Boy Toy Chronicles
Page 2

Anyways…we were stuck. The campus owned our house, and therefore, owned our balls. Sure, Pops wasn’t our only benefactor, but he was a huge chunk of it. After getting drunk one night and throwing shit at Sherman Junior’s mansion—literally, throwing shit—we came back to the house to brainstorm. Completely drunk off our asses, someone—I think it may have been Troy—said, “It’d be a lot easier if we got paid to get laid.” Of course at the time we laughed it off. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was vice president at the time. Conner, president, was a senior and kind of a jerk. He was done in a few months and didn’t give a shit about what would happen to the house and all of the brothers.
It was on my shoulders.
My responsibility.
And I wasn’t going to let anyone down. So…I came up with a plan. But I couldn’t do it on my own. I sat the brothers down and gave them my speech; we’d become male escorts.
The house was split.
The single dudes thought it was fucking great. The guys with the steady girlfriends told the single dudes they were fucking insane.
I promised them all we could make it work without hurting anybody. But we had to be smart about it. We had to keep it off campus. We had to keep it a secret. And in order to do so, we had to target those who wanted it kept a secret as much as we did.
Our target: Filthy rich, unsatisfied, horny housewives.
Keep it high class, so to speak.
We spent the night coming up with ideas, plans and rules. The rules were important. I’ll get to those later. I made them swear on an oath that this would never leave the house.
They all agreed.
And thus began BTC, or Boy Toy Corporation.
Crazy, right?
Crazy fucking genius.
CHAPTER TWO
My phone rings while I climb the stairs to my room.
Private number.
I hesitate a moment before answering. “Tyler West.”
Allie laughs on the other end. “So formal!”
“Why are you calling from a private number?”
She sighs into the phone.
I get in my room and shut the door behind me, then I strip the sex-stained clothes off me with one hand, the other still holding onto the phone. “What was that?” I ask.
“What?”
“You sighed. Why?”
“I didn’t sigh. I exhaled. There’s a difference.”
“Bullshit, Allie, we’ve been best friends since we were ten. I know when you sigh and when you exhale. You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?” she almost yells, her voice raising a pitch.
I spray deodorant all over my body, including my balls. “That thing where you want to tell me something but you know I’ll get mad so you just sigh and hope I force it out of you.”
“That’s not a thing, Tyler.”
“Are you going to tell me or not because I’m going to be late to class if I have to sit here and listen to you be a girl.”
“I am a girl!”
“Tick tock.”
“Fine.” She releases a breath. See? I know the difference. “My number’s on private because I thought Tim was cheating on me. He wouldn’t answer my calls—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupt. “You hid your number and he answered?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“About what?”
“Him cheating on you.”
“There’s no proof yet.”
“You have your proof already,” I tell her, walking to the closet to find a change of clothes.
“You’re right,” she says quietly, then perks up when she adds, “So I want to dress whore-ish and get him jealous. Can we Skype so you can check out my tits?”
I pause half way through putting on my jeans. “Sure,” I say, ignoring the awakening of North-West—that’s my dick’s name. Get it? Because it’s always up?
Never mind…
She hangs up and a moment later a Skype call comes through. Her profile picture flashes on the screen. It’s one from the last time we were together; her red hair flying around her face and her nose scrunched, hiding the freckles I know are there. I connect the call.
Allie’s tits.
That’s all I can see.
“Al?”
“Do they look good?”
“Uhh.”
She pulls the phone away so I can see her face. “You’re shirtless,” she says, eyebrows pinched.
“Yep. I was getting dressed.”
“Oh.” She drops her gaze and bites her lip.
Fuck, I miss her. “You look good, Al. But you shouldn’t need to dress in any way to make him jealous. Clearly, he’s a dick and you deserve better.”
She smiles, but she can’t hide the sadness in her eyes. I start to speak but there’s a knock on my door. “Hang on,” I tell Allie, opening the door.
Chase is on the other side, staring down at his phone. “Mrs. Fletcher wants—”
I clear my throat—cutting him off—and motion my head toward Allie on my screen.
“Shit,” Chase mumbles.
Allie’s smile widens.
“Hey, Chase!” she chirps, waving at him.
“Afternoon, Allie. It’s been a while since you’ve been around.”
Handing him the phone, I let them talk so I can finish getting dressed.
“How’s that virginity of yours going?” Allie laughs.
“Still in tact, thank you for asking.”