My Stepmom's Boyfriend

by Cassandra Dee

  But the outfits suit the occasion, and Hawthorne ladies always make sure they are groomed appropriately, no matter the occasion. With one last spritz of an enticing vanilla perfume, we float out the door, smiling prettily. It’s been a week since we were selected as hostesses, and part of me still can’t believe my good fortune. Yolanda and I know this is our big opportunity and we are taking it by the horns.

  After a mincing walk in sky-high heels across the campus grounds, we arrive at the front gates. There, a big black limo idles. The other girls are already milling about while gossiping with excitement, dressed in their own scandalous outfits. We’re all made up to the nines, and I’d bet that quite a few ladies aren’t wearing panties. I know I’m not.

  “Ah, finally. Ladies,” Miss Hanley greets dryly. Our guidance counselor looks dour as always, her mouth pursed as if she’s just tasted a lemon.

  “Hello Miss Hanley,” we chorus in unison. “How are you today?”

  She ignores us.

  “Alright, now that everyone’s here, some final words. First of all, I must say, you all look beautiful,” she compliments, looking truly pleased for the first time in memory.

  I take another glance around, looking over the ladies. It’s true. Everyone looks wonderful, and there’s not a chipped nail in sight, nor a hair out of place. My heart sinks though. Although I love the ladies here, it looks like competition is going to be fierce tonight.

  Shoulders back, chin held high, I push out my bust and return my focus to Miss Hanley’s words, determined to find myself a billionaire tonight. Our guidance counselor continues.

  “You are going to a private home, and your driver knows where to take you. Once you arrive, do your very best to make Hawthorne proud. Our future rests in your hands. Are there any questions?” she asks, peering over her glasses and looking at each one of us pointedly.

  Nodding our heads in unison, we reply, “No, Miss Hanley. We will.”

  With a smile, she gestures to our chariot for the evening.

  The girls step daintily into the limo, and Yolanda and I maneuver our way into the middle of the luxurious leather seats. The vehicle is surprisingly spacious and we sit back, marveling at the amenities. There’s sparkling water in the side pockets, as well as a few snacks and even some breath mints.

  As soon as the last girl is in, the door is shut firmly, and the limo pulls away from the curb. The windows are heavily tinted so it’s really hard to see where we are going, but I can tell we’re whizzing by trees, and proceeding down otherwise empty roads.

  “Do you guys want a drink?” Christy asks, picking up a very expensive bottle of champagne. She’s one of the bottle blondes, although I have to admit, her dye job looks really good with its highlights and lowlights.

  Before I can even open my mouth to speak, Yolanda shoots her a warning look. “But remember, we’re not really supposed to drink before a big hosting event. A Hawthorne lady is never sloppy drunk when out in public.”

  Christy makes a face but puts down the champagne.

  “Okay, okay. You’ve gotten your point across. I’m just nervous, that’s all!”

  “We all are, but we just have to stick together and remember our training,” Yolanda reassures the girls in the car.

  An awkward, tense silence fills the vehicle, everyone lost in their thoughts. It’s almost as if we’re preparing for war.

  “Ladies, listen. Tonight, is going to be a fun night. We don’t want to show up all pissy and stressed, okay? No, we can’t drink, but let’s at least have something to wet our throats. Oh look, there’s juice in here! Come on, we can have some of this,” I chirp reassuringly.

  The ladies look relieved at the break in tension. “I think that’s a great idea. Pass me a bottle?” Lindsey asks, holding open her outstretched hand.

  I start passing around the plastic juices, thankful that everyone seems to have chilled out a little. We start giggling and talking about the billionaires who might be there.

  “I wonder if the blonde one who looks like Fabio will be present?” sighs Mariana, looking dreamy.

  “Fabio?” squeals Christy. “Oh my god, that would be a dream! But personally, I like it when they have chestnut hair for me to run my fingers through.”

  Nicole merely giggles.

  “Or silver. You know I like my men older. A lot older, come to think of it.”

