Chapter 13
Chris
When I came back from the ATM, Mrs. Claus was leaning over a seated Daphne, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, lingering too long on those silky strands and whispering into her ear. She’d brought several bottles of water and had Daphne giggling nervously and covering her mouth like a schoolgirl.
I stood in the doorway with my mouth agape. My brain shorted out.
Right. I could trust Daphne. Sure. No trouble at all. Her uncanny ability to fawn in the face of, well... anything, made trying to keep her safe and protected like trying to cushion a minefield.
Now Daphne was biting that plump lower lip. Fuck me. What did I ever do to deserve this torture, watching someone else flirt with my... nothing? She was my nothing. Not mine at all.
I checked my watch. I’d give us twenty minutes to scarf down our food, tip the nice lady, and get back on the road. My dick could deal with twenty minutes, as long as Valentine gave us a few minutes alone to eat in peace.
Twenty minutes later, Daphne and I had eaten our burgers, but Valentine was just getting started. I’d drunk both our beers and I’d been minding my business, keeping my eyes off the women and glued to the curtains for so long, I’d started to recognize faces in the stains of the purple velvet.
“The thing people don’t understand about sex work is that it’s not sex work.” Valentine said, grinding her ass into Daphne’s lap. “I mean it is, don’t get me wrong, but getting naked is the least of it. It’s therapy more than anything else. Men come here, my regulars especially, and get help in the work that I’m doing. I’m giving them somewhere they can see themselves the way they want to be seen. They don’t come here to get off or just to look at my boobs. They can do that on the internet for free. They aren’t here to come. It’s not even about being lonely.”
“What is it, then? What do they get out of this?”
“They’re here to be my savior. For $40 a dance, they can protect me from the rest of the scum and be a knight in shining armor for ten minutes.”
“But aren’t they the scum?” Daphne said exactly what I was thinking. Except I was doing everything in my power not to engage. I was purposely trying not to pay attention to anything going on in this room so that we could leave here in a semi-timely fashion and with some of our dignity intact. Scratch that: her dignity. Mine was gone.
“Honey, none of them are scum. They’re human beings capable of doing scummy things, sure, but isn’t everyone? Well, maybe not you. You’re a good girl. But we’re all also capable of being nice and kind.”
I tried not to bristle noticeably when Valentine referred to Daphne as a good girl . It was true, and the context was different. But she was my good girl.
When I looked at the women, I immediately regretted it. Valentine ran her hands through Daphne’s hair again. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, unable to get comfortable with the blood moving, uninvited, into my cock.
“Your hair is so soft. Is it alright that I’m touching you?”
“Sure, if you’re comfortable. It feels really nice.”
Fucking hell.
Valentine was undoubtedly a skilled professional, adept in the art of making eyes at customers in that way that would make them peel bills off their wads of cash. But it didn’t look like Valentine was putting it on for Daphne. Not the way her pupils were blown, nor the way she was pressing herself deeper and deeper into an oblivious Daphne’s lap. No one was that good of an actress. This felt uncomfortably voyeuristic.
When I caught Valentine’s eye, she raised her eyebrow and gave a subtle glance to my wallet. Ah, she was good.
And worth every dime.
I peeled off another stack of crisp twenties and slipped them under the well-used paper coaster. The ATM had a five-hundred-dollar withdrawal limit, but having no idea how much was customary, I’d made three more withdrawals.
This might not be my kind of culture, but parting with my money had never felt so satisfying.
“But you said this place has turned up your Kinsey dial. You now prefer women to men.” Daphne was half a second from breaking out a tape recorder, turning it into a full sociological interview.
Valentine, the consummate professional, was able to hold up her end of the discussion while grinding her ass and skimming her fingers over the fluffy fur of her dress, back and forth, so delicately. Teasing Daphne with a soft smile before parting the V just enough to let her nipple peek out.
