Daddy's Angel, Chapter 1

“I’m ready to go, Daddy,” she said as she presented herself to him.

Jackson glanced over his Angel. It was his job to make sure he was presenting the best available merchandise possible. No one goes to a car lot to buy the most horrific looking vehicle on sale. Why would it be expected when it came to paying for sex? “Beautiful,” he commented, “let’s go.”

Jessica walked through the home as she made her way out to the vehicle, a nicely tricked-out Yukon with all of the bells and whistles included. The home itself was modest with a touch of extravagance. Four bedrooms and five bathrooms, with a swimming pool and sauna in the backyard. When Jackson first purchased the home several years back, it was simple—only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, and just enough grass on the front lawn to suggest it was more than weeds.

But as his business grew, so did his home. There were four girls, total, and they all added something to the home. There was a bedroom for each of the girls with plenty of bathrooms to match. Though Jackson complained about how much noise the girls constantly made, he found himself used to the rumbling chaos. He would never admit that he missed the noise when the girls weren’t at home.

Jackson Roberts was first and foremost a businessman. He knew what the supply and demands were and how to meet them. He knew the value of the dollar and how to make it stretch as far as he could. He never considered himself a pimp, though that was exactly what he was. To Jackson, a pimp was someone who kept his “hoes” living run-down and raggedy; having the girls walk up and down the street at all hours of the night; disrespecting them by calling them ‘ho’ or ‘bitch.’

But that wasn’t Jackson or his girls. They shopped at the designer boutique stores, had meals that consisted more than a hamburger and fries, and most importantly, gave Jackson all of their earnings. In return, he gave them love and comfort no one else could. The girls, in return, referred to him as Daddy. It was Princess who gave him the nickname first during a heated and passionate exchange during sex. She kept referring to him as Daddy and soon the other girls picked up on it. It never bothered Jackson for he grew to love the name.

He wasn’t a pimp. A stockbroker, if you will. Just as a person would watch the stocks to see how their money is doing, Jackson eyed his girls to make sure they acted right. To him, he was merely a protector of his investments.

And his investments were managing his personal massage business. High-class executives and regular Joe Schmoes will call up Jackson’s service to set up an appointment. The girls would go to the client’s house, render any services, and return home to Jackson, with a large wad of cash in tow. It was always discreet and untraceable, especially back to Jackson.

There were four of them—Vanilla, Caliente, Princess, and Angel. Each nickname matched the girls’ personalities to a tee. Vanilla was Kelly, a demure woman in her twenties who was quiet and inexplicably shy. She was petite blonde with full-B cup implants, a gift from Jackson on her 20^th birthday. She was the youngest of the girls and the least experienced. She knew the basics of sucking and fucking but hesitated to try anything further. Jackson didn’t press her to know more but practically demanded the other girls to teach Kelly everything they knew, despite how much they didn’t want to.

Vanilla wasn’t the smartest of the group, but she always had the best intentions, no matter how hard or flat they fell. Jackson gave her the nickname because of her favorite ice cream flavor, not to mention her sweet demeanor. Her nickname would also serve another purpose as Kelly would often pour vanilla ice cream over Jackson’s shaft before going down on him.

Caliente was Layla, whose mouth got her into trouble with Jackson on a weekly basis. She was a bi-racial beauty with dangerous curves. Equally dangerous was her mouth and temperament. She was argumentative, heated, and often held grudges for as long as she could. But it was her sex style that prompted the nickname from Jackson. She was enticing, desirable, and could make a john orgasm within two minutes from her hot mouth. It was an open secret if Layla did not service Jackson at least once a week, he came unbearable to be around.

Next there was Princess, who was Eve. She the athletic one, a trained gymnast who spent her free time sculpting her body and mind as oppose to going shopping with the other girls. She was the brains of the group, handling the bookkeeping and accounting for Jackson. She made Jackson’s professional masseuse business sound and act legit, keeping the cops at bay.

Princess was a stunning beauty and used her looks to her advantage more often than not. Jackson heavily spoiled her, giving the finest of everything. It was that very attitude that often set up the battle between Princess and Caliente—the ultimate Princess going against the Diva.

