“Go for the old guy,” Laura pushed. “You said yourself his wife works nights and he is there by himself with the sleeping kid every night. Seduce him.”
“Seduce him? How? And hellooooooo. He’s married.”
“It’s easy, just go over there and tell him you have a problem and need some advice. Dress sexy, he’ll get the message.” Laura winked and Charlie shook her head in disapproval.
Laura rolled her eyes then quoted a line from one of their favorite Katherine Hepburn movies, “Oh justice with her shining sword! Look, you’re not trying to steal him. You just want to borrow him,” Laura quipped.
Oh, Dr. Laura what are you getting me into?
It took weeks and Charlie’s fifteenth birthday for her to get up enough nerve to knock on Mr. Daley’s door. While she would never remember actually knocking on the door, she would forever remember the look of anger that engulfed his face when he answered the door and found her standing there in her tight jeans, her sexiest sheer black shirt, and her hot pink push-up bra.
“I-I need some advice Mr. Daley and I was hoping,” she started but he cut her off mid-sentence, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to the living room where he pushed her down onto the couch.
He paced in front of her for a moment and she sensed that keeping her mouth shut was the best idea. Charlie was shaking.
“I know what you think you want little girl, and it is not going to happen,” he scolded her. Charlie lowered her head and felt the tears starting to well up in her eyes. Disappointment? Embarrassment? Maybe both. He grabbed her by the back of her hair and lifted up her head. He was just inches from her face as confusion and excitement washed over her.
“Don’t you dare cry young lady. I am thirty-four, married, and I have a child and you are not going to seduce me, do you understand?”
She nodded, dumbfounded. Well then, what the hell is this?
“This is what is going to happen, Charlotte. You will come here at eight o’clock every night on the nights my wife works, and you will bring your school books, do you understand?”
“My books? I . . .”
He interrupted her and demanded, “Yes Sir, is all I want to hear from you.” His face was red and he penetrated her with his eyes. Charlie thought she might throw up. “I will tell my bitch-of-a-wife that I can no longer stand by and watch what is happening to you and that I am going to help you get back on track with your school work.”
“But I don’t,” she started but he interrupted her again and narrowed his eyes. “Focus Charlotte. Do-you-understand?”
“Yes Sir,” she nodded, which was a lie.
Mr. Daley nodded but didn’t smile. He released her hair and took a step back and looked her over. “Stand up. Take off your shirt,” he ordered. She stared at him wide-eyed but took it off without hesitation. The sheerness of the shirt wasn’t covering much to begin with, but now she felt truly exposed . . . Exposed, confused, and aroused.
He sat down at the opposite end of the couch from her and stared at her. Charlie looked at the floor and used her arms to cover herself.
“Get me a beer.”
Charlie turned to walk toward the kitchen.
“Do not cover yourself.”
She lowered her arms and took a deep breath. She could do this. She brought back the beer and handed it to him. He accepted it without taking his eyes off her and told her to go into the kitchen and wash the dishes that were in the sink. Charlie had no idea what was happening but she did know, she asked for this, whatever this was. There certainly wasn’t anything like this in Laura’s sex books.
Charlie started the water running in the sink and then felt his gaze on her. He had come into the kitchen. She couldn’t hear him over the water, the thundering of the blood in her ears and her own disturbed thoughts, but she felt him. She glanced over her shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table behind her to watch her. Self-consciously, she bent over to open the dishwasher.
“Are you deliberately trying to defy me?” he asked in a low growl.
“No. Um. No, Sir. You said to clean up the dishes and I . . .”
“I said to wash the dishes,” he snapped. “Do you know what will happen if you do not do as you are told when you are here?”
Oh my God.
He got up and stood directly behind her. She could feel his hot breath on her hair and she started to visibly shake. He steadied her by grasping each of her shoulders from behind. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “I am not going to fuck you little girl, but I will beat your ass if you don’t do as you are told.”
“Yes. Yes Sir.”
Her voice quivered. She felt like her legs would go out from under her if he hadn’t had her pinned against the sink. He left her in the kitchen and when she finished the dishes she splashed cold water on her face and collapsed onto a kitchen chair. She was shaking uncontrollably, from adrenaline, from fear, from excitement, and from extreme confusion. She thought she might cry but she didn’t know why.
She finally mustered the courage to go into the living room, but she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact. “The dishes are done,” she said quietly. She stared at the floor and kept her arms at her sides. When he didn’t respond, she looked up to find him glaring at her.
“The dishes are done, Sir,” she quickly corrected herself and he nodded.
“Put your shirt back on, Charlotte, and take a seat.” Charlie obeyed and sat down on the couch and stared at the floor. Mr. Daley knelt on the floor in front of her and took her trembling hands in his.
“Look at me, Charlie.”
“I . . . I can’t,” she said breathless.
He gently tipped her chin up. “Yes, you can. Look at me.” Charlie’s eyes started to well up with tears. The anger in his eyes was gone.
