Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Forty minutes later, we pull up in front of a small bungalow that looks very similar to my house. It’s an older neighborhood but well-maintained, with a brick walkway curving to the front. Several varieties of roses are planted next to the walkway, giving the home a cottage feel.
Anthony exits the car and comes around to help me out. I have to remember to tell his mom thank you for teaching him such excellent manners. We walk hand in hand to the door, making one stop on the way so I can smell the yellow roses. As I bend over, I feel his hand rub against my bottom as if he’s checking to see if I was telling him the truth.
“I already told you I didn’t wear any. When are you going to believe me?” I shake my head at him and roll my eyes skyward.
“You are in so much trouble when we get home. You realize that, right?”
“Can’t wait, baby, I love punishment sex. That’s what you’re talking about, right? Hard and fast? No mercy? I’m counting on it.” I leave him alone with a shocked look on his face. He races up the stairs, catching up with me on the porch .
The door swings open before he can respond. I turn my smile to the woman standing in front of me.
“Oh, my goodness, this must be Emma. Come in, sweetheart. Anthony, why did you keep her waiting on the porch? We saw you drive up a few minutes ago. What were you doing out here for so long?”
“Hey, Mom. Emma was smelling your flowers.” He leans over and kisses his mom on her cheek.
“Do you like roses, Emma? I have ten different varieties planted out there. You should see them in June; they are all in full bloom, and the whole yard smells heavenly.” She closes her eyes and inhales as if she can smell the flowers from memory.
“Yes, Mrs. Haywood, I love roses. They remind me of my mother. She also had a love for them. Her favorite was the Julia Child rose. It looks very similar to the yellow rose you have planted down the walkway. It’s one of the most fragrant roses I’ve ever smelled.” I point to the center of the walkway, where the big yellow blooms are located.
“That’s exactly what that is. I bought that at a garden show about ten years ago when Anthony opened his first restaurant. It’s taken off, just like his career. Make sure I clip off some flowers for you to take home today, and Emma, please call me Claire.”
“Mom, do you want to stand on the porch all evening and talk about flowers, or should we go in?” Anthony asks.
“Of course, I won’t make you wait out here. Come on in and have a seat. I want to hear all about you,” Claire says. She takes my hand and pulls me into the living room.
I follow her to the couch, where she gestures for me to sit. As I survey the room, I notice that all the furniture is upholstered in a floral print. It’s sweet, in a grandma kind of way. The curtains are lace sheers with one of those fluffy valances on the top. I haven’t seen anything like it since I was a kid.
“Thanks for having me over, Mrs… I mean, Claire. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Of course, we’re so pleased to have you join us for dinner. Anthony, tell your father Emma is here,” she says. Claire is wearing a blue chambray shirtdress and sensible loafers. She could’ve escaped straight out of the television show Leave It To Beaver . She’s like an updated June Cleaver.
I look at Anthony; my eyes are pleading with him not to leave me alone. As he steps behind his mother, I watch him break out into a silent laugh. Oh… I’m going to make him pay for this.
“Anthony says that you live with him now.” She walks over and sits down beside me. “You know, in my day, you didn’t try it before you buy it. You just signed on the dotted line, and you committed for life. Society is much more forgiving today than it was years ago.”
What am I supposed to say to that? I opt to ignore her statement and move along. “How long have you and Mr. Haywood been married?” That should buy me some time.
“Let’s see... we met when I was eighteen, and we married when I was twenty. I’m fifty-eight, so that would make thirty-eight years.”
“That’s marvelous. Congratulations.”
“David is older than me by eight years. I like an older man; I assume you do as well. Isn’t my Anthony older than you?” She smiles at me, and I can see Anthony gets his smile from her. She has beautiful straight white teeth and full lips that break into a full grin.
“Yes, he’s ten years older than me.” Claire reaches under the table and brings out what looks like a photo album.
“I think an older man is good. They take a while to mature. Come closer. I want to show you, Anthony, when he was a boy.” I move in, so we are side by side. Looking over the three-inch-thick album, I realize it’s going to be a long evening. “Why don’t you look at these while I check on dinner? Can I bring you something to drink?” She rises from the sofa and walks across the room.
