“You really want me to meet your family?” I ask uncomfortably.
“Of course,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“What are you going to tell them about me?” There’s a note of panic in my voice. “What are you going to say if they ask how we met?”
“We can tell my family whatever we want to tell them. But honestly they care so little about me and my life they probably won’t even bother to ask.”
That feels like a punch in the gut. When my parents were alive they wanted to know everything. Sometimes I thought they cared about me too much. “How could your parents not care about you?”
“Because I’m not like them. Have you ever seen those television shows where babies were accidently switched at birth? Two kids born the same day were mixed up in the hospital and the families ended up taking home the wrong babies? That’s how I’ve felt my entire life. Like I was somehow switched at birth and ended up with the wrong family. The only person who I ever resembled in any way was my maternal grandfather. He was a bit eccentric. An inventor. Apparently he held thousands of patents for his inventions and manufactured toys. He loved history. Many of his toys and games were historical in nature.”
“Is that where your passion for history came from?” I ask.
“Maybe. And I guess I also inherited my bad taste in clothes.”
“It’s not bad taste,” I tell him trying to redeem myself. “The only reason I even asked was because I wondered if you’d mind me buying you some new clothes.”
He shakes his head rather vehemently. “No.”
“No you don’t mind or no you don’t want me to buy you new clothes.”
“I don’t want you spending any of your money on me. Ever. That money is for you.”
“You’ve given me so much. I really don’t mind...”
“No.”
There’s an awkward tension in the air between us. I’m not sure what to say to make things right again.
Dante has his eyes firmly planted on the road. He hasn’t even glanced over at me, which is unusual. Most of the time he can’t take his eyes off of me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean...”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mean to be an asshole about the clothes. It’s just—I have more money than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes. I don’t want you to spend money on me. It doesn’t make sense.”
His face is filled with so much pain and fear it makes my heart ache. “Are we okay?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you glad you decided to ask me a question?”
“I guess I just felt like I wanted to get to know you a little better.”
That actually brings a smile to his face. A slight ghost of a smile, but still a smile. “Maybe someday we can go clothes shopping together? I’ll pay for some new clothes, but you can pick them out. How does that sound?”
“I’d like that.”
I enjoy the cool evening breeze in my face. “This is my first time in a convertible,” I admit.
“Do you like it?”
“It doesn’t hurt that this is a fantastic car.”
“I agree with what you said earlier. It doesn’t truly suit me.”
We’re both lost in our own thoughts for a few moments until he says, “I’d like to take you someplace special for dinner tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I try to sound as enthusiastic about the plans as he does, but I feel like things are going too far too fast. He’s definitely treating me more like his girlfriend than a mistress, and that’s not really what I signed up for.
I signed up for the once a week sex with the old, horny guy that my student talked about. I didn’t know I was going to be some kind of pseudo girlfriend of a somewhat socially awkward twenty-two-year-old.
“Now where?” Dante asks as he pulls off the highway.
I give him brief instructions to get to my sister’s house: two rights and a left, until we’re in her very middle class neighborhood. My sister’s house is nice, but quite modest. When she and her husband bought the place ten years ago it didn’t cost that much more than Dante’s car.
It makes me wonder what kind of place Dante’s parents live in. Anyone who can afford to buy five cars, each worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, probably lives in a place worth millions.
My sister and her husband both own junkers that often have to be jumpstarted to get them running, but at least they’re paid for. Both of their cars take up the small driveway, so Dante parks on the street in front of their house.
Before he unlocks the car doors Dante turns to face me. “Thanks for inviting me along tonight. It means a lot to me.”
“I know.”
He reaches over and caresses my cheek. Then he gives me a quick kiss.
“Ready to spend the evening with three extremely energetic kids?”
He smiles. “I can’t wait.”
I barely have a chance to knock on the door before my sister answers it. Something tells me she heard us pull up and has been peeking out at us through her window.
Virginia is two years younger than I am. She just turned thirty, but she’s been married for ten years. She chose not to go to college and married her high school sweetheart. She worked for a few years as a receptionist at her husband’s building company, but has been a stay-at-home mom since her first child, Ruby, was born.
Virginia gained weight with each successive pregnancy and never seemed to be able to take it off. Even though we’re the same height my little sister outweighs me by about forty pounds.
Her shoulder length dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She’s definitely dressed for a ballgame.
The smile on her normally bubbly face completely fades when her eyes land on Dante. Her big, brown eyes grow even wider and her jaw drops before she realizes it and then quickly bites her lip.
“This is Dante,” I tell her. “Dante, this is my sister, Virginia.”
She gulps before she says, “Nice to meet you,” but her voice still cracks.
Dante gives her a barely-there half-smile in return. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
This is even more awkward than I anticipated.
