by Mia Ford
And I wanted to fuck her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.
By the time I got home, Manhattan was dark. I handed the keys of my Porsche over to Ernesto, the valet of my building, then took the elevator to the penthouse suite. I’d known that I was going to be late, so I’d asked Hannah to watch over Brett. It was much too late for Isabelle – she normally got here at five in the morning, and I’d given Hannah three hundred bucks just to order a pizza and hang out with my son for the night.
The foyer was dark.
“Brett?” I called quietly. “You awake, bud?”
Inside there was no sign of Brett or Hannah. I frowned, kicking off my shoes and unbuttoning the first buttons on my shirt. In the living room, the television was stuck on muted cartoons. I frowned. As I got closer, I saw Brett curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a throw blanket over his lap.
Anger ripped through my body. As gently as I could, I shook Brett awake.
“Hey, buddy,” I said. “Where’s Hannah? Why didn’t you sleep in your room?”
Brett yawned in my face, sending a wave of pizza-breath over my senses.
“Come on,” I said. I scooped him up in my arms and carried him down the hall, nudging his door open with my foot and carrying Brett inside. By the time I set him down in bed, he was practically asleep once again. After I tucked him in, I gently closed his door and started stalking down the hall. I had no fucking idea what made Hannah think it was okay to let my kid fall asleep on the couch and then leave. She’d had explicit orders from me to stay until I returned home. And even if some kind of emergency had taken place, she could have left a note! She could’ve called me!
I pushed open the door to my bedroom. Hannah was lying on my bed, clad in a jade silk robe that barely covered the round cheeks of her ass. When she saw me, she gave me a sexy smile.
“I thought you’d never come home,” Hannah said in a sleepy, purring voice. She stood up and stretched. The dark green silk parted, showing a black lacy bra and panties.
“What the fuck is going on,” I asked, trying to keep my voice low for the sake of my sleeping son.
Hannah pouted and walked closer, swaying her narrow hips. “I thought you’d be pleased,” she said. She stuck out her lower lip.
I drew back my arm and slapped her across the face.
“You fucking ignored my son all night,” I growled, grabbing the collar of the robe and pulling Hannah close. “You fucking let him fall asleep on the goddamned couch and then what? Stayed here, waiting for me? What the fuck were you thinking?”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. She puckered her lips and tried to kiss me but I shoved her away.
“No,” I snapped. “This is fucked up! You don’t get to try to seduce me, you fucking understand?”
“Thomas, I love you,” Hannah said. “We should be together. I’ve always wanted to be with you, and now is our chance.”
“You’re fucking insane,” I roared. “And you’re fired. Now!”
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t fire me,” she snapped. “I could sue you for sexual harassment!”
Up until then, I’d tried to keep my anger as contained as possible.
“Fuck you,” I snarled in her face. “You think you could sue me and win?” I laughed hollowly, throwing back my head. “I could crush you in court,” I said. “No one would ever believe you.”
Hannah’s face fell – I could tell that she knew I was right. Still, she tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder and smirked.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Hannah said icily. “You know better than to do that, Thomas,” she added, spitting the last word like a curse. “You wouldn’t want that kind of publicity, and you know it.”
I rolled my eyes and threw my hands into the air. “Get the fuck out of my condo before I call the cops and tell them you’re trespassing,” I said.
Hannah sulked. She turned towards me and licked her lips. “Thomas…don’t you want me?” She put her hands to her breasts and rolled her eyes back in her head. I watched as she slid her hands down her body. Hannah was beautiful – almost all men stared at her – but somehow, I’d never felt attracted to her as anything more than a passing glance.
“No,” I said shortly. “I don’t want you, Hannah. I want you to get your things and leave. And I want you know that if you ever try to trespass at my office or in my home, I will have you arrested on the spot.”
Hannah blinked. It seemed like the severity of the situation was finally starting to sink in that thick, blonde skull of hers.
“Now,” I said sharply. “Come on.”
Hannah still didn’t move. Her feet remained firmly planting in the plush white carpet. When another second passed and she hadn’t moved, I grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her out of my bedroom.
“Wait,” Hannah shrieked. “My clothes!”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled. “If you wake Brett, I’ll make you regret it.”
Hannah glared viciously at me as I dragged her towards the front door. When I got to the foyer, I wrenched open the door and dragged her into the harshly lit hallway.
“Stay here,” I ordered. I slammed the door in Hannah’s face before stalking through the apartment and grabbing her clothes, shoes, and purse. When I returned to the hall, Hannah was standing there, leaning against the wall and smirking.
“You think you’ve won,” Hannah said softly. “You think you intimidate me.” She threw her head back and laughed. “The truth is, you asshole, you don’t know anything about me.”
“Good,” I snarled. I dropped her clothes and purse on the floor, taking satisfaction when the bag spilled all over. “Now leave.”
Hannah gave me one last, lingering sulky glance before pulling her jeans on and grabbing her things. I stood in the door and watched as she got into the elevator and disappeared.
With a sigh, I turned and walked back into my condo. Brett was standing in the hall, looking small and scared.
“Dad, what happened?” His voice was trembling.
“Nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry about it,” I added.
“Dad, I’m hungry,” Brett said. “Hannah never ordered dinner. She just told me to watch TV until I fell asleep.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry,” I said. “She’s not coming back here. I fired her.”
“Oh.” Brett frowned. “Are you okay?”
I sighed. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Come on, let’s order a pizza.”
Brett grinned and raced into the living room, jumping on the couch. After a few seconds, I smiled. This wasn’t exactly the end of the night that I’d wanted, and all thoughts of sexy June had been pushed from my head. But if it meant that I had a chance to finally bond with my son, I didn’t care. After all, Brett was the most important thing in my life. And I would’ve done anything to make sure he realized that.
--
In the morning, I woke up and sat in bed for a long time, reading the paper. I could hear Isabelle and Brett chatting animatedly in the kitchen, and the whole condo smelled of bacon and soft-boiled eggs.
When I finally got into the kitchen, Brett grinned. I grinned back – maybe this was for the best, maybe the departure of Hannah would finally mean that Brett and I would be close.
“Hey, Dad, Isabelle brought a surprise,” Brett said. He held up a bunch of comics.
“Oh, that’s nice, did you say thank you?” I raised my eyebrow.
Brett nodded.
“He was very polite,” Isabelle said. She smiled. “Would you like some eggs, Mr. Thomas?”
I nodded, helping myself to a piece of bacon from the platter on the island. It was perfect – not too crisp, not too soggy.
“Thanks, Isabelle,” I said. I took the plate she offered, neatly cutting the top of one soft-boiled egg and taking a bite.
Brett smiled again. “Hey, Dad, can we go to the zoo this weekend?”
“Sure,” I said. “Is Saturday okay? You want any
friends to come?”
Brett nodded. He put his dishes in the sink and then raced into the living room. Isabelle threw an affectionate smile towards him.
“He’s growing up so fast,” she said.
I nodded and reached for my laptop, pulling it closer. As soon as it booted, I opened my email and frowned. Sixty-three emails…a bit high for a Saturday morning.
But when I saw the first subject line, my heart sank. It was from Hannah.
“Urgent – Need To Discuss Last Night.”
I groaned inwardly as I opened it and was greeted with a solid wall of text. Frowning, I leaned closer and began to read. As I scanned the page, my stomach twisted into a furious series of knots. By the time I was through, I was shaking with rage. That little cunt, I thought, slamming my laptop shut. She isn’t getting away with this shit.
“Mr. Thomas?” Isabelle looked up at me with concern. “You okay?”
“No,” I said shortly. “But I will be.”
Chapter Eight
June
On Saturday, Angela and I went out shopping. I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone other than her, but I was desperate to find something that wouldn’t made me look like a little kid in the eyes of Thomas. We went from department store to department store, looking at dresses, lingerie, and shoes.
“What about this?” I held up a grey silk bra, La Perla, with the cups done in lace.
“It wouldn’t look right on you,” Angela said. She frowned and stepped closer. “Let me have a look.” She shuffled the shopping bags from one arm to the other, hoisting them high on her shoulder. “What about this?”
I frowned. Angela was holding up a white cotton chemise, slightly sheer.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’d look like Anne of Green Gables,” I said, twisting my lips.
Angela laughed. “It would be sexy on you!”
“I want something sexier,” I said, pushing the chemise aside and rifling through a table of brightly-colored silk panties. “Like this,” I added, holding up a pair of black silk undies.
Angela burst out laughing. “June, those are crotchless.”
“What?!” I dropped the black silk on the table, blushing hotly. My flush deepened when I realized that people all over the store were staring at us.
“June, come over here,” Angela said. “Put those down,” she added, pointing to an emerald pair of undies clutched in my hands.
Frowning, I followed Angela out of lingerie and into outerwear.
“Getting a coat would be just covering up even more,” I said in irritation.
“No, I’m not talking about that,” Angela said. She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, okay?” She pulled me over to the shoe department. “What about just…you know, kind of modifying your everyday wardrobe?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “What exactly do you mean?”
Angela sighed and rolled her eyes. “Like, I don’t know.” She gestured down at my outfit. I glanced down, half-expecting the solution to pop into my head. I was wearing slim jeans, a white blouse, and a black cardigan with the first button fastened.
“I still don’t get it,” I said.
“So, you look cute,” Angela said. “But what if you traded your pants for something that came above your ankles, and then wore heels?”
“That sounds painful.”
“And ditch the cardigan,” Angela added. “And get a cuter blouse – you know, something that actually fits you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You can stop insulting my whole wardrobe now,” I said testily.
Angela laughed. “June, I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighed. “But a dramatic change is too much, at least, for now. Unless you feel comfortable in something, you won’t look sexy.”
I stared at her.
“Remember the black dress?” Angela gesticulated with her hands, drawing them tightly from her bust line to her hips. “You know -- the first dress I picked out for you to wear on your date.”
“I wouldn’t ever wear something like that,” I said quickly.
Angela grabbed my hand. “That’s the point,” she said. She tossed her hair, looking smug. “Because you wouldn’t feel comfortable in it.”