  I laugh a bit myself because the truth is that I like my men on the older side as well. Maybe not thirty years older, like Nicole, but I certainly like a man who’s aged well, with experience at his fingertips. It helps balance out my naïveté as a young woman, and makes for a sensual mix.

  Everyone chatters excitedly, and we go on laughing and dreaming about the upcoming party. Drinking the apple juice like it’s a hundred-dollar glass of champagne, time passes quickly. Soon, our limo pulls up to a private driveway, and we lean forward with anticipation as the vehicle begins crunching over a gravel pathway.

  It’s hard to see where we’re going because not only is it semi-dark out, but there are tall trees shading us on both sides. The forest is so thick that we have no idea where we are, and the drive seems interminable. Finally, however, we pull up before a huge manor. The girls gasp as their eyes go wide.

  “Oh my god, it’s a castle!” breathes Nicole.

  “I get dibs on whoever owns this place!” squeals Annette, her nose practically pressed to the window. “Ooooh!”

  But now, it’s time to make our entrance. The seven of us step into the night, and slowly, the limo pulls away, leaving us in front of the huge castle. It seems even bigger than before, with a large wooden door that looks more like a gate, and elaborate topiaries standing like sentinels. Large trees loom overhead and the air smells like fall with just a tinge of danger.

  “Come on, girls,” I say bravely. “Let’s get to the party.”

  I knock, and immediately the door is swept open. An elderly man stands there, dressed in a dark butler’s uniform.

  “Welcome,” he says bowing. “I presume you’re the girls of Hawthorne?”

  I clear my throat.

  “Yes, we’re here for the party.”

  He stands aside to let us in, holding the door open as we pass into a lavish foyer. It’s enormous, at least triple height, with a large chandelier dripping with crystals. The light refracts as the girls oooh and ahhh.

  “This way please,” the butler says politely before proceeding down a hallway. We follow him, mincing in our extravagantly high heels, and finally we’re standing in front of another large, imposing door.

  The butler knocks and a deep male voice calls out, “Come!” The door opens, and then shyly, we file inside.

  Once I’m inside the room I let out a gasp because it’s easily the most ornate room I’ve ever been in. It’s a sitting room, done up in glinting gold and maroon brocade. There are elaborate curtain swags, and the furniture looks like period Louis XIV, complete with wooden curlicues and spindly legs. But what makes us all gasp isn’t the furniture, but rather the men, because before us are about ten alpha males, all of them incredibly handsome.

  They smile, their eyes roving over our curvy forms.

  “Welcome,” says one, coming to greet us. He’s wearing a black tuxedo, just like his friends, and they all look incredibly dashing. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  I stammer a bit.

  “Oh no. I mean, yes. Juice please. Apple if you have it.”

  But the other girls aren’t wasting a moment. Immediately, they fan out to speak with the other billionaires, their beautiful faces alight with anticipation. I see quite a few of my friends push out their breasts and cock their hips so that they’re seductive and sexy, like a peacock showing off its feathers.

  Meanwhile, I’m feeling a bit awkward. What was that idiotic remark about apple juice? But then the first man returns with my juice in hand, and suddenly, my heart goes crazy because I realize I’ve met him before. He’s gorgeous, with sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, not to m
ention the build of a Greek god. How did I not remember? It’s clear he remembers me too, and his next words take me by surprise.

  “Mandy,” he growls. “It’s good to see you again. Seth James.”

  I jolt.

  “Mr. James, it’s a pleasure.”

  He nods.

  “Likewise. How could I forget the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on?” Of course, he’s exaggerating but I blush with pleasure. The man standing before me is tall, devilishly handsome, and has azure eyes I could drown in. They seem to caress my form, taking in my large breasts, curvy hips, milky skin, and curly locks. Our connection is so intense that it feels like the others have disappeared, and that we’re the only two people in the room. OMG, OMG!

  But then for some darn reason, I decide to be feisty.

