Filed to story: The Husband Sitter by Jessa Kane
Mr. Red
It’s a much different experience staying with the Blues. There is no tension the next morning when I wake up and venture from guest room to kitchen. No, there are banana walnut pancakes, a variety of syrup choices and tea. I sit at the kitchen table giggling at Mr. Blue’s locker room stories and Mrs. Blue’s tales from meditation class. It reminds me of being on the compound, except I’m not identified as merely someone’s daughter here. I’m an adult. My own person.
I help Mrs. Blue clean the dishes and watch as she slow dances with Mr. Blue around the kitchen table, marrying the soap suds on their hands. There was happiness in this house yesterday, but today there is…abandon. They’ve done something risky bringing a third person into their sexual life, and I’m relieved to bear witness to it paying off.
I’m extremely attracted to Mr. Blue—in a different way than I’m attracted to Mr. Black. One man is warm and steady while the other is volatile as the ocean. But I love taking them into my body. I love that it is having a positive effect on their marriages and leaving them freer to express themselves. For example, Mr. Blue’s confidence could not be more rock solid as he dips his wife and lays a smack on her butt, walking toward me with a chuckle.
My fingers curl into my palm with the need to touch his big chest, but I suppress it and remain satisfied. I know where I want to stand with these families who have brought me into their homes and it revolves around trust. I will never overstep.
Mr. Blue lays a kiss on my forehead, his expression turning serious. “You’re going to Mr. and Mrs. Red’s house this afternoon.”
“Yes.” I smile. “I’m…curious about them. I know almost nothing about them.”
“You’ll be safe, Astrid. You can trust us on that,” Mrs. Blue says, trading a glance with her husband, and I sense instability in their energy. “But Mr. Red…he’s a complicated man. Just remember you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
I still have those words ringing in my ears an hour later when the limousine drops me off in front of the Red residence. It is by far the largest, most ornate home of all. Two Rolls Royces sit parked in the multi-car garage, a golf course spreads out on either side and around back. There is a chilly air to the home that the other two didn’t have. My stomach churns along with the pebbles beneath my feet as I approach the front door, suitcase in hand.
The chimes go off inside when I ring the bell and a maid answers, taking my measure with a sweep of her cool eyes. “This way, if you please. Mrs. Red is expecting you in the salon.”
I swallow hard and follow the stoic woman through a room decorated in multiple shades of grey. There isn’t a single sound in the house, apart from the muffled ticking of a clock. Moments later, when I enter the salon, Mrs. Red rises from a chaise lounge, tucking blonde hair behind her ear. “Astrid.” She clears the rust from her voice. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling self-conscious. Especially when the maid takes my luggage and I have no idea what to do with my hands. “You have a lovely home.”
Mrs. Red nods. “Won’t you sit down? We have a lot to discuss.” I cross the expensive rug and take a seat across from Mrs. Red on a velvet settee. “Well, how has the arrangement been treating you so far?”
“Very well,” I say, crossing my ankles to match her. “Mrs. Red, I hope I’m not being too forward. But…is there a reason you’re so nervous?”
Her smile remains frozen in place. “How can you tell?”
“It’s something I can feel. I felt it the first time we met, too.”
Apart from a crease between her arched brows, she shows no reaction to that. “Leave us, please,” she directs at the maid, before returning her attention to me. “I’m afraid our situation is little different than the others. It’s less about wanting to spice up a marriage or satisfy a man in his prime…and more about catering to a…taste. Yes, I suppose you could call it a taste.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling to encourage her. “Mr. Red is the one with the…taste?”
“Yes,” she heaves on a breath, her fingers beginning to fidget.
It’s too much for me to bear—her nerves and my increasing ones. I go down on my knees and walk toward Mrs. Red. Ignoring her increased alarm, I pull some calm from down deep inside me and lay a hand on her forearm, letting it drift out of me and into her. Her eyes soften almost immediately, the rise and fall of her chest slowing to a regular pace. “Oh my. You’re better than a Xanax.”
I chuckle even though I have no idea what that is. “I was raised not to be judgmental, Mrs. Red. You can tell me anything you want.”
Mrs. Red rolls her lips inward and sighs. “A few weeks ago, I went into Mr. Red’s home office—” With an eye roll, she breaks off. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Mr. Red is a United States congressman, Astrid. He’s run uncontested for several terms, and well, he’s a very prominent politician.” She waves at the fireplace across the room where I see framed commendations and photos, although I’m too far away to notice the finer details. “You must be squeaky clean to remain in such a prestigious office for so long and…we are. He is. It’s just that I went into his office and found a website open on his computer…”
“What kind of website?”
