Sunday is a special day for a divorced dad with shared custody of his daughter. From the moment you wake up, you can hear the spring creaking under the tension and the latch just barely holding on to it, and you can tell it's about to be overpowered and click open. One week, I say goodbye to Chloe. One week, I welcome her back. There's no way of getting used to it.
I am still in bed, and I'm mentally preparing for what's ahead.
There's a lot to do today, and there will be a lot to do this week.
I need to mop up the house a little, not that it's in as bas a state as it used to be; I need to do some washing so that Chloe's bedsheets are clean and her school clothes are ready for the week; I need to do the groceries; I need to pick up some books from the library to read with her before bedtime; I need to think up meals, school lunches and dinners, and fun activities.
I need to switch from the constant, nagging grief that fills me when Chloe is away to the responsibility of being a dad.
But this week I have to think about something new: the realisation that, one not so distant day, I will have to introduce Alice to Chloe fills me with excitement. This is what I want: a partner who cares for me, and someone Chloe can confide into. I have a second chance to build my life, knowing what I did wrong the first time around.
I am half-way through breakfast when someone's at the door.
'Yes?'
Cynthia's face stares at me from the screen.
I was counting on seeing her, and ignoring her, at school. I don't know why I feel so resentful towards her. Every exchange we had was… just that: an exchange.
The dynamic was well understood. Every moment was fully consensual. And yet, I feel like she had the upper hand all the time. Maybe, I was too fragile at the time. But no: that's not it… She has made me more fragile. She has turned me into an appliance for her pleasure. I willingly sold myself to her not realising what that would do to me. I could pretend to be in on it with her, but really, I transformed myself in what she wanted me to become, and I have not been able to change back. That was until Alice.
I consider not answering, but what will that change? Cynthia will be on the school yard every day. I will be forced to see her, and I will be forced, at some point, to tell her it's over: I am done with whatever we've been playing at. She can find another pet to play with.
I buzz her in.
As she's climbing the stairs, I wonder how best to arrange myself: should I go back to my breakfast; should I be standing, arms folded and legs slightly apart; should I be watching TV? I just need her to know she's in my house, and that she is not going to be in it for long.
Cynthia walks in.
I choose to actually open the door, to welcome her in. The worst of all the options I had in mind. It seems I have a hard time to separate myself from the picture of the eager sex partner she has reduced me to.
Musk invades the room.
'Morning,' she says.
Alice is wearing a loose acid-green dress, short at the knee. Her figure is in full display. The cleavage is generous, and the tight belt accentuates the swinging hips. Her ankles are wrapped in thin leather strips that are woven into a thin sole and a high heel.
She lets the door close behind her.
'Here again…' she says. 'I just woke up with this tickling sensation… down here…' she says running her index down her stomach and over her crotch.
'You should see a doctor,' I say sharply.
'I'm happy to be examined, you know.'
She's close. I can smell the perfume on her body, the morning coffee in her breath.
Cynthia raises her hand and rests its painted fingers on my shirt.
I clasp her wrist.
'Cynthia, we need to talk.'
'Later. First, you should probe me, doctor,' she says.
I shake my head.
'No, first we talk. Then, you fill your needs somewhere else.'
She raises an eyebrow. She's wondering if I'm playing with her, or if she's really not going to get fucked this morning.
'Yes?'
Her tone is the tone of the lady of the house wondering why the maid is asking for a day of leave.
'I've met someone,' I say.
She stares at me, the condescending smile not leaving her painted lips.
'Well, what does it have to do with us?'
I'm startled:
'It has everything to do with us!'
'I have Tim, but that doesn't mean…'
'But Alice is not Tim, and I'm not you. This is serious.'
She sighs:
'This is serious... I remember hearing that. I said that too, you know. In the end, we all come back to this. We're all bored with the sameness.'
'Maybe, but I'm happy to give it a try.'
Cynthia ponders the situation. She walks around the apartment in silence, looking at the objects on the shelves, the sofa, the floor.
'It was fun you know,' she says.
'Yes, it was,' I say, almost without fully believing it.
Cynthia then, still walking casually like a lioness behind the bars, says:
'Alice, Alice… Little redhead at the school?'
I say nothing.
'I thought you could do better…' she continues.
I get quite angry at this. I want to defend Alice and myself, but I say nothing. I don't want to give her any reason to escalate her offensive.
'This woman, she doesn't seem… understanding… like me. I doubt she would like to try the things you and I have been doing. Would you be happy with that?'
I shake my head again. What am I supposed to say?
'Honestly, I don't care. I don't need to…'
'… Do everything you really want to a woman?' she suggests, laughingly.
'I don't need to do everything… with a woman… to be happy.'
I am now furious with her, with her probing into my psyche, with her wondering about what Alice likes and dislikes to have done to her in bed.
'The thing is…' she begins. She's now closer to me and studies me carefully. What tactic should I use now, she asks herself? 'The thing is that the school is such a small world. You know, rumours spread fast. I think you've learnt it yourself already.'
