by Katie Ford
“Sorry Mr. Parker,” she said apologetically, her plump form clad in an apron. “Violet has been very sad lately, very difficult. Have you thought about taking her to a psychologist?”
I was stunned. My little girl needed mental help? Therapy even? Hell no! Suddenly I was overwhelmingly angry with my ex, really pissed that she’d done this, dropping her daughter like a hot coal without a thought for her well-being. And what the fuck was I going to do? I needed to work, I had shit to do, money to make, a household to support. But I couldn’t persuade Mrs. Bee to stay despite the desperate tone in my voice.
“Please,” I growled, “I’ll double your salary, even triple.”
The old woman shook her head regretfully.
“No, Mr. Parker, I’m too old and your daughter’s more than I can handle. You need someone else, someone young with more energy.”
I shook my head, frustrated. Where the fuck was I going to find someone on such short notice? Fuck, I was fucking screwed, and nothing I could say would change Mrs. Bee’s mind. But frankly, I didn’t blame her, Violet’s been so tough recently.
So after closing the door, I sat on the steps of the staircase, crouching, exhausted. It was just me and my girl, and the huge mansion seemed depressing all of sudden, gigantic and empty. Shit, maybe we should move to the city, all my daughter and I needed was a small apartment, we’d be fine without these extra rooms, spaces no one ever set foot in.
But at that moment, Violet wandered into the foyer, tear-stained with a stuffed animal clutched in her hands, and said, “Daddy?”
And I swept her into my arms. I couldn’t move my daughter, not now. Not after all the changes she’d gone through, this place was the only home Violet knew. So I resolved to make life as good for her as possible.
And it’s turned out okay, surprisingly. Violet goes to daycare for a half-day now, and I take care of her on my own for the rest of the afternoon. Fortunately, I’m an entrepreneur who makes my own hours, so it’s no problem. Getting my daughter onto a schedule, into a stable routine was more important than the fat cats who pay me the big bucks.
But I hadn’t had a break for months, and the rigid schedule was wearing me down. So when I heard that Mandy was back in town, I immediately dialed her parents’ house. Lo and behold, the teen was still babysitting and was happy to come over, even on short notice.
So yeah, Mandy’s a lifesaver. My little girl had leapt immediately into the curvy brunette’s arms, looking like she belonged there, some peace in my house after months of chaos. And it looked so right, so amazing, that I almost canceled my date, texting Alexandria to tell her something came up.
But I couldn’t because Alexandria’s been nagging me for months to get out, and if I canceled I’d never hear the end of it with endless whiny voicemails, pleading emails, and countless messages left with my secretary. So yeah, now I’m stuck meeting the woman at a restaurant, one of those places where entrees cost thirty bucks, of which Alexandria would eat approximately one fifth and then wave the rest off, focusing on her wine. She’s one of those high-maintenance types, the kind with weekly appointments at the salon for hair and nails, always seen with vampy red lipstick even when working out. In my old life, I would have been fine with it, hell, this used to be my “type.” But something’s changed since, I’m not into it anymore. It just seems empty, really fake and shallow now.
So I showed up at the restaurant, not expecting much, and Alexandria didn’t disappoint. She was six feet tall in those heels, dressed in some kind of slinky dress that was part-haute couture, part-showgirl.
“Hiya,” she purred, her green eyes running all over my big form. “How are you, Pete? Long time no see.”
I grunted low in my throat before giving her a peck on the cheek.
“Great,” I rumbled. “And you?”
She laughed throatily.
“I’m good, we haven’t seen each other, in what, six years?”
And I nodded. Yeah, I’d dated Alexandria before settling down with Vivian, and six years sounded about right.
“Guess life repeats itself, huh?” I ground out.
“Oh yes, it does indeed,” she purred meaningfully, running a long red nail down my sleeve. At that moment, the hostess called our name, leading us to the table, but like I said, Alexandria hasn’t changed at all.
“We can’t sit here!” she exclaimed, looking down at the table. It was set beautifully with white linen and a bouquet of flowers, silverware sparkling in the low light. There was nothing wrong. But Alexandria purred, “I want to be out in the open, you know see and be seen.”
And my stomach dropped. Fuck, this was one of the reasons why I’d stopped seeing the blonde, this need to be seen at all the right places, the right events, groomed to the nines on the arm of a powerful man. Couldn’t we just have a nice dinner in the corner? There was a beautiful view of the water, stars sparkling in the twilight.
But Alexandria wasn’t one for natural beauty, she was a social vampire and nothing but “the best” was enough her. So I turned to the hostess and pressed a fifty into her hand.
“Another table?” I rumbled.
And the woman’s eyes lit up.
“Of course, of course, let me see what else there is,” she said, looking around the restaurant. Fortunately it was pretty empty and she led us over a huge table right in the middle where you had a clear view of all the guests, a three sixty sightline.
“Oh this is perfect!” gushed Alexandria. “Thank you so much.”
And I grunted, settling into the booth. This dinner was gonna be fucking painful, I could tell, dating is overrated. But I forced myself to eat and talk, looking exactly like an alpha enjoying himself with a beautiful woman.
