“I can wash it out myself,” he said in exasperation, reaching for the shampoo. After lathering it twice and rinsing, Paul sat back down, crossed his arms, and protruded his lips.
“I can see you’re already starting to take on his facial expressions,” Michele observed, withholding the urge to cackle. Reaching for the hairdryer, she instantly began blow-drying his hair. After it was completely dry, she applied some mousse and combed Paul’s hair toward the front. Taking a step back, she angled her head, admiring her handiwork. “See what you think, Mr. Trump.”
Paul twisted around and instantly glared at his image in the mirror. Angling his head in several different directions, he finally said, “I have to admit it looks pretty authentic. But maybe I ought to make an appointment with a hair salon for bright and early Monday morning.”
“I don’t think too many stylists work on Mondays.”
After another glance in the mirror, he looked over at her. “No offense, but I intend to start searching the Internet for one today!”
* * *
The next afternoon, Michele sat in the kitchen and smiled at her husband as he walked through the door after his Saturday appointment.
“We’re due to be at the party in an hour, so I have everything laid out on the bed that we need to wear. Was your hair a hit at the office, Donald?” Michele joked as she walked out of the room.
“Let’s just say no one working in the building today will ever let me forget it.”
Michele happily hustled upstairs to begin her makeover. Donning her skin-tight, strapless mini-dress was first on the agenda. After easing it over her head, she shimmied the stretchy black fabric over her ample breasts before pulling it down to cover her plump behind. Quickly admiring the brand new four-inch black suede stiletto heels with an ankle strap, she plucked them out of the box and slipped one over each small foot. Hobbling over to the mirror, Michele smoothed the dress, thinking about her next challenge, which was displayed on a Styrofoam stand atop her dresser. The shoulder-length blond wig was certainly an extravagance, but it would be the pièce de résistance of her costume, and within fifteen minutes of adjustments and strategic tucks, she finally had it in place. Almost done. After clasping the faux diamond pendant behind her neck, she then reached for her new satchel, slipped it over an elbow and stood in front of the mirror. Damn, I forgot the lipstick and the cologne. Carefully applying the red matte color to her lips, she smacked them together loudly and flipped her hair to apply a few droplets of perfume on her neck. Studying herself in the full-length mirror once again, she nodded.
“It’s show time!”
Not yet comfortable with the height of the stilettos, Michele carefully descended the stairs. As she reached the bottom, Paul, dressed in his pin-striped dark gray suit and red tie, outstretched a hand.
“My God, you do look stunning and smell delicious. What is that scent you’re wearing?” he asked while placing a long Burberry cape over her shoulders.
“Why, thank you! It’s my own fragrance, of course.”
As they walked out the door, Paul turned to Michele. “That’s a fake diamond, right?
“Yes, daddy.”
* * *
“Are you going to answer your phone?” Paul asked as he parked along the curb of the Kurlses’ front yard.
“It’s my dad.” Michele heaved a heavy sigh while staring at the screen. “I’ll call him back later.”
“Maybe he needs something. Do you think it’s wise to ignore his call?”
“After he leaves a message, I’ll put it on speakerphone, so we can both hear. That way, I don’t have to talk with him, but we can make sure nothing’s wrong.”
Paul inhaled a deep calming breath before turning off the ignition. “I really wish things were better between the two of you.”
“I do, too.” Michele lifted both shoulders up as she stared at the phone screen. “Ahh, here’s the message he left.”
“Hi, Michele. A little birdie told me you and Paul were going to a Halloween party tonight dressed as Donald and Ivanka Trump. I just wanted to wish you a good time. Call me.”
She silenced her phone and slipped it back into her small handbag without making eye contact with her husband. “See, he’s just fine.”
“It’s obvious he’s reaching out to you. Why can’t you meet him halfway?”
“Come on, Paul, you know there’s a wall between me and my dad. Can we please not do this now?”
Paul thought about his next sentence and spoke carefully. “You’re right, let’s go enjoy the party. But this conversation is on hold for another time. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Paul turned to exit the car, she smiled and saluted.
“Like I said, we’ll discuss this another time.” Paul turned his head and returned the smile.
Chapter Twelve
“For God’s sake, look who came to our party—Donald and Ivanka Trump!” Marsha exclaimed as she opened the front door to greet her friends.
“I can’t believe who our hosts are,” Paul said, laughing. “Hillary and Bill Clinton.”
Michele and Paul posed together as Dave pulled out his cellphone to take their picture. “You two look fantastic! Your hair definitely made the outfits,” Dave commented as he waved for both of them to enter the house. “Come on in. Everyone has been dying to see your costumes!”
“Marsha! How many people did you blab to that we were coming as Donald and Ivanka?” Michele asked, tilting her head.
Marsha shot a sheepish look to her husband.
“Don’t involve me, cupcake. You need to take responsibility for that sweet little wagging tongue,” Dave scolded, shaking his finger at her.
“No worries, Marsha. And I hate to change the subject, but you know it isn’t my thing to come to a party emptyhanded, and I’m feeling bad about it,” Michele said as Marsha linked arms with her.
