Page 9 of Such a Sweet Girl

I grinned as I stood, cradling my cum with my hand to go clean up.

Sweet little Francesca won’t know what hit her.

FIVE

FRANCESCA

Abandoning my usual outfit of shorts and a tee, I rummaged through the end of the wardrobe that I rarely bothered with. Where denim morphs into lighter fabrics, soft linens and embroidered details, the hues brightening to a rainbow of pastels.

The urge to put on something decidedly more feminine than my usual lakeside attire caught me by surprise. Nick didn’t care what I wore. He barely stole his eyes from the screen to even notice.

But his father had noticed me.

After the shock of him appearing out of the blue, and Nick neglecting to mention him, Alexander had knocked me sideways. My dad looked ancient in comparison.

Ew.

Sort yourself out. You can’t go after the man you’ve been sleeping with’s dad.

Picking up my shorts, I resolved myself to do the right thing. Break it off with Nick instead of coasting through the summer, with lacklustre sex, for the sake of air con and some semblance of company.

I deserve more.

Nick probably deserved… Well, he probably deserved to wank into his shorts in the inevitable five minutes he’s not gaming. At least his palm didn’t get all needy like I did. A match made in heaven.

Grazing my fingers over the tiny orange stitches on the shorts, a nagging thought pinched me. If I wore one of my dresses, would Alexander’s eyes scrape over my thighs the way they had the previous day? The lingering of the light green gaze had fuelled a night of tossing and turning, replaying our meeting for most of the night.

Moving to the window, I peek out, searching through the trees for a glimpse of Alexander.

Nothing moved in the viewable snippets of the home next door.

Dropping the shorts, I go back to the wardrobe and pull out a cute summer dress, bright yellow with tiny white daisies embroidered all over. It fit snugly around my torso, flaring out at the waist in a skater style. The hem fell to mid-thigh, light and airy with every step.

Taking the stairs, I bounce between the decision to call it off with Nick or to go over and see if I can catch Alexander’s attention. Did I misconstrue his look? Just the idle fantasy of a disillusioned, perhaps desperate, woman? Or had electricity jolted him like it did me?

Just one more day of pretending.

I needed to see if it was all in my head.

Sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter, the plate of delicate bite-sized cherry tartlets lay untouched. Not even away from prying eyes would my parents dare to eat the food I made. I pick up the plate on the way past. The tartlets gathered in a tight little crowd beneath the plastic wrap.

Perhaps someone else would appreciate them.

Someone with thick biceps and a smile that could down planes.

No one responded to my knocking.

My skin grew balmy beneath the morning sun, my hair growing stickier by the second as heat reflected off the glass doors. The makeup I’d hastily applied came off onto my hand with every dab of my sweat-dampened face.

Eventually, I gave up, following the trail down to the lake. Our jetty sat empty, and I sank to the wooden boards, ditching my shoes and sinking my feet into the cool water.

The scarcest hint of morning mist clung to the far edges of the lake, mostly eradicated by the growing heat. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the earthy aroma that surrounded me: drying moss and the clutches of wild magnolias that cluster nearby.

As much as summers at the lake house dragged, I could never hate the spot by the river. From my perch at the end of the jetty, I can see the twisted roots of trees reaching into the depths like great ropes. Like a great mirror reflecting the sky above, the water shimmered, trees and clouds danced amongst the diamond-like sparkles.

A croak broke through my reverie, and I smiled at a small frog who’d taken up residence on a rock near the edge of the lake.

‘Good morning,’ I said. ‘Another hot one today.’

---