Act Your Age

by Eve Dangerfield

  “Excuse me,” she’d said in her husky voice. “Can you please help me? I don’t know the way to the interview room.”

  Ty had pictured her bent over his desk, crying great fat tears, as he spanked her ass purple. ‘Please, Daddy, I won’t do it again. I’ll be good, I promise.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he’d say, ‘get on your knees and prove it to me.’

  “Upstairs,” he’d croaked. “Interview room’s upstairs, on your left.”

  “Thank you.” Their eyes met and the air seemed to crackle between them, heating with the colourless, odourless and yet completely tangible energy of sexual attraction. In that moment Ty was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that this girl, whoever she was, had been thinking what he was thinking. Then she’d skipped away looking like a character in an Enid Blyton novel and he’d felt like the world’s sickest bastard. He assumed she was a teenager on work experience and vowed to stay the hell out of her way before going upstairs and pouring those shots into his coffee; one for Veronica, one for his disobedient dick .

  A fortnight passed. Ty had just begun to reassure himself he would never see the pink-dress girl again when he found out she wasn’t a teenager on work experience, she was Kate McGrath, a twenty-three year old civil engineer and GGS’s newest employee.

  The timing of it all had felt inconceivably cruel. The love of his life had just left him and this impossibly sweet, impossibly young female who riled him up for reasons he didn’t understand was in his presence eight hours a day, five days a week. He’d thought it was karmic retribution for all the dirty pornography he’d stuffed inside his Fender case. But now, standing in front of that same girl two and a half years later, Ty knew he’d been right the first time. When they’d met, it hadn’t just been him having those fantasies.

  “You did think that about me,” Ty said. “You felt it too, didn’t you? When we first met?”

  Middleton blinked up at him, and the air thickened with that same fat, undefinable energy that had sprung up in the GGS kitchen. “I can’t…”

  Ty stepped forward and put a hand to her cheek. It was velvet soft and sent sparks careening up his arm. “Tell me?”

  Middleton’s tongue traced her lower lip, soft and pink and plump. “Do you mean in the kitchen? When I asked you for directions?”

  He nodded.

  “I felt it,” she admitted. “I didn’t understand it the way I do now, but I felt it.”

  Ty felt slightly light-headed with relief. “Good.”

  “Mr Henderson,” Kate whispered. “Are you…does this mean you want to do it again?”

  So much of him wanted to say yes. The animal who almost fucked her raw last night. The hormonal teenager dying to explore his fantasies with a girl who wanted it the way he did. The pervert who’d lusted after her the moment he saw those knee socks. But there was also the part of him that wanted to wash her in the shower and sleep with her in his arms, the part that had stood alone ever since Veronica left. There was more happening here than the possibility of getting his dick wet and it made proceeding both dangerous and stupid. Middleton was half his age and his subordinate. If things went bad, it could ruin his career, his sanity and just about everything else he held dear.

  He let go of her cheek. “We can’t.”

  “But you just said—”

  “What happened when we met, it goes that way with people like us sometimes. You can smell it on one another.”

  “What do you mean?” She said with a trace of little girl sweetness.

  “Don’t,” Ty warned. “You know what I mean. We saw each other, we wanted the same thing. That was pretty damn obvious last night as well, but I shouldn’t have let things go so far. I should have turned you down or at least made sure you knew who I was.”

  “But I was thinking about you,” she said. “I was thinking of you even when I thought you were Rugby Boy. I think part of me knew it was you.”

  Triumph flooded into Ty’s veins like a narcotic. He wanted to kiss her, to claim her, to cement the fact that he’d been the one soaking her fucking panties, but then he remembered his realisations of a few minutes ago.

  “I’m glad you wanted me,” he told her. “I’m glad you don’t regret it, but it can’t happen again.”

  “Why not?”

