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”Open your thighs to me again,” he growls and I swallow.
”I will when you stop blackmailing me!”
He lets out a snarl, lunging at me and forces my thighs open. I cry out when he puts his mouth on me again and I buck relentlessly. ”Daddy no!” I cry, when he pushes me toward the edge, only to stop and then he does it again. I don’t know for how long it goes on but eventually I can’t take it anymore and pass out.
Philip’s face between my thighs is the last thing I see. I make one last effort to grind myself against his unrelenting mouth and then everything turns black.
*****
Feeling like a wraith, rattling its chains, I wake up next morning and drag my sheets down the hallway and into the bathroom. They smell of me and Philip, but mom is already running a load of laundry. I toss the sheets into the laundry basket. I feel awful. Last night was torture. I look at the washing machine with envy, look at the way it’s vibrating and unable to stop myself I jump up and sit on top of it. My eyes close and my mouth parts when I sag. Finally some relief. My thighs shudder, my teeth digging into my lower lip and I jerk my hips, trying to see if I can hit the sweet spot. I pull up my nightie for easier friction, when mom walks past the bathroom in her robe.
”Hi honey,” she calls, quickly glancing at me. ”What are you doing in there?”
Red in the face, I scramble and hurry to jump down while simultaneously pulling on my nightie. ”N…nothing,” I reply, ”just thought I'd do some laundry.”
Mom nods, leaving me to it and my heart pounds when I look at my own reflection in the mirror. I look as if I’m silently screaming and my body is up in knots. I’ve never been this miserable and I hurry to freshen up before joining mom for breakfast in the kitchen.
She’s eating her celery sticks and doing sudoku, and I really hope she has no idea what I was doing in the bathroom. But mom is humming to herself, blissfully unaware of what has been going on in this house since last night. My fingers clutch around the cereal bowl and I wonder how Philip got in anyway? How did he end up in my room?
”Did you see Philip go home this morning?” mom asks and I whip around.
The bowl in my hands crashes to the floor and mom lets out a sigh.
”Denise, try being more careful with my things. Money doesn’t grown on trees.”
I flush. ”What did you say about P…Philip?”
Mom shrugs. ”We had a little bit too much to drink last night and I told him to sleep over. But he must’ve woken up really early this morning.” She lets out a laugh. ”Funny, how he left the couch in the exact same condition. It’s as if he didn’t even sleep in it.”
He didn’t. He slept in my room but when I woke up, he wasn’t there.
I wring my hands. ”N…no, I didn’t see him. Didn’t even know he’d spent the night.”
Mom smiles at me. ”It was so nice of him to come to your graduation. You like him, right?”
”Mhm,” I just moan, unable to speak and mom leans over the table.
”Does he talk to you anything about the modeling industry?” Her smile turns forced and a little eager. It’s the same smile she uses when she tries to pressure me into something. ”I mean, does he tell you that you have more potential, that maybe…”
”I should go to college,” I finish with a gasp. My eyes flare and then it dawns on me. ”Did you tell Philip to try to convince me to go to college?”
”Yes, but don’t make a big deal out of it,” mom says calmly. ”I only want what’s best for you…”
”I can’t believe the two of you!” I throw my hands in the air, run into my bedroom and rummage through my closet. I yank out some clothes, put them on and head for the front door. Mom comes rushing down the hallway and she tries to stop me.
”Don’t blame Philip for this,” she says, while simultaneously picking up her phone to answer a work call. ”He only did what I asked.”
Tears burn in my eyes. I let out a sob, before leaving our apartment and I slam the door behind me.
7.
Philip
”Perfect,” I mutter, ”and turn your face toward the light.” I snap a couple of photos, already realizing how good they’ll be. It’s because of Denise. Because of the inspiration she has brought me and she’s my muse. The little muse, I tormented last night but it was just as torturous for me as it was to her. I barely made it back to the studio. I had to stop my car and run into almost every alley I came across, to spill. Fuck, I’ve left a trail all over this town because of her. I brush a hand over my forehead, telling the model to straighten a bit when a shadow forms in the doorway.
Even before I turn around, I already know who it is. That’s how in tune my body is to hers. I turn my head and her eyes bore into mine, anger flickering in them. She’s not happy but I pay little attention to that. All I can think about is how she looks in that indecently short shirt. I’ve told her not to walk around like that and it’s obvious she’s trying to provoke me. It should piss me off, but instead I feel an extreme pressure down my trousers. Memories of last night flash through my night, the way she looked when she pleaded, the way her eyes rolled back in her head, what she called me…I swallow.
”I see,” Denise says angrily as tears shimmer in her eyes and she puts her hands on her hips. ”You’ll make anyone a model, just not me!” Her eyes fire daggers at my model and for a moment, I fear Denise will try to fight her. I quickly tell the model that we’re done for the day. Once Denise and I are alone, I turn to her.
