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Barrett
At forty years old, I was one of the youngest partners at my ad agency, and lately, I couldn’t remember why I was here. The top-floor office, and views of central park, the fancy coffee machine and lavish perks of the position all seemed a poor substitute for what I really needed more of.
Time.
More and more every day, I felt the spectre of time lost sitting on my shoulder. I didn’t want late night meetings and conferences that took the weekend up. I wanted playdates and cook outs and PTA meetings, preferably, with my wife, Emma, at my side. I wanted to live upstate, in some rambling old place with pumpkins on the porch at Halloween, and ridiculous Christmas lights in Winter. I wanted a fire to curl up next to with Emma in my lap, and a peaceful, small town beyond the window where I knew the neighbours for once. I wanted a real life, and for a long time now, I had felt like I was just waiting, surviving. Treading water until Emma came, and then everything made sense.
“Mr Bonneville, it’s Christopher on line one for you,” my assistant, Neil, said through the intercom.
“Put him through.” I sank into the leather chair that was my only comfort in my increasingly prison-like office and swung around to stare down at the view.
“Barrett, glad you’re there. I wanted to speak to you regarding the gala dinner tonight. Sebastian can’t go, some doctor’s appointment with his pregnant wife that can’t be missed,” Christopher, the founder of the company, sniffed. He wasn’t a man who had ever made time for family, despite having four kids and three ex-wives.
“Right. When is it again?”
“Starts at seven. Can you find the time?”
“It’s my au pair’s night off,” I pointed out, knowing it wouldn’t change anything, but feeling like some kind of token resistance had to be given. Emma was good at rearranging her schedule, but I still felt terrible every time I had to ask.
“And?”
“And I guess I’ll be there.”
“Good man. See you at lunch.”
Great, an evening gala event to attend alone. Evenings were times when I got to see my kids and have an excuse to be around Emma for a few hours, so they were pretty perfect. Once again, my work obligations took me further and further away from the things that made me happy. A black mood descended as I shrugged off my jacket. It was only the morning, but the air felt humid and my clothes felt like they were strangling me. I felt restricted and tight, and ripping through my workwear hulk style would have been very satisfying right now.
Instead, I turned on my computer, and indulged in my most secret of secret hobbies. My most taboo and illicit shame.
I accessed the nanny cams at home.
It had started innocently enough. I had called Emma to see if she could find a bag I’d left at home. She’d been the one to suggest that I look at the cameras and direct her to it. After that, I only looked now and then, once a week, maximum. That lasted for a few weeks. Now, six months in to my obsession, and I was checking it twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon.
Emma was back from the school run, and tidying the kitchen. I liked to pretend I was there with her, instead of locked in my office for another inane day. She went about her tasks efficiently, singing along to the rock music on the radio. Emma loved old-school rock, and half of her greatest hits were the soundtrack to my youth. The generational gap had never felt so wide.
After she finished tidying, she stopped in the middle of the space, and brought her hands over her head, stretching her beautiful body like a cat. This, right here, was my favourite part, the highlight of my workday. The music went up, and Emma let her long hair fall down, rotated her wrists and her neck. It always started out as a stretching routine, and devolving into dancing. I couldn’t look away. Her hips moved sinuously, and her back arched as she shook her tight little body, singing along as loudly as she could. Emma was like no one I’d ever met before. She was so vividly real, funny, and quick-witted, but so kind and tender with the kids. She was the perfect woman, and I was the creep who was watching her behind her back. My obsession had turned me into another kind of man, and I should feel worse about it than I did.
The music cut off suddenly, as Emma’s phone rang and she answered.
“Good morning, Mr Sahid, thank you for returning my call,” Emma said, in the tone I recognised as her formal one. The beautiful ease and happiness that had moved her while she was dancing was long gone, and now she was still, gripping the counter with one hand. “I wanted to ask you about the visa application. Is there anyway to extend, or does it have to be renewed?” she asked.
Visa application? Of course, Emma was British, and here on a visa. I didn’t know why I hadn’t even considered that she had paperwork to do to stay here. A stone-cold, anxious fist clamped around my heart, followed by a surge of adrenaline. A dark and delicious temptation flourished in the deepest corners of my twisted, possessive mind. I should have fought that urge, I really should have, but I wouldn’t. I had been looking for a way to Emma, a way to keep her forever, and she’d just given me one herself.
