by Katie Ashley
William chuckled. “Or Ansel comes back to harass us.”
“I’m not sure which one would be worse,” I mused as I walked over to the dryer. When I opened the door, I wrinkled my nose. Even though I’d put in about fifty dryer sheets, our clothes still reeked to high heaven.
When I handed his jeans to William, his expression soured. “How in the hell can I put these on when they stink like horse shit?”
I laughed. “How else do you plan on getting back to the house for your other pants?”
“A towel? I’ll even wear a horse blanket if I have to.”
“Yes. Please wear a towel and ruin what’s left of my reputation with my father.”
“Surely he would understand about not wanting to put on shitty clothes.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you can ask him.”
With a grunt of frustration, William grudgingly put his jeans back on. “I might be putting on the pants, but I’m not doing the shirt.”
“Fine. I’ll grab one from Ansel’s closet when we get back to the house.”
After I threw on my shitty smelling clothes, we headed back to the house. When we tried sneaking in the back door and up the staircase in the kitchen, our plans were thwarted by Daddy and Ansel sitting at the kitchen table. The moment we entered the room, their expressions soured. “Damn, you two reek. Were you guys screwing in the horse shit?”
“Ansel!” I exclaimed.
“I fell off of Sampson and took Sophie with me into a giant mud puddle,” William explained.
“Actually, he fell off, and when I laughed hysterically at him, he pulled me into the mud with him.”
William scowled at me. I guess he didn’t want to come off as an asshole in front of my dad. Of course, Daddy found the story hysterical, and he laughed until he got one of his coughing episodes that left him gasping and wheezing for breath.
While Ansel and I were used to it, William began to pace around and wring his hands, desperate to do something to aid my father. “It’s okay. He’ll be fine. Just give him a few minutes,” I replied in a low voice.
Although he nodded, I could tell William was still unnerved that he couldn’t help.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Please don’t apologize. I was just worried and wanted to help.”
“When you think of muscular dystrophy you think of the atrophy of the muscles of the legs and arms. What you forget or don’t think about is the diaphragm is a muscle. Our lungs don’t compress on their own. Once the diaphragm is weakened, like in my case, you face all kinds of fun stuff like coughing fits, being extra susceptible to pneumonia and lung infections, and worst of all, suffocating in your own carbon dioxide because your diaphragm can’t push it out of your lungs.”
William shook his head. “That’s a hell of a raw deal, sir.”
Daddy smiled. “Yeah. It is. But enough with the depressing shit. While you two go get changed and cleaned up, Ansel’s going to help me eat. But then I want you to stay and have dinner.”
Cutting his eyes over to mine, William looked to see how I felt. After I nodded, he said, “That sounds wonderful. I appreciate the invitation.”
“Great.” Daddy turned his attention to me. “Sophie, get William a clean shirt from my closet or Ansel’s.”
“I’d already planned on it.”
Ansel started cutting up the lasagna Susie had made. “Never thought I’d be sharing clothes with my principal.”
We all laughed at his remark. William and I started up the back staircase. When we got to the top, I could tell there was something William wanted to ask, but he was hesitating. “What is it?”
“Your dad said Ansel was going to help him eat. Can he not feed himself anymore?”
“As you noticed before, his arms don’t move very well. It’s like they’re almost fused at the elbow. In a few months, he’ll almost be like a quadriplegic. But for now, he can feed himself, but he needs help cutting food. That’s not even things like steak. He wouldn’t have the strength to cut the noodles of the lasagna that we’re having tonight.”
“That has to be agony for a man who was once as active as he was.”
“It is. But he does his best to hide the pain or depression he has from us.
William gave me a sad smile. “Now I see where you get your amazing strength from.”
A totally uncharacteristic flush filled my cheeks at his words. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.”
“All I know is he has every reason in the world to be bitter and angry, but instead, he’s always smiling and happy. But he’s always been that way, so I suppose he wasn’t going to let the MD win.”
“That shows great courage and conviction of character.”
I led William into Ansel’s room, which surprisingly didn’t look like your stereotypical teenage guy’s room. “Who would have thought Ansel was a neat freak?” William remarked as I handed him a plain white button-down shirt.
“He’s totally OCD. He catches so much hell from his friends about it.”
William laughed. “I can imagine.”
“You can freshen up in his bathroom.”
“Thank you.”
“My room is just across the hall. You can either go on back downstairs or wait for me.”
“Okay.”
I leaned in and gave him a kiss before hurrying out of the room. After taking a quick PTA bath, or Pussy, Tits, and Ass, I hopped into a pair of yoga pants and threw on a Milton High T-shirt. When I opened my bathroom door, William wasn’t in my room. He wasn’t out in the hallway or Ansel’s room either.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered. When I had suggested that he go on downstairs without me, I hadn’t stopped to think about how Daddy would probably end up telling William some mortifying stories from my childhood. Hell, he might even have Ansel break out the photo albums.
I pounded down the stairs to find them sitting around the table, eating lasagna and drinking wine. They all looked curiously up at me considering the commotion I’d just made. “Sorry,” I muttered, as I went over to the table.
