My body buzzes with excitement as I make my way back to my room. I can't believe I just did that. I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my life. I can feel the wetness between my legs making my panties stick to me. I need to cum. Bad.
I walk into my room and slide my white cotton panties down my legs. I toss them on the floor and grab a pillow off the bed.
Always having to share a room with other girls, you had to learn to be quiet when you masturbated; it was something I quickly mastered. Right now I feel like it won't take much to get me there. Never in my life had a man looked at me like Bruce just did, and never had I experienced such emotion. It was intoxicating. I felt alive.
Looking around the room, I search for the perfect spot. When I see the armchair in the corner, I know it will work best for what I have in mind. Placing the pillow over the arm of the chair, I straddle it. It gives me what I need, firmness for pressure, but a soft surface for comfort. Just like I always imagined a cock would be.
Spreading my legs wider, I start to move my hips. I close my eyes and fight past the shame I feel from the face I see in my mind. Normally my masturbation fantasies are of faceless men: heroes plucked out of my latest romance novel. This time there's a face. Bruce, my step-dad. In my mind, everything about him is hard, from his eyes to the set of his jaw. I picture him giving me the same heated look he gave me in the kitchen.
Rubbing my pussy against the pillow, I pretend it's his lap I'm straddling instead of the arm of the chair. I imagine rubbing my clit against his hard-on and using him for my pleasure while he sits completely still, fighting not to touch me. Pressing myself further into the pillow, I shudder at the shock of desire that shoots up my spine. He'd be so powerless to his desires, he'd suddenly lift me from his lap, slam me down onto his desk, and put his face between my legs. He'd need to taste me. He'd use his tongue and fingers to prepare my tight pussy for his cock. He'd be so worried about hurting me, because I meant everything to him. He'd do it for hours, just worshipping, not caring about anything else in the world. Only I mattered, and I was his everything.
Every move of my hips sends streaks of pleasure through my body. My skin tingles as I think of all the things Bruce would do to my body. I move faster, pressing down harder as the images start to flash through my mind one after another until the orgasm breaks through.
I shudder as pulses run through my body, leaving me shaky and weak. My climax hits me hard and it's all I can do to hold myself up as I ride out the waves of pleasure.
Rolling over, I collapse into the chair, letting the pillow hit the floor. I look down and see the wet spot my cum has left behind. God, if I came like that just thinking about Bruce, what would the reality be like?
I think back to the woman from last night, the same one he's having lunch with. Did he make her cum? Would he take her on his desk at work like I just imagined? I bet she's more experienced than I could ever be. She could handle a man like Bruce. I've never so much as kissed someone. I didn't even get an affectionate kiss from my mother, but I bet Bruce kissed her.
I feel the sting of tears and I close my eyes to fight them back.
It was only hours ago I was trying to summon tears, and now I can barely stop them. No, this isn't the emotion I want now. I want what I had in the kitchen—the thrill of being wanted, an unfamiliar but exciting feeling. But how could I lust after the man my mother married? She may have loved him, but I'm skeptical she had that ability. It's shameful, but I can't seem to stop myself from lusting after Bruce.
Mentally shaking myself, I force all thoughts of him from my head.
I pull out one of my suitcases and find a baby blue sundress. I slide it over my head, slip on some simple, white lace flats, and go to the bathroom to wash my face. I brush my teeth, put my hair in a quick braid, and look at myself in the mirror. I debate putting on a little bit of makeup, but my face is still flushed, and I don't know why I need to bother.
Heading out of my room, I pause outside the room Bruce said was my mother's. It still seems so odd they didn't share a room. Pushing open the door, I'm shocked and rooted in place.
Suddenly, a smile splits my face when I recognize Lily dusting the dresser.
"Lily!" I squeal, running towards her and wrapping her in a hug.
"Oh my, Sophie! Look how big you've gotten! All grown up now," she exclaims, and I can't help but squeeze her tighter.
Pulling back, I look up at her. She looks the same, but with a few lines on her face and some streaks of gray in her rich, chocolate brown hair. "What are you doing here?" I ask. I haven't seen Lily for years, and didn't know if she still worked for my mother. She'd worked for my mother for as long as I could remember. I'm almost ashamed that I hadn't asked about her.
"I've never stopped working for your mother, and well, now Mr. Archer." At the mention of my mother she pulls me into a hug again "I'm so sorry, Sophie, it was all so sudden."
"I'm fine really." I try to reassure her.
"Let's go into the kitchen, we'll have coffee, and talk."
Following her, I sit down at the breakfast bar and watch her shuffle around the kitchen. It's clear she knows where everything is.
"You kept working for my mother after she got married?" I ask, fishing for answers. I'm curious about my mother and Bruce. They don't seem like a fit, but when I really thought about it, I don't think I could picture my mother with anyone. She didn't care for affection or seem like she would ever play with the idea of marriage. I'm not sure how I came to be, and the topic of my father was never brought up.
