Sleep With My Boyfriend's Daddy

Chapter ３

“Sure,” I say. “But why don’t you go get dressed first?”

That adorable blush is back as she looks down her body and quickly folds her arms over her chest again.

While she is down the hall changing, I muse over the fact that my bone-deep tiredness seems to have vanished. The construction and architect conference I had been attending the last days was interesting, but the closing event wasn’t tempting enough to keep me in the big dirty city, not even with the prospect of no-strings-attached company with one of the women attending. Instead, the good weather forecast had me driving all night to get home, and as a result, I’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours. I’m probably half-delirious from lack of sleep, and that’s for sure the reason for my insane fascination by this way-too-young girl. How old is she again? I think Leonid said she was nineteen.

Way-way too young. And not to mention, my son’s girlfriend…

I’ve cracked four eggs into the frying pan and toasting bagels under the grill by the time Arlene walks back into the kitchen. Her skirt goes all the way down to her knees and the white T-shirt is just that—a white T-shirt. It’s obvious that she has put a bra on. It’s one of those padded ones that makes your boobs look bigger and hides any hard n*****s.

I hate those bras.

But this morning, it’s a blessing.

“Leonid still sleeping?” I ask as she helps set the table.

“Uh…” She bites her lip, looking uncertain. “I assume so,” she says in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I—I didn’t look into his room.”

“His room? Are you not staying in his room?”

“No,” she admits. “I’m in the guest room.”

“Did you two have an argument?”

“Well—no, it’s not that. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath, but her voice is a mere whisper when she continues. “I’m just not ready to share a bed with anyone yet.”

I’m shocked, on so many levels. Leonid became sexually active at an early age, and for him not to sleep with his girlfriend sounds…just strange. But despite feeling a bit of admiration for my son, the voice shouting the strongest in my head is saying: She’s untouched! No man has had his c**k inside of her!

My sleep-deprived mind is screaming for me to claim her, claim her as mine, ruin her for any other man.

Jeremie, where are these disturbing thoughts coming from?

“That’s very admirable,” I say with what I hope is a normal tone. “I’m glad my son is respecting your wishes.”

“Yes,” is all she says, looking down.

Arlene asks me about the area when we sit down to eat, and I have no problem telling her about this town that I love so much. I suggest places for her to visit, the best beaches, trails for long walks, and where to spot wildlife. She soaks up every word, asking questions, and seems eager to go explore right this moment.

“Why did you decide to come here after your exams? Don’t you miss you family and friends?” I ask her.

“I was hoping to relax a bit after all the finals stress. And home is not a place that is relaxing.” She laughs, but her eyes turn distant.

“Why is that?”

“Well…there’s always some type of drama with my older sister, and my twin brothers—they are younger than me—they always get into trouble. Then Mom will get mad at my dad because he is too lenient with my sister, and Dad will get mad at Mom because she’s too lenient with the boys. There’s always fighting and never a quiet moment, always drama and arguments.” She sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offload like that.”

“And who’s the most lenient with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mom or your dad—who is the most lenient with you?”

She looks taken aback by my question.

“Um…neither. I never cause any trouble.”

I would love to find out why my question is making her feel so uneasy, but instead, I ask her about her hometown. She tells me about a park and a couple of walks she likes, but in general it sounds like an industrial town with not much charm or soul.

I can’t believe that two hours have passed by the time my son makes his way into the kitchen.

“Dad! What are you doing here so early?”

“I drove back through the night. You know me, can’t stand big cities.”

“Yeah…” His gaze drifts to Arlene, and misplaced jealousy surfaces in me when he puts his hand on her shoulder. I get up from my seat.

“I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on,” I offer, mostly just so I don’t have to look at them.

Behind my back, I hear my son mumble, “I’m so sorry.”

I assume he’s sorry for Arlene having been forced to spend time with me on her own.

But I’m wrong.

4Arlene“I’m so sorry,” Leonid whispers and sits next to me, the smell of alcohol still strong on his breath. “I was totally out of line last night. I never should have tried to push you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Romantensing, his head turns our way and his expression is hard. I feel mortified that he’s overhearing this conversation.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

“No, it’s not. I was drunk, that’s my only excuse. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

If I could only believe his promise. I think his patience with me is slowly withering away. I’ve told him before that I don’t want my first time to be a drunken hook-up, yet last night, when we got home, he kept trying to push me. Even when I said no, he was all wandering hands, all drunken coercion. I wasn’t scared, but still felt very vulnerable. I made sure my bedroom door was locked, and I couldn’t help but cry myself to sleep. He’s never been that pushy before.

“Okay,” I say again, and I smile just to make this conversation end.

“Thank you, sweetheart, for being so understanding,” he says and nuzzles his face in my hair. His hand lands on my leg and starts moving up and down, and I wonder how much he really understands.