Virginia stares at Dante for several more excruciatingly long seconds before she finally says, “Come in.”
She steps away from the door to make room for the two of us to enter.
Virginia’s house looks lived in. My sister and her husband, Matt, have had the same furniture for the past decade and with three active kids it’s well worn.
Matt is seated on his lounge chair drinking a beer. When he’s not at work that’s typically where you’ll find him. He’s a sports fanatic and spends nearly all of his free time watching whatever sport happens to be in season.
As a builder Matt spends the majority of his days working outdoors. A decade of hard labor outside in the elements has definitely taken a toll on him. His weathered face makes him look like he’s a decade older than his wife.
Matt never got along very well with Doug. The two men didn’t have anything in common. Doug didn’t know the difference between a hammer and a screwdriver. When work needed to be done around our house he’d always say, “We’ll just hire someone to do that.” And he would have much rather listened to jazz or read a book than “waste his time” watching sports. I can’t remember Matt and Doug saying more than ten words to each other in the last ten years.
I anticipate things with Dante could be worse. I hold my breath when Matt rises from his chair and extends a hand to Dante.
“I’m Matt. Virginia’s other half.”
Dante shakes Matt’s hand. The two men couldn’t be more different, at least on the outside. Matt is slightly shorter than Dante, but easily outweighs him by fifty pounds of mostly muscle. And Matt’s dirty blonde hair and big blue eyes are a sharp contrast to Dante’s dark features.
“Want a beer?” Matt asks.
“
Sure,” Dante replies to my surprise.
“Have any predictions for the season?” Matt points to the baseball game on television.
I remember like it was yesterday when Matt asked Doug a similar question the night they met. Only that night Matt was watching a basketball game. Doug didn’t even know what sport Matt was watching much less anything about the season.
“They may have a shot at winning the division this year,” Dante replies. “I like their starting pitcher. To me a great pitching performance can mean dominance in a game or even a series.”
“I agree,” Matt says, placing a hand on Dante’s shoulder and leading him into the kitchen.
“What just happened?” I ask Virginia when she approaches.
“It looks like Matt found someone to talk baseball with.”
I shake my head. That was the last thing I expected.
“So how old is Dante?” Virginia asks. She’s never been one to let an elephant just sit there in the middle of a room for too long. She always addresses it.
“Twenty-two,” I tell her.
“Wow, that’s young. Not that I’m judging.”
“Saying, ‘Wow, that’s young’ kind of is judging.”
“I know everything that happened with Doug messed with your head a little bit.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think? And I haven’t had a chance to tell you that he drained every last cent out of our bank account and was two months behind on all of our bills, including the mortgage.”
Her brow furrows. “That’s harsh.”
I nod. I debate coming clean and telling her everything...the whole ugly truth about my arrangement with Dante.
“You can’t tell him I’m a college professor. Don’t even mention it.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Why?”
This is it. The moment of truth. “Dante and I have a unique relationship.”
“You mean besides the fact that you’re ten years older.”
I nod.
“Care to enlighten me?” She eyes me expectantly.
“Remember what you said about not judging?”
“Just tell me...”
I take in a deep breath and exhale. “Dante and I have an arrangement.”
“What does that mean?”
“I didn’t want to lose my house and I had no money to pay the delinquent mortgage payments. I heard about this place called The Club. They make arrangements for wealthy men.”
As I continue with my story I see my sister’s eyes start to slowly widen.
“Dante comes from an extremely wealthy family and he’s paying me to be with him.”
Virginia is blinking so fast it’s like she has dirt caught in her eyes. Then she moves in very close and whispers, “Are you saying he’s paying you to have sex with him?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“How much?” she asks.
“A lot.”
“Ball park figure.”
“Ten thousand dollars a month.”
She chokes. “Did you say ten thousand? A month?”
I nod.
“Holy shit! I’d fuck him for ten thousand dollars a month. He’s kind of cute, in a nerdy sort of way. For that kind of money I think Matt would be okay with it. He’s counting down the days before Opal goes to school so I can get a job.”
I know my sister isn’t serious. She would never cheat on her husband. But I’m glad to know that she’s willing to accept what I’m doing.
“Are you really thinking about going back to work next year?” I ask.
“I’m definitely not having another kid. Matt got snipped. So there’s no reason for me not to work once Opal’s in kindergarten.”
“What do you think you’ll do?” I ask.
She laughs. “Having sex for money sounds tempting. At least it’s something I know I’m good at.”
“I think I’m getting in a little over my head,” I admit. “I was under the impression that I’d just have to have sex with some old, horny guy once or twice a week, but Claudia, the owner of the The Club paired me with Dante. He’s obviously not old and he wants a lot more than just sex. He wants me to be like a girlfriend.”
“He’s definitely not old, but is he horny?”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s twenty-two. What do you think?”