Daphne’s eyes went wide and her mouth parted as she stared at Valentine’s boobs. My cock went hard. Jesus, I was not this guy. I would not be this neanderthal asshole, turned on by Daphne... exploring her sexuality. Or whatever she was doing. Even if it was right in front of me.
“That’s just because men are work. Women don’t usually come here because we cater to a select group of teamsters. Sometimes women drive with men, and they’ll come along and meet the girls their husbands spend time with when they drive 40, but it’s rare. Women truck drivers don’t come in alone. And we rarely get anyone who doesn’t drive freight. Every few months we get some college boys here on a dare. They’re the worst.”
“I still don’t see how that could drive your sexuality to change.”
“I was always into boys and girls. Pretty equal, I guess. The job didn’t change me. But do you like to come home from work and do more work?”
Daphne shrugged. “Sort of. Yeah.”
“Maybe once I’m in my future career, I will too. This is just a job. If I worked at McDonald’s, I doubt I’d be craving a Big Mac on my days off. Besides, a therapist doesn’t need to feel seen by her client. She goes elsewhere for that. I go elsewhere, too. I just want different scenery.” She touched Daphne’s arm and smiled. “Softer, prettier scenery.”
“What’s your future career?”
“I’m getting my RN. I’m a CNA now. That’s my day job. I work in assisted living before I come here at night.”
“How do you have time to study?”
“Don’t have much choice. I’ve got bills. Life is expensive. I help my sister, who’s disabled.”
“I hear that. My dad’s disabled. I grew up going without. I’m still without, although in January, I’ll have a little bit of a safety net, with a grad school stipend on top of my jobs.”
Jobs. Stipend.
The words did something inside me. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the colored flecks on the linoleum tiles, keenly attuned to this part of the conversation. Daphne needed that money. I knew it was only a meager stipend. It didn’t pay a quarter of what she was worth. But she needed it. And I’d almost snatched it away from her. If anyone found out, the circumstances might still snatch it away.
I’d be fired, of course. That, I could handle. I was the one in the position of power. I was single-handedly responsible. But her classmates might not see it that way. No matter how much academics liked to virtue-signal their feminism with lip service, many still acted upon internalized—or overt—misogyny. They’d fault Daphne. Blame her. Find a way to strip her of credibility in other ways, icing her out of authorship, cases, opportunities. She could lose everything.
“Maybe I should have thought of dancing.”
My eyes shot to Daphne. My sweet, angelic Daphne.
That was the reality of the cold, hard situation I’d put her in. I imagined her stripping off a stretchy red dress with white fake fur and shaking her pretty tits in some frat douchebag’s face while he got rough with her. My stomach lurched, threatening to upset that burger that surprisingly, wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever eaten.
Sex work was work. I believed that. I supported that: in theory.
But I didn’t shop at that store —not counting today —and it hurt to think of my... whatever she was... clocking in for a shift anywhere she didn’t absolutely love.
“I have no rhythm, though. I could never do what you do on a pole.”
I pinched my lips shut before I said anything that would draw their attention. Despite cycling through various states of arousal ever since Valentine started playing with Daphne’s hair, touching her ears, and doing all the things I wanted to be doing to her, I was not a strip club guy. My participation was clearly an afterthought here, and I preferred it to stay that way. No matter how good Daphne really was at working a pole.
“You’re a smart girl. You could learn that, easy. What you can’t learn is confidence. That’s what makes money here. It’s not your body, it’s not your act. It’s whether or not you believe it.”
“Well, there goes that. I don’t believe it.”
“Girl, I get it. The most beautiful women... and men never seem to know they’re beautiful. But look at the two of you. You’re like magazine beautiful. Book cover beautiful. But you don’t need work the room confidence. You already won.”
“I haven’t though. He won’t be with me.”
“Oh, honey.” Valentine sat straighter and removed her fingers from where they’d been twirling Daphne’s hair. She looked at me and then whispered something in Daphne’s ear that made her eyes go wide again.
“Are you... Can I ask you a personal question?”