  Ty would never have thought it possible but Middleton looked, well, not angry, but heated. As though she wanted to shove him in the chest. Her lips were parted and she was breathing hard. Instinctively, Ty knew that if he felt the soft petals between her legs they’d be drenched. She was frustrated and he knew exactly why. Against his better judgment he moved closer to her, standing between her denim-clad legs. “Didn’t get you off the way you wanted last night, did I?”

  She nodded, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “You’re a clever girl with two functioning hands, why didn’t you get yourself off?”

  She looked away.

  “Because I told you not to touch yourself,” Ty realised. “Well, you can touch yourself, you can do whatever you want, but we can’t be this stupid again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong,” Ty managed to say, as he fought the urge to wrap his body around hers and kiss her until she saw stars. “You’re my employee, and you’re almost half my age.”

  “You like that I’m half your age.”

  It could have been a shot about older men liking younger women, but Ty knew it wasn’t. “It’s not about actual age. Me being older doesn’t have shit to do with what you want.”

  Seeing a mischievous smile on that cherubic face, was strange, like hearing a new note on an instrument he’d played for years.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “It was so good last night, can’t we just finish what we started? Just do it once and then never do it again?”

  Ty thought of his dad’s trailer: older than dirt, its latch would disconnect on any given pothole and send pineapples flying out onto the road. Once, his brother Rhys had been riding in it and he’d gone flying out onto the road and broken his wrist. Ty’s old man had been too proud—and too cheap—to buy a new trailer until it was necessary and lord, it had made life hard. Ty couldn’t do that, he couldn’t turn a blind eye to the realities of this situation. He needed to pony up and pay for a new fucking trailer before anyone got hurt.

  “We can’t,” he told Middleton. “I’m too old for you and we work together. You might think you want this, but you didn’t get a degree and spend two years busting your ass for GGS to get fired because we screwed each other, did you?”

  Middleton frowned, another new and unusual expression on her. “Then why did you pull me in here all alone?”

  “Because I wanted to get this situation handled.”

  “No, you didn’t. You came over to me when I was talking to Patrick because you were jealous.”

  “I was jealous because you wanted me to be.”

  “No, I—”

  “Cut the shit. The jeans, this top…” he brushed a hand over her right shoulder. “Coming in late, flirting with the professor. You were waving the flag and hoping big daddy was going to come over and punish you. You should have seen the way your eyes lit up when you saw me, I could smell you getting wet for me.”

  He was standing closer to her now, close enough that their noses were almost touching and though he knew it was dangerous he couldn’t pull away.

  “If you know all that…” Middleton’s lips moved infinitesimally, kissing the air between them “…then why don’t you do something about it?”

  Ty wanted to, wanted to with all his fucking heart and soul. He’d never felt lust like this, sharp and tangible as a spike in his side. His cock was hard, his heart pounding. All he wanted was to show her he was a man of his words. Then he blinked, swallowed, made himself think of Rhys screaming in pain, his wrist bending the wrong way. He stepped backward. “Because it’s not worth the risk, and you know it.”


  She seemed to deflate slightly, as though he’d just pulled a tab in her back. “I…I do know that.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled.”

  Ty turned to walk away, then remembered something. He pulled open his wallet and Middleton’s eyes went wide as hubcaps. “You don’t have to pay me, I won’t tell anyone.”

  “It’s not for that, it’s for your bra,” Ty said quickly. “I know lingerie can be expensive.”

  She frowned. “Why can’t I just have it back?”

  Because it was wadded up in his hotel bin, covered in bodily fluids. “I, uh, the cleaning people threw it out.”

  Her face fell. “Oh. Well, don’t worry about it, I have plenty more.”

  Ty put his wallet away. “Fine, then I guess—”

  “Daddy.” She said it softly, like a birthday wish. Like a secret prayer. Ty froze and as though sensing her advantage Middleton put a hand on his chest. The sensation of her fingers through his shirt was so intimate, it felt as though she’d placed her warm palm on his cock.

  “Middleton,” he said, every letter a warning.

