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She scoops out another spoonful and I smooth my tie.
“I’d pick a bigger spoon if I were you. It’s going to take the whole night to sweeten that tea.”
Gasping she twitches, dropping the copper spoon and it slams and rolls over the floor. It lands close to me and normally I would have picked it up and handed it to her but now I don’t. I want her to come closer to me even if it involves picking up a stupid spoon.
“How long have you been standing there and watching me?” she asks and she tries to sound stern and firm but instead she sounds very youthful. And innocent.
“Long enough,” I reply but it wasn’t nearly long enough. I could watch her all the time and never get tired of it.
“Why?” she whispers, slowly walking over to me and her breasts sway underneath the thin fabric of her dress and they’re bigger than they seemed on the photo. “I’m not yours to look at.” She crouches down, her trembling fingers moving to pick up the spoon.
“You are now,” I rasp and her eyes flash to mine and looking down at her like this, makes me want to move inside of her until she lets out one angelic cry after the other. Scurrying she gets up, hurrying over to the counter again.
“Please Mr. Rowe, I don’t want any trouble.” She bites her lip, not looking at me. “The Bryce’s, they...they’re my family.”
They’re not. Not really but she’s got it in her head that they are and that she has to do whatever they tell her. She feels indebted to them.
“I’m not trouble.” I’m worse than that. “I’m just a guest.”
“Mr. Rowe, yoo-hooo,” Pattie calls, “I have some photographs I’d like to show you.”
With a formal nod, I turn and leave and I hear the girl breathe out behind me. I make sure to keep my features friendly when I sit down in the living room again and Pattie proceeds with showing me baby pictures of Morton. I nod as if I’m widely interested and Mr. Bryce pours me a glass of bourbon.
Soon after, the girl walks into the room, carrying a tray and it shudders when she puts it down on the table. She hands me a glass but I decline and she seems relieved. Perhaps she didn’t want our hands to touch. She doesn’t like the way I make her feel, that much is clear. I confuse her.
She confuses me too. I’m not used to obsessing. I don’t obsess over other people, over my career or even over money. If I lay back, things usually fall down into my lap anyway. But not her. With her it’s going to be more challenging but eventually she too will end up in my lap.
And then I’ll bounce her up and down until she squeals.
Grabbing her own glass, she takes a couple of deep gulps and I watch the drink run down her throat. Her head is bent back, the ends of her hair skimming her ass that seems to be pouting at me. Taunting me because I can’t touch it yet and I crave her more than I thought a man could crave...
“Mr. Rowe,” Pattie says a little sharper than usual and I turn to her with raised brows. “Whatever are you looking at that seems to fascinate you so much?”
“That painting over there,” I lie, pointing at a painting that’s right behind Zinnia and she flushes, getting out of the way. “Is it a Rockwell?”
“Indeed it is,” Pattie exclaims. “Do you enjoy art, music...? Oh I know, Zinnia dear you must play something for us.”
Mr. Bryce nods in agreement and my eyes go to the girl who shakes her head and she pinches the hem of her dress, looking adorable and I feel a strange jab to my gut.
“No, I couldn’t possibly...”
“Go on,” Mr. Bryce says firmly and the girl’s hand clutches around the glass before she drops it and walks over to a harp. Sitting down on the velvet chair, she stretches her fingers, takes a deep breath and starts playing.
She’s not very good at it, maybe because she’s nervous and the weather drowns out much of the sound. Pattie keeps cheerfully blabbering in my ear but I make a gesture to let her know I’m enjoying the music and she silences.
It allows me a moment to watch the girl without being disturbed and I swallow harshly anytime her thighs brush together. Anytime she puffs and a strand of her hair falls behind her shoulder and anytime she licks her lips, like she deep down feels the hunger too.
She has no idea what awaits her, what I’ve done to make sure that I get close to her. To ensure that she grows fond of me, fond enough to allow me to be in her presence without looking at me like she knows every little secret in my black heart. If my plans fail then I don’t know what I will do. I haven’t thought that far ahead and I tell myself to rely on charming her. Coaxing her and get her to automatically turn to me.
After a while, she stops playing and we applaud and her eyes hesitantly go to me, softening a little like she’s not used to being praised.
A maid enters and declares that dinner is ready.
This time I hold out my elbow in front of everybody else and this time, the girl has no choice but to take it. Her hand on my sleeve is steadier now and it feels good having her beside me, feel her hipbone accidentally bump against my thigh and watch the slight heaves of her chest.
We gather around the dinner table and I want the girl right next to me but Pattie declares that the seat next to Zinnia belongs to Morton. A muscle ticks in my jaw. Even when he’s not here, he’s a fucking pest.
The girl sits down opposite from me but she doesn’t look comfortable with me being able to look right at her. Her eyes keep darting and she drops the knife when she’s about to cut her food and she misses the mark a couple of times when she brings her fork to her mouth.
