Page 32 of Savage Daddies

A large wall towers into the sky, blocking the gated area off from the rest of the street. We use it to conceal our presence for a moment as Bullwhip, sitting sideways on his Harley, deactivates the camera system from his phone.

He inputs a long code into his phone, and then all of the green circles on his phone screen unloop to reshape into red crosses.

“It’s done.” He climbs off his bike and balances it against the wall with mine and Wrangler’s. “In and out. Very important. Felix Fernando has all the money in the world and, according to Zoe yesterday, a very large media presence. If we upsetoneof them, all he has to do is set up a camera and name-drop us.” His long face elongates even more. “That could be the end of Venom Vultures.”

Quite a dramatic monologue.

I joined the club for the adrenaline rush, and to experience life behind the scenes for a change. Not to walk with caution every step of the way.

As morbid as the guy can sometimes be, though, I know it’s the truth.

Fun, but not too much.

I curl my hand around the gate and lift up my body, foot planted between two black metal bars as I continue to climb. Reaching the top, I launch myself over and land with bent knees, recovering from a drop that I’d scaled to be shorter.

Loose gravel crunches underfoot until we make it onto the polished marble driveway. An arch rounds over the right side of the building, connecting it to the left. Roman style pillars stretch from roof to floor, there for decoration to give the complex some character. Felix would definitely be the type of guy to sit in bed at night studying Roman Empire technicalities.

We advance to the right side of the building and tug on the solid wood door—locked, of course.

A screen mirrors all three of our faces, and god, I look dreadful.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Sleep is the secret to looking well, and last night I caught only minutes of it—too busy wrapping a hand around my cock, pretending it was Zoe on the bike finishing me off.

And now I’m at her house.

“Great start.” Wrangler turns to Bullwhip. “Can’t you hack into it? Allow us entry?”

“It’s encrypted. And besides,” says Bullwhip, “it’s a different system that my software doesn’t recognize.”

“Your software can suck ass, then,” grunts Wrangler.

We put ourselves at risk standing here like withered lemons. We’re gonna get caught, and I’d rather not piss off Zoe and her stinking rich husband if I can help it.

But…some useful knowledge could present itself inside the house that might save her. We need to enter, and soon, before Felix leaves Cash Pot Palace and returns home.

I look up to admire the architecture. Structurally, it’s genius.

That’s when I see an opened window rolled up enough for us to dive in. I click my fingers to get the other two’s attention and mouth, “In there.”

“You think I’m Spiderman?” says Bully.

“You’re the tallest one here,” I say. “Give us a hoist.”

“If Felix catches us climbing up his wall, I don’t?—”

“Jesus, it’s only two stories high.” Wrangler rolls up his sleeves and claps his hands. “I’ll go first.” Elongating his body, he reaches to grip a sandstone brick, and heaves the rest of himself up with gritted teeth.

Two more pull-ups, and he’s done.

All in a day’s work for a rancher.

“Holy shit,” he calls, sticking his head out of the window. “It’s Zoe’s room.”

I prepare to go next, but Bullwhip shoves me off and races up the wall like Spiderman reincarnated to roll in through the window second.

I heave myself up last. It’s a challenge.

I imagine the headlines:“Former teacher resorts to climbing Zoe Fernando’s tower after the ex-student fails to let down her hair.”

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