Lastly, there was Angel—Jessica. It wasn’t a secret the other girls didn’t care for Angel for the simple fact she was Jackson’s favorite. But Angel didn’t care one way or another who liked her as long as she had Jackson’s approval, which was a guarantee. She was an older blonde—older as in Angel was only in her mid-twenties.

But there was one significant difference between Angel and the rest of the girls—her aura. There was an air about Jessica that made her stand out like a sore thumb. She was incredibly picky, spoiled, and could be quite condescending in her dealings. While Caliente was confrontational, Angel was passive-aggressive. Princess was showered with attention from Jackson; Angel demanded it. Angel only tolerated Vanilla because she had to, otherwise, she wouldn’t have.

But that wasn’t the only difference the girls hated about Angel. She was just like Jackson in more ways than she would admit. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Maybe that was why they butted heads often. Whatever the case, she was Daddy’s Angel.

“So what’s the treatment tonight?” Jessica asked Jackson.

“The usual,” he replied.

Ah yes, the usual, Jessica rolled her eyes. The usual consisted of a nude full body massage, topped off with a happy ending of the client’s choice. Jessica couldn’t remember and dared to think about how many orgasms she had faked over the years. Serving and soliciting clients wasn’t the most enjoyable sexual experiences. They were boring. The men were usually too vocal or worse, too selfish. A few clients got too rough in which Jackson literally handed the men their asses on a platter.

But it was a life she chose. It was a life she dove head first into five years ago when she was just barely out of college. I knew what I was doing or I wouldn’t be here, she sighed. She adjusted her position so she leaned against the door and stared at the moonlight shining down on her. Arriving in Los Angeles a few years back, she never imagined her life to become what it was. In fact, she had completely different ideas for it….

Jessica responded to a casting call for a small-role in an upcoming TV drama. She had been going to auditions since arriving in LA a few months back. She survived by waitressing and bartending at night while going to her acting classes during the day. Forty-five auditions and no callbacks. Not to mention, Jessica looked like every other young blonde trying to make it in Hollywood. Some had perkier breasts while other had whiter teeth. Some had professional training; others had the natural ability.

And then there was Jessica, who had fallen somewhere in between. She was pretty enough to do some modeling work. She was thin enough to fit in with Hollywood standards. But to Hollywood and the rest of the world, she was another blonde trying to chase a nonexistent dream.

Arriving at a local downtown office, Jessica waited against the wall with 30 other girls, not to mention the long line forming outside the doorway leading into the street. She was tired, her feet were sore from standing so long, and desperately hungry. But if she wanted her big break, she will have to curb her appetite and ignore her feet for just a while longer.

A door soon opened and another inspiring starlet was sent on her way home. Jessica straightened out her clothing and walked up to the casting director.

“Ah, let me guess,” the casting director glanced over her body, “you’re FOB.”

Jessica squinted her eyes. “FOB?”

“Fresh Off the Bus,” the casting director smiled again, “where ya’ from, kiddo?”

“Troy, Michigan,” Jessica wearily replied.

“Detroit-city girl coming to L.A. for big dreams and big living,” he licked his lips, “I have the perfect opportunity for you, sweetheart. You’ll be perfect for a new role I’m casting.”

Jessica’s eyes lit up. Her dream of making it in Hollywood was about to come true. No more living off Cup O’ Noodles or scrounging change to do laundry. Soon, she’ll be at event parties and become tabloid fodder for the gossip columns. “Really? What is it?”

The director grabbed Jessica’s hand and led her to his private office. “Let’s talk here for more privacy and comfort.”

Ten minutes later, a loud scream was heard and Jessica bolted out of the room. She was crying and frantically trying to put her clothing back on. The casting director limped out of the room, holding his crotch. “You’ll never work in this town again, bitch!”

Still, to this day, Jessica wasn’t sure if the casting director actually blackballed her from the industry or if it was simply not her time to shine. But all of that didn’t matter now as the truck pulled up to a mansion. Jackson parked the vehicle and Jessica glanced over her appearance one last time. She may not have been headlining any movies but she’ll be in the starring role for someone’s fantasy that night.