“And then,” Alexandria said, leaning over conspiratorially, “Patty was locked in the bathroom, did you hear?”
I shook my head. Honestly the blonde’s babble was so annoying, like a bee that never stopped buzzing, and I’d tuned her out, nodding at all the right moments, but barely responsive.
“Oh you!” she breathed. “Of course you heard, Patty Martin was locked into her bathroom by her own husband because he suspected her of cheating with Grady Owens, his frat brother from college. Isn’t that so juicy? Oh my god!” she squealed.
I forced myself to look interested although this women’s gossip was so fucking boring.
“Oh really? How did he know she was cheating?” I asked smoothly.
“I told you!” Alexandria squealed once more. “He found a pair of boxers in their laundry basket with another man’s semen stains!” she chortled, laughing so hard.
This was fucking disgusting on so many levels. First, the thought of another guy’s dirty laundry was just fucked up, that shit was nasty. Second, semen stains? Who the fuck was dumb enough to chuck that into someone else’s laundry? And last, Alexandria herself, the dumb bitch was cackling loudly at her “friend’s” misfortune, relishing this Patty person’s problems. Even though I’m no angel, at least I keep to myself instead of busting up like a barrel of monkeys in the middle of a nice restaurant.
Because other patrons were turning to look at us now, the blonde’s laughter so raucous, so loud that they couldn’t help but glance over. And Alexandria made the most of it, leaning in close to me, bending that blonde head towards mine to make it look like we were in love, a gorgeous couple dressed right, eating at the right place, powerful and wealthy.
“It’s so nice to be back together, isn’t it Pete?” she cooed, stroking my arm with those red nails.
Bile rose in my throat then, a nasty taste in my mouth because this woman was the opposite of sexy, someone who drained me of all energy. But I forced myself to keep up the farce, to smile and say smoothly, “Of course, it’s nice to spend time together again.”
And she tossed her hair back flirtatiously then, green eyes gleaming like a cat.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” she cooed. “Like soon, real soon.”
My blood curdled, this woma
n would hunt me for dinner if she could, eating my bank account as dessert. So I made excuses.
“We’ll see,” I rumbled. “My daughter needs a lot these days, I’m a single dad now.”
And Alexandria laughed lightly.
“Oh I know all about kids!” she jested. “They love me, they love Aunty Alex.”
I shook my head with disbelief. There was no way kids liked her, it’s more like they ran screaming when they saw the Wicked Witch of the West with her fanged smile and pointy hat. But I nodded, giving nothing away.
“Sure you do, sure you do,” I rumbled. “Check please.”
And the waiter, ever accommodating, immediately nodded and scurried off to do my bidding. I leaned back in my chair, picking up the cloth napkin and putting it on the table. God, this dinner had been horrendous, really painful, and I was looking forward to getting back and seeing Mandy. I mean, seeing Violet. Right, my daughter, not the babysitter.
But unbelievably, there was a touch on my knee under the table.
“Wanna play tonight?” cooed Alexandria, looking up at me flirtatiously through her lashes. “Wanna play, big boy?”
I shook my head, trying not to look disgusted because the waiter had just come back with our tab and overheard every word of her come-on. I waited until he left, and then covered her hand with my own, stopping its ascent up my knee.
“Not tonight, baby, not tonight,” I rumbled. “I have an early meeting tomorrow morning, this isn’t a good time.”
Alexandria just cooed again.
“Oh you, men always have to work,” she gushed. “Well, next time then. How about tomorrow?” she asked, eyes sparkling brightly, conniving.
And I shook my head imperceptibly.
“Sorry babe, got a packed week ahead. I’ll call you,” I said with finality. And with that, I stood, ushering the blonde out of the restaurant, heads turning as we made our way to the door. I have to admit that we were a sight to see, both of us tall, physically attractive, Alexandria wearing obviously expensive clothes and jewelry, her face made-up like a doll. But all I wanted was someone natural, a little less calculating, with no agenda. Someone innocent and sweet, with a good heart and gentle disposition. And I had a feeling that someone was at my house right now … waiting for me to come home.
CHAPTER THREE
Mandy
It was exhausting getting Violet to bed, I admit. I’ve been babysitting the little girl for years, but in my four months away she’d become a handful.
“No Mandy,” she commanded imperiously, small voice firm. “You.”
I sighed again.
“Violet honey, this is your bed, I don’t sleep here, remember? I stay with my mom and dad at another house.”
And the little girl’s eyes began welling, bottom lip trembling, blue eyes so sorrowful it tore at my heart.
“Mandy, you!” she begged again.
This time, I gave in. God knows the little tyke had had enough upheaval recently, so I rested my head for a minute on the pillow next to hers, relaxing.
“Shhh,” I said in a soothing voice. “Okay, I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
And the little girl cuddled up next to me, teddy clutched in her hands.
“Sing,” she said in a small voice. And obediently, I began to hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star softly, repeating until her breathing stilled, calming, the little body no longer tense. Poor thing. I really loved her, she was practically my baby, I’d known her since birth, watching her grow.
