His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  Finally, after two weeks in paradise, we board the private jet once more. My darling has a tan from sitting out by the swimming pool in her yellow and white striped designer bathing suit. One day, I convinced her to take it off and sunbathe in the nude. It was a gorgeous vision, and of course I devoured her. How could I stop myself from thrusting into that tight little pussy slit, from milking those hard young breasts?

  Not that there was any milk actually coming out. But maybe, just maybe, with all this dirty unprotected sex we’ve been up to, my baby will be pregnant soon. Which makes the ring an even bigger deal. I’m not old fashioned, but I just think it would make things even more magical between us. The vow of fidelity. The merging of our two worlds. Two people becoming one. After all, I don’t have a family anymore so Lacy’s it, and I want to keep her close. I look at her angelic sleeping face as we cross the Atlantic in my jet.

  Finally, she wakes like Sleeping Beauty awaking from her centuries-long slumber.

  “Are you looking forward to getting back to The Penthouse?” I tease.

  “Of course! I can’t wait to get back and see Edwin, and of course, my Aunt Margaret. I even brought back a bottle of limoncello for old Albie!”

  I chuckle, helping her step off the plane and board a helicopter that will deliver us at my building.

  “Albie does like a drink from time to time.”

  The helicopter lifts off and we’re soaring, approaching the island of Manhattan from up above. The view is breathtaking, but nothing compares to my baby.

  “And the portraits? Are you ready to get back to being painted?”

  “Oh, Howie. Yes I am. I just think maybe you should come with me to the next session?”

  I hear the question in her voice.

  “Come with? Why, does the painter make you uncomfortable?”

  She speaks quickly.

  “Oh no, it’s not that. It’s just that I think you would help him if you shared your vision of the paintings with him. I want to make sure you get exactly what you’re paying for.”

  I nod as we soar over Central Park. She’s right. It was kind of an oversight on my part to begin the painting process without meeting the artist. I just trusted Edwin to make an informed decision.

  “Is he a well-known painter?” I ask curiously. Not that I really know anything about art. All those gallery parties I’ve been to throughout my last decade were pretty boring. But then again, it wasn’t their fault. It was me. I was a shell-shocked mess after the war, and nothing could touch my soul.

  Until now. I take Lacy’s left hand in mine. I feel her ring finger and the space I want my ring to go. I lean over and kiss her neck. That’s one of her favorite spots. She starts to melt in her chair. My little girl is horny. I should have known. It’s been hours since I last suckled her pink clit. We’ll be heading straight to the Jungle Room once we land … and I’ll make my favorite girl scream with the best of them.

  CHAPTER 13

  LACY

  Oh my god! I’m freaking out but I can’t show Howie how scared I am because I don’t want him to worry. Because as soon as we circled the United States coastline in the private jet, I started to get the text messages. The texts were pretty harmless, but they were from Charlie. I deleted his number from my phone years ago, but it doesn’t matter because Charlie sent me pictures of his sketches.

  I can see that he hasn’t deleted my phone number yet. This is wildly inappropriate. But at the same time, wouldn’t this happen in a professional painter-subject relationship? I just don’t know. That’s why I asked Howie to come with me to the next session. As I enter the penthouse, I see Edwin and give him a hug. I give Albie her present and she is happy. She’s been a little mean to me ever since I got promoted from maid to mistress. Well, not mistress. Sometimes I feel like a dirty slut on the side of this rich man’s life, but from the way he told me he loves me in the barn on the villa, I just know it. Howie is the one.

  “Lacy, Howie, welcome home.” Edwin is beaming. “Look, I know you’ve just arrived, but the painter is scheduled for today. For right now in fact. He’s waiting in the studio.”

  Before I can speak, words jump out of Howie’s mouth.

  “Bring him up. We need to meet each other.”

  I’m so sick to my stomach. I don’t know if Edwin can see my fear, so I try to play it cool. I slide down the hallway of oil paintings and towards the bedroom. I lay down my satchel and walk to the bathroom before splashing water on my face. I have no desire to hurt Howie. In fact, it’s the last thing I want. All I really desire is to make sure Charlie gets some money so he can start his new life, without me.

  Oh god. All of this worrying is going to make me break out, so I slather bee pollen cream on my face when Howie pops his head in. He’s smiling because he doesn’t suspect a thing.

  “Baby, I wanted to get you right into the Jungle Room, but I guess our homecoming celebration is going to have to wait. But I crave you Princess. Your juicy cunt on my lips.” He licks his lips and a shiver of pleasure runs down my spine. If only I could be in my lacey negligee right now, spread eagle on the circle bed while pushing my gushing cunt in my man’s mouth and then pulsing up and down on his massive shaft. God, what I wouldn’t give to have all of this melt away! But the painter is here. He’s in the living room waiting.

  I slip off my flight outfit and into something more comfortable. I need to breathe. I put on simple leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that comes off one shoulders. I let my blond hair fall down from its bun. Here we go. I can do it.

  I enter the living room and Charlie and Howie are already chatting.

