Page 10 of Consultation with Dad's Best Friend
Ana is in her late thirties. She has a voluptuous body, and she’s a few cup sizes larger than me. She obviously adores Mike because she doesn’t stop praising him.
“Mr. Miller is the best boss I’ve had,” she gushes. “So generous and understanding.”
I nod in agreement.Not to mention hot.
“How long have you known him?” she asks me.
“For eighteen years,” I say. “Since the day I was born.”
Dad said Mike drove Mom to the hospital to give birth to me because Dad was at work and couldn’t make it home.
“I see, nice,” Ana comments, looking a bit jealous. “So he’s like a daddy to you, huh?”
“Yeah, you can say that,” I say. And I wish he weren’t because it was the reason he wouldn’t have sex with me.
Ana steps closer to me and suddenly blushes. “Does he have a girlfriend in Sunnyfield?”
OMG. Ana has the hots for Mike, too.My mouth falls open for a moment. “No,” I say, glaring at her. “He’s gay. It’s why he isn’t married.”
The words just flew out of my mouth. I couldn’t help it.
“No, he isn’t,” Ana glares back. “He’s had women staying over. Various women. Gorgeous, too.”
“He did?” I squeal because of jealousy rather than surprise. My body temperature rises and I can hardly control the volume of my voice. “Well. I didn’t know. That’s news. Wow. My dad would be surprised. I guess he’s changed, I mean, he might be bisexual.”
Ana shrugs. “A lot of people are, nowadays.” But her interest in him visibly diminishes, and she doesn’t ask me any more questions.
But I’m curious now. “When was the last time he brought a woman home?”
“As far as I know, it was probably two years ago. He went back to Sunnyfield for a wedding, and when he came back, he was different. I thought he probably met someone over there.”
“Oh really? Interesting,” I say while my brain works quickly. This couldn’t be true. Could it be that the attraction I felt for Mike that day was as strong as what he felt for me?
After working for a couple hours online in the afternoon, I wait excitedly for Mike to come home. But he phoned me and told me to have dinner by myself because he would be late.
My excitement and patience wear out at around ten o’clock. I go to bed without seeing Mike.
The next day is pretty much the same. I spend my morning at the beach and afternoon in front of my computer. I force my eyes open until Mike comes home, but he doesn’t give me a chance to seduce him. He also turns off his cellphone so I can’t talk to him later that night.
Shit. I screwed it up. Mike is tougher than I thought. Or I’m not as good a seductress as I thought.
I toss and turn in bed, hating myself. What have I done wrong? Do I repulse Mike? OMG. He must think I’m a slut! I thought all men liked sluts? Damn. I’m so stupid. But then, if I were all prim and proper, would Mike make a move?
On Wednesday afternoon, when I turn on my computer to work, it’s slow because it’s downloading updates. I know it’s going to last for a while, and it’ll interfere with my communication app. I call Mike to ask for his permission to use his computer, but he doesn’t answer the phone. It’s past my regular working hour, and I don’t want to wait any longer. So I turn on his computer, intending to tell him later. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
Before turning off his computer, however, I’m struck by an idea.
I click on the icon of his mailbox and send an email to my account at Talk to Cay and add it to his contacts. And then I send him an advertisement for my website.
“Having trouble with your love relationship? Not sure how to confess to her? Is he cheating on you? Maybe it’s time to move on? Call Cay! She has the answers! Testimonials…”
My heart pounds violently long after I complete my misdeed. I stare at the incoming message in Mike’s inbox, my finger itching to delete it. This is wrong. I’m not only infringing on privacy but also trying to manipulate him…but this is my only choice. Besides, all I’m doing is making sure he gets the email. Whether he’s going to read it or even open it is his business, not to mention whether he’ll contact me.
This reasoning sets my conscience at ease, and I turn off Mike’s computer. Needless to say, I’ll not tell him I used it.
I don’t see Mike for the next day because he again goes out early and returns home late. He never even turns on his home computer. I turn it on Friday afternoon and see that my email is buried in hundreds of other messages. Shit. I’ve got to think of another way.
Chapter 10
