Monthly Archives: February 2013

Diary of a Male Maid Chapter 1 Preview



Diary Of a Male Maid
Written By: Jennifer Foor
Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Foor
All Rights Reserved
This book is a written act of fiction. Any places, characters,
or similarities are purely coincidence.


Chapter 1

If someone were to have told me that I would have been making this kind of money before I even finished college, I would have said they were insane. I wasn’t anyone that would have been considered a prospective success story. In my last two years of high school, I was more likely to be called the class stoner. I’d spent most of my time toking it up with my boys, instead of focusing on school. My GPA dropped, but my attitude stayed the same. My mother had to fight for me to get my diploma, and community college became my only option of furthering my education.
I wanted to be a business owner since I was a little; ever since the first time I stepped foot into a pawn shop. The idea of having my own store stuck with me, but, with my lack of initiative, it never left my back pocket full of ideas. After two years of community college and a lot of all night study groups, I was able to pull an A average in all of my classes. I was accepted into a four-year program, and began my adventure into a serious college environment.
Unfortunately, the economy hit my family hard, and they were unable to provide my tuition any longer. After much consideration, I dropped a couple of classes and started working two jobs, just to get by. With working more hours than I was sleeping, work became overwhelming, and I even considered dropping out of college. The problem was that I had literally turned my whole life around and I wasn’t willing to give it up because of a financial roadblock.
My girlfriend, at the time, had began cleaning houses as an easy source of income. She was doubling my income and working half the amount of hours that I had been. After she acquired too many clients to maintain herself, she offered me a position assisting her. Her clients were extremely rich and generous. They paid her well over what a normal house cleaner would receive and also tipped her for her good work.
My first day on the job was a bit overwhelming. I had never really had to clean an entire house before and had no idea what the job really entailed. Sure, the money was excellent, but the work was tedious. The first house we cleaned was for a rich family of a major business owner in the Baltimore area.
To protect the families involved, I have chosen not to provide any actual names. For the sake of the story we will call my first clients the Smiths.
Mrs. Smith was a forty something brunette with bodacious breasts and the most natural plump lips I had ever seen. She was very reluctant about me coming into her house without having a thorough background check done on me. My now ex, whose name is Karrie, explained that it was necessary for clients to be able to trust anyone new that came into their homes. I understood completely and provided her with all of my information to have a background check done.
The Smith’s house was on the schedule for twice a week. On Monday’s we would clean all of the bathrooms, the kitchen, and scrub all of the floors. On Friday’s we would vacuum, clean and change the sheets and tidy up whatever we had cleaned on Mondays. After two weeks, the job became easier, and between the two of us, we were able to do it in half the time that Karrie normally had to work.
We had been cleaning the Smith’s house for about three months before Karrie was offered an internship in New York City. Since she was studying fashion, and it was a dream opportunity that she couldn’t pass on. When she sat Mrs. Smith down to tell her the news, I was certain the woman would suggest she find someone else to clean her house. She never spoke to me much, and always made me feel a little uncomfortable, how she would follow me around and comment on my work. I was utterly in shock when she asked if I could stay on, provided that my workmanship remained up to her standards.
Even after cleaning for this family for months, I was reluctant the first day going there alone. The woman’s children were my age, and I knew she wouldn’t have wanted either of them cleaning someone’s house for income. I grabbed all of my supplies, and loaded them into my Jeep, and then headed to the exclusive community that the Smiths lived in.
Unlike when Karrie and I had cleaned the house together, Mrs. Smith greeted me at the door. She never even acknowledged us, usually until we had been there at least thirty minutes, so this was out of the ordinary. She had opened the door and leaned her head against the side of it, as I made my way up the stone landscaped sidewalk. “Hello Sebastian.” She looked me directly in the eye.
Ever since I was in grade school, everyone had called me Bastian, and my mom and sister sometimes called me Sebby, but never Sebastian. My mother’s fascination with the Little Mermaid left me with an absurd name, and the idea that somehow I was named after a shellfish.
“Hello, Mrs. Smith,” I said as I walked toward her, and proceeded into the house.
Mrs. Smith followed me inside and up the stairs to the bathroom, where Karrie and I had always started on Monday’s. “Is there anything that you need from me before you get started?” She asked.
“No, I think I am good.” I grabbed a bottle of Windex and got started on the mirrors.
