Double Dare(236)

And it was true, I did need a bra now. My girls were Double D’s, they’d puffed up overnight from invisible A’s and I could no longer go around without some support, my jugs were now so juicy and pendulous that they strained against my baby tee, the nips poking out like pebbles.

“Can you go this weekend?” I asked tightly, my voice strained. There was no point in whispering anymore, Drake could hear everything.

“Oh honey, this weekend is so soon,” Lorena replied, waving her hand at me, blowing at her nail polish. “How about a month from now? I have so much going on,” she offered as an excuse, although not saying exactly what. Probably lying by the pool watching Carlos, or him watching her, whichever way it went.

But our conversation got my stepdad’s attention. He snorted before growling, “Lorena, I think you should take her this weekend.”

I looked at him with grateful eyes, gazing into those dark blue irises. When had Daddy become so handsome, so arresting? My skin sizzled as he looked back at me, the intensity in the air electrifying, almost buzzing with our shared heat.

But Mom was immune to it all, sensing nothing.

“Oh alright,” pouted Lorena. “I’ll take her this weekend. Fine, since you guys are ganging up against me.”

And it was then that my stepdad got up, scooting back his chair and standing, his massive frame dominating the tiny breakfast nook.

“I’ve got to get to work now,” he rumbled, elegant in his thousand dollar suit. “Lorena, Cleo,” he nodded before striding out, his gait smooth, the long steps swallowing the distance in seconds.

And I sighed. Drake Markham … successful businessman, pillar of the community, handsome, charismatic, a man about town before he met my mom. How did Lorena snag him, when women everywhere were drooling, throwing themselves in his path?

But it’s not that hard to understand because my mom is really pretty with a bubbling, engaging personality. She used to be one of his cleaning ladies, someone the agency sent to sweep and vacuum every weekend. After six months at the estate, Drake noticed her. Not that I was surprised. My mom is a bombshell, the kind who has curves busting out in every direction, lots of pizzazz and juice.

And I saw the way she flirted with him, the way she always happened to trip and fall into his arms when he was around, the way she made herself available in the most obvious manner. And Drake was a man, he noticed too. He liked her curves, the way her ass was round and juicy, and pretty soon they were getting it on on a regular basis despite the fact that Lorena scrubbed his bathrooms.

“Mom, where were you?” I’d ask from the dining table after Mom had another late night. “Was it the Markham Estate again?”

I was almost afraid to ask. Before Lorena signed up with this housekeeping service we’d been living paycheck to paycheck, with no benefits, no security, nothing except the cash my mom brought home each week. So I was afraid that her illicit encounters with the boss were going to bring our newfound financial security down with a crash.

And Lorena nodded.

“I was with Drake Markham,” she exclaimed, fanning herself. “He’s so handsome isn’t he?” she giggled. “Now excuse me, I’ve got to change,” she pranced off, not even bothering to hide the fact that her uniform was askew, her hair a mess, no doubt from the hot session she’d just had.

But I only shook my head, not knowing what to say. Don’t sleep with the boss? If the housekeeping service finds out, they’re going to fire your ass in a second and we’ll be living out of the car again? But these words had been said a thousand times before, so I just put my head down, turned back to my homework and kept my mouth shut.

But Lorena struck gold, literally. One morning when I got up, I found my mom making pancakes in the kitchen of our trailer.

“Honey,” she said, “Come take a seat, I made your favorite blueberry flapjacks!”

And I stumbled sleepily to the low bench, plopping myself down on the cheap velour. When had Lorena ever been up before noon? Usually she only took afternoon jobs because her late nights with Mr. Markham were so frequent now that morning bookings were impossible. So to find her puttering around in an apron, happily humming at the crack of dawn was a change.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked blearily, rubbing my eyes. “Why are you up?”

“Oh honey, I wanted to take care of you, make sure you had a nutritious breakfast before heading to school,” she admonished fondly from the griddle. “Besides isn’t blueberry your favorite? Here, and I got your favorite whipped butter too,” she said, plunking down a plastic tub of the good stuff in front of me.