Cat & Mouse Games (Tempting Mr. Parker)

by Blue, Gia

  “Fine, you caught me.” I roll my eyes, act like a spoiled teenager and then launch into a recitation that would give the Micro Machines guy a heart attack. “There’s this guy, right? Sean? And he invited me to a party this weekend. But, his sister Sherry is also my BFF. Long story short, Sherry and I had a fight. And guess what? Suddenly Sean has uninvited me to the party. Can you believe that? He went even further and unfriended me on Facebook and blocked me on Twitter. Really?” My parents develop this glazed look over their eyes, and I know I’ve got ‘em. “And that pissed me off. Like, really, what does a fight with his sister have to do with us hanging out?” I snort and nibble on my bagel. “So, I thought I’d just come home and chillax.”

  My mom blinks, her fork half way to her mouth, a perplexed look over her face. “What’s a Facebook? Twitter?”

  My dad is now comfortable behind his paper once again. “That’s fad teenager stuff, LeAnn. Leave her alone. She’s having a girly crisis.”

  “Exactly.” I nod. “I need to be somewhere I won’t see their fugly faces for a while. Too bad Sherry and I are in the same English class.” I pop the last of the pancake in my mouth. “Whatever. I need ice cream. And attention. A lot of it.”

  My mom harrumphs. “When are you going to grow up?”

  This would be the perfect time for Dad to cut in, but he just gives his usual deep, wise sigh and says nothing.

  I’m a perfect, too adult for my own good, princess in my parents’ eyes. Growing up, I rarely pitched fits and whined, so it’s a comfort to my mom when I bust out with something like this. And, as I suspected, Mom buys the whole thing.

  Girlie catfight, no party and icky boy. Yeah, that’s totally believable. I want to laugh like Dr. Evil, pinky pressed to my lips, when I think of the real reason I’m here.

  You’re a naughty girl, Jessie.

  Why yes, yes I am.

  My mom slides from her stool and pads toward the sink. “Your father and I are heading to the cabin for the weekend. Did you want to come along?”

  I pout. “Didn’t you hear me? I need my adoring parents to shower me with attention and prove to me I’m the most perfect child ever.”

  I should win an Oscar for my acting abilities. Seriously.

  “Joe Parker is coming along, too.” Dad announces from behind his paper. “We’re going hunting.”

  I restrain myself, trying very, very hard not to smile and launch into a victory dance. Score!

  “I also invited Carolyn Somersby,” my mom adds, not realizing she’s about to end my world. “Remember her? The pretty widow from the Home and Garden book club?”

  More restraint. Like, the Hulk not killing everything around him kind of restraint. What the fuck?

  My dad folds his newspaper. “Your mother is playing matchmaker. She thinks Mrs. Somersby would be perfect for Joe.”

  What the fuckity fuck?

  My mom waves a hand at my dad, as if batting at a fly. “God knows Joe needs a woman. Have you seen his house lately? I swear he’s just been…” she sighs. “He looked distraught the last time I saw him.”

  I bite my lower lip so I won’t blurt out the truth. I bet Mr. Parker has been looking so drawn because he feels guilty about fucking me behind my parents’ back. And now, what the hell is this? Who’s this bitch Carolyn? If she so much as winks at my Mr. Parker, I will snatch her bald.

  I shrug negligently, giving the appearance of calm beyond the surface of my skin. “Whatever. Maybe the countryside will be good for me, help take my mind off things.” I’ll also watch over my man and get a few bites of nookie under everyone’s noses. That sounds like a good plan.

  “You don’t need to unpack, dear.” My mom loads Dad’s coffee cup into the dishwasher and gets it going. “Just load your bag in the SUV. We’ll stop at Mal’s on the way to grab some supplies.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I give another non-committal shrug. Inside, I’m steaming and bubbling with jealousy. There’s no way in hell I’ll let some widow in Mom’s frou-frou book club put the moves on my man.

  Looks like this weekend will be entertaining…

  A half hour later, we park in front of Mr. Parker’s house and I watch as he steps onto the porch, hand raised in welcome. His face is split with a broad smile, midday sun heating him, and his cheeks are touched with a bit of pink.

  Damn, it’s only been a day, and I want to pounce on him.