She walked over and leaned against the sink. “Let me know if you do…need something.” She stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me to work on the task at hand. Of course, cleaning that house took me double the normal time, due to the fact that I was now a one-man job.
Karrie texted me a couple of times. She seemed genuinely worried that I wouldn’t be able to handle the job alone. After five hours I finished everything on the list and approached Mrs. Smith for my check. She was sitting on the oak desk in the sunroom that looked out into the pool yard. The first thing I noticed was that her hair was wet, from a fresh shower, I assumed, and she was wearing a thin red robe made from a satin material. The robe hung open, and her matching red lace bra and panties were exposed.
When she noticed me walking in, and I noticed her, I turned immediately to avoid feeling even more uncomfortable. “So sorry Mrs. Smith. I didn’t mean to just walk in. I was just wanting you to know that I was finished and wondering if I could get a check for today.”
“Sebastian, darling, please don’t feel bad, I am not ashamed, if you aren’t.”
I still stood with my back facing her. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught staring at her breasts, which by the way, looked fucking amazing under that thin robe.
“If my appearance makes you uncomfortable, I can tie up my robe,” she suggested.
She was waiting for my response, in which I really didn’t want to give. I took a big breath and turned to face her and I noticed that she had hooked the robe and was standing in the front of the desk about three foot away from me.
“Sorry, you just caught me off guard. Next time I will call out your name, or knock before I enter the room,”
She gave a half smile, resulting in her plump lips stretching across her flawless face. “Maybe I don’t mind that you barged in at the very moment you did.” She grabbed a white envelope off of her desk, and as I watched, she tucked it deep into her cleavage, under the robe. “I have your money, but I was wondering if you would be interested in making a little more.” She licked her lips.
I considered that I was just imagining any erotic vibe I was getting from this woman. With what I got from working at her house, I was able to do away with my second job all together. I couldn’t afford to be assuming the wrong thing. “Sure, what type of work do you need done? Did you need a new filter in your vents, or is there a clog in a drain or something?”
I know how that sounded, but I meant it in a total professional way…
“Hmmm, something like that.” She approached me and grabbed the bin out of my hand that held my cleaning supplies. “Why don’t we sit these down over here?” She sat them on the floor beside the desk, and then she pulled on the tie to her satin robe.
As it opened, she approached me and positioned her body to be directly in front of me. She bit her bottom lip and looked me right in the eye. Then she took her right hand and ran it from her heart, straight down to her abdomen, concentrating on the cleavage across her breast. “Being home alone gets really lonely. Sometimes I feel like I have nobody to talk to.”
I stared at the woman’s supple breasts as the skin protruded out of the top of the red bra. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. “I am sorry that things are hard for you. You’re a beautiful woman. I am sure there are social groups you can become a member of, it isn’t necessary for you to spend your days pent up in this house.” I was feeling like if this were some kind of test about trust, I would hope I passed.
“I have friends dear, more than I can count.” She looked directly at me, and bit her bottom lip, sucking it before she let it go. “Do you like what you see?” She grabbed the robe on either side and let it fall to the ground.
I was a man, and this was a very bodacious woman. Of course I liked what I saw. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Was this actually happening? Did I eat something bad and this was some sort of erotic dream? Maybe it was a candid reality show and my friends set me up.
The woman was almost naked in front of me.
The more I stared the harder my dick was getting. I considered my options, but only for a few seconds. Dream or not, I decided to take advantage. “Hell yeah, I like what I see.”
She stuck her finger into her mouth and once it was wet she drug it across the skin on one of her breasts. “I don’t believe you. Maybe you should touch me and show me.”
I stood there still for at least ten seconds just evaluating the situation. I hadn’t had sex since Karrie left, and it was hard to concentrate on chairs, or anything non-sexual for that matter, especially while this woman stood within inches of me.
“Do you want to touch me Sebastian?” She was still running her hand across her breast.
No! Say no dude!
“Then do it. Touch me, Sebastian.”
Just hearing my name roll off her tongue gave me butterflies, like I was thirteen again. Every guy wants to be seduced by Stiffler’s mom. I reached my now shaking hands over to her waist and gently ran my hands in an upward motion. When I got to where the lace of her bra started, I paused.
“Mmm, keep going Sebastian. Touch me. Please.” Her eyes were on my traveling hands.
From the moment my thumbs hit either side of that lace, I knew there was no backing out. My dick was taking control of the situation. I ran my thumbs under the lace and worked my way with both thumbs under the fabric to both breasts. My hands were now under the bra and nearing the nipples. She leaned her head back and held her arms against the desk once my fingers pinched both of them.
