My Stepmom's Boyfriend

by Cassandra Dee

  “Perhaps we can go somewhere else,” I say quickly. “Somewhere less expensive? There’s no need to spend a fortune on sportswear because you know that stuff gets sweaty and gross in no time.”

  Travis stares at me again as if I’ve grown a third head.

  “Sweetheart, it is not about the money. I’m not sure how many times I have to say it. You know what I do for a living. You’ve seen my home, and as a result, finances are not something that concern me. I have plenty of cash, and I want to spend it on you.”

  I gulp.

  “But you said that the problem with the other women was that they expected too much. They wanted expensive gifts, and trinkets, and baubles.”

  Travis shakes his head.

  “You know, I never thought I’d be in this position, trying to force a girl to buy things for herself. Please spend my money, Caitlin. I want to do this. Please. For me.”

  My stomach churns. Does he really mean what he’s saying? Why is he being so generous? A saleswoman swans over at that instant with a bright smile on her face.

  “Don’t make me embarrass you,” Travis mock threatens me under his breath as she approaches. The mood broken, I giggle.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want me to do, then I’ll do it,” I say. “But I’m not really sure where to start. This isn’t the kind of shop I’m used to.”

  “Perfect,” Travis says. The he turns to the saleslady and reads the name-tag on the woman’s chest. “Tessa, would you mind helping Caitlin here? It seems that she doesn’t know how to spend money.”

  The girl smiles brightly, her blonde bouffant reminding me a bit of a poodle. “Of course, I’d be more than happy!” Then she looks over at me with a friendly smile. “What are we looking for today?”

  Before I can say anything, Travis interrupts. “The full Monty. Caitlin needs a whole new wardrobe, including indoor clothes, outdoor clothes, clothes for the week, for the weekend, et cetera.”

  Tessa practically claps her hands with glee. “Well, I can certainly help with that. Come with me, Caitlin.”

  I follow the blonde woman towards the back of the store, shooting daggers over my shoulder at Travis. He merely smirks at me and goes back to his phone.

  “I like to go from back to front in Chantecaille,” sings Tessa. “Our formalwear is back here. How many outfits are you looking for?”

  I’m stumped. How many gowns could I possibly need? “I’m not sure. I guess three or four formal things and five or six casual outfits? I also need lingerie. Now that, I have to get a lot of.”

  Tessa clucks. “Lingerie happens to be my specialty. We’ll do that last, though. I always like to match lingerie to outerwear because it gives a woman such a sassy feeling. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

  In fact, I don’t, but I smile weakly.

  “Sure. I appreciate your help, by the way. As you can tell, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  “No worries!” Tessa sings. “Shopping can be overwhelming and I’m here to help. So, what kind of formalwear do you prefer? Dresses? Suits?”

  Oh shit. Are there actually formal suits?

  “I think I’ll be more comfortable in dresses,” I mumble. “But maybe one suit just in case?”

  Tessa nods knowingly. “I like how you think. How about colors? Are you a vibrant person or do you keep it subtle?”

  “I’m definitely subtle.”

  “Perfect.”

  The blonde woman flits from rack to rack, throwing various gowns over her arm. There are far more than “a few” outfits here. I’m starting to get worried we’ll be buying the entire boutique.

  “Alright, let’s see how these look on you,” Tessa sings, leading me to a private dressing room. “Let’s take a peek, shall we? Then we’ll narrow it down from these.”

  I try on a few things and feel oddly pretty, actually. Standing in front of the mirror, the saleslady surveys my figure and clucks with approval.

  “Now you do have a nice form, don’t you?” she asks. “Proportioned so well and generous too. These look beautiful on you, darling.”

  We end up with four dresses, two formal suits, and a bunch of jeans, sweaters, tops and skirts. I’m happy with the selection and even happier to be nearing the end of this shopping excursion. But oh right. There’s still the lingerie. It’s a little awkward to be looking at such lace fripperies with another woman, but Tessa picks out a dozen sets in various colors of the rainbow, and we’re set. This time when I approach Travis, I’m empty handed, and his eyebrows rise again.