But I couldn’t stay in the small child’s bed all night, so I made myself get up and stretch. Violet’s room was decorated beautifully with lavender walls and stickers of the moon and stars that glowed-in-the-dark, perfect for a growing girl. And the books on the shelf were age appropriate, her toys right for a five year-old. Had Pete chosen those out for his daughter? He must have been spending a lot of time, picking up the slack now that the old nanny was gone.
As I wandered out into the hall, I let out another yawn. Finals had been tough, really challenging. College was kind of a toss-up for me. On the one hand, I should have been ecstatic, I got into my first choice school, a place with name recognition up the wazoo and brand prestige. But that stuff only goes so far because just like any other school, there were so many powerpoint lectures, slides that seemed to go on forever, and teachers that couldn’t even teach, they were hired for their research skills, not their ability to connect with undergrads.
But I scolded myself. I was lucky to be in college, and it was just finals that was doing this to me. I was worn out from weeks of stress and studying, and Mr. Parker had called my parents’ house the day that I got back about babysitting. I was just tired, that was all, and a bubble bath would soothe my achy muscles, dispel the tension in my back.
I glanced at my watch. Oh good, it was only eight, Mr. Parker had said he needed my services until nine. So I had plenty of time to get naked and relax, enjoy myself for an hour before heading home.
So wandering down the hallway, I came to ornate double doors that indicated the master bedroom suite. Oh my god, should I take a bath in his room? The thought titillated me, being in his private space, using the same soap and shampoo that the alpha male sudsed himself with.
But something stopped me. Maybe it was knowing that his ex-wife had once lived there, maybe it was my virginal instincts, but my hand paused on the knob, hesitating. Better not. Better to find another bathroom, there were plenty in this giant mansion.
So I tiptoed down the hall some more before coming to a guest suite, slowly creaking open the door. Oh, this was perfect. The bedroom was dark so I couldn’t see much except for a big bed and some looming, ominous furniture, but that didn’t matter. I padded softly through the room to the en suite and flipped the switch there, the lights coming on bright with a slight hum.
It was perfect. A huge garden tub sprawled in the corner, shiny and unused, with a separate shower on the other side. Just like everything in this house, the fixtures were ornate, the spigot a glossy gold color, the tub porcelain and bright white, almost blinding me.
And sighing with relief, I stripped. I wriggled out of my sweater, throwing it into a corner, and jumped a bit to get my skirt over my hips. Oh yeah, I’d put on significant weight in the past year and the freshman fifteen had come entirely in the first semester for me. So yeah, if I didn’t watch it, a new wardrobe would be in order.
But it was okay. Years of being twig-like made me appreciate my bountiful figure all the more, and I stared at myself in the mirror, eyes taking in my curvy form. Because yeah, I was wearing the sexiest, slinkiest bra and panty set ever. Blush pink with lace trimming the edges, the set was so sheer that you could see the dark imprints of my areola underneath, the plush lips of my labia outlined clearly. So with sensual hands, I unsnapped my bra, slipping the straps over my shoulders until the cups fell off, revealing my giant breasts, and slowly stepped out of my panties, pulling them off until my pink cunt was revealed.
God, the physical transformation had been amazing. I was white and pink all over, my nether regions glossy and slick and tentatively, I ran a finger between my legs. Yep, it came away slightly juicy. I didn’t know what was wrong with me these days, I was no longer the studious high school student with her head stuck in the books all the time. Instead, I was often so wet that I had to change my panties two or three times a day just so my fellow students didn’t smell my constant arousal, the sensuous female in their midst.
But it was time to let loose here in complete privacy, and not to worry about who was where thinking what. So I turned on the spigot and a hot, white gush of bubbles streamed out. I looked around haphazardly, under the sink, in the medicine cabinet, hoping against hope. Nah, there’d be no bubble bath formula in a guest bathroom, there was probably nothing since no one lived here. I’d have to make do with some water, and the little bit of hand soap over by the sink. But hey, the soap was some fancy French stuff and I pumped a couple squirts from the dispenser, the pearly liqu
id bubbling for a moment before dissipating. Okay, there’d be no foam, but at least the water was slick now, giving the bath a luxurious, sensual feel.
And pinning my hair up, I stepped in. Oh god, the warm water felt so good, lapping against my muscles, immediately soothing me. It was like I was immersed in a slick ocean, the water buffeting my form, caressing me in every direction. My boobs bobbled in the waves, only half hidden, my pink areola peeking out, and the warm liquid caressed my folds down below.
Leaning back, my head settled comfortably into the built-in headrest. I sighed. God, this was the life. What would it be like to live here full-time, to have a man like Mr. Parker coming home each evening, eating dinner together, playing with Violet before turning in for a scorching night of love? That sounded like pure heaven to me, like a dream come true, something I could only fantasize about.
And the beauty of fantasies is that they can be vivid, so I let my imagination run. Because sure, I’m a virgin but that doesn’t mean I don’t have fun on my own, there are all sorts of personal toys that I use when the need begins to burn. And being here, in Mr. Parker’s house had its own titillating edge that sent shivers down my spine.