I blinked. “I guess I get that,” I said.
“So, for now, we just…upgrade a few things,” Angela said. “And we branch out, until you start feeling sexy. Then you can rock stuff like this,” she added, pointing towards a trench coat.
I frowned. “I could wear that now,” I said.
Angela stared at me for a few seconds before she burst out laughing. “June, I mean like, wear it without anything on underneath.”
I blushed and gaped. “You can’t mean that,” I said hotly.
Angela smirked. “Thomas would love it,” she said, tossing her hair. “Come on,” she added. “Let’s go to sportswear. I’ll pick some cute stuff for you, okay?”
I frowned. “Okay,” I said. “I’m not feeling very optimistic, though.”
Angela laughed. “You don’t have to,” she said. “It’ll come. Don’t worry, June. I’ll make sure you look super hot.”
I rolled my eyes.
But an hour and a half later, I was surprised to see that Angela had been right. She picked out a pair of black cigarette jeans for me that hit just above the ankle and a pair of sandals with a low heel that looked deceptively sexy once I was wearing them.
“You do innocent well,” Angela said. She narrowed her eyes and surveyed me. “So, you should stick with that and make it work.”
I sighed and twisted my long black hair into a knot.
Angela held up a blouse. It wasn’t like most of my tops. It was navy cotton, with puffed short sleeves and ribbon threaded around the eyelet cuffs.
“Try this on,” Angela said.
I took it and slumped into a dressing room. I was tired – even on the best of days, I hadn’t always enjoyed shopping. It always felt like tedious work to me. And even though I knew I had a decent body, I always looked so puffy and fat in the florescent store lighting. Even expensive stores, like Neiman Marcus, didn’t seem to have very flattering fitting rooms.
I sighed as soon as the blouse was on and stomped out of the dressing room. Angela grinned when she saw me. She tugged the neckline of the blouse down and moved the short sleeves so they sat just off my shoulders.
“That looks sexy,” Angela declared. She spun me around and pointed to my reflection in a mirror. “You agree?”
I bit my lip. “I hate to say this,” I said. “But you’re right.”
Angela grinned triumphantly. “Come on,” she said. “I need a new pair of shoes, and then we can go get ice cream. You look like you’re ready to drop dead.”
I nodded. “I hate shopping,” I told her as I carried my purchases to the counter.
“This was worth it,” Angela said. She gave me a satisfied smirk. “Thomas is going to flip when he sees you in that shirt.”
I blushed. The truth was, I’d been really hoping to hear from Thomas. But two days had passed since our last day and he hadn’t called. I knew that it was the twenty-first century, that men didn’t always have to make the first move. But somehow, I also knew that Thomas was a guy who enjoyed making the first move, that he was the kind of man who would be turned off by a woman who was actively pursuing him.
On Sunday, Angela and I went to the park and I did some schoolwork while she read. The days were growing chillier. I had a feeling by the end of October, I wouldn’t want to be outside at all. As it was, I was wrapped up in a blanket cardigan and enjoying the feel of the sun warming my black hair.
I tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread in my stomach. Thomas seemed to really like me, I thought as I rolled over onto my belly and stuffed the paperwork back into my bag. Why hasn’t he called me yet?
Monday morning, I woke up almost too late. I managed to pull a dress over my head and match it with tights and boots before stumbling out of the apartment and catching a cab all the way to P.S. 151. Cabs we
re normally a forbidden luxury for me, especially on the salary of a public teacher. But I couldn’t risk another tardy, especially not when it was so early in the school year.
It started raining in the middle of the morning, which put all the kids in a bad mood. Brett was acting especially terrible. Now that I was dating his father, I knew I had to walk a very thin line between Good Teacher and Possibly Dangerous Teacher. Still, I wasn’t going to tolerate any more bad behavior. At ten-thirty, Brett slipped out of his chair and yanked Lily’s pigtails so hard that she shrieked. I dropped the chalk onto the ground and whirled around, glaring angrily at him.
“Brett March,” I said angrily. “Come with me.”
The other students were silent as I took Brett’s arm and walked him down the hall to the principal’s office. He was silent the whole time, his face clouded with anger and rage.
“I didn’t even do anything,” Brett whined. “Why are you picking on me?”
“Because you’ve been a really naughty little boy,” I said angrily. “And I’m not going to tolerate that kind of behavior in my classroom.”
The principal was in a meeting, so I left Brett with his secretary and pushed my way into the hall. My face was flushed with anger and my heart was pounding. I knew that Thomas wouldn’t be happy with Brett, and I desperately hoped that I wasn’t killing our relationship before it had even gotten off the ground by disciplining his son.
“Hey June.”
I jumped. Andy was standing right behind me, smirking.
“Oh, hi,” I said quickly. “I’ve got to run back to class, Andy, I just had to take a kid to the principal.”
Andy raised his eyebrows. “So, when can I take you out again, June?”
“I’m really busy,” I said quickly.
Andy laughed and looked hurt. “I didn’t even mention a date yet,” he said. He crossed his arms and frowned. “Why don’t you want anything to do with me?”
I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m just really dealing with a lot of stuff,” I said.