  “I’m ready to check out now.”

  “Good,” he nods. “Let’s go see what you have.”

  I gesture to the heaps of clothing lying next to the cash register, and to my consternation, Travis actually gets up and begins looking through them. The lingerie sets are on top, and he holds up a particularly racy pair of panties.

  “No crotch, honey?” he asks, one eyebrow raised at me. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

  Immediately, I go cherry red. “Well, um, um …”

  He merely chuckles, although there’s a bulge forming at his crotch. Not only that, but I’m getting moist too. OMG, what was Tessa thinking? But I can’t blame her because I know I slipped that pair into the pile myself.

  The handsome billionaire merely puts down the panties with another knowing grin and takes out his credit card.

  “We’ll take it all,” he announces, and just like that, it’s done. The numerous bags are loaded into the car, and there are so many that a few packages will have to be directly delivered to the mansion. As I get into the McLaren, I cast a sideways glance at Travis.

  “Thank you for everything,” I murmur.

  He smiles, but then shoots me a look so hot that I gasp.

  “Don’t mention it. Just remember, darling, that everything has a price. These pretty clothes? They’re nothing compared to what you’ll be giving me.”

  I blush because Travis’s words leave no doubt. He wants my body, and the truth is that now, I want to share my curves with him.

  6

  Travis

  * * *

  When we get back to my house, I have my butler bring Caitlin’s bags up to her room.

  “Go ahead and put your things away and get changed. We’re going out to lunch, sweetheart. I’m starved.”

  “Sure,” she nods. “How long do I have?”

  “No more than twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  Caitlin disappears upstairs. Meanwhile, I settle on the couch in my den while I wait. Buster is at my feet gnawing at a new chew toy and he looks up before bobbing his head at me. It’s as if he approves of the new resident in our home.

  Less than twenty minutes later, the curvy girl is back downstairs wearing a short yellow sundress, and she’s stunning. The neck is in a u-shape, hinting at her luscious décolletage, and her long legs are bare and creamy. I’d love to press a kiss to them right now, but instead, I merely nod.

  “You look amazing,” I growl. Shit, my voice doesn’t sound quite normal, but she just giggles.

  “Thanks. I wasn’t sure about the sundresses at first, but Tessa insisted.”

  “It’s perfect, and that saleslady deserves a raise. Are you ready for lunch?”

  “Yes, I’m starving!” she laughs.

  We take the same car to a restaurant in downtown Medina. I have four others to choose from, but the McLaren is my personal favorite because of its gull-wing doors. Don’t tell my other vehicles.

  I pull up in front of Oleggo’s and hand my keys to the valet while heading around to Caitlin’s side. But once the door is open, she merely sits there, her cheeks rosy.

  “Travis, I can’t go in there! I’m not dressed appropriately. My sundress is way too casual.”

  I shake my head.

  “No honey, you look great. It’s not fancy during lunchtime. Look at me. I’m in jeans and a t-shirt.”

  Caitlin studies my outfit for a second before sighi
ng and swinging her legs out of the car. She’s wearing yellow high-heeled sandals and again, I’d love to press my lips to those delectable thighs. But this isn’t the time. Instead, we walk inside and immediately, the song and dance routine begins.

  “Welcome to Oleggo’s!” the maître d’ sings. “Mr. Simpson, it’s always good to see you again. Your usual table?”

  “Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Chester.”

  As we follow the man to a table, Cait elbows me and hisses, “Do you come here a lot?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, sometimes. I bring a lot of executives here for business lunches. It’s a nice enough restaurant to impress them but not so fancy that they’re intimidated.”

  My usual table is perfect, which is why I always sit here. It’s a corner booth, and has a great view of the whole restaurant, which has a Greek / Mediterranean vibe. It’s also slightly separated from the lunch crowd, which is crucial because I want to be able to hear the person I’m with over the din of the restaurant.

