Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 135

CLINT’s POV

I slumped onto the barstool, my back hunched over, and my head hung low. My hands shook slightly as I picked up the wine glass, the deep red liquid sloshing around inside. I brought the glass to my lips and chugged the wine down, hoping the alcohol would take away the crushing weight of my depression.

As the alcohol burned down my throat, I could not help but repeatedly replay the conversation with Keira. I knew it would be difficult, but I never expected it to be this bad. The pain in her eyes as she cried, the hurt and betrayal she must have felt, made me feel sick.

I took another sip of the wine, letting the flavors wash over my tongue, trying to numb my pain. But it was useless; the sadness and guilt were still there, festering inside me like a disease. I had hurt Keira, the one person I loved the most in the world, and it tore me apart.

The situation was taking a toll on me mentally, the weight of it all bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. Losing my seat as a board member in Kane’s company was devastating. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain that I felt for losing Keira herself.

Why had I lashed out at her like that? Why had I said words I did not mean? It was not her fault.

When Keira showed up at my doorstep, I wanted to wrap my hands around her; I wanted to feel the warmth of her body comfort me.

But I felt disgusted with myself at our relationship. I felt like I had indeed taken advantage of her.

I let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of my sadness and guilt pressing down on me like a physical force. As much as I wanted to drown my sorrows in the wine, I knew it would not solve anything. The only thing that could fix the situation was time, and even that seemed like it would be a long, painful road.

I did not want to take that road, so I resorted to wine like always. It was a bad habit I could not fix.

I continued to drink, the wine glass becoming a constant companion in my hand. With each sip, I felt the sadness slip away, replaced by a warm, comforting numbness. It was a dangerous game, but it was the only option in my current state.

As I continued to drink, I could feel the world around me starting to spin. My vision blurred, and I had to hold onto the barstool to avoid falling off. My head felt heavy, and my limbs were like lead, making moving difficult.

I stumbled over to the living room sofa, collapsing with a thud. The soft cushions engulfed me, and I g*****d in relief. The world around me continued spinning, and I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness would bring some relief.

°°°°°

I woke up to my phone ringing, the shrill tone piercing through the fog of my alcohol-induced sleep. I g*****d, the pounding in my head making me regret drinking so much.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. When I finally managed to pick it up, I had to squint to make out the caller ID. It was my secretary, and seeing her name on the screen made me g***n even louder.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice rough and hoarse.

“Good morning, Mr. Homer,” my secretary said, her tone formal and clipped. “I am sorry to bother you, but you are three hours late for work.”

My eyes widened in shock, and the fog in my brain slowly cleared. Three hours late? How had I managed to sleep for so long? I looked around the living room, trying to replace a clock. When my eyes finally landed on the wall clock, I realized it was already noon.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “I am so sorry. I will be there as soon as I can.”

I could hear the disapproval in my secretary’s voice as she replied. “Very well, Mr. Homer. Please try to make it as soon as possible.”

I hung up the phone, feeling a sense of shame and embarrassment wash over me. How had I let myself get to this point? I stumbled to my feet, my head still pounding as I tried to gather my thoughts. I knew I had to get to work, but the task seemed daunting in my current state.

°°°°

I stumbled into my office, my head still pounding from the night before. As I settled into my chair, I glanced at my calendar, dreading the day ahead. I had a full schedule of therapy sessions with my regular clients, but as I scrolled through my emails, I saw several of them had canceled.

My heart sank as I read through the messages. “I am sorry, Clint, but I do not feel comfortable seeing you anymore,” one email said.

“I do not want to be associated with the scandal.” “I am afraid I will lose my job if my boss replaces out I am still seeing you.” Another read.

My heart sank as I read each of them one by one.

I was drenched in sadness, the weight of the scandal becoming too much to bear. I had worked with these clients for years, helping them through their struggles and pain. They were pulling away from me because of a stupid mistake.

I tried to shake off the feeling, reminding myself I still had other clients that needed my help. But with each cancellation, I felt myself spiraling down further into despair. I had always prided myself on being an excellent therapist, but now it seemed like everything was slipping away.

I slumped in my chair, the weight of the new situation bearing on me. The silence in my office was suffocating, and I longed for the sound of someone’s voice, not just anyone’s voice, but Keira’s. I knew I was alone in this and had brought this upon myself.

Looking around my office, I could not help but think of Keira. The couch where she would usually sit during our sessions, the shelf where her recommended reading material came from, and the desk I sat behind as we discussed her progress. Everything in the room reminded me of her.

I buried my face in my hands, pushing away the cascading emotions. But no matter how hard I tried, they continued to consume me.