“I don’t usually do extras, but you’re like, so pretty. If you want to fool around a bit, I don’t mind.”
“No, that’s not what— Extras ?”
I looked up from my phone, where I’d been doing a backlist of old Wordle puzzles. What now? We’re doing extras?
Valentine stood and pranced around Daphne’s chair in her skyscraper heels that looked like medieval torture devices. She circled once as Daphne looked over at me with her eyes wide, then returned to the front again, slipped her fingers under the neckline of her dress again, edging the material back.
Surely it was just a tease. She’d know her audience and wouldn’t actually... Oh shit. She did. She definitely did.
In a single beat, Valentine burst out of her dress like a can of biscuits, rocked her hips to the music, and straddled Daphne’s lap wearing nothing but a tiny sparkly thong.
Daphne blinked and her cheeks turned red. “Actually, I was wondering if you have breast implants.”
I slid down in my seat, cradling the back of my head on the cushion. I stared up at the coffee-colored stains on the acoustic ceiling tiles.
“Baby Girl, are you kidding?”
“Is that offensive? I’m so sorry. Sometimes I can’t tell if I’ve gone too far.”
“Of course I have implants. You ever see real tits as tight as these?”
“I’ve never really seen another woman’s boobs. Naked and in person. I’ve never had sisters or roommates or..."
“You’ve never fooled around with a girl?” I turned my head to watch. So much for minding my own business.
“No.” Daphne’s cheeks were red.
“Are you even into women? I assume everyone’s bi these days. Not to mention—”
“You’re naked in my lap. Maybe I’m like a... Kinsey Two, I guess? I think women are beautiful—you’re beautiful, Valentine—but I never... I’d rather..." She shrugged and sort of nodded uncomfortably in my direction. I didn’t know why I was so relieved. Daphne wasn’t mine. She couldn’t be mine. Which meant she was free to be with anyone. But I didn’t want to watch the fallout of my own love life start right now.
“What about him? He’s definitely into dudes. He’s got that look about him.”
“Nope,” I rolled my head on the back of the chair.
“He’s a nerd with nice clothes.” Daphne explained. Accurately.
“Sorry to refute your theory,” I said.
“You want to feel them?” Valentine asked Daphne, matter-of-factly, but her eyes were trained on me. And my wallet.
Well played, Valentine.
“Oh my gosh, do you mind? I didn’t think I was supposed to touch you.”
I slipped a few more twenties into the stack. Fuck. Might as well lean in.
Valentine looked quickly at the camera in the corner. “You can touch me if I allow it. Go ahead. They’re silicone, so they feel softer than they look.”
Slowly, Daphne raised a hand to Valentine’s under boob, lifting it with a flat hand, as if weighing it. I stifled a groan and tried to adjust myself in a way that didn’t make me look... like I belonged here. But there was the rub. I was here. And I was getting hard as fuck watching two women touch. It didn’t matter if it was partially against my will. Maybe strip clubs were the great social leveler. No matter your ethics or your education or how your parents raised you, your dick could still get hard watching beautiful women.
“Don’t be afraid, it’s totally cool. Here.” Valentine grabbed both of Daphne’s hands and placed them on her tits, showing how hard to squeeze.
“They’re not what I expected.”
“It’s nice, right?” Valentine shrugged. Was she blushing? “Feels really good when you do that.”
Valentine leaned closer and whispered something to make Daphne gasp and look over at me. As hard as it was keeping my eyes to myself, the women were so close, whispering and nodding and giggling—there might have been kissing—it was an exercise in futility. Valentine stopped the grinding and did more of a slow, rocking motion on the edge of Daphne’s knees, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward as Daphne’s index fingers moved closer to the apex, circling her areolas gently, slowly, ever closer to Valentine’s pierced nipples.
“I love your piercings,” Daphne said. “I’ve always wanted mine done. Did it hurt?”
My cock pulsed. I could feel the pre-cum dribbling out, moistening my boxers.