“Take it off. Please, Sebastian.” She pleaded.
I pulled my hands out from under the bra and reached behind her back, to unhook the red bra. My chest pressed against hers, and although I still had a shirt on, I could feel the heat coming off of her hot ass body.
I was both nervous and excited at the same time. My body was shaking with every touch.
As soon as I had the bra in my hands, I pulled it away from her supple breasts and very hard nipples. She climbed on the desk and turned back around the face me. Her naked breasts were calling my name, and I quickly approached Mrs. Smith, using my hands as a guide.
I leaned down and kissed the skin between her breasts. Slowly, I worked my way in small kisses down to her hard nipples. All I could think about was having them in my mouth. Still, I looked up at her to get her approval. I was still semi prepared for her to slap me at any time.
“Lick my nipples, Sebastian.”
Well, shit! Sounds like a go-ahead to me.
I cupped one of her breasts in my hand and ran my wet tongue across her nipple, just how she had asked me to. She threw her head back and bite her lip. “Yes, that feels so good, Sebastian. Now use your teeth. Bite it.”
With her breast still cupped in my hand, I licked her hardened nipple once more before dragging my teeth against it. I took my open mouth and bit down on her nipple, gentle enough that I could drag my tongue against the tip, while it was still in my mouth. Mrs. Smith seemed to enjoy it, as she let out a moan that made my dick harder than it already was.
I am not one to leave someone left out, so I moved over to her other nipple. I sucked on it hard, making the shape pointed almost. I licked it fast, causing a wet band of saliva to drip down from it. I blew on it, causing the cold air to make Mrs. Smith moan again. While pinching the other nipple, I took this new one into my mouth, dragging my teeth back and sucking at the last minute.
Mrs. Smith grabbed my head and pulled my face up to hers. Instead of kissing me, she licked my bottom lip, and pulled away just waiting for my reaction.
“Take off your clothes Sebastian,” She ordered.
I backed away from her and ripped my shirt off and over my head. When I unbuttoned my pants, I watched as Mrs. Smith slowly took her hand and slipped it into her lace panties. She spread her legs and began watching me undress, while she rubbed herself beneath the red lace.
“Oh Sebastian. Do you have any idea how badly I want you to fuck me?”
Holy shit! This has got to be the best freaking wet dream of my life.
I don’t even remember the removal of my pants. Once I had removed them and my shoes, I stood there facing this naked woman, with a massively hard dick.
“Kiss my panties Sebastian. Lick them from bottom to top,” she moaned the orders.
She backed herself onto the desk a little further, still biting her bottom lip in anticipation, as I leaned down and ran my tongue over the red lace panties. I could smell her sex, and I wanted nothing more than to rip them off and lick her soft lips. She was so wet that it was leaking through her panties as I licked them. I could taste her on my tongue and I craved more. I reached my hand across her thigh and lifted her panties so that I could touch her wet pussy. My fingers slid in between her lips, feeling how wet she really was.
“Taste your fingers, Sebastian.” She played with her own nipples, running circles with her fingers over each of them.
I pulled my fingers out from under her panties and shoved them into my mouth, tasting her sweet musk. I’d never been so horny in my life.
“Take off my panties. I want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”
I ripped off her panties like they were on fire. The red lace went flying somewhere behind me, as my head rushed in between Mrs. Smith’s legs. She was so wet, and unlike some people, it turned me on. I licked her clit, and slid two fingers deep inside of her.
“Oh Yes! Oh, Sebastian. Please don’t stop,” She cried out my name again.
I made my tongue hard and pushed it against her clit, causing the pressure it needed to explode. I could feel her coming as her pussy tightened against my fingers, sending them sliding out of her. I lifted my head up and rubbed her wet pussy with my fingers once more.
“Oh, yes!”
All of my hopes to finish off the deal were crushed as she stood up from the desk and reached for her robe. She leaned down and grabbed the white envelope that had dropped on the floor.
“This was by far the best work you have done so far, Sebastian. I may need to suggest your skills to my friends,” she whispered in my ear as she kissed me on the lobe and walked out of the room. I turned around, still naked, watching her walk up the steps. “See you Friday.” She disappeared up the steps.
I can barely remember getting dressed and driving out of her community. When I got home I needed to take a cold shower and masturbate, twice. I hated washing her scent off of my face, being that it turned me on so much and I swore at any moment I was going to wake up from the incredible dream I was having.
Once I got out of the shower, I collapsed on my bed, only wearing a towel. The white envelope was lying across the bed in my jeans. When I opened the envelope, I noticed a white piece of paper and unfolded it.
Your work is impressive. I hope you will continue to give me 100%.
Mrs. Smith
Inside the envelope was five hundred dollar bills.