I turn my head quickly to look at her.
'You may learn to live without a good fuck, but I am sure this woman would not like to know some of the things we've been doing while you've been courting her.'
'Listen to me…' I say, but I choke.
Cynthia is now standing behind me, whispering to my ear.
I can feel her large bosom against my back. My heart is pounding from rage and… something else. I know what I can do to this woman.
'You see, she doesn't need to know,' she says.
'We can't do this.'
Cynthia wraps her arm around my chest and runs her hand down, along the line of the buttons, towards the belt.
'I won't tell her,' she whispers to my ear.
'Please, don't make me.'
It's blackmail. This is what it is. I can't let Cynthia ruin my only chance at happiness.
'I told you: I have a little tickling sensation this morning… I know you know what to do to make it go away.'
Why does she make my heart race like this? I now hate her so much. I despise for what she's wanting me to do, and for the way she sees me. But I also desire her intensely. The warmth of her breasts against my back, the musky perfume she exudes, the feeling of her hand caressing my stomach make me hold my breath. I want her to continue and yet I fear where this might lead.
'It's the last time,' I say, relenting.
'The last time.' Cynthia undoes my belt. 'Now, let me get on with this.'
Her hand slides into my pants. She feels me. I'm already hard. She doesn't say anything, but I know what she's thinking. Cynthia knows that I want her and that any rational explanation I give her can't compete with the hard-on she gives me just by coming near me.
'Take them off,' she whispers.
I drop my pants.
Cynthia puts her body firmly against my back. I can feel the pressure of her tits, her stomach against my lower back, her thighs against my legs. She puts her left hand on my chest to steady me, and with the other she begins to masturbate me.
'Cynthia… Why are you doing this?' I say, but any objection I had evaporates quickly. I park any other consideration to the side. I cannot resist to her touch.
She doesn't need to answer. Her fingers are wrapped around my dick and are moving back and forth.
'The neighbours can see us…' she whispers.
I stare at the row of windows from the other building through the glass.
I turn my head around around, but I feel her hand pushing against my chest stopping me from moving further. I'm angry at being made a fool of.
'Fuck you!' I say.
She smiles:
'See how hard I make you?'
She keeps jerking me off.
She unwraps her fingers and begins to unbuckle her belt.
'Lie down for me, please.'
I obey.
I am now on the floor, staring at Cynthia, upside down. She's naked. I look at her heavy breasts with the large areolas, her dark bush, her shapely thigs.
She walks up to me. She's standing behind me. She positions her feet next to my ears and lowers herself.
I give her pussy a lick.
'Not today,' she says and tilts her pelvis so to offer me her anus.
I grab her large buttocks and, filled with hate for myself, I pull her down. My tongue is on her asshole. I lick hard and thoroughly.
I gather she's touching herself as I do this, while, with her free hand, she reaches forward and resumes touching me.
'That's it. Isn't it nice? Don't you like licking my big booty? Go in!'
I spread her cheeks better, so that her anus gapes a little. I stick my tongue inside and go as far as I can.
'Good boy,' she says.
I know what she wants. She wants me to roll her over, to squeeze her tits, to finger her pussy. She wants me to grab her and fuck her hard. She wants to be slapped and grabbed.
An old joke comes to mind. A masochist tells a sadist: 'Hit me!' The sadist says: 'No.'
So, here I am, blackmailed, her booty on my face, an undeniable hard-on. But out there is Alice. More than that: out there is my dignity.
I will do what she tells me. She will come, and that will be the end of it.
Cyn gives my dick a little yank.
Fuck!
I will not give her the satisfaction of a slap or anything that resembles an emotion. She wants me to be a mindless tool, then that's what I will be.
She laughs and gives my dick another yank.
I groan.
'Am I being too rough?' she asks. 'Poor baby…' she continues mockingly.
Then, I feel her lips around my dick. Her hair is on my thighs. She's sucking me. She's thorough; she's deep; she's warm.
I can't help it. My hips begin to swing. Part of me just want to penetrate her.
'Ah!' she says satisfied. 'Isn't it better when we help each other?'
Then, Cynthia stands up and sits on my dick, guiding it into her pussy with her hand.
I can only see her back. She's not even looking at me: I'm just a warm dildo to her. As far as I can tell, she's staring at the windows on the other building.
She moves up and down.
I watch as waves shake her big ass every time she comes down and hits the flesh of my thighs.
'Fuck me good!' she moans.
She holds her buttocks as she goes up and down. She puts her index and middle finger up her ass. She knows I'm watching.
'That's it. Let's put this nice cock to good use.'
She now rides me, moving back and forth. The movements are decisive, then she gives two short pushes and her shoulders shivers as if the air got too cold, all of a sudden.
Then, she comes with a muted moan:
'Mmmh!'
She takes my dick out of her pussy and sits on my lower stomach. Still facing the other way, she masturbates me confidently.