  Of course, that healthy glow he’s sporting drains away when he sees me next to the SUV. He recovers quickly, not quick enough to fool me, but it doesn’t seem like the parents notice. He’s got the perfect poker face.

  He nods at me politely, acts indifferently as he always had before I brought him on a trip to panty-town.

  “Hey, Jess. How’s school?” His voice is calm, but his eyes are burning with… something.

  I shrug. “Good. Boring. The usual. How was Iraq?”

  “Hot. Boring. The usual. Taking a break from class?” Which is, of course, his way of saying “what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Yeah. I was just in the mood for fresh air and a bit of greenery.” Translation: Your ass is mine this weekend.

  He nods. “Sure, this is the perfect place to relieve some stress.” I know he can’t believe I had enough balls to pull this.

  “Eh, school is taxing, and I need a break here and there.” Well, he better believe I’ve got balls, brass ones… the size of watermelons.

  “You deserve a break.” His voice is low, and it kinda looks as if he’s talking through clenched teeth.

  I smile. “I think I do, too.” And if I happen to fuck him stupid during my break, woo hoo for me.

  A tremendous breath leaves his chest, and he seems to surrender with a sigh. He knows I can be a stubborn, willful, girl. “Are you hunting with us, too?”

  My smile grows wider and, perhaps, a bit wicked. “Not with guns. I have my own brand of hunting in mind.”

  He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat. He doesn’t ask any further questions, just climbs into the SUV.

  My dad is driving, and Mom surprises me by riding shotgun. I figured she would sit in back with me for some “girl talk.” I sit behind them with Mr. Parker. What I had imagined would be a fun ride just got insanely better. I’m mischievous at heart, and torturing my secret lover under my parents’ nose is what I call high quality, first rate entertainment.

  I had expected the whore named Carolyn (okay, so I don’t really know she’s a whore) to ride with us, but to my relief Carolyn is meeting us there. Mr. Parker still doesn’t know about the whore’s existence.

  But, the woman has a cabin near ours, so we’re going to be semi-cabin buddies.

  Joy.

  Not.

  I relax a bit at hearing my competitor won’t be joining us. It gives me plenty of time to fine-tune my plan, Operation: Tease (and fuck) Mr. Parker.

  The name isn’t as snazzy as I’d like, but there will be hard core results.

  Earlier, before we’d all loaded into the SUV, I’d slipped behind the wheel and checked the driver’s field of vision in the mirror, joking with Dad that I’d take the wheel. He said not so much. By then, I’d already done all the recon I needed. God smiled on me. The driver can’t see what happens in the back seat below the passenger’s chest. So, one hour into the ride, Dad driving and Mom chattering like a bird in the other seat, I slouch and place my hand over Mr. Parker’s crotch.

  He doesn’t jump, jerk, tense or startle like I’d anticipated. Maybe his military training has conditioned him to be collected and calm, hold his composure in every situation. Or perhaps he’d anticipated me pulling a few naughty tricks. I feel a little disappointed he hasn’t responded.

  That disappointment is short lived. My feelings turn into delight when he doesn’t brush my hand away.

  He doesn’t look at me, either. Nope, he gazes out the window, a faraway look on his features. But his cock jumps, hardens against my palm, his jeans the only thing separating us.

  With
his focus still on the passing scenery, I’m a little surprised when, with lightning fast movements, his hand covers mine, holds me tight against his shaft. Beneath my touch, he grows harder with every breath, until he has a full blown erection.

  Oh, god. Sweet.

  I fix my gaze on the front seats, trying to see if my parents notice what we’re up to.

  Dad’s still driving, grumbling at the other drivers. Mother is as oblivious and happy as a jay bird.

  I squeeze and grope Mr. Parker’s erection while struggling to maintain a calm façade. I want to giggle, purr, rub my hot pussy over his cock while I kiss the breath out of him.

  I squeeze, stroke, pet the cock I’ve come to know so well. I don’t see my lover often, but I’ve spent plenty of time getting to know this piece of him.

  His face is still a stoic mask while I touch him. Then, in yet another blur of speed, he peels my hand from his body. He keeps hold of my hand, turns it over until my palm faces him. With the tip of a finger, he draws on my skin. First, it’s a single line, a sharp point added at the end.