Hustle Me (preview of preface & first 2 chapters)



It was the same dream that I’d been having for as long as I could remember. The only difference was that I knew it was a dream.
The hardwood floor felt cold against the little cotton nightgown that I was wearing. My hair was still wet from my bath and my mother had braided it to the back of my head. I could feel the tears falling down my cheeks right before they fell down to the puddle forming on the floor. My little heart was beating so fast and the only thing keeping me safe was the fact the he didn’t know I was there, under my bed. As I clung tight to my teddy bear, that was missing an eye, I heard my mother screaming, followed by loud sounds of smacking.
“Please, Joe, don’t do this.” She pleaded with the last ounce of energy she had to defend herself.
Another loud slam and then a thump. “It wasn’t my fault, I swear.”
Smack. “Lies, all lies. I’ve heard this all before.” His deep voice made my heart race faster.
I heard her hit the wall as she cried and continued to plead with the man.
My mother’s body finally came crashing down on the wood floor in the hallway in front of my bedroom. I could see the top of her head as she tried to get up. Her loud sobs made me hold onto my teddy tighter. I wanted to help her so she didn’t have to cry all the time, but she always made me run and hide from the bad man.
I couldn’t see the bad man, in fact, I never could see his face, but I saw her body tightening up as she took each blow of his boot. “This is what happens when you lie to me, bitch. This is what you deserve!” He continued to kick on her legs.
I opened my eyes, because I had to know she was still okay. My mother was crying, but looking right at me. She brought her finger to her mouth to motion me to be quiet. I gave her a quick nod and leaned my head on my teddy, while covering my ears with my hands. I kept them closed, still able to hear the muffled sounds of my mother’s pain.
I only opened them when I felt the floor vibrating.
He was coming into my room.
I was afraid to look, but I had to. “Charlie? Where are you hiding?”
I opened my eyes and his boots were at the foot of my bed. Out of fear, my body began to shimmy further back until my feet hit the wall. My teeth were chattering and I knew I was going to see his face.
Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.
I could hear the creak of his back when he started to bend over. His hand grabbed the dust ruffle and moved it to the side.
This was it.
I could see his chin.
Where was my mother?
I put my hands over my ears again, closed my eyes and screamed as loud as I could.

