Chapter 3

1.9K 44 5
                                    

*this ladies and gents and whatever else is where we will find out who this guy is. buckle up*


     My last customer stood up and towered over me. "Excuse the fuck outta you young lady, but I am the one who's money is going into your check every week, I WAS the person who wanted to give you a tip despite your rotten attitude, and I am the sole owner of every Starbucks in the city." My jaw was scraping the floor I walked on. "That's what I thought. Your money is on my table. Next time I'm here I expect better service from you Charli." Then he walked out.

           "Hey," Dean called from the back, "If you want, I'll give you a ride home."

"Ok." I shouted from the front. I went to Mr. Boss Man's table to collect his money and I saw his business card.

                                          Jackson Michaels

                                   Businessman, Investment Banker, and Entrepreneur

I saw something written on the back, so I flipped it over. I am what I eat  and he left his phone number. I laughed out loud when I remembered what he was referring to.

"What'd I miss?" says Dean. heading out the door. I handed him the business card, and I heard him gasp.

"What is it? You didn't even flip the card over."

"There's no need to, the name Jackson Michaels is enough to blow me away." I cocked my head to the side waiting for an explanation. "Ugh!" groaned in frustration. "You must live under a rock. The door is unlocked get in." I did so, and played music from my phone.

"Anyways," he continued. "Jackson Michaels is among the richest people on this side of the country. Besides that, every few months he's on the cover of ever supermarket tabloid. Why, you may ask? Because every few months, he's got another girl on his shoulder. And it looks like you're next."

"Oh so what, am I supposed to just fall in line with all the other whores? Fuck around here or there, get a few nice things, give me more money than I've ever seen, and then toss me to the side like an old used dish rag? I thinketh the fuck not!" I shout slouching into my seat. Sooner or later, we pulled up to my house, and I was still a little annoyed that Dean expected me to fall into the guy's arms.

        Tossing my belongings somewhere into the living room, I decided to let off a little steam. Music and tumblr always help. I went into my room to change into something more comfortable.

Heading back to the living room, I grabbed my elmo stuffie I've kept since I was 6 years old

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Heading back to the living room, I grabbed my elmo stuffie I've kept since I was 6 years old. I see the normal stuff at first. Adorable gay and lesbian couples, something protesting whatever Trump did, some new term I didn't understand, but then I come across a ddlg/cgl blog. Curiosity got the best of me, and I was scrolling through I see some of the weirdest things I've ever seen. There are grown men and women in diapers, in baby clothes, cribs, and playing on the floor like babies. Along with a few gifs that were beyond kinky. There were memes, and lists of rules, and screenshots of messages. Most of which were all pink and glittery, and covered in unicorns, and other gross girly stuff.

     I put the phone down on the screen side on the couch. Taking a deep breath I go through this blog again, and try to find more information. After a few more hours, I've come to the conclusion that being cared for as a child wouldn't be so bad, except for all that girly stuff. If I can find  a 'daddy' who'd be ok with that, maybe I'll give this thing a try.

BratWhere stories live. Discover now