Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston
Page 15
Maybe my tone is a little much for a Christmas Eve party, or maybe he sees the flash of anger in my eyes—but his eyebrows go up in surprise and he moves off to the side. I pull up the driveway and park next to the kitchen door, then get out with my bag of shallots, and head inside.
It’s like the North Pole threw up in here, that’s how f**king festive it is. People are laughing, someone is playing Christmas songs on the piano in the front room, the whole house smells like food, and the commercial kitchen is packed with cooks and servers.
“Who needed shallots?” I call out to them.
They stare at me, and then ignore me.
“Right.” I set the shallots down on the counter and go find my mother. Traditionally, foursquare homes are divided into four rooms per floor, which includes the kitchen, the formal dining room, living room, and family room. Our living and family rooms have been remodeled, so it’s just one great-room. My mother is standing in front of the windows, next to a man playing the piano. In fact, she’s standing a little too close to this man playing the piano. She’s laughing down at him with a twinkle in her eye and she’s got a champagne flute in her hand.
Could my day get any more f**ked up? Since when does my mother have a boyfriend?
Maybe if you came around more than twice a year you’d know.
People are talking to me as I make my way across the long front room, but they know better than to touch me or get too personal, so I glide right past them and tap my mother on the shoulder.
My mom is kinda on the small side. Petite, I guess. She’s got her auburn hair piled up on her head and she’s wearing a conservative red dress that ends mid-calf. She turns and throws her hands up in excitement. “You made it!”
“No,” I growl. “I came with your shallots but no one in the kitchen knows what I’m talking about.”
“Oh,” she turns to the man playing the songs. “Gary, go tell the cooks what to do with the shallots, would you please?”
He gets up and leaves, and then my mother turns back to me with a smile. “I wanted you to meet him. Can you say hello at least?”
I just blink at her. “Meet him?”
“Yes, Ford,” she says in her soothing mom voice. “I’ve been dating him for three months.”
I turn away and walk out. I’m done with this f**king day.
I don’t even know how I get back to my apartment garage, but I’m already here, sitting in my Bronco, trying to come to terms with what just happened. My mother has moved on.
Shit that f**king stings like bad.
I check my watch and it’s ten minutes past ten. Fuck. I grab my computer and get out. I jog over to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, hoping that will make it appear quicker. The doors finally open and I key in my penthouse code, then tap my foot the entire way up.
The doors open and the naked pet is walking to the closet on the far end of the hall where I have them leave their clothes. She stops mid-stride and stares at me, her brows a bit furrowed.
She might be pissed. I’ve left her waiting lots of times, but it is Christmas Eve.
“Sorry,” I say as I quickly walk to my apartment door to unlock and open it. “If you’re staying, follow me in, close the door behind you, and stand at attention.”
I go inside and drop my keys on the foyer table and then walk straight to the office to lock up my computer.
The front door closes quietly behind me and her bare feet make a small padding sound as she walks into the living room.
I smile.
Finally. Finally, after all the bullshit I had to do today, I’m gonna get some satisfaction.
Chapter Seven
When I return to the living room my pet is standing ready in front of the window, not facing me. This is where I like them at night because the window is like a mirror and if they want, they can watch me walk up behind them. The rules state they will not look at me. But this pet cheats. Every single time. I can see her eyes trained on me like a target as soon as I appear in the living room. She knows I can see her and yet, she never averts her eyes—bowing her head is also against the rules and I’d definitely spank her for it tonight. I like an even chin with downcast eyes.
This is how I know she’s playing a game. And not a sexual one, but a power one. Because if all she wanted was a spanking, she could bow her head and get it over with. But that’s not all she wants. She wants me to punish her on her terms, but she’s not in charge here. I am. So I’ve restrained myself for months.
I take my white t-shirt off as I walk up behind her. I can see the color of her eyes—green—that’s how visible it is that she’s watching me. Her lips part, form a seductive o shape, and the smallest of moans comes out as she licks her lips.
I squint my eyes down into slits as I consider what I’d like to do with her tonight. “Do you want to play, pet?” Her eyes in the window lift up a little so she can stare into my own through the glass. “You know I can see you, so why do you do it?”
She looks away at this, but not because she was caught, but because she’s thinking. Considering if she should risk talking.
If she talks, she’s out. She knows this.
“Because you’re trying to tell me something?” I guess.
She nods and holds my gaze.
“Because you’re trying to tell me you’re not a pet?”
