Chapter 24 - New Blood

WALDEN BARRETT

The sun is bright in the later March sky as I steer my SUV down the winding road. I never tire of the way this motor handles. Nor of the smell of fresh-cut grass that’s still in my nostrils from the golf course and another win this morning over my passenger Keith.

Alongside me, he’s still wittering away about his birthday party the other week at the clubhouse. OK, that was a good night. But there’ll be a whole lot more just like it when Richmond finally puts me in charge of one of the clubs. And that better be T1 - flagship Traders. With the big dungeon.

Still Keith goes on about the girls I took to his party. About how many cocks the ‘sluts’ took. About ‘how cool’ it is that I have ‘another friend’ who can access young girls like them. And again he mentions the ‘Freaks’ (as he calls them), who served in the bathroom and bar.

I nod and grin at him.

If he knew the fucking half of it. Or if his straight-laced wife did. I like Keith. But beating him again over 18 holes this morning felt especially good. It’s set me up nicely for what will be a real moment of triumph. The formal announcement at the strategy meeting today of me at the T1 helm. And Philip Hasting’s fucking face when he hears the news.

Now that, will feel real good.

Finally Keith falls quiet and slouches comfortably in the passenger seat. I glance across at him. He looks miles away now with a satisfied grin plastered across his face. Impressive resilience for a guy who had his ass packaged and handed to him on the course before.

I smile to myself.

“I’m looking forward to getting home and just putting my feet up in front of the TV,” he sighs, stretching his arms out. “A cold beer and catch up on the sports until dinner.”

I smile and shake my head. “You’re only fucking sixty. You should be out and about. Keeping your head in the game.”

“Yeah, right,” he says. “So what big plans does Walden Barrett have for the rest of his day?”

“I’ve got a business meeting later,” I reply, feeling a spark of excitement but keen not to raise suspicion. An active finger in the ‘Adult entertainment’ pie is nothing he or the other guys need to be certain of. Even though one or two of them might suspect something. “Richmond Coyle,” I shrug, relaxed about impressing with the name again. Coyle’s careful to keep his clubs division well out of the spotlight.

Keith raises an eyebrow, “I know you mix in some grandiose circles Wal, but when are you actually going to retire? You’re still working part-time in that shop of Lu’s as well, aren’t you?”

“I don’t work there,” I laugh, “I’ve got stuff going on in the place,” I wink at him. “It’s close enough to home and the privacy there for a few hours a week suits me fine.” I concentrate on the road again. And why should I shuffle around in carpet slippers like most guys my age? Lounging around all afternoon watching TV. Fuck that. Life’s too short. There are plenty of deals to be done and pussy to be grabbed. He can turn himself into a couch potato with a mundane retirement. Not fucking me. By tonight I should have my own whorehouse to control and keep secret from Lucretia.

I smile again at the prospect. But then peer across at him again. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy another session like your birthday party again this afternoon, can you? Instead of just putting your feet up until bedtime?”

Keith chuckles but then his face hardens a little. “Thirty-plus years of wedded bliss puts an end to that kind of activity at home, my friend.”

“Maybe you need to look for a little something on the side,” I say, unable to stop myself goading him a little, “Get yourself a goomah.”

“A what?”

“Sorry,” I laugh, “I must have been channeling the great Gandolfini. A ‘mistress’. Get yourself a regular mistress.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “The party was great. But do it regular? I couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. Another woman would be too much drama.”

He sounds so fucking old, but I just laugh as we pull into his driveway. “Don’t overdo it this afternoon then,” I grin as he opens his door.

“You too,” he laughs, “Enjoy your meeting and keep taking the ginseng or whatever it is. See you next week, Wal.”

A few minutes later, as my anticipation swells again at the thought of running one of the clubs - and of Lucretia knowing fuck all about my appointment - my stomach growls. I need that late breakfast. A proper fry-up with sausage, bacon and plenty of eggs.

But when I pull into our driveway, my heart sinks.

Her silver Merc is outside.

What’s she doing home?

I sigh and step out of the SUV, but I’m already imagining the disapproval on her face when she sees what I’m going to cook. And I wanted to spend some time alone reviewing last night’s CCTV recordings of Amanda and Chris’ bedroom.

“Oh, you’re back,” she shouts from the kitchen when I’m inside the house. “Walden, please take those golf shoes off before you trail mud all over the floor again.”

I roll my eyes to myself. “What are you doing home, anyway?”

“My phone charger was playing up,” she yells back, “I just called in for another. I’m on my way over to the Felton Road store to give it the once over before I meet the girls for lunch.”

‘Girls’!

“Have we got sausages in the fridge?” I ask and kick my shoes off, then I stuff them under the coat rack in the hallway.