"If you call it that," her reply perks my attention, and I can tell by the look she shoots me she caught my reaction. "They were married on paper only, it was for work."
"Shocking," I say, letting the sarcasm bleed through my words. Everything was for work, but I can't help but feel the relief that follows.
Lily runs her finger around the top of her coffee mug, studying me as if debating what to say.
"Do you miss her?" she asks, a slight tone of concern in her voice.
Her question makes me pause. Do I miss her? "I…well…can someone miss something they never had?" That thought has been rolling around in my head since I found out about her heart attack and sudden death. The more the days passed, the more I was beginning to think I didn't miss her, I missed the idea of her and what we could've had. It was in the plan I'd mapped out after college, to finally have my family, and to make her love me. But it was all in my head, this dream that things would change. In reality I had to admit that it probably wouldn't have made a difference.
"She loved you, you know," Lily says, as if she plucked the thoughts from my head.
"No, I don't know." My response is clipped and harsh, but I don't care. My feelings for my mother are coiled in a giant knot that I can't untangle. Anger, longing, and sadness are snarled together and I can't tell one from the other.
"That's fair." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "Maybe I said it wrong. She loved you the only way she knew how."
"I don't know what that means and to be honest I'm just not sure I care." I can feel myself getting angry, the hurt rising up inside me. "Do you know what it's like to have to stay in your dorm alone because you have no one to go home to for the Holidays? Or what it's like when no one shows up to see you while you're in a foreign country by yourself?"
"No, sweetheart, I don't" The soft tone of her voice cools my anger. I'm directing it at the wrong person, but there's no one left to take it out on. "Your mom wasn't a great mother, I know that, and I'm sure she knew it. I think it's why she sent you abroad. She thought it was for the best, and I know this doesn't make it excusable, but it's the same way she grew up with your grandfather. It's just how they were; they kept their emotions to themselves and their priority was work. But you, you don't have to be that way. You can start a new way of life if you want."
The reality of her words hits me like a punch to the stomach. That's essentially where I was headed in life. I wanted to come back to the States, and show my mom I could make her proud. Get her attention by becoming a lawyer like her. Is that what she'd been doing with her father? I was setting myself up to walk down the same miserable path. I'd probably end up with a heart attack the same as them.
I don't want to be alone anymore.
"You don't have to be," she whispers, making me realize I said the last part out loud. She's right. I'm eighteen, I'm done with school, and the canvas is blank for me. I can do anything I want. At the thought, Bruce flashes in my mind, and all the dirty things I thought about him doing to me. I bite my lip, trying to calm the heat I feel rushing to my face.
"So, Bruce and my mom?" I let the question hang, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"No, he's a workaholic like she was. Only when he's not at work, he's in his home office. I think they got married because of your grandfather. They both made partner before the ink dried on the marriage license."
I want to pry for more information, but I don't want to be too obvious. Before I can ask my next question, the elevator dings, and a handsome man in his late twenties strolls into the entryway. He looks like he walked out of a magazine. Damn, are people just made that way around here or something?
"Oh, my apologies, ladies, I didn't know anyone was here. Mr. Archer's paralegal sent me to pick up a brief he left behind. He needs it for a meeting today."
"Hi, Jacob," Lily says in a familiar tone. This must not be the first time he's been here.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Lily. Don't mind me I'll be out of your hair in just a second. Sorry to disturb you."
Lily nods her head at him and he looks over at me and smiles, before walking down the hall. I watch him retreat, following him with my eyes as he goes.
"He's handsome," Lily whispers behind me, catching me eyeing him. She has the wrong idea. He's handsome, but he also knows where Bruce works.
You don't have to be. Lily's words play back in my head.
No, I don't have to be alone anymore. I'm tired of sitting around and waiting to get what I want. I'm going for it. Glancing over at the clock, I see it's eleven already. Maybe Bruce hasn't left for his lunch date yet. Maybe I can ruin those plans.
When Jacob comes back down the hall, I don't waste any time.
"Are you going to take that to Bruce?" I ask, nodding at the folder in his hand.
"Yeah, you're Sophie, Debra's daughter, aren't you?" I just nod my response. "I'm Jacob, a junior associate at the firm," he says, offering me his hand.
"Can I catch a ride with you, Jacob?" He eyes me up and down, his hand still locked in mine, and I suddenly remember I didn't put anything on under my dress.
"I'll take you anywhere you like, Sophie." His tone implies he'd do more than take me to Bruce's office.
"That would be great. Just let me grab my purse." I say before dashing down the hall to my room. I grab my purse off the dresser, and notice my panties and the pillow still lying on the floor. I grab the underwear and put them into my purse, and then pick up the pillow. Part of it is still damp from where I came, and I can smell myself on it. Something dark and exciting comes over me, and I have an idea. I know just the place for this, and it's not my bed.