  “Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Simpson,” Chester bows. Meanwhile, a waiter comes over with menus.

  “Drinks, sir?” he asks. “I can recommend a particularly fine Bordeaux if you’re interested.”

  Hmm, that sounds excellent. I order a glass of wine while Caitlin gets an iced tea. Good. I like my girls innocent, although Caitlin is certainly allowed to have a sip or two of my Bordeaux.

  “What do you usually eat here?” Caitlin asks after the waiter leaves to get our drinks. “I have no idea what to order because honestly, I’m not even sure how to pronounce some of these entrees.”

  I merely chuckle.

  “I’d go with a gyro.”

  “Oh, is that how you say it? With a y-sound and not a g-sound?” Her question is so innocent and unassuming that I chuckle again.

  “Do you trust me to order for you, sweetheart?”

  Caitlin nods. “Yes, please. I don’t like onions, so that’s my only no-no.”

  “Perfect.”

  When the waiter returns, I order Caitlin a chicken gyro without onions, while I go with a traditional lamb gyro. Pita bread and a Greek salad to share complete the meal. But once we’re alone again, I lean forward.

  “So, tell me more about yourself,” is my low invitation. She flushes a bit, and I watch as the red spreads down her chest and into her décolletage. I’d love to squeeze those big breasts right now, but now is not the time.

  “What do you want to know?” she asks in a low voice.

  I shrug. “You told me a bit about your stepmother last night. Is your father around?”

  Caitlin’s face drops. “No. Brian died when I was child. Car accident.”

  I put my hand over hers on the table. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry to hear that. So it’s just been you and your stepmom all this time?”

  She nods.

  “Yes, and it’s been really hard, to put it mildly. Fiona never liked me, and without my dad around, things went from bad to worse.”

  I nod. This stepmom person is clearly a piece of shit, taking advantage of an orphan like that. How can anyone be so cruel, especially to a girl like this? It’s clear the woman in front of me would never hurt a fly. Caitlin is gentle and kind, and would give the clothes off her back to another human being in need. I couldn’t even get her to spend my money without some serious prodding!

  “What does Fiona do for a living?” I ask mildly.

  Caitlin takes a deep breath.

  “She’s a bank teller. But according to her, she’d tell you she’s a professional fashion designer. It’s complicated. She tried to launch a design company after my dad died using his life insurance money, but she’s had to take out a million loans to keep it afloat. The only way it even exists today is because she’s subsidizing it with her salary from the bank.”

  “Wow.”

  Cait shakes her head.

  “I know, right? Even worse, she and I should get along because we have a lot of the same interests. I’m also interested in fashion design, so that should be something to bond over, but instead, it just makes her … I don’t know, jealous or something.”

  I sit back, puzzled.

  “You like fashion design? Don’t take this the wrong way, but that surprises me because you seemed so nervous at the boutique today.”

  Caitlin smiles shyly. “I know, and it’s because I was. I’m used to having to recycle or upcycle clothes. I know how to make myself look good with scraps of fabric, and maybe a stray button or two. But buying expensive designer duds? That’s a whole different story.”

  That makes sense to me. The two worlds are vastly different.

  “But can’t your stepmother partner with you? You must be talented, sweetheart. Maybe you could put your heads together and come up with something that works for both of you.”

  Caitlin sighs. “No, because Fiona’s always been jealous of my talent when it comes to design. Deep inside, she knows she can’t conceptualize, much less draw, sew or cut. So she takes it out on me instead. I think subconsciously, she knows that she has no talent, and uses me as a punching bag for her frustrations.”

  I snort with disbelief. “That’s a fucking shame. She should be encouraging you, not putting you down.”

  Cait smiles sadly.