“Afraid I was spilling some of your secrets?” Daddy asked with a grin.
“That hadn’t even crossed my mind,” I lied.
“Sure it didn’t,” Ansel mused.
Daddy laughed. “You’ll be glad to know that the conversation was all focused on me and this horrible disease of mine.”
“Nice. Couldn’t you have found a less depressing dinner conversation?” I asked.
William poured me a glass of wine. “It’s my fault. I was interested in knowing about the disease. My only real frame of reference comes from all the Labor Day telethons with Jerry Lewis.”
“Yeah, Daddy is hardly a ‘Jerry’s Kid’.”
“Those poor kids.” After bowing his head, Daddy took a large sip of wine through a straw. Once he swallowed, he said, “If there is something to be grateful for, it is that I got to live a full and active life. I didn’t even have any symptoms until I was in my late twenties. Then my hands started cramping up when I was working with the rope. After I took a few tumbles, I went to see a neurologist.”
“And that’s when you were diagnosed.”
“Yep. Since I already had Sophie and Ansel, I was worried to death that I might’ve passed something on to them. But thank the good Lord that genetic testing proved that they didn’t have the disease and aren’t carriers of the gene.” He smiled good-naturedly. “It’s just me. I get to be the lucky one who needs help wiping his ass.”
William spewed out the wine he had just sipped. “Excuse me?”
Daddy laughed. “Have you ever read Tuesdays with Morrie?”
“No, sir. I don’t believe I have.”
“An amazing book. I read my copy until it became so tattered it was falling apart. Then when I couldn’t hold a book up anymore, I got the audio version. You see, Morrie has ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease, and with the help of one of his former students, he’s chronicling his last days of
the final progression of the disease. While MD and ALS are different, they have a lot of similarities.” Daddy smiled. “But the point to my ramble was that Morrie talks about dreading the day when it comes to someone else wiping his ass. But when the time came, he tried to embrace it because it meant he got to be a baby again.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at it.”
“Yes, it is.” Daddy winked at William. “Two weeks ago, I tried to remember that quote when it came time for someone else to wipe my ass.”
While I shook my head in horror, William only laughed. “And did you feel like Morrie?”
“No, sadly I didn’t. Actually, I hated the fact that my cousin’s wife is seeing my ass now when it’s old and wrinkly. I wished she’d been able to see it when I was in my prime.”
“Honestly, Daddy,” I said.
“For your information, I had a pretty nice ass back in the day.”
“Thank you. If you need me, I’ll be dying of mortification under the table.”
Ansel snorted. “Why are you acting lady-like all the sudden? It’s not like this isn’t our usual dinner conversations.”
“Yes, but the two of you seem to forget that my boss is sitting across from me. That changes things slightly.”
“Just your boss?” Daddy questioned with an impish grin.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“Actually, I’m not just her boss.” William smiled at me. “We’ve decided to try for more.”
“So you’re like officially her boyfriend or something?” Ansel asked.
“Yes. I am.”
With a groan, I put my head in my hands. “What happened to secrecy?”
“I think our secret is safe with your father and brother.”
Peeking through my fingers, I replied, “Don’t be so sure.”
“Honestly, Sophie, who am I going to tell? I only leave the house for doctor’s appointments,” Daddy said.
My hands dropped from my head to where I could pin Ansel with a hard stare. “I’m more worried about him.”
Ansel’s brow shot up. “Why me?”
“Because you tend to run your mouth. All it would take would be someone mentioning my name or William’s, and you’d be giving them all the juicy details.”
“I would not,” Ansel argued.
“Maybe we should make him take a blood oath?” William teasingly suggested.
Ansel rolled his eyes. “I swear I won’t say anything, Soph. I know you need the job…that we need you to have the job.”
The sincerity in his voice caused all my doubt to evaporate.
Looking at William, Ansel said, “Besides, I like Dr. F. He’s totally not a douchebag like the other administrators.”
“Thanks for the high praise,” William mused with a smile.
“I mean, Dr. Newsome would have totally suspended me even with my reasons.”
Daddy cleared his throat. “What’s this about a suspension?”
Ansel’s face paled considerably. “Um, yeah, about that…”
Deciding to save my poor baby brother, I said, “Ansel got in a fight, but it was because he was defending my honor. William was nice enough to convert his sentence to in-school suspension, rather than out. I had planned to talk to you about it with him when he got in, but then I forgot all about because of our guest.”
Shaking his head, Daddy said, “Ansel, how many times have we talked about fighting with your head and not your fists? Do you know how many times I could have had bloody knuckles when I was in the rodeo circuit?”
Ansel stared down at his plate. “Yeah, Dad. I know. It won’t happen again. I swear.”
“It better not. If you’re going to have any chance at an education, you have to get a scholarship. The competition is ruthless, and they look at everything but making offers.”
“I said it won’t happen again, okay?” Ansel snapped.
