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“It’s more than fun, trust me. It can get a little chaotic when dealing with children, but I like it. You’ll see,” he grins.
I wave off his warning, standing up to stretch.
“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle because I adore kids. Speaking of which, I better go ahead and get to sleep now so I don’t end up looking like an evil witch in the morning. I don’t want to scare off our customers,” I joke.
“No problem,” my ex-stepfather chuckles. “Go ahead and get ready for bed, sweetheart. I’ll wash up a few last things while you do.”
“Thanks,” I smile before turning to the living room. It’s always a little awkward during the evening because I sleep on the living room couch of Brody’s one-bedroom apartment, while he’s in the room itself. He offered to let me have his bedroom, but I insisted he stay put. After all, what kind of guest am I if I kick the host out of his own sleeping spot? Besides, the sofa is good enough for me because it’s about a thousand times more comfy than the stiff extra-long twin I occupy in the dorms.
I hum quietly to myself as I go through my things, trying to locate my PJs. Meanwhile, Brody moves around the kitchen, cleaning up and putting some last things in place. Then I dart into the bathroom, and shut the door before getting ready for bed. My jeans are off in a sec, as well as the ugly Christmas sweater that I insist on wearing every chance I get during the month of December. Of course, Brody thinks the pullover’s ridiculous but I can tell that he likes the reindeer with the pom-pom nose.
Smiling to myself, I pull on my sleep set, which isn’t more than a cropped tank top with spaghetti straps, and matching flimsy pink booty shorts. Despite it being the middle of winter, it gets hot in the apartment because it’s one of those living spaces where you can’t control the thermostat. The building turns on the heater in mid-December, and then the residents are left to suffer the effects of an over-active boiler. With an apartment on the third floor, let me tell you, it can gethotat night.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I open the door and step out, just as my ex-stepfather walks out of the kitchen. He pauses when he sees me, two harsh streaks appearing on those high cheekbones.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” I say in a cheery voice. “I’m all done.”
Brody stares at me for a few seconds longer, but it feels as if time slows to a crawl as those gorgeous blue eyes roam my body. As a stand there, trembling, they deepen to an almost-black as he stares at my tits, round and full beneath the thin cotton of the camisole. I bite my lip, waiting with bated breath, as my heart starts to race. Moisture pools between my thighs because maybe this is where Brody’s going to make a move. It would be so wrong, but I have to admit that I’d welcome it. I’d love to feel his hands cupping my curves, and that sensuous mouth sucking on a nipple. I’d love to see his black head buried between my thighs before he finally takes me with one vigorous thrust, making me cry out with pleasure.
But nothing like that happens. Instead, when he finally opens his mouth, he simply mutters, “Goodnight,” and then stalks away before shutting the door to his bedroom.
Deflated, I creep to the sofa, pulling the blanket over my curves before turning out the light. Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he say anything? I suppose I should be grateful that the man of the house has morals because I clearly don’t. But still, it would be so nice to finally acknowledge the attraction between us.
Frustrated, I turn on my side, then onto my back, and then onto my other side, all within the span of a minute. But I can’t seem to get comfortable. I’m just too restless, and I don’t feel sleepy at all because I want my stepdad, as awful as that sounds. Of course, technically, Brody’s not my stepdad anymore and hasn’t been for years, but I suppose it’s in how you phrase it.
Then again, I don’t know. I don’t know whether us being attracted to each other is wrong or right. All I know is that I’mdefinitelydrawn to the older man, and I have my suspicions that he feels the same way about me. After all, I’ve caught Brody staring at my figure for just a few seconds too long. I’ve seen how his jaw clenches as he takes in my bouncy tits, and how a harsh flush descends on his cheeks while watching my hips sway. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? But the problem is, how do I get the older man to act? After all, what I want is utterly taboo, but I also know it’ll be worth it.
2
BRODY
“When you said that you worked in a big department store, you weren’t lying!” the sweet girl gasps, grunting as she nearly drops one of my tripods. We’re both hauling huge loads of photography equipment through the mall, and it’s heavy. Even though they’re on dollies, still, these enormous black cases can get unwieldy, and I watch with amusement as Cleo almost loses control.
“Careful,” I say. “You want me to take that one?”
“No, no, I got it!” my pretty stepdaughter puffs. “Thank god the Santa station is on the first floor, although I have to admit this place is pretty be-awesomed,” she acknowledges, looking around.
I grin.
“Okay, does “be-awesomed” mean good or bad? I’m Generation X, so I’m totally clueless when it comes to urban slang.”
Cleo grins as we pass a huge twenty-foot Christmas tree bedecked with dazzling silver and gold ornaments.
“Be-awesomed just means something’s bedazzled in the most awesome way. It’s a combination of the two words, and yes, you really must be old,” she teases.
I grin.
“Hey, I never said I wasn’t,” is my growl. “But you’ve never been to a Valley Fair mall before?” I ask.
“Not one as big as this,” she says, looking around while taking in the luxurious decor. “This looks like the kind of mall that only rich people shop at.”
I nod in agreement because Valley Fairispretty fancy-looking. The tiled floor is shiny and sleek, and several massive Christmas trees are placed strategically about the open courtyard area. Of course, huge piles of shiny presents are heaped beneath the trees, and glittering wreaths hang in some of the window displays. As we walk further into the mall, we even pass a children’s Winter Wonderland playground complete with a merry-go-round and a mini Polar Express train. It’s definitely over-the-top.
“Well, I’ve heard that the shops have good deals around the holidays,” I chuckle. “But yeah, this is definitely a higher-end mall,” I acknowledge as we pass Bulgari, Louis Vuitton, and Moncler stores.
“Yeah, it’s pretty insane, right?” Cleo murmurs. “I can’t even imagine who shops here. We’ll have to take a peek once the mall opens.”
I grin because it’s only 7 a.m. We got here early to set-up and at the moment, the mall is mostly dim and quiet, although of course, some of the more ostentatious Christmas decorations practically glow in the grayish light.