  Okay, “I”.

  Then there’s a curve, mirrored with another. A heart. Okay, I heart.

  Finally, there’s a half circle. “U”. You. I heart you? I love you?

  God, for once I’m struck dumb and speechless. Totally weird for me.

  I’m so stunned I turn to him sharply, and he meets my gaze boldly, his eyes steady, expression solemn. A shrill of overjoyed panic tears my focus from him, and back to the front seats, to my parents drowning in their own happy world.

  Good. I allow myself a small measure of relief and pull my hand from his before my parents notice our touching. My cheeks burn, heart pounding wildly.

  I heart U. I love you.

  God. Is it true?

  And why am I acting like this?

  This isn’t the first time I’ve heard these words from a guy. Several of my past lovers had confessed their feelings. Often to the point of them being sickeningly lovey-dovey, which does nothing but annoy me. And I hadn’t truly cared since they were just fuck buddies. Cocks come (I’m not going to snort my laughter, I’m not), and cocks go.

  No bigs.

  But Mr. Parker is different. Always has been.

  He’s special. He’s the first man I ever lusted after and still the one man I yearn for amongst all of the lovers I’ve had.

  I heart U.

  Does he genuinely mean it? I never expected much from our relationship due to our age difference… our situation. I have always tried hard not to think beyond the time we share together. Deep inside, I’ve always had the fear that if I pressed too much, I’d scare him off. Adults think differently than dopey teenagers, and I didn’t want to lose him. I like him too much. I’d probably go crazy if he says he doesn’t want to see me any longer.

  I steal a glance at him, and it’s as if his eyes snare my attention, hold it steady. My chest feels heavy, constricted, and I can barely breathe beneath his scrutiny. It’s as if the heavens have opened and angels have sung, I know he means it. Okay, that was stupid, but that’s how it feels. The eyes are the windows to the soul and can speak a million words. His are saying three.

  I skirt his eyes, study the tips of my worn intensity and my naughty mood evaporates.

  Maybe I should behave myself. I shouldn’t tempt and tease him, so we can keep our affair a secret, hidden from prying, surely judgmental, eyes. If I’m careless and my parents discover us, it could be the end.

  Since, you know, I’m pretty sure my dad won’t be happy with his best friend banging his daughter. Mr. Parker is only four years younger than my dad, so… yeah.

  And, if I were older and not just starting college, my parents would view the relationship differently. Perhaps they’d see me as a “real” adult, free to make my own choices. They’d understand I can’t help who I fall in love with. But, for now, some things are best kept hidden from their prying eyes.

  I behave myself for the rest of the ride; put the earbuds in and listen to my iPod.

  At some point, I doze off, only to be shaken awake by Mr. Parker when we arrive.

  * * *

  My resolve to be a decent girl disappears the moment my mother introduces me to her friend, Carolyn Somersby. She looks to be in her early forties, but she’s got the body of a twenty-five-year-old. She’s got perky breasts (bigger than mine, the bitch), smooth skin, platinum blond hair (real, not bleached), a small waist and generous hips. Men would say she’s “perfect to be mounted”, all ripe and full of experience. I would call her type MILP: Mother I’d Like to Punch.

  Ahem.

  Adding to my bubbling irritation is the fact that Carolyn is pretty. She has these giant, blue, fawn eyes, heart shaped face and sensual, naturally rouged lips. Her voice is that of a songbird and her laugh is jubilant and carefree.

  Can I just shoot her now? Leave her to rot in the wilderness? Please?

  If I didn’t know my mom had planned for Joe to hook up with Carolyn, I may have even liked the woman. Maybe. But now, all I can think of is the fact that I want to wrap my hands around her slender neck and choke the life out of her.

  Carolyn brings her own surprise… she’s brought along her son, Brandon, a sophomore at Brown.

  Huh.

  After the initial shock passes and the bullshit pleasantries are exchanged, my mother pats my shoulder and yaps happily, oblivious to my desire to kill her friend. “Jessica’s a sophomore at Brown, too! Maybe you two could entertain each other?”