“Pornography,” she breathes, her knee beginning to bounce. “It was the nature of the videos that surprised me so much. Stepfather punishes stepdaughter. Stepdaughter seduces stepfather. Stepdaddy acts naughty when wife goes to the store…” She trails off with a headshake. “I checked the history and he’d watched hundreds with similar titles. He’d been watching them for a very long time.”
“So he…” A little ripple of heat between my thighs catches me off-guard. I know nothing of this kind of taste, as Mrs. Red puts it. Stepfathers aren’t supposed to be intimate with their stepdaughters. That’s not something that needs to be explained. That type of relationship would be wrong. So why is there a melting sensation in my middle? “So Mr. Red fantasizes about this. Do you have children or stepchildren?”
“No,” she blurts. “God, no.”
“And what is it you want from me?”
She regards me for a moment. “We have a good sex life for a couple that has been married as long as we have. I love him. He loves me. But this?” Her shoulders sag. “It’s a turn off for me. I can’t play along and call him Daddy—and I know, because I tried. It was a miserable failure.”
“Daddy,” I repeat, the word rolling off my tongue like summer lemonade. “That’s what he likes to be called.”
“Yes. That’s the main root of it, to be perfectly frank. He wants to be Daddy.” Her worry is obvious. “Is that a deal breaker for you?”
“No.” No, I think…it might be the opposite, but I have to explore the bubble of excitement in my blood later. Right now, Mrs. Red needs to be reassured. “What do you want from me tonight?”
She’s quiet for several beats. “We can’t have him on these questionable porn sites. Information is hacked far too easily these days. I’ve already had a full wipe done on his computer. But now the satisfaction of his taste needs to come from somewhere. If he’s going to slake these urges, it needs to happen in the privacy of our own home where he can’t harm his career.” A light smile transforms her face. “I’ve made peace with his needs and I’m looking forward to knowing he’s being fulfilled, Astrid. I want you to know I’m okay with this.”
“Okay with what?” I whisper.
“My husband being your Daddy for the night.”
That string of words almost knocks me backwards. A zip of eagerness races over my skin, but I’m still a touch unsettled. “Mrs. Black received peace of mind and, I think, the control she needs in her marriage. Mrs. Blue fulfilled a fantasy. That’s why I felt permitted to be with their husbands. It was only just for the men. What would you get out of tonight, Mrs. Red? There needs to be something, or I don’t think I’ll feel right about it.”
Her face warms. “I really do like you, Astrid.” She sweeps the room in a glance. “I want to protect my comfortable life. It might sound shallow, but I like my friends, my possessions, the ease I’ve become accustomed to. I will do anything necessary to prevent myself from losing what I’ve built. And yes, I did build it. I might come across as the frivolous wife, but I’m equally responsible for getting us here. I plan to keep us here, too.” A beat passes. “If I’m being honest, I’m taking a little pleasure in making this arrangement. It’s strategic and proactive and I’m looking forward to tomorrow when I’m not waiting for a shoe to drop.”
The low hum of relaxation she projects with that final admission satisfies me that she’s telling the truth. With that final piece of the puzzle fitted into place, I let myself sink into the adventure ahead. This one might excite me most of all.
CHAPTER 5
I wait in the pool house for evening to fall. Well, pool house is what Mrs. Red calls the bright, airy duplex overlooking the golf course on one side, an Olympic-sized swimming pool on the other. There are several rooms to choose from and I end up crawling into a circular bed positively covered in throw pillows of every color. After a brief nap, I shower and dress in the clothing Mrs. Red provided, smoothing lotion over every inch of my body.
In doing so, I notice how sexual I feel. Every touch is sensual and meant to stimulate. I press my hips to the bathroom sink and massage lotion into my breasts, slowly grinding myself against the white porcelain. What will Mr. Red look like? Will he be surprised by my presence, or is he aware I’m coming? I like the unknown, though. I’ve surprised myself with my ability to adapt since leaving the compound and I’m beginning to think my mother was correct. It’s possible there is something unique about me that benefits others. I want it to be true so badly. After enhancing the relationships of the Blacks and Blues, I want this to be my calling.
I want them to be my calling.