“Oh Walden, you’re not trying to kill yourself with yet another beastly fried brunch, are you? I’ll make you a salad before I leave.”

“I don’t want salad,” I groan, “I’m hungry.”

She’s in the kitchen with a coffee and a frown. Even as I peck the side of her head I know what’s coming next.

“Walden, you can’t keep eating like that. Not with your weight, and your cholesterol...”

“Don’t start with that again, please,” I interrupt and head for the fridge with my irritation bubbling. “I’m fine. One half-decent breakfast won’t hurt me.”

She keeps her coffee mug in one hand but crosses her arms and her mouth tightens as she looks at me, “You’re hardly a young man anymore.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” I say without looking at her and I slap the pack of bacon down on the island close to her. And then the sausages

“And you’re out again this afternoon aren’t you? What about the garden? I’m still waiting for those weeds to be done.”

“So, we’ll get a gardener,” I say and stab the bacon pack open with a knife.

“We will not get a gardener Walden. The exercise would do you good.”

“I don’t need the fucking exercise,” now I look at her, “I’ve walked miles around a gold course already today. Which is why I’m hungry,” I point at the raw meat with the knife.

“And I don’t need to hear language like that from you,” she snorts and takes her coffee with her out of the room.

Later, the afternoon the air in the hotel meeting room is stifling as we settle into our seats. Brian, one of the other guys, fucking insists on vaping again before the meeting gets fully underway, and for some reason, Richmond lets him. Brian’s directly on my left on the long, rectangular table. Richmond is at the head further away to my left. The main man drones on with the intros and the agenda, and as he does, I can’t help thinking that if I moved my elbow up and out, hard and fast enough in that same direction, I could both choke Brian and probably knock most of his teeth out at the same time.

Huey is on my right and it turns out that Anton is here today too. And as a major shareholder in Richmond’s business, he’s at the main man’s side. The place I normally get to sit. Presumably this ‘guest appearance’ is to check on his investment.

He leans right back in his chair, hands behind his head with an expression of smug self-satisfaction. He still has the goatee like me. And I’m still sure he based his on mine.

Hastings has squeezed himself in on Richmond’s other side. No doubt to lick ass all afternoon.

I nod at one of the new guys who arrives a little late and he apologizes to Richmond before taking his seat almost opposite me. And then finally the main man takes a breath.

But then he continues.

“So to item one,” he says, “The new Traders Divisional structure. About which Anton and I have given a great deal of thought.”

Anton nods seriously.

Here we go. My pulse quickens.

“Given the latest acquisition of a further three venues to take us to ten, and then plans we have for imminent further expansion,” he says, “I’ve decided to create the new position of ‘General Manager - Clubs’. A strategic role that will bear overall responsibility for the day-to-day operations across all clubs, reporting directly to me as Chairman.”

Is he looking at me?

“And into this new position, I’m delighted to welcome my good friend and company investor Anton Fielding.”

Anton? I thought the cunt had retired.

“I’d like to thank him for stepping back into the trenches, at least while we’re in a relatively steep expansion mode.”

Anton smiles around the table.

“Reporting in to Anton from Monday - our soon to be ten club managers.”

Reporting to Anton? Not Richmond? I don’t want any layer of management between me and the big man.

“Now, for the swift sake of those present, I’ll name the positions that undoubtedly concern you most. Philip Hastings is confirmed as General Manager Traders 1.”

Hastings? You’re fucking kidding! All that fucking brown nosing actually paid off for him?

Phil beams and as congratulations echo around the room, he straightens up fully and nods his thanks.

“Philip, before I continue,” Richmond says, “Why don’t you update the team on your impressive recent developments?”

Am I expected to fucking to listen to this?

My head throbs as I watch the smarmy young shit recite a list that includes blonde Marcie Duman to take up a position as Zaria’s replacement in the dungeon. Something about that Shiloh girl he brought into the business, and then that little slut Rachel’s return. With fucking Sophie!

So bang goes any chance of the Barlow girl working in my shop too. My face burns and my blood pressure must be through the fucking roof.

I stare at Richmond, waiting for some flicker in his face that hints at guilt about what he’s done to me. Or even any uncertainty about accepting Rachel’s return.

But he looks as calm as ever.

“And then there’s the third Machin female,” Phil smirks around the room, “Lanie, she’s a pure vision. She’s due for interview in Richmond’s HQ later this week.”

“Let’s see if that one has potential first Philip,” Richmond waves him into silence. “Traders 2 will see Huey Mather move into General Management within the division.”

I don’t even get that one?

“Huey will be part-seconded from Flamehead,” Richmond elaborates, “and his new role will free up management opportunities at our gaming division. Which we’ll use as inducement for a certain husband there who has talent. To make sure his wife too commits to our cause at Traders.”