  “It was good meeting you two years ago, but why didn’t you call me afterwards?” I’m referring to the first and only time I met him at my friend Francine’s house. Francine had a small dinner party, and she and her husband invited me and Seth over as guests. I guess Seth is a friend of Francine’s husband, Patrick.

  The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, like I’ve just invited him to play a game. “Spicy. I like it. Keep it up.” But before I can say anything, he cuts me off. “I’m happy to show you just how sorry I am. Would a written apology make you happy?”

  I smile saucily.

  “Oh please, Seth,” I coo playfully. “What makes you think we’re going to be doing much reading and writing? We are Hawthorne girls after all, or did you forget?”

  Seth licks his lips, his blue eyes flashing as he looks me up and down slowly from the top of my head all the way down to the tips of my toes. Clearly liking what he sees, his eyes are devouring me, undressing me with each passing glance and the air hitches in my chest. Unconsciously, I swivel, waggling my hips as I walk away.

  Without even turning, I can feel his sensual stare boring a hole through my dress, trying to imagine what could possibly be concealed by this barely-there outfit. Each step I take is deliberate and slow. My hips sashay from side to side in a rhythm that matches the swing of my hair.

  I have no idea where these sexy moves are coming from, but I suppose it must be my training at Hawthorne. They’ve taught us to be vixens, and now, I’m putting those lessons into play. After all, this is just the tip of the iceberg for the evening.

  As my heels click to the bottom of the stairs, I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Seth is two steps behind me, licking his lips as he eyes my curvy booty. Tossing my hair over my shoulder and giggling, I start going up to the second level. After all, we’re here to party and I’m going to show this billionaire a good time.

  * * *

  To be continued …

  Daddy Academy 3 is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.

  Sneak Peek: Daddy In Waiting

  Pepper

  Pepper catches her boyfriend cheating on her, and now she’s out for revenge.

  * * *

  The sun shines brightly as I pull my car into the parking lot of my community college. It’s nearing evening, and Carl Stenson, my boyfriend, should be getting out with the rest of the team at any moment. The official football season starts next week, and he’s always hungry after practice, so I’ve picked him up a sandwich from Subway: a footlong spicy Italian with provolone and banana peppers. There’s even ketchup in a little box on the side, just the way he likes it.

  I’m hoping this olive branch will smooth things over with him because we fought last night. Again. He hates when I ask him to take me out on a date in public. He doesn’t usually mind spending time with me at his house or my house, but for some reason, he refuses to actually be seen with me in front of other people. Fishy, right?

  But I overlook his reluctance because Carl has a lot on his plate. Not only is he the star quarterback of our community college team, but he’s also under a lot of pressure from his parents. I don’t know, the Stensons are just weird that way. They think that Carl should be aiming for the very best, and that means transferring to a Division I school. If I were in his shoes, I’d feel plenty of pressure as well, so I try not to burden Carl with my demands. So what if he wants to keep our relationship on the downlow? It’s less stress that way.

  Still, his reluctance to go public doesn’t make me feel good per se. I mean, some people know about us, and certainly me arriving at the school with a paper bag from Subway makes it clear that we’re something. But everything always seems to happen according to Carl’s timeline, and the only thing I can do is wait.

  I pull down the visor in my car to make sure my makeup is in place. I’m wearing a blush shade of lipstick that Carl mentioned looks good on me and my curls are suitably fluffy. Awesome. I’m here to surprise him, and I want to make sure I look yummy enough to eat.

  I step out of my car and lean against the hood, the Subway bag in hand. Although the sun is shining, an autumn breeze blows against my face, so I pull my woolen hat lower to cover my ears. It’s not quite fall yet, but the nights here in Prescott, Wyoming, can be chilly, which makes me yearn for a cozy fire.

  Yet I love this season so much. The leaves on the trees are just beginning to yellow and redden, and I can’t wait to sip hot chocolate, roast marshmallows and watch 80’s horror movies while cuddling on the couch with Carl. Any lingering animosity I feel about our fight dissipates when I think of spending time with the football player. He can be a jackass sometimes, but again, he’s under a lot of stress.

