I guess I'm just hung up on this girl. Amy. And she's not just any girl; she's my stepdaughter. It sounds wrong, but feels so right.
I quietly slide out of bed, careful to not wake Amy, and I slip on my clothes. I take another look at Amy … her angelic, sleeping face and her perfect curves, and my cock already doesn't care that I have an upcoming meeting with Susan because I can feel it twitching in my pants. It's daring me to slip right back between the sheets.
Not now, I think, and I walk into the living room; I have business to take care of first.
Gracie Mansion is huge. It drips with history.
So when I walk into the main room of the house, I can't help but wonder about this building's place in history. Visions of Mayors past, and even early New York Federalists and Alexander Hamilton—okay, okay… now I really need to fucking focus.
I grab my coffee and sit on the couch, powering up a nearby computer. I launch Skype and immediately, Susan's call comes through with the sound of shrill ringing. The ringing seems especially irritating this morning for some reason. Maybe it's because I'd rather be back in bed with Amy.
"Well, aren't you an eager one this morning," I laugh. She's right on time, down to the second.
She eyes me suspiciously and continues, "You look tired. Sleep much last night?"
It seems like that's a thinly veiled question for something, but I shrug it off. "Apparently not enough, but this coffee should do the trick," I smile, pointing down at the steaming mug.
"Well, I have some news that may wake you up," Susan replies.
"Good or bad?" I ask, but then quickly say, "Give it to me either way."
"It's good," she replies. "You're probably winning … if you count New York City."
"Really?" I say with a yawn, running my fingers through my hair. I just remembered that I didn't bother brushing it before jumping on this meeting with Susan.
"Are you okay, Parker?" Susan asks.
"What? Of course I am," I say. "I'm fine. I just woke up, that's all. That's great news."
She thinks for a moment, and her silence tells me that she's onto me. I've never been good at hiding things from Susan. She sees right through me.
"Let me just ask you. What's Amy really doing on this team?"
"She's uh," I think carefully about what I should exactly label her as, "functioning as my advisor."
But it doesn't matter what I call her because Susan can sense that something's going on between us.
"Oh really? Is that what you're calling her?"#p#分页标题#e#
"Yeah, uh, look, I think we can talk more about this during—" I begin to say, but as soon as I do, Amy enters the room.
She's wearing one of my button-up shirts … only a few buttons clasped together … and nothing else. The shirt just barely reaches her thighs and I have the distinct feeling that if she were to turn around, I'd have a nice view of her ass. It's falling effortlessly across one of her shoulders, nearly exposing a breast. My cock takes notice and twitches in my pants.
I look back at my computer, realizing I'm still in a meeting with Susan.
Fuck. Susan's noticed Amy's entrance as well, and her eyes are nearly ready to pop out of their sockets.
"No way—you're fucking kidding, right?" Susan exclaims. "I can't believe I'm seeing this."
"Calm down," I say. "Look, I have to go; we'll talk again soon—I promise."
"Fuck that Parker," Susan says. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Do you realize what you've done? Do you realize what kind of shit you're in now?"
"That's a little dramatic," I reply.
"Dramatic?" she laughs, but I can tell she thinks that this is anything but funny.
"I don't really give a fuck what anyone thinks. You know that," I say.
"This is different," Susan says. "You're fucking your daughter, Parker! What's the public going to think about that?
"Stepdaughter," I correct her.
"How long do you think you can keep this hidden?" Susan asks.
I'm silent for a moment, and Susan continues, "You'll be kicked out of Gracie Mansion. You realize that, don't you? If Giuliani couldn't even stay there with his mistress, what makes you think you can stay there with yours … your stepdaughter no less?"
I'm still silent, trying to find the right words, and Susan, no longer able to stomach it all, drops a bomb into my lap.
"Never mind," she says. "I actually don't need you to answer any of those questions because I quit."
"Wait—" I begin to say, but she interrupts me.
"I can't work with you."
And just like that, Susan's gone.