  “Hey hon,” Howie says, turning my way. “This is Charlie Baker from my tour in Afghanistan. We were in the same squad together! What a coincidence because I haven’t seen this guy for almost a decade.”

  Howie wraps his arm around Charlie, who sort of fake smiles in his painter smock. His beard has grown out since we went away. He looks like a total bohemian from 1920’s Paris. This can’t be happening.

  “Wow, what a coincidence,” I say with fake enthusiasm, but inside, my soul is curdling because I can’t believe I’m deceiving my man. I need to tell him that Charlie was once my boyfriend, and that we even lived together.

  “You look nice, Lacy,” says Charlie formally, assessing my body. I hope Howie takes it as an artistic once-over, and not the male / female kind of once-over.

  Howard just laughs.

  “Now Charlie. You wouldn’t be making eyes at my Lacy now, would you?” he says. I shoot Charlie a nervous look. Doesn’t he remember our agreement?

  “Of course not. It’s just that-”

  “What?” asks Howie.

  “It’s just that I’ve never seen her look so pretty as she does right now.”

  Fuck Charlie! I feel my cheeks go hot. Howie cocks his head to the right and looks confused.

  “You mean, from the last time you saw her? During the first painting session?”

  I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. The tension between the two men is mounting.

  Charlie is falling over himself trying to make amends.

  “Yes,” he speaks quickly. “Since the first painting session. I’ve never seen her look so pretty. Because we’ve never met before.”

  Oh god, he’s only making it worse. What a bumbling fool. But it’s too late because Howie has a frown on his face.

  “Look, we’re friends here,” says my man. “And I respect you, and your new career path, but listen. If you make even one more comment about the way Lacy looks, if you even look at her with the slightest hint of interest, I’ll-”

  I can’t stand it anymore. I leap up and run down the hallway and to the staircase. I run up the stair case and to the luxury rooftop patio. I look out over the city as I press myself into the rail. God I’ve never been so high up before. I’ve never seen such an incredible view. All of this, at my fingertips. And I’ve almost ruined it by letting Howie be tricked! I should have told him the moment Charlie go
t here that we used to date.

  I’m in too deep! I’m in way too deep!

  I let out a frustrated scream that nobody below can hear. There’s only one person in this world who really cares and understands, and that’s Aunt Margaret. I run back down the staircases, to the elevator and down to the curb. I catch a taxi all the way to the Lower East Side. I need my Aunt right now … because this situation just became toxic.

  CHAPTER 14

  HOWIE

  Lacy bolts out of the living room and I’m left standing with the painter. Did he do what I think he just did? Did he make a pass at her?

  “I won’t do it again Howie. I’m sorry, it’s just that, she’s so beautiful.”

  I scowl at the man. What the hell is going on? There’s some weird vibes in the room, and I need to understand what’s happening. Besides, what right does he have to come in here and talk about Lacy’s beauty? That’s just not right. I understand he’s a painter and all, and he has to be engaged by the subject of his art, but goddamn. Something about Charlie Baker’s comments disturb me to my core.

  And what the hell is going on with my girl? She ran out of the room like there was a bee in her bonnet. Lacy’s not like that usually. My female can get hot and bothered, but it’s generally in the bedroom, and not because of some comments from a seedy artist.

  So I turn towards Charlie with a suspicious look.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I grunt. Memories of when he was just a cadet run through my mind. I remember helping him tie his bootstraps in basic training. I remember him going from a little twerp from New Jersey to a full grown man with ripped muscles and an attitude.

  The muscles were still there, but the attitude’s gone.

  “You know what happened to me Howie,” he whispers with tears in his eyes. “You know more than anyone else in the world.”

  That’s when we say it at the same time.

  “Car Bomb. Afghanistan. 2007.”

  He lifts up his smock and shows me the deep wound on his right forearm. I lift up my pant leg and show him the place where the metal almost sliced my leg off.

  “She’s the only thing I ever cared about Howie,” says Charlie.

  I’m dumbstruck. What are we talking about?

  “I’m sorry, who?”

  Charlie shakes his head.

  “She’s the only thing that ever got me through the pain.” He looks like he’s going to cry.

  I shoot him a confused look.

  “Do you mean Lacy? You’ve only known each other for one day, so you’re over your head man. You didn’t know her back then. Goddamn Charlie, the war really fucked you up, didn’t it?” I pat him on the back. “Look, take a deep breath and calm down. Stay here while I go and get Lacy. We’ll work this out.”

  But Lacy’s nowhere to be found. I check the Jungle Room, the rooftop, and even my study. But there’s no trace of the beautiful girl. Where the hell is my princess?

  Charlie looks at me from the white leather couch when I re-enter the studio.

  “I’m sorry,” I say formally. “I have no idea where she is right now. We’ll have to cancel today’s portrait session and continue some other time.”

  Charlie’s silent for a moment before speaking.

  “She’s probably at her Aunt Margaret’s,” he says.

  I stop cold in my tracks.

  “What did you just say?”

