Masturbating with Danny. It’s like—almost having sex with him. God, he’s never going to let me live this down. I’ve hardly ever touched myself. What would make me do it with him looking at me?
What would Rachel think? And what would David and Charlotte say? They’d be shocked and appalled. Probably kick me out. And I’d deserve it.
But the way Danny makes me feel—hot and out of control. Always out of control. And I was beyond out of control today. He sets me on fire with only a look.
It doesn’t matter though. I can’t go there.
Danny’s the worst kind of guy. The kind who only cares about himself. What he wants, when he wants it. He’s like my dad, who took off when I was two because he wasn’t ready to be a father. He only hung around when Mom got knocked up long enough to realize it was a lot of work to take care of a family.
Mom got sick and no one was there but me. She didn’t have a husband to care for her, to hold her hand, rub her back. To be there. And now I don’t have anyone. No mom. No dad. Because she chose the wrong guy.
I don’t need that in my life. I need someone who puts my needs before his own. Someone who’ll stick around for the long haul.
Danny’s not that guy.
Danny’s the kind of guy you date, but don’t marry. The kind you—screw.
He’s the one you have that last, hot fling with before you marry the right guy. Danny’s the one you sow wild oats with.
Man, would I ever like to sow some oats with Danny. I lean my forehead on the cool tile, letting the thought soak into my skin. His cock buried deep inside me as he pumps his hips, the way my fingers did. Imagining him there is easy. I’ve been doing that for years.
Seeing him touching himself, thinking about how those hands would feel on my body and in me. His dick rubbing the places inside I can’t reach. His mouth on my breasts, but with no clothes to mute the feel of his slippery tongue on my nipple. His hands on my butt, pulling me against him, touching that place he touched the other day that sent a surge of electricity through me.
And I want so badly for him to do it again.
It would be so easy to give in. He did tell me to just say the word and he could make it happen. I bet I could call him right now. Would he? Heck, he might still be right outside. Naked. Hot and naked.
But could he keep an affair secret? Forever? Or will he rub my face in it for eternity?
Will I get married and, ten years from now, have Danny staring at me over the Thanksgiving turkey, his shit-eating grin reminding me he knows what’s under my dress?
Of course he would. He’s Danny.
I finish rinsing my hair and get out of the shower.
No. This stops now, or I’ll forever regret it.
I probably already will.
At the women’s shelter, I stack the blocks for the third time only to have chubby little hands smash them into rubble on the brightly colored rug. Two tiny teeth peek out from behind a cherub’s smile, and little brown eyes light up. Xavier waves his arms in the air, squealing.
“You like that, don’t you, little man?” I tickle his belly and he chuckles as he grabs my hands, rolling to his side.
My phone vibrates. I dig it out from my pocket as I start stacking the blocks for Xavier to knock down all over again. “Hello?”
Someone breathes on the other end.
“Hello?” I say again.
A tremulous sigh comes across the line.
I look at the screen, but the number isn’t one I recognize. “I’m hanging up if you don’t say something.”
“Wait.” A young woman says, “Is this Mona Lisa Clark?”
“Yes. How can I help you?”
The silence stretches. Did she hang up? I check the screen, but the time for the call is still counting.
“Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m Samantha Robins. I’m your dad’s ex-girlfriend.”
“My dad?” My voice is shrill in my ears as my throat tightens.
Another sigh comes through. “Yes. He—well, he took off about five and a half years ago.”
I grip the phone. “Why are you calling now? Why call at all?”
“Because Cassie won’t stop asking. And I finally told her about you.”
“Cassie who?” I prop my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I grab Xavier before he gets too far from me. Dragging him back to sit in my lap, I let him gnaw on my fingers.
“My little girl; her name’s Cassie. She’s five now. And she keeps asking for a sister. You’re the only one she’s got.”
My core goes cold. “I’m her sister?”
“I’m sorry. I thought maybe you’d know about her—us.”
I pull Xavier to my chest, giving him a squeeze as I stand and carry him to Donna, another volunteer.