“The first one was okay, but for some reason, the left one hurt like fuck. And it took for-fucking-ever to heal. But it makes my nipples stand out more. And it feels really good to have them sucked. Your mileage may vary, though. I’ve heard some horror stories.”
Daphne twisted the little silver barbells.
I groaned. I tried to look away. Lord help me, I tried. But this was too much. My cock was so hard it hurt. My abs clenched. I breathed out a slow breath. Then it got even worse. “Why wouldn’t you be with her? She’s sweet as pie, gorgeous, sexy, smart. You don’t put a ring on that, I might.”
She gave Daphne a flirtatious smile before standing up and pulling Daphne by the hand. Both women slunk closer to me. Oh. Shit.
“Have we been ignoring you, mister?”
“I’ve been enjoying the show just fine from here.” I crossed my legs.
Valentine squeezed her boobs. “For a little more of Daddy’s money, I’ll let you play with them, too.”
I gritted my teeth at the wrongness of the word coming from Valentine’s mouth. It sounded so seedy, so repugnant. I bit back my disdain and tried to keep it professional. “I think we’re good.”
“Maybe Baby Girl wants to have a little fun.” Valentine turned to Daphne before circling my chair. “Go on, baby. Just like I did with you.”
Daphne smiled a real smile. Not coy or flirtatious. But like this was just a joke.
But when she bent down and uncrossed my legs before sliding my knees apart, I’d lost the punchline. She wasn't dressed in a nylon sock like Valentine, but she was still provocative in her short, flirty skirt and thigh-high socks that flashed the thinnest strip of naked thigh.
Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Daphne spun around and bent her knees. She held the arms of my chair and pushed her ass back into me, not so much grinding on my lap, but hovering lightly. Only occasionally would she get too low and brush against my dick. I let out a hiss as I tried not to lose all control.
“You really would have been good at this. Now turn around, slowly.”
Daphne followed Valentine’s order, keeping her eyes on mine. Her pupils were huge. I bet if I reached between her thighs, she’d be dripping after all of Valentine’s flirting and teasing.
My mouth watered for her.
Valentine lurked somewhere behind me, trailing her fingernails down my cheek before I jerked away. I didn’t want to be touched by anyone else. I didn’t want anything sexual from anyone but Daphne. And I was currently getting too much from Daphne.
My hands tightened into fists. I wanted to reach out and run the tips of my fingers over that line of skin between her socks and her skirt. I wanted to follow it with my tongue. But not here. Instead, I licked my dry lips and held her tightly by the waist to still her, which made Daphne think I wanted her to sit fully on my lap. I groaned when she came down hard on my unadjusted balls. “Uh. Okay. Darling.” She ground against my dick. “Sweetheart. That’s enough. That’s... I can’t... please, stop.”
“Awww, that is so sweet, you two.”
Daphne nodded to Valentine and started undoing the buttons on her sweater. Then she started undoing the buttons down the front of her dress.
“He’s gotta pay for his show, Baby Girl. Don’t forget. She deserves some of Daddy’s money, doesn’t she, mister?”
Oh, Right. I was salivating, practically hyperventilating, over getting to see Daphne’s tits again. It was all new, like I’d never seen them before and couldn’t wait to see what she’d unveiled when the last button slipped through its hole.
I unfolded more bills off my stack, but instead of putting them on the table, I held them out for her.
“Use your teeth,” Valentine instructed.
Daphne clenched the money in her teeth before peeling open the front of her dress. To me, and to Valentine. She hadn’t worn a bra. Her nipples were hard as rocks and I knew they’d be sensitive. She’d want my tongue but not my teeth. Fuck I wanted to give it to her.
She dropped the bills and tucked them into the top of her sock (also hot) before playing with her nipples, circling the ripe peaks with the tips of her middle fingers.
“I knew you’d have the prettiest tits,” Valentine said. “I definitely think you should get them pierced. A little metal bar through those perfect nipples would be so cute.” My cock surged. “Daddy thinks so, too.”
