Disclaimers: This work is a work of fiction and is my property.
The story and characters are fictitious and any resemblance to anyone or any actual event is coincidental. There are three distinctly different main characters that will appear as the story progresses.
You should be legally allowed to read this type of material before continuing.
As it is based on an actual book, I had published a few years ago – free for your enjoyment – the story will not contain explicit material in all the chapters BUT don't fret, as it is more the exception than the rule.
Note that there will be a violent scenario. If this will trigger any trauma for you, please be aware of it before you start reading.
Please direct any comments or feedback to my email address at davidrolsynauthor2019@gmail.com.
Enjoy! And remember to donate to Nifty!
CHAPTER ONE
Jameson (James) Leonard
After having just landed at the Cape Town International Airport, and passed through immigration, I'm aiming for the baggage area to collect my two suitcases off the conveyor belt.
It's my first time in Cape Town, or even Africa for that matter, and I'm not sure what to expect. I've read so much about this amazing country's history, in preparation for my trip, but on the flipside, also noticed that violent crime seems to dominate the headlines.
I'm sure I'll be ok though, considering it's only for a short period and when I was originally invited, I couldn't let this opportunity pass me by.
As a thirty-four-year-old motivational speaker, I especially focus on inspiring young executives to develop their own personal brands and use social networks to further their careers and prospects.
Due to my professional reputation and network, the local business chamber invited me over four months ago to come and do a talk for them.
I decided, then and there, that it would be better if I also use this chance to come and experience this beautiful city for myself. Mainly, because some of the guys back home, who have all been here before, told me that I would love Cape Town. They also suggested that I make a small vacation of it at the same time. Telling me it would be so worth it.
Then again, some of them gay, enticed me further by mentioning that the Capetonian men were hot.
I certainly hope so.
After I'd sent the business chamber my fee and conditions for coming, thinking they'd take one look and change their mind, they surprised me by replying almost immediately, to say they're ok with it. The next thing I know, I received confirmation of my flights with my accommodation, meals and visa sorted for the four days I'm to be here.
Since everything seemed to fall in place, I booked another hotel in Camps Bay, for after the gig, to spend another three weeks, and take my friends up on their advice.
Especially my gay ones.
Who knows, maybe the locals would be just what I need. It's been a bit of a slump lately in the bedroom arena.
My work's in any case my own and I'm able to update my social media and blog, on a daily basis, from anywhere in the world, as longs as there's Wi-Fi. So, I won't lose any momentum, financially speaking. Just as long as I remain relevant and connected.
Come to think of it, I wasn't always this organised and gregarious.
Growing up in an orphanage in Trenton, New Jersey. Thanks to my biological mother leaving me in the reception of a local church, when I was only a few days old, caused my first few years on earth to be isolated and scary. Not feeling wanted by anyone and being consistently reminded that I was a burden by the orphanage staff, didn't help matters either.
Then, when I went into foster care at age six, I started building my confidence a little. I was more extroverted and grateful to be in a normal house with at least a kind mother and father, even if they were only foster parents and could change their mind about having me live with them, at any time.
My biological mother never tried to contact me and I'm not sure what happened to her. She may have been arrested for abandoning me but I'm not sure and couldn't care less either.
Luckily, my foster parents eventually adopted me and my surname was changed from Redding to Leonard. That was the happiest day of my childhood.
But ... as I got older, things became a little strained between me and my dad. It became clear to my parents that I wasn't like the other boys and preferred spending time with the girls. My mom shrugged it off but my dad didn't seem to want to deal with the fact that I was different. He simply tried to avoid me as much as possible.
Then, at age ten, I started hanging out with the boys but not because I wanted to play sport with them or anything that normal ten-year-old boys get up to, no, I had my nose in books. But, because I liked being around them. They fascinated me.
At home, I'd talk non-stop about some new boy to my parents and my dad would become more and more short-tempered, whenever I would do that.
To make matters worse, I started putting up posters of male superheroes and pop stars on my bedroom walls. It may have been normal for some boys or even nerds but, in my case, these photos were very provocative and sexy.
My dad then started ignoring me flat out and I, of course, naively so, kept wanting more of his attention and affection.
Then, just as I was a little more than thirteen years old, my dad started acting differently around me. He would walk around naked in front of me when my mother was away on business and later on even started sporting a boner when he was doing so, not making any attempt to hide it.