  “She’s probably at Margaret’s,” he repeats again tiredly. Fuck. How much did Lacy tell Charlie about her life? This doesn’t make any sense.

  But suddenly, the clouds part and I have a flash of insight. Holy shit, they know each other from before. Somehow my girl and this loser artist were entangled in some manner. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

  “What the hell Charlie?”

  “I’m just telling the truth. That’s where she always went when we had fights.”

  “What the fuck Charlie. What the FUCK is going on here?”

  “Nothing,” he shakes his head sadly. “I’m just a painter now.”

  I hurl my fist at a lamp, which falls to the floor and breaks. I’m sorely tempted to punch the wall except that these walls have aluminum plate behind the woodwork.

  “Are you two sleeping together? Tell me right now you mother fucker!”

  “No.”

  “Say it again! Did you put your cock in her mouth? Her pussy? You tell me.”

  “No, we were waiting until marriage.”

  That makes me even angrier, my temperature shooting through the roof.

  “What the fuck Charlie! Don’t fuck with me!”

  I’m fuming. I see my old squad mate sitting there in front of me, still as a rock. There’s no light in his eyes whatsoever. Fuck, I can’t think about this right now because all I can see in my mind’s eye is Lacy. Lacy is somewhere far from me. The pain shoots a knife through my heart. My heart is all hers.

  Fuck, Charlie’s right anyway. She is probably at Margaret’s. I throw a glass cup on the marble and storm out of the living room. I’m on a mission now. I haven’t felt this much urgency since my days overseas. So without any hesitation, I hop into my Maserati and speed through New York City like the world was about to end. When I see Aunt Margaret’s apartment, I’m amazed. She’s had the whole front of it painted like a rainbow. There are whimsical flowers and animals dancing over the brick in a glorious mural. It should look awful, but it’s actually quite charming.

  But I’m not in the mood for charming. I’m in the mood for answers.

  I burst through the front doors, and run up the stairs as if my life depended on it. The air in my chest is tight, and I feel like I’m about to lose someone again. I’m transported back to that day when I carried my dead mother to the hospital on quaking knees. Before I enter Margaret’s flat, a prayer escapes my lips.

  Please God. Don’t let it be too late this time.

  I open the door. There, on the Victorian tapestry couch is Aunt Margaret, and she’s holding my Lacy in her arms. The blonde girl is crying, absolutely sobbing into her aunt’s breast.

  “Lacy,” I say, my heart thumping like a drum. I come down next to her and kneel. I look up in Margaret’s eyes. She nods to me.

  “Lacy baby. Tell me what’s wrong. Was it Charlie Baker? Did he scare you?”

  “Howie darling,” says Margaret gently. “Charlie Baker is the man Lacy has been running from. That’s her ex-boyfriend.”

  The words cut me like a thousand tiny knives. Oh my god.

  “But- but- Lacy? Oh my god. It all makes sense. Lacy, how did he come into our home?”

  Lacy heaves a sob onto her aunt’s velvet coated chest, and it’s Margaret who answers instead.

  “Your butler hired him Howie. It’s nobody’s fault. It was an honest mistake. Lacy feels terrible about it.”

  Lacy lifts up her eyes and meets mine.

  “Baby, I would have never done anything to hurt you,” she mewls. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before we left for Italy. I just thought we could sweep it under the rug. I never wanted to remember him ever again.”

  “Lacy, oh my beautiful girl,” I murmur. I run my hand over her beautiful leg. “You didn’t have to be afraid of telling me the truth.”

  But Lacy’s inconsolable.

  “I lied to you,” she whispers, unable to meet my eyes. “I should have told you about Charlie when we did that first session, but I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry for not telling you right away.”

  I frown for a moment.

  “That was wrong,” I say smoothly. “I would have appreciated knowing but it’s no big deal, darling. Even Charlie told me that nothing’s happened between you two.”

  “He did?” she raises her head, eyes wide and blinking. “He said that?”

  I nod.

  “Why, did you expect him to say something different?”

  Slowly, Lacey nods.

  “Yes. I thought that he’d make something up because back when we dated, Charlie was a different person. He used to
make me feel worthless by saying things like “You need to lose weight,” or “You need to sex it up.” It was a bad time.”

  My mouth immediately frowns when I hear any other man making comments about my woman’s looks, even if it was years ago. But I take a deep breath and get my bearings.

  “It’s fine,” I say in a calm voice. “It was a long time ago, and I know you don’t feel anything for him now.”

  “I don’t!” Lacy cries, flying into my arms now and burrowing her head against my chest. “Because I love you, Howard Bates. You’re the only man for me, and I was so afraid of losing you.”

  Suddenly, I realize what a tough life Lacy has had. She’s had no real rock to depend on. Although her Aunt Margaret provides emotional support, the woman’s also somewhat ditzy, even in her old age. So Lacy’s never had anyone, and she was afraid that I was going to take off at the first sign of trouble as well.

  But I’m not that man. Once you’ve been in a foxhole as a firefight rages up above, it takes more than a slovenly ex to scare me away. So I hold her tight, pressing my lips against that blonde head.