“I’ve got it, Mom,” Anthony says as he returns from who knows where. Walking a few steps behind him is his dad. He enters the living room with a glass of red wine in each hand. Anthony is the spitting image of his father; he’ll be an incredibly handsome older man. I’ll have to tell him later when we talk about his age again.
“Emma, this is my dad, David. Dad, this is my Emma.” Anthony sits beside me and passes me a glass of wine.
He called me his Emma. I’d fall over and faint if I had panties on. I can’t risk my dress floating up, so I guess I’ll have to settle for the warm fuzzy feeling I have in my chest. His hand travels down my back and comes to rest against my bottom. His touch sends a chill up my spine.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. Anthony has been telling us how he’s met an extraordinary girl. All I have to say is, it’s about time.” His dad takes a seat across from me. “I see Claire has given you the album of shame. She loves to show that book off to Anthony’s girlfriends; unfortunately, he’s only brought one home before you.” Anthony gives his dad a sideways glance.
I open the book to the first page and see the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. Looking up at Anthony, he almost looks embarrassed. “You were so cute.”
“What do you mean were ?” He gives me the evil eye.
“Now you’re the most handsome man, but you were a darling baby.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. Claire enters the room and sits on the other side of me. I’m officially the center of a Haywood sandwich.
“Wasn’t he the cutest thing? We tried for four years to conceive, but nothing. I enrolled in secretarial school, and bang—I was pregnant.”
I look toward Anthony and watch as he mouths the word “oops.”
I flip through the pages and see him as a boy growing up. He was a very active kid; there are pictures of him playing soccer, baseball, and football—the photos chronicle his life. He ages every few pages. The high school pictures are so funny. “Wow, you had braces? What grade were you in when this was taken?” I ask, pointing at the image on the right.
“I was in ninth grade, I think.” The picture staring back at me is a pimply-faced kid with a tin grin.
“Well, I’d have been getting ready to enter kindergarten the year after they took this.” I giggle as I try to keep a straight face. He gives me a pinch on my bottom, making me jump a little in my seat. The next page shows him in a tux. As I look at the picture, I see he had red Chucks peeking out from the bottom of his black tuxedo pants. Next to him is a pretty blonde girl. “Junior Prom?” I ask.
“Yes, and before you ask, my date’s name was Sabrina. We had a couple of dates, and that’s it.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.” I turn the page and find a picture of him with shoulder-length hair and a surfboard tucked under his arm. “Oh, my God, you were a surfer dude. Now I understand your love of the ocean.”
“He’s been in the ocean since he could swim. He used to compete in surfing competitions when he was younger. He gave that up when he gave Rose up. He’ll have to show you his collection of trophies,” Claire says.
“Rose? This is the first time I’ve heard of Rose.” I look up at Anthony with a questioning look. I watch as his body stiffens. Why does this Rose girl cause such a reaction?
“She’s no one. We dated for a while, and then we didn’t.” He tries to roll over the subject as if it never existed.
I turn to the last page and find another formal picture. This time he had purple Chucks to match his purple bowtie and cummerbund. It reminds me of the tux he wore for the opening of Ahz, only he wore nice Italian leather shoes instead. Next to him is a leggy blonde. “Looks like you had a thing for blondes.”
“That was before I found out that redheads were so much more fun. When do I get to see pictures of your prom dates?” he asks.
“Never. I didn’t go to prom.” There is a gasp throughout the room. Everyone looks stunned that I didn’t partake in the whole prom experience.
“I can’t believe that a girl as pretty as you didn’t get asked to prom,” David says.
“I got asked. I didn’t attend.”
Claire pats me on the shoulder as if to say I’m sorry. “Anthony, why don’t you take Emma on the grand tour of our mansion.” She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Don’t forget to show her your trophy room. I’m going to check on dinner.” David and Claire walk out of the room, leaving Anthony and me alone.
“Ready to see my bedroom, Em?” He takes my hand and helps me into a standing position. His lips meet mine as his hand drops to caress my bottom. I can feel him pulling my dress up to cop a feel. I quickly pull it down and step away from him.
“Stop, your mom and dad could walk in at any minute,” I chastise him.