The word didn’t even faze me anymore. Somehow, in front of Valentine, we could be ourselves. It felt like a little reprieve of the tragedy of being pulled apart. A Christmas miracle.
Daphne’s eyes drifted closed and she started to rock herself in my lap. Her hands came down, and through my pants, she started to give me… extras.
Shit.
I pulled her dress closed and buttoned her as fast as I could. Her sweater, too.
I stood, catching Daphne as she fell off my lap. I took a deep breath. “We really have to be going. Valentine, it’s been a pleasure.”
I opened my wallet and gave her the rest of what was inside.
“Oh, shit. Thank you. It was nice meeting you two. Come back anytime,” Valentine called out to Daphne, as I dragged her out of the room.
“Hopefully by now we’ve been here so long, they’ve cleared up 40,” I said once we were back in the restaurant—which felt like another dimension to that private room.
A man wearing only a Slipknot t-shirt and beanie passed us, coming in the door from the freezing outside. “40 east or west?” he asked.
“East,” I said.
The man shook his head. “Still shut down, man. Last time I saw a mixed chemical spill that bad, it took them eight hours to neutralize everything and open the lanes. Weather’s coming in, too. Best bet’s to bunk down for the night. The last thing you want is to be caught driving these mountains in ice.”
“I appreciate it,” I nodded. Of course it was still shut down.
“Stay safe.”
“Thank you, sir,” she told the man.
I grabbed Daphne’s hand. I’d literally drag her out of the club if I had to. We had to be on our way. We’d wasted enough time. It was seven o’clock. It was dark and freezing. My cock was still hard as a rock, and my underwear were squishy with pre-cum from the Daphne and Valentine show.
“Who’d have thought for forty dollars we’d walk out of there with burgers and a new friend?”
“Forty?”
“That’s how much Valentine said the dances were.”
I stared at her sweet, innocent expression, watching it change with the realization.
“You spent more than forty, didn’t you?”
“A little.”
By the time I pulled her to the car, I couldn’t wait anymore. I spun her around and pressed her against the passenger side door, holding her face between my hands.
“What the fuck, Daphne?”
“Wha—?”
“What was that about? You think it’s fun getting me turned on like that?”
“Like what?”
I grabbed her hand and pressed it against the front of my pants. “Like this.”
Her fingers closed around my cock and I couldn’t help but rock into her hand.
My hands laced into her hair and tightened into fists, pulling her face up, closer to mine.
Her lips quivered.
“Chris, I—”
“Who was that for? For you, or all for me? How much more are you going to put me though? I can’t fucking have you, Daphne. I will not do anything that will jeopardize your future.”
“Chris, please..." She squirmed against me, standing on tiptoe to feel my cock between her legs. Goddamnit, I was pressing my whole body against hers, but I didn’t pull away.
Oh, God, I should back away. I should, I should, but I couldn’t.
Her eyes were black, her pupils had overtaken the gray. There was fire in her face.
I cupped her chin with my other hand, running my thumb along her lower lip until she sucked it into her mouth, holding it still with her teeth, stroking it with her tongue until I groaned, thinking about those lips opening as I forced my cock between them, that tongue swirling around my head.
I pulled my thumb away, trailed her wetness down her throat, her collarbones, her chest, plunging my hand into her dress and pinching her hard nipple. It wasn’t gentle, the way she liked.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said as she exhaled.
I rolled my hips against her. Just once. A mistake. I didn’t know how good it would feel. How fleeting. The ache in my cock flooded back in, worse than before, needing more and more relief.
Fuck the cold, I opened her dress and sweater. The negative temps made her nipples hard as rocks.
She was gorgeous, writhing wantonly against my car with her tits spilling out for anyone to see. Anyone could see us, driving past this shithole club, walking to and from their trucks.
She raised a leg, as desperate as I was for relief. I rocked against her again before running my hands down over her thighs, lifting her, wrapping both legs around my waist so she fit right where we both needed.
