Page 1 of Good Intentions, Vol. 1

Chapter One

Nick

Three and a half years later

“I expect you to be home at seven sharp,” Claire repeats for the tenth time in my ear. “I don’t want for my girls to have to wait for me, and anyway, the event starts at nine, we just have to have a little time beforehand, to get drinks just by ourselves tonight.”

I wondered for a second if the girls were just a code for a boy-toy, but push that thought away quickly. My wife may be many things, but she isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t risk the money she has access to thanks to our marriage, not just for sex. The woman lives and breathes money, and she used sex to get what she wants, my money.

“Yes, I remember,” I say like a dutiful husband. It’s easier this way. Long ago had I stopped trying to get anything from her. Playing along is a much easier option. “After I’ve taken care of Ben, put him in bed, I’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, I can hear she has already lost all interest in this conversation. “Marina can take care of him, and you can have an easy night, relax, and watch a game or something. I will be fine on my own. You just need to be home in case something happens. Besides, you know how he gets if you’re not there to tuck him in. Hell, if you want to, you can go out with the guys. You know I told Marina we’ll need her to stay tonight.”

Hmm... Interesting. Not that she has ever shown much care or love to my boy, corrected, our boy, but this is the first time she ever said my attendance wasn’t needed at one of her events. The woman is obsessed with appearances. We need to present a united front, show the people everything is perfect in our lives, even though it’s the complete opposite.

“I don’t mind taking care of him,” I say as I push the glass door to the break room open.

I don’t look around; just go straight to the coffee pot. My secretary mysteriously disappeared fifteen minutes ago, and I need my fix, or I’ll never stay awake and alert in the meeting I’m having this afternoon. The little guy kept me up most of the night demanding we play with the dinosaurs at three a.m.. Claire let him sleep until eight p.m. since Marina had somewhere to go, and she was in charge. Guess it was easier for her that way. Nice and quiet, just the way she liked it.

“And I’ll meet you there.”

I have no desire to go to another one of the events, playing nice with stuck-up suits there, but it’s better than hearing about it afterwards, and be told I was such a disappointment as a husband.

“Suit yourself, Nick. I have to go now. I don’t want to lose my hair appointment. Bye!” I get dead air.

Jesus!

A hair appointment?

Not a mention of our son?

Not a single question of my day?

God, I messed up! One drunken night, and it landed me right in hell. Granted I got my boy as a reward, but this shit is starting to get unbearable. All I had were good intentions, but I was proven right by that old saying. The road to hell is paved by good intentions.

“Hello, Mr. Thompson,” the sweet voice whispers behind me, almost bringing me to my knees.

Turning around I’m faced with yet another piece of evidence that I’m living in hell. In front of me sits the girl who has been visiting my dreams for months now. All that blonde hair falling down to the middle of her back, almost showing the map to her apple like ass. The forbidden fruit. What I would give to just get one chance to take a bite of it. And that white blouse she’s wearing... damn! Is she even aware it’s slightly see-through? That it’s giving me the peek at her perky little tits? They’re just the right size for me to take one all in my mouth. Just thinking about it makes the saliva pool in my mouth. God, I hope not, because her demeanor says she would lock that shit up and do it tight. Most girls her age are happy showing what they have, and taunt men on every step they make. But, not Heather.

“Good morning, Heather,” my voice comes through rougher than usual, and I have to catch myself to try and hide it.

Don’t want little Miss Heather here to know what her effect on me is. She would slap me with a lawsuit faster than I can blink. Not to mention not let me ever get my fill of looking at her.

“Do you need anything Sir?” Her question throws me off.

I can think of a few little things I need. What would she do if I said I need her to bend over that table she’s sitting at?

“I could have brought you your coffee,” she eyes the forgotten mug in my hand.

The mug that’s close to my waist, or close to my hardening cock. When was the last time the sight of a woman sitting down got me hard? I don’t think it’s ever happened.

“No. That’s all right, I needed to stretch my legs anyway,” I really do try looking at her gorgeous face, but her nipples poking at her shirt are demanding all of my attention.

Wish I could bite them, just to give her a little sting of pain before I licked them and made it all better. Heather just smiles at me. All I can think of is how much I want to fuck that smile off her face and make her scream. I swallow a groan when my dick brushes against the zipper of my pants.

I’m a married man.

I’m a married man.

I repeat the mantra to save me from another colossal mistake. Besides, at twenty-four she’s way too young for me.

“Anyway, I should get going,” I say, but I don’t move a muscle.

After a few awkward moments, she takes pity on me, and standing from her chair she comes to the counter, cleaning the remains from her lunch. I feel her turning her head my way, but I don’t look. The proximity is way too tempting.

“If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask, Sir,” she whispers so close to me I can feel her breath caressing my cheek.

After a second of just standing there, probably waiting for me to say something, she turns and leaves the room. On the way back to my office I can’t help but repeat her words over and over in my mind. Coming up with a few things I could ask her to do for me. One more exhilarating than the other. But I know that would only land me in hot water. Or at least hotter than I am in now. And was it just my imagination, or did she lean a little bit closer to me? God, I’m fucked.