  After all, our first official game is next week, and Coach is riding his ass about giving it his all and pushing the team to victory. I can understand how overwhelming it must be. Plus, my advisor just had a talk with me about loading up on honors courses, and how I need to step things up academically. If her badgering gets me annoyed, I can only imagine how the pressure must be on Carl.

  Suddenly, there’s a banging noise and the door to the men’s locker room opens. I straighten with excitement, but then slouch when it’s just one of Carl’s teammates. But the boy sees me and then freezes, his eyes going wide. What was his name again? Johnny, I think. I’ve seen him around and I wave hello. He smiles tentatively and looks around before lifting his hand in a tentative wave back. But then he throws me another strange look and scurries away to his car. Huh. That was kind of weird, but I’m sure it’s nothing.

  I gather my hair and bring it over my shoulder. I don’t want to complain too much because I’m lucky just to be dating Carl. He’s not only a star football player, but with his blonde hair and green eyes, he’s also the hottest guy I’ve ever been with. After all, someone like me, a frizzy-haired brunette with a pair of boring brown eyes and a few extra pounds doesn’t usually end up with the star quarterback. So I put up with a few small indignities because I know I’m lucky.

  Steadily, more and more players begin to leave the locker rooms. A few of them see me leaning against my car, waiting for Carl, and they shoot me uneasy grins. A few pretend to not see me altogether, and I wonder what’s wrong. One boy makes his way over slowly because his car is parked next to mine.

  “Hey Trent,” I say when he’s close. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good.” He and another player share a look that I can’t interpret before he glances back at me. “The guys and I… Carl didn’t say you were coming to meet him. You guys are dating, right?”

  “Oh, sort of, yeah,” I reply glibly. I don’t want to give too much away because Carl and I haven’t technically had the Talk. “But I didn’t tell Carl I was coming because I wanted to surprise him with Subway.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s real nice of you, Pepper. But you know, it might be a little while before he gets out. Coach wanted to talk to him. You know. About the game,” says Trent in a halting voice.

  “Thanks for the heads up, but I don’t mind waiting.”

  “Right.” He looks like he wants to say more, but then shakes his head. “I’ll see you around, Pepper.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah. See you, Trent.” I watch him get in his car and drive off, unease creeping into my chest. What is going on? Why are all of Carl’s teammates so jumpy when they see me? There’s obviously something going on. Is the coach thinking of cutting him from the team? Or did a recruiter already see some videotape and cross him off the list? I have no idea.

  I hold my hands to my chest as my anxiety worsens. I want to barge into the men’s locker room right now, but that’s the problem: it’s the men’s locker room. I have to be patient. Carl will show himself soon.

  But one by one, more of the players leave until there are only a few cars left in the parking lot. What is going on? It’s been half an hour already, and it’s getting late. Why hasn’t Carl come out?

  Looking around, I realize that it’s probably only my boyfriend left in the locker room at this point. What the hell? I walk towards the door, intent on just poking my head in and calling his name. But as I get closer, I hear weird moaning sounds. What the hell is that? Does someone need help?

  I pull the door open, and the air turns from cool to muggy and warm from the steam. The moaning sound comes again, louder this time, and there are some rhythmic grunting sounds as well. What the hell?

  I open my mouth to call Carl’s name, but then my mouth snaps shut. I already sense what’s going on, and my heart drops to my feet. I step further inside, and then there’s the unmistakable sound of skin smacking against skin, as well as a girl’s soft squeals.

  Oh no. Oh no, no, no. My feet are frozen to the ground. I don’t want to take another step forward. There’s no denying what I’m hearing although my brain feels frozen with shock. There’s no denying that I recognize the grunting tones because those are the noises that Carl makes when we’re together. I think I might burst into tears even before I confirm my worst fears.