Chapter 1

When I sat up in my bed, the clock read three in the morning. My cell phone was blinking with a text message and the cat was curled up on the pillow next to me. I grabbed him into my arms and started petting his black coat, before looking over at the teddy bear that was still missing one eye. It was the only thing I still had from that life. The only thing that reminded me to never forget how far I had come.
Just like every time I had been woken up from the nightmare that continued haunting me, I couldn’t fall back asleep. Before my parents were killed in a house fire, they used to let me sleep with them and hold me tight whenever I had a bad dream. I’d been dealing with them for ten years now and not even therapy or sleeping medication was keeping them away. Since I’d started at the university, they’d gotten even worse.
My therapy sessions hadn’t really shown progress, considering that I was still dreaming of the man named Joe that was coming to find me under my bed. His name had haunted me for as long as I could remember, but I still had never even met anyone by that name. It just made no sense.
Luckily, my roommate was never around long enough to discover all of the ridiculous things about me. She was your typical sorority pledge. Mechelle, or Elle, had beautiful blonde hair that was professionally styled. She’d never had to do a chore in her life, because her butler or nanny did them all for her. Aside from her obviously being from a wealthy family, she was also dating the school’s hottest bachelor. When I first met her, I had the biggest stereotype about Elle. I mean, she represented everything that I never had. I wanted to hate her.
There was no way I could ever have the time to pledge or make friends with anyone other than Elle. I mean, after being shifted from one foster home to another, I didn’t really have the means to fool around. Although, I hadn’t had a stable life since I was ten years old, I’d managed to always do well in school.
I wouldn’t say it was always easy for me. There was one place that I lived where I had to wear the same outfit to school all week, because the family used my government money to serve their heroin addiction. They didn’t buy me clothes as I outgrew them, or make sure I had something to eat every day. Another family I stayed with seemed perfect from the outside, but late at night, the man of the house liked to “Play with the kids”.

School was always my escape and I excelled at it because of that. I didn’t know another kid that reached achievement, because she was afraid of being anywhere other than school. I signed up for every before and after school program. I played field hockey and soccer. I wrote for the high school paper and even joined the debate team for something to do on the weekends. All of that was just a reason for me to be away from what waited for me at my homes.

After my mother and father died is when the dreams really got bad. Of course, I didn’t receive the proper mental care and it wreaked havoc on my mind. I would end up studying all night long instead of getting a good night sleep. Although, sometimes, it was good to be able to see my mother, even if she was part of a bad dream. I missed both of my parents, but my mother the most. She was my everything and the only person who had made me feel safe in my life.

I will never forget when I applied to colleges. The wait was nerve-racking, but the outcome unforgettable.
I got my first acceptance on a Friday afternoon. I came home to a cabinet with one can of tuna fish and a jar of peanut butter. My foster mother was sleep with a burned out cigarette still in her hand. Since my parents died in a fire, I wasn’t too keen on people that smoked. Fire scared me.
Anyway, I opened my can of tuna and ate it with a fork and I opened up that envelope. I was sweating and shaking profusely knowing that the words I was about to read could change my life.

I ended up being accepted everywhere I applied. I shouldn’t have been nervous. I was valedictorian and had gotten straight A’s since I was in first grade.

