence, I couldn’t wait to spend the night with him. Felix had opened the door wearing his ridiculous disguise again, but—before I even had to prompt—he took his hat off and hung it on the hook by the door.
“No hat, right?” He smiled.
My heart fluttered.
Dolly and Tiffany glared at me the entire time I prepared dinner, their beady little eyes following my movements. Felix helped me set the table, a polite little gentleman—because of course he was.
Felix and I sat in the formal dining room, surrounded by his clutter. At one point, when I tripped over a stray dusty radio and nearly brained myself—I’d had enough.
“I’m cleaning your house,” I declared. Felix stared at me from across the room where he’d been setting the plates in their places.
“You are?” He blinked.
“I am.”
A flush spread across his face, and rather than get offended, a happy, fizzy smile escaped. “Thank you, Marshall.”
It was clear that Felix was trying. Every space in the house that was clean—was also full of his crocheted wisteria—but it was obvious that there was too much junk for one person to be able to fully manage.
Clearly he liked vintage things, judging by his clothing and his hoarding. But it seemed he’d slowly begun to siphon them out. Almost like…he didn’t need to cling to the past anymore.
Perhaps one day I could convince him to learn how to text.
“Do you really need all this stuff?” I asked, sweaty, a lock of hair slipping into my eyes. I was lucky I hadn’t fallen. I probably would’ve crushed the reading glasses in my pocket.
“I thought I did,” Felix answered honestly, eyes trembling and far away like they often were. “But…” he glanced around the room, at all the lost, old things—then his gaze met mine and all I felt was warm, warm, warm. “I don’t anymore.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I said simply, even though my heart was pounding.
“Out with the old, in with the new—” Felix added, lips tipping up.