She shakes out a no for this one, and I let out a breath as I lean into her neck and nip the tender skin near her nape. “Right answer, pet. But is it true?”
It’s like the North Pole threw up in here, that’s how f**king festive it is. People are laughing, someone is playing Christmas songs on the piano in the front room, the whole house smells like food, and the commercial kitchen is packed with cooks and servers.
“Who needed shallots?” I call out to them.
They stare at me, and then ignore me.
“Right.” I set the shallots down on the counter and go find my mother. Traditionally, foursquare homes are divided into four rooms per floor, which includes the kitchen, the formal dining room, living room, and family room. Our living and family rooms have been remodeled, so it’s just one great-room. My mother is standing in front of the windows, next to a man playing the piano. In fact, she’s standing a little too close to this man playing the piano. She’s laughing down at him with a twinkle in her eye and she’s got a champagne flute in her hand.
Could my day get any more f**ked up? Since when does my mother have a boyfriend?
Maybe if you came around more than twice a year you’d know.
People are talking to me as I make my way across the long front room, but they know better than to touch me or get too personal, so I glide right past them and tap my mother on the shoulder.
My mom is kinda on the small side. Petite, I guess. She’s got her auburn hair piled up on her head and she’s wearing a conservative red dress that ends mid-calf. She turns and throws her hands up in excitement. “You made it!”
“No,” I growl. “I came with your shallots but no one in the kitchen knows what I’m talking about.”
“Oh,” she turns to the man playing the songs. “Gary, go tell the cooks what to do with the shallots, would you please?”
He gets up and leaves, and then my mother turns back to me with a smile. “I wanted you to meet him. Can you say hello at least?”
I just blink at her. “Meet him?”
“Yes, Ford,” she says in her soothing mom voice. “I’ve been dating him for three months.”
I turn away and walk out. I’m done with this f**king day.
I don’t even know how I get back to my apartment garage, but I’m already here, sitting in my Bronco, trying to come to terms with what just happened. My mother has moved on.
Shit that f**king stings like bad.
I check my watch and it’s ten minutes past ten. Fuck. I grab my computer and get out. I jog over to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, hoping that will make it appear quicker. The doors finally open and I key in my penthouse code, then tap my foot the entire way up.
The doors open and the naked pet is walking to the closet on the far end of the hall where I have them leave their clothes. She stops mid-stride and stares at me, her brows a bit furrowed.
She might be pissed. I’ve left her waiting lots of times, but it is Christmas Eve.
“Sorry,” I say as I quickly walk to my apartment door to unlock and open it. “If you’re staying, follow me in, close the door behind you, and stand at attention.”
I go inside and drop my keys on the foyer table and then walk straight to the office to lock up my computer.
The front door closes quietly behind me and her bare feet make a small padding sound as she walks into the living room.
I smile.
Finally. Finally, after all the bullshit I had to do today, I’m gonna get some satisfaction.
Chapter Seven
When I return to the living room my pet is standing ready in front of the window, not facing me. This is where I like them at night because the window is like a mirror and if they want, they can watch me walk up behind them. The rules state they will not look at me. But this pet cheats. Every single time. I can see her eyes trained on me like a target as soon as I appear in the living room. She knows I can see her and yet, she never averts her eyes—bowing her head is also against the rules and I’d definitely spank her for it tonight. I like an even chin with downcast eyes.
This is how I know she’s playing a game. And not a sexual one, but a power one. Because if all she wanted was a spanking, she could bow her head and get it over with. But that’s not all she wants. She wants me to punish her on her terms, but she’s not in charge here. I am. So I’ve restrained myself for months.
I take my white t-shirt off as I walk up behind her. I can see the color of her eyes—green—that’s how visible it is that she’s watching me. Her lips part, form a seductive o shape, and the smallest of moans comes out as she licks her lips.
I squint my eyes down into slits as I consider what I’d like to do with her tonight. “Do you want to play, pet?” Her eyes in the window lift up a little so she can stare into my own through the glass. “You know I can see you, so why do you do it?”
She looks away at this, but not because she was caught, but because she’s thinking. Considering if she should risk talking.
If she talks, she’s out. She knows this.
“Because you’re trying to tell me something?” I guess.
She nods and holds my gaze.
“Because you’re trying to tell me you’re not a pet?”
She shakes out a no for this one, and I let out a breath as I lean into her neck and nip the tender skin near her nape. “Right answer, pet. But is it true?”