With hope in my heart, I turn off the bathroom light and look myself over one final time in the full-length bedroom mirror. I’ve never worn shorts like this. Thin, tight. They’re more like underwear, leaving the underside of my butt cheeks showing, the seam riding up like a wedgie. They should be more uncomfortable, but the pressure on all my intimate parts makes me pulse all over. The crop top I’ve been given is loose and hangs from one shoulder, cutting off an inch below my breasts. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to wear a bra, but I leave it off at the last second, feeling daring. Feeling alive and needed.
The only lit up part of the house is the dining room and I cross the yard, entering through the back door, gasping at the size of the table. It could seat a hundred people. Mrs. Red stands at a gleaming sideboard on one end of the dimly lit room, uncorking a bottle of wine. Candles flicker as I walk toward her and she greets me with a nervous smile.
“Normally I wouldn’t be doing this myself, but I’ve given the staff a night off.” She pours wine into three glasses, one by one. “For obvious reasons.” I’m about to respond when a door closes in the distance, the walls of the house seeming to rumble. “The man of the house is home,” she says, taking a giant gulp of red liquid. “Here goes nothing.”
I’m unprepared for the gravity of Mr. Red. His aura invades the dining room before he does, vacillating between gold and orange. Intelligent, fierce, charismatic. And oh so handsome. Mr. Red is older than the other men by more than a few years, his whole head covered in thick, gray hair. He’s not a man who has let his body age, though. This is a man who spends hours keeping himself fit. Everything about his energy tells me what I need to know about his personality. He brooks no disrespect, commands a room…and I know his secret.
I am his secret now.
When Mr. Red sees me, he slows to a stop, impatient fingers pausing in the process of loosening his tie. Obviously he does not expect to find a scantily clad young woman in his home and thus, he can’t keep his reaction entirely schooled. Sharp eyes lose their edge and he makes a jagged sound. “Who is this?”
For all her nerves, Mrs. Red now seems almost aloof, casually sipping her wine. “This is Astrid, dear. She’s staying for dinner…and for the night.” Mrs. Red gives me a meaningful look. “No chef tonight, so I’m going to go check on dinner. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You two get acquainted.”
On the way out of the room, Mrs. Red stops and whispers into her husband’s ear. He shows no reaction to whatever she says, but his disbelief reaches me where I stand. As his wife vanishes into the kitchen, his shock gives way to desire. So much of it that I have to press my thighs together. I expect him to approach me, to touch me, but he doesn’t. No, he simply takes his seat at the head of the table, gesturing to the setting to his left. “Sit.”
“Yes,” I respond on autopilot, every cell in my body thrilling to that single, bitten off command. His fists rest on the table as I sway toward my seat and fall into it like a bored teenager, although I’m the furthest thing from bored. I’m alive.
Mrs. Red reenters the room carrying a covered pot. She sets it down in the middle of the table and ladles what appears to be pumpkin soup into our bowls. “I thought something light tonight would be just the thing,” she breezes, taking her seat. “Everybody dig in.”
I reach for my spoon and stop, crossing my arms over my bare midriff. “I’m not hungry.”
I feel, rather than see, Mr. Red’s jaw flex. “Eat your dinner, young lady.”
Wetness rushes between my thighs and I shift in my seat, trying to keep myself from reacting in earnest. “I said, I’m not hungry.”
Across the table, Mrs. Red takes a spoonful of soup, her expression one of fascination. As if she can’t believe how quickly and easily this is happening. I can’t really believe it, either. This role has somehow settled over me like a second skin.
“Do you need to be fed like a child?” Mr. Red snaps, unbuttoning one of his sleeves and rolling it up to his elbow. “So be it. Get over here now.”
My legs are shaking so violently, I almost can’t stand up, but my eagerness to find out what’s coming forces me up and around the table. I stop in front of Mr. Red with an eye roll and give him my back. Without facing him, I know his eyes are blazing a hot path up my thighs and barely covered bottom. I bite back a whimper when he grips my hips and jerks me down into his lap.
I’m still reeling over the rampant erection now wedged between the cheeks of my backside when Mr. Red scoots us closer to the table. “Open your spoiled little mouth,” he whispers in my ear. “Or later tonight when everyone is sleeping, I’ll make you open it for a lot more than soup.”
Underneath the table, Mr. Red’s thighs open wide, wider, until mine are draped over his muscular legs, leaving my core exposed. I send him a glare over my shoulder and feel his erection swell larger. “Fine.”