  “Daddy,” she repeated. “W hy can’t you just give us what we both want?”

  Ty gently pried her palm from him. “Because you’re a nice girl and I enjoyed what we did, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  He turned and moved toward the door.

  “Fine,” she called, her voice fierce from all he hadn’t given her. “Bet you’re a bad kisser, anyway.”

  Ty flipped the lock on the door. “Far as riling a man up goes, Middleton, that’s weak as piss.”

  A moment’s silence, and then, “I gave Professor Sloan my number.”

  Ty’s hand froze on the door handle. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “A lot of guys don’t mind being called ‘daddy.’ Now that I’ve done it once I’m sure I can do it with—”

  In a heartbeat Ty had crossed the floor and before he could stop, think or consider, he was kissing her, his lips fusing with hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth. It was like sucking on a sugar cube, the sweetness so pleasurable, every taste demanded the need for more. She held back from him, not out of uncertainty, Ty knew, but because she was mad at him for denying her. He kissed her harder, waiting for the moment when she’d stop bratting and give over control. Her tongue was cool against his own, her skull as delicate as blown glass beneath his hands. When she moaned and pressed her body against his, Ty pulled away, clutching a fistful of her hair the way he had in his bed. “You think that skinny motherfucker out there can do that to you, Middleton?”

  She was breathing hard, her nipples points against his chest. “No, no one could, no one has…”

  Her voice was so needful Ty couldn’t help but kiss her again, shoving his knees between hers and spreading her thighs wide so he could step between them. It was manic the way their bodies moved, years of desire focused into a single moment of mouths and hands and needy bodies pressing together.

  “You’re a Catholic, aren’t you?” Ty asked, remembering the rosary beads Stormy had once teased her about carrying.

  She nodded and he put his mouth right beside the pretty pink shell of her ear. “If I fuck you, you’ll think all your prayers have been answered. I’ll make you see god, Middleton. I’ll make you think I am god.”

  He kissed her again and this time she was feral, biting and writhing against him. “Daddy, do it to me, please?”

  “You don’t give me orders, sweetheart. That’s not one single part of how this works.”

  “But—”

  Ty slid his hands down to massage her breasts. Desire was slicing through him like a jagged blade, he was losing all control and yet couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck. “I’ll tell you something for free, little girl; you’re lucky we didn’t fuck last night. If we fucked, I’d be the last man you ever called Daddy. You’d have to find a new fantasy to play around with because I’d own that one. Understood?”

  “Yes.” Middleton’s eyes were closed, her pale lips flushed with blood. “Yes.”

  Ty pressed his cock deeper between her legs, making her feel every inch of what she’d never had. “Say it. Tell me what I am.”

  She moaned it, his favourite, most hated word.

  “What do you want?” he asked, but he already knew.

  “Please let me finish.”

  Against so much of his better judgment, Ty found his hands sliding down her body, undoing the top button on her jeans and pulling down her zipper. She shivered as though he was already two fingers deep in her. “Please, please Daddy, finish it.”

  He tugged her fly wide to reveal pale pink bikini briefs. “Finish what, little girl?”

  “My orgas—”

  A thunderous round of applause made them both jump. Manning Turner’s talk was over.

  “Shit,” Ty said at the same time Middleton said “Sugar!”

  The moment was over, broken. They moved apart, Middleton zipping up her jeans, him adjusting his cock through his suit pants.

  “You leave,” Ty told her. “Go out and find the others and have afternoon tea.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll come out in five minutes. I’ll say I was on the phone.”

  “Okay.” Middleton paused in the act of adjusting her top. “Mr Henderson—”

  “For fuck’s sake. I came in your mouth—it’s Ty.”

  And there it was, a crystalline moment in which Ty wanted to laugh, and he saw that Middleton wanted to laugh, but neither of them did. Instead they looked at one another, and just like in the GGS kitchen two years ago, Ty knew they were thinking the same thing, only this time it was—what the hell have I gotten myself into? Middleton leapt off the desk and ran toward the door. “I’m sorry,” she said, opening it. “I’m really, really sorry.