It made me uncomfortable but I didn't know how to tell him that. I hadn't realised at the time that I was actually good looking for my age. Athletic and tall, with golden blond hair and blue eyes.
These days my hair is slightly darker and I'm quite burly.
Trying to ignore my father's weird behaviour, didn't help much and then, one night, he came into my room while my mother was attending a conference in Arizona and asked me to suck him off.
I was surprised as fuck. By then, I'd never done anything sexual with a boy before and even though I would masturbate to a memory of some cute guy I'd happen to see naked after PE, I was afraid and nervous.
This was my dad, for fucks sake.
What made it even more confusing was that I was aroused and curious about it at the same time. He took that as a sign that I was willing and exploited me for it.
So, that's how the bj's started and my dad would often get me to suck him off whenever my mom was out of town.
I actually became good at it and just accepted things the way they were. At least I had my dad's attention.
Then, when I was seventeen, on one Tuesday night, my life changed dramatically. Having developed more so into an attractive young guy by then, my dad told me that he wanted to fuck me.
Of course, I told him no, mainly because I wasn't ready and honestly a little afraid of the idea. The thought of something that big going up my tiny asshole was frightening. He ignored me and I tried fighting him off but, in the end, he went ahead and raped me instead. This he continued doing whenever he got me alone.
Not once did I give him my consent.
I started to keep to myself and this affected my life at school. Despised by the kids and teachers for my grumpiness and rude behaviour, I never reported what he was doing to either my mom, the school or even the cops. He had, earlier on, threatened to send me back into the system or even kill me if I ever told anyone.
And, I believed him.
This went on until after I turned eighteen and left to study journalism at a college in Oklahoma. My mom's parents lived there and had invited me to go stay with them. It was actually my idea. I had to get away and they were always so kind to me.
My dad was vehemently opposed to me moving so far away but my mom thought it was a brilliant idea, a way for me to learn to stand on my own two feet. First, by staying with my grandparents and then hopefully moving into my own place, as time went on.
So, I left home and, though I spoke to my mom at least once a week, I never went back for a visit and didn't telephone my dad at all. He, however, phoned me on one occasion, wanting to come and visit me but I told him no and that I was helping my granddad in his furniture business after classes and on weekends.
My dad was nervous about the fact that I was around my grandparents and probably wasn't sure that he'd get an opportunity to rape me. The chance of getting caught was too much of a risk for him.
Having finished college, I went on to complete my degree in media studies at the University of Oklahoma. It was also during this time that I bought a gym membership and built my body up so that I'd never allow someone to violate me like that again.
There were of course other benefits too. My various sexual partners over the years can attest to that.
When my mom insisted I go back home for thanksgiving, I caved and went to visit them. On the second day home, after my dad treated me like crap, I confronted him about the sick shit he'd done to me, while my mom was in the house.
He tried to attack me but I beat the shit out of him. So much so, that he ended up cowering in the corner of the living room with a bloody mess for a face. My time in the gym had finally paid off.
With anew personal confidence and disdain for the pig, I threatened to lay a charge of child abuse against him if he ever so much as came near me or tried to contact me again. My mom was devastated and sobbed her eyes out.
She called me two days later to apologize for not having been around to protect me and told me she'd kicked him out after I'd left. I told her that I never thought that it'd been her fault and that she should forgive herself.
It took a while but when she finally accepted that she wasn't really to blame, we kept in contact and I still visit her whenever I get the chance.
After completing my degree, I moved into a rental apartment in Park Slope, New York, as my grandparents insisted on helping me financially to move there and get settled in. Even though, I was starting a new job at a prestigious publisher and had the means to do it on my own.
Once I was done paying my dues, I penned a few motivational books about personal branding and went out to make a success on my own.
Now, its nearly a decade later and I'm still doing what I love. I have a few rich clients whose personal brands I manage and am not doing bad for myself by any means.
I decided to remain in that same apartment, liking the freedom to pack up and move elsewhere if one day the desire to do so should grab me.
I hail a cab to take me to the hotel near the Cape Town Convention Centre.
On the way there, I realize that my life in New York and my troubled childhood feels like a million miles away.
What adventures await me in this famous city?