10. Hattie
TEN
Hattie
Ifill the bathtub as high as it can go with steaming water and light a candle that illuminates the dark room, emitting the scent of fresh pumpkin pie.
My wet clothes have been tossed aside, and I sink into the scalding water.
It burns my skin in a therapeutic way, almost as if it were melting my day away.
I close my eyes, careful not to get too relaxed, as the last thing I want is to be the woman who died falling asleep in her bathtub.
But I breathe in the warm scent, letting it envelop me as much as the bath is.
I can hear the rain hitting the window, and the loud grumbling of the sky, the raindrops dancing on the glass almost in a rhythm.
My day was long, and it didn’t help having to run in the rain to get from my car to the house. I was too tired to wait it out, afraid I’d fall asleep in my own driveway. That wasn’t something I’d ever live down if Tilly or Lina found me.
The only thing I was thankful for was knowing Ollie was safe and taken care of. I peeked in on him on my way to the bath, and he looked just as peaceful as always.
I don’t know what kind of sorcery Emmy did, but I’ve never seen my house look so clean and my son look so happy. Well, apart from what I saw on the Ring camera, anyway.
Emmy is this mysterious and beautiful woman who has come into our lives when we needed her most. The way she looked at me tonight set me ablaze. I clench my thighs together in need of another release.
I’m relaxed now, but I know it’s too good to be true.
I want to soak up every last second of this feeling.
So I close my eyes and imagine Emmy in here with me.
Her glasses getting foggy from the steam, her red hair dipping into the water.
Our legs tangled together like two twisted pretzels, unable to tell whose is whose.
Her nipples pink and hard, begging to be sucked.
I’d wait for her to touch me, and just as I think it, I dip my own hand beneath the water. My clit is already swollen, and I can still feel how good she felt on my skin.
Her hands touching me under the water, her fingers brushing against my chest as her breasts bob on the top of the water.
My fingers flick over my clit, gliding through my folds gracefully.
I can still hear the sounds she made when I was fucking her.
The whimpers and moans that I’d do anything to hear again.
Her body is like a Greek goddess, full of curves and skin for me to grab.
I can see her straddling my lap, our breasts bouncing against each other, and I’d put her glasses on the side of the tub.
I’d push back her red hair to see more of her face.
God, I’d love to feel her soft skin and taut nipples.
I swear I’d die to hear her moan for me again.
I imagine leaning in to kiss her, our lips would be in a frenzy for the other just like last time.
I rub hard circles across my clit, and my head relaxes on the back of the tub.
I stifle the moan I’m dying to set free, because I’m not sure if Emmy is still here.
The last thing I’d want is her walking in on me touching myself to the thought of her.
That’s not really me putting things behind us, is it?
But right now I’m thinking about her soft skin, her hand slipping between us, and how good it felt to have her breasts in my mouth.
One hand keeps steady circles while the other is digging my nails into my palm. My knuckle is probably white from holding on so tightly. But I am so close; if I could just feel her body on top of me or have her tongue against my throat again…
Fuck.
“Mmmmm!” I mumble, my lip throbbing from biting down so hard.
The rush of intensity washes over me, and I feel everything at once, darkness and stars as my orgasm hits.
I release everything I was holding back.
My whole body relaxes, and I gasp, trying to steady my breath.
I almost slip beneath the warm water, no longer steaming, but I catch myself on the edge.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I can’t remember the last time I had one that intense. Well, by myself that is.
I wait a few minutes before draining the water from the tub, transferring to standing so I can wash my hair. A quick rinse later, and I’m walking barefoot in a towel to my bedroom. I put on a fresh pair of matching pajamas, black with little scream masks all over them.
Sighing, I grab my wet towel and wet scrubs from the bathroom and bring them downstairs.
I have to clean up the mess I left behind, anyway.
I was dripping wet when I got home, but there was no avoiding traipsing it through the house unless I undressed in front of Emmy, which didn’t seem like the best way to start off our professional relationship.
As I walk down the unexpectedly dry steps, I look around, confused. It’s plausible that the rain might have dried, but there is no residue of dirt or footprints that were definitely there before I had my bath. I follow the trail I made all the way to the living room and stop.
It’s spotless, probably cleaner than it was before, which is crazy. So I head to the laundry room, which is hidden behind my office, and drop in the wet clothes. I set a reminder on my phone to start the load in the morning so they don’t get musty.
I’ll have to thank Emmy for cleaning up after me; I didn’t ask her to, nor did I expect it. So it’s a welcome surprise.