  Chapter 4

  “Alright girls, it’s time to stretch!” Maria’s voice echoed around the multi-purpose stadium as though she were a goddess speaking on high. There was a general grumble of dissent. No one liked stretching.

  “No bitching,” Maria snapped. “That means you, Gilly! Hit the floor!”

  Kate dropped her ass onto the ground, thinking for the millionth time what a shitty derby coach she’d be. “Oh, you guys just want to skate around for a bit, do some tackling drills then get ice cream? Go ahead! Please! Here’s twenty bucks!”

  She winced as she tugged off her skates. She’d pushed herself hard today and there were gashes on her shins where the edge of her shoes had rubbed her raw. She was drained, her body flickering with rubbery muscle spasms, but despite that she wanted to keep skating. She wanted to skate and skate and skate until she dropped to the floor from exhaustion, unable to think another thing.

  Does unrequited love change your biology? she wondered, trying to tease apart her triple knot laces. Does it make your body work different from the way it did when you thought you stood a chance?

  She recalled, as she had a hundred thousand times, the way Tyler Henderson had looked when he’d told her she was a nice girl, but it wouldn’t be happening between them again. As always, she shuddered with embarrassment. If only she could go back in time and tell her past self not to worry about the meringue incident because one day she would accidentally give Tyler Henderson a blow job and it would make every humiliating thing she’d ever done look as insignificant as the earth from Pluto. Or just show up, slap her past self in the face, and say ‘never suck anyone’s penis again!’

  Maria skated up to her side with a whoosh. The coach of the Barbie Trolls was an imposing woman; six feet tall with blue-black hair and arms covered in 1950’s burlesque-inspired tattoos. When she played, her derby name was Frida Killho. Seeing as she was a gorgeous, bisexual, Mexican-born painter, it suited her down to the ground. “What’s wrong, Katie?”

  Kate forced a smile. Maria was a good friend and a great mentor, but two weeks had passed since Bendigo and she was still in no state to talk about Ty.
“Nothing.”

  Maria looked utterly unconvinced. “Are you injured?”

  “Just a bit sore.”

  “Your family? They’re not bothering you again, are they?”

  “They’re fine, everything is fine.”

  Maria rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste your breath, I know you too well. What about work?”

  You’re a nice girl and I enjoyed what we did, but it’s not going to happen again. “Work’s…fine.”

  Maria narrowed her espresso-dark eyes. “I see. A problem with work. Does this have anything to do with the text message you sent me at 2 a.m. when you were in Bendigo begging me to call you? And then when I called you, you attempted to pass it off as a drunken accident?”

  “No,” Kate said, trying to keep her voice even. “That was…about fondant.”

  “Fondant?”

  “Yeah, for strawberry jewel cupcakes. I was thinking that I’d start preheating it in the microwave instead of using the double boiler method because—”

  Maria pressed a gentle finger to Kate’s mouth. It smelled, and tasted, like rosewater hand cream. “That’s enough. After this you and I are getting a coffee.”

  “What about your kids?”

  Maria made a noise that sounded like ‘apishhh.’ “Marco can watch them for another hour. We’ll have a coffee and you can tell me all about what’s bothering you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Kate agreed, ridiculously relieved. “That would be good, thanks.”

  Maria smiled. “It’s what I’m here for my love, now come.”

  In the stretching circle, Kate’s teammates discussed their plans for the weekend. General offers were made for people to join them at Goth yoga class, gastro bars, and in Rapunzel’s case, a field in which some pretty decent mushrooms were growing. As always, Kate stayed quiet. She wanted to attend Goth yoga classes and drink peach blood cocktails and maybe find out if Ritalin and shrooms went well together, but the offers felt so generic. Non-specific. What if they didn’t want her there? What if she showed up to these events and it was so uncomfortable she had to quit the team afterward?