  Crap. I honestly don’t need this. In my mom’s mind, I’m a five-year-old who needs help playing nice with a new friend. At the moment, I actually want to grab my father’s hunting rifle and herd Mr. Parker at gun point back to the SUV and spirit him far, far away from this madness.

  Sayonara peeps, hello Hawaii. Bangkok. Bali. Wherever they can’t find us. I force a massive, sweet, fake smile as I try to tame the bitch prowling inside me. Carolyn is checking out Mr. Parker while Brandon treats me with the same sweeping gaze.

  Mr. Parker and I glare at each other, unhappy.

  My parents remain blissfully oblivious. Good grief.

  Acting the gracious host, I show Carolyn and Brandon to their rooms. I know they’ve got a cabin not far away but, apparently, my mother decided wooing was best done in close quarters. When my grandfather built the cabin in the fifties, he’d blown his savings on the place, thinking he’d retire to the woods in style. Even though it’s big enough to be called the “log mansion”, we still refer to it as the cabin.

  The cabin has two stories and six bedrooms upstairs, all sharing on large bathroom. The master bedroom is situated on the first floor, right along with the open kitchen that extends to the living room. Add in the hot tub on the back patio and it’s a veritable heaven on earth. There’s nothing like sliding into hot watery bubbles while surrounded by snow.

  I give Carolyn and Brandon rooms on the left side of the hall while I make sure I’m in the room next to Mr. Parker’s.

  And oh, what a coincidence, my room has an inner connecting door to his.

  Huh. Wonder how that happened.

  My room used to be my nursery when I was growing up, and my dad installed the connecting door so my nanny had easy access to me.

  My mother is a blue-blood Southern belle to her toes and thinks a maid and nanny are necessities.

  The moment I show Brandon his room, he strikes up a conversation.

  “So, you go to Brown… I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other on campus.” He’s six-four, nice, toned body and takes after his mother in the good looks department with his pale blond hair and shockingly blue eyes.

  I nod. I gotta play a little nice. “It’s an enormous place. I still get lost now and again.”

  He drops his bag on the foot of the bed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He turns toward me, rubbing his palms together. “So, are you dating anyone?”

  Wow. Blunt.

  My eyes widen, and now he gives me a small, sheepish gri
n. “Sorry, just curious. I figure, a pretty girl like you probably has guys lining up, right?”

  Well, the guy’s got balls.

  “No, not really.” I want to tell him the man I’m sleeping with is currently being ogled by his mother. Of course, I can’t do that, huh?

  He nods, a different kind of smile in place, and heat in his eyes. “I’m not seeing anyone either.”

  Now, I figure he’s yanking my chain or hiding deep in the closet. With his looks, girls should be chasing him. I’m seriously staring at a young Brad Pitt. And from my experience, these hotties score with nine out of ten women they meet.

  “Oh,” I nod. “Awesome.” Before he can put any sort of “moves” on me, I conjure an excuse to get the hell away from him. “I, uh, have to help my mom with dinner. Maybe you can help? Chop some wood for the fireplace?”

  “Sure. I’ve helped my dad before.”

  “Awesome.” I edge closer to the door, my escape in sight. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  I glide into the hallway and slam into Mr. Parker. I seize him, dig my nails into his muscled arm. He’s wearing an olive shirt that’s molded to his muscular body like a second skin. I lean forward and whisper, careful of our surroundings. “If you flirt with her, I swear I will kill you with my newly attained ninja skills.”

  Okay, I have no ninja skills, but I’d get them just to kick his ass.

  Mr. Parker only smiles in return, knows what I mean. My mom had been a bit over the top when she’d introduced him to Carolyn. Even the village idiot would have seen she was playing matchmaker.

  He lowers his head, whispers back, “Wanna ditch this place and head to Vegas? Grab a quickie?”

  “Why do we have to go to Vegas? My room is, like, ten feet away.”

  His eyes blaze, and I’m struck by the naked want, desire and a little something else in his eyes. “Quickie wedding.”

  I release him as if his touch burns, and I know my mouth is hanging open. I flutter. I stammer. My cheeks heat and I know I’m bright freaking red. “Y-you’re crazy…”

  Mr. Parker just shakes his head, clucks his tongue, and then shimmies past me, heads into his bedroom, leaving me alone and flabbergasted with his crazy suggestion.