Filthy Coach: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Amy Brent

“Where is she?”

  I knew who she meant. The baby. They kept her for us.

  “We should name her before we lay her to rest. I’ll arrange a funeral if you’d like.”

  She nodded. That was all we said about it. I changed the topic.

  “Marina has been arrested. There were witnesses on campus that saw what she did. She’s been charged with assault and first-degree murder.”

  Camille swallowed.

  “How are you?”

  I looked at her, frowning. After everything, she was asking about me?

  “It was your baby too.”

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat. “I thought I would lose you. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t make it.” My voice cracked and I swallowed again, taking a deep breath. “You’ve come to mean very much to me, Camille. More than anyone before. It might be too early to say this, but I nearly lost you and life is too damn short.”

  I hesitated.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  I watched her face, trying to gauge her reaction to my words. Her face was soft and she cried again, tears rolling down her cheeks. I gave her a tissue.

  “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

  She nodded. “Together is the only way we’ll be able to do it. I’d like that.”

  It wasn’t an admission of her returned love, but it didn’t have to be. She wanted me with her, to work through this together, and that was all that mattered. We could work out the rest at a later stage when everything that had happened had been laid to rest and we could find it in us to move forward.

  I was still holding her hand. She turned on her side, wincing, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and I let her slip back into sleep. Even when she drifted off her fingers still squeezed mine. She didn’t let go, and I didn’t move. I would sit here so she could hold onto my hand for as long as she needed me. I would only let go when she did.

  Camille

  18 months later

  Getting over the death of an unborn child is just as hard as getting over the death of anyone who’d been something in your life. I’d thought it would be easier to move on. It wasn’t. I thought it wouldn’t mean so much to me because she hadn’t been mine, but I’d been wrong about that.

  Mark and I had sat down and we’d named her Breanna. They’d brought her to me in a shoebox, so tiny and frail. She would have been a beautiful child. She’d never belonged to Mark and Marina. She’d belonged to me, and it had been hard letting go.

  Mark had arranged a ceremony for her. Sharon, my mother, Mark and me were the only people that had attended. I wouldn’t have been able to cope if there had been more. My mother had understood what it meant to me. She’d been there for me in a way Mark would never have been able to understand.

  The college had understood what had gone wrong – maybe they’d felt guilty that this had happened on their campus – and I’d been granted an extension. It was a semester later than all my peers, but I was finally graduating.

  I was in a room at Mark’s new house where I was getting ready for the ceremony. He’d sold the house he and Marina had shared and he’d bought this one. It was just as luxurious but it was smaller, cozier. More like Mark.

  My mother helped me with my hair, pinning it to the side. I wore the black toga and she was emotional. Everything about the gambling had come out and she was even more proud of me that I’d done something about it rather than run back home.

  It didn’t make sense to me. In my eyes, I’d just messed up.

  “Mark is going to be here, soon,” she said. I lived here with him. Mama had flown up for the ceremony. She didn’t like the fact that Mark was so much older than me, but she understood that we had been to hell and back together and even she couldn’t deny that something like that forged bonds no one could break.

  “Thank you for being here,” I said and hugged her.

  Mark honked his horn outside the house and we walked out. He came early from the office especially. He got out and opened the car doors for the both of us.

  “You look great,” he said before I got in, kissing me on the mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I smiled and got in the car. We’d been able to move on and I was happy. I was happy with him. I was happy with my life.

  The ceremony was long and boring, with speeches about greatness and tenacity and all that. Our class valedictorian made a speech about moving onward and upward and in it, she mentioned me and how I’d risen despite the odds. It was strange with all the attention on me but I smiled and nodded and hoped they would look away soon.

  When I received my award mama and Mark went crazy. Sharon was there, too, joining in on the fun.

  Afterward, we went to a restaurant, the four of us. It was a posh place, the kind that we’d been going to more often since Mark and I had started dating officially. The staff all knew Mark. I was the young new girlfriend that they’d started getting to know, too, and I got nods and smiles from all around the room. They led us to a private table in the back where the other diners were far enough removed that I didn’t feel like a celebrity. The word of Marina and what she’d done, and what had happened to me, had come out and a lot of people knew me.

  Marina had been sentenced to thirteen years in prison. I hadn’t followed the case. Mark had gone and come back with a sense of closure.

  “I want to make a toast,” Mark said after he ordered champagne. He looked at me.

  “To Camille, who had gone against all odds and come out ahead anyway.”

  Sharon and my mom lifted their glasses and we all drank champagne. The evening was beautiful. Before dessert, mama and Sharon got up.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  Mama nodded. “I’m tired.”

  “And I have a work in the morning.”

  I got up and hugged them both. “Thank you so much. For everything.” I didn’t know where I would have been without them. Mama walked away but Sharon lingered, putting her hands on my face and smiling at me. It was strangely emotional. When she left I frowned at Mark. He shrugged.

  We sat down.

  “Can I order for us?” he asked. I nodded.