“It’s okay baby. Don’t cry,” he comforted her and stroked her hair. “Did you enjoy that? Do you want more of that baby girl?” he asked, his eyes dancing. Charlie couldn’t speak. She had no idea why she enjoyed it, but she did and she definitely knew she wanted more. She quickly nodded ‘yes.’
“I just don’t . . .”
“Shhh,” he said as he ran his finger across her soft and trembling lips. “I need you to listen to me baby.” She loved the way he called her baby. “This is very important. You will go home tonight and you will go straight to bed. No smoking, no weed, no alcohol, and no sugar. You will not discuss this with anyone. In the morning you will get up on time and go to school and attend every class. You are not to speak to any boys, unless they are a teacher or your brother or father. If you obey me completely, you may come back here tomorrow night at eight o’clock with your books and the day’s school assignments. Do you understand, Charlie?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a choked whisper. “I want to come back.”
“I know you do, but you must obey me,” he said, his eyes serious. Charlie nodded. Mr. Daley took her hand and led her to the door with his hand on the back of her neck. He gently guided her through the door and he quietly closed it. She could feel him watching her but she didn’t turn back to look. He told her to go home and go straight to bed and that’s what she was going to do.
Chapter 18
Focus Charlie
And so it began.
Monday through Thursday at precisely eight o’clock p.m. she would arrive with her books to the Daley’s house. Every night would start with her standing in front of him in the foyer until he instructed her to go to the dining room and put down her books. She would put her books on the table and stand with her hands at her sides looking at the table until he gave the next instruction. Sometimes he would make her stand for thirty minutes before speaking to her and she wouldn’t move a muscle. Then he would usually have her remove some article of clothing or arrange her hair in a certain way, or change into a pair of his wife’s sexy shoes before sitting her down at the dining r
oom table to begin her homework.
Their communication was very formal. Most nights he would stand behind her while she studied, shattering her concentration. He would lean down with his hands on her shoulders and whisper in her ear, “Focus, Charlie. You can do it.” Sometimes he would brush her hair which drove her mad with desire. She had no idea why it affected her that way, but it would set her entire body quivering. “Focus, Baby,” he would whisper, and she would have to push through and finish her homework while he gently pulled the brush through her long shiny hair. She had to push the thought of how the back of the hair brush would feel against flesh out of her mind.
Occasionally, there was talk of various punishments he might subject her to if she failed to obey him. It frightened her, but also excited her and moved her in a sexual way that drove her body wild. As a special treat when she was a “very good girl” he would give her permission to touch herself when she returned home and went to bed. She was never permitted to touch herself in front of him and she could only do it at home with his permission. Mr. Daley made it very clear that there would be no sex between them and Charlie believed him. She was completely infatuated. She loved obeying and pleasing him and being rewarded with his approval when she had done well. When she brought home a test with an “A” on it, his eyes would light up as he stroked her hair and told her what a good girl she was for studying so hard in spite of his distractions and how proud he was of her. Her favorite times, in addition to hair brushing and talk of punishments, was when he would make her wash the dishes. He would press his hardness against her back like he did that first surreal night, but she was not allowed to react.
When she did react, he would make her stand in the corner, put her over his knee and gently spank her through her jeans, or be made to walk on her hands and knees for the evening. Charlie ached for his touch and his control.
From Friday to Sunday she was lost without his commands, his soothing sexy voice and his confident but tentative touch. It was all so unnerving and raw and sexual. He didn’t make physical contact every time but still managed to move her in places never actually touched. He not only aroused her sexually, he made her feel loved and protected. She would do anything to see the pride and sweetness in his eyes when he told her she was his good girl.
One Thursday evening as Mr. Daley was driving past her house on the way home from work, she was speaking with one of her brother’s friends on the front porch. She was explaining to the boy that her brother was not home and that she was not permitted to have male visitors, which made her feel good and special to say. The boy had just told a joke and Charlie was laughing as Mr. Daley drove by. She caught his glare and knew instantly that she was in trouble. She hadn’t done anything wrong but she knew she would not be given a chance to explain. Her stomach did somersaults for four hours until it was time to arrive at the Daley’s. She knew better than to show up early. She knew better than to show up late. She knew the rules.
As she walked in, the color of his face told her what she already feared. She was in trouble. He slammed the front door closed and she reflexively looked up the stairs to listen for Dillon. Then he knocked the books out of her hands. Charlie froze, but held her tears. Don’t cry, she reminded herself. He seethed at her but said nothing intelligible as she stood perfectly still, holding her breath. She looked at the floor and offered no explanation. “On your knees,” he ordered. She immediately dropped to her knees and waited. Her mind was racing. What was going to happen now? After what seemed like an eternity with him towering over her, he finally spoke.
“Pick up your books and go to the dining table and do your homework and do-not-speak,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
Maybe there wasn’t going to be a punishment. This thought brought her both relief and disappointment. But she was wrong, there was a punishment. The worst punishment of all, deprivation.
Charlie sat at the dining room table doing her homework, trying desperately to focus while Mr. Daley sat one room away in the dark, not making a sound. She couldn’t see him but she could feel him. She could feel his anger, his frustration, his disappointment and she wanted to die. It was worse than any physical punishment he had ever doled out or taunted her with. It was gut-wrenching. After an hour she started to choke up and she broke her ordered silence.