She shakes her head. “I remember the days when Matt wanted to have sex constantly. Then we had kids. Now we’re lucky if we can sneak a quickie in once a week.”
“You’re lucky you have three beautiful girls,” I tell her.
She sighs. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”
It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I would never be able to have children, especially when my younger sister was able to pop out three with seemingly no difficulty at all.
“Speak of the devils,” my sister says when her three girls come charging downstairs.
Opal, the baby, is now four. Pearl, their middle child is six and Ruby, their first born, is eight. All three of them have long brown hair and brown eyes. They’re all rail thin, no doubt because they’re so active. And they all look like miniatures of me. Funny the way genetics works.
“Aunt Mary,” Opal screams before she gives me a running hug. Pearl and Ruby follow close behind and pounce on me.
For several moments I’m sandwiched between the three sisters while they squeeze me in a four-way hug.
“We’re building a fort,” Ruby informs me. “It’s the biggest one we’ve ever made.”
“We want you to hide in the fort with us,” Pearl says.
“I have a friend with me,” I tell her. “Can he hide in the fort too?”
Pearl’s eyes grow wide. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I nod.
She furrows her brow as if she’s giving this some thought. “Are you allowed?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were married,” she clarifies. “Are you allowed to have a boyfriend?”
“You know my husband, Doug, died. So that means I’m a widow. That’s the name for women whose husbands die. Widows are allowed to have boyfriends.”
“Are you going to marry your boyfriend?” She sounds extremely curious about this entire situation.
“No,” I tell her. When I glance up I realize that Dante has entered the room with his beer. He obviously overhead at least the last few lines of conversation because he looks like I just slapped him.
“Why not?” Pearl asks. “Why don’t you want to marry your boyfriend?”
Dante downs whatever is left in his bottle in one gulp. Then he stares at me, obviously waiting for me to respond to Pearl.
“It’s complicated,” I tell her. “Women don’t always marry their boyfriends.”
“I’m going to marry my boyfriend,” she tells me.
“Aren’t you a little young to have a boyfriend?”
She shakes her head.
Ruby grabs my hand. “We want to take you to the fort.”
“Maybe after dinner,” I suggest. “Then we’ll have plenty of time to hide in there.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Pearl asks excitedly as soon as she spots Dante. “He’s cute!”
When I move closer to Dante he gives me a cold stare that chills me.
“This is Dante,” I tell the girls, who have all followed me.
“This is Opal, Pearl and Ruby.” I point to each girl as I say her name.
“Beautiful jewels.” I’m surprised when he gives them a huge grin. I’ve never seen him smile like that before. Maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he liked kids.
“And how old are you?” Dante asks.
“I’m four,” Opal states.
“Six!” Pearl shouts.
“I’m eight,” Ruby says. “How old are you?”
“It’s rude to ask adults how old they are,” I say quickly.
Dante shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I’m twenty-two.”
Ruby seems to consider this for a long momen
t. “Aunt Mary is thirty-two.”
He nods. “I know.”
Pearl tugs on my sleeve. “Isn’t your boyfriend supposed to be your age?”
“Not always, Pearl.”
“Is that why you don’t want to marry him?” she asks.
When I glance at Dante he’s looking at me expectantly, like he wants the answer to the question just as much as Pearl does.
“Dante hasn’t been my boyfriend very long, Pearl. It takes time for people to get to know each other. Your mom and dad got to know each other for three years before they got married.”
That seems to appease her, at least for a while. Dante is another story entirely. He’s shooting daggers at me.
“Time to get washed up for dinner,” Virginia tells the girls as she tries to wrangle them towards the bathroom.
When we’re finally alone Dante corners me. His eyes blaze into mine. “I’m not too young for you.”
“Okay,” I agree, even though a big part of me feels like he’s way too young for me.
Then he kisses me. A hot and hungry kiss that leaves me a little dizzy. When he presses his body against mine I can feel him getting hard. “We’re great together,” he whispers in my ear. “Later tonight I’m going to remind you.”
My knees weaken a little thinking about having him inside of me again. I have to admit that every time we’re together the sex keeps getting better.
Dante and I jump apart when we hear a male voice clear his throat behind us.
Matt scratches his head uncomfortably. “Virginia wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready.” He looks like he wants to be anywhere on Earth other than catching us making out in the corner.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Matt nods and heads back toward the kitchen.
When we’re alone again I place my hand on Dante’s chest. “You’ll have to keep it in your pants for a little while.”
“Not easy to do when you’re around. I’m like Pavlov’s dog and you’re my bell. I’m now conditioned to get hard whenever I look at you.”
“They’ll probably only be at the game for a few hours,” I tell him. “They don’t like to stay out late. We’ll have the rest of the evening to ourselves.”
Sapphire Beautiful Page 7