  Mark flagged a waiter and picked up the dessert menu, pointing and discussing. The waiter nodded. “For the lady, I’d like your Special,” he said. The waiter smiled.

  “Of course.”

  He disappeared. Mark poured me more champagne and I laughed.

  “At this rate, you’ll get me drunk.”

  “This is just to celebrate.”

  “Another glass?”

  He shrugged. The plates with dessert came. They placed a masterpiece in front of Mark with a chocolate sculpture that looked like it had taken days. I got something similar, except it was with sugar. Underneath the webbed dome of crystallized sugar, instead of cake, sat a black velvet box. I frowned and looked at Mark.

  “What’s this?”

  He shrugged. I lifted the sugary dome and pulled out the box, opening it. In it was a ring with a diamond the size of a pea. My mouth dropped open and I looked at Mark. He’d gone down on one knee next to me.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Oh, God. I was at a loss for words. This was crazy. This was… a dream come true. I smiled, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I nodded.

  Mark took the ring and slid it onto my finger. He got up and kissed me. The waiter removed my plate and replaced it with a dessert similar to Mark’s. I laughed, overwhelmed, and we dug in.

  Life is never predictable, and often our choices lead us in a different direction that we ever could have imagined. If I hadn’t lost all my fortunes in a stupid Blackjack game I would never have met the love of my life. We’d been through so much together, the bond between us was stronger than any relationship either of us had ever had.

  There were still times when I thought of Breanna and then I ached for her, craving the feel of her inside of me again. She would always be my first child, but when Mark and I married I wanted to try
again. I wanted children of my own, children I could tell about the little girl that should have been.

  But I only wanted to do it when Mark was ready to be a father. I wanted us to be happy together. There was still a lot of time. After all, I’d only just graduated.

  We had the rest of our lives together, and I looked forward to it.

  MY Mr. Dark

  Nicole walked into the club at almost 10:00 PM, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. She'd just gotten done a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital, and she was looking to unwind. Most nights she didn't have the energy to go out after such a long day, but tonight had been different. Several gunshot victims had been rushed into the emergency room in critical condition. Two of them hadn't made it, and the third was still in intensive care. After a scene like that, the thought of being home alone in her tiny, quiet apartment was more than Nicole could bear. If she was alone with nothing but her thoughts, she wouldn't be able to get the sights from the emergency room out of her mind.

  She needed to drown the horrifying images out with some hard drinks, some loud music, and if she was lucky, maybe have some dance with a fine looking man.

  She walked up to the bar, running her fingers through her long mass of dark curls. She hadn't taken much time to make herself up that night since she didn't have the time or the energy for a big makeover after such a long and crazy day. She was wearing jeans that hugged her ample hips and did a nice job showing off her well-rounded ass. She had a low-cut, loose fitting top that showed off plenty of her caramel skin. And she had brought a confident attitude that she showed off by flashing a dazzling smile at a few of the young gentlemen she passed. Hopefully, one of them would be enraptured enough to offer to buy her a drink.

  Nicole stood by the bar for a bit, leaning against the wall and casting seductive glances at any cute guy who walked by. A couple of them stopped and offered to buy her a drink, but she could tell within the first few sentences that came out of their mouths that they weren't worth her time. The first guy actually said, “Heyyyy there, good looking,” while eyeing her up and down, and she'd simply rolled her eyes at him for being so cheesy. She didn't care for guys who were so obvious when they were hitting on her. It generally meant they didn't actually respect her, and they were only looking to get laid.

  The second guy was a bit more smooth, at first, saying that he'd love to get to know her better. But then, when she showed the slightest interest, he'd asked if she wanted to go someplace quiet, which was usually code for “someplace we can fool around.” She wasn't that easy, and she'd told him so. Though she'd at least gotten a free drink out of him before she told him to get lost.

  She was about to give up on finding anyone worth her time when a rather fine looking man dressed to the nines walked into the club. His black pants and blazer had to be professionally tailored; by the way, they fit so nicely onto his fit, muscular body. And he wore a white silk shirt with the top few buttons undone, giving her a glimpse of his manly chest. He had dirty blonde hair and a light tan; making her wonder if he spent a lot of time outdoors. He looked like the athletic type.

  She was still eyeing him, and liking what she saw, when he glanced her way. She caught his eyes, and a small smile spread across his lips. She held his gaze long enough to show her interest, then looked away coyly, waiting to see if he'd return her interest. A moment later he started crossing the room towards her.

  “Hello there,” he said, flashing her a dazzling smile.

  “Hello yourself,” she said. She held her breath for a moment, hoping this guy wouldn't turn out to be a creeper like the others she'd spoken to that night.

  “I'm Horatio,” he said extending his hand. “And may I say, it's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a lovely lady as yourself.”

  Nicole felt her face heating up. She took Horatio's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Nicole. And I think the pleasure is mine.”

  Being called a lovely lady, she thought, was way better than, Hey there, good looking.

  “What are you drinking?” Horatio asked, nodding towards the bar.

