I’m babysitting, again. Poppy and Luna have just fallen asleep, and Evelyn has to work late. Those are always the best nights, when Evelyn works late. The woman is so blind, so pathetically obtuse, I pity her.
“Thank you again for staying so late.” Oliver removes his suit jacket, and hangs it from the hook on the closet door. “You’re always so good with the girls. They’re always saying how much fun they have with you.”
That’s no surprise. Children are so easy to manipulate. “I think we both know I’m not just here for the girls.”
Oliver chuckles. “I suppose you’re right.” He’s remarkably close to me, breathing on the side of my neck. “Happy belated birthday, by the way. I’ve got a gift for you out in my car.”
Outside the bedroom window, a tree sways in the wind. There might be a thunderstorm tonight. “I can’t wait to see it,” I say, and grab him by the cock. When I squeeze, he takes hold of my ass. It’s the first thing he touches, always, and I don’t blame him. I whisper. “We’d better be quick. Your wife will be home soon.”
His hands slide up my thighs. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. You’re so beautiful, my God.” I knew that already. It’s alright to hear, though. I’m very good at getting men to tell me what I want to hear.
“Yeah?” Often, Oliver isn’t too forward. I don’t mind being in charge. “If I’m so beautiful, then take my clothes off.” He’s begun to, a hand on the collar of my low-rise shirt, it slides down underneath the fabric.
This morning, I contacted a plastic surgeon here in the city. My nose is too big, and my boobs are too small. My mother would never allow this, but anyway, I’m an adult now. What my mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Oliver has calloused hands from work. They’re hot, and dry, too eagerly fondling my boobs to realize this. I can be very persuasive, when I want to be. I like people to be attracted to me. Gruffly, he nibbles on my neck. The idea, when attracting men, is to play hard to get. Coming across as excited just makes a girl seem desperate. I’m the one who’s supposed to make people desperate. Be a little aloof, a little disinterested, and they’ll come crawling. It works every time. In another month, I’ll be over the poor man, and onto another. But I don’t date. I play.
The man is hard already, but that doesn’t surprise me. I know what I’m doing, they all know that. It’s so easy to get them off. “You like that, don’t you, daddy?” His cock is in my hand, throbbing and hot. I don’t like dirty talk. Oliver seems to. “You like it when I’m a dirty girl.”
The thing about men is they’re all the same. Show a little skin and they fall at your feet. It gives me a feeling of power I’ve never found anywhere else. I’m the school slut, and everyone knows it. I don’t care. I’ve been called worse. “You’re damn right I do.” Oliver is pathetically simple to control. He’s like clay, easily mouldable in my hot hands. The poor soul, I’m probably the best lover he’s had in his life.
On the wall behind the bed hangs a family photograph, everybody hugging and smiling. It’s an ironic statement considering this marriage is falling apart. Oliver slips a hand into my thong. I sweep a hand across his balls. “Tell me I’m better than your wife.” We both know I am.
He doesn’t need to speak. I don’t expect him to, either. He swats at my pussy, hardly talented, like a middle school boy having sex for the first time. “You’re better than my wife. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Men are such impatient creatures, so simple, so motivated by lust. When a man is horny, you can get whatever you want from them.
His work pants fall to the floor and crumple at his feet. A family man, people call him, as if he doesn’t get fucked by mistresses in secret. It makes all of this much more exciting, the concept of secrecy. I’ve always loved secrets. On my knees, I take his cock in my mouth, sloppy and loud, the way he likes it. The window is open. It’s way past my curfew.
My hair is being pulled, hard. I adore this. Giovanni, though timid and introverted on the daily, becomes completely different during sex. I adore unleashing that side of him. “You’re just so…” I don’t know. Oliver jolts, a mutter in his throat. “Just so, what’s the word?”
There’s a lot of words I could be, and a lot of them I should be ashamed of. He’s nowhere near as large as Giovanni. My gag reflex is much more controlled. I make a noise, a sort of mumble, his cock throbbing in my throat. “Alluring,” he says, and makes a sort of moan. That’s one way of putting it. “You’re just so alluring.” His hands fumble, knotted in the roots of my hair.
I need air, but I don’t dare pull away. Instead, I open my eyes. Evelyn is standing in the doorway, watching silently.
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