by Kate Stewart
“I was just bringing her sweater,” Dante mumbles, holding it out to Harper.
“Thank you,” she takes it as her eyes ping pong between Clarissa and me. “I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed he was your daddy.” She’s mortified.
“It’s okay,” I assure her.
“It’s fine,” Clarissa says softly. “Really, it’s okay.”
Harper mouths one last apology to Clarissa before getting into her SUV and driving away with a wave.
“She’s gonna teachme to dance to “Old Town Road,” and all the Fortnite dances too,” Dante proclaims proudly.
Clarissa gapes down at him “Is that why you love that song so much? Fortnite?”
Dante opens his mouth, and Clarissa gives him the stink eye. “Say duh one more time. One more time.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he huffs.
“Uh huh. Go finish your homework.”
“Fine. I try to be nice and bring her sweater, and I’m in trouble.”
“Don’t you backtalk me!”
“I’m not!”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me!” Clarissa says, doing the same.
“Just making sure you can hear me with your old ears!”
“That’s it,” Clarissa snaps. “No video games tonight.”
“Fine!” Dante shouts. “You’re old. You’re old. You’re old! You’re an old, old, Mommy!”
“That’s enough,” I snap at Dante, who looks over to me in shock. “Apologize to your mother. Get inside and finish your homework with no backtalk, or you’ll deal with me. Got it?”
Dante’s eyes are wide as saucers having never heard that tone from me. Clarissa allows it, watching Dante expectantly. Dante’s face falls as he climbs up the steps. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Don’t you dare slam that door,” I bark just as he gets ready to make his dramatic exit. Clarissa raises surprised eyes to mine, her mouth parting as I keep mine trained on Dante. “Put your snack plate in the sink. And your homework better be done in thirty minutes.”
“Okay,” Dante mumbles.
“Nope,” I correct.
“Yes, sir.”
“Better. Now go.”
Clarissa joins me at the foot of the steps as Dante heads to the kitchen. “Wow. Well done, neighbor.”
“That’s Dad,” I say, giving her a pointed look. “Not neighbor. Dad.”
“I know, but—”
“The longer we don’t tell him, the more the omission becomes a lie. And from what I’ve gathered, you’re not a fan of liars.”
“I know, Troy, I do.”
“Do you? Because you seem to be holding onto the one I told you like a lifeline, and that hasn’t done any one of us any good. I’m his father, he needs to know.”
“Just give it a little more time. Please. Just be patient, that’s all I’m asking. It’s only been a few months.”
“Three. Three months, and just so you know, you’re making liars out of us both,” I say before heading to my own front door.
Troy
Sitting on the couch, I check my phone for any text from Clarissa. Dante is having his first sleepover, and it’s not sitting well with me. I could sense his nervousness this morning when we talked about it over breakfast. He’s trying to be strong for his mother. He kept glancing her way, feigning excitement. I used to play strong for my own mother, so it was easy to see the truth. And the truth is he’s terrified. I would give anything to be a fly on the wall at that sleepover. Trying to push it out of my mind, I glance up as Theo appears in the entryway pulling on a sports coat. We’ve barely spoken to each other since he blew up, despite my apologies.
“Where are you going all dressed up?”
“Rehearsal dinner.”
I toss my football up in the air as he scours his appearance.
“Who’s getting married?”
“A friend of a friend. What’s it to you?”
I groan in frustration. “Jesus. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“You don’t,” he says, brushing his lapel, “I’m over it.”
“You serious?” He seems just as surprised as I am that the words left his mouth.
“I mean, I don’t want to hug it out with you, but yeah, I’m completely over her. I’ve got something much better going on.”
“That so?”
“It’s so. Just do me a favor and start vetting before you bring anyone else here. Not that I have any more exes. But let me make one thing clear, I don’t want yours, and I don’t want you ever taking a second look at mine.”
“Got it. I’m not going to…see her again.” I don’t bother telling him I’m turning over a new leaf where the ladies are concerned. There’s no point. Nobody believes shit when it comes to me. Except for the woman I can’t seem to stop daydreaming about, and even then, the benefit of the doubt is hard-earned. I’m still pissed at her for holding out on Dante, but I can’t fault her for being cautious.
Time and patience. Relieved I won’t have to walk on eggshells anymore, I stand and pull out my wallet to hand Theo some past due rent.
“For what I owe you.”
He takes the money as I grab my duffle.
“Where are you going?”
“A few guys are headed to Shreveport this weekend. I’m going to check it out. Lance left a note on the fridge that he’s out until Tuesday, so the house is all yours.”
“Nice.”
Kevin, my old roommate, and two others from my team pull up and honk just as I reach the door. “Later.”
“Later, man.”
I look back at him as he straightens himself one last time. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
I jog down to the SUV, dropping my duffle. I’ve convinced myself between the responsibilities of ball, work, school, being a parent, and Clarissa’s constant rejection, I deserve a few days off to just…be. It’s my senior year, and I need to take advantage of it before it’s over. But nothing about leaving is sitting right with me. I glance back at Clarissa’s house, anxious to see if she’s heard from Dante.