I moved my cock against her core and leaned forward to suck her nipple the way she’d been teasing Valentine’s just a few minutes ago. She smelled of Valentine’s cheap perfume and her own musky arousal. The sacred scent of her that had driven me insane in the club.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Right here. Don’t stop.”
“Shh, baby. I’m going to take care of you. Come for me. Use me.”
My cock rubbed against her pussy as I pinned her to the car. Slowly. So slowly. The layers of fabric dragging painfully against my skin, needing to get her off.
“Kiss me, Chris.”
I devoured her mouth, drugged by her tongue and the feel of her thighs, bare above her high socks. She hadn’t put her tights back on after the hospital and her skin was freezing, but she didn’t seem to mind.
I couldn’t get enough of her. I needed to breathe her in, needed to be inside her, but it was impossible. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t have her. Not here in this nasty parking lot. Not even at home, tucked safely between my own sanitized sheets.
But I could let her come. We both knew she needed it after the club.
Her legs squeezed around mine while I held her by the neck, pushing her away from me so I could look down her body, at her, working herself on me, writhing without a concern in the world for anything happening around us. I felt the warmth of her pussy grinding painfully, perfectly against my cock that was so achingly hard, it felt like it was trying to push itself through the fabric,
“Daphne, fuck,” I growled. “How do you do this to me? How is it possible that you turn me into such a..." I shook my head.
“Slut?” she said, almost out of breath.
“I was going to say... yeah.” I laughed. “I guess so.”
“I’m a slut for you, too. I can’t get enough of your cock—oh, God. There. Don’tmove don’tmove—and your... mouth. I love the way you look so sweet and boyish, and then eat my pussy... like—ohhhh—like a starving—Daddy.”
Her breaths grew thicker. She gripped harder with her legs, pulling me closer with her arms. I covered her mouth just as her scream broke free. Fuck, she was bringing me right with her. Even through layers of clothes I was coming so hard I was seeing stars that weren’t in the night sky.
My hands clawed against the car roof, almost dropping her as she started her boneless slide. My orgasm had come out of nowhere. No buildup. No tension, just a sudden explosion of searing pleasure that... oh, shit it wasn’t stopping. Warmth flooded my pants as I fought to come back to reality, but I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t fucking care.
My body was moving without the will of my brain. Scrambling to reach her even though she was right there.
So close.
Here.
My hand was running through her hair, cupping her jaw, pulling her toward me as I moaned against her mouth, not quite kissing her, but existing with her.
Tears leaked down her face, pooling against the web of my thumb. Cold as soon as they hit the frigid night.
“I’m not—This isn’t... I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m okay. I’m not sad. I’m just... so much. I feel so much.”
My pants were sodden with cum, but it barely registered. Daphne’s back and shoulders relaxed against the car, her legs still wrapped around me with a sleepy smile on her swollen lips, tear-streaked face, and pink nipples standing out in the dim light from the club entrance. Vapor clouds puffing out of our mouths as we panted and watched each other come down.
“Don’t let me go, Chris.”
Doom washed over me with her words. Replacing the bliss of sharing another orgasm with her. We’d had a moment of unicorns and rainbows and now, rightfully, she’d landed us back in reality. Unpaved parking lots. Burgers with lap dances. Dry humping my student until I was a soggy mess of shame and guilt.
I unpinned her from the car, easing her legs down.
“You are, aren’t you? You’re still going to let me go?” She asked. “After that? After everything?”
I said nothing. I buttoned her dress and sweater and zipped her coat, adjusting myself the best I could as I walked around the car.
I had no choice but to let her go.
I turned off the overzealous spray of water at the rest stop sink, brushing errant drops of water off my shirt. I looked in the mirror, lengthening my torso to tuck in my shirt. It felt oddly free, now that my soggy boxers were in the bottom of a trash can and not glued to my balls.
Outside at the vending machines, I bought a few bottles of water before something acid-green caught my eye.
