Page 4 of Tonight's the Night
I want to strike fear in any man who looks at her. I want to keep her with me at all times and I want her on her back or on her kneels crawling toward me with her tongue swiping the inner rim of her plump, luscious lips over and over and I want to pull down on that lower lip to guide my thick cock into her mouth. I want her to swing her naked ass and look over her shoulder and dare me to come and fuck her even after I’ve spent all night with my cock buried balls-deep inside her little pussy. I want to keep her at my house here at all times and I do not want her to work outside the home. My mother was a feminist and my father and she split housework as evenly as they could manage. They both had stable jobs in an office — him in the mailroom and her as a billing clerk for the mid-size real estate firm they workedat.
That kind of thing won’t work for me andAngela.
What I want for Angela defies any notion of equitability. I want her dependent on me in every way and I want to give her anything and everything she could desire or wish for. I don’t want her to lift a finger and I want to carry her from room to room so she never has a chance of stubbing her toe. I want to take her to bed every night and make her exhausted by morning and I want to care for her in every way possible. Have a private chef — female — so Angela can have all the best food whenever she desires it. I want her to have her own swimming tutor — also female — because I know she loves thewater.
Only women will be allowed around mywoman.
I want to give her tennis lessons, I want to give her surfing instruction, I want her to wear the tiniest bikinis and the highest heels and the finest silks and most beautiful jewelry because I want her to have the best and never want foranything.
It’s not that I want these things for her because I am obsessed with her. No. I’ve realized I’m obsessed with her because all I can think of — in my every consuming thought, my every waking hour, and even in my goddamn dreams — is giving her everything. She is never not on my mind. I haven’t brought myself to have sex with a woman in a year. I think about the encounter a year ago after the girls’ graduation every single day and I feel sick about it and perversely drawn to the memory at the sametime.
The girl is nineteen years old. She is my daughter’s best friend. I’ve known her forever. It goes beyond what’s appropriate. It’s beyond the logic of inappropriate. I must have something seriously fucked up deep inside my soul for all the thoughts I have abouther.
The only way I’ve been able to banish thoughts of her from my mind is to envision that she is with someone else, which succeeds temporarily but then makes those same feelings of possession come roaring back with newlifeblood.
Angela brings out something primal in me. Something that we’ve evolved past in our species. It makes me feel sick to think about but I can’t deny that it’s what I want. I want to do everything for her. Everything and anything. Anything she could everwant.
Her wish would be my command. I would be her slave in all things material and emotional and she would be my slave in all thingssexual.
I’d never had this response to a woman in all my forty years on this earth. Before the divorce, I was devoted to Emily’s mom. I was a good provider. After the divorce, I became detached from sex. Since that day a year ago when Angela walked in on a most intimate moment my sexual drive has been through the roof and with no suitable outlet, and the only outlet that I would take is in the form of Angela herself — my wonderful daughter’s bright, bubbly friend. What kind of sickness would drive a man to have these feelings for a woman likeAngela?
Fuck.
Having her in my office is now making me loathe myself all over again. It’s been a year and the feelings are right where they’ve been the wholetime.
“Can we borrow your car, Mr. Stevens?” Angela asks, tugging my eyes back to hers. She peeks at me from beneath the fray of her thick, wavy brown bangs. Her bright blue eyes look particularly striking against her tanned skin. A year of college in California will do that. I picture her walking along the beach in her little bikini, oblivious to all the maleattention.
“Sure, as long as you don’t drink,” I reply. The idea of having her in my car is already making my blood pressure rise a few points. I stand from my seat and dig into my front pocket for my keys, slipping my car key off the ring. I toss it to Angela and she catches it deftly while I turn away from her and Emily to go over to my bar cart and pour myself anotherdrink.
“Thanks, Mr.Stevens.”
“I’m going to go get ready,” Emily says, squealing. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I love reunions! Angela, your dress and things are in the guest room. Meet you downstairs in twentyminutes?”
“Give me thirty,” she says. “I need to wash the chlorineoff.”
“Right!”
I fill my glass with three fingers of scotch and toss it back as I hear the door click closed across the room. I let out a deep exhale and rake my fingers through my hair as I turnaround.
To see Angela with her back against my desk and her feet turned in slightly at the toes, still looking up at me through those dark lashes and thickbangs.
“Jesus, Angela,” I say, walking past her toward the couch, “you scared me. You shouldn’t be in here likethis.”
She comes around and hops up on my desk and parts her knees slightly, curling her fingers around the edge of the dark mahogany. If she were less innocent I’d think she was trying somethinghere.
“Can I have some?” She tilts her chin toward mydrink.
“No fucking way,” I say, my hips shifting up. If she doesn’t shut those legs and get the hell out of here I might just have enough drink in me to tell her I’m about to do something. No amount of liquor in the world would tip my hand and make me actually do something. But my lips might pryloose.
“Why not?” She slides down my desk with a squeak that’s meant to provoke. “There’s going to be alcohol at thereunion.”
“Like hell there is. If you’re driving, you’re notdrinking.”
“Emily will drive.” She studies my expression and sighs. “Fine. I won’t steal your alcohol. Can you help me with something else,though?”
I just watch her as she saunters toward me, her lean, long thighs working intandem.
“I don’t want to lose your key, so can you help me tie it to my top?” She reaches behind her at the nape of her neck and pulls the two strings loose, causing her tits to bounce up and then settle back into place. She looks at me expectantly and gives her chin a little waggle as I grit myteeth.