Moving out was easy. I’d been taking care of myself for as long as I could remember, but being able to cope with it all, was a challenge. Elle did whatever she could to try to coax me into the lifestyle she was accustomed to. I think she was finally realizing that I was more of a challenge than she had assumed.
I had problems opening up and that caused a strain in our friendship from the beginning. Never being able to count on anyone had made me put walls up. It prevented me from ever getting close enough to someone for them to hurt me. I’d lost everything I loved and had to live in horrible conditions just to survive and get where I was. I was bound and determined to finish with school and never live that kind of life again.
Still, it didn’t stop her from trying to drag me places and force me to be more sociable. She and her boyfriend, Tommy, kept trying to hook me up with people they knew, but after a few dates that ended miserably, they had finally stopped pushing as much as at first.
My only other friend was actually someone from my past. Zach Miller was put into the foster care system the same week that I was. We were both placed in a temporary home together and the same age. Zach’s parents didn’t die like mine had. He didn’t know his father and his mother was put in jail for drug possession. We spent four months together, before she got out and regained custody of her son, leaving me all alone.
I hadn’t seen Zach in almost ten years before starting college. Each time I was sent to live with a new family, I always hoped that I would someday see him again, but it never happened. I will never forget walking into my English class on my very first day. I was running late because I am terrible with directions and ended up coming in when role was being called.
I dropped my bag as the door slammed on my ass and a very handsome guy came and helped me pick up my things. I should have recognized his smile, but I was too embarrassed to pay attention. He offered me the seat next to him just as they got to my name. I raised my hand and got myself situated in my chair. When I heard the name Zachary Miller, my eyes shot up and looked to the guy next to me, who was raising his hand.
At first I thought he didn’t remember me, until he reached over and squeezed my hand. I have to admit, I didn’t even remember anything the professor talked about, because all I wanted to do was talk to Zach. We passed notes during class and when it ended, we spent the next two hours catching up. Since that day we had been inseparable and he was my very best friend.
For the next couple of months I fell right into college life. My courses were rough, but I managed to stay on task and do well. Zach and I hung out and studied together as much as we could. He wasn’t that strapped to maintain a grade point average anymore. His mother married someone with money and got her life together. He had new siblings and a happy life, nothing like I had live.
I should have known that my life could never be perfect for long. Everything changed when I got the letter from the attorney’s office. I will never forget that day that everything I knew came crashing down over me.