“Give me two minutes.”
Kevin scrolls through his phone from the front seat. “Two.”
I knock and get no answer. Cracking open the door, I knock soundly again, calling her name and get no response. Walking through the living room, I see the TV muted and an empty wine glass. Apparently, Mommy has been relaxing. Chuckling, I peek my head into the bedroom to see Clarissa on her back, in nothing but a cami and skimpy purple panties, her Mac slanted on her lap. She looks so fucking sexy. I have to fight the urge to wake her up with my head between her legs. I’d lick her over the panties first. That’s how I’d start it, leading with my tongue. It’s when I see the Womanizer Parker gave her inches away, that I realize she’s passed out post-orgasm.
Instantly I’m hard.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as her perfect chest rises and falls, her mouth slightly parted. “Fuck you, life,” I mumble as I situate her on the bed. Her screen lights up from the movement, and I glance at it curiously to see the contents of her spank bank. I damn near wake her up with my laugh when I see what’s written on the screen.
It’s a product review of her sex toy.
#goodconsumer90
I’m deducting a star for the name alone because nothing so pleasurable should come with such baggage. And that’s what being with a womanizer entails, baggage. So, what if this model is pretty to look at, has the build of a god and can pleasure you for hours on end? There are less glossy, lower-priced models just as capable of getting the job done without leaving you feeling like a used sack of hormones. I’m currently with the lower-priced, less risky model. And why shouldn’t I be? The womanizer must be kept in check constantly, so that future models have a clear path on how to treat a woman. This is about a pleasurable epiphany, and letting go, right? A safe and effective way of reaching one’s peak without any of the guilt or expectations. But how can one successfully do this if they’re continua
lly being reminded that what brings them so much pleasure is attached to a name that is SO demeaning? A woman’s orgasm is 99% mental. 99%! So, what self-respecting woman wants to succumb to such demoralizing name-suck? In the end, the womanizer will fail as womanizers inevitably do, and it’s just going to be another thing to store away—>baggage. Note to manufacturer- If you’re going to make a woman’s toy capable of inducing such mind-bending results, name it something else.
I can’t help but read the comments beneath.
I get it. I do. I’m with you, good consumer. If you can find happiness elsewhere, why risk it?
Girl, you’ve got it bad. You need to rip the band-aid and get it over with. Womanizer or not, you’re in deep. Do yourself a favor and see it through.
She’s just trying to protect herself and her future model. Who can blame her? This model sounds like trouble.
You ain’t getting any younger. Safe = sorry in my book. Take a chance.
You’re right, Womanizer is a messed-up name. I’ll be returning mine until the name is changed.
You can’t return a sex toy lickitysplito4. Gross.
This is pathetic. You all are pathetic. You all need to get lives.
Says the troll who just got on this thread and read the whole thing to make a judgmental comment.
I was looking for honest reviews.
Yeah, for a sex toy because you’re in the same “pathetic” boat.
My purchase is for a gag gift.
Sure, because spending over $200 on a gag gift makes perfect sense. At least we’re honest.
This reviewer needs to be honest with herself. She’s falling for the womanizer.
Staring down at her, I wrestle with the fact that she’s wary of me hurting her, and I’m not ignorant as to why, she’d explained it to me the day we had it out on the lawn. Her father was a player, and she sees me in his light. But my hesitancy to commit to anyone is no longer due to my insane schedule or my son.
The truth becomes crystal-clear as I drink her in. She’s the only woman I want.
And if I want any chance with her, I have a lot more to prove.
Clarissa does nothing half-assed, that includes the handling of her heart. What I do know is the less pricey model is fucking going down. I’m going to make damn sure of it. Fingers itching to touch her, I try to reel in what I’m feeling. No matter what steps I take from here on out, if I want her, I have to put both of them first.
Clarissa’s phone buzzes next to her on the bed, and I see it’s Regina Leighton, the mother of the boy hosting Dante’s sleepover. Ignoring the spectacle Kevin’s making outside with the horn, I swipe to answer, making a quick exit out of Clarissa’s bedroom softly shutting her door.
“Hello?”
“Troy?” Dante sniffs. “Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s asleep.”
“C-c-can you wake her up? I need her to come and get me. I don’t w-want to stay here anymore.”
Kevin honks again, and I quickly walk to the front door giving him the finger.
“Hurry the fuck up, man!” He shouts as the rest of the car raises hell.
I turn my back, stepping into the house.
“I’m coming to get you.”
“What?”
“Can you have them text Mommy the address?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Please hurry.”
“I’m coming, bud. Don’t worry.” Once I’m armed with the address, I do a quick check around the house before locking Clarissa’s door, knowing Dante has a key in his backpack for emergencies. Kevin meets me as I bound down the porch.
“I’m not going. Take off. I might catch up later.”
His demeanor shifts. “What the hell, man? We were counting on you to help pay for the hotel.”
Annoyed, I pull some twenties from my wallet and hand them to him. “There, that’s enough for one night.”