Huey reddens behind his beard and he doesn’t look anywhere near as pleased with himself as Hastings did only moment ago. In fact he looks almost as pissed as I feel.

I shift in my seat, ready to rebuff any announcement of me taking the reins at a more remote club.

Richmond should have talked this shit through with me first.

But there’s no mention of my name as he continues through the other eight clubs, talking about how ‘they’ll’ evaluate the inherited staff before naming every single permanent management member. And if required, recruiting further.

Has he disregarded me because of my age? Didn’t I make it clear enough what I wanted?

The twat.

With Anton about to detail the new internal club management structure, I clear my throat and say Richmond’s name.

Why should I wait until the meeting is over and then pull him to one side to quiz him? Who cares if he’d doubtless prefer it that way? I’m calling him out on this.

“Ah, of course, Walden,” he stares at me. “How could I forget? So despite your transgression of using one of our key girls at a private event without authorization, and the continued lack of new female talent arriving from your direction, there will obviously still be a role in the organization for you.”

He knows about the party. My gut clenches but I’m thinking fast.

Maybe I should have told him, but he’s fucking hanging me out to dry here - in front of everyone.

“Evie offered her services,” I glare at him, “I had Rachel organized for my party. I’d got wind of the way Phil was trying to bring her back into the fold and I wanted to do my bit to help the cause too,” I tell him an outright lie and one of Phil’s eyebrows rises. “Ease her back into action. She told Evie about the party and your girl just turned up keen to open her legs too,” I shrug my shoulders. “You loaned your European duo out for the same event,” I remind him and next to him, the smirk slides off Phil’s face.

“Yes, but under strict instructions,” Richmond says, “And certainly not in the knowledge that Evie Blandon would be there too.”

“Well whatever,” I wave a hand. “What do you want me to do for the business?”

That’s it then. I’m left taking crumbs off the fucking table.

“Board Advisor for Club Operations,” Richmond stares right back at me. “You’ll report to Anton.”

“Great,” I say and stand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an emergency dental appointment,” I lie for the second time but I can’t stay in this room. If I do, I won’t be the only one here who regrets it.

I leave with frustration boiling my guts.

I know what I need. I stride through the hotel lobby, with my phone against an ear.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barrett, Sir,” the male voice on the other end answers.

“Listen to me carefully, Pantyboy,” I keep my tone clipped. “Bring my girlfriend to the store in thirty minutes.”

There’s a slight hesitation before he clears his throat. “Uh, well… we’re grocery shopping right now.”

“And? Abandon the trolley,” I order, and keep my voice low but firm. “I want you both at the store. Don’t. Let. Me. down.”

“No, Mr. Barrett, Sir,” he mumbles, breathing hard now.

My mind races as I head outside toward my car. I’m not scheduled at the store today, but I’ll get rid of the old bird there and tell her I’m closing up tonight. If Lucretia gets to hear then I’ll say I was feeling bad about the argument me and her had. I’ll say I wanted to do something to make it up to her.

I drive toward the sanctuary of the store, but my thoughts are pulled back to Richmond, to Philip bastard Hastings and smarmy Anton. The way they all laughed together, so cozy in their new roles.

Well, Hastings for one won’t have everything his own way. I’ll fucking see to that.

I arrive at the small parking lot behind the most local of my wife’s vintage stores some thirty-five minutes later. Their car is already here and its engine running. I switch mine off and head outside over toward them.

Pantyboy is out before I reach them and Carol with her wild reddish hair, not far behind. She’s in a loose-fitting, flowery dress. One that I’ll have that off her soon enough.

“Good evening Mr. Barrett Sir,” he says and she nods.

“Give me five minutes to dismiss the day shift then follow me inside,” I tell them and don’t wait for a response.

Inside the store, I tell the old woman who Lucretia recruited in place of Amanda that she can leave early and that I’ll close and clean up.

She’s just buttoning her coat up her throat when the couple arrive.

“I’ll be fine with them,” I tell the woman and gesture again for her to leave. The poor old trout has no idea that these two are the ones who close close and clean the store whenever I’m here at the end of a day.

They, not me.

“Thanks, Mr. Barrett,” she says and departs.

I motion Pantyboy to lock the door once she’s gone.

“Right, Carol, into the back office. I’ve had a cunt of a day. Let’s have that dress off in there right away. Tits out too and on your knees waiting for me. Pantyboy, you know the drill. Put the kettle on first, then coffee for me and your Mrs. Cash Register Reconciliation, Inventory Management, and shelf re-stocking. Pay particular attention tonight Pantyboy. to the promotional displays.”

