Page 65 of The Teacher

I continue watching him and his beautiful body, thinking of what to prod him with next. I need to calm the raging questions and doubts in my head.

“Did you hear about Miss Tweed’s fundraiser?” I ask him.

“No, not yet.”

“It’s at her house on Sunday night. I hate these things. How about you come along? I need you to be there for emotional support, I can’t do these things alone.”

Skipper smirks. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please.”

“Ask me again.”

“Mister Skipper Deep, please can you come to Miss Tweed’s stupid fundraiser?”

Skipper strokes his chin. “It’s at her house?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

I smile at him and he smiles back.

I really don’t have a single clue as to what he’s thinking.

DING.

The doorbell to the presidential suite rings. Skipper winks at me and dashes out of the room to answer it, only to reappear a moment later with a wine bucket and two glasses. He brings the bottle of chilled champagne sitting in ice to the bedside table.

I sit up properly against the silk pillow, covering my breasts with the bedsheet, and observe Skipper popping open the bottle. He does so with a satisfying relish. POP.

The lovely sound of bubbles fills the air as he pours us both a glass, bringing mine over to me in bed.

We cheers, chinking our glasses, and I taste the refreshing champagne. Expensive stuff.

“Here’s to the future,” Skipper says before he sips on the golden liquid.

“To the future.”

I smile, but I’m still left wondering. Wondering if this may be the highlight of my time with Skipper.

Maybe this might be the best time, and everything is downhill from here.

What will happen to me? What will happen to us?

Will he abandon me like he did eight years ago?

Am I enough for this billionaire businessman?

Is there even going to be a future for Skipper and me?

24

SANDY

The early morning light temporarily blinds me as I unlock my car door and step out into the beach parking lot.

“Hello, Sandy.” The voice surprises me, but I would recognize that American accent anywhere.