He gives me the same smile I saw in his photos from high school. “Let’s go, babe. I want you to see what a stud I was.” He takes me by the hand and leads me down a hallway covered with pictures from kindergarten to graduation. “Close your eyes,” he says before he opens the door that takes us back to his youth. I do as he asks. Guiding me into his room, he grabs my waist and sits me on something soft that I assume is his bed. I feel him move away from me. I hear the door close and the unmistakable click of a lock. There is a rustling of what sounds like papers.
“Can I open my eyes?” My heart races. I know he’s up to something.
“No,” he says. I keep my eyes closed and sit patiently.
“What are you doing, baby? Your mom is going to be looking for us soon.” I can feel the air change in the room. There is a crackle of energy in the atmosphere. Sensing him in front of me, I reach out. His hands settle on my knees, making my skin tingle as his fingers slide up my inner thighs. I feel as if I may implode. His fingers reach the apex of my thighs, his thumbs glide in and spread me apart. I lie back and allow my legs to fall open, giving in. I need this. He has been stoking and banking my fire all day. His hot velvet tongue strokes me, and I claw at the bedding and bite my lips shut. Just as I am about to explode, he pulls back.
“Oh…God…please don’t do this to me again. I swear I don’t think you’re old. I was teasing. I love everything about you, baby. Please don’t leave me like this,” I beg.
“The thought of you sitting here bare under your dress is driving me crazy. If you ever tell me you are pantiless again, I will take you wherever we are. Do you understand? You can’t play that game with me and not expect me to respond.”
His head drops to my mouth to catch the frustrated scream that threatens to escape. I pull my legs up around his waist, trying to pull him closer to me. I dig my nails into his shoulders, clawing at any relief I can get.
“I’ve had a lot of fantasies in this room, but making love to you on my twin bed would beat them all. What do you say?”
“Your mom and dad are in the next room,” I answer with alarm. I need a release, but I know myself, and quiet isn’t part of my sexual vocabulary.
He sighs heavily before he straightens me up and pulls me into a sitting position. I will have to stay in my sexually heightened state for a while longer. I exhale and open my eyes.
“Holy smokes—you have at least a hundred trophies in here.” There isn’t a surface in his room that’s not covered with a trophy or medal of some sort. On the desk are several photos that are turned upside down. I wonder if that’s the rustling of papers that I heard.
“What can I say? I’m an overachiever.” He smiles smugly.
“Why did you make me close my eyes?”
“I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed by my greatness,” he teases as he looks around his room. His eyes settle on the photos on the desk .
“Who’s in the photos?”
He looks at me sheepishly. “Just some girl I dated. My mom still had her pictures pinned to my corkboard, and I wanted to remove them before you saw them. It’s just someone from my distant past, and I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Okay, I understand totally.” I look around the room again. I won’t pry into what he doesn’t want me to see.
“Is this what your room was like when you were a kid?”
“Exactly, except I had a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, and it smelled like sweat instead of your arousal. I like this smell so much better.” He plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Shall we join my parents?”
I growl in frustration as he guides me out of his room and into the dining room. My parts are still tingling. It’s almost cruel how he takes me to the point of no return and then makes a U-turn to deliver me back to ground zero.
We sit down to dinner with his parents. Claire and David sit at the ends of the dining room table, and Anthony and I flank both sides. I wait to see how to progress with dinner, not sure if they say a blessing. I look across the table and smile as Anthony winks at me.
“Guests first. Emma, please help yourself,” Claire says. “I’m not a fancy cook like Anthony, but I make a good meatloaf. I hope you like it.” I carefully scoop up a slice of mystery loaf, a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and pass the plate to my right.
“I love meatloaf. My mom used to make it when I was a young girl. It was different every time. I used to call it mystery loaf because you never knew what it would taste like, but it was always good. This is comfort food to me.”
David piles his food high on his plate. “How did you meet Anthony?” he turns to me and asks.
“Yeah, babe, how did we meet?” Anthony jokes. I give him a quick kick under the table. After the shocked expression fades, he breaks into a hearty laugh .
“He stalked me. Then he hired me to attend a fundraiser with him.”
“What do you mean, he hired you?” David asks. He places a bite of meatloaf in his mouth and chews.
I look across the table at Anthony and see he’s enjoying this. The merriment dancing in his eyes is unmistakable. I’ll have to figure out a way to make him pay for my discomfort.
“I was an escort.”