Stephen
Every single glance at the clock has brought with it a fresh wave of anxiety. And by the time it reaches a quarter to five, I feel like I genuinely might be sick.
But going home is the last thing I want right now. I’d take on overtime if there were anything to do. Anything to keep from having to go home and have the conversation I’m dreading.
This weekend was fucking incredible. Maybe the best of my life. It was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had. I don’t think we actually put clothes on the entirety of the day on Sunday. It was a fucking dream come true.
I hadn’t just landed the girl of the dreams, or the guy of my dreams, I’d landed both at once. They brought out a confidence in me I didn’t know I possessed. It all felt like a fantasy. A really, really, amazingly filthy fantasy.
But then Monday rolled around and reality came crashing back down around my ears, and suddenly my fantasy that had felt so right and so perfect felt like a terrible mistake.
I hadn’t just hooked up with some girl, I’d hooked up with my daughter’s nanny. My next-door neighbors. How the hell had I thought that was a good idea?
It would be crazy enough if it were just Kristen, or just Joel, but to screw around with them both…I’m just asking for trouble. There’s no way out of this that doesn’t lead to someone getting hurt, and as the third one on the outside, realistically, that’s probably going to be me.
That part, I can live with. But then I looked at the fridge and saw one of Judy’s latest drawings. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the abstract scribbles, but Judy had very impatiently explained that she was the yellow blob, I was some sort of large blue squiggle, and there were green and purple blobs that represented “Johl” and “Kwispin.”
Me getting attached isn’t the problem. But I can’t let my decisions hurt Judy, which means putting an end to this before it goes any further, no matter how much it kills me.
Five finally rolls around and I take my time shutting down my work computer, gathering up my stuff, closing the blinds…okay, I’m stalling a little bit. But fuck, I really don’t want to do this.
My eyes burn and I blink hastily. Fuck no. If I let myself blubber now, I’m never going to get through this. Pull it together, get it over with.
The whole drive home, I’m trying to figure out exactly what I should say. Can we really go back to being just friends after this?
I’m not sure, but it’s hard to imagine just gaming on the couch with him when, if I close my eyes, I can still remember the feeling of his lips around my cock.
Damn it. I can’t fucking think like that. Maybe it’s better if I don’t try and stay friends with them. Sure, it’ll be awkward, but I can’t think of a solution for this that won’t be.
I don’t want to fire Kristen. Judy loves her, and I know she loves my daughter. And right now, it’s not exactly like I have another option. So I’ve decided that even though it’ll be awkward and hard, I’m going to tell the two of them that we should just keep things professional.
From today on, Joel will be nothing but my neighbor, and Kristen will be nothing but my nanny. I keep telling myself that it’s for the best.
Even if my heart is screaming at me not to do it.
I pull into the driveway and let out a heavy sigh. My limbs feel like they’re packed full of lead. I just want to sit out here and hide, but I force myself out of the car and into the house.
“Daddy!” Judy’s greeting cry lifts my aching heart some, enough to force a smile across my face as she launches herself into my arms.
“Hi, Princess!” I say with forced cheer, “Did you have a good day today?”
She nods. “We made mochas!”
For a moment, I’m confused, wondering why my daughter would be drinking coffee, until a laughing Kristen corrects her. “Maracas,” she explains, holding up a brightly colored object and shaking it so it rattles, “We made maracas out of easter eggs, rice and spoons.”
“Oh, how cool!” I exclaim with the same forced cheer, “You’ll have to play me a song later.”
I set her down and she runs back to the plastic castle where it appears she’s abandoned some sort of game of pretend involving a Barbie and a stuffed banana.
Once she’s out of easy earshot, the cheer melts off of Kristen’s face and shifts to an expression of concern. “Are you okay?”
She reaches out to touch me and I pull back. I glance over at Judy, then back at her. “I think we should talk.”
Her face falls, and I’m pretty sure she knows before I say a word. “Stephen…”
But I can’t. I have to press on before I lose my nerve. “Look, I’m sorry, this has been really amazing, and this weekend was fantastic, but I think…” my voice fails me and I have to take a breath to steady myself, “I think that I need some distance. I think that maybe I crossed a line, and I’m afraid that we’re gonna hurt Judy with all of this, and I think maybe we should just keep things…professional.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait, professional, like-like you don’t even want to be friends anymore?” she asks.