“I had everything catered, so don’t worry about a thing. Let’s go see the bartender. You look like you could use a drink, my friend,” Marsha said, leading her friend away arm in arm.
Paul cleared his throat loudly and the two women turned around. “Just a minute, my darling daughter. Remember what we talked about. Behave yourself, please.”
Marsha’s arms crossed as she rolled her eyes. “I know you’re role playing, but surely you’re going to let her drink tonight. It’s an adult party.”
Paul crossed his arms to mirror Marsha’s and took one step forward. “Donald Trump doesn’t drink and his daughter won’t be indulging either.”
“Don’t get involved, cupcake. This is their business, not yours,” Dave interjected in a low tone.
“It’s fine with me,” Marsha replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Come on, let’s mingle,” she said to Michele, leading her into the crowd.
“At least you didn’t have to dye your hair, Dave.” Paul elbowed him, shaking his head. “Next year I’m definitely going to be smarter when deciding on a costume.”
“Do you really think she’s going to observe the no-drinking rule tonight?” Dave interrupted before taking a sip of his martini.
“Ahh, I see we’re dispensing with the small talk. Well, she will unless she wants to be punished. And I intend to watch her closely,” Paul said with a sly smile. “Knowing Marsha, I’m assuming you’ve been filled in on much more than you care to know about our marriage.”
“Yes, and as my kids would say, TMI.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen Brenden and Kristin. What are they doing now?”
“It’s hard to believe that Kristin is a senior in high school. And as you might imagine, her entire world is all about boys right now. Needless to say, I’ve been letting Marsha handle that drama. Fortunately, Brenden still seems to like me and we hang out together quite a bit. He’s a pitcher on the junior varsity baseball team, and I love going to the games. It’s one of the perks of being able to make my own work schedule.”
“Naturally, I have quite a few parents that
see me on a regular basis because of their kids. Believe it or not, you’re a very lucky dad.”
“Amen to that,” Dave replied. He took another sip of the icy clear liquid from the glass. “By the way, my money is on your daughter having at least one drink behind your back.” Dave looked at his watch. “And I’ll bet she does it in the next hour.”
“She does relish an alcoholic beverage before dinner on the weekend, so you’re probably right.”
“Michele won’t have time to savor a glass of anything tonight. I guarantee you, sipping won’t be on her agenda.” Dave looked over at the bar and added, “If anything, I’m guessing she’ll have a couple of shots.”
Paul nodded. “Is there a spare room upstairs that you won’t be using this evening?”
“My kids are sleeping out tonight, so both of their rooms are free. Wait a minute… you aren’t thinking of disciplining her here, are you?”
“If she disobeys me, there will be an immediate consequence for her actions.” Paul looked his friend in the eye. “Unless, of course, you object. After all, this is your house.”
“She’s your wife, but just so you know, my rooms aren’t soundproof.”
“I understand.”
* * *
Across the room, Michele and Marsha took a moment to talk privately by the fireplace. “For God’s sake, Michele, this is a trap! He knows how much you love to have a drink or two at a party.”
Michele pursed her lips. “Once again, my husband is trying to prove a point, Marsha. Look, he’s going to watch every move I make from across the room.”
“Okay, before someone comes over to interrupt our little chat, you need to tell me. What the hell is his point?” Marsha whispered in her ear.
“Remember when we had breakfast, and I told you about Paul’s suggestion that we try this age-play lifestyle?”
“Yes, and didn’t I say that he had another reason behind the daddy/daughter arrangement?”
“He does, and it goes much deeper than alleviating my stress level. This isn’t a trap, Marsha. Trust me, Paul is on a mission.”
“Are you going to share the explanation for this deep-rooted psychological journey you two are on?”
“I will eventually, when all the kinks are worked out. But for right now, let’s go have that drink.”
“Oh, I do love when your sassy side appears. This should certainly be entertaining for everyone.”
Across the room, Paul’s lips protruded as he watched his wife approach the bar.
“What will it be, ladies?” The bartender was wiping glasses as he looked up smiling.
“I’ll have a shot of Patrón Silver Tequila, please,” Michele requested politely.
“Would you like me to salt the rim and cut you a slice of lime?”
Michele looked over at Paul, who had just crossed his arms.
“There’s no time for accoutrements. And make it a double.”
“Do you really think you have time to drink that? He’s on his way over,” Marsha warned.
The bartender watched with an amused expression, as Michele downed the clear liquid in one gulp. Her husband, however, didn’t seem quite as entertained.
“Put it down, princess. We need to talk in private.” Paul’s tone was soft but deep as he spoke in her ear.
Licking her lips, she sadly placed the short glass on the bar as he gently took her arm. Only the people standing close by noticed what was happening and everyone smiled and raised eyebrows at each other as they watched the young couple leave the room.
“Donald Trump doesn’t drink, and he warned his daughter not to indulge tonight,” Dave explained to the small group as he approached the bar. “She was obviously testing him.”