At Walmart, where I usually shop, it’s Mountain Thunder, and it’s best in cans. At the Save-A-Lot, it’s called Mountain Holler, and I still haven’t decided if it’s Holler as in yelling, or Holler as in a hollow, like “Butcher Holler,” from the Loretta Lynn song. It makes me laugh. It’s the best of all the cheapo Mountain Dews, but I don’t shop at Save-A-Lot very often because Walmart’s produce is better. I’ve never actually had Mountain Dew. Not the real stuff, anyway. Name brand soda’s a luxury.
The memory made me smile. I could see her telling me this. She’d been sitting on the counter of my parents’ house in my boxers and t-shirt and wool socks, feet kicking the cabinets underneath, fingers dipping into the tiny bowl to take pinches of red and green sugar to sprinkle on the gingerbread men I was smearing with icing.
That was before , when I could gaze up at her adoringly, kiss her and touch her whenever I wanted, thinking we’d have all the time in the world to learn each other’s quirks.
Now that our time was just about up, I could leave her with one final offering.
“I was worried you fell in,” she said as I opened the car door.
I handed her both water bottles and she tucked them in the cupholders.
“One more,” I said.
I passed her the real, honest-to-goodness Mountain Dew.
“For me?” Her eyes got all big and round in that sexy pitiful way that made my chest feel heavy.
“Have at it.”
She practically cradled the bottle in her lap.
“I’m too cold right now. Do you mind if I save it?”
“What you should do is toss it in the garbage, but it’s yours now. Do what you want with it.”
She smiled and tucked her hands back under her legs where they’d been when I’d left. I had turned off the car and taken the keys into the bathroom with me by habit. Now, she was freezing.
I started the car and blasted the heat before placing my palms on the wheel. I didn’t shift into gear. Didn’t make a move to leave the parking lot.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. And, Daphne, I need you to accept this without argument,” I said to the windshield. “Please.”
I felt her curious eyes on me.
“I’m going back west. I’m getting off at the Lebanon exit and we’re going to see the Christmas lights. If you still want to see them.”
“Yes!”
“It shouldn’t take us longer than a half hour. After that, we’re going to find the quickest alternative route to Knoxville and I will not stop this car until I’ve delivered you to your father’s doorstep.”
I turned to watch her face melt into a heartbreaking resigned sadness.
“I’m not going to kiss you goodbye. I’m not going to listen to your proposed solutions. I’m going to drive back to my apartment and my cat, send Jeanette an email with a confession and a detailed timeline of my actions—maybe I’ll leave out the strip club—and start praying that’ll be enough to keep you safe and maybe keep my job.”
Daphne pinched her lips together, holding back a response.
“Then I’m going to spend the next two years avoiding you at all costs. And so help me God, I will be strong enough to do it. I will drown out every mention of your name. I’ll turn tail and run with every wisp of blonde hair I see around every corner. I’ll find someone else to teach your classes, even if I have to cover their six-figure salary myself. Every email with your name attached will be automatically forwarded to my assistant.”
Her hand came up to cover her mouth.
“For the next two years, you will date whomever you like. Fuck whomever you like.” My voice was rougher as those syllables passed my vocal cords. “You will form incredible friendships, business contacts, and forge a network with your cohorts. You’ll volunteer for any and every assignment that gives you field experience, no matter how far away it takes you. Most importantly, you’ll finish your master’s, if not your doctorate.”
“But I don’t—”
“I’m not finished. At the end of those two years, or longer, if you decide to get your PhD, after you’ve walked across the stage to receive your diploma. If you aren’t partnered, dating, fucking, or in a romantic relationship with someone. If you still remember I exist, and you want to try again..."
I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes.
“I’ll find you.”
She was silent for a minute. Looking at me with an unreadable expression. Her face was quizzical in the best of times. Now that she was trying to maintain a sense of mystery, it was impossible.
A slow, cold smile spread across her mouth. Something sinister. Bitter. She reminded me of Anubis when she sauntered across my desk to lie across my keyboard while I was working.
“Yes, Daddy.”