“Oh, really? I can’t apply from here?” Emma was saying, but I was already clicking out the feed and grabbing my desk phone.
“Neil, I need your help with something, no annoying questions asked. Can you do that?”
“I can sure try,” Neil said.
“Find out how long it takes to get married in New York state, and what needs to be done to start the process.”
* * *
I left work early,as I often did these days. When I got home, I was already hard and eager to see Emma. Hours of work, and the anticipation of seeing her always build up a head of steam in my pants, and only one thing would take the edge off. Jerking off was a poor substitute for the real thing. But then again, I had no idea how Emma would react to my feelings, and I couldn’t risk losing her. The thought that she might leave, worried over professional boundaries, or some other crap that I didn’t care about sobered my desire every time. I could only unleash the want I felt for Emma when I had her where I wanted her.
Trapped.
Mine.
I headed upstairs quietly, as soon as I was in, and went to her door. It was ajar slightly, and I could tell she wasn’t home. That vibrant energy she carried with her was lacking. She had, no doubt stayed late with the kids at the park. I pushed inside her room, and my eyes devoured everything in sight. I loved being in her space. I loved the scent of it, the feel of the things that touched her skin. Now, I didn’t know how long I had, so immediately started to look for her passport. It was neatly put away in her top drawer, and I took a few pictures of the details page and her visa, before placing it back, just so. As I turned away, a flash of pale pink caught my eye. My mouth went dry as I looked properly.
A pair of cotton panties, hanging out the dresser drawer, like they had snagged there and stopped it from closing. I was heading in that direction before I could stop myself. They shouldn’t have been as sexy as they were. There was an innocence to that plain, functional design that only turned me on more. Emma didn’t dress up in silky lace for others’ eyes. She didn’t expect anyone would see her underwear. It felt forbidden and illicit to see it here, without her knowledge. It felt dirty as hell to know what my sweet girl wore beneath her clothes. To touch it.
Downstairs, a door banged, and the sounds of the kids rushing about drifted upstairs. I slammed the drawer shut, and headed out of the room, the pale pink panties in my pocket.
“Oh! Mr Bonneville, I didn’t realise you were home,” Emma exclaimed, when I arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Henry was hanging off her neck as she took his shoes off, and Chloe was crouching down beside the shoe rank to tidy them up. My kids loved Emma so fucking much. I knew how they felt. I was going to make sure she would never leave us. We needed her. I needed her. Fuck, how I needed her.
“I’ve got some work to finish at home, so I’ll head up to the office, but I wanted to get out of there and clear my head. I’m going out tonight to a function, so won’t be eating dinner. I hate to ask, but can you take your night off tomorrow instead?” I muttered, annoyed that I had to work all night and mess Emma around. I’d already decided that if she was busy, I’d get a sitter instead. She shouldn’t suffer for my asshole boss. Emma nodded, her teeth catching on her lower lip in the way they did when she had something to say, but stopped herself. “What is it?” I asked her.
“It’s fine, really. I wasn’t going to be doing anything important.” Her eyes told me that there was more to say, but she was holding back.
“And–there’s more… let me have it.”
“It’s not really my place to say,” she muttered.
“I recognise that phrase as British for ‘I’m too polite to say something critical’,” I teased her. She huffed out a laugh. “Please, tell me. Speak freely,” I prompted.
“Fine. You have a great job, clearly, it’s supported Chloe and Henry like this,” she said gesturing around the high-ceiling foyer. It was true that I had been lucky in my work and enjoyed an extremely good compensation package for it. “But they’re getting so big, every day they’re learning new things, changing. Don’t miss it, ok?” she said, stunning me with the sudden personal insight. But then, Emma was like that. She saw so much more than anyone else about me. She saw me, and not my fancy job, or emotional baggage, or motherless kids. Her eyes caught mine, and I was arrested by the emotion in them.
“I’m trying not to,” I told her, but I knew it wasn’t true. I needed to make a change, and her words only confirmed it.
“Try harder,” she said quietly. “I rarely saw my father growing up, and I think he regrets now that we aren’t close. All the nice houses and fancy schools in the world can’t make up for time with the one person who they love the most.”
Then, just like that, she gave me a warm smile, and turned away, heading toward the laughter coming from the kitchen, leaving me stunned and awed in her wake. No one spoke to me like that. No one at work, or in my person life either. No one except her. I didn’t want it any other way.
