Chapter 8
Bianca
For the last two days, Mr. Walker and I haven’t had another moment alone. Drew has been around from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep. And though it’s been fun teasing Mr. Walker more, what I really want is for him to touch me again. I can tell he wants to. I can tell he’s frustrated.
I put on my skimpiest swimsuit today. I was a little hesitant because of Drew, but I couldn’t resist. Mr. Walker’s eyes blazed as he looked at me.
His nostrils flared. Then he told me to go back inside and change into a different swimsuit, but it was too late.
His wife had already seen me. She told me she wished she had my figure when she was my age.
She said she would have shown it off if she had.
Then the four of us spent most of the afternoon outside. I went inside twice, hoping he’d follow. When I came back outside, his wife had him helping her with one task or another. He went inside once as well. When I tried to follow him, Drew followed me.
But it was easier to bide my time when I thought that Mrs. Walker was taking Drew to baseball practice. But an hour before practice, she got a phone call. She stepped into the house for a few moments, then came back out to the pool.
“Eric,” she says, “I need you to take Drew to baseball.”
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Jessica’s out of town and Max cut himself. Peter’s going out of his mind, so I need to go calm the situation down and help him take Max to the ER.”
Mr. Walker rolls his eyes. “If he’d just watch his own kid once in a while, he’d know how to handle an emergency.”
“Don’t start,” Mrs. Walker says. “You know, this is exactly why Jessica didn’t want to go out of town in the first place. Either way, I need you to take Drew to baseball so that I can make sure Max gets the care he needs.”
“Fine,” Mr. Walker agrees with a nod. “Go make sure Max is okay. Then offer to bring him over here until Jessica gets back.”
“If I do that, Peter will never learn how to do this.”
“It’s also not worth Max killing himself.”
Mrs. Walker sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sure after this, he’ll keep a closer eye on Max.”
Mr. Walker snorts. “Sure he will,” he mutters under his breath.
As his wife leaves, Mr. Walker sends me a look. After a moment, he says, “Why don’t you come to baseball practice?”
“What would I do at baseball practice?” I ask.
His eyes flash, telling me that we’ll have at least a few moments of Drew-free time. “You’ll be able to get a good grasp of America’s favorite pastime.”
I smile at him. “Okay.”
“You’ll come?” Drew says. “You’ll love it. Baseball is almost as fun to watch as it is to play.”
Baseball is totally boring to watch, though from the fun the boys are having, I have to admit that it looks fun to play. Still, the only fun part is teasing Mr. Walker. I wore a dress with nothing underneath. And from the way Mr. Walker is watching me, he knows it.
We sit in back of all the parents, on the top step of the bleachers.
We’re the only ones back here, so as soon as practice starts, so does the touching.
At first, Mr. Walker simply takes my hand and places it on his knee.
When no one looks back, he slides it further and further up until I’m cupping the hard length of him.
“Two days I’ve been like this,” he tells me. “Two days of blue balls and you teasing me. What are you going to do about it?”
I bite my lower lip and look around as I squeeze his hard shaft. “What can I do?”
He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he turns me toward him a little, my knees now hiding the fact that his hand has slipped beneath my dress. I gasp when his fingers slide through my wetness.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Teasing him has turned me on. It has from the start. I’m so ready for his touch. As soon as I feel his fingers, I rock my hips forward, I press harder against him. His thumb moves up and down over my clit. My head falls back a little as my lips part, but I hold back the moan — barely.
Mr. Walker turns toward me. I raise one knee higher, opening my legs to allow him more freedom to touch me. My knee is now high enough to hide the fact that I’m gripping his erection. I slide my hand up and down. I love the feeling of it pulsing against my palm.
We’re both breathing hard, both writhing in our seats.
It’s only a matter of time until someone sees what we’re up to.
Then, suddenly, a few parents in front of us shout and jump up from their seats.
I release Mr. Walker’s erection, sure that they’ll look back at us as they sit down. They don’t, but Mr. Walker stands.
“I need to get something from the car,” he says, then motions for me to follow.
With one look around to see that no one is looking, I do follow. I know exactly what’s going to happen and I can’t wait.