“Please, Sir,” she sobbed, “I can’t take this.” From the next room came the barely audible order.
“Not. One. Fucking. Word. Charlotte.”
The dam broke. The tears came and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t cry this hard when her mother left. She was broken. Why tonight? Thursday night, the hardest night of all to leave him. At ten o’clock she put down her pencil and gathered her books and stood next to her chair awaiting his command as she did every night.
“Leave,” he said, without getting up.
No, she thought. No fucking way. I am not leaving like this. I can’t. I won’t survive the weekend. She sobbed.
“Leave now!” he screamed and she ran for the door. Charlie cried all the way home, she cried as she crawled into bed, and she cried most of the night and most of the next day at school. From Friday afternoon until Monday she was bedridden and practically catatonic. Not that anyone noticed. She had no idea what Monday night held. Was it over? Was she expected at 8:00? She had broken the rules and he said there would be punishment, and there was and she never wanted to feel that way ever again. Would he give her another chance? She would gladly take a hundred beatings than to ever go through that again.
After school she prepared herself and then paced in the kitchen like a circus cat, willing the clock to move faster. At seven fifty-five she walked to his house. He opened the door before she knocked and pulled her inside. He stared at her tear-filled eyes and again knocked her books to the floor.
Then, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her in a way he never had before. He let out an audible sigh as he pulled her in closer. “My poor baby. Are you okay?” he whispered, fully aware of the power he had over her. Charlie collapsed in his arms with relief and exhaustion. He picked her up and carried her to the rocking chair where he held her and rocked her while she gently wept in his arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and nuzzled her face into his neck while he soothed her.
“I hated doing that to you. I have been out of my mind since you left here Thursday, but you gave me no choice,” he said gently stroked her hair. “You have to follow the rules. You have to obey me, Charlie. There is too much at stake and I have to trust that you will do what I tell you to do and I told you no boys.”
Charlie nodded and tightened her grip on him. He could have been saying anything. Charlie didn’t care. All she cared about was how this was making her feel; his protection, his compassion for her, and his concern. The connection she was feeling, she had with no other human being in her life.
“It’s okay baby girl. I’ve got you. You will do what you are told now?”
“Yes, Sir.”
At ten o’clock he woke her from her sleep, still draped over him, still rocking.
“It’s time to go home Charlie.”
He pushed the hair back from her face and she smiled shyly at him. They were locked in a moment. His eyes were soft, hers were sleepy and they both felt it at the same time. Something had changed between them. Some line had been crossed. Charlie wanted his mouth on hers, but she sensed his panic and quickly jumped up and grabbed her books and headed for the door not wanting to give him any opportunity to examine it.
The next few weeks were strained. Mr. Daley was clearly losing his battle to remain unaffected. Several nights he sent her home early with no explanation, but she knew why. Charlie was painfully torn. All these months Mr. Daley’s behavior towards her could be considered weird and even inappropriate, but what else could anyone say? They hadn’t had sex. They had never even kissed. But now, there was a hunger in his eyes she hadn’t seen before the deprivati
on night. She knew instinctively she could tip the scales, if she chose to. Her body wanted to, but her heart couldn’t bear the thought of taking him someplace he said didn’t want to go—couldn’t go. Then, fate stepped in to solve the problem she couldn’t solve on her own.
One night, Charlie was late arriving at Mr. Daley’s house. Very late. She was never late. It was against the rules, but this was out of her control. Her brother Tom had gotten into another fight and was hurt and his friend had ditched him. Charlie had no car, but Laura did and she came to pick Charlie up so they could go and pick up Tom together. Laura refused to go get Tom alone. Like everyone else, she was afraid of him. After Laura dropped them off Charlie ran into the house to get her books and rushed to the Daley’s house. It was nine-fifteen. She was nervous but had a good excuse and she was sure that Mr. Daley would be understanding. He was not the same man since he rocked her to sleep in his arms. He cared about her and he was helping her. It was weird, kinky, sexual-without-sex kind of help but Charlie was responding to it. She was eating well, sleeping well, and her grades were through the roof. He would understand.
There was no answer at his door when she knocked. She turned the door handle and it was unlocked. Perplexed, she opened the door a little and called to him. There was no answer, but she could hear the TV. She set her books on the kitchen table and spotted the 151 on the counter. Uh oh. She crept slowly into the living room and found him standing with a drink in one hand and his belt in the other. He cracked it against the leather couch and she jumped.
“I’m so sorry, Sir,” she whispered and lowered her eyes. “My brother was . . .” she started but stopped mid-sentence. She could see from the fire in his eyes that there was no point. Fight or flight? Which was it going to be? Neither, she was frozen in her tracks.
“Don’t say one fucking word,” he barked. Okay this was not sexy. Not sexy. Again, he hit the couch with the belt and it made a loud popping noise followed by him emptying the contents of his glass into his mouth. Charlie glanced at the baby monitor. It hummed quietly. Mr. Daley was drunk and he was angry. This was new and it was scary.
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 11