With my stomach growling, I head to the kitchen for some cereal.
It isn’t my favorite, but it isn’t like I’ll be able to whip something up this late.
Not to mention the mess that was already there from this morning.
But as I enter the kitchen, that too is even cleaner than I’ve ever seen it before.
All the dishes are done and put away; even the usual things on the island are piled neatly instead of in disarray.
Wow, if I wasn’t already paying her so much, I’d consider giving her a raise. This is going to be a lifesaver for me. I notice the yellow sticky note on the fridge and read it.
Hattie!
Extra soup for you in the fridge for dinner; hope you enjoy!
- E
I smile, taking out the container and heating it up in the microwave. At least I wouldn’t have to have cereal again tonight. And it is the perfect weather for soup with all this rain outside.
I move to the living room to turn on the TV while my soup heats up, grab a cozy blanket from the basket I keep next to the couch, and hang it over where I’m going to sit. Getting my soup, I take a seat on the couch and put on the first scary movie I see.
I can’t help myself; it is October, and it’s a cozy night.
Plus I’ve seen all the good ones enough times that I could start from the middle and still enjoy it.
I take a mouthful of soup, and I’m impressed—everything is seasoned and delicious.
I’m still shocked Ollie ate it and asked for seconds, but whatever it takes to get some vegetables in him.
I think this is the first time I’ve come home from work in years and actually relaxed. There isn’t another chore to do or dinner to make. I can actually eat something hot and relax enough to watch a movie before bed. I will definitely be thanking Emmy.
After I finish the soup, I spread my legs on the couch and rest my head on the pillow. I’m probably going to fall asleep right here, but it is fine, because for once everything is done.
“Mom?” Ollie’s poking my cheek and looking at me, confused. I yawn, glancing around the room, and realize I did fall asleep on the couch last night.
“Yes, Love Bug?” I ask.
“Are you okay? Did you sleep on the couch?” He plops down next to me, squeezing into the small space on the edge.
“Yes, just fell asleep watching a movie.” I smile, ruffling his hair.
“Did you like the soup? Emmy and I made it! She let me cut up the celery, not with a sharp knife but with a butter one. Why is it called that if you can cut more than just butter with it?” Ollie looks at me patiently waiting for an answer.
“I think its original use was butter, but now we use it for other things. Do you think you can give me a second to grab a coffee before we have more questions?” I ask, sitting up.
“Sure.” He nods, grabbing his book and sitting on the couch.
I’ve never seen a kid who likes to read this much, but I’m not about to complain. His reading level is way advanced for a seven-year-old, which sometimes complicates homeschooling, but we’re making it work.
I have to look at what today’s lesson focus is because I didn’t have a chance last night. Getting up, I go pee, brush my teeth, and start the laundry. Then I make a fresh cup of coffee, taking it black with just a spot of skim milk, and get Ollie’s breakfast ready.
He’s easy in the morning; he likes Cheerios and milk—with a side of cut-up bananas. Once it’s ready, I call him, and he sits at the island to eat while I sip my coffee.
“So how was yesterday? Did you have fun with Emmy?” I ask. She’s good at cleaning, but maybe she’s hiding behind it because she secretly hates kids or something.
“It was so much fun. We had a reading picnic outside, and we played with my toys. Ch—Da…” Ollie pauses, clearly trying to figure out what to call Christopher. He settles on, “The guy came over for a little while, and he played with me too. He said he might come over tomorrow too,” Ollie says.
He’s struggling with how to identify Christopher, and I don’t blame him.
“Do you want him to come over?” I ask hesitantly. I’ve been trying hard not to let my feelings for Christopher get in the way of Ollie’s.
“Yeah, if that’s okay.” He looks at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to tell him how to feel about Christopher.
“I know it’s probably complicated, so we can talk about it. But as long as you want him to come over, he can come over, okay?”
“Really?” He smiles.
“Yeah. I don’t mind you getting to know him; I just want to wait before you’re spending any time at his house or without Emmy or me there. Does that make sense?” I ask.
“Kind of. Is it because you don’t know him?”
“Yeah, he’s been gone a long time, so I just think we should spend time getting to know him,” I explain.
I’m trying to keep it simple for his sake, but I don’t want to tell him too much either.
“Yeah, okay.” Ollie shrugs.
I just nod, trying to maintain a happy disposition even though my stomach is full of fury. I don’t want Christopher to hurt him, not when Ollie has been shielded from that before. If Christopher is going to keep seeing Ollie, I want to make sure he’s serious about sticking around.