“You must be Charlie’s dad,” I respond, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. His name eludes me and I wonder if I’ve ever actually heard it. I guess it makes sense that his father would have keys to the apartment, in case of emergencies, but this is so far from an emergency, no matter how on fire my face is.
“I have to guess by the way you answered the door that Charles is not home yet?” he asks, already knowing the answer. I’m practically dismissed as he unpacks his laptop, setting it on the island. I’m still frozen in place, distinctly aware of how see-through the bustier is and that I am wearing a thong. The robe is barely long enough to cover my ass entirely, and I think his father has already had enough of a show. The key to survival in this moment is making no sudden movements.
“He should be here any minute. He was picking up dinner because he had to work on a proposal tonight.”
Charlie’s dad walks past me and sits on the couch, crossing his legs and grabbing a magazine off the table as if this was a waiting room. I tug the robe down as far as I can, my face still burning with embarrassment. The shock is wearing off and other emotions, namely horror, are sinking in.
“So you, what, thought you would distract him further with sex?” He glances over at me, taking in the sight of the kitten heels and garter that peeks out under the robe. “You remind me of my ex-wife.” The way he says it tells me that’s not a good thing.
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” I ask, slipping back into receptionist mode, the only way I will survive the ticking clock until Charlie gets home. I try to push past the feelings of objectification.
“I’ll have an espresso.”
I slip back into our room while his attention isn’t on me, grab a pair of sweats, and pull them on over my stockings. I abandon the heels and pad barefoot back to the kitchen. I look at the time and say nothing as I flick on the machine, letting the water warm up. I never have the drink myself, but I took it upon myself to learn how to make espresso when it became obvious that Charlie preferred to drink them while working for hours on the weekends.
My breathing is focused as I try to work through the next few steps that I’m going to take in getting through tonight. Give Charlie’s dad his drink and then get changed into the largest clothes in the apartment. I focus on willing the drip to go faster so that I can get the espresso to Charlie’s dad and then put on more clothes.
Charlie walks in as I hand his father the drink.
“So, I know how you said you love soup dumplings so I got an order to go from that place in Chinatown that you mentioned you like. It took a little longer than I expected to get here from downtown. I tried to mislead you a little with my ETA,” Charlie announces as he walks in the door, proud of himself for the surprise. He sets the bag of food on the island and then his eyes land on his father. He subtly stands taller, and his voice gets a little deeper.
“Dad.” Charlie doesn’t know where to go next. “What brings you by?” Clearly, Charlie wasn’t the only one with a surprise on his mind.
“I wanted to go over your proposal. I went by your office and you were gone so I came here, assuming you would be home. Imagine my surprise.” His father sips his drink, clearly unbothered by the discomfort in the room. His cold brown eyes flit to me for a half a second, before dismissing me.
“Right, I’m going to get changed and then we can talk over dinner. We have plenty of extra food.” Charlie grabs my arm gently, leading me into our bedroom and cutting off any response his father may have. Charlie leans against the door, closing his eyes.
“Not exactly how I imagined meeting your father,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood. Charlie opens his eyes, reaches forward, and unties my robe to get a good look at what I’m wearing. He groans.
“Shit,” he bites out, not angrily. “You answered the door in that?” He reaches a hand forward, rubbing his thumb over my breast before withdrawing his hand quickly. He walks around me to his dresser and starts pulling out clothes to change into. I take off the robe, toss it to the side, and bend over to grab my own clothes to change into. Charlie catches a glimpse of me bent over and through gritted teeth, he curses again. I don’t even hear him cross the room, before I feel his hands on my hips, pulling my ass against his rock hard cock. He gives me a playful spank.
“My God, what I wouldn’t give to have gotten home before him,” he says into my neck as I stand. I do the man no favors by grinding against him before pulling away.
“Unfortunately, you were not and now your father has seen me half naked.” I gesture to my body and the lack of clothes. Charlie fights to hide a smirk. “I swear to God if you laugh I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
He quickly smothers the smirk and bites his lips, but his amusement still shines in his eyes. I would tease Charlie, peeling the clothes off slowly, but I’m too frantic and worried about his father sitting outside.
“Can we also talk about the fact that your father has a key to this apartment?” I ask as we both strip.
“How about we save this argument for later, dear?” Charlie agrees tersely. We emerge from our room, both in t-shirts and sweats, eager to be done with his father’s visit.
In the living room, we find his father has moved from the couch to the table, his laptop open before him. His father won’t even look up at us.
“That was fast. With a body like hers, I would have taken my time,” his father says, a plate of soup dumplings in front of him.
Charlie places his hand on the small of my back. “Dad, that was seriously uncalled for.” Charlie grits his teeth as he says this. My cheeks are burning for the second time tonight.
His father doesn’t apologize but he stands up and joins us at the island. “I’m Charles Senior, and you are?” He offers his hand to me, a bare minimum of respect. I hold my head high, determined not to be cowed by this man. I have nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the one who should feel dirty talking about his son’s girlfriend like she’s a commodity and right in front of her, no less. I’ll never have to wonder why he’s on his fourth divorce.
“Elia,” I say, taking his hand and shaking it. Just as quickly as he introduces himself, he dismisses me. He starts in on Charlie about investment figures and quantitative analysis for the proposal. I feel largely forgotten as I suck down my soup dumplings and rice, standing inside the kitchen. They go back and forth trading numbers and jabs about how best to handle the deal.
I shouldn’t have let the insecure voice in my head win out, because I know Charlie. He presses a kiss to the side of my head before placing his hands on either side of me on the island, pinning me in place. Of course I wasn’t forgotten. I feel his breath on my neck, surprising me.
“I know my dad, so this is going to take a really long time. Why don’t you turn in? No need to wait up for me.” He kisses me again before moving their operation to the dining room table.
I settle into my spot on the couch, legs curled under me. I set my laptop on my knees and go back to editing my photos. I post a few of my favorites to Pictogram and order a couple of canvases to hang up. I look at some of the commission work I was given, trying to get a feel for what I had been doing before. Most of the commission pieces have been passed on to other artists due to my extended absence. My tablet sits on the coffee table and I’m not sure yet if I’m going to pick up the work again. Much of what I had done was fan work based on books. There was little income from that but it was enough to fuel my sushi addiction.
I consider picking up the pen again to draw, color in the sketches I’ve done, but my heart just isn’t in it. My ears perk up when I hear Charlie and his father mention Christmas.