“Isn’t it great how Paul and Michele really got into their characters tonight?” Marsha responded to Dave before widening her eyes in his direction. “Why don’t you turn up the music, dear?”
* * *
Michele sat down on the bed and crossed her legs in ladylike fashion as Paul closed the door behind him.
“What were you thinking, testing me at our friends’ party?”
“Sorry, Paul. It’s just hard to take you seriously when your hair is… orange.” Michele giggled and leaned back on the bed, closing her eyes. “Ooh, one large swallow of Patrón really kicks you in the ass, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm hmm.” He approached the bed slowly and removed her stiletto heels. “Especially when you haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”
Michele opened one eye and smiled. “We really should go downstairs and have a bite. I’m pretty sure the club catered tonight.”
“I think someone needs to be taught a lesson first.”
“Here? Are you kidding? The house is full of people we know. Someone might hear us.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that earlier, before you decided to take me to the edge.” Paul sat down next to her. “Over my knee,” he growled. “Now!”
Michele stumbled as she attempted to stand. “Can’t we wait until we get—” but before her sentence was completed, Paul grabbed her wrist and tumbled her over his lap.
“No, this can’t wait. You will be spanked right now,” he said, pulling her black stretchy dress just above her round backside. “I love how this fabric stays in place.”
“Have you lost your mind? Dear God, someone might walk in! Ouch!” she yelled as his hand rained down a series of hard slaps to each side of her bottom.
“This scrap of fabric you call a thong was a great addition to your costume. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so worried about panty lines.” He nestled the string of lace in the crevice of her ass, before his palm made another hard connection to each tender pink cheek.
“Owww! Please, Paul. Someone will hear!” she cried.
“I think the noise level coming from this room is entirely in your control right now,” he said calmly, applying quick, sharp smacks to her velvety skin, one to match each word in his sentence.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was testing you tonight. I was being a brat and I’m sorry!” Her body went limp in defeat as her face fell to the bed.
Paul smoothed the hot, sensitive skin on her backside. “Look, I know you like the attention, but you really shouldn’t bait me while we’re in public. Was there honestly a doubt in your mind that I would rise to the challenge?”
As Michele’s head raised, tears pooled in her large blue eyes. “This is so embarrassing, do you think anyone heard us?”
He shook his head. “They’re making a lot of noise downstairs and it sounds like someone turned up the music. Are you ready for a hug, Michelie, or would you like to cool off over there in the corner?” he asked, patting her hot, reddened bottom.
“I think that phone call from my dad tonight set me off,” she whimpered, climbing into his lap.
“I know.” He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your relationship with him, and you need to work on resolving some things. It’s not healthy, kitten.”
She looked up at him and started to sob. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to be your problem, too. No one needs a wife with real daddy issues. Aren’t people supposed to outgrow that stuff?”
“Shh-shh. Just relax, everything will work out. I promise,” he soothed, thumbing her tears away as they rolled down her cheeks.
“Will you stay here while I go to the bathroom to splash some water on my face? I must look like a raccoon.” She crawled off his lap and stood up to pull her dress back down. “I don’t want to walk back downstairs alone.”
“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Ten minutes later, Paul and Michele casually walked downstairs holding hands and integrated themselves back into the crowd.
“Are you okay?” Marsha whispered in Michele’s ear.
Michele nodded and winked in response.
“Good. And I hope you’re both hungry, because the club outdid themselv
es with the food tonight. I’m thinking about having them cater our Christmas party.”
“We’re starving,” Michele said, smiling as she glanced up at Paul.
Chapter Thirteen
“Since Thanksgiving is right around the corner, have you thought about how you might want to celebrate?” Paul asked casually before biting into a blueberry muffin.
“Well, I have time off from school and could really use a vacation. How about a cruise? We’ve never been on one together.”
“Michele, Thanksgiving is a time for families to reconnect. Wouldn’t you rather bring everyone together here? I know it’s a lot of work, but I’m more than happy to take the on the role of lead chef.”
“No offense, but the last bird you prepared turned out a little dry. I prefer mine juicy and succulent,” she joked with an exaggerated wink.
“It’s early for such a smart mouth,” he said, checking his watch. “Just so you know, I’m not opposed to dishing out a Monday morning spanking before school, and I think we have enough time.”
“No, thanks, I’d like to be able sit in the teacher’s lounge today.” Michele stood and grabbed her school tote off the countertop. “I have an early class this morning, so can we continue this discussion tonight?”
“Alright, but just give some thought to the idea. Wouldn’t it be nice to invite your parents, Denise and her new boyfriend along with the Kurlses for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Why don’t we fly out to California to visit your mom and dad?” Michele hurriedly bent over, brushed a kiss onto Paul’s cheek, and ran into the garage before he could respond.
Opening the door to her car, Michele threw her heavy black tote onto the back seat. Why is he so intent on dragging my father back into my life? I wish he’d just leave the past where it belongs. Settling in the driver’s seat, she turned on the ignition, heaved a heavy sigh, and put the car into reverse, backing it out of the garage. Driving past the front door, Michele noticed Paul standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets looking pensive as he watched her drive away.
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