  Nicole took a sip through her straw, finishing off the drink so he could order her another. “Mojito.”

  “A lady after my own heart,” he said. He nodded to the bartender. “Two Mojitos, please.”

  While the bartender was mixing their drinks, Horatio asked, “So, Nicole, what brings your lovely self out to the club tonight? And please tell me you came here to dance.

  “Oh? And why is it so important to you?” She smiled sweetly at him.

  “Because if you don't agree to dance with me,” Horatio said, placing a hand over his heart, “I think I might just leave here a broken man.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. It was a bit of a corny line, but from the smirk on his face, she was sure he meant it all in good fun. “I never dance with a man I haven't first shared a drink with,” she said.

  “Well then,” he said with a smile, “you'll have to sit with me and have a drink.” He accepted the two drinks the bartender handed him, then led Nicole over to a table in the back, where it was a bit quieter. The music on the dance floor was loud enough that they wouldn't be able to talk out there, and Nicole definitely wanted a chance to get to know this man better.

  “Do you always come here trying to charm the ladies off their feet?” Nicole asked.

  “No,” Horatio said. “I'm in town on business, and I always like to check out the local scene when I travel. There's no better way to get to know a place than to visit the bars and clubs.”

  “And why's that?” Nicole asked.

  “Because this is where people come to relax,” Horatio said. “To unwind. To really be themselves. The face people put on at work, at school, of hell, even when they're out shopping at the mall, that's not the real you.”

  “Oh? You're not your real self when you're shopping?”

  “Of course not.” He smirked, stirring his drink with the straw. “Shopping is a social experience. People bring their friends, they ask what other people think, they want to know if the clothes they buy are the right ones. The ones that will make them stand out while fitting in. People want to be beautiful, but they don't want to seem strange or out of touch. So you always need another person's opinion.”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way,” Nicole said. She leaned forward, pursing her lips. She was fascinated by the way this man thought, and the confident way he said everything.

  “A place like this, on the other hand,” Horatio said, gesturing with his drink to the crowd, “people relax. Oh, they start off dressing up, trying to look nice, to play the part. But once you've had a few drinks and you let the music guide you, you start letting your real self show. See that guy over there?”

  He pointed to a man walking over to the dance floor. He looked pretty average, wearing black slacks and a silk shirt. Kind of cute, but he didn't stand out. “What about him?”

  “He left his jacket at the table,” Horatio said, pointing.

  Nicole looked, and saw the man's fancy blazer slung over the back of a chair.

  “It says something about him,” Horatio said. “He probably put a lot of thought into which jacket went best with that outfit, just like I did before coming here.” He smoothed his lapels, sitting a bit straighter. “But when it comes time to relax and let loose, he leaves the jacket behind. Just like the ladies who take off their fancy high heels, shoes that look gorgeous but are impossible to dance in. They set aside the glamour and the expectations, and just have a good time.”

  Nicole looked across the dance floor at all of the people letting loose and following the beat of the music. She'd never thought about it like that before, but she realized it was true. Maybe the dance floor was where you really saw people being their own true selves. It made a certain degree of sense, especially when she thought about how exposed you could feel when you were dancing. Most people she knew didn't think they were good dancers, and would never dance on a stage in front of other people.
But when you were a part of the crowd and having fun, you didn't worry about who was looking at you. It didn't matter what other people thought, or if they would judge the way that you danced. All that mattered was that you were having a good time.

  Horatio finished his drink, then held his hand out to her. “So, what do you say?” he asked. “Care to show me your real self?”

  Nicole blushed, lowering her eyes for a moment and taking a sip of her drink. With the way Horatio spoke about dancing, it suddenly seemed like a far more intimate experience than she had ever considered it before. Showing her real self to him.

  She set down her drink and looked up into his eyes. “I'd love to.”

  She took his hand and he let her out to the dance floor. At first, she was so nervous that she held back, only following Horatio's lead. But then, she told herself that dancing was supposed to be about letting go. About not caring what anyone thought. And she was sure Horatio wouldn't be the type to judge her for whether she was a good dancer or not. And if somehow he did, that would just show that he wasn't the man for her.

  She let go and just went with the music, pushing aside her inhibitions. She danced close to Horatio, their bodies touching. He put his hands on her waist, his hips gyrating in time with the beat. He held her eyes with his, his attention focused solely on her. It made her feel like she was the only woman on the dance floor.

  They danced until they were both sweaty and breathless, and then went back to the table, smiling and laughing. Nicole was having a great time, and she didn't want the night to end. And she was sure that Horatio must have felt the same way. He kept looking into her eyes, and when he reached up and brushed his fingers gently against her cheek, she was sure that he wanted something more.

  Then his cell phone chimed, spoiling the moment. “Damn,” he muttered, letting out a long sigh. He pulled out the phone and checked the screen, his cheerful expression dropping into a disappointed glower.

  “I'm truly sorry,” he said, tucking the phone away. “It's something urgent. It really can't wait.”