Chapter 2

The people I played changed from day to day, but the game always remained the same. For as long as I could remember I’d been playing pool, or billiards if you want to get technical about it. What went from being a hobby with my friends had turned into an easy way to make a buck, or in my outlook, a way to break away from my family.
They weren’t that bad, but had always insisted I follow through with being a part of the family business. Since I was no good at school, and I had no intention of working alongside of my family, I left when I was seventeen and never looked back.
My friends and I used to hang out in the back of this local restaurant. They had two pool tables and the owner was pretty cool about us being there, instead of getting into other kinds of trouble. Baltimore City wasn’t exactly the safest place to bring up a kid. Since I was still alive and not in jail yet, I would say I was a success story. Don’t get me wrong, I know places like John’s Hopkins and major banks were located in the city, but for the most part, where I came from only consisted of lowlifes and panhandlers.
My parents had run a strip of businesses right off of Baltimore Street that consisted of a deli, a cleaners, and a check cashing establishment. They did well for themselves and even gave back to the community, but my father wasn’t always a straight businessman. He lied to my mother about things and when I discovered it, I wanted nothing more to do with him or what he was involved in.
It broke my mother’s heart, but it was better than telling her she was married to a liar. She was a kindhearted woman that thought the world of him. Far be it from me to take that away. I’d much rather her assume I was the fuck up instead.
When I left, right before my eighteenth birthday, I had saved about five hundred bucks. My plan was to take my beaten up Honda Civic to Pennsylvania and play in an Amateur Tournament and win big.
I got my ass handed to me in the first two matches and was eliminated. After just one day, I was just down to under four hundred bucks and knew that it was the only thing standing between me being independent, or going back home to my father.
After going outside and kicking the hell out of a few trashcans, and smoking a few cigs, I went back and watched the guys play that beat me so badly.
I knew I was a cocky guy, but I had honestly believed that I was pretty damn good. The men and even women in this tournament, blew me away. There was no way that I could shoot at the level they were.
That’s when I met Joker.
I was walking around, watching a few people play on a couple practice tables when he approached me. I recognized him right away as the second guy that handed me my ass. He tapped on my pool case that was hanging over my shoulder. “Where’d you get that stick kid?”
I hated being called kid, but since I’d lied about my age to get into the tournament, I knew I couldn’t argue. “Pawn shop.”
“You mind if I take a look at it?” We were in a crowded place and it wasn’t like he could take it and run. Still, since I had traded my stereo and all of my baseball cards, I wasn’t very keen on taking the chance.
“Why do you want to see it?”
He smiled and crossed his arms. “I noticed when you were shooting that the ferrule seems cracked. It can affect the way the tip hits the cue.”
“Yeah, kid, it’s the white part of the tip. You going to let me take a look or what?” After watching the dude play pool and now hearing about his knowledge of the stick, I reluctantly got my stick out and handed it to him. The stick unscrewed to fit in the case and he only needed the top shaft part of it. I waited patiently to hear what he was going to say. “It’s definitely cracked.” He showed me where. “Don’t you hear the difference when you take your shot?”
I shrugged. “I guess.” I really didn’t notice. I shot the game, but had no knowledge of sticks really.
“Look kid, my friends call me Joker. I have a shop about an hour from here and can get this fixed for you for about fifty bucks. If you want to improve, you need a stick that can shoot properly. I can take it and drop it off to whatever hotel you’re staying at, if you want. I’m coming back tomorrow.”
Hell no, I wasn’t leaving my stick with this stranger!
I grabbed the shaft out of his hand. “No thanks, no offense, but I don’t really know you.”
“I understand, listen if you change my mind, here is my card. I don’t have to shoot again until tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by and I can fix it up for you.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
We said our goodbyes and he went on his way. After watching a few more matches, and getting even more discouraged, I headed out to find a hotel room. To my dismay, they were all booked due to the tournament being in town. I was going to have to sleep in my car and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Since I knew I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to spend any money, I skipped dinner to go and have my stick repaired by the man they called Joker.
I plugged in the address on my phone and was soon sitting in front of a bar. After walking all the way around the building and not seeing another entrance, I walked inside. An old man was shining a glass behind the bar. “Can I help you, kid?”
What was with everyone calling me kid?
“A guy named Joker told me to come see him about getting a repair done.”
He shook his head. “Sure he did. Another charity case, I see. Take the hallway until you come to a set of stairs and go up. Knock three times and he’ll let you in.”
After finding the stairs and standing at the old beat up red metal door, I was reluctant to knock, but I had nothing better to do and I wasn’t about to let that old man downstairs laugh at me.
Joker answered the door promptly and smiled when he saw it was me. “Hey, kid, come on in. I was just cooking some dinner. You hungry?”
I followed him into the open studio type apartment. The smell of something cooking filled my nostrils and I realized just how hungry I was. “A little.”