“You’re hard up for her, aren’t you?”
“Kevin, I don’t have time for this shit.” I pull out my keys and start toward my truck when he blocks me. “I have to go pick up Dante.”
“This, this, is why you’re bailing on everything? You’ve fallen for her?”
“I’ll explain later, okay?” I move around him, and he blocks me again.
“No, not okay, we’ve been planning this trip for a hot minute. What the fuck is going on?”
Kevin, though clueless most of the time, has been my wingman for four years. I get why he’s pissed, but Dante’s cries have my heart seizing.
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
“Fuck that,” he slaps my shoulder, and in a flash, we’re toe to toe.
“It’s not that fucking serious,” I say, pushing at his chest. “But it’s about to be.”
“Just tell me.”
“He’s mine!”
“What?”
“Dante is my son.”
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Dream on.”
“He’s mine,” I repeat as Kevin swallows, his expression turning to disbelief.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story. But Dante needs me like right now.”
“Y-yeah,” he says, stepping out of my way. “Yeah, you gotta go.”
“Don’t tell a fucking soul, Kevin. No one.”
“You need me to stay back and help?” And that’s Kevin, that’s the kind of friend he is.
“Nope. Go. Have fun. Just tell no one, I mean it.”
“Yeah. No problem. But why?”
“Kevin!”
“Got it, hold up.” He jogs over to the SUV and grabs my duffle, handing it to me, along with the cash I had just given him. “Spend it on him.”
“Thanks, man. You’re a good friend.”
“Hit me up and let me know it’s all good.”
“Will do.”
I manage to make it to the address in minutes because it’s only a neighborhood over. Pulling up, I see Dante on the front porch, his chest bouncing with his cries. My heart cracks at the sight of him dressed in the jeans and Grand hoodie I bought him. I’d even gelled his hair like mine because he’d asked me to. I should have spoken up this morning and told Clarissa my fears, but I wanted, more than anything, for him to have a good time tonight, for those fears to be unfounded and for him to find some friends. The mother approaches me, confused as Dante leaps to my side.
“Where’s Clarissa?”
“She got tied up. I’m the neighbor.”
She looks me up and down. “Lucky Clarissa.”
I don’t bother acknowledging her. “What happened?” Dante clings to my leg as she stares over at me in a way that has my stomach turning.
“Not sure, they were playing upstairs, and Dante came down not long after asking to call his mother.”
“Do you know what was said?”
A little boy Dante’s age and much bigger is watching behind the cracked front door with a smirk on his face.
“What did you say to him?” I ask the boy.
“Now, now, let’s not go accusing anyone of any wrongdoing. Sometimes kids get scared at these things, being away from home and all.”
I pull Dante closer to me. “You’re raising a bully. This isn’t the first time that kid has messed with Dante. Do yourself a favor and nip that crap in the bud before he permanently screws some kid up. But I can guarantee you, it won’t be this one.”
“You know, Chris wasn’t even going to invite Dante. I’m the one who insisted on the invite.”
“Yeah, well, you can see how well that worked out.”
“You can go now,” she says, dismissing me in a huff.
“Happy to. This is your future problem, not mine, mark my words, you’re going to wish you had paid more attention.” I lift Dante into my arms. His chest pumps with his cries as I run a soothing hand down his back. “It’s okay, bud. It’s okay.” He hugs me tightly to him, his tears soaking my face, as I bend down and grab his backpack. I make sure to narr
ow my eyes at the little shit still staring at us before making my way back to my truck.
It’s the same kid who called him a weirdo on Halloween, and a kid with no conscience is the most dangerous thing on earth.
Safely inside the cab, I hold Dante to me until I feel his breathing even out. Once I’ve got him strapped in, I finally take a breath, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.
“What happened?”
“I was trying to show them what Harper taught me.”
I physically flinch feeling Clarissa’s and my efforts backfire in a big fucking way.
“You tried to teach them how to dance?”
Dante nods.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck!
“You said it was cool.”
“I did, bud, for us. Most little boys don’t go around teaching other boys how to dance.”
“I didn’t know how to play what they were playing.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m not like them. They make fun of my videos.” His breath hitches from his crying stint, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so painful in my life. Seeing the sign, I pull into Sonic and park at the drive-in before pulling Dante out of his seat to join me up front. He looks so small, so upset, that I have to look away to keep him from seeing the emotion in my face. They hurt my kid, and I want to go back and level that fucking house.
“Does Mommy tell you to ignore them when they call you names?”
“Yes.”
I can feel the cracks starting to separate me in half, terrified of his next answer. “Do they hit you?”
“No. They wouldn’t let me play after I tried to show them how to dance.”
“It’s okay. You know that, right?” I ruffle his hair. “You were just being nice.”
Dante nods. “Why are we at Sonic?”
“Slushy, then home.”
“Okay.” He’s tired, and I can tell, but I refuse to let this wait any longer.
Once we’ve ordered I turn to him. “Do you like adults more than kids? Is this why you didn’t invite anyone from class to your birthday party?
