Page 6 of Soldier Daddy’s Naughty Little

I mean, what could have been so bad that we could not work out? But until this unsettling train of thoughts have substantial reason to quieten down, I would have a hard time feeling good about anything or being able to concentrate.

Nothing even seemed to excite me anymore– not baseball, not working out, not running; nothing.

It got even weirder when I noticed she was leaving the office immediately working hours were over so she would not have to ride with me back home. The other day when I popped by before lunch break and tried to hug her, there was this stiffness about her, like a defiant, resistant wall, specially designed to keep me out.

At that point I knew something was horribly, terribly wrong. Coupled with the late replies to my chats and messages, which had now morphed into her not replying or taking my calls at all, I believed I had more than enough reason to conclude that something was off.

As I stood at the door to her office cubicle that Wednesday evening, crafting a text to ask her why she left so early, a call from one of my guys at the Marines, Jake, came in.

“Oscar, my man! How’s yo fuzzy head doing?” came Jake’s jaunty voice booming out of the speaker.

“Outstanding, mate! Still at Okinawa, eating 'em taco rice and cheese?”

He burst into laughter, his voice gruff and grating. “No, we left weeks back. I do miss 'em taco rice and cheese though. But more importantly, we miss you.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Aw, aren’t you being even cheesier than a shower shoe?”

“No, no, serious man. Rudiger, Kyle, Hank and the rest of the squad are here in New York. We should totally meet up for a boys night out or something. Let me wipe that grin off your CEO face!”

“Wow, really? You guys are here in the Big Apple?”

We went on to make plans for the night while I considered which would be more appropriate: me going out with the boys on office wear like this– no they would probably tease me to death. I opted to go home and get changed.

With that I left her cubicle but she did not leave my mind. Interwoven in my anticipation of the night, was Vanessa popping in and out and I struggled to keep thoughts of her at bay. I could not have anything dampen my mood this evening. Not when I’m with the boys.

I took a bath immediately I got home, changing into black denim pants, a plain grey tee shirt, a studded leather jacket and a pair of combat boots. They said we were just meeting up for drinks but as I followed the directions they sent I found myself in front of a strip club.

I blame myself for believing Jake when he said just drinks. As if with him, it’s ever just drinks.

I soon spotted them at a table in front under a rotating silver disco ball. The blue and pink strobe lights were in their hollering faces more than half the time and some girl was twerking on their table.

I quietly slipped in beside them, or so I thought. Hank’s hair, even though cropped close, still had that spiky texture that earned him the name, Pinhead, while we were still at camp. Rudiger was a lanky man whose punch packed a lot more power than one would expect, always the first to rush forward in an attack. Jake, Su, Reynolds…the gang, they were all here and somehow, I thought I could slip in quietly?

They erupted into a loud cheer, shaking me and smacking my back. The noise probably startled the girl who got off the table quickly and left.

The guys ordered another round of chilled beers and they hooted at and cheered the women, spraying them dollar bills. Jake preferred to tuck cash in the waistbands of the ladies' thongs, bring the sly pervert he was.

It was a bit weird for me because even with the bevy of hot chicks in the room, I was not even in the very least aroused. I was enjoying the company of my guys but pretty much disengaged from the happenings in the club.

The one lady that should have caught my eye did not, because another green-eyed blonde had occupied every inch of my mind.

At the third round of drinks, I was still sipping my first beer. Jake poked me in the ribs.

“You Sissy. Don’t tell me you’re still on your fucking first bottle!” He shook his head at me incredulously and turned to the others, two of which had six already. He shouted, “Hey, y’all! New York has sissified this mofo! He’s still on his first beer!

That earned me teases and jibes which I bore laughing. “Wait, wait, y’all should actually calm the fuck down. It’s a work night! I can’t be all chugged up on a work night!”

Then came the mock-pity aww-ing and ah-ing and even more teases. I just looked around, slightly bored because none of the women even came close to my Little. Her body was hit as fuck and mere thoughts of her immediately got me very hard– something none of these unarguably hot, scantily-clad ladies could do all night.

For some reason, I found myself texting her again, even though she did not reply my previous three texts. There was no point not trying to reach out to her when she has been the only thing on mind all day and now, all night.

I was not expecting a response but something in me just hoped, for hope’s sake that the vibration I felt my phone give me had something to do with Vanessa reaching out to me at least.

I whipped out my phone, turned out it was ringing and it was Vanessa calling. The call dropped before I could answer and that was when I saw I had already missed two of her calls.

Immediately, I called her back and it took her quite a while to pick up. When she eventually did though, she sounded very cross.

“I’d been trying to call you all night. Guess you are pretty busy.”