Instead of berating my brother for his smart ass tone, my father’s expression softened. “I know that things are harder for you, son,—it isn’t fair, and it isn’t right. But that’s the way it is. If I could take it all away, I would in an instant.” He turned to smile at me. “Just like I would for you.”
I reached over to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, Daddy. Ansel and I aren’t going to end up in rehab because we had to shoulder a little more responsibility than others.”
“Everybody has their own shit they gotta deal with,” Ansel chimed in.
“It’s his or her own shit, not their,” I corrected.
“Huh?”
“The word ‘everyone’ is singular, so you can’t use a collective pronoun like their.”
Ansel rolled his eyes. “Would you lighten up on being a grammar Nazi? It’s not like I don’t get this shit enough in school.”
“You’re hopeless,” I muttered.
Daddy and William chuckled at our banter. When I started to clear the plates, William rose up to help me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, with a smile.
“William, why don’t you stay a little while longer? I’m pretty sure there’s some leftover pie in the fridge.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s three or four,” Ansel replied.
“That’s because the old church ladies can’t remember who is supposed to bring a pie that week,” I mused.
“Lots of pies, huh?” William asked.
“Oh yes. I’m pretty sure there’s lemon, pecan, and chocolate in there.”
“That sounds delicious.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “Are you okay with me staying?”
Smiling, I tossed the dishtowel at him. “Of course I am. Just as long as you’re okay with doing the dishes.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mi—um, Sophie.”
“I’ll be sure to reward you later.”
“And I’ll be looking forward to it.
The blistering summer days of August melted into September. Then crisp and cooler air ushered in October. Considering how busy I was, the months went by in a frenzied blur. Teaching consumed my days while my nights were filled with taking care of Daddy. Friday nights were devoted to watching Ansel shine on the gridiron.
And somehow between all of that, I still had time to participate in my secret relationship with William. Because my father and William got along so well, William spent most of his weeknights at our house. He was careful not to show up until Susie had left. Since Susie was a bit of a gossip, I didn’t want her accidentally spilling the beans at her weekly beauty shop appointment.
During the day and night on Saturdays was our private time. We would go to Atlanta and spend time at William’s grandparents’ penthouse. It was in mid-September when William introduced me to them. He had been right about me liking them. They were so down to earth. Their love for William was very evident by the way they beamed with pride whenever he was in the room. I was so thankful when William told me that they really liked me. Of course, he slightly freaked me out when he told me they’d asked when we were getting married.
Things were running pretty smooth in the bedroom. We didn’t have time to incorporate a lot of play during the week. We were just like average couples trying to catch a quickie here and there. It was our weekends where we’d break out the props. So far, William and I were both adjusting to the BDSM aspects. It wasn’t perfect, but we were making it our own.
Two days ago, William had turned thirty-three. When I had asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he had been very specific. “I want to go to 1740’s Halloween party and play with you.”
I widened my eyes in surprise. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Shaking my head, I countered. “William, if we were found out, we could get in serious trouble, maybe even lose our jobs.”
“I’ve been a member there for three years, and not a single soul in my professional or personal life knows. You should know from working there how much they pride themselves on keeping their clients’ personal information priva
te. Besides, the Halloween party is always a masquerade, so no one will see our faces.”
Deep down, I knew William was right. The security team was top notch, and I couldn’t remember a single instance while I was working there when there was a security breach. “Okay, fine. We’ll go to the Halloween party for your birthday.”
He kissed me. “Thank you. That makes me very happy.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
William wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me against him. “So you’ll play with me as Mistress Juliette?”
I shook my head. “I’ll play with you, but as myself. I don’t dig the whole false persona thing.”
“Hmm, I guess that means you wouldn’t ever be interested in roleplaying.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Tilting my head, I tried putting into words how I felt. “Mistress Juliette was a persona I took on for work. It was who I pretended to be to get a job done. Since that day at Kennesaw Mountain, I’ve always been Sophie with you.”
“I see what you mean.” He bent down and kissed me. “Now that we know we’re going, the question is what are we going to wear for costumes? Do you want to do the honors and pick them out?”
I snickered. “You seriously want to do a couples costume type thing?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Fine. I can pick us out something. You may regret letting me do it though.”
With a grin, William said, “I trust you.”
In the five years I’d worked at 1740, I’d always gone to the Halloween parties. While they were costume themed, they weren’t your average costumes. They were fetish interpretations of characters and costumes. Although I would have loved to have gone as a couple from one of the great pieces of literature, it was harder to make those into fetish pieces.
I finally decided on Dominatrix Dorothy for me. I had a blue vinyl skirt and bustier. I had managed to borrow a pair of blood-red leather boots to be my ruby slippers. For William, I had teasingly decided to do a spin on the whole pet play in BDSM by making him my Toto.
I poked my head out of the bathroom door to see how he was coming along getting dressed. I snorted at the sight of him lounging on the bed, remote control in one hand, longneck in the other while wearing furry pants and a studded dog collar. Once we got to the club, he would be donning a furry eye mask and putting on a headband with dog ears.