'Come on, big boy. Come for me!'
She goes faster and stronger until I ejaculate with a loud growl.
'Urgh!'
'This is better. Don't you feel better?'
Cynthia is now getting dressed. She stares down at me, naked, lying on the floor. She's like a spoilt girl who's played with a new toy. Now, the toy is half broken, and she's not sure if she still likes it.
She puts on her bra and weighs her tits for me to admire. She puts on her dress, then the belt.
'I have hidden my panties somewhere in this room…' she says in a teasing tone. 'You'd better find them before Alice comes around and finds them.'
I get up and get dressed.
*
I lie awake that night. I'm torn between guilt and confusion: what have I done? But why did I like doing it so much?
Everything is wrong. People are wrong, and I am wrong. My whole nature is corrupt, and I doubt I am made to have nice things that are actually good for me.
When I finally fall asleep, I dream of fingers crawling everywhere, reaching inside of me. I see large breasts that envelop me. They suffocate me. I can't breathe, but they tell me to lick, lick again, lick deeper. I feel the hair of somebody's pussy tickling the top of my dick, then I feel the warm flesh coming down to engulf me. A pipe must have burst because water splashes everywhere. I hear moaning, louder and louder.
'Shhh!' I say.
But the answer is only an echo of laughter.
'Watch out. We're watching. She's watching. Everyone's watching.'
I am squashed between bodies; I feel the friction of their skin against mine. I'm stuck. They grab me and pull me in every direction.
'I can't come,' I yell, 'I'm stuck!'
Then, the scene freezes. Everything is now clear: there are naked bodies on the floor, and everyone is saying: 'It's his fault.' But I didn't know how I got here. So, I look around to explain myself. Alice is there too.
I want to hide, but there's nowhere to hide.
'I've seen it all,' she says.
'It's not my fault.'
The women laugh again.
'He asked us to. He liked it. Look!'
I am naked. My dick is up. I try to cover myself.
'I can't help it,' I say.
But Alice just stares at me.
'I've seen it all,' she repeats.
I feel cold and I want to scream. Then I wake up.
Walking Chloe to school, I still feel naked and exposed. I believe everybody is watching me differently.
'Will you and mum ever go back together?' Chloe asks.
It's the first time she brings up the topic.
'Oh, sweetie, I say. I don't think so.'
She is not upset. She's just thinking.
'But why? Don't you want to be with mum?' she asks.
'It's complicated…' I say.
I want to say more. If she's finally ready to discuss this, I want to explain the whole situation to her. I need to explain to Chloe why things didn't work out with Sarah, and how that made me feel. I need to ask her how she's feeling too. I wonder if this is the best time to explain to Chloe that I'm also seeing someone else.
But the bell is ringing.
'It's time to go.' I give her a hug, and I hold her for an extra moment. 'I promise you we can talk about it tonight, ok?'
'Yeah…' she answers without sounding too sure.
'Later. I promise.'
She runs away to join her classmates.
I look around, hoping to see Alice.
She's normally here, and I'm hoping to walk her to her bus, maybe set up a playdate for the kids, maybe even a dinner, or find any other excuse to catch up.
Kids, teachers, parents, more kids…
Then, I see her familiar red hair, the long skirt, the cardigan despite the warm weather. I also see Cynthia. I see Yvonne. And I see Rachel.
They're gathered in a little knot and are talking quietly, but animatedly.
I freeze. Should I go? Should I disappear as quickly as I can?
All the women are talking in turn. I can see Cynthia and Yvonne and Rachel, laughing, winking, opening their mouths, stretching their lips in a smile. But I cannot see Alice's face, only the back of her head.
Maybe it's not her after all… But I know it is her. I am also sure that Alice and these three women have not spoken before. They are not from the same social circles and would never cross path: Cynthia and her gang are rich, self-assured, demanding. The whole school bows before them. Even teachers seem deferential when they talk to them. Alice, on the other hand, is quiet and solitary. Like me, she's not here to extend her influence or prove her power: she's just here because she's a parent of one of the students.
'Oh, look: he's here!' Yvonne says, bubbly as usual.
I see Cynthia's face expand in a wide, cruel smile.
Rachel is looking at me as well. Her icy eyes almost seem not to recognise me. They just stare with mild curiosity.
Finally, Alice turns. Her face portrays Dignity. She purses her lips for a moment, then turn towards the three women.
I'm walking quickly towards the group, and I hear her say: 'Thank you.'
Alice storms off.
The ladies cackle as I walk past them.
'Ouch!'
'Busted!'
I don't even look at them, but I feel their presence as I pass by them. I feel it on my skin, like heat radiating from a wall on a summer's day.
I don't know what I'm going to say to Alice. I just need to talk to her. I need to explain myself.
'Wait!' I say.
Alice doesn't stop.
Should I give her space? Is it better if she has time to cool down, or would that make the wound fester beyond my ability to heal it?
'Wait!'