His left hand takes hold of my jaw, applying pressure until my mouth pops open. Before I know what’s happening, he guides a spoonful of soup between my lips. “Swallow,” he orders gruffly into my hair. When I comply, he brings me another bite. “Again.”
Briefly, I let my attention drift to Mrs. Red and find her looking oblivious, concerned only with her meal. As if she has no idea what’s happening beneath the table. Or that I’m sitting in such a provocative position, her husband’s rod of hard flesh pulsing in the split of my backside. And now he’s setting the spoon down, moving his left hand beneath the table and cupping my sex.
“Shhh,” he breathes into my hair. “Daddy had a hard day at work.”
Two thick finger pads find my clit through the thin material of my shorts and begin circling it slowly. In seconds, I’m rattling the bars of a mental cage, trying not to scream and work my bottom on Mr. Red’s lap…when he casually spoons a bite of soup into his mouth with his right hand. As if what’s happening beneath the table is a secret only we know about. The wrongness of it somehow revs my need higher, hotter and my vision grows hazy, lust climbing my throat like ivy.
I can’t have an orgasm like this, can I?
Right here at the table?
Mr. Red shows no signs of relenting. No, his fingers move faster and faster until I have no control over my own hips. I’m rubbing my bottom side to side and accepting his low grunts like a beggar gobbling up breadcrumbs. It’s going to happen. I’m going to climax right here on his lap while he eats soup. Just as I’m about to capsize under the weight of my pleasure, Mr. Red stops touching me, resting his left hand on my thigh and squeezing firmly.
“Next time, do as you’re told without the attitude, young lady,” he enunciates as I try not to be obvious that I’m about to hyperventilate. Or cry. Or both. “I don’t tolerate disrespect under my roof. Now tell your mother thank you for dinner and go wait in your room. We’re going to have one of our talks tonight.”
Moments later, I feel like I’m trapped in a dream as I stumble blindly across the backyard. I’m on fire. Every inch of my skin is branded and hot and needy. I’m so needy for Mr. Red. My nipples are in spikes and I can’t stand the feeling of material chafing them, so I strip the shirt off as soon as I’m in the pool house. I stomp like a punished teenager to my room and slam the door shut, screaming through clenched teeth. I want to touch myself, but I don’t. I don’t dare. Somehow I know I’ll be in even worse agony if I take away this terrible edge he’s given me.
I’m lying on my side on the bed, still panting with thwarted need, when the bedroom door opens and closes. Stubbornly, I refuse to turn around and Mr. Red sighs. “I’m not sure how your father disciplined you, young lady, but I’m the man in your life now. I’m your new father. I make the rules and it will make my life much easier if you learn to obey them.” His weight makes the bed dip and my stomach follows suit. “Don’t you want to make Daddy’s life easier?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. That word causes an uprising in my hormones.
“These shorts tell me the answer is yes.” His hand coasts over my bottom, squeezing and releasing my cheeks rhythmically. “These shorts tell me you want to be the solution to all of my problems at the end of a hard day. Isn’t that why you maneuver me into having our nightly talks?”
The mattress shifts and his body heat licks my back. I want him to roll me over and devour me, but I’m imbued with the stubbornness of the part I’m playing. A part that doesn’t feel like a part at all. It feels real.
“Very well, Astrid. If you’re not going to speak with me like a big girl, I’ll take what I need to relax and go back to the house.” Mr. Red’s weight leaves the bed. The lamp I turned on when I walked into the room is switched off, leaving nothing but the moonlight to illuminate the room. Behind me, I hear the faint sound of buttons being pulled through holes and a belt being unhooked, a zipper coming down. Anticipation makes me breathless and I’m wondering about Mr. Red’s next move when he snatches my ankle and yanks me to the edge of the bed. “Get over here, brat.” I whimper and start to struggle on instinct when my panties are ripped from my body. “All I want from my little princess is some appreciation when I get home. You’re going to show me some right now, goddammit.”
“I appreciate you,” I blurt, damp pressure forming behind my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have an attitude.”
Mr. Red tilts my chin up. “Why do you give me one?”
“I know it’s wrong to want you,” I whisper, reaching out to lower Mr. Red’s pants, followed by the band of his briefs. His erection bobs out, proud and thick and long. “I know it’s wrong to…hate sharing you.”