“Yes, Mr. Barrett Sir,” he nods his head.

“Carol will probably be done making me feel better about my day and sucking my cock in plenty of time to help with your cleaning duties if needed. Before I get to the closing report.”

“Yes, Mr Barrett Sir.”

“Carol? Why are you still here?” I slap at the back of her dress and her big ass, “Go get stripped.”

She hurries down the store holding onto the sides of her dress.

I head over the the till for a quick look at the takings and then follow the path the pair of them took, down the aisle toward the back office.

Carol is down on her knees with her dress scrunched around her waist but struggling to get her bra off when I reach her there. “Where shall I do it for you, Mr. Barrett?” she gazes up at me in a matching pale pink two set.

“I’m too shot to sit on the edge of the desk tonight,” I blow out my cheeks and shake my head. “Come round the other side of it. I can relax more in my seat there. Crawl.”

Her face reddens but she finally gets the bra off and drops it on the floor. And then as I take my seat, she crawls around to me, twists swaying and swinging like udders full of creamy milk.

“Look at those big titties go,” I smile at her reddened face and my mood now is better than it’s been for hours.

She reaches me and I let her unzip me. “Mmm, so have you had a really bad day, Walden?”

I know what she’s doing. She’s using my first name just to goad me. I know well enough what she wants, too.

She slides my zipper down and fumbles for my thickening cock.

I’ll let her wait a few more minutes before I react to what she said. Before I give her what she’s asking for.

“Mmm,” she moans and grips my tool tight in her left hand, wedding band and all.

“Uhh, yeah,” I exhale.

She kisses the head.

“Yeah, I’ve had a bad day,” I settle back into the seat as I’m sucked. “The fucking people who run that club.”

“I don’t known why you work with them if they stress you so much,” she murmurs and licks up the length of my shaft.

“For one thing” I lean forward and over her. I draw my cock from her mouth and hold it, jacking it in her face, “I like all the young pussy it gives me access to.”

She frowns and her lips pucker.

I let go of my dick go but grip her throat.

“Urgh,” she gasps and her blue eyes look right up into mine, her pupils dilate, her face flushed.

“And for another, you don’t use my first name unless you’re told to. Do you?” I wallop her bare tits with my free hand.

They shudder like water balloons and her throat muscles spasm in my grip.

“Do you?” I glare at her.

Her head and red hair moves left to right.

“I can’t hear you,” I snarl and release my grip on her throat a little, enough for her to speak. Her fucking big nipples are crinkled and rock-hard.

“Urgh, No Mr. Barrett Sir.”

“Better,” I nod, but slap her face.

Her head rocks and crimson now she pouts at me, almost like she’s angry.

“Get sucking,” I let go of her.

“Yes, Mr. Barrett Sir,” she shivers - maybe with excitement, but her head lowers to my groin again. She sucks hard.

“Uhhm yeah, take it deep down,” I moan and grab handfuls of her thick light-red hair. I thrust upward from the seat.

“Uck-urgh, uck-urgh,” her head plunges down, her arms raised and massaging my chest as she does, then massaging my thighs, and then my chest again.

The woman can’t make up her mind.

She squeezes down so low against my cock and balls that I can’t get a decent grip or hit at her tits. But I don’t care now. I’m way too close to cumming.

“Pantyboy?” I yell at the door, “Pantyboy, get in here right now! I hold her tight and push up to meet each suck.

The door is knocked.

“Get in here,” I groan and the door opens.

He stands wide-eyed but doesn’t move.

“She’s got a load cumming to her, oh yeah,” I gasp and smirk at him for a second before groaning.

“Yes, Mr Barrett Sir,” he mumbles.

“This woman can suck cock good, Pantyboy”

“Thank you, Mr. Barrett, Sir.”

“Uhh, get, get ready,” I screw my eyes shut, “Get ready Pantyboy,” I explode and clutch her face close to my spewing balls, barfing up the frustration of the day, deep into her married mouth and throat.

But there’s a lot of it. More than even Carol’s mouth can catch or contain, and it squirts and leaks onto the floor too.

“Uhh, come on Pantyboy,” I gasp and lean over her head as the eruption starts to subside, “Get down here too. Clean this floor.”

Author's Notes

How do you expect Walden to deal with this reversal from Richmond? Is there anything he can do now to improve his status amongst the other bulls? Or will he focus on what he has with his other married couple(s).

And what about the oaths he muttered to himself regarding Phil - are they no more than empty threats?

Share your thoughts about this or anything else in the comments below.

Next week we're with Trevor. But now that Roy knows Lanie's whereabouts, will Trevor still have her in his bed?

© 2025 Tinto Selvaggio. All rights reserved.

 All characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.