He laughed and shook his head, while he grabbed an extra plate and sat it at the bar. After eating one of the best steaks I’d ever tasted, he got up and grabbed my stick, before taking it into another room. I finished eating and followed behind him. The room was set up with a couple machines. A few sanders were on one table and a bunch of long pieces of light wood were in a bin. “You make sticks?”
“Yep, as a hobby. It keeps my mind off of things when work’s slow.”
I walked around and looked at some of the finished sticks. The wood grain was amazing and I’d never felt a stick that was so smooth. “These are great.” I saw a price sticker and almost threw up my steak dinner. “Holy shit, this stick is two grand?” I put it back where it sat and backed away from the display case.
Joker shook his head and kept working. “You probably don’t want to know how much the other ones are. They can run you a pretty penny.”
He was staying on task and never looking up at me being so nosey. “You got a place to stay kid?”
I shook my head and looked down at the equipment. “Not really, but I was thinking about going home. I shot like shit and there’s nothing left for me to do.”
“I could use a hand around here. If you’re interested, I got an extra room in the back. It ain’t much, just a mattress on the floor, but it’s yours if you want it.”
This man was a stranger and aside from being really awesome at pool, I knew nothing about him. What I did know was that I wasn’t about to go home and face my father after failing so quickly. Did this guy know how desperate I was? I could be running from the law or something. While he slept, I could rob and kill him This was real life. “Why are you helping me?”
He smiled and shook his head. “My life had revolved around this game, kid. Let’s just say that if I could go back and change things, I would. Now, I just try to do the right things whenever I can. If I’m wrong about you, then don’t take offense, but I’m throwing you a bone and you can decide if you want to take it.”
After thinking about it for only a few seconds, I agreed to be Joker’s assistant, but in doing so, I had no idea that the man was going to change my life.
For the next year I worked alongside of Joker and learned how to make pool sticks during the day. At night, we’d shoot pool for hours and he taught me everything that I never even knew about billiards. I threw myself into my new lifestyle and learning how to get better. Eventually, I stopped talking to my friends and family and focused only on the game and my training. Even though there was the occasional times that Joker would have people over and older women would end up in my bed. Not that I ever complained about that. It was always no strings attached and even they had things to teach me.
Joker was also like a second father to me. Aside from him basically taking me in and giving me a job, he’d take me out to meet other pool players. He played high stakes games involving a lot of money. Some would even last over twenty four hours. Coffee became my best friend and the game was my infatuation.
There was so much more than making shots to the game. It took precision and being able to maneuver each and every shot in my mind. I learned about positioning the ball after every shot and lining myself up for safety’s and hard combinations.
Joker insisted on me not playing for money the whole first year that I lived with him. Since he had taught me so much, I respected his decision, but when Valley Forge came around again, we were both registered and I was ready to show the world of billiards my improvements. It was my second chance at redemption and I knew if I failed again, that I wouldn’t want to continue on the path I was headed. I loved the game, but had been humiliated before and I just wasn’t about to have it happen again.
I was so nervous when the day came, but managed to make it to the fifth round. Joker was still in the tournament as well, but he was waiting to play his next match and was acting as a coach for me. While the other guy I was playing was hiding my next shot, making it impossible for me to see my ball, I stood to the side contemplating what I was going to do.
I looked around the large room full of people. They were watching my match and I could feel the beads of sweat running down my forehead. I was nervous and this shot was going to determine if I won something, or nothing at all. Sure, I’d come far from how I shot the year before, but I wanted the candy pot and first place was where it sat.
Joker came up behind me and told me a shot I needed to take, but the idea of him making that decision pissed me off. I’d played the whole match without his help and I wanted to finish it that way too.
I went against his advice and tried a kick shot that was impossible to make. The cue ball missed the object ball within inches and the guy I was shooting ran out the rest of his balls like he could have done it with his eyes closed. The crowd of people cheered for the man that won, but all I could hear and see was Joker shaking his head and cussing at me.
I knew I should have listened, but I was too damn stubborn to do it.
When we got back home he screamed at me for having an attitude and blowing my chances of ever doing good. I was so pissed that I grabbed my things and left. I should have gone back, but never had the balls to admit that I was wrong.
I started traveling around, playing at bars for money and getting better with each game. The lifestyle took over and with only maybe three people that I called friends, I found myself thinking back to the man that helped me get where I was.
After five years, I was standing in front of the little bar owned by the guy that taught me everything I knew. I was ready to apologize to the man; to maybe have a clean slate with our friendship. It was something that I knew I needed to do.

Want to meet?


I will be at a few events in the next few months.


March 9th – Woodstock GA

June 29th – Orlando Florida (Book Bash)

August 15-20 – Naughty Mafia – Las Vegas

December ? – Richmond VA

I hope to see some of you at these events. ❤