His jaw loosens and sags when I begin to stroke him with two hands, watching him contritely through my eyelashes. “There’s my good girl. I knew she was in there somewhere.” He taps my right cheek. “Open up and show Daddy how sorry you are about his hard day.”
I’m dying to taste Mr. Red that I don’t bother with licking or teasing. No, my blood hums with the knowledge of what he needs. He’s been waiting for this night for a long time. Thousands of fantasies have led to this. To me. So I devour him, grateful and enthusiastic, pulling on him with tight sucks and sliding him down my throat. Over and over, while he groans and fucks my mouth, hips cinching forward and back.
“That sweet, little mouth is a powerful thing, isn’t it, young lady? Pissing me off one minute and making me a god the next.” He threads his fingers through my hair, pressing and holding his manhood deep, deep, until I make a choking sound. “What a special treat it is for your Daddy, knowing it’s waiting for him every night in the pool house.” He pulls free of my mouth and strokes himself for me in a tight fist, leaving a drop of semen on the tip of my waiting tongue. “Mmmm. Good girl. We both know what my greatest treasure is, though. Daddy couldn’t keep his hands off it at dinner, could he?”
I’m so wet for Mr. Red that the insides of my thighs are slick. I’m fondling my own breasts, my sobs punctuating the air. “I wanted you to make me come in front of her, Daddy. Why didn’t you?”
At my first utterance of the title, Mr. Red seems to expand, his chest and shoulders gaining even more strength. His energy pulses. Pulses with a sense of homecoming. “I wanted to satisfy that little pussy, too…” He pulls me to my feet and kisses my mouth thoroughly, tonguing me until I run out of air. Slowly, he turns me around and pushes me facedown over the bed, leaving me balanced on my forearms, my bottom in the air. “I always want to satisfy you, little girl, but she’s starting to get suspicious. You and Daddy have been having too many talks lately.” He smacks his hard erection against my backside a few times. “I have to stop myself from coming home on lunch breaks just to have a stern talk with tight, little Astrid.”
“I’d be waiting for you, Daddy.”
Mr. Red plugs my entrance with the tip of his length, then sinks all the way in with a long, ragged groan. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”
I’m already vibrating with the approach of my climax. He’s filling every inch of me and I’m still keyed up from the way he touched me at dinner. One thrust and I’m going to erupt. His energy is so bold and debauched and wild, it’s heightening my experience, connecting us even more than I already feel we are. I turn my head to the right and moan at our reflection in the window. Old on young. A powerful man and his secret. “Am I tight enough for you, Daddy?”
A shudder moves through Mr. Red and he rears back, driving into me with a grunt. “Never felt anything like it. My God. I can barely get in and out.”
One more thrust and my walls clench, clench, tightening to the point of agony before release finds me. Finally. I work myself shamelessly on Mr. Red’s thick arousal, grinding my clit anywhere it can find friction, prolonging my orgasm. “Daddy. Daddy.”
“Son of a bitch,” he breathes, pressing his front to my back and fucking me in a frenzy. His testicles swing up and smack me repeatedly between the thighs, his breath rasping into the curve of my neck. “No one can ever know about this, young lady. No one can know I’m obsessed with your pretty, little cunt. Do you hear me? Daddy will give you everything you ever want if you just keep our secret. Especially from your mother.”
“I won’t tell,” I whimper, reaching back to spread my cheeks wide for Daddy to look at. “I just want to be your good girl forever.”
Mr. Red flattens me on the bed with a roar, slamming his manhood into me with great, punishing drives, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Making me scream into the mattress. And when he bears down and comes with a mighty shudder, I join him in my second climax. There’s no way to avoid it when such overwhelming completion wraps around him. It encompasses me. Makes me proud. This experience Mr. Red has wanted forever has finally happened and there’s no mistaking his awe.
Or his growing hunger to do it again. Soon.
I smile at him when he falls to his side on the bed, red faced and breathing heavily. Still playing the good girl, I curl my fists against his cheek and snuggle close. “You better get back soon, Daddy,” I whisper, kissing his mouth and letting my tongue mate gently with his. “We can’t get caught.”
A little while later, I’m sitting in the backyard under the stars when a light goes on upstairs. It’s the master bedroom. I watch drowsily as Mr. Red walks into the bedroom, greeted by Mrs. Red. They smile at one another and embrace for long minutes, an obviously cathartic moment taking place. Inside my chest, I feel my heart flutter and expand with knowledge.
The knowledge that I’ve found my purpose in Los Angeles.