  “I know, right? But remember, this is my evil stepmother we’re talking about. Fiona doesn’t encourage anyone. I had a sewing machine that my dad bought for me when I was a little girl, but after Dad died, the sewing machine started breaking mysteriously all the time. I’m pretty sure Fiona was trying to sabotage me.”

  I frown. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Fiona hated me and she wasn’t shy about letting me know it. Finally, I gave up and put the sewing machine in the closet, relying instead on the ones they had at school. But of course, that came to a stop after graduation because Medina High couldn’t exactly let someone who wasn’t a student use their equipment. Now, I just draw.”

  I shake my head. This is such a fucking travesty and this beautiful girl doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt.

  “You’ll have to show me your drawings sometime, honey. I’m sure they’re masterpieces.”

  Caitlin giggles.

  “Hardly, but I do try.”

  We’re silent for a moment, but then I speak with a low intensity to my words.

  “You know, I know what it’s like to be unwanted too.”

  She cocks her head curiously at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  I think for a moment before speaking because I don’t tell a lot of people about my home life as a kid. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something I advertise either. It makes for great press, and magazines love to harp on the “rags to riches” aspect, but at the same time, I don’t love talking about it because what’s done is done.

  “I grew up in a group home,” I finally acknowledge.

  She cocks her head at me.

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “Yup. My parents were addicts and they couldn’t take care of me, so I bounced from foster home to foster home until finally landing at the group home when I was a freshman in high school.”

  “Oh my gosh,” breathes Caitlin. “I’m so sorry.” I nod again.

  “It was bad, and a teacher at school saved me. I started taking auto shop as a freshman, and Mr. Plano thought I had real talent. He got me a job at an auto body shop, just something to do on weekends and after school. To be honest, I needed the money and was grateful. I worked there for four years until I started Simpson Auto Parts at nineteen.”

  Caitlin blinks. “Wow, Travis. That’s incredible. You have a real rags to riches story.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Now, Simpson is a massive distributor of car parts all over the US. I even sponsor a NASCAR team, if you can believe it.”

  Caitlin nods. “Of course I believe it.”

  I sigh. “It would be easy to feel sorry for myself, but in some ways, I developed grit because of my di
fficult upbringing. I think the same can be said about you.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “When I asked you about hobbies, you didn’t mention fashion design, sweetheart. You said something about jogging and keeping in shape?”

  Caitlin blushes. “Well, jogging takes time! It’s exercise and a great way to stay healthy. Besides, I’m kind of embarrassed. I’ve obviously never done anything with my designs. I wore some of the clothes I made in high school and sometimes my friend Cammie would wear them too, but that’s it.”

  “Well, would you like to pursue it?”

  She cocks her head at me again.

  “How so?”

  I chuckle.

  “Sweetheart, I have seven spare bedrooms. We can turn one into a sewing room for you, if you like.” She blushes but her eyes sparkle.

  “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I think you should pursue fashion design if it’s truly something you’re passionate about.”

  She sits back in her chair, her look pensive.

  “I don’t know, Travis. Fashion design is a pipe dream for me. I appreciate your support, but I have no formal training, and who would buy the clothes? I was giving my outfits to Cammie for free.”

  I merely take her hand in my own.

  “That doesn’t mean you should give up.”

  Caitlin considers this for a second. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can I think more about it?”

  I give her hand a squeeze. “Of course, honey, but I’m going to buy you a sewing machine regardless. I’m at work during the day, so you’ll have time to putter away to your heart’s content while I’m gone.”

  “Thank you, Travis.”

  At that moment, the waiter returns with our gyros and Caitlin looks at the meat with excitement before taking a huge bite. She gasps as the flavors hit her tongue.

  “Oh my goodness, this is incredible!”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say with a grin.

  She takes another big bite, moaning melodically as she swallows. That’s another thing I like about Caitlin. She’s not shy about food, unlike all those twig-thin women who order only a salad and don’t even eat it. I hate it when women pick at their meals. It makes me uncomfortable, and then I feel like I have to hold back from eating as well.