Chapter 39

Arriving back at the shop, you pushed open the door to find a new figure already waiting impatiently. Dressed in a long, expensive-looking coat he was ringing the little bell upon the counter repeatedly, peering down the passageway behind for any sign of some service. You stepped inside quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but unsure how to proceed… There was always a chance that the stranger was actually someone interested in renting a lawnmower or having a drill repaired. The cut of his clothes already told you he wasn’t from anywhere around here. Which meant the sight of what appeared to be a high-school cheerleader absolutely drenched in slowly-drying cum might earn a whole host of awkward questions.

Swarmed by indecision… you crept toward the stairs up toward the apartment. Perhaps you could rush straight up them and send either Skeg or Nancy down while you took a moment to change and wash your face. The problem being that there was no way to get there without also getting closer and closer to the man himself. He was tall and slender, with smartly-cut brown hair. You still couldn’t see his face, but were beginning to suspect it might be quite handsome. Some hidden part of you was beginning to hope he was here for the normal reason…

In the very instant that thought was passing through your mind, he did turn around... and the bottom fell out of your entire universe! Objectively… the face was sort of handsome, in a middle-aged sort of way… but it was also one you recognised. One you feared the judgement of more than any other, and never thought you’d see again. Especially not while dressed and dirtied as you currently were. For there… looking down at you with a growing look of mild disgust… was your own step-father. His piercing eyes pinned you to the spot and seemed to dissect every whorish detail of your current outlook. For a moment… you thought you saw a flash of recognition deep in those dark and sneering pupils. Yet, if there was… he made no move to acknowledge it.

“Ah, finally. I assume you… work here?”

The condescending pause made sure to inform you that he didn’t consider anything you might do day-to-day as actual employment... Not that you particularly did either. It was that same, haughty, down-the-nose attitude that you had seen him dish out upon anyone remotely below him though. The limitless store of oppressive self-measurement that had drained all your own confidence away over years. The urge to stand up straight and apologise for running away to be a human sextoy was palpable… but he still hadn’t given any confirmation that he recognised you! Perhaps there remained a possibility you could hide from this.

You nodded nervously and scurried around to the other side of the counter, forgetting about the splatterings of semen running down your face… for the moment. As you passed the stairway up to the apartment your fear-heightened senses heard the distinct sounds of Skeg and Nancy ‘intimately discussing management practices’, which explained why they hadn’t heard the bell ringing. While you didn’t need to hear the moans coming from the shop’s back room to know where your step-sister would be. Most of your more regular customers knew by now that a little waiting might be in order to get what they were after in this… less professional of business outlets. You knew well how little patience your step-parent had for standing around though.

“I’ve been told I should come to this place and ask for a… ‘drill bit, with extra attachments’?”

He knew the right codewords! Reciting them as if not quite believing they meant what he thought they might. Had another customer recognised one of those old posters and rang a tip in for him? Had he hired some sort of P.I. who had tracked you down to the shop? Or was he actually just here as a customer himself… having learned what to ask for by coincidence and word of mouth? You still didn’t know whether he could tell it was the boy he'd 'raised' standing opposite him, dressed in a hideously-short skirt and a jail’s worth of man-gunk. Your skill with make-up and tight-braided pigtails had only improved over the last few months, making you seem more and more effeminate. Even the way you moved and stood idle had naturally shifted into more teasingly feminine postures. Maybe he really didn’t know! You held onto the thought with all your heart.

Still, the reality of what he’d actually asked for had to be addressed… You were faced with the knowledge that you were an item on the shop's menu more poignantly than ever before. How many strangers had come in and asked for that very same thing to date?

You couldn't risk replying to him in anyway different than you had to all of them:

In your softest, squeakiest voice you answered… "T-hat costs $50, Sir… u-up front."