Page 20 of Salace

I’m pretty sure that I’ve figured it out after this chance meeting with her in a car driven by a much older man.

It’s no wonder she doesn’t want to spend time around me or any of the guys at school, and I can’t say I really blame her.

She’s into older guys.

I never stood a chance.

JULIA

Aimee won't be back for twenty-four hours. I hate it when she's not here. It leaves too much time sitting alone with myself and my thoughts. It leaves too much time alone to drink away all my problems and stress. I pour myself another glass of vodka, feeling the burn as it slides down my throat. I lean back in my chair and stare at the empty space across from me, where Aimee usually sits. It's funny how someone can have such a big impact on your life, even when they're not around.

I take another sip, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread through my body. I know I shouldn't be drinking so much, but it's the only way I can find any peace. The only way I can forget about all the things that bother me. The only way to stop thinking abouthim.A teenage boy that I shouldn't be thinking about at all.

As the night wears on, I start to feel the effects of the alcohol. My thoughts become fuzzy and I feel a sense of detachment from the world around me. It's a feeling I've gotten used to over the years. It makes me bolder. Stronger. Better.

I get up to pour myself another drink, but as I reach for the bottle, my hand knocks my phone off the edge of the counter.

I could text him.I could text him and tell him to come over, but I know that would be a mistake. He's just a kid, barely legal, and I'm twice his age. It's not right, and I know I shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. But the more I try to push him out of my mind, the more he seems to invade my thoughts.

I pick up my phone and stare at it for a moment, wondering if I should text him anyway. What harm would it do? He's mostly old enough to make his own decisions, isn't he?

But then I remember the consequences that could come from such reckless actions. I’ve already crossed a line, haven’t I? I have a reputation to uphold, a daughter to care for. An image to protect. If anyone were to find out about what I was thinking, it would ruin everything. I’d definitely lose custody of Aimee.

I take a deep breath and put the phone down. No, this is a bad idea. I need to stop thinking about him and focus on something else. As I make my way back to my chair, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It's been a while since I've looked at myself like this. The bags under my eyes are deep and prominent. My hair is a mess, and my clothes are wrinkled. I look like a woman on the verge of a breakdown.

I sigh and take another sip of vodka, feeling the burn in my throat. I wish I could just forget about everything, forget about all my problems and the boy that's been occupying my thoughts.

But as the night drags on, I find myself unable to stop thinking about him. His youthful energy and carefree spirit are so different from my own jaded existence. Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about him. He's a reminder of who I used to be. Who I could be.

I pour myself another drink and stare at the empty space across from me. A sudden burst of courage overtakes me, and before I know it, I'm stripping off my clothes, slipping into some lingerie, painting my face in the best makeup to hide all my flaws and attempting to snap the sexiest selfies I can.

My heart races as I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My body trembles with excitement and nerves, but I push those feelings aside and focus on the task at hand. I adjust my lingerie, making sure every curve is accentuated just right, and then I pick up my phone.

I start snapping pictures, trying different angles and poses. I've never done anything like this, but for some reason, it feels liberating. As I take more pictures, I feel the rush—the thrill of being daring. Of behaving like a teenager—reckless and vain.

When I finish, I take a step back to admire my work. I look absolutely stunning in the lingerie, my curves highlighted perfectly. As I continue to stare, I feel a familiar heat building between my thighs, and I know that I won’t stop here.

With a sudden burst of inspiration, I grab my phone and hit record. Slowly, sensually, I begin to dance, my body undulating to the beat of some imaginary music. I lose myself in the moment, letting my inhibitions fall away as I explore my desires.

Before long, I'm moaning softly, my body writhing with pleasure as I bring myself to the brink of orgasm while I imagine Kasey’s sinewy body and hot mouth on me.

KASEY

Huh.

I’m parked down the street, but with still a good view of the car as Aimee gets out first, then the man. He gives her a smile as she waits for him, then they hug. The way he holds her—almost against her will—kind of stirs something in me.

Aimee doesn’t seem to mind much though, and if she does, she’s hiding it better than I would.

I lean forward over the steering wheel as my eyes narrow, and I can feel something else starting to stir in me.

Jealousy.

Cold, hard, envy.

That she would let some guy just hold her like that when she barely gives me the time of day.

“Must be nice,” I mutter, as I blow out a breath. Leaning back in my seat, I run a hand through my hair